Monday 29 August 2022

Feeling flatter than a pancake

I've been compelled to write too many posts of this nature since I started this Blog, and I don't mind admitting that I'm feeling pretty down right now.

This past Sunday started out wonderfully when brilliant sunshine streaming through the bedroom window stirred me from a night's rest with it's bright and warm embrace. Following my normal morning routine, there was coffee and social media as I mentally revved up for what looked like another gorgeous August day, potentially at the beach. A post from a former student from BCC, Ben Browne, sent me into a tailspin, and further searching plus a phone call from Adam Duke, a parent from my BNC days, revealed that a profound tragedy had taken the lives of 6 young people from the Barrie area, two of which I had taught and/or coached.

It's inevitable that we all meet our maker ... as the saying goes, None of us get out alive ... at some point but to be cut down in the prime of your young life is horrific, to say the least. As an educator, we're introduced to literally thousands of young people through the classroom or extra curriculars over a 30 year career, so the chances of grieving the loss of one is pretty high, something I unfortunately have experience with. To lose two great young men in the same travesty is mind-boggling.

RIP Curtis King 1999-2022 graduate of BCC/ISS

I met Curtis when he was a grade 9 student at Barrie Central. He was placed in my HPE class, and as an early bloomer, was already over 6 feet tall, gifted with tremendous athleticism for a 14 year old, plus a mischievous glint in his eye. I would come to learn that Curtis had a great way with others, a wonderfully quirky sense of humour, and never shied away from the spotlight. It soon became apparent that his passion was for football, and considering his physical gifts, he was a standout on the junior FB team. A natural leader, he occasionally rubbed his mates the wrong way because he possessed a well developed sense of self, something they viewed as arrogance, but I believe was extreme confidence.

As a unique factoid, he was the last player to score a touchdown representing BCC, an accomplishment made only more awesome given the fact is was a one-handed, over the shoulder highlight.

When Central was closed in 2016, Curtis transferred to Innisdale and we lost touch. We shared brief encounters over his Sr years as he continued to shine on ISS's football teams until he graduated in 2019. 

It was really easy to like Curtis, high praise if I'm honest.

RIP River Wells 1999-2022 graduate of BNC

I first met River when he entered BNC in grade 9. He was friends with some of the other boys who I had in HPE classes, and as a standout athlete, I enjoyed his escapades on the pitch in both Jr FB and Rugby. It was readily apparent that he was very athletic and "tough as nails", as the saying goes. 

It was in his grade 11 year when he played Sr rugby that I got the opportunity to understand River the person. He was a relatively quiet young man, at least around adults, but was always courteous, pleasant, and quick with a smile when we spoke. He was quietly proud of his indigenous heritage, something we shared a few conversations about, but I knew that there was stuff going on under the surface that he kept locked up. As we travelled our journey together, I would find out that he had many obstacles outside of school that impacted him, occasionally putting school and athletics on the back burner. To his credit, he persevered through the high school years and I think came away with loads of things to be proud of.

I personally found River to be a great young man and I truly enjoyed our friendship, but he earned my complete respect with the ferocity that he played the sports he loved. Humble to a fault, he accepted praise for his play with a shrug, a grin, and a sheepish nod of the head. I only regret that I didn't make more of an effort to know him better outside of athletics.

One moment that sticks out in my mind was the celebrations after the 2019 GBSSA Championship Rugby game, a win that had escaped River's buddies and he for 2 seasons, when I found him amidst the hugs and hollers to offer my appreciation of what I thought was his best game I had seen. With a hint of a tear in his eye, he accepted my congratulatory hug and sincerely thanked me for all I had done. 

As it turned out, his cohort was not finished. As a group, River and his buddies one-upped the GB win by winning the school's first OFSAA banner with a Consolation Championship win over perennial powerhouse Brantford CI, a feat that I know made all of them extremely proud. The smile on River's face in the melee after the win told anyone who cared exactly what it meant to him. We didn't talk much when I  offered him a hug, and I took that to mean that he had found some contentment in his life.

Although we stayed in touch on social media following his graduation in 2019, we didn't enjoy a personal conversation during that time, definitely something I can only regret now.

The greatest praise I can offer for River is that I was truly proud to have met him.

To Curtis' and River's families, I can only offer my sincerest condolences for the pain they must endure over the coming days. To arrange your last goodbyes to your child is certainly something I wish on no parent, a torture that I can only imagine. To all of the many friends that they made over their short lives, I offer you an olive branch of hope that you will learn of the fragility of life, and move forward in your own paths armed with clearer understanding that things can change in the blink of an eye. 

To the families of the other 4 young people, although I didn't personally know your child, my most sincere sympathies for the same pain you will endure. 

Rest in peace and God Bless all.

Monday 22 August 2022

Lessons from the Beach

I spent the goodly portion of my life in a learning environment, be it as a receiver from elementary up to and including post secondary, or as a facilitator, again from elementary to post secondary. It's likely a 60-40 split, if I'm honest, between the classroom stage and the extra-curricular stage, but the learning was no less profound regardless of the setting. Being immersed in a learning environment was precluded by my innate desire to constantly seek opportunities for growth, and the change of surroundings to the Wasaga Beach area has not disappointed.

Some recent lessons have come directly. 
Some have arrived following a circuitous path. 

In no particular order of importance or impact:
A) You SHALL not pass!
Obviously not the kids I met
because that would be creepy
I was "oot 'n aboot" on the Dark Matter on one particularly gorgeous morning and happened upon three cherubic faces prancing and gyrating in an effort to alert me of their latest business efforts. Waving a hand-printed sign advertising their wares, they hoped I might consider a purchase. Little did these little pixies know, one of the lesser known MAMIL (Middle Aged Men In Lycra) rules of conduct is that one never passes a child's lemonade stand. The 1000 watt smiles immediately singled their delight as I asked what they had to offer as I retrieved a few coins from my handlebar satchel, and after settling on a cool glass of iced tea, they informed me ... like all great salespeople ... that I should make sure to come back next week because the fare would be expanded to include cookies. They were pleased to have made a few shekels, I was pleased to have supported their cause, and all was right in Fergusonvale. If you venture into the Flos Rd 4/Highway 27 area, look for these cutie patooty sisters on the northeast corner. You won't be disappointed.

I've learned that the MAMIL rules are legit!

B) Service Canada is fraught with ineptitude
I'll likely be looking at a stay in the proverbial doghouse for releasing this information, but Joyce and I recently attempted to apply for her CPP (Canada Pension Plan) payments since she had crossed the entry threshold for eligibility. The process was a new experience for both of us and included accessing the Service Canada portal after making an account. Coming up with an username and password is a familiar task these days so we hurdled obstacle numero uno with ease. Clicking CONTINUE launched the application for said account with its three options:
(1) Use a GCKey, 
(2) Use banking info, or 
(3) Use provincial info. 

Well, (3) was not an option since it only applied to Alberta and BC, and (2) was less desirable since it always makes us nervous sharing such info online, so that really only left (1) as the path to choose. The resulting pages asked us to set security questions, another task that was far too familiar, but also included a request for the birth names of one parent, we assumed to ensure she was who we said she was. After filling out the info, the responding error message suggested trying the other parent, yet to our dismay, making the suggested change only returned the same error. Perplexed but 100% certain we had answered correctly (unless her parents had some "splaining" to do), we tried one more time, and the responding error message now informed us our account was locked, leaving us no recourse other than contacting Service Canada directly. You can likely guess that we encountered ridiculous wait times on hold, and we opted instead to submit a request to have them phone us, anticipating a multi-day wait. 

I'm moderately surprised to reveal that it was only a 34 hour wait, and the pleasant sounding lady who called patiently explained that this was a common issue with their system. Wait, excuse me? You're aware that the system has a profound glitch but the glitch still remains? The only recourse was to have them snail mail us a PAC (Personal Access Code), a "service" that shouldn't take more than 10 business days. 

The happy ending to this tale is that it only took 7 business days to receive the PAC and we were able to finally access Service Canada's portal to apply for Joyce's CPP. The post script to this is that we haven't heard whether or not she's approved, but at least the process is started.

Cue the exaggerated eye roll, but we learned that first instincts are often valid.

C) All AGM's sound the same
Since our present unit is our first exploration into all that is condo ownership, we were recently eager to experience our first condo AGM. I tried to digest the legal gobbledygook prior to the Zoom meeting and thought I had a passing understanding of the issues that would be discussed. About 1 hour prior to the scheduled commencement of the Zoom call, we received a message from the management company that we didn't have enough owners registered to make a quorum, the threat of rescheduling hanging in the air. Since only 16% of owners were interested enough to connect, we signed on anyway with high hopes and were greeted with a few faces, some we had already met and a host of new ones including those of our management company. We all proceeded to wait 20 min for doors to be banged on in an effort to rustle the final few needed to make a quorum. Eventually a quorum was declared and the "festivities" proceeded.

Once the meeting was underway, I was besieged with flashbacks of GBSSA or OFSAA AGM's, procedures and protocols, but in the end, very little changed that would effect us personally. 

We certainly learned a thing or two about our condo development.

D) Way better than Netflix
Sitting on the hill that overlooks
JC Massie Field was perfect!
We treated ourselves to some Friday night entertainment recently, and came away with a refreshed attitude about the wide variety of opportunities that exist should one simply extend some energy in a search, opportunities that far surpass sitting on one's Gluteus Maximus streaming yet another questionable choice in the Idiot Box.

Thanks to a Social Media post from a former GC State colleague Mike Sabourin, we learned that the Barrie Rugby Football Club was hosting a Friday Night Lights game at JC Massie Field in an effort to enhance the experience for its players through a prime time exposition of what it offers. As it turned out, Barrie was hosting the Oakville Crusaders in a season finale under the floodlights, cheered on by a few hundred supporters, not the least of which were Joyce and I. 

What the game lacked in execution ... this was U16 after all ... it more than made up in effort and energy as each squad played their hearts out, and featured much that delighted the crowd, based on the loud spontaneous cheers that erupted. In the end, Oakville proved the better side on that night, but the Barrie fans certainly had things to be proud of. 

The best part, I would wager, from the kid's perspective was the post-game social that Barrie had set up for their guests to enjoy after the game. If you're not a rugby convert, the "beer up" is a highly anticipated and appreciated component of any "friendly" and makes the game just a little bit different because it's expected that you bash the opposition silly then share a beverage after reliving it. Since the participants were of the U16 variety, the "beer" was likely of the root variety, the pizza was tasty, the sweets hit the spot, and new friendships were created.

We learned there are absolutely things to watch that are way better than Netflix!

E) Wasaga Beach rocks!
Like all moves, there were a few trepidatious moments signing the agreement to purchase, what with new people, places, amenities, and services to recon, but we've been gosh-darned pleased with our first few months here. I've settled into all that is offered for cycling in the Georgian Bay area, and we've enjoyed so lovely walks on the beach. The weather recently was so stifling we looked to escape the sun for a bit by visiting a well marked trail in one of the Simcoe County Forest plots on the concessions nearby. We surmised that a shady wooded walk followed by a dunk in GBay would be awesome.

I see a relative cornucopia of trails as I navigate the side roads and concessions, so I convinced Joyce to take a flier on one not too far away. Parking the RAV, I spied a sign that indicated the trail was a part of the Ontario Federation of ATV's and guessed that it would weave its way through the wooded plot. Well, weave is not nearly strong enough descriptor for the zigging and zagging that was asked of us, and despite Strava telling us we'd walked 5 km, the map showed a path "crookeder than a dog's hind leg". A discussion was had about the ridiculousness of the path winding back on itself repeatedly, and some old-fashioned bush wacking gave us an escape from the madness, allowing us to walk on the side of the road back to the RAV.

We DEF learned that well marked trails don't always equal enjoyment.

We were both showing signs of the day's exertion, so quickly drove down to our FAV free parking spot, and treated ourselves to the refreshing water's of Georgian Bay. Whether it was low water levels or high beach build up, the water's depth is pretty shallow this summer, making for very warm lake temperatures for quite a distance out from shore before the bottom eventually gives way, providing a welcomed respite from the heat. We even had the foresight to pack a couple of "travellers" for a beachside aperitif to round our a glorious afternoon.

Definitely learning about the perks of living near the beach!



Wednesday 17 August 2022

Learning in a cellular age

Despite being a retired educator, I still feel I have a connection to the classroom and the ramifications of the many changes directly tied to the impact of technology on today's youth, and it is that connection that results in strong opinions about those impacts. Granted, I'm an educational dinosaur whose opinions are based on a system that doesn't function in the same manner as my experience would dictate, leaving me to sound like one of those "elders" I recall from my first few years in the saddle. However, a visceral reaction is a powerful force that prompts a strong reaction, and I definitely have one of those. 

The article that follows is a portion of a larger collection of writings that will make up a book being published by TEACH LIKE A CHAMPION, Reconnect: Building School Culture for Meaning, Purpose, and Belonging by coauthors Doug Lemov, Hilary Lewis, Darryl Williams and Denarius Frazier. The article focuses on the potential impact of cellphone use by comparing it to the harmful impact of tobacco use in antiquity's classrooms. While I personally find it a bit of "a leap of faith" to compare smoking to cellphones, and I can empathize with the frustrations that the two very different issues create (or created) for educators, I would like to state publicly that at least from my soapbox, the cellular issue is a scythe that cuts a wider swath, impacting a greater percentage of the classroom population. 

If you're curious now, give the following a read:

Doug attended high school in the 1980s. In addition to this making him the “senior” member of the team, as we tactfully put it, this gives him some stories to tell from a different era. Here’s one that his own kids find jaw-dropping:

He and his classmates were allowed to smoke in high school.

Actually, smoking was more than allowed. It was more or less enabled. There was a student smoking area with ashcans. It was marked on maps of the school. Smoking was legal, after all, and one common argument was that it wasn’t really the school’s place to restrict it. People also argued that teenagers would smoke anyway. Why not give them one place to do it so there weren’t butts everywhere on campus? Why not make it convenient so they weren’t also late to class?

It sounds crazy now, but at the time the administration argued that high school students were adults entering a world in which, it was noted, there would be tobacco. They would have to learn to make decisions about tobacco. The administration’s goal was to educate students to think for themselves.

They didn’t really do much educating in practice though. There were posters about making smart choices and an occasional cautionary video, but we all know how well those work. Plus, if teachers were supposed to “talk to students about tobacco,” they didn’t really know
how. Occasionally one might remind students that they shouldn’t smoke, but they were there to teach math, history, and art. Plus many of them were smokers themselves. A few occasionally allowed students to bum cigarettes from them. From the students’ point of view, this earned them status. Students liked to be “treated like adults.”

All in all, the argument was that it was clearly better not to come on too strong with the restrictions. The smoking area reflected school’s acceptance of and respect for young people’s autonomy. At least that was how they explained it. It’s possible they just didn’t want to make rules about smoking because they didn’t want the unpleasant job of doing something teenagers would have resented. Teenagers are good at making it difficult emotionally to do things they resent. It’s also possible that they hadn’t thought that a rule could be beneficial even if some people broke it.

All the while, everyone knew the truth about cigarettes. The data on the long-term health effects was readily available; it had been for years.

The upshot was that a lot more people became smokers. Needless to say, they paid a high price for that decision. It was their decision, of course. They’d probably be the first to tell you that. But it does seem odd, looking back, that the school made it so easy to access a demonstrably harmful product that was designed to addict young people. And the 16-and 17-year-olds whom everyone was so eager to christen “adults” were of course not adults. They were teenagers. Their prefrontal cortex would not fully develop for nearly ten years (around age 25). This made them especially susceptible to addiction because they were at the point in their lives when they were most influenced by their peers and most likely to make decisions that ignored danger and long-term consequences.

Of course, the teens wanted to be seen as adults. They argued this especially vociferously when it might result in additional freedoms, but the educators really should have been able to see the difference.

As you might have guessed, this story isn’t really about smoking in schools in a bygone era but is intended to make a point about cell phones and social media in schools today—specifically tolerance of something so damaging and addictive to young people. We also hope to point out that the arguments about why schools can’t or shouldn’t restrict cell phones are similar to the ones made about cigarettes at Doug’s school. Educators argue that schools shouldn’t restrict cell phones because it keeps young people from learning to manage their phones for themselves, because rules don’t work, because it fails to treat teenagers like adults.

And, sadly, as there was with smoking, there is damning data on the danger of the product and of teens’ particular vulnerability to it.

The analogy to smoking is flawed of course. People interact with cell phones and social media differently than they do with cigarettes. Cell phones are more harmful in some ways and less harmful in others. They are more directly disruptive to the cognitive processes of learning, for example, and are far more ubiquitous: absolutely everyone has one and, unlike cigarettes, left to their own devices students would and do use them in the classroom. A recent survey in the UK by Teacher Tapp, a daily survey app for teachers designed to gauge the experience and opinions of the field more accurately, asked teachers whether at least one pupil had taken their phone out during class without permission during the previous day alone. Of almost 4500 respondents, one-third said yes. Some teachers reported it happened
to them multiple times every day.

On the other hand cell phones also have clear benefits. We’ll merely acknowledge them here without trying to describe the obvious in terms of their capacity to provide access to information and facilitate communication in a hundred ways. And it’s worth noting that while we hesitate to use the word “benefits,” there were also reasons why so many people smoked. The biggest one, probably, is relevant to the themes of this book: the sense of belonging and camaraderie that came from standing in your denim jacket sharing a cigarette on a chilly morning. It made you part of a community—one for which you were willing to make certain sacrifices to belong.

To state the obvious, then, cell phones are not cigarettes, and the appropriate response should reflect the differences. But it should also reflect the fact that in our schools we tolerate a highly destructive product specifically designed to addict young people, and distract them from learning. Permitting cell phone use (and saying we are treating young people like adults when we enable their addiction) is not a viable policy in an institution committed to learning and building well-being.

Link to article

Let me be direct ... I have no issue with students owning cellphones.

What I do have an issue with is the civil disobedience that accompanies the overwhelming majority of student's addiction to their cellphone. As a supply teacher, I do not have the luxury of creating and fostering solid trust-filled relationships with the students in any particular class, so when I visit and make blanket requests about putting cellphones away out of sight, it comes across much like Charlie Brown's experience, "Waaa waa waa waaaaa". I use the term civil disobedience purposefully because despite making a sweeping request followed by multiple individual requests, students appear incapable of resisting the Siren's lure, their faces illuminated by the artificial glow almost immediately after the words are out of my mouth. I don't mind admitting that I find it Uber frustrating. 

I will admit that IF ... and it's a huge one ... they could pick it up, do something for 10 seconds, and put it down again, I would experience significantly lower levels of angst, but those actively engaged with teens, regardless of whether or not they're yours, will be nodding their heads in agreement that teens not only cannot resist, but feel that it's their right to choose the phone over the teacher or the learning. 

The second IF would result in a resigned shrug of the shoulders if student A chose this path but it had little or no effect on student B, C, or D. Again, it is my experience that the first swipe is the spark that ignites the entire book of matches in a blazing inferno of energy that puts a direct halt on anything educationally focussed. 

So the question begs, should schools ban cell phones? Should educators be expected to engage in the battle for control? Should administrators support teachers who find themselves in a war over it? Should parents support the school's insistence that "Johnny" or "Suzie" should have a phone intervention? Should students learn greater self-control? Should we even care?

If yes to any of these, what does the HOW look like? IMHO, the answers to these questions would take an army of policy makers weeks to generate solutions that might work, but as anyone who works with teens knows, even the best policies will encounter staunch resistance before they begin to enact positive change. Are we willing, as a society, to adopt a wait and see attitude?

It's not all doom and gloom, though. I have successfully engaged learning by embracing the cellphone. The problem for non-educators to understand is that Teacher Colleges do not adequately prepare soon-to-be's on how to effectively find and use apps or sites that allow for quality no-glitch lessons that include cellphone use. When you find a way to do that, you certainly get a brief honeymoon, but just like marriages, it takes a great deal of work to keep things spicy!

I'm glad this is a Blog post and not a social media one! The comment wars that this would create would be ridiculous, but if you have a teen ... or a tween ... in your life that you have grave concerns about, do you wish to spearhead the charge alone? Or, would you appreciate some help?

It takes a village to raise a child.

And that was without wifi.

Sunday 7 August 2022

He really is the BEST!

Sometimes in this life, we meet and make friends with individuals that we just click with, creating a relationship that transcends time and space, and when we rekindle that friendship, the cascading sense of "deja vu all over again" warms the soul, puts a sparkle in the eye, and generates enormous smiles. I was recently gifted the opportunity to reconnect with one Donald A Young Esq, the best man from my wedding 31 years ago this summer, on the occasion of his return to Onterrible in support of his youngest son who was representing Alberta at the Canadian Rugby Championships.

To be blatantly honest, the reason for the lengthy absence is that Donny moved to Alberta some 30 years ago, successfully challenged the Alberta Bar, and has wowed them at the Alberta Securities Commission for all those years. On the rare occasion that we found ourselves in the same province, our schedules have never allowed for a face to face, prompting the 31 year absence. Sure, Social Media has allowed us to stay in the loop as we shared some of life's moments, but sharing a meal or a beverage has been long overdue, so when he texted me to say that he was coming back east because Mitch had made the Alberta U19 rugby side and would be at the U of Guelph for the CRC, I was all in. 

Rugby game? Check!
DY? Check!
Reconnection? Priceless!

Donny (aka DY or Chub-a-dub) and I first met when we both earned spots on the Queen's University Gaels football team ... they were the GOLDEN Gaels back then, and still are if you ask me ... and over our shared experience we forged a bond stronger than steel. Besides our grid iron escapades, we also supported our university experiences working part time at the same pub in Kingston's downtown, the iconic Firehall Restaurant and Pumpers Bar and Grill. I'm not sure if you've been gifted a relationship that comes so easy that it feels like it's always existed, but the one DY and I shared (and still share) makes us like First Gump's "Peas and Carrots".

You'll likely already know that I have 3 brothers, and choosing one of them to be my best man risked offending the other two, so I knew that I had to choose my best man from outside the family dynamic, and if I'm honest, the thought process wasn't very lengthy nor involved because DY was the defacto choice numero uno. By the time that my wedding rolled around, we had lived together at Queen's (the sight of the infamous Coke track fiasco ... see end note), we had worked together for a number of years, and we had travelled to California together. In my brain, he was the BEST MAN!

Back to the present, I was able to make the trip to Guelph for Mitch's game vs Ontario, and despite the final tally in support of the boys in lower Canada, Mitch was a real treat to watch. I should come clean that I wasn't at all surprised considering the genetic stock he came from, and it was yet another thing DY and I could share since he was bursting with pride as he regaled some of the experiences that his boy and he had already shared on the pitch. As it would turns out, Mitch has committed to relocating from Calgary to Victoria in pursuit of his rugby dreams, and has plans to play for same James Bay RFC that Keaton played for when he was in BC chasing his own dreams. The icing on the cake was the news that Mitch had been invited to try out for the Canada U20's next year, and based on what I have seen plus being able to play for James Bay for a year, I'd wager he has a solid shot. 

Another common thread for DY and I hopefully, since Keaton had followed the same path to earn his own spot on Team Canada 4 years ago.

In the end, Joyce and I got to share some quality time with DY prior to Mitch's game vs Quebec, rekindled some of the magic from so many years ago, and got to watch another entertaining rugby game. All positives in my opinion. We said our goodbyes again and shared a long bro-hug.

We both vowed to ensure another 30 years wouldn't pass before the next one.

End Note:
The infamous Coke Truck fiasco!
DY and I were living on Albert St in Kingston in the summer of 1987. After one stretch that saw us work 9 or 10 days in a row, we were stirred from our exhausted slumber by an incredible POW! I sat straight up in bed and yelled, "What the EFF was that?" DY's reply, after a quick peek out the window was, "There's a Coke truck in the living room!" We both threw on some sweats and bounded down the staircase only to be greeted by the sight of a honest to goodness Coke truck half into house, destroying the porch and buckling the entire living room floor in the process. True to form, as DY looked the dazed and bleeding driver almost face to face, he informed said driver, "No, no, no. We ordered Pepsi!" 
The incident earned us a spot on the night's news PLUS a few grey hairs after we learned that the right fender had somehow managed to miss the natural gas pipe in the collision. As it turned out, the driver had suffered a heart attack and lost control of the truck, but was thankfully okay after some much needed medical attention.

50 years is a LONG time!

What feels like an eternity ago, my parents, three brothers and I lived in Toronto on Gaylong Court, just off Victoria Park, just across the cul-de-sac from a family that my parents quickly befriended. We were in the Big Smoke because my father was finishing his residency and hadn't yet begun his practice, a transition that would eventually see us move to Barrie. At the time, Jim and Betty Anne Tough had two children Karen and Michael (with a third, Jennifer, adopted later) but with the tragic passing of Karen in a traffic accident, my parent's help during the grieving created a lifelong bond. The Toughs became our close friends over our lifetimes resulting in our annual gathering highlighted by a Civic Holiday BBQ. 

After we moved to Barrie in 1971, my parents and the Toughs felt strongly that we should make an effort to stay in touch despite the distance between us. We had the space and the backyard pool in our first Barrie home on Varden Cres making it seem proper for us to host, with the annual Barrie Kempenfest Art Festival as the perfect excuse for the Toughs to make the trip northward. As the years passed, the location changed when my family moved across town to Sunnidale Road, it's humongous backyard, and larger pool easily accommodating the growing hoard. By that time, my dad had joined the Barrie Rotary Club, and the XY chromosomes were tasked with working the Rotary chicken BBQ. As time slipped past, like it always does, we inherited others like the Gary Mulroney, Betty Anne's brother, to fortify the ranks. 

My brother Rob, My dad,
Jim Tough and me.
If you grew up in Barrie, you'll likely recall the huge temporary charcoal BBQ pits erected at St Vincent Park, the drool-inducing aromatics wafting along the August breezes, luring hundreds to the north shore waterfront, cold cash clutched tightly in hand, searching in earnest for the source of the intoxication. The secret ingredient wouldn't last two seconds these days ... the chickens were coated in a secret spray whose main ingredient was peanut oil! We would work a hot, sticky, dirty day in the pits before retiring to the Sunnidale oasis to share bevies and stories alike. Eventually the Rotary club shifted gears, turning it's energies to the beer gardens and live band stage in place of roasted chickens, but the tradition continued on Sunnidale, and as our families transitioned to a third and even fourth generation, the impetus to gather became even more unavoidable. 

This past Civic Holiday marked 51 years of BBQ's, or so I'm told. Like the rest of the world, we had to take a 2 year Covid-induced hiatus, but 28-strong hoard came from Simcoe's farthest corners to share laughs, BBQ treats, and the year's news. This year's gathering was hosted by Michael and Trish Tough at their incredible outdoor kitchen and pool in Belle Ewart on the southern shores of Lake Simcoe. Mike and Trish have treated us all with their generosity for the last few BBQ's in part because they love to do it, part because they have the space, and part because my mom sold the oasis on Sunnidale in 2017.

If it wasn't busy enough with 28 humans, this year we added an additional 3 fur-babies to the Tough's Finnick when KP's Zuke, Maddi+Chris' Remi, and Rob+Jen's Howie joined in on the shenanigans. With the numbers swelling, we've all added our culinary talents to the buffet table but the highlight is always the melt-in-the-mouth beef tenderloin thanks to Gary's incredibly huge heart. This year, the host's delicious smoked ribs were a much appreciated addition. We always over eat with h'ordeuvres aplenty through the afternoon, but the traditional offerings like Schwartsy potatoes, delectable Ontario corn, the previously mentioned proteins, and Maid's Cottage butter tarts makes everyone hold their filled bellies as we cautiously squeeze ourselves into our vehicles for the trip home.

As the saying goes, "time waits for no one" and our group is suffering the ravages of time's passing as we lose loved ones like my dad (unbelievably 16 years this September) and we deal with our various afflictions thanks to our advancing age. The grandchildren are now tasked with entertaining the great grandchildren, a natural transition of navigating through the Circle of Life.

51 years is a really long time! It's a badge of honour we wear with absolute pride! 

From the Porter clan to the Tough's, a million thank you's for your continuing friendship, boundless generosity, and warm embrace every August. It is a summer highlight every year!

Who knows how long we can keep the tradition going?

Wednesday 3 August 2022

Parenting WIN!

If you know Joyce and I at all, you're likely already aware that we chose to have two children, and we were blessed with a "Millionaire's Family" with the arrival of our daughter Maddison then our son Keaton. As with all parents, the anxiety associated with being a successful parent was, at times, pretty significant considering that we were pretty amazing examples of offspring thanks to the incredible job our parents had done. We didn't get the tangible memo on the HOW so we had to rely on the somewhat hazy memories of our childhoods. Even before this week, we were pretty darn confident that we had succeeded profoundly despite our trepidations, but this past week erased any possible doubts.

If we're honest, we feel it was a parenting win!

Many of you will likely recall that our daughter Maddison found the apple of her eye in Chris Cove and tied the knot in September of 2021. Along with her betrothed came access to the toys his side of the family had procured, a palatial summer home on Eagle Lake in Haliburton region being one of Maddi's favourites since our side of the family did not go down that road. Our kids had grown up visiting Nana and Papa's pool on a regular basis, or Gramma and Grampa's lake from time to time. She was understandably thrilled to be able to share a week of vacation time on Eagle Lake with her "boo", and she graciously extended a hand to share, inviting us up for a a couple of gloriously warm days.

Arriving at the midday, we were treated to a storybook-inspired sky, azure blue with huge fluffy white clouds, golden beams of sunlight streaming through their gaps, and a subtle summery zephyr that was more intoxicating than the frosty adult treat in my hand. The Cove summer home is resplendent with soft sandy beach, lofty shade-giving trees, a wide assortment of gas and human powered playthings, all prompting a slow down and enjoy attitude. Since we haven't had the opportunity to enjoy such fantastic treats very often, we were thrilled to share a sightseeing boat ride tour of Eagle Lake with M+C+Remi (their PWD). Dinner was the coup de grace to the day when our daughter "Maddi-fied" the salmon we had brought up, and was the perfect companion to the roasted taters and salad. 

The only questionable choice of the day was watching "Dr Strange - Multiverse Madness" ... it was very confusing for someone like me who hadn't seen very many of the previous Avenger offerings. 

The following morning's idyllic vistas were wondrous to behold, enhanced by the sumptuous cuppa warming my hands whilst sitting on the dock and counting my blessings. Since Joyce was keen to have Maddi join her in a kayak around the point, I took advantage of the opportunity to grab my trusty steed and explore the concessions around Eagle Lake. Much like Huntsville the previous week, the roads of Haliburton are a roller coaster affair, rising and falling like so many waves in a stormy sea. Upon my return, Maddi wished to take the Albatross out for a spin. The Whaaat? Chris patiently explained that the Albatross was a mini-boat made in England at the end of WWII that featured an airplane aluminum shell powered by an aluminum, water-cooled airplane engine. While you can most assuredly hear one coming, you'd better have your wits about you because it will fly by your position quickly.

The drive home was passed with an in-depth conversation about how tickled we are with our Maddi and the life she's creating with Chris.

The week was far from over at that point and we had a visit from Keaton to look forward to! He was bringing his new-to-him fur-baby, Zuke, with him to see the new condo, have a visit, and go to the annual August Civic Holiday BBQ that we annually enjoy with our family's oldest friends ... more on that in the next post.

Keaton and Zuke arrived mid-afternoon on a gloriously warm and sunny day, and I'm pleased to announce that Zuke warmed to his Nana and Papa quickly. He's a recent acquisition for KP from an old rugby buddy that was moving to Toronto and couldn't keep him in the new apartment. KP and his girlfriend Jessica had been on the hunt for a puppy, and despite being 5 years old, Zuke was almost exactly what they were hoping for. He's a pit bull crossed with a Cain Corso and likely a couple of other breeds to boot, inheriting all of the really positive traits from the mishmash of genetics available, resulting in a friendly, silly, affectionate goofball. Once we all were sure that Zuke was settled, Keaton and I headed out for nine holes on Marlwood Golf Course where our new condo is situated. Golf is a relatively new undertaking of KP's and he was adamant that not only was his stoked to spend a couple of hours with the D.O.D (Dear Old Dad), but that he was footing the bill as a delayed Father's Day present. 

A more wondrous afternoon was not possible as we uglied our way around what proved to be a challenging front nine because of the need to hit some golf shots in management of some spectacularly crooked doglegs and strategically placed hazards. While neither of us was a threat to go low, we each had a number of good shots, a boat load of conversation, and even a few belly laughs. Having spent so many years of his youth in the player-coach scenario, it was a fantastic experience to be father-son enjoying both company and sport.

The day's end was topped with a beautiful beachside walk with Zuke, who's antic with his favourite toy and clumsy escapades into the waters of Georgian Bay the three of us giggling and laughing. 

Driving home from the aforementioned BBQ, we had the opportunity to reflect proudly on the tremendous people our two children had turned out to be, and how fortunate we felt for the grace that had been bestowed on us as parents. Right hand over our collective left shoulders and pat twice.

Yep, most definitely think it was a WIN!