Boo Guelph Toyota!

Once a parent, always a parent, at least that's a saying that I think I've heard.

Our son Keaton, or KP, turns 30 this calendar year, so you'd be correct in guessing that we should be well past swooping in to alleviate his woes and angst, but we've sadly learned that old habits die hard when he encountered some pretty shady and slimy business practices with his local Toyota dealership.

First, some background information ...

His first car was a 2008 Honda Fit, a gloriously economical yet sturdy workhorse that went through almost any weather, took little sips of gas at a time, and had loads of available space for his various projects. As with a lot of mechanics, he kept it working but didn't waste minutes on the minutia, but it never disappointed him. 

Fast forward the years and he's engaged, bought a house with her, and learned how to do a plethora of Bungalow Bill jobs as he reno's the ridiculous patches made by previous owners. He's learned how to make hardwood stairs, replace windows and doors, install all manner of appliances, frame, drywall, tile, plumb ... all thanks to YouTube University and his future FIL! Not too shabby for a kid who grew up in a house with two-thumbed parents who jury-rigged their way through 30 plus years of home ownership.

As a consequence of dozens of trips to Home Depot and the like, KP decided that the Ol' Fit needed an upgrade to a more contractor style vehicle ... a pick up. The search was intense but yielded a suitable match to all of his wishes in the form of a used Chevy Colorado, a trade-in at his local Toyota dealership. The negotiations began, decision was made, the paperwork signed, the deposit paid, and final steps were the tweaks required to get it certified. 

All that was left was to wait ... and wait ... and wait. Oh, how prophetic!

A month went by and there still no truck. Weekly inquiries about progress were greeted with excuses, shoulder shrugs, and the occasional chirp of crickets, all while they sat on his $2000 deposit. I have to be honest in sharing that our boy can sometimes be impatient, doesn't tolerate stupidity well, and responds abruptly when he feels wronged. 

Can't imagine where he learned that, says I with a sheepish grin.

All of this inaction prompted some detective work, efforts that revealed the truck had a "check engine" issue which Toyota addressed by dropping it at his local Chev dealership for some assistance because, as you should recall, the sale was contingent on the truck being certified. The snooping uncovered that not only were there potentially large issues in play like timing chains and camshafts, but incredibly, the green slip listed our son as the owner, a HUGE issue since they were driving it around the city from dealership to dealership, meaning that any legal issues would fall in his lap, not theirs. The Chev dealership was aghast because the ownership cannot be transferred unless the truck was safetied, and that meant someone was not truthful to the Ministry when transferring.

A trip to the Ministry also confirmed that all of this was true. Shit said she and the fight was on! 

Conversations with the Toyota salesman and his direct boss were frustrating, inconsistent, and infuriating, conversations that were recorded (as per Canadian law) in the event that satisfaction was not met and further "negotiating" was necessary. By now, the calendar had continued to flip and he was 2 months into it. All efforts on KP's part to escalate up the food chain were met with stonewalling and ignoring, the temperature of his blood rising to a boiling point. I've paraphrased the back and forth quite a bit to save space, but suffice it to say he felt caught between the proverbial "rock and a hard place", resulting in a number of phone calls to us as venting opportunities lest his head come clean off his shoulders. He was adamant that some form of compensation for his trouble and disappointment was the lynch pin of the deal.

As a curious twist of fate, a letter arrived at his house from the Ministry claiming that they had erred and the ownership should not have been transferred. When has any of us been on the receiving end of any Ministry fessing up about a error? The validity of the letter was definitely a question.

The culminating moment happened recently when the dealership communicated that the truck was finally ready for pick up. The calendar revealed that it was just 2 days shy of 3 months. To add insult to injury, when he arrived at the dealership with money order in hand, he was informed by a different manager that the people he had been dealing with were not available and no notes about compensation were left. Kudos to my son for not taking his 3 month battle out on the this new-to-him manager.

I'm sure it comes as no surprise that the conversation was animated and unsatisfactory, the truck was left sitting in the parking lot, and our boy was livid. 

Cue the calvary bugle and the DOD (Dear Old Dad) who jumped in with a call to a chum in Guelph to see if there existed a foot in the door with the GM of the local Toyota dealership, a person whom seemed to be avoiding any communication. While no connection existed, my buddy said he had a former student who was a long time sales leader with the local GM dealership, and he offered to connect them to see if some inside info could be garnered for next steps. When the conversation happened the very next day, it was revealed that this particular dealership was known by locals as a place to be wary of, and that the best piece of advice to offer was to take ownership of the truck on the premise that even though the negotiations were not over, at least with the ownership part of the deal would be done, and there wouldn't be any new surprises.

The Truck now sits proudly in his driveway, repairs to a number of items performed, making it a really good deal considering the low KM's. 

The fall out of the run-around, shadiness, fibbing, and revolting business practices are yet to be negotiated, but in a stroke of civility, the dealership covered the cost of 3 months insurance, a small price to pay for being such cretins. It even came with a set of snow tires!

How will it all play out in the end? Who knows, but if you're in the market for a vehicle, his experience would steer you away from dealing with the Toyota folks in Guelph.

"Walking out the do-oo-or"

Many of you know me personally and are aware that I am a proud three time "graduate" of the education system, the first time earning a OSSHD, the second a BSc/BPHE, and the last time a gold-plated ROFAH ... the much sought after credentials of Retired Old Fart And Happy. 

One of my newer friends is Mr Jay Rothenburg, Esq.

After a tremendously impactful career in the classroom, Jay is "pulling the chute" as it were, being bestowed his own gold-plated ROFAH, and leaving behind thousands of grateful youngsters whose lives were improved thanks to his passion, empathy, caring, and competence. As the driving force behind the music program at Barrie North for decades, Jay's never ending brilliance and energy will step aside for the next generation to hold of the torch. 

As a card-carrying ROFAH, I welcome Jay into the club with a hug and a huge smile. I offer my sincerest gratitude for his continuing friendship ... bike buds are the best friends. I give him a huge pat on the back for his part in making the future of Canada a little better. I pray that he will enjoy decades of ROFAH membership, wheeling his way around the world, gigging as much as is allowed, and basking in being the Master of his Domain.

I also pray that his love Helaina enjoys the Energizer Bunny around full time!

Jay, I found the following out there on the interWebs, and it resonated with me.

To every teacher walking out of the classroom for the final time,

In the coming days, many of you will lock the classroom door one final time, not just for the summer, but for good. Some of you are retiring after decades of shaping lives. Others are stepping into a new season of chasing dreams, healing from burnout, caring for family, or answering a different call.

Wherever you’re headed, we just want to say thank you. 

Sincerely, thank you.

Thank you for the early mornings, the late nights, the personal sacrifices. Thank you for believing in students who didn’t believe in themselves yet. For being a safe place. For teaching far more than what was in the curriculum, like resilience, respect, empathy, grace, and effort.

You were more than an educator. You were a mentor, a coach, a counsellor, a cheerleader, a pseudo-parent, a friend, and sometimes even a lifeline. Your fingerprints are all over the future in ways you’ll never fully see.

So as you walk out of the building one last time, know this…

You made a difference.

You mattered.

And you always will.

Here’s to your next chapter with deep gratitude and all our best.

Welcome to the club, my friend.

We've been waiting for you.

Robert "Bio Bob" Irwin

Being a '63 baby, that makes me 63 years old, and while that's generally pretty gosh darned awesome, it also means that I'm losing friends, people that were both influential and impactful in my younger years. It's Circle of Life stuff, for sure, but it doesn't make one feel any better about the hole that has developed in my soul.

Robert "Bio Bob" Irwin was, as the moniker would indicate, my biology teacher back in the Stone Ages, later becoming a colleague when I returned to my alma mater as a member of staff, and then a good friend as one of the band of Merry Men who meet twice a month to commiserate, giggle, heckle, and belly laugh about our shared journeys to that point in life. Bob had a remarkable intellect, a wickedly dry sense of humour, and a mind boggling collection of paraphernalia that he seemed to know exactly where a needed piece was at any given moment. 

I am using the past tense because this past week, Cancer got the better of yet another person in my life.

"Bio Bob" was a beloved son of Mulmur, ON, and as such, filled his days with activities typical of that flavour, stories that he regaled at our meetings, often prompting an actual "guffaw" of pure belly laughter, sending airborne suds of beer spraying in all directions. After marrying the love of his life, Louise, Bob joined the staff of Barrie Central in 1969 and quickly became the stuff of legends with his antics and wit. A lover of practical jokes, many a colleague fell victim to his mischievous mind, all done in the pursuit of a good laugh. 

If you sit a collection of Central alumni down at a table with a host of adult beverages in the middle, and the stories will slide out like the beads of mercury he used to let us play with. Let that sink in ... we were allowed to play with mercury! Whether it was dissecting fetal pigs and rats, using cells procured from our own bodies, or burning sugars or starches, Bob was stuff of legends, and because of greats like him (AND Don Stephen, Don Lillow, Rick Kalte, Bill Fell, Bob Clarke or Brian Honey), I chose the career path of scientific "Sage on the Stage" for myself, although that's a bit of a misnomer since I rarely got assigned to teach science.

One of the more famous stories surrounds him setting himself on fire, an act profound enough to lead to the establishment of the infamous "Hot Pants" staff award presented annually at the final staff meeting to the colleague who had the "greatest" workplace accident for that school year. Having some matches in the pocket of his renowned white lab coat to make short work of lighting the Bunsen Burners for some lab, the story goes that Bob was fiddling with a Bunsen Burner flint lighter that was also in his bulging pockets as his students busied themselves, but accidentally set the matches, and himself, on fire. Serving to make the story even more outlandish, he didn't even notice until alerted by one of the students that his lab coat was smouldering. 

Many thanks to Fellow Barrie Central Legend, Don Stephen, for sharing another beauty about Bio Bob. After he was finished running a blue Pontiac into the ground, he donated it to the Central auto shop in late winter.  Tom Hannah, the auto teacher, parked it inside for the night.  In the morning the shop floor was covered with water and soggy newspapers.  The explanation: the car's floor had been rusting out. Over the winter,  Bob patched it with newspapers--they got wet and froze--kept the slush from getting into the car.  When parked indoors, a winter's worth of ice and paper thawed for Tom to cleanup! 

Our band of Merry Men is shrinking with time. Although that's inevitable, it is still depressing for me that parts of my youth are disappearing. 

I'll miss you "Bio Bob".
I'm comforted to know that you're no longer in pain and discomfort.
The last memory of time we shared is a rumbling belly laugh prompted by one of your infamous wise cracks, and that's exactly how it should be.

RIP my friend

Obituary from Barrie Today

Questions, Questions

In a second bout of pondering, the questions below are this time a little less personal, taking on a more philosophical taint as I grapple with some of the bigger picture items. Again, these are my thoughts and opinions, and while I feel strongly, you are more than welcome to hold different, or even opposite, views to mine and I won't take any offense ... none, zero, nada.

As I said in my previous post (CLICK), this is meant as a springboard for discussion ...
Over a coffee?
Or maybe a beer?

What worries you most about the future?

I will profess that my reply to this query might change significantly depending on when in my Life's years you posed it, priorities being fluid and dependent on circumstances, profoundly reflecting the worries of that period.

When I first read the question, at this time in my life, I immediately thought of three things:
(a) the looming climate crisis
(b) the political landscape
(c) the potential for a recession

A quick look at a recent IPSOS poll reveals that I'm not that far off, the worries of the world in 2025 include crime & poverty 32%, inflation 30%, social inequality 28%, unemployment 28%, and political corruption 27%. It is curious to note that 32% of Canadians responded with inflation concerns, augmented by the present situation with North American relations, but didn't poll out on other world concerns, instead focussing on the significant internal changes the country needs to reshape it's habits and global image ... curious, not worrisome.

Of my three major concerns, the political landscape is obviously innately tied to the threat of a recession, but lost in the daily turmoil of the White House is the continuing issues surrounding the climate crisis. With POTUS et al creating a variety of smokescreens through ever increasing ludicrous decisions (Venezuela, Greenland, ICE), the banishment of climate crisis issues from mainstream media creates great fears about the planet that we are leaving to our coming generations, the threat of which is reinforced weekly as the weather changes from what we thought we understood. How quickly we shoved the issue to the back burner, the cause of the crisis escaping the mechanisms of industrialization around the globe at rates seemingly unchanged. It's hard to know who to believe in this day and age of AI generated news, but the effects are a global concern and a global responsibility, and time is indeed running out.

Even though I have entered my sixth decade, I still anticipate being around for a lengthy number of years more, the increasing threat of extreme weather events becoming the new normal, and with it, the rising cost of maintaining our global infrastructure and safety. Unless this is simply a cosmic coincidence, the rising threat of extreme events poses not only (and most importantly) risk to life, but the increasingly regular cost of clean up and rebuilding is pushing the limits of financial feasibility. 

When are we going to collectively going to change things?

What is the difference between living & existing?

Steve Maraboli, the author of the quote to the right, "has electrified, inspired, and entertained a wide range of audiences in over 30 countries with his unique style of cutting edge behavioural science, proven business methodologies, humour, and unforgettable stories".
When I looked him up ... yes, I didn't immediately recognize his name ... I learned that he is credited by INC Magazine in 2016 with being one of the most oft quoted speaker/authors. I am pleased to admit that I immediately felt a commonality in perspective, and it dovetailed brilliantly with how I would answer the question above.

While there are many in various corners of the globe that might beg to differ, not the least of which would be those enduring one form of armed conflict or oppression, I propose that simply existing is not a tall order in today's global experience, our ability to impact a situation around us is one of relative ease. Life simply happens while we keep our heads above water. To turn the tables on this and to truly live in a manner where you hold the reins of Life, one must greet each day with intention and a sense of purpose, a mindset that foists the victim mentality of a shoulder shrug through planning, and acting on, a predetermined course of action for the day's energy. Those that embrace this mentality are easily spotted, their non-verbal communication of "I got this" a resounding demonstration of motive and resolution.

I hold a firm belief that doing this 24-7-365 is a tall order, but have succeeded more often than not at "sucking the marrow out of life" (think Dead Poets Society) as I embraced the challenges of daily life, purposefully linking the decisions for the Here and Now. Looking at today through the lens of yesteryear, I am proud of how I've arrived at this point. 

I fully admit that this view is through the lens of living in a great country, with no threat of war/conflict, and being in a secure state financially. 

If life is so short, why do we do so many things we don't like, and like so many things we don't do?

The easiest way to answer this links back to Maraboli's insistence that we get busy living, but I will confess to have fallen prey to the Rat Race in my working past, and in doing so, have affixed perceived value to accomplishments surrounding the work place, providing motivation to embrace things I didn't enjoy with the justification that the reward trumps the displeasure. I was quite quick to "drink the Koolaid" as it were, lest the accolades arrive less frequently, even if it meant that was a gnawing grumpiness glowering deep inside. With a finite number of minutes in each day, those under the umbrella of flexibility were gobbled by the perceived mandated must-do's. 

Wait! What? You looked so happy making dreams come true for others ... you weren't? 

If I'm honest, sure, I found some satisfaction in the process of it all, feeding the competitive core of my soul, but the rewards didn't always leave that warm fuzzy that reaffirms it all in the quiet moments of my musings just before the morning alarm. I wasn't anxious about damaging my relationship with Joyce, or even my kids, but those internal arguments about what really and truly made me happy meant I didn't always prioritize effectively. This self-struggle manifested as perceived stress and my long standing character flaw has been to console myself with treats, a habit that has led to wild fluctuations in girth over my life, a subject I've written about in the past. When I truthfully conquered those internal demons, I more successfully prioritized those available minutes for things I knew would result in that addictive warmth deep inside, will power to stay out of the cupboards at full power, self soothing through movement and putting my body back in balance. 

I spent my years at the public trough, willingly and passionately, and while paid well for my efforts, much of the satisfaction was of a non-monetary nature. I've forever joked that I chose teaching because it was the only way in Canada to get paid to coach. I could have followed the lead of some colleagues creating, growing, and maintaining a "side hustle" to pad the personal coffers for the days I find myself in right now, a trip or treat the direct benefit, but I also know what creates that previously mentioned addictive warmth, and I'm darn proud to have found a way to give it permanence that didn't require cash. Knowing myself like I do, I was honest enough to realize that it would require some of those minutes, a sacrifice I did my best to balance. 

Still, I did willingly sacrifice minutes in the pursuit of legacy, the joys of which materialized in the later stages of Life, and I acknowledge I definitely could have prioritized more effective, but I will stand firm that they do not manifest as a Life's regret. I accept the misgivings and forgive myself for choosing, hindsight being 20-20. 

Re-Emergence

I used to embrace a life impacted by a ridiculous moustache, and I once received a keychain with a big black stache that purred, "Well, hello there." when a button was pushed. If I could somehow play that for you to hear, you'd understand the theme of this piece.

I'm back ... Or, maybe it's better to say I've re-emerged
I've missed this process of creation ...

The last post that I shared (CLICK) was about a great family friend's Celebration of Life, and somehow, someway, I lost my drive to create in the mired, murky waters of Life that played out in the spring of 2025. I wasn't unhappy ... or too busy ... or disinterested ... but rather chose to occupy my 86 K seconds in a different way, and writing took a backseat.

Well, I'd like it to ride shotgun for a while!

Looking back on 2025, a LOT of stuff happened that significantly impacted the path my Life was on, and while most were ultimately positive, they caused me pause, and redirected the direction of my prow.

My Mom chose to alter her own path by successfully selling her Florida condo after 30+ years

My mom and dad purchased a condo in Naples Florida in 1990, at a time when the foreign exchange rates were in Canada's favour, and it quickly became their Nirvana, their home away from home, their American paradise. They were able to enjoy all that it became for a number of years prior to my dad's early passing, and despite it being a daily reminder that he had left her on her own, mom continued to enjoy all that Pelican Bay offered to her. For a host of reasons, Joyce and I weren't (didn't?) take advantage of free Florida accommodations until I retired, but we still got to experience what my parents had embraced for a few years, making our own memories and some new friends. With the inevitable passage of time, mom arrive at the place in Life where maintaining two homes became a chore, and a decision was made to investigate selling. Considering where everyone in our family was in Life, it made perfect sense for Joyce and I to be the ones to play a major role in helping her both not only get the condo ready for sale, but to offer support throughout the turmoil of the process, a role we embraced despite the door that was closing.

My family spent some moments this past holiday reminiscing about the condo as the anniversary of the sale passed in mid December. With all that has played out thus far in the 47th presidency, the decision has been reaffirmed many times over, and while I am firm that I will not spend my well earned dollars in the US as long as things remain the way they are, we still harbour some regret about what was and what we have lost. 

I'm personally stoked that a large pressure was taken off my mom's shoulders, and while the culmination of the whole affair looms like a spectre thanks largely to the glacial, grinding nature of the IRS, I know that she can still get emotional when thinking about all those fond memories.

It's definitely the epitome of bittersweet.

My daughter and hubby had their first child, my first grandchild, Elowynn

Joyce and I love our kids to death, that much is not a shock to anyone that knows us, and we couldn't be prouder, happier, or more content with the adults they have become. They both found their soulmates, they're both in the housing game, they both have discovered a path they embrace, and they both seem very happy.

When our Maddi married her boo Chris, she was not shy about letting us know that the plan was to have a honeymoon baby. Well, with Life in the rearview mirror being 20-20, the powers that be thought, "Let's see how they deal with some bumps in the road." and the process became long, frustrating, and emotional, requiring soul-searching, patience, and some medical assistance. When the proverbial "cat was out of the bag", and the ever swelling baby bump prompted a host of emotions for our family, we too experienced some emotional upswings as they inevitable climax of the process loomed. A whirlwind of a labour resulted in our wee Elowynn announcing her presence with a resounding series of yelps, manifested in a level of love that we previously unaware was possible. In my purely biased opinion, she's practically perfect, in every way!

We're six months into the infant roller coaster, some loops anticipated, some unforeseen, but exhilarating none the less as her cherubic smiles melt our hearts multiple times a day. 

More on Wynnie in later posts.

My nephew married the love of his life, a former athlete of mine

My third brother Rob and his wife Jen have two strapping young boys, Marcus and Jackson, and while they both have settled on their mate for Life, 2025 was Jackson's turn to make it official when he married his literal high school sweetheart, Drew. While I was the prototypically proud uncle, the nuptials were enhanced by the fact that Drew was a former athlete of mine, a youngster whom I had developed a solid relationship with prior to them falling for each other, so the kiss that sealed the deal this past fall was an even bigger thrill that it could have been. 

To see how deeply the two are in love with each other is the coup d-grace. 

I discovered that condo life, while good, can't correctly be coined great

Joyce and I entered into Condo Life at Wasaga Beach with our eyes wide open, and while we are quite happy with that decision, we have discovered there are some, albeit minor, things about condos that we were in error about, and they have taken some of the shine off. Some of these were errors made in not fully understanding, but others were errors in assumptions, and we all know what happens when we assume! 

We had every intention to escape the Canadian winter doldrums with regularity, and were successful for 4 years, so a condo made perfect sense with it's turn-key lifestyle, but the situation south of the 45th parallel has thrown a proverbial monkey wrench in the gears. Yes, we could fly somewhere warm, with viable options like Mexico or Central America doable, and we could certainly opt for a Mediterranean destination like Spain or Portugal, but the added expense of flying means a shorter reprieve than driving offers. 

Don't get me wrong, we love our Condo Life once we cross the threshold! Living on one floor, a more than comfortable space, and some of the chores taken on via monthly fees makes for a nice relaxing retirement, but as the old real estate adage extols, it's all about location, location, location. Condos in our price range in Wasaga Beach do not come with a plethora of amenities yet still demand a sizeable monthly cost, so if we're choosing to endure Snow Squall City like we are this winter, the value doesn't match the outlay. 

Looking back on our time in Barrie, in our little home of 31 years, the faces around us changed, but the feelings remained fairly constant, and we really didn't understand that choosing a life that demanded sharing the costs of operation and upkeep would expose us to the frustrations of the mindful minority when it comes to following rules and regulations. My parents taught me that, "You're either part of the solution, or part of the problem." so I dealt with my frustration level by getting elected (acclaimed) as President of our Condo Board, figuring that I would actively participate in the necessary modifications with hopes of lowering my angst. That has proved moderately successful, and while pleased to have prompted some satisfying changes, there remain a host of issues that are proving annoying, mostly centered around the wide variety of opinions of what is right and wrong, compounded by the fact that condo regulations are simply words on a page and mostly unenforceable unless one chooses to spend $$ on legal action.

All of that is what it is, as the old saying goes. If Condo Life were a classroom and was given a realistic grade of 90-95%, most of use would be pretty happy with that level of achievement, but that 5% can be so irritating at times ... breathe Stephen, breathe.

I've fallen in love with Canada all over again

It doesn't take a great deal of time or effort to "Google" stats on the Quality of Life or Life Satisfaction around the planet, the numbers quickly pointing in Canada's favour. It's not a fluke that when we have travelled to parts other than the USA, the local's attitudes change immediately when they learn we're Canadian, smiles appears, tones change, and the whole interaction becomes amenable. That's why when the present US administration decided to pick a fight with our nation, threatening a significant change to a life we'd grown accustomed to, a side of Canada appeared that caused some raised eyebrows. What was a sense of concern has morphed into a sense of confidence as new trade relationships have been established to replace the damaged ones, augmented by the "Canada First" notion bolstering inter-nation trade thanks to some subtle and not-so-subtle changes to interprovincial tariffs.

My swelling patriotism causes a feeling of, "Yeah, we got this!", and all it really took was a conscious decision to spend dollars in a different stream. Sure, being a snow-covered nation for nearly half of the year, there are some US products that we cannot avoid like fresh produce and the like, but it didn't take long to develop the mindset of checking labels before tossing into the grocery cart. It's not like I wish a complete divorce from US manufacturers since many of them bare no responsibility for the way things developed, but if there's a way to direct my dollars internally, even if it costs a few more of them, then I'll choose that option first every single time.

The future of North American trade is certainly murky right now, but I suspect that it will emerge from the cocoon bearing no resemblance what so ever to what entered, and I have great confidence that Canada will become a stronger, more independent nation because of it. As with so many regimes, eventually the failures will tip the scales back to a more responsible, respectful leadership group and Canada will begin to build new bridges of trade with our longtime neighbours.  

It's great to be back writing again, and I hope you enjoy!

The Right stuff!

As many of you are already very aware, a good portion of my life has centered around athletics, be it as a participant or a coach, so I feel that I have a comprehensive understanding of the multi-pronged reality that is competition. I stumbled across the following little post by Casey Huff on her FB page in the fall of 2025. When I first read her thoughts, I was immediately moved by both the message and the tone, and I have great respect for her ability as a writer. 

I had shelved this piece since creating it a few months ago, but with the turn of the calendar page to 2026, I'm feeling that I'd like to revisit the habit of sharing my thoughts, so here's one partially because of it's connection with a personal passion, but also since I was reminded of it's message after sitting on my hind end watching the College Football Playoff bowl games. 

In twenty years, it won't matter if they were the best on the team, if they were the fastest on the field, or if they had the most impressive stats. It won't matter if they were recognized for their accomplishments or if they ever received the title of "MVP". It won't matter if their travel team was the best in the league, or if other coaches ever pointed them out and said, "Keep an eye on that kid." It won't matter if they started every game or scored the game-winning run.

Don't get me wrong, I'm my kids' biggest fan. I LOVE watching them in all of their activities. I'm proud and honoured to get to do so. And yes, we're a family who likes to win (and I think that's okay!), but sometimes, it's easy to lose sight of the fact that so much of this sports-parent season is temporary. We get caught up in the competitiveness of wanting our kid to be the best, when really it's kind of insignificant in the bigger picture of their lives.

In twenty years, the things that WILL matter are the other skills our kids are learning during their time playing youth sports. The skills they'll only learn if we put our parent egos aside and have fewer conversations about stats and more conversations about things like:

Kindness.

Humility.

Hard work.

Being a team player.

Supporting their peers.

Being a good sport even when things don't go their way.

Right now, sports are such a big part of our world. From the outside it seems like our kids are working on things like proper technique and fundamentals of the game, and that's part of it, sure, but really this is an even bigger chance for them to learn lessons about life.

And when they've hung up their cleats for the very last time, I hope to walk into the next season of life knowing we haven't just raised accomplished athletes, we've raised incredible humans.

I recall walking into a Rec Center in somewhere-ville Ontario that had a sign posted for all to view as they entered (NOT the one at right, but it's similar). I'm paraphrasing, but it contained a message about, "No college scholarships will be handed out today" and that parents/spectators are reminded, "It's about the love of the game or activity" and not about winning or losing. It further reminded visitors that respect was a core value in that facility and pervaded all aspects of the activities housed therein.

How cool is that?

As Ms Casey alluded to, the vast majority of young athletes are simply exploring ways to have fun, learning through activity by way of a healthy active life, with a very small percentage (that shrinks rapidly with each year) of athletes that might develop the passion requisite for elite competition sometime in the future. Her identification of Humility ... Kindness ... Effort ... Cooperation ... Empathy ... Resilience ... are vital life skills for all, skills that would seem to be in shorter supply these days in today's parks, rinks, rec centers, and classrooms, or at least the places I visit. Her thoughts on this are like a breath of fresh air on the on the far side of a manure-infused stretch of country road.

I feel really good that she and I share a common opinion, but you might not, and that's okay.

Looking at my own kids, score a big gold star for Joyce and I. Yay us!

A Tough celebration

Benjamin Franklin famously wrote in 1789, "In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes." Joyce and I have reached that point in life where we completely understand what Ben meant. 

Taxes are a regular topic of discussion around our dinner table thanks to our present state of things, but death visited our Circle recently when one of my family's oldest friends passed over the rainbow bridge after encountering some health complications. The funeral service was this past weekend, and despite the sadness of passing, the stories of a life well lived brought smiles and a chuckles, the remembrance of a stellar woman / sibling / spouse / mom / Nana / G-Nana was wholly celebrated by family and friends. 

Elizabeth Ann (Maroney) Tough passed away on February 26th, 2025, having seen and accomplished a great number of things in her almost 85 years. Although the exact circumstances have become dusty and occluded over the more than 5 decades, I first met BA when my mom and dad bought a semidetached little slice of heaven on Gaylong Court in Toronto, right across the street from Jim and Betty Ann Tough and their 2 children Karen and Michael. For over 50 years, our 2 families have laughed, cried, danced, swam, BBQ'd, hugged, and thoroughly enjoyed each other's company, the highlight being an annual gathering almost exclusively held on the August Civic Holiday weekend. We were "cut from different cloth" as far as personalities go, but that didn't serve as divisive, rather we embraced the variety like a hearty bowl of vegetable soup ... we were warmed from the inside out. 

As Old Man Time marches on, our 2 families have progressed much the same as many, aging gracefully (or not) as Gen 1 greyed, Gen 2 adulted begetting grandkids, Gen 3 also adulted begetting great grandkids, the ebb and flow of this Life throwing challenges that we shared as we conquered. The sadness of loss aside, our cadre has passed on our love's light from generation to generation to generation, the importance of maintaining contact carefully planed and nurtured to ensure the sense of belonging to something bigger continued by receiving regular infusions. The umbrella of caring even extended outwards to include Betty Ann's younger brother Gary as his presence became a welcomed familiarity.

Throughout those years, our group met the challenges of Life head on, each member becoming enveloped in a shroud of selflessness, caring, and connection as we grew to understand how each of us had our strengths, quirks, likes, and dislikes that became almost as familiar as the face we saw every morning in the mirror. 

We've lost a few members along the way.

One of the reasons our clan became so close occurred early on when the Tough's eldest child Karen was tragically killed when navigating a pedestrian crosswalk not far from their home. The grief of burying a child was both devastating and gilding as my parents consoled BA and Jim over their family's tragedy. The time the grieving required brought about opportunity for the kids involved to build relationships of their own, and with Mike and I being of similar age, we joined the other children on our little court in discovering all that the neighbourhood held. As the saying goes, "when one door closes, another opens", bringing with it the light of healing when BA and Jim refocused their "cup runneth over" love by adopted a wee one they named Jennifer, a cherubic little bundle of happiness that was quickly embraced by all in our clan.

Many years later, Death visited us again when my father succumbed to cancer, the tables being turned as the Toughs rallied around my family, helping us navigate our profound sense of loss. By this time, our numbers had swollen, bringing opportunity for the younger to understand the Circle of Life and all that this sense of loss included in its offer. During my family's grieving, the Toughs reminded us of the plethora of happy memories, their light casting away the shadows of our sadness, our tears lovingly wiped away with the laughter of familiarity.

Many who might read this will also be astutely aware of my brother Dave's death nearly 2 years ago now. I've written about that already so you all know how that impacted our class, and we're still reeling over that one, but the Tough clan rallied around us again, selflessly showing their support in our time of need.

Betty Ann's passing was inevitable, just as Ben Franklin proclaimed, and we hugged our way through her absence with beautifully penned reminders from her brother Gary, and her children Jennifer and Michael, each a splendid expose of all that BA shared with the world during her years. The sense of absence I felt was impactful in that I felt like I had lost a quasi-parent, BA's presence having become a part of my life's foundation after so many years. My heart goes out to all who gathered in their effort to find some comfort for the emptiness, and especially to the Tough family who have had to live up to their namesake in the past couple of weeks.

RIP Betty Ann

Enjoy your teary reunion with Karen.

Give my dad Terry a hug from all of us.

Tell my brother Dave that we still talk about his absence.