I resolve to ...

In today's connected world, a flood of well wishes and celebratory images reaches our social media inboxes starting late in the evening on the 30th of December, when those ahead of our EST strike up the band and set off fireworks to signal the beginning of another new year mere hours before us. Amidst the songs, salutations, libations, and revelry, the curious custom of resolutions comes forefront of the conversation as millions reflect on the 12 months past, and publicly (but more likely privately) avow to make desired changes. For some, leaving 2022 behind will bring welcomed relief, "turning over a new leaf" as the old adage goes, but for others there will be the looming spectre of the unknown, not the least of which is the pressure of an impending recession. Either way, the resolutions brought to bear are a personal choice.

But where did this tradition come from?

According the History.com, the ancient Babylonians (from Bablyonia in ancient Mesopotamia, now know as Iraq) are reputed to be the first to make New Year’s resolutions approximately 4,000 years ago. As an agrarian (agriculturally based) society the year began in mid-March when the crops were planted. Celebrating Akitu, a massive 12-day religious festival, the Babylonians crowned a new king or reaffirmed their loyalty to the reigning king. Akitu also featured promises to their gods to pay their debts and return objects they had borrowed, considered by scholars as the forerunners of our present-day resolutions, in hopes that their gods would bestow favour on them for the coming year if they kept their word. Breaking their promise resulted in potentially falling out of the gods’ favour, misfortune the cost.

Okay ... so why the change to January 1st?

We can thank ancient Rome for the move away from an agrarian focus, when the reform-focused emperor Julius Caesar established January 1st as the beginning of the new year, circa 46 B.C., establishing what we now call the Julian calendar. Named for Janus, the two-faced god whose spirit inhabited doorways and arches, January had special significance for the Romans, believing the god looked simultaneously backwards into the previous year and ahead into the coming year. Romans offered sacrifices to the deity and made promises of good conduct for the coming year. 

Interesting factoid: Caesar's Julian calendar incorrectly calculated the solar year, making an error of 11 minutes, prompting Pope Gregory XIII to establish his own Gregorian calendar to ensure that the calendar stayed in sync with the lunar and solar equinoxes for centuries to come. According to Almanac.com, if you think about the seasons, the timing of early January works for most of Europe and North America since the active harvest has passed and the holiday celebrations have ended. At present, there are only 4 countries that do not officially follow the Gregorian calendar; Afghanistan and Iran (which use the Solar Hijri calendar), Ethiopia (the Ethiopian calendar), and Nepal (Vikram Samvat and Nepal Sambat)

Got it ... Most set resolutions on January 1st. How many keep them?

Thanks to wikipedia.com , a 2014 report claimed 35% of participants who failed their New Year's Resolutions admitted they had unrealistic goals, 33% did not keep track of their progress, and 23% forgot about them. About 1 in 10 respondents claimed they made too many resolutions. A 2007 study by Richard Wiseman from the University of Bristol involving 3,000 people showed that 88% of New Year resolutions fail, despite 52% being confident of success at the beginning. Wiseman reported that men achieved their goal 22% more often when they engaged in goal setting, their resolutions made in terms of small, measurable goals like "lose a pound a week" rather than "lose weight". 

Hmm ... not at all sure why he needed to discern between the sexes?

Furthermore, insideoutmastery.com reports that 38.5% of adults set New Year’s resolutions every year, with 59% of them being young adults (18-34) making it the largest demographic that sets these goals.

Of the top 3 resolutions, all health-related, the most popular at 48% was to exercise more, with eating properly and losing weight rounding out the podium. Unfortunately, 23% quit in the first week, and only 36% make it past the first month, with a lowly 9% successfully keep their New Year’s resolutions.

All of which begs the question, will you be making any New Year's resolutions loop around the sun? 

Mine will be easy peasy since they continue what I've already made into habit:

(a) Stay in shape ... Translation: Ride my bike a lot!

(b) Live a loving, active life ... Translation: Enjoy loads of beach walks with my bestie!

(c) Always look on the bright side of life ... Translation: Keep up the retirement thing!

From Joyce and I, a very Happy New Year to all!

From mine to yours!

I'd like to extend my sincerest well wishes to all of our family and friends, offering prayers that 2023 proves to be a significant improvement over 2022. Social Media being what it is, we are gifted glimpses into the lives of those who hold value to us, but the content of those sneak peeks is 100% controlled by the poster. Like everyone, there's more to our lives than the stuff deemed worthy of sharing, and whatever you're dealing with in your life, it is our wish that you know how much we appreciate you in our lives, and that we are honoured that you have extended the olive branch.

Joyce and I talk all the time of the 100's of friends over our lives that bring happiness and fulfillment through continued connection, but those that we would label as significant, the kind that are first on the help-needed list when life deals you a shot to the solar plexus, wouldn't fill up a post-it note. Please don't read into that! And, no, we won't be sharing any secrets. Those on speed dial very probably already know. 

We LOVE the life we've created, and we have no regrets with the end product of our life's efforts. Regardless of their makeup, ALL of our friendships have made a difference, and we appreciate each and every last one!

Family is pretty darned important to Joyce and I, even more so on "high" holidays like Christmas. When it comes to our immediate family, choosing to "pitch our tent" in 3 different communities means we don't often share time as an entire unit other than those special times in a year. We offer prayers of gratitude to the Lord when they happen. While I wouldn't label us as religious, I would say that God plays a role in our lives, influencing the way we live a fulsome life aligning well with the universal truths outlined in the sacred texts of the all world's religions. There are some families that establish connections of great depth and intensity, and some far less so, with Joyce and I feeling we fall into the bulging midline of that continuum. 

Hey, we like the way we do things ... that's why we do them ... so there'll be zero regrets on our part.

As we've aged, my extended family has begun the inevitable downsizing exercises, starting with my mom's transition from our childhood home to a more manageable condo. Joyce and I followed suit not far after, as regular readers already know, but two of my brothers still hold tightly onto the "knot at the end of the rope" with detached houses. Of my three brothers, my brother Dave's family home is the most accommodating in size, and as such, he opened his front door to those of us that could make it for some Christmas LUV'n, a tradition sorely missing after mom sold and during the pandemic years. 

For reasons that are obvious, there was an empty spot on the couch. 

My brother Rob has made remarkable improvements over the past 4 weeks since returning home from Sunnybrook, but he and Jen sent their regrets when the invitation was issued. Joyce and I stop by Rob's place once a week to stay in touch because it hits home when your family is forced to confront "The Big C", and we're ecstatic that his troubles look like they're in the rear view mirror.

It felt wonderfully strange to share air sans mask with those I hold dear to my heart, and there was so much catching up to do. Granted, not everyone in our extended family was able to come, some bogged down at work or not able to make the long trip back to Barrie, but for all that could, smiles, sparkles, laughs, and genuine affection completely filled the space. While we each contributed to the spread, the bulk of the treats were thanks to the generosity of Dave's house with his Spanish exchange student adding the piece de resistance, sharing her ethnic culinary abilities with Ensaladilla Rusa two ways and smoked salmon canapés. YUM! Thanks so much Dave and Cheryl!

Reacquainting ourselves with each other, it occurred to both Joyce and I how blessed we are with such a glorious assortment of personalities and talents, astutely proud of the great young people our children, nieces, and nephews have become now that everyone is adulting full time!

The wondrous pre-Christmas week continued when we pointed the RAV northeastward for the trip up to Haliburton to celebrate early with my Mother-in-law Pearl and Joyce's brother's family (Gary, his wife Ruth, and their son Jamie). Although previous Foster family get-togethers had included Gary+Ruth's daughter Krista, husband Jeff, and children Levi and Lexi, those chairs were vacant this time around thanks to Jeff's transfer to Germany for an extended service in the Canadian Armed Forces. Gary's family lives pretty much on the opposite side of Ontario from us (Cobden/Pembroke area), so making the long trip from the far east amounts to a special event. Pearl, bless her, denied her 90+ years, whipping up a delicious spread that delighted of our grumbling tummies, and we capped off the visit by sharing our gifts to each other. Jamie stole the show thanks to his wonderfully quirky sense of humour, spurring out-loud Guffaws on a number of occasions. Due to the large amount of KM's between us, we don't share time with Gary, Ruth and family as often as we should, so when we are able, the time races, hours seeming like mere moments. Our travel home was filled with banter about the experience, wide smiles on our faces.

For our own children, Joyce and I have always implored them to balance time with both sides of their families on a alternating basis so we might continue to embrace the Christmas morning traditions we established over the years like fresh cinnamon rolls, Christmas morning Wife-Saver, and dad's rhyming hide-a-present game. Keaton, partner Jessica, and fur-baby Zuke arrived on Christmas Eve day, despite the latest version of Snowmageddon. After a quick catch-up, we jumped into the RAV to go see my mom for a combo Christmas visit / introduction since she's never met Jessica, much to the dismay of Zuke who got left behind. We had a lovely chat, took the obligatory pic, and got a chance to visit with my brother Dave's family for a bit since they had come to spend the evening with mom. White-knuckling it back to the beach through a ridiculous set of streamers was the only downer of the day, and we give thanks to the white pickup that shepherded us home in white-out conditions!

Christmas Eve was truly an event! 

Keaton and Jess treated us to a Raclette. Yeah, we'd never heard of it before then either, but  IT ... WAS ... DELICIOUS! If you're like us with no clue, think griddle on top with cheese melting stations below, creating a host of ooey-gooey tastebud tantalizers that featured steak, sausages, prosciutto-wrapped asparagus, and veggies smothered in melted Emmental, Gruyere, or Gouda. An over-eaters Nirvana! The evening's crescendo was sharing the Jim Carrey version of "The Grinch"!

Maddison, hubby Chris, and fur-baby Remington made the trip to the Beach on Christmas afternoon after spending Christmas Eve and morning in the "Shwaa" with his side of the family. The reacquaintance,  gift opening, and laughter aside, we shared an amazing family day feasting on the traditional fare of turkey with all the fixin's. At one point, I pushed my chair back, and basked in the gloriousness of having my family together in our intimate little condo ... all was right, from my perspective. Like the Grinch who finally learns the true meaning of Christmas, my heart swells with pride and gratitude when blessed with times like these.

Suffering the corny old adage, "God bless us, everyone!"

A game of thrones!

Home ownership is NOT for wimps! And when it comes to plumbing, I'm all thumbs, even more so when it comes to the "Royal Throne"!

Some may recall from stories passed that we owned the same domicile for 31 years prior to selling it in June 2020. During that time, this all-thumbs, klutzy, experience-lacking "Bungalo Bob" stumbled through a host of DIY jobs whose culminations didn't match the pre-construction image of my mind. What I ultimately learned is that I missed the proverbial boat when it came to spruce-up skills. The jobs I fumbled my way through were drywalling, laminate flooring, framing+drywalling the basement, shelving, and painting, but things like plumbing or electrical were summarily off limits, partially because mistakes would either be costly or deadly, not necessarily in order of importance.

When we moved to our condo, that added a layer of liability since mistakes would not only affect what we owned, but had the potential to affect others. For smaller jobs, I begged favours from competent friends, the usual payment came in glass and gurgled, but when we realized a professional was paramount, my Scottish roots cringed at paying the anticipated cost. My anxiety was confirmed when we contracted a young lad that was "local" ... he's based in Orr Lake but comes to "The Beach" regularly ... for advice about our aged toilets since they had developed some quirks that had become "a burr under the saddle." He was the former student of my friend John Minty, and his recommendation was to switch both toilets out before major issues developed.

The cost of that first visit could be broken down into dollars per word! HaHaHa!

After our guy left, we dutifully discussed whether his advice was feasible, eventually agreed it should be done, and our decision prompted a quest for thrones from a Big Box store because, as it turns out, plumbers no longer supply the thrones. We chose Home Depot for our quest, surveyed the bewildering arrangement of choices ranging from less than $175 up to over $500, eventually narrowing it down to 2 choices. We had been encouraged to look for an American Standard brand so we settled on one of two that were separated by about $150 in price. Thinking it prudent, we sought some input from a store employee before making the final decision, and we were swayed to consider a Home Depot brand that was of similar price to the lower range of our original two choices. 

We really should have simply listened to our guy.

Lured by the, "This is a better toilet for the same money" sales pitch, we chose the HD brand ... cue the dramatic, foreshadowing music! Since we had zero experience with replacing toilets, I was not put off by the weight of the box, assuming (in error, as it would turn out) they were all that heavy. While transporting them back to the Beach was a chore, getting them up to the condo was a whole different matter. I've heard it said that any job is easier with the right tools, and we DEFINITELY would have appreciated a dolly or some such, but my back held out, the task was accomplished, and the call put out for our plumber's return. Like Murphy's Law, the day that he was able to help, I was scheduled to supply that morning, so things had already started when I arrived home just after lunch, and I immediately felt the pang of sympathy thanks to the audible "Uuuugh's" and "Wheeeew's" emanating from the bathroom. Apparently, the model we bought was the Granpappy most-difficult install of all. 

Oooops, my bad! Nice to know I still got it ... NOT!

In the end, the job was completed, the end product looked awesome, and their function eliminated the annoyances of the old thrones. All that was left was the exchange of Shekels. We thought we got a good deal on the two, paying just shy of $250 each, and hoped that the install costs would come in less than the purchase cost, and I'm pleased (???) to inform that it did ... barely. That is not a complaint about our guy! He had to work awfully darned hard to make these two behemoths fit, and the 3.5 hours it took was a direct correlation to the model we chose, so for just a wee bit shy of $1K you too could enjoy the "GO" on thrones of comparable quality. 

As the saying goes, "All it takes is money!"

How sad is it that I just spent an entire blog post on toilets?

Refs 'R Us!

I'm pretty sure I mentioned it somewhere on here, but in case I didn't, I'd like to share that I have turned to "the Dark Side" of the whistle, joining the Barrie & District Association of Basketball Officials (BDABO, for short) when we moved back to Simcoe County this past summer. After rekindling my referee roots in Guelph last winter, I yearned to continue my journey when we moved to Wasaga Beach, and was flattered that BDABO accepted me with open arms. I was told by a number of friends, during a variety of conversations about the subject matter, that there was a void that required filling with some of the more senior members of BDABO scaling back or "retiring", but I truly had no idea that I could become so busy.

If I'm honest, this kind of busy is a good thing!

A really long time ago, I was a much, much younger version of myself, and I was an active member of BDABR, the acronym used back then. While I really enjoyed being on both sides of the whistle, I had not yet been bitten by the rugby bug and it's vortex-like effect on the minutes of the day. Eventually, between husbanding, parenting, teaching, basketball-ing, rugby-ing, GBSSA/OFSAA-ing, and refereeing, something had to give. It was right around then that I was experiencing some internal strife coaching as a referee because I would fall prey to focussing on what the officials were doing during the game, and not my players, even if it was only for brief periods of time. 

I can vividly recall rationalizing the decision, and felt it was a super simple choice ...

Refereeing had to go.

Fast forward to present day, I'm still working off the rust that gathered after 20+ years absence, striving to become a competent official, and continuing to embrace my "Go Hard or Go Home" mentality. As SCAA (Simcoe County Athletic Association) and CASC (Catholic Association of School Councils) transition from the girls' season to the guys', scanning my calendar from the past 3.5 months, forces me to confront the stark reality that I may have put the proverbial "cart before the horse". 

I've officiated just over 100 games refereed since the beginning of September!

If you consider that I drove myself to most of my assignments, that's 90+ times I have left poor Joyce stranded without a vehicle since we decided that retirement downsizing meant transitioning to one vehicle. As you might have guessed, she's let me know how many times in her loving and caring way, but while I throw myself on the mercy of her court, my sheepishly grinning reminder that it's helping to fund our up-coming winter in the sunny south was met with mixed emotions.

I make light of the situation, but please know that I readily admit to being a very lucky husband.

Being an active, card-carrying member of the silver-haired club, I have been asked to help with not only the high school scene, but the elementary schools and youth club games as well, meaning on any given week, at almost any time of the day, I could be in a wide variety of community gyms, adorned in zebra stripes, whistle in mouth, and a big smile beneath my referee's mask. Yep, you read that correctly. I'm of the opinion that we still need to pay heed to the pandemic, and with family that is battling health concerns PLUS mothers that are north of 80+, I wear a specialized mask that allows me to officiate at the same time. I truly enjoy being involved in youth sports again.

What people not invested in the education system may have overlooked is that this pandemic has disrupted our young people's lives fully and completely, in ways that are not always apparent. One of those centers around opportunities in athletics where it has created a noticeable dearth of skills and knowledge in the elementary basketball games I've officiated recently. Granted, the games I've done were at the beginning of playoffs level, meaning that all schools have access, and I would suspect that the competency would significantly increase when you get to the Simcoe County championships, but it doesn't change the fact that the level of play, overall, has dropped.

When talking about high school, the drop off of skill is less noticeable with the changes to the club system in this area. Back in the "Stone Ages", high school athletes would only compete in club games outside of the high school season, the prime goal of clubs like the Barrie Royals was to support high school programs. It would seem to me that things have swung 180 degrees, with high schools are the support system now, and athletes focusing on their chosen sport to train and compete all year long. While I can applaud the dedication and focus, I feel a pang of anxiety because I feel strongly that a base comprised of a wide variety of activities offering a more complete array of functional movements, leads to an overall healthier life, and statistically less injuries. I am completely biased, however, because my own experience was skewed significantly considering that I competed in 4-6 sports a year in high school, thanks mostly to the flexibility of my coaches who willingly accepted me missing a practice or two when I was balancing the whole thing. The chart at the right points to an alarming reality in today's world, proof that multi-sport athletes' bodies resist over-training injuries better if they compete in a variety of activities rather than a single sport. It's not my place to comment on other family's choices, but it's still a concern for me based on years of experience.

Getting back on the mental track, I am loving that I can remain involved with youth sports, albeit on the opposite side of the whistle. I've been blessed to experience success on the elite stage in a number of activities I coached, but my "Happy Place" will always be working with those grassroots athletes in high school gyms around the county. I receive loads of comments from parents about how much they appreciate me taking the time to explain blasts of the whistle to their children. The point I'm making is that despite the level, there's still A LOT of learning that takes place on the basketball court during a game, and I'm directly involved in that. UNLIKE voluntarily donating all those coaching hours for 35+ years, now I get a little kick-back for my role in the learning, and NO, coaching was not part of the job description for teaching so I wasn't getting paid to coach, but it's the premise of youth sports that gets me out the door in my retirement.

Hey, you can't have an inter-school competition if you don't have referees ... most of the time.

Truth be told, I'm really having a lot of fun being out there on the court. In a recent weekend passed, I was granted some matches at the 2022 McDonald's Invitational at Collingwood CI, gifting me the opportunity to re-aquaint with coaching buddies from all those years on the road, as well as getting a front row seat for ex-players who are now giving back to the sport. Shout out to Pete Kaija (Sarnia), Kyle Beers (Sudbury), Kate Walker (Bradford), Ross Clarke (Huntsville), Drew Taylor (Barrie), and Connor Laronde (Barrie). A tip 'o the hat to organizer and CCI coach Daryl Sproule for the hours it takes to set up and run the tournament.

Fun Fact ... at least for me! When I returned to Simcoe, BDABO classed me as a C-level official since I had only been actively refereeing for less than 12 months, if you consider I started back in November of 2021 when I joined the Guelph Board. While I respected their policy, I humbly requested the first possible opportunity to be evaluated, hoping to move up to a B-level. Well, that evaluation happened a few days ago during the Barrie Showdown tournament, and I'm proud to report that the feedback was both flattering and confirming, the executive granting me the honour of jumping up to the A-level in recognition and appreciation of the competency I brought to the task. 

My gratitude to them, and to my long time friend Dave Gross who evaluated me, is huge.

TWEET! 

That's a violation by the old fart for excessive celebration!

Christmas Curiosities 2.0

After writing the last post about Christmas traditions, It occurred to me that there were a few others that begged for investigation. I already have some feedback from friends after the first post, detailing the memorable traditions near and dear to their families, so this list is skewed towards what we do, but I encourage those of you that I've pique an interest in understanding the historical significance of the observances dear to your family to do a little searching of your own. There's boat loads of information out there and quick Internet search offers hundreds of possible sources.

The tradition of decorating Christmas trees can be faithfully traced to our collective Germany roots. The decoration of evergreen trees had long been a part of the winter solstice tradition, with the first trees Christmas-theme decorated and named after the Christian holiday reputed to have appeared in Strasbourg (part of Alsace) in the beginning of the 17th century, according to History.com. By the mid 17th century, Christmas trees began spreading out to other parts of Germany, even more so when Johann Wolfgang von Goethe visited Strasbourg and promptly included a Christmas tree is his 1771 novel, "The Suffering of Young Werther." The site goes on to say that for 1000's of years of recorded history, cultures from Egypt to Northern Europe have celebrated the winter solstice by decorating homes with green palm fronds and evergreen boughs to breathe life into the shortest, darkest day of the year. The first Christmas trees brought indoors are credited to 16th-century German Christians, with Martin Luther credited for placing the first burning candles in a Christmas tree to mimic the sparkling stars. It doesn't take a great Leap of Faith to see that the North American preference for a freshly cut evergreen had deep historical roots, but there has been much debate on which variety best serves the purpose. 

My dad was always a Balsam guy ... which one was your family's? 

Although it might seem like this tradition has long been a North American staple, Puritanical American preachers railed against “pagan” trees before the tradition caught on in NA homes in the late 1800's. My father is likely reeling, but I'm pretty sure our entire family has embraced artificial trees over fresh cut, but  to me it makes sense in these times, even though it is a source of income for some. Tightening the embrace just a wee might closer, I recently saw "Evergreen Eggs" at Cabellas so your home can be infused with that fresh-cut evergreen scent. Traditionalists are dying right now.

There was a time, earlier in my childhood, when our Christmas tree decorations included a dozen or so Candy Canes hanging from the branches. For as long as I can recall, I've loved the minty sweetness of a traditional Candy Cane, and I have to confess, it seems blasphemous that they come in a wide variety of soda pop flavours now. To my childhood brain, the long-lasting sugary goodness was Nirvana, no doubt sending my Pancreas into spasm during it's consumption. According to the National Confectioners Association (alwaysatreat.com), candy canes are the #1 selling non-chocolate candy during the holiday season, with 90% sold between Thanksgiving and Christmas. My wife, God bless her, is not nearly the fan that I am, but thanks to what I can only surmise is genetics, my daughter's eyes light up at the mention, just like her pappy. The two of us bide our days each year until the annual release of the PC version of Candy Cane ice cream. According to the NCA, the biggest single week for candy canes is traditionally the second week of December, stemming from the tree decorating tradition for many families. Susan Benjamin, founder of True Treats Historic Candy (truetreatscandy.com), and author of "Sweet as Sin: The Unwrapped Story of How Candy Became America’s Pleasure", poses that the candy cane most likely took it's shepherd's crook shape in 17th century Europe when pulled sugars, the parent to today’s striped treats, were all the rage, the change in shape intended to connect to the religious overtones of the holiday.

Thanks to Wikipedia, the tradition of leaving stockings hung somewhere conspicuous in hopes that a certain jolly elf would fill them with treats is easily explained. For the Porter clan, thanks to our English roots, the stockings were hung by the mantle, and we were only permitted access to them before Christmas morning breakfast, almost like battle preparations for much anticipated wrapped presents under the tree. Once dumped, they faithfully offered up some small toys, some of our favourite sugary treats, and maybe a puzzle or two, but as the years progressed, and I had my own children, the size of said stockings grew from reasonable dimensions to flour-sack sizes to accommodate indulgences. It's a sad truth that we allowed the commercialism of the holiday to creep into our home, but I confess that the sheer exuberance on my children's faces made it justifiable. My on-line deep dive revealed, however, that it was not always stockings that were left out for filling. In Scandinavia hopeful children leave shoes by the fireplace, a tradition traced to legends surrounding Saint Nicholas. One such story tells of 3 poor sisters who could not marry because they had no money for a dowry, so to save them from being sold into prostitution (Wait .. WHAT?) by their father, St. Nick left each of the three sisters gifts of gold coins. Surely stuff of an active mind, the tale says that one coin went down the chimney and landed in a pair of shoes that had been left on the hearth, while another went into a window and into a pair of stockings left hanging by the fire to dry. 

The astute may share my curiousity ... if St Nick was a true religious figure, what was he doing on the roof so that dropped coins might access the chimney or window? Such is the lure of legends, I guess.

We don't regularly have a poinsettia plant these days, partially because we got out of the habit when were in our cat years ... they're poisonous to kitties who can't seem to resist nibbling ... but I've always thought that they were a beautiful addition to the ambiance. According to History.com, the Poinsettia name comes from Joel R. Poinsett, an American minister to Mexico, who fell in love with the Christmasy coloured red-and-green plant and brought it back home from Mexico in 1828.  By 1870, stores began to sell them at Christmas, and in no time, they were a universal symbol of the holiday.

Did your family ever hang Mistletoe? We didn't embrace this particular oddity, but in those years it found it's way to our doorways, I made sure to steal a peck or 2. The custom has its clearest connection with Norse mythology, in which Frigg, the goddess of love, promised to kiss any creature that passed beneath the evergreen sprig after it was used to revive her son, Baldur, from the dead (after initially killing him). 

Another head-scratcher when you try to dissect the info from the story.

The Celtic Druids also saw mistletoe, which blossoms in the winter, as a sacred symbol of vivacity and prescribed it for fertility issues. According to History.com, the modern tradition of meeting under the mistletoe started in England, so it makes sense that it became a staple in NA.

Whichever traditions have squirmed their way into your family's annual celebrations, it's my sincere hope that it makes this time of year a time of gratitude and love. From my family to yours, with whichever holiday you celebrate during December, I wish you health, prosperity, happiness, and peace. 

Christmas curiosities

If your family is anything like mine, you've a host of traditions that have been in play for years, making them seem like everyone does them. The fact is that our Christmas traditions are more curiosity than doctrine, rising out of familial wants and desires rather than religious or cultural practices. 

Don't believe me? A little sustained use of the Interwebs (as my daughter is prone to call it) uncovers a host of Christmas curiosities.

Chances are if you grew up in Canada or the US, your immediate mental image of Santa is a portly, rosy cheeked, cookie munching, baritone belly-laughing, benevolent elf-like grandpa and not of an austere, angular, sallow cheeked elderly gentleman dressed in a monk's cossack. What naysayers need to understand is that North America is the great melting pot of cultural dogma, born out of the mish-mash of traditional observances thanks to a wide assortment of immigrational influences attributable to large populations of new citizens from all over the globe bringing their vision of holiday celebrations with them. Plainly put, we are very much a mixture of snippets taken from this place and that, creating a whole that is often greater than the parts, and very much influenced by the mass media juggernaut.

According to the site History.com, the real life inspiration behind Santa was a Christian monk who lived in what is now Turkey, around the 3rd century AD. 

"We know very few historical details about St. Nicholas’s life. Even the year of his death is uncertain, although both the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches have celebrated December 6—the date of his passing—for more than 1,000 years. Within a century of his death, the much-admired Nicholas had become the center of a series of folk legends. He was credited with stopping a violent storm to save doomed sailors, donating money to a father forced to sell his daughters into prostitution, and even restoring to life a trio of boys who had been dismembered by an unscrupulous butcher. Today, Nicholas is considered the patron saint of sailors, children, wolves and pawnbrokers, among others."

"Over the course of many years, Nicholas’s popularity spread and he became known as the protector of children and sailors. His feast day is celebrated on the anniversary of his death, December 6. This was traditionally considered a lucky day to make large purchases or to get married. By the Renaissance, St. Nicholas was the most popular saint in Europe. Even after the Protestant Reformation, when the veneration of saints began to be discouraged, St. Nicholas maintained a positive reputation, especially in Holland."

Speaking of Holland, the name Santa Claus can be traced back to Dutch roots where St Nicholas was nicknamed "Sinter Klaas", Our present-day mental image is thanks to 1809 "A History of New York" author, Washington Irving, who referred to St Nicholas as the patron saint of New York and described him as a “rascal” with a blue three-cornered hat, red waistcoat, yellow stockings, and a “huge pair of Flemish trunk hose.” Eventually, the recognizable image of the Americanized Sinter Klaas morphed thanks to Clement Clark Moore's "T'was the Night Before Christmas" description, enhanced by political cartoonist Thomas Nast in his rendition published in Harper's Weekly depicting what we now accept as the "true" Santa as a rotund, cheerful man with a full, white beard, holding a sack laden with toys for lucky children.

North America’s Santa Claus was not the only St. Nicholas-inspired gift-giver to make an appearance at Christmastime, and the previously mentioned melting pot of immigrant traditions from around the globe resulted in morsels handpicked for appeal by North American culture.

There are similar figures and Christmas traditions around the world. In Switzerland and Germany, Christkind was believed to deliver presents to well-behaved children. Meaning “Christ child,” Christkind is an angel-like figure often accompanied by St. Nicholas on his holiday missions and the Americanization of it led to Santa's other name, Kris Kringle. In Scandinavia, a jolly elf named Jultomten was thought to deliver gifts in a sleigh drawn by goats. English legend explains that Father Christmas visits each home on Christmas Eve to fill children’s stockings with holiday treats. Père Noël is responsible for filling the shoes of French children. In Italy, there is a story of a woman called La Befana, a kindly witch who rides a broomstick down the chimneys of Italian homes to deliver toys into the stockings of lucky children.

For centuries, Christmas has been celebrated on December 25th, the justification entrenched in Christian doctrine that the date commemorates the birth of Jesus. While there has been much debate on the actual date of Christ's birth, there is no biblical proof of its validity. 

According to Encyclopædia Britannica (CLICK), 

Christmas, the holiday commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ, is celebrated by a majority of Christians on December 25 in the Gregorian calendar. But early Christians did not celebrate his birth, and no one knows on which date Jesus was actually born (some scholars believe that the actual date was in the early spring, placing it closer to Easter, the holiday commemorating his Resurrection). The origins of the holiday and its December date lie in the ancient Greco-Roman world, as commemorations probably began sometime in the 2nd century. There are at least three possible origins for the December date. The Roman Christian historian Sextus Julius Africanus dated Jesus’ conception to March 25 (the same date upon which he held that the world was created), which, after nine months in his mother’s womb, would result in a December 25 birth. In the 3rd century, the Roman Empire, which at the time had not adopted Christianity, celebrated the rebirth of the Unconquered Sun (Sol Invictus) on December 25th. This holiday not only marked the return of longer days after the winter solstice but also followed the popular Roman festival called the Saturnalia (during which people feasted and exchanged gifts). It was also the birthday of the Indo-European deity Mithra, a god of light and loyalty whose cult was at the time growing popular among Roman soldiers.

Well, there you have it.

One of the more popular characters of our North American Christmases is Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, but many have no idea that he was "born" out of the tragedy of cancer. According to the CBC.ca site (CLICK), Rudolph was the product of Robert L May's childhood experiences combined with his desire to comfort his 5 year old daughter's sadness from losing her mother, May's wife, to cancer. It turns out that May was a struggling writer who worked as a copywriter for the Ads department of Montgomery Ward, a huge chain of stores second only to Sears. Montgomery Ward had a policy of giving away free children's books during the holiday season, and May had a dream of being published. His daughter Barbara's favourite animals were the deer at Lincoln Park Zoo, and spurred by the tragedy of his wife's passing, he dreamed up the story of a little misfit reindeer with talents that weren't immediately visible, perhaps echoing his own life. His daughter loved the slowly evolving story so much, begging for retelling night after night, that May eventually persevered through initial publishing disappointments to realize his dream in 1939. The tale was an instant hit with those who received a copy. In a stroke of Christmas magic, the head of Montgomery Ward, Sewell Avery, recognized the injustice that stemmed from May only receiving his salary for his writing genius, and in 1947 returned all rights of the piece to the author, a HUGE financial windfall. 

As awesome a story this is, the REAL Christmas miracle, and the reason billions of children around the world know about Rudolph, was thanks to the marriage of May's sister, Margaret, to Johnny Marks, a struggling songwriter from Mt Vernon, NY. After learning of the cute tale his brother-in-law had created, Marks was inspired to write the famous song, and in a stroke of sheer luck, convinced country superstar Gene Autry to record it. Actually, the song so enamoured Autry's wife, she convinced Autry of its value, and convinced him that his initial distaste for the song was unfounded. Autry's B side recording became the 2nd all-time recorded single behind only White Christmas.

"... but do you recall, the most famous reindeer of all?"

Regardless of what your family does to observe the holiday season, the universal truth of good will to your fellow man, embracing the love of those dear, and being present in the wonders around us are the foundations of all holiday celebrations across the planet, regardless of what its called.

I'm going to make sure I exercise those universal truths ... how about you?

SNOWSTORMS!

Welcome to a Canadian November in 2022 and it's TWO giant snowstorms!

Whoa! Wait a minute there, Stevie Boy, there's only one storm battering Ontario right now! 

I beg to differ, my dear friend. 

ONE storm is the granddaddy of them all, hammering western NY state first, then creeping its way northeastward into southern Ontario, blanketing all in its wake under record setting snowfall. Some of the areas surrounding Buffalo, NY, have reported almost 1.75 m (5+ feet) thus far with more expected before the weekend plays out. The squalls reached us here in Wasaga overnight, making for white out conditions when I arose at 6:30 am, and they don't appear to have any threat of lightening over the next little while.

The OTHER storm is the informational white out that Ford Nation is battering Ontario's citizen's consciousness through a sheer crap-storm of misinformation and outright lies that are soapboxed daily, mostly thanks to jabbering of the Minister for Education, the right honourable (??) Stephen Lecce. Yes, I'm still technically employed by that same education system and should choose keep my yap shut, but how can one sit idle when Ford et al use yours and my tax dollars to fuel such an outrageous campaign of destruction by actively creating strife through the vilification of education workers, blatantly lying about their complicency in the battle. The screen shot for one of Lecce's latest tweets would like voters to believe that in 33 years, Ontario's students have missed almost 12 years of school due to strikes. 

And he's the supreme leader of Ontario's math curriculum?

I can't tell the general public how to think, but I am not at all prepared to acknowledge that Lecce wishes kids back in class if he's trying to sway opinion using such a ludicrous claim. It staggers the imagination that he and his PR team thought that one would slide through!

Let's be clear about storm ONE. This baby is easily in the top 10, if not top 5, of winter storms to hit the western NY area, and with you and I caught square in its crosshairs, it may just make the top 5 for these parts. While the pundits claim that my part of the world ... Georgian Bay area ... will most likely not get slammed like Orchard Park, just south of Buffalo, but the generated chaos will be significant enough. According to CBC, "New York Gov. Kathy Hochul called in the National Guard, deploying about 150 members to help with snow removal and resident needs in the hardest-hit parts of Erie County. At a news conference on Saturday afternoon, Hochul said she would sign a request for a federal emergency declaration to seek reimbursements for expenses on storm response." 

Have it told you lately how much I dislike the snow?

Let's also be clear about storm TWO. Ford's cronies would have Ontario think that CUPE education workers are the bottom-of-the-barrel, lazy, entitled cretins that can't resist feeding off the public tete, and they're banking on public opinion being based on the mass media and not on the collective grey matter. If the events of last week were not enough to raise concern ... the whole NON-bargaining process kaput because you could ram legislature through using a foot-to-the-throat suppression of rights and freedoms ... then the consistent attempt to throw a white-out of confusion across our collective retinas via misinformational red-herring statistics should raise the alarm bells. Ford Nation has already approved $330+ million handout to parents prior to the political protest of November 11th to use as they see fit to offset the impacts of the pandemic, then they announce millions more for, "free childcare to eligible healthcare workers & childcare workers for the duration of any work stoppage." The combination of those two "bribes" alone would offset all requested increases CUPE has made. Kudos to CUPE and OPSEU for banding together and forcing the PCs to eat crow on their Draconian measures.

Look, let's call "a spade, a spade". I admit I am completely biased. When it comes to the education system, if you had invested over 30 years in an altruistic effort to prepare the next generations to look after us when we're no longer able, you'd likely have a soft spot for it too. 

Do I think that Ford's PCs are completely wrong? 

Not in the least. 

Do I think that they have stepped completely across the line of decorum? 

Absolutely so! 

Do I think the PCs and CUPE need to meet in the middle so disruption to schools is minimized. 

100% YES! 

Do I think that our EAs, office staff, custodians, etc deserve to be acknowledged for their commitment and vital contribution to Ontario's students? 

1000% YES YES YES!

I'm willing to help shoulder the added financial load, for sure, but there's tens of billions inequities and injustices in uncollected monies from business taxation, mismanaged accounting, and misguided grants that would make treating these classroom super heroes with the much deserved respect they are due an absolute reality. 

And, at the risk of gaslighting, CUPE is only step one of multiple negotiations that Ford/Lecce have to solve over the coming months.

Yep, TWO massive storms!

The good news is that one of them won't last much more that a day or two more.

OOOOPs!

I am writing this on November 17th, 2022. 

I awoke this morning to a massive feeling of OOOPs!

When I originally approached my bestie Joyce with the idea of selling our Barrie home of 30 years, I felt strongly that I really desired a change of surroundings, and to her credit, she agreed. I was raised in Barrie, left for the extended university years, and then taught in Barrie for 30 years. I loved the city and all the fantastic memories I had made there be it personal, familial, or professional, but the dazzling gleam of snowflakes in the air were fading, with it winter recreational activities were losing their attractiveness. All of this created a yearning to experience a different community. 

Those of you that have read a few of my posts are likely already familiar with the escapades of relocating to Wasaga Beach by way of a year long stop-over in Guelph, but in the event that you're a first time reader, we rented a condo in Guelph, fell in love with the vibe and energy of the city, entrenched ourselves in the wide assortment of outdoor recreational activities available, and were pleasantly pleased with significantly less winter weather ... aka snowfall.

We started the search for real estate we might purchase with the hopes of putting down roots in the Guelph area, but months of searching left us feeling hollow since what we desired, we refused to pay the asking price, and what we were willing to pay for didn't check enough of the boxes on our list. When we expanded our search to include locations in Simcoe County that were NOT Barrie, we were tickled to find a place in Wasaga that checked most of our boxes AND we were willing to pay the asking price. 

Now, back to the OOOPs ...

While we immediately fell for the serenity and beauty of Wasaga pre-winter, we were timidly optimistic about what the looming winter would look like. Would it feature frigid on-shore gales, December cousins of the heavenly zephyrs of the summer and fall, and would they carry the accursed snow streams inland, missing our new little digs? Or, would those winds simply deposit large volumes of 'Fluff Stuff" in our laps? Well, early indications would favour the latter, as we awoke this morning to an overnight accumulation of 20+ cm!

Shazbat!

One thing unique to condo life is the snow removal waltz. Like many at our complex, we are fortunate to own two parking spots, one that we choose to use because of its desirable location to our front door, and one that is less so. In hopes of getting our number one spot plowed, I hustled down to "dig" the RAV out and was greeted with almost knee-deep drifts and 20+ cm effectively camouflaging the RAV with its never-ending whiteness. It was a race against time as the plow clearing the unoccupied spaces was nearing completion, and I was filled with sadness as I watched him pull away at the same time I pulled into our second spot.

Drat!

With a defeated shrug, I left the RAV in our second spot, and hoped that the day's sunshine would eventually do the deed and clear away the blight. Imagine my relief when this afternoon I heard the unmistakable return of the plowing company as the clunks and bangs of a Skid-steer quickly solved our accumulation problem. 

Now we play the "Wait 'n See" game of what the rest of the 2022/23 winter season will bring. Perhaps this was an aberration and we won't get buried? Perhaps all will be right and the snow squalls from H-E-Double hockey sticks won't fill us with regret. 

I will tell you that a pleasant walk around the neighbourhood this midday bolstered our spirits with Hi's and Hello's of neighbours busily dealing with the overnight conditions. To be honest, we really do like this new-to-us part of the world.

Especially when it doesn't include snow!

Wish us luck!

Lest We Forget

Lest we forget their sacrifice!

I hope that the folks at Elmvale DHS won't get a big head, but I'd like to take a a few minutes to tell you about yet another outstanding experience I enjoyed thanks to taking a supply job there! To add to your understanding, you should know that this past week has been a busy one refereeing basketball because it's playoffs and club games are also going full steam ahead, so I was choosing to not take supply jobs. 

I'm retired dontcha know and the weather begs for me to get out there on my bike. 

Having said that, I consented to take this morning shift at EDHS because the OA there, an absolute gem of a human, texted me looking for some assistance. PSSSST, don't tell her that I have a hard time turning her down! HaHa!

I arrived at the school and found out the morning's duties would include a 1st period prep and a 2nd period escort / supervision. I honestly tried to hire myself out for that 1st period prep, especially since I was only booked for the morning, but the office staff insisted all was good. With the entire student population going to the Elmvale Remembrance Day ceremony, and if you've not worked in a secondary school, me saying that the entire school was going somewhere won't have the same impact than those who have had that experience. According to a previous conversation with the principal, Mark Ruzylo, the school's roster was 500 souls strong, but that included grades 7 through 12. Even if you factor in a 30% absenteeism ... quite normal these days ... that's still a boatload of young people to move from one place to another in an orderly fashion.

I chose to have a small chat with that 2nd period class prior to our walking journey about the nature of a Remembrance affair, and I was quite impressed with their insight, appreciation, and agreement. The Elmvale Cenotaph is situated on the main street, in front of the town library. While I was summarily impressed with the deportment of the hundreds of students walking the few blocks from EDHS to the Cenotaph, it pales in comparison to my appreciation of that same 300+ hoard's conscientious, respectful participation in what was an involved, yet moving, service. Even the students who struggled with attention carried out their responsibilities with dutiful observance of decorum for the 75 minute (yes, 75) ceremony that included traditional observance, wreath laying, religious blessings, and musical celebrations ... music performed, I might add, by Mr Muldoon and his senior music class. 

I should take time to note that one student, a Sr named Jacqueline if memory serves, who shared an original solo piece beautifully, moving many to nod in agreement by her well written lyrics. She's quite the talent, if I'm honest. 

Let me be perfectly clear about EDHS.

I loved my years at Barrie Central, of that there's no secret, but I also loved my years at Barrie North, the staff being made up of a host of folk that I grew to appreciate in a short space of time, and I would willingly choose to fill in as supply for colleagues from those Central or North days. The Elmvale experience (sounds like a rock band name) is a different, albeit amazing, phenomenon altogether with a unique energy that I can only guess is part staff, part student, and part small rural town. With apologies to my former colleagues, EDHS has become my new favourite place to supply for. 

And I am amazed with how the town embraces it's relationship with the school!

Getting back to the Remembrance ceremony though, I've got a soft spot for November 11th partly since it's the right thing to do as a proud Canadian, but partly because I have a direct connection to the great wars and the sacrifices given. My papa, Jack Gladstone Keachie, was born in 1897 in Glasgow, Scotland, but moved with family to Canada early in life. When WWI hit, he enlisted then celebrated (???) his 16th birthday in the trenches. Yes, you read that correctly, he enlisted at 15 years old. Obviously, he successfully survived the experience since he eventually had my mother, who eventually had me, but to say that he returned unscathed would not be accurate. He struggled for a significant time with what would be labelled PTSD by today's standards, and for the rest of his days, he refused to talk about that experience lest he drag long repressed memories to the surface to be lived over again. Years ago, my mother framed a photo of him in uniform and his medals. When she sold our childhood home, my brother Dave was entrusted with guardianship of this family treasure. 

For my papa, for my family like my nephew Jeff Sarazin who is stationed in Germany right now, for friends who have served or are serving in the forces, for those that paid the ultimate sacrifice in any of those cursed armed conflicts Canada has participated in, I thank you for willingly giving that we might enjoy the freedoms and safety that we often take for granted.

Lest We Forget.

It finally happened!

It finally happened!

After putting 20,000+ km on my Argon18 steed since I purchased it, and more importantly my Hunt wheel set, I recently discovered that I had broken my rear rim, actually pulling 2 spokes out of the metal. I noticed about a week ago that my rear tire little wobble had advanced to a bike-inspired version of the Charleston, and I guessed with 20/20 hindsight that it was the compromised metal of the rim that was the culprit. I enjoyed a social ride with 2 buds this weekend passed and we discovered the spokes had ripped completely out of the rim when we got back to my RAV.

As you may recall, I went out for a big ride Tuesday last, and was inflicted with a rear flat coming back to the beach along the Simcoe Rail Trail, just south of Anten Mills, thanks to a wayward nail buried in the freshly resurfaced trail. It was soon after fixing the flat and getting back on the trail that I noticed the shimmy was dangerously close to the support frame making the slog through the newly regraded surfacing of the trail tough work. Showing my naivety, I reasoned that the weather gift from Ma Nature was far too valuable to waste, so I kept riding despite the pronounced shimmy, bolstered by assurances that subsequent rides would not harm my gears or frame. I was warned, however, that it could most definitely result in popping a couple of spokes, requiring a rescue run from Joyce. 

Well worth it, I reasoned.

As I mentioned, when my friends Hardy, Roelie and I returned to the parking lot, the deed was discovered as metallic shards were folded back like petals of a rose, barely containing the head of two spokes. Hardy, with all of his bike mechanic knowledge, assured me that my days of riding that particular wheel were over. Yesterday's activities included a trip to Barrie's Bikeland, the only bike shop I like that had operating hours on Mondays, where a knowledgable youngster named Chris offered a couple of solutions to make haste of my dilemma. My cycling itch was calmed with the purchase of a new rear rim that is scheduled to arrive on Wednesday or Thursday, and Chris has kept my old rigging to make for a quick set-up and swap when it arrives. All in all, only a few days out of the saddle ... of my Dark Matter that is, because you know I'll do a couple of sessions on the indoor trainer.

All of this has provoked a view of my year's stats on Strava. 

For those not in the know, Strava is a multi-tiered app that is the choice of many cyclists for tracking their training/riding. Using either the free version or the data-hungry driven paid version, the cycling community uses Strava like a trail Facebook for sharing routes, tracking KOM's (King of the Mountains), and posting segments. Being inherently frugal ... cheap ... I have opted for the free version and despite leaving a host of metrics on the table, have enjoyed perusing the available data's intoxicating lure. According to the app, I have traversed 20,855 km on my trusty Dark Matter since I first embraced cycling as a viable alternative to running following a meniscus mishap in March 2020, coincidentally the beginning of the Covid Pandemic. The first of my 29,357 all time km's were thanks to the combination of my old Legacy Compass mountain bike and Davinci Democles road bike, but the transition to the Argon18 Dark Matter gravel stallion threw the barn doors wide open to to exploration of the wonders around me, be it Simcoe County, Florida, or Guelph area.

All time, I have amassed 550 rides for the aforementioned 29,357 km's with 206,183 m climbing during my 1134 h of riding. This year I feel I have truly embraced the Bike Life with over the 420 h, resulting in 11,032 km and 2 m shy of 65,000 m climbing. That may all sound bewildering to you, but to me it represents a complete investment in myself and my health. I've written about Kevin Simms in other posts, and his role in starting me down this cycling path, and every time I am faced with raised eyebrow of incredulity, I am reminded of his words, 

"We ride to stay healthy enough that our wives won't have to wipe our bottoms when we're old and grey." For that, my darling Joyce, you are most welcome!

I would be remiss if I didn't also give credit to fellow cycling enthusiasts Hardy Wind and Jay Rothenburg, equally responsible for stoking the biking fire and being willing compatriots on so many of those wondrous social rides. It behooves me to also mention my SYGA (Simcoe York Gravel Association) riding mates for including me in their regular assaults of gravelly terrain in and around Simcoe and York regions.

Some might feel the pang of disappointment when they wear out their machinery. I choose to wear it like a medal of honour, a symbolic talisman of dogged determination and lactate-infused perseverance. The bulk of those 1100+ hours of riding have been in the company of me, myself and I as I contemplated my way through life's peaks and valleys, cycling tunes quietly caressing my eardrums, all the while bursting with gratitude for the wondrous sights I would never have experienced behind the wheel of my Tacoma or RAV. Plus, it's no secret that all this riding allows me to justify visiting the region's best bakes shops!

In no way, shape or form do I compare myself with the fictional Forest Gump, but I completely relate to the portion of his story during which, "He waas runningggg!" 

#lifeisgood #bikelife #retirementlife #livinginthemoment

Head scratchers!

I'll readily admit that life in post-retirement times is definitely less complicated with a perceived significant reduction in the number of required daily issues, but I'd like to go on the record that although the number has decreased, the complexity of each has generally increased, leaving me scratching my noggin in pure perplexity.

Head Scratcher Numero Uno surrounds my first-person experience of my brother's medical treatments. Joyce and I recently joined my SIL in a trip down to the Big Smoke to visit him at Sunnybrook because he's been in the ICU for a few days thanks to the complications his treatments have had on his health. He's dealing with a host of issues right now that are causing a pause on the final stages of his treatments, issues that individually are serious, but combined could lead to dire outcomes. Fully admitting that I am on the outside of the Health System looking in, it would seem to me that the various Doc's involved are prescribing treatments only for their part and they don't seem to be communicating, causing a profound amount of head scratching for my brother, his immediate family, and our extended family. 

If you've ever had the pleasure of meeting my brother, you'll already be astutely aware of his acerbic wit, razor-sharp sarcastic tongue, and devilishly wicked sense of humour. If not, well let's just say you've no idea of what you're missing out on. The ramifications of his treatments have resulted in an extreme amount of discomfort in things you and I take for granted, and the only way to effectively deal with them is medication. Unfortunately, that results in a fogginess that makes the confusing assortment of treatments all the more frustrating and irritating. The nurses, God love them, are bearing the blight of said confusion and even they don't seem to be hitched to the same cart. 

All of this makes our extended family anxious and concerned, brows fully furrowed, eyes squinting, cheeks raised, a look like someone is holding a small turd under our nose. Despite the noticeable, albeit gradual, improvements over the stay in hospital, we yearn for the veil to be lifted from our eyes that we might understand my brother's near future. I'll fully admit that my knowledge of the health system is very limited, and despite my profound appreciation for the compassion and empathy they have extended to my brother, I'm still perplexed.

As my mother remarked in conversation the other day, "It's incredible how much damage they inflict in an effort to save you."

Head Scratcher Numero Dos was a situation I became aware of the other day while supplying for a friend who was dealing with a death in the family. With November looming, those in the education system ... and those recently departed from ... are keenly aware that report card time is nigh, the deadline for submission only days away. For a number of years, teachers were forced to use a particular software for composing and submitting those reports to the office staff so that the report cards cold be printed for distribution. It turns out that someone higher up the "Food Chain" decided to change that software just last week, without inservice or documentation on dealing with a significantly different tool. 

Seriously? How does that happen? And why now? Perplexed only sort of explains how I feel!

My heart goes out to my education friends that are afflicted with this ridiculous scenario!

Head Scratcher Numero Tres comes from the curious minds of Ford Nation, most specifically, Stephen Lecce, our Minister of Education, and surrounds the absolute disdain he continues to show for education workers and the value they hold for the people of Ontario. Even during his first term in office, the privately educated Lecce demonstrated an apparent lack of understanding surrounding the actual goings-on in publicly funded classrooms, taking every opportunity through carefully worded misinformation and warped statistics in an effort to vilify education workers in the minds of Ontario voters, all the while deftly altering the funding model to squeeze more and more out of the education budget.

A few weeks ago, Lecce added to his already incredulous contempt by announcing $365 million dollars to fund "Catch Up" payments for children under 18, whether mainstream or special needs, payments he urges to be used to offset the damages caused by the pandemic. I say he urges because this handout has "no strings attached" and can be used for any purpose. 

"These relief payments are part of a $365 million Plan to Catch Up, which the government first announced during the throne speech in August. However, at the time, details about how this lump sum of money would be divided were sparse. This is not the first time parents have received payouts from the Ford government. Last year, parents received $400 per child aged 0 to Grade 12 while parents with children who have special needs under the age of 21 received $500." (Link here)

While on the surface this looks like well intentioned empathy for Ontario's children, it becomes an intensely perplexing head scratcher when viewed through a full-picture lens that includes knowledge that the PC's are in negotiations with Education workers, most specifically CUPE, the federation whose members include custodial staff in the SCDSB. CUPE members have been subjected to over a decade of imposed frozen or 1% contract raises that have lagged well behind the rising cost of living. The present strife between the province and CUPE will reach a crescendo this week thanks to Ford Nation ramming through new legislation the force CUPE back to work despite being in a legal strike position, thanks largely to Lecce's cronies walking away from negotiations. 

This is a slippery, slimy slope here folks.

The $365 million just given away would have more than covered the $260 million that CUPE was asking for, but to walk away from negotiations knowing that you'll simply legislate the workers back by again using the "notwithstanding" clause borders on tyranny. It's easy for those not involved to sneer in derision at the requests of education workers for better working conditions, but if the PC's can treat a well oiled machine like CUPE with such disdain, it's not really a leap of faith to see them doing the same with the Health Care workers, Emergency Services, or any other organized group. They're warping the law to suit their needs so any one can be caught in the crosshairs.

As an informed, interested voter, I find this choice of action alarming.

Look, I'm not writing and posting this to garner support for personal causes or opinions, but rather to shed light on issues that I find perplexing in hopes that anyone who chooses to read this might find it interesting enough to do some digging of their own. My hope is that if we are better informed, we can hold whichever group more accountable to act in a more common sense, compassionate manner.

Lord knows we need a little more compassion these days.