Bewildering achievement

Like so many that have the capability, when the olympic calendar indicates either a summer or winter Olympics is happening, I make time in my day to watch because I'm not in the least bit shy about admitting my appreciation for the talent, training, and dedication these athletes demonstrate. As a former high level athlete myself, and a coach of so many I was blessed to interact with as they honed their own skills and talents, I shake my head in awe at what is considered "normal" in today's international competitions.

I was having a conversation with a friend a month ago, right around when the winter able-bodied Olympics were beginning, and the comment was offered, "What get's me is that in the summer Olympics, we celebrate how strong, how fast, or how skilled the athletes are, but the the winter Olympics it seems we celebrate how crazy they are, as we marvel at whether or not they'll survive." 

Think about what you know right now about the differences between the two seasonal competitions. The summer games focus on running, swimming, jumping, or throwing the fastest, furthest, or highest, but in contrast, the winter games are about flying through the air doing the most tricks ... or flying down a mountain the fastest ... or staying on the ice or snow surface in some razor-sharp blades at 120 kph. Even cross country skiing is spiced up by throwing in rifles?

Here's an even more alarming thought ...

Survive flying down a mountain at 100 kph following your guide because you're visually impaired! We test people's eyesight to allow them to drive on our nation's roads safely, then award some young lady or gentleman a big hunk o' gold for taking the greatest risk when they strap some slippery boards to their feet and point as straight as possible down a mountain. Better still, we create a category for those with an impaired or missing leg, where they can sit down, on ONE ski, and do the same thing! 

Want to have an OMG moment? Watch the Paralympics before they finish.

Being a 100% red 'n white Canuck, I have to include sledge hockey, the Paralympic version of our nation's passion. Push aside the fact that these athletes are balancing on a single blade while sitting in a metal gurney, how about the fact that they propel down the ice surface, twisting and turning, powered by only their arms as they use specially designed mini sticks with picks on the nub to provide traction as they push? Ever played mini sticks? Think about how strong your arms and wrists have to be to shoot the puck the way they do! 

Ever heard of the biathlon? That's where you cross country ski so fast and hard that you collapse in a heap as you cross the finish line. Some of these wonders of humanhood throw in the task of target shooting in the middle of a race, forcing themselves to lie on their belly, hold their breath as they will their heart from hammering in their chest, and attempt to hit a 45 mm target from 50 m five times in a row, trying to avoid adding penalty distance to the length they race. That's apparently not challenging enough for some, so in the Paralympics they have a race for visually impaired athletes ... they give guns to people who struggle to see? These incredible athletes use sound to target the coin-sized target! Some don't have arms so they can't use poles or hold the gun in their lack of hands, yet shoot the rifle they do, rarely missing!

"Hey, wait a minute Steve!" you might yell.

How are all of those races fair since some athletes are way more impaired than others!

Enter another Paralympic modification. The racers are given a percentage of impairment that is used to calculate a timing factor that is used to arrive at their final clocking. A more abled racer is factor 99 or 100%, while someone missing a limb, or has a paralyzed limb, might have a factor 82% meaning that their time is 82% of their finish time of X minutes and seconds. Some of these super heroes require outrigger poles to stay upright because they only have one leg. Imaging yourself competing in the downhill, going 90 or 100 kph on three skis ... one on a foot and two in your hands? How about doing so through 100 poles in a winding weaving slalom course?

So many of us marvel at the Usain Bolts of the world, the fact he can cover 100 m in the mind boggling world record of 9.59 seconds because we've all run flat out at some point in our lives so we can at the very least have a partial understanding of his incredible ability. I can't speak for you, but I cannot identify with someone who can sit in some space-age contraption mounted to a single ski, complete with shock absorbers, then twist and turn down a mountain as fast as possible without wiping out. There were a few wipeouts in the "sit ski" races I watched and they were what we used to call "Yard Sales" when I ski raced ... there were bits and pieces of equipment scattered all over the hill. 

Who looks at a race like that and says, "Sign me up"?

What about curling? If you've ever actually tried it, on ice, you have to appreciate what they can make those polished chunks of granite do, but think about how difficult it is to do so from a wheelchair, and instead of using your hands, you use a modified Shuffleboard pole. I saw the Canadian Skip perform a perfect double takeout, squeezing through two guards barely larger that the diameter of the rock, and take out 2 opponent rocks with out touching his own 4. 

Think I'm exaggerating? Look up the highlight ... incredible!

I think that we all should give our Olympians a tip of the hat, both able bodied and disabled, because they deserve our respect, applause, admiration, and support. 

At least, that's my opinion.

Thanks for reading!

Life is Hard!

This piece was prompted by yet another little nugget of wisdom floating out there on the Interweb waiting to for my eyeballs to settle on. I'm pretty sure I've let the proverbial "cat outta the bag" surrounding my Love-Hate relationship with social media, but I do sincerely love it when a trip down the wormhole lands me at the foot of some intellectual gemstone.

Ryan Leak ... according to Goggle Books
Ryan Leak is a best-selling author, esteemed executive coach, and a highly sought-after transformational speaker. With an incredible reach of over 1 million people every year through his keynotes, Ryan's words have the power to transform lives. Each year, he dedicates his expertise and research to the growth of over 100,000 leaders, spanning the spectrum from Fortune 100 corporations to elite professional sports teams. While Ryan wears many hats, the ones he is most proud to wear are husband to Amanda and father to Jaxson and Roman.

The following is a transcripts of videos that the good Mr Leak circulated, a viewing that left me head scratching and ruminating, so much so that it prompted a further looksy into who he is and what he's about. I'll admit that I'm a bit of a sucker for powerful motivational speakers, and judging by Mr Leak's videos, he'd be quite the experience to be enjoyed live.

Life is going to be hard either way, so choose your difficult. Starting a business? That’s hard. But so is staying in a job that drains you. Forgiving someone who hurt you? That’s hard. But so is carrying the weight of bitterness. Saying no to things so you can prioritize what matters most? That’s hard. But so is being spread too thin and losing yourself. Being vulnerable with someone you love? That’s hard. But so is feeling alone even when you’re in a room full of people. 

Growth is uncomfortable. But staying stuck is worse. You don’t get to skip the hard stuff in life, but you do get to pick which version you’re willing to live with. 

Don’t choose easy. 

Choose worth it.

OR

One of my favourite quotes is from Glennon Doyle, "If you can’t beat the fear, just do it scared." I get that you’ve got a lot on your plate… but who says you can’t just do it overwhelmed? I get that you’re exhausted… but who says you can’t just do it tired? I know you might be battling anxiety or depression… but who says you can’t just do it anyway? Who says you can’t lead nervous? Launch misunderstood? Build after betrayal? Create while criticized? Who made the rule that you had to feel 100% ready before you moved? My friend, when you just do it, regardless of whether your emotions are in sync with your ambitions, you get the thing money can’t buy ... Discipline ... Courage ... Momentum. And the kind of confidence that only comes from doing hard things anyway. Just do it scared. Just do it tired. Just do it unsure. Just. Do. It.

While he seems to me to be focussing on business applications, the messages really apply to almost any situation that one might encounter in Life, and what value his words bring! Should these snippets also resonate with you and what you're about, you can find Ryan Leak on a number of platforms, but the one I've chosen is Instagram (CLICK) because as much as audio Podcasts are awesome, I personally glean greater understanding from the non-verbal cues that a video allows.

I'm not trumpeting Mr Leak as a guru, sage, or counsellor, although perhaps those are titles that he would love others to use, but like a few others our there, I find that his words spark healthy introspection that prompts me to examine decisions and intentions, challenging their value and validity at this stage in Life. If that's not your thing, "No harm, No foul", but aren't you happy I shared something if it is your thing?

Thanks for reading!

Just simply Bo

This week's piece is another heavy-hearted one.

Robert "Bo" Howes passed recently, leaving literally 1000's of former players and colleagues in a profound state of melancholy, the impact of a life well lived by a great human being.

Bo lived quite the Life, on his own terms, following a path that was less trodden. Born in Kirkland Lake in 1943, he eventually joined the Tricolour of Queen's, playing both football and basketball in the sixties, before being drafted by the CFL's BC Lions in 1968, but he is most widely known for being captain and All Star center for the the Edmonton Eskimos when they made a previously unmatched run of Grey Cup Championships, first in 1975, then 4 straight from 1978 to 1981. Bo retired from the CFL in 1981, quickly transitioning to the sidelines for the Gaels, first as an assistant, then as Head Coach, winning OQIFC Coach of the Year in 1995 and 1997. Even when he stepped back from full time coaching, he was both assistant and director of Football at U of T and later assisted at St Francis Xavier. 

Bo's impact of Canadian university football was widespread and deep.

Bo was the defensive line coach during my years at Queen's, and since I was on the offensive line, we spent a significant amount of our practice hours in head-to-head bashing breakdown drills. Possessor of a brilliant sense of humour wrapped up in a unique view on Life, I was the target of many a "Bo-isms" throughout my years. By far the biggest impact on my football career came thanks to a particular skill he shared and developed in me, one of the many skills that made him of value to the Lions and Eskimos, the long snap. I arrived at Queen's in 1982, a period where there was a need for a long snapper, and when Bo arrived in 1983, he was quick to take me under his wing, helping me be the number one choice for my entire career at Queens. Like so many other niche skills in sports, the casual fan doesn't appreciate the value of the long snap to the success of a team, and thanks to Bo's tutelage, it was something Queens didn't have to worry about for the years I played. During our shared time, I grew to appreciate all that Bo was and stood for, a coaching style that significantly impacted the development of my own coaching style for the next 40 years.

I am very proud to have called Bo a friend and am forever grateful for the time he invested in me.

Despite his successes, what truly makes this a sad day is that a genuine gentleman has left us, leaving behind a multitude that will experience an encompassing sense of loss, the effect Bo had on so many. Quick with a smile, a compliment, and a joke, his eyes revealed a deep commitment to his fellow man.

RIP Bo ... We will miss you ... and sincerely thank you for being in our lives.

"A long, long time ago ..."

When your youngest child turns 30, it triggers all manner of thoughts, not the least of which is reminiscing about the "good old days", and that led to this little jog down Memory Lane.

Are you on FB? 

That's a stupid question if you arrived here because you likely clicked the link from my FB feed, but maybe less stupid if you arrived here through Instagram. If you're reading this because you actively seek out my writing, well, you're just flat out awesome! Either way, the preview of this piece created enough curiousity to push your fingertip to click or tap.

The following makes it's rounds on various social media platforms from time to time. Some love them, some hate them, but for my opinion, they serve to cause a reminiscing grin because they shake off the dust from so many memories. As an almost official Old Fart, these questions force a walk down Memory Lane, a journey that has stops at vague recollections of memorable fun experiences, really awesome people, or wholly satisfying accomplishments. 

Senior Year in 1982

This is funny ... now ... but it was all business back then!

Think about your SENIOR year in High School, if you can remember that long ago.
The longer ago it was, the more fun the answers will be!

Class of: 1982

1. Did you know your current love? Nope, discovered my bestie at Uni, in downtown Kingston!

2. Type of car?  My dad's burnt orange OPEL GT, a sort of baby corvette with flip over lights.

3. What kind of job? A host of part time affairs but the longest one was security at Barrie Raceway.

4. Where did you live? Barrie's "Snob Hill" as the locals referred to it back then.

5. Were you popular? I had boatloads of friends who smiled when I was around, so Yes?

6. Were you in choir/band? Nope, ran with the Jock clique ... still do.

7. Ever get suspended? Nope, that would mean I couldn't play sports, and that would have killed me.

8. If you could would you go back? As enticing that might be, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't. I like now!

9. Still talk to the person that you went to prom with? Yep, she was even my boss recently!

10. Did you skip school? Nope ... see #7!

11. Go to all the football games? Yep, had a front row seat! 5 year starter that led to 5 years in Uni!

12. Favourite subjects? PHE and Science ... exactly what I took in Uni!

13. Do you still have your yearbook? You betcha! Loved them so much, I taught Yearbook in HS!

14. Did you follow your original career path? I fancied medicine briefly, but teaching was in my heart!

15. Do you still have your senior ring? YEP! It's in pretty rough shape but still fits!

16. Who was your favourite teacher? TOUGH! Liked a host of them and they became great friends!

17. What was your style? 100% Jock, through and through. Denim, Grebs, Sweats, Tees ... Jock stuff!

18. Favorite Shoes? Grebs everyday; Converse and Puma on the court/field; Penny loafers for dress.

19. Favourite thing to eat for lunch? What ever my mom had in the fridge, but Cafe fries were a treat!

20. Favorite Band/Singer? Rush, Van Halen, Jackson 5, Kool and the Gang ... still FAVs!

21. High school hair? Flowing shoulder length locks, parted in the middle.

22. What was your favourite perfume / cologne? Halston ... still have a bottle!

23. How old when you graduated? 18 and never been ... scratch that thought!

24. Who do you think will play along and fill this out? Fellow Old Farts from my graduating class!

25. How was this trip down Memory Lane? Frickin' outstanding and FULL of smiles!

Not sure who dreamed this up originally, but thank you for making this old geezer smile!

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