Birthdays ... Gotta LUV 'em V4.0

First off, my apologies to the FAM about the tardiness of this post. I was doing so well with keeping on track, but the move to Guelph and selling the homestead occupied so many of the day's minutes it resulted in a neglect of duty. As I previously wrote, February is a busy birthday month, closely followed by March, but June/July's celebrations are outmatched when it comes to focus! There are 9 people in my extended FAM from mid June to mid July, with my sister-in-law Cheryl Porter and cousin Chris Hopkins on June 18th, my cousin Warren Dean on June 19th, my brother Dave on June 20th, the remembrance of my Papa, Jack Keachie, on June 21st, my new cousin-in-law Alyssa Hopkins on June 28th, my SIL Jenn Porter on June 30th, my SIL Kate Porter on July 2nd, my niece-in-law Krista Sarazin (Foster) is July 13th and my nephew Marcus Porter is July 24th.

My SIL Cheryl, quite frankly, is a saint. Truth be told, all of the partners of the Porter boys are saints because we're all acquired tastes, to say the least. Cheryl is in my top 5 as one of the kindest, caring people I know, and she has the patience of Job ... if you know my brother Dave, you'll be nodding your head right now. She is a wonderful mother having raised two awesome, smart, talented kids, and she has spread her love wide by welcoming first a Chinese international student, Erin, into her home for 4 years, soon to be followed up with a German International student arriving in September. Although naturally quiet, when she does wish to interject into the conversation it is often insightful and intelligent. Oh, and she's also a dedicated mom to her Uber love-hungry fur baby Venus.

My cousin Chris recently became a father for the first time with the birth of his daughter Marielle.  After Chris married a sweetheart of a lady Alyssa 3 years ago, his life was flipped upside down, and Marielle won't make it any less exciting. In this day and age of social media, they've shared some gorgeous photos of Marielle and she certainly takes after the Hopkins side of the family ... so far. Chris is my aunt Faulene's (my dad's sister) oldest, and it's frightening to see how much he's like my brother Dave, making the fact that Dave is Chris' god father rather spooky. I hate to admit it, but I don't know my cousin very well, but I will tell you that what I do recognize in him are the best qualities of his mom ... compassion, caring, intelligence and wit. I'm sure Alyssa already knows, but in case it's escaped her notice, she chose very well indeed. The only thing that makes all of this better is that Alyssa celebrated Motherhood with a birthday in late June, meaning their FAM has a big birthday stretch since Marielle's birthday is May 26th. Pretty Cool!

My cousin Warren is my Aunt Merle's (my mom's sister) oldest. As the senior member of a gaggle of kiddies that spent their formative years together testing the their mother's boundaries, siblings Bryan + Margot, plus my brothers Dave, Rob and Mike and I challenged the two sister's patience despite deciding to raise 7 little ones wagering it would be easier if it was a joint effort. Some of you may recall Merle because I recently wrote about her passing (CLICK). Growing up in the same town, spending days together in the pool or at Wasaga or in a park, and teasing the heck out of each other, we became pretty close. Naturally, as we set our sights on the teenage years, we spent less time together, but I'm happy to say the path converged as we all had children of our own. Warren is a chemist by trade, but spent a great many years as a brewing specialist with Molson's, a dream job that came about thanks to the co-op program at Waterloo U. He's also the owner of the most eclectic tastes of the hoard of 7, being an avid outdoorsman and Scout Leader, a gardener, a musician (guitar), and an athlete (rugby!). He is the possessor of a great sense of humour, a wonderful "glass is half full" attitude and kindness that knows no bounds. 

I've written about my brother Dave a few times in the past (CLICK) so I won't rehash the details, but I will say that besides being my 54 year old brother, and the mandatory sibling love that comes with that, he is easily one of the most intelligent and tech savy of the 4 boys, in addition to being the possessor of an acerbic wit, a huge recall of factoids, and the heart/mind of a tinkerer. He is the one that followed our father into the service of Rotary, volunteering on their Executive both locally and regionally for a number of years. If all of that wasn't enough, he's now a Vlogger on YouTube!
I've said it before, but it bears repeating, he's an amazing dude!

June 21st will forever be a day of remembrance in our family as we reminisce about the great times spent with our Papa, Jack Keachie, who was born in 1898. Papa was my mom's father and I have many fantastic memories of the time I spent with him prior to his passing in 1988. He and my Nana would often be enlisted to mind the four Warts when my parents would get a small respite travelling or getting together with friends. In my grandparent's relationship, Papa was the cook while Nana was the baker, which means that a goodly portion of my memories of him surrounded Papa's tasty meals. Easily the clearest and most intense are the memories of his breakfasts, the bacon and French Toast sizzling their way through the airwaves of the house, nudging me out of bed earlier than normal. When Papa was around, you had to wear your slippers or you weren't welcomed at the table, a leftover of his Scottish upbringing. He led quite the life ... young Jack fought in WWI as a 17 year old, suffered some PTSD that caused some long recovery after the war's end, a long and profitable career with Grand and Toy, and not the least of which was his amazing partnership with my Nana in job raising my mom and aunt.

Jenn Porter came into our family when she said yes to my brother Rob's proposal. She grew up in Collingwood but we've never held that against her ... giggle ... and has a larger than life personality, which is to say that she is not afraid to tell you what she thinks or to share an opinion about a topic at hand. She also loves large, investing herself totally and wholly with those she deems worthy of her affection. Jenn is a warrior in how she has dealt with her personal battles and we're all thrilled that she is winning victories with regularity. Living up to her natural fiery red hair colour, she is the spark to my brother Rob's flame plus she had a big hand in how awesome my nephew's turned out. 

Well, the cat's out of the bag ... I'm officially a dolt! In the original post I neglected to include my SIL Kate Porter who's birthday is on July 2nd. I have no excuses for that, so I simply fall on my sword. What a terrible way to treat such a sweetheart of a lady. For those that know my brothers and I, and especially know my brother Mike, you will immediately have an appreciation for what a gift from heaven (actually, she's from BC but some say that's the same) Kate is. A very kind soul, she has the patience of Job, is a self-professed cat lady, and likes nothing more than spending time with her own company ... and her PS4 ... and her cats! HaHa! My sincerest apologies to Kate for the oversight. The good news is that it will never happen again!

My niece-in-law Krista is Joyce's brother Gary's oldest. Since Gary's extended family lives on the other side of Ontario from us (Pembroke area), we haven't spent as much time as any of us would have preferred, but the time we did invest allowed for a "sneak peek" at the amazingness that is Krista. She has always been a big influence in her brother Jamie's life with him being on the spectrum and requiring an extra set of hands to help with learning life, and those skills eventually led her down the pathway to Special Education as an Educational Assistant. She is an outstanding mom to two gorgeous little 'uns Levi and Lexy, and shares her amazingness with her husband Jeff, an officer in the Armed Forces. 

Rounding this lengthy list is my nephew Marcus, my brother Rob's oldest. Marcus is what I would affectionately term a "Good Ol' Boy" because he is generally an upbeat, happy, outgoing person with a big laugh, a huge heart, and a lust for fun times. He landed himself a well paying job and quickly made the decision to treat himself to a large orange Dodge Ram pickup, completing the picture of the GOB. Being a fellow man of girth, I greatly appreciated his prowess on the football field, but it was his effervescence and passion that drew others to him like moths to a flame. With school behind him, he's turned his sights on the outdoor life, as the photo as the left attests. The moniker of GOB, is his case, is a badge he should wear with honour!

Happiest birthday wishes and thoughts to each of them!

Transitions are a part of life!

One thing about the month of June when you've chosen a career in education is the buzz of excitement and anticipation that is palpable through the hallways of schools that is a direct result of the impending transitions looming on the horizon. For the students, it is the transition of growth, be it moving up the education food chain to Top Dog in the school, or the metamorphosis from Big Fish in a little pond to Little Fish in the ocean of post secondary. For the teachers, it is the transition from year to year changes surrounding new courses or curriculum alterations, or the arrival at the end of a journey's pathway at the edge of the retirement cliff, fraught with the anxiety of leaving what has defined a life for so many years.

During the whirlwind of relocation to Guelph, I was honoured to be included in the retirement festivities of a few fine people that I have grown to value over my years involved with education.

My "new" friend, Peter Glass, the HPE leader at Barrie North, is retiring after 30 years of leading the way for the Vikings, both in and out of the classroom. I refer to our friendship as new, but in reality, we've been acquainted for a number of years through our involvements in extracurriculars. The "Glassman" has reached the end of his tenure and was visibly torn by his decision at the little shindig we had for him recently since teaching-coaching for him, like most of us in attendance that day, was a passion that would create a void in his retirement soul. Always humble and endearing, Pete accepted both barbs and praises as his longtime Viking colleagues regaled the feats and blunders of his storied career, but the personal highlight for me was the quiet, private conversation we shared around my appreciation for how willingly and quickly he took me under his wing when I arrived at North in 2016. Our friendship has progressed quickly over a short span of years to the point where we mutually feel strong ties of connection. It didn't hurt our friendship any when his son Alex decided to play on my Sr Basketball team giving us more opportunity to share stories and thoughts on road trips. 

The Glassman's career is the stuff of legends, fuelled by his undying passion, wholesome commitment, acerbic sense of humour, and genuine concern over educating the whole child. Humble and honest, he is a "doer", choosing to put his head down and get to work rather than host a debate about how and why it needs to get done. Quick with a smile and a compliment, his demeanour is appreciated and loved by the vast majority of students who cross is path, but should they choose to wander, they are quickly reminded that straying is non-negotiable. Pete lives his life large! Whether it is work or play, he occupies the poles of activity, rather than muddle around in the middle, meaning that he is rarely misunderstood. 

Peter Glass is really good people and I am not alone in the sentiment that he will be missed around the hallways of Barrie North.

Another "new" friend is choosing to walk across the retirement threshold after spending 23 unforgettable years at St Thomas Aquinas CHS in Tottenham. I call our friendship new, but the reality is that we have been astutely aware of each other for many, many years through our passions surrounding extracurriculars, more specifically as head coaches of the basketball programs of our schools. My earliest memory of Pat Dooley surrounds my astonishment and admiration for his incredible passion and intensity, but I have to be honest that on our first encounter I thought he was a little over the top. I soon learned that it was 100% Dooley, no games, no acting, and that his players would go through a brick wall for him. Over the years we had a mutual respect for our programs and coaching abilities that eventually grew into longer and longer post-game chats. One of Pat's more endearing qualities is his willingness to be brutally honest, and I was a huge fan of it! We definitely haven't always see eye-to-eye on everything, but the list steadily shrank as the years progressed. Another outstanding quality he demonstrates is fierce loyalty, something that is not easy when dealing with teenagers who can screw up massively from time to time. 

Now that we are both retired, we can find some time to share beverages, stories and opinions on a patio. If Pat ever reads this post he can consider that an invitation and the first round is on me!

With each passing year, more and more colleagues reach the same point in their careers and take the leap of faith into the unfamiliar waters of retirement. I couldn't be happier for them and applaud their decision, especially considering what they've endured over the past 15 months! At the risk of missing someone I should have named, I'd love to also congratulate BNC's Peter Ritchie, JOA's Mike Greene, and HHS John Cowan. 

Welcome to the club!
Retirement really is everything they say it is!

A place for our "stuff"

In one of his most famous schticks, the late George Carlin regales the task of having "stuff", storing your "stuff", downsizing your "stuff", and valuing your "stuff". Those that have seen this routine will immediately attest that Carlin was not quite so G-rated, but the idea is the same.

You can find Carlin's wisdom here Click Here

It never quite seems real until the nasty actually happens, and while that sounds pretty ominous, I'm referring to our recent move from our home city for the last 30+ years to the fine city of Guelph. The big day was filled with loads of sweat, Herculean efforts, the occasional curse outburst, and even a wispy eyeball of two, culminating in a condo-full of disheveled chaos with each room in a state that would make a hoarder blush. When that condo is to be occupied by two type-A personas like Joyce and I the task at hand is quickly undertaken, and in our madness, we neglected to record the chaos for posterity's sake. 

When we agreed to sell out home of 30 years, we also agreed to a considerably long closing, so when the big day of moving finally arrived, both of us were up to our collective eyeballs with living in the boxed, Spartan conditions of our final days. We made lists and checked them twice like some reincarnated St Nick, filled 90% of the garage with the boxed-up memories of our married life, and disassembled all our really big "stuff". Even though the moving van was scheduled for 8:30 am, we were sitting with a cup of Joe in hand, eagerly awaiting the day's start.

We had contracted Rockbrune Bros Movers because I knew one of the owners, John Rockbrune, but having never hired movers before we were ill prepared for the sheer brilliance of the two young men assigned to be our saviours. Jason and Donald immediately demonstrated their expertise with a quick evaluation of our "stuff", quickly formulating a battle plan. If I have learned nothing as a father and home owner who failed miserably at a wide variety of Bungalow Bill tasks, it is that having the correct tools for the job makes everything smoother, and our two guys made light work of packing the truck in under 80 minutes. 

We hadn't seen anything yet.

When the moving truck and our Tacoma arrived at the condo in Guelph, the real talent became readily apparent with Jason and Donald working with the choreographed precision of a well rehearsed orchestra as our crap was tenderly transferred from the truck to our second floor condo. Incredulous at their efforts, I felt compelled to counsel Donald that he needn't sprint the hallways between hauling efforts, but I was reassured that this was the normal way of doing things. 

Who'd have thunk?

The truck arrived at our Barrie doorstep at 8:45 am and departed our condo parking lot at 2:00 pm. As I have already said, we have very little experience with this stuff, but we feel strongly that this was an amazing effort, especially when you factor in 3.75 hours of that was driving!

The rest of the day was spent arranging, unpacking, sifting, sorting, and deciding on numerous first world problems like which glass vase stays or which pair of shoes gets gifted. Sure, we moved a number of items that we should have donated or trashed, but until you have downsized from a detached house to a condo, I won't be listening to your meanderings. As the day's light slowly faded, the surroundings were looking more and more comforting and inviting. True to form, we proclaimed victory by 11:00 am the day ofter the move.

The only glitch in the entire day surrounded our Rogers installation. Over the years we have reduced our need for Roger's services to the point where only wireless and wifi remain. I was informed that moving from Barrie to Guelph would mean that our "legacy" service was not an option so we had to arrange for a more recent version to be installed. The technician was certainly competent, but as luck would have it, things didn't work the way they were supposed to, necessitating a second technician the following day to diagnose the issue. In the end, he located the issue ... it's always a simple thing ... it was 24 hours without wifi. Oh how we suffered, says he with all the dripping sarcasm possible. If that was the only issue, I'd venture that we made out pretty gosh-darned well.

I'm writing this post in my trusty recliner, laptop sitting perched atop my things in familiarity, taking in the new vistas, and counting my blessings at how fortunate and lucky we are to be able to take a flier on relocating so late in life. 

I think that we will truly feel okay in these new surroundings.

I even squeezed in a bike ride in my new community today.

Life is Good!

Pondering is a form of prayer

We're sliding into the middle of June 2021, and a bunch of things occurred last week that left me in a head-scratching moment, thoughts swirling and coursing through my brain, most being of a positive nature, but a few leaving the pangs of anguish gnawing at my soul.

The announcement of a mass burial site at the former Kamloops Residential School containing 215 innocent victims of Canada's shameful legacy in aboriginal affairs left me in a funk-filled quandary, the flames of anger further fanned at the announcement of additional victims found at the site of a Manitoba Residential School site. I have a number of friends and family members that proudly display their aboriginal heritage, and I feel strongly that I have always supported the fair and equal treatment of all Canadians, regardless of culture or ethnicity, but I'm awash in shame with the knowledge that my ancestors could have treated their fellow man in such an egregious manner. While restitution for all families affected is paramount to movement forward, for me the more important issue is our complacency as a people that we have allowed politicians to skirt the issue for so long. Action is needed and I will begin my small part with demands that locally elected officials take this forward to their respective legislatures.

Whew! That's an emotional way to begin!

The moving process has continued this week, bolstered by the continual treks down the backroads to the new-to-us condo in Guelph, the Tacoma packed to the roof with mementoes of 30 years deemed too valuable to leave at the mercy of a moving van. As we reduce the contents of our familiar surroundings, double checking the necessity of each, attempting to keep the emotional attachment at bay, the quantity that will be relocated shrinks faster than my Johnson in a frigid lake. Even with all possible scrutiny, I know there will be some things that we simply can't part with that will be taken with us, only to be re-evaluated at a later date in 2021, but the emotions and memories win out for the time being. I like to hold the opinion that I have a fair amount on the ball thanks to a self-diagnosed above average intelligence, but do you think that I can visualize the various quantities of furniture that fill our new condo? Without them being physically present? It's a colossal struggle, but I guess that's all a part of the excitement of moving, as the oh-so-familiar gives way to a refreshingly new perspective. 

One of my self-diagnosed character flaws is an OCD-level sensitivity to things that seem out of place.

This "affliction" has resulted in a number of bumps in the road over the years, many of which involved the mechanics of my modern life. It seems, as the proof is in the pudding, that I am extremely aware when sounds emit from things that aren't supposed to make those sounds. In my past, I have been applauded for that. My good friend Craig Shaw who was my go-to auto source of advice (and the reason that my son Keaton chose a career in diesel mechanics) has remarked on a few occasions that most people wouldn't pay heed to the squeak or creak their vehicle was making and seek out advice on whether or not it requires attention. 

This "super power" recently reared it's head with my fairly new Argon18 Dark Matter bike when it developed a creak that was definitely out of place, and after confirming that the bike shouldn't be sounding like that with my Uber talented friend Hardy Wind, meant that a trip to Whitby's Impala Bikes was in the cards. Some of you may not know, but when I purchased the Dark Matter, there were no bikes in that price range anywhere near Barrie thanks to the extreme pandemic-infused shortage, and as luck would have it, I happened onto Impala Bikes at the right time to make the purchase. With hopes that the warranty would be honoured, the trip to Whitby was a necessity. What started out as something simple, morphed into something far more complicated ... in true cycling fashion ... resulting in severe withdrawal on my part as the repairs took 5 days thanks to where it fell in the weekly calendar, prompting my wife's comment, "That's the longest time you haven't ridden since you started this whole crazy bike thing!" 

The reunion was a sweet as pure Canadian Maple Syrup!

The agony of injustice slapped me straight in the face when the news reported that a 20-something young man willingly and purposefully destroyed an entire family, simply for holding a particular faith. I sat there, slack jawed, staring at the newscast about the murder ... let's call it what it was ... of 3 generations of Pakistani landed immigrants who have been positive, active members of the London area for 14 years. Their Judge, Jury and Executioner? A still wet-behind-the-ears caucasian male who evidently harboured enough hatred in his twisted soul that he felt completely justified to run the family over with his vehicle. The only survivor of the encounter was a 9 year old son who will now have a life of torment and fear as he attempts to recover from losing his entire family. I can't point fingers at a cause, but I sincerely hope that it is discovered that it comes out in the investigation that the accused was not in a sane frame of mind, but as a citizen of this country, and am also hopeful that he is brought to justice. 

I am enraged! I am distraught! I am aghast! How did it get to that point?

Many people have taken to Social Media to voice their displeasure or support for the way that Doug Ford's PCs have handled the Covid-19 pandemic and the resulting vaccinations. The roll out of the 3 main players in the immunization effort was, IMHO, a huge Cluster F&*k of proportions not seen in this country for many a year. This came to a crux when Joyce discovered while having her daily conversation with her 91 year old mother, that there are rules that Doug imposes, there are rules that Minister of Health imposes, there are rules that the Simcoe Health Unit imposes, and there are rules that pharmacies impose that are not at all guaranteed to be similar. My MIL had her first shot and had booked her second shot, but thanks to yet another change in the way things are happening, she got her second shot appointment moved up a few weeks. This aforementioned conversation was on the day before she was scheduled to go. It turns out that my MIL's neighbour couldn't get through on the provincial service to move her second shot, so in exasperation, she reached out to her local pharmacy for help. The response? "If you can get 4 friends together and come right now, I'll crack a new bottle, but I can't do that unless I know I can use it all right away." came the reply. 

Ummmm, excuse me? Since when was that an option? 

Listen, I'm ecstatic that my MIL (and her friends) has been fully vaccinated, but if there are going to be several different sets of rules, all dependent on who you speak to, then we're definitely in deep do-do going forward. I have a science background that, I feel, gives me a solid understanding to viruses, their mutations, infections, and vaccinations meaning that I'm firmly of the opinion that we as a world need to do whatever possible to get ahead of this Coronavirus, and that requires a coordinated, focussed and concerted effort on everyone's part. Having multiple sets of rules will not get that job done. Bearing all of this in mind, I can certainly understand with those that have been vocal opponents of this pandemic and all it's disruptions.

I don't agree with their opposition, but I understand it.

Joyce and I got our first shots of AstraZeneca back in early April, and got appointments for our second dose, waiting the ten mandated 16 weeks. With the government's announcement that AZ receivers can now apply to move up their second shots if it's been 8 weeks, we'll be contacting the pharmacy we used to see if they have flexibility. We discussed it at length, did some reading, and we've decided that if we can get AZ then awesome, but we would also be okay with one of the mRNA versions if it were an option. Who knows, maybe they'll crack a bottle if we can rally the troops?

Thoughts, people.
Thoughts fill my tiny grey noodle.

The 5 W's in Life!

The Internet can be a wonderful place! 

Armed with a thought, a desire, and some time, you can usually find all manner of little gems or nuggets aimed at elevated thinking or introspective contemplation.

On one such trip into the cyber-verse, I stumbled upon the graphic at the left, and it struck a chord deep enough that I chose to save it for future reference ... that time being now. Anyone who has spent even the most minimum of time in a classroom has been faced with using the 5 W's of WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE and WHY, standards in any investigative attempt at enlightenment. The difference in this particular case, is the enlightenment is of a more personal nature, aimed at one's efforts at self-improvement. IMHO , there are more images, videos, blogs or pages aimed at self-improvement than any other topic, but not all are worth the effort required to investigate.

I truly believe this is one of those begging for further thought.

"WHO you are makes you special. Do not change for anyone."
One of the things that I learned in high school and university biology classes was the incredible potential for diversity when it comes to a living thing's DNA, or genetic blueprint. Even individuals said to be the same, like identical twins, are fundamentally different on a genetic level, meaning that each human being is unique ... or in other words, each of us is special. If we fall prey to comparing ourselves with others in the search for contentment, we're doomed to failure and heartache since there will always be others who will possess greater fortune in some manner or another. For me, the secret is be content with the person I see in the mirror, and as the late Whitney Houston sang, "Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all."

"WHAT lies ahead will always be a mystery. Don't be afraid to explore."
In my view, one of the plagues of today's society is the insatiable need to plan for the future, perhaps in the hopes that success ... or more appropriately, what is VIEWED as success ... is achieved by removing all possibilities of the unknown. From where I stand, that attitude is fraught with error, leading to heightened levels of stress and anxiety when the inevitable consequences of Life present an alternative reality, where gnashing of knuckles and furrowing of brows accompany moans of "why me?" Life has always been a roll of the dice with Mother Nature being a fickle friend, bringing twists and turns our way despite the best of laid plans, and being unaccustomed to dealing with the bumps in the road is paramount to banging your head against a hard surface and hoping it stops hurting. Some of the best adventures I have experienced have come with embracing the unknown and stepping off the ledge of comfort. As the saying goes, "Life begins at the edge of your comfort zone!"

"WHEN life pushes you over, push back harder!"
This is akin to sayings like, "When life give you lemons, make lemonade" or "Get up one more time than you were knocked down" and for me, the key to the message is that Life will always be a struggle that begs to be accepted, embraced and nurtured because that is what it means to live. Look no further than the brutalness of Nature for proof, witnessed by the daily struggles to find water, food and safety in the hopes that life continues long enough to procreate and continue the genetic line. If the antelope of gnu resigned themselves to the threat of the lion instead of doing everything within its power to remain safe, it wouldn't be a very long stay on this planet. We are the product of millions of entities that came before us and survived, but try as we may to eliminate hardship, the struggle is hardwired into our souls and the need to work hard to survive paramount to our existence. No one has ever promised that Life would be easy.

"WHERE there are choices to make, make the ones you won't regret!"
I'll go on the record that this is my least favourite one. If I'm unafraid of the unknown and I push back harder when things get bumpy, it stands to reason that I'll make a decision that I'm not 100% comfortable with ... aka some regret, however small it may be. If I read into the statement and take it to mean always be true to yourself when making tough decisions, the opinion of others be damned, then I'll support that statement until the end of time. I have a personal bias against those in my life who I've seen make decisions that I had a hunch were the wrong choice at the wrong time by placing too much stock in what other people might think. Balderdash, I say! You can choose to compromise on the small stuff, but the big stuff has to be true to your inner most you. As the late Tragically Hip frontman Gord Downey famously reminded his audience, "Success is getting what you want; Happiness is wanting what you get."

"WHY things happen will never be straight forward. Take it in stride and move forward."
THIS! So very much THIS!
Nothing good comes from worry and strife born out of negatively gnashing our teeth and pining over things that we wished would never have happened. As the wisdom of the ages points out, if you can change it, do so; if you can't change it, let it be. Life is incredibly complicated and convoluted, full stop. Stuff happens, as the G-rated saying goes, and there's not always an explanation that satisfies. Get angry for a short time, regret for a short time, complain for a short time, even cry for a short time, but know that the negativity has a shelf life and the end should come quickly. You need to be move on with your head held high. You can't change the past, and it's my opinion that the past should ALWAYS remain in the past.

I'm going to get off my soapbox now. 

I feel better already, having shared my thoughts.

Leaf Fans have my respect!

I'll set the record straight right away. I'm not a hockey guy nor have I ever been.

Being somewhat high on the empathy scale, however, I felt the yearly pain and anguish of Toronto Maple Leaf fans last night as they choked their now very familiar way to an early exit from the hunt for Lord Stanley's cup. Leaf fans are an extra hardy lot because what else could explain their loyalty to a franchise as underachieving as they? Social Media, being what it is, was chock to the brim with stats about how long the faithful have endured this streak of disappointment.

I did play a little hockey as a youngster, and I have watched hockey at what could be considered a fan level in the past, but lately (I mean for a few years) I haven't watched consistently. I'll definitely tune in for the playoffs, but even then it's only a period here or there. I'm not sure why, and it certainly isn't very Canadian to admit it, but I guess the allure of other viewing options is to great.

I do have an NHL team that I support, though, and I do at least check the scores to see how they are performing ... quite well, thank you very much ... each year in the playoffs, but I don't won a single stitch of Fan apparel or mementos. If you'd entertain me for a little while, here's the story on how a non-hockey guy chooses a team to root for.

When I was a wee lad, my father (who was a hockey lover and played well into his 50's) and I enjoyed the Stanley Cup playoff run of the Montreal Canadien and Boston Bruins in the early 70's, which would have made me around 8 or 9 years old. Having won their way through the previous rounds, they faced each other in the finals. For what ever reason, I chose to root for Boston ... maybe it was as simple as their uniform colours or their "Bad Boy" attitude ... and being of limited intelligence but full of adolescent bravado, I bet my dad a week's allowance that the Bruins would beat the Habs. Well, if you have any recollection of the NHL in the early 70's, you'll know that it didn't go well for me, but instead of diminishing my fanaticism, I found myself vowing to increase my support and I've cheered for them ever since. 

That's how I roll really, when it comes to cheering for teams. I've been a Lakers fan since the early 70's, a Bears fan since the early 70's, and an All Blacks fan since the late 80's. While the Kiwi's have been pretty consistent, I've certainly felt the ebbs and flows of Fan support with the Lakers and Bears, giving me only the slightest inclining of what it is like being a Leaf supporter.

The point I'm struggling to make with all of this is my profound respect for the degree of allegiance that so many of my friends and acquaintances have demonstrated for sooooooooo many years despite the yearly woes of the Leafs. If this situation was anything other than hockey, I don't believe that there's anyway this level of fanaticism is duplicated. Some would say, "You know what the definition of insanity is? Doing the same thing over and over, but expecting different results!" but this is the purest, most definitive explanation for Leaf fans. I don't mean to label them as insane ... but if the shoe fits ... but their allegiance to such a frustrating franchise can certainly be called that. I would venture a guess that the one single thing that the Maple Leafs organization is world champions in is their ability to market such a woefully inept period of performance as Fan-worthy through an incredible array of paraphernalia their fans can use to display their support. The annual NHL season invades the Social Media pages and posts, colouring them in blue and white, as millions of TML fans proudly show off their personal collections of jerseys, flags, signs and trinkets while beating their chest attesting that THIS is the year. 

You all have my respect for your persistence, determination and loyalty.

Albeit, a little misguided.