Transitions

It's June! In the world of education, that means celebrations are in order with proms, awards, and graduation festivities! While the little'uns are making their transitions either from pre-school to Kindergarten, from elementary to secondary, or from secondary to college/university/apprenticeship, there's a forgotten group of 'graduates' that deserve a cyber pat on the back ... your retiring educators!

With the average education career being in or around 30 years, the generational mix is an ever present component of any school staff's demographics, meaning you can count on a handful of retirements each June to widen your smile and melt your heart. Every school staff has those that are focused on this portion or that of the system, but somewhat less prevalent are those that cross over into multiple sections, usually enamouring themselves to a wide assortment of individuals. Mix into that those that also choose to volunteer their time outside of school hours for extracurriculars, and you've a recipe for demi-god status, and deep connections with students.

Regardless of the school, there are members who's 'transition' will cause those remaining behind to deal with the inevitable changes that will befall the school, and while it rarely disappoints, there will be a 'changing of the guard' as others will choose to change their skill set to fill the void left. This past weekend, I was able to participate in a few celebrations, spread over three very different communities, each of which demonstrated the transformative superpowers that so many in education possess. 

Leading into the weekend, I was asked to cover a teacher at my little country school in Elmvale thanks to a family wedding, and it just so happened that the day was the final one for classes in 2023-24, so as is customary in so many schools, there was a final awards assembly whose intention was to tie up the loose ends of the school happenings. While I'm simply an adopted son, as it were, there are folks that I have come to know better than others, creating a deeper, more profound connection, so when the beloved Co-Op coordinator's retirement was announced to the kids, a collective swell of "What? NO!"'s murmured around the assembly at the speed of light, mirroring my own feelings. Bill Neily has been at EDHS for 24 years, and during a career that included history, music (guitars), and Co-Op, his positive, optimistic, charismatic influence made a difference to a lengthy list of youngsters. Quick with a smile, a joke, and a hearty handshake, Bill's impact on kids was readily apparent, a fact i witnessed first hand when observing the steady stream of students dropping by his office for a chat. Add the fact that he started high school hockey for EDHS, leading the troops for a number of seasons, the recipe for cheers 'n tears was well and truly perfect because, if I'm honest, he's really easy to like. 

Congratulations Bill Neily! Your fingerprint on EDHS will last quite a while!

Continuing the theme that Friday, I travelled to the Big Smoke of Barrie ... Okay, it's more of a medium smoke ... to join the celebrations of another educational outlier, this one a long standing component of the Barrie North family. Scott Laurin has been there, done that over an equally fantastic career, the bulk of which were in a leadership role for the Special Education department. Unlike my EDHS experience, I'm proud to have been friends with Scott for dozens of years, first as opponents as we coached a variety of teams, then as colleagues as I finished out my own career at BNC following the closure of my beloved Central. Quick witted, sharp minded, empathic beyond compare, Scott's famous dry sense of humour is infamous in SCDSB circles, enamouring him to 100's if not 1000's. As was the Laurin tradition, the annual BNC end-of-the-year BBQ was hosted in the Laurin palatial backyard playground, offering the welcomed opportunity to share stories from the war chest, an adult bevy (or two), and in this case, a congratulatory hug, handshake, and smile.

Very well done Scotty boy, and I'm very confident that you'll find yourself plenty to do!

Book-ending the weekend, the final celebration required a commute from the Beach down to our old stomping grounds of Guelph for the retirement of long time friend and good buddy, Bill Price, after he 'pulled the chute' on a 27 year career, the bulk of which were at John F Ross HS. Bill and I have been friends for so long that I cannot even recall where we first crossed paths, but suffice it to say, it has been decades. As kindred Hoopsters, we are never at a loss for stories to share about this player or that game, but in recent years we've both welcomed the bicycle into our daily habits, and IYKYK, cyclists are never without something to discuss. Much akin to Neily and Laurin, Bill is a beloved icon at JF Ross because of his  cutting sarcastic sense of humour, easy going nature, limitless compassion, and genuine love of youngsters and their development. We had a grand visit, shared some nibbles and beverage, reunited with some old common friends, and genuinely enjoyed the occasion.

In my best imitation of a Scottish baroque, "Tha'll doo Billy, tha'll doo."

There's a really good chance that there are many others that have pushed the Golden Button this June, but the news has escaped my ears, so if we know each other, even remotely, please accept my profound and heart-felt congratulations on your transition!

Oh, and welcome to the Club!

BBQ'd Portsy

Okay, so I'll apologize for doing two cycling posts, back to back, but this one begs to be told! 

Honest!

If you snuck a peek at the photo at the left, and you ride every now and again, then you'll likely recognize what the pic is about. What I'd like to share, is HOW it came to look like that! If that object was a Mac computer, the screen would be the spinning beachball of death, but it's a Garmin head unit (or bike computer) and that screen is what happens when the water seal fails and lets the rain in. 

Now, we're not talking about a sprinkle or simple shower here! 

First, the back story ... I didn't get a call for supply on this day to I decided, "Self, get your booty out on the two wheeled stallion, and get some km's in!" The weather at first glance was warm ... duh, heat wave ... and sunny so eastward I pointed, with the plan to get through first Springwater, and then Oro-Medonte, with Orillia the turnaround destination. Other than huffs, puffs, and thigh burn, there's nothing to report from WB to the Tim's on Memorial Drive, my goal being to jump on the SCRT (@cyclesimcoe) to get home.

A text message from my better half, warning of the downpour she drove through on the way to a hair appointment in Angus, brought only scrunched up features as I looked up into a cloudless sky while I enjoyed my iced cap and croissant. A shrug, a mumble, and shake of the head, and off I set on the Rail Trail.

If you know the trail around Orillia, you'll likely recall that it's heavily treed for a good bit as you meander eastward, at least until you pass the 15th line. As I was crossing, I was startled by a rolling clap of thunder, prompting a scan to my right, and what do I spy but the darkest, nastiest, OMG'est cloud I've seen in a while. Ever the optimist, I reasoned the the trail was going almost due East and the cloud with its accompanying rain was much further north, likely hammering the hamlet of Edgar right then.

I couldn't have been more wrong!

In the time it took to reach the 13th line, a slow sprinkle became a full-blown deluge, the ferocity of which would have prompted devout souls to start building an ark. Even under the shelter of some very mature maples, the downpour resulted in me being head-to-toe soaked. What can you do when faced with a situation like this other than hunker down and turn the cranks ... you can only get so wet. 

As it would turn out, my head unit wasn't as waterproof as advertised, likely the result of a degrading seal around the screen, and the amount of rain that was lambasting me was enough to get into the workings, it presence signalled by a frozen screen.

I turned north up the 13th, right into the teeth of the rain, and slogged my way up the hill to Ridge Road. As I turned left, a flash of lightning, and the slightly delayed boom of thunder, signalled that the storm was not far away. Nanoseconds later, the hairs on my water-logged forearms stood straight up, an alarming feeling when you consider how hard it was raining, then the entire forest lit up like New Year's Eve accompanied by an eardrum rocking sonic blast of thunder. It was all I could do to stay upright on the bike! 

Now, here's a question, where does one seek shelter when deep in the bush?

I could see that the sky was lighter further to the west so I hammered it as hard as I could to outpace the storm and another close encounter with Ma Nature. I hoped that the downpour would lighten up, and It did a little, but I had to contend with a steady stream until well past the NE of Barrie. Another issue arose that only regular riders will understand, when the resulting gushiness of my bibs was having an unwelcome effect on my tushy, the recognizable discomfort of adult diaper rash!

Yuck!

The ending of the tale is a happier one as the clouds parted, the sun shone brightly, I dried out, traversed the remaining km's back to the Beach, and made the return safely. My bestie could only shake her head in bewilderment, a state made more profound when I regaled my close encounter with becoming BBQ.

In the end, and despite the obvious danger, it was still another great day in the saddle!

Now all I have to do is purchase a new head unit ... Ah, the bike life!

Companion Craziness

I don't often post pieces about my cycling addiction, but once in a while some neat happenstance occurs that I feel begs sharing, and one of those experiences happened on a recent gorgeous Saturday. While I thoroughly enjoy the solitude of an open road bathed in the sunshine of a cloudless sky with a soft cooling zephyr maintaining a state of bliss, you really can't beat the cathartic enthusiasm of a social ride with quality friends. When you share the perfect combination of banter, biking, and beauty, it makes for a memorable day, to say the least.

There's a small cadre that share a common craziness for gravel that I have ridden with over the past three years that boasts a multi-county makeup thanks to a willingness to make the trek from afar to join in the celebration of our addiction. We've dubbed ourselves the York-Simcoe Gravel Association (YSGA), featuring participants from Penetang, Wasaga, Barrie, Oro-Medonte, Newmarket, Aurora, Richmond Hill, Thornhill, and Vaughan, joined this particular day by invited friends from Walkerton and Innisfil. The chance meetings on this ride quickly blossomed into full on friendships thanks to the witty quips and repostes that fill the air around us as we wheeled our way through the local beauty of central Ontario. 

This latest instalment of the YSGA adventures was a re-ride of Simcoe County's Rail Trail, a 160 km trek the rings the county's wide assortment of landscape features thanks to reclaimed retired railway lines, single track paths, and paved recreational trails taking riders through a multitude of cities, villages, and hamlets that offer delicious tidbits perfect for the cravings created by the literal thousands of cranks of our pedals. In today's age of digital communication platforms, YSGA maintains a group chat that quickly disseminates information, facilitating organization with ease and haste, so by the time the mists of an early morning meet up lifted, our stalwart nine souls were already on route, having set out from the Simcoe County Museum. 

I have a longtime friend, Dave Byers, from my Olympia Sports Camp days who is also a retired teacher and cycle crazy old fart like me. He's been keen to make the trip over to Simcoe from his home in Walkerton, the SCRT high on his Bucket List. I extended the invitation, and in a hallmark of fanaticism, he made the 2 hour haul east in time for the launch of 7:00 am. 

I'm thrilled to report that he fit right in with our clan of crazies, thoroughly enjoyed the ride, and made some new friends along the trail. 

Tradition plays a large part in the decisions made about which establishments to offer our shekels for nourishment, and Em's Cafe in Coldwater is a regular pit stop for all manner of cycling treks, but especially those on the SCRT. Offering a wide assortment of sweet and savoury treats, the ordering queue at Em's regularly strings out of the front door, its dining alleyway made picturesque with a plethora of coloured camisoles. Coldwater is approximately half way when one starts at the museum, the trip involving a weave past Barrie's waterfront, the crushed limestone that joins Barrie to Orillia, the revamped cycle paths of Orillia's waterfront, and the ever-changing single track that joins Orillia to Coldwater.

The route from  Coldwater to Penetang easily features the most eye-candy of the entire loop, the paved path tracing the shoreline from Waubaushene to the Midland Marina before diving back into the forest up the substantial hill to Penetanguishene. In year's past, a stop at Midland's premium coffee shop, Grounded, was a must-do, but our fitness allowed for a bypass this time, and we aimed for the next traditional pit stop, Wyevale.

The Wyevale pit stop features the chilly sweetness of Jug City's soft serve ice cream, a highlight for not only cyclists, but cottagers all along the eastern shores of Georgian Bay. Hosting its own quaint outdoor sitting area, the SCRT just metres away, the approximate 125 km count offers the perfect reward to beat the heat of a cloudless sky. Not feeling some ice cream? They offer a host of homemade delicacies sweet enough to cure any craving.

By the time the museum was reached, the ticker on our bike computers registered the 160 km, a total that is coined an 'Imperial Century' since since it equates to 100 miles. Since he forgot to press start at the beginning of the ride, Dave completely looked the part as he rode a couple of laps of the parking lot to tip the total over the 160 km mark because, IYKYK, "if it's not on Strava, it never happened!"

Once completed, the satisfaction with a job well done is augmented by the possibility of "been there, got the T-shirt" because successful riders can post their accomplishment on social media, tag Cycle Simcoe, and claim a free commemorative Tee to wear with pride as the envy of all their incredulous non-cycling friends. One simply needs to contact the organizers through their web site (CLICK) and arrange the pick up.

With the deed in our rearview mirror, we enjoyed the continuing generosity of our group's Energizer Bunny, Ruth, who thrills us with her scrumptious baking on these long group excursions, some adult re-hydration, and promises to reconvene in the near future for another instalment in the SYGA annals. 

Another crappy day in Paradise, says I.

Reinforcing Faith!

If you and I are acquainted outside of this Blog, you'll already be aware that I spent a good portion of my years in education behind a whistle, coaching a variety of sports. If pressed to choose a favourite, I'd struggle quite a bit because while I spent more time in a couple, there were aspects of the others that were extremely appealing. Having said that, I'm sure it will come as no surprise to those close to me that rugby is near and dear to my heart.

Something happened in the Gold Medal game of this year's AAA Boys' Rugby Championships that reinforced my faith in humanity and young men.

Setting the scene, it's important to know that I still follow the local high school rugby scene, especially the teams led by coaches that are good friends, so deciding to make the 2.5 hour trip to Peterborough to take in the 2024 AAA OFSAA Championships and support the Vikings of Barrie North was a no-brainer. Making the experience all the better, I met my bestest buddy and longtime coaching partner, Ron Andrews, in Peterborough for a sunny, warm day of rugby along the touchline to take in the first round of games at the tournament. After so many years of guiding our Central teams to podium finishes, it's always a pleasure to immerse myself once again in the exhilaration of OFSAA rugby, unconsciously comparing mental notes about how Ron and I would have approached this version of the championships. I don't mind admitting that the ego takes a healthy dose of back-slapping when we make a return and run into so many ex-contemporaries, reminiscing about this year or that, with inquiries about how retirement is progressing and how much we miss the action.

As with all OFSAA Championships, the seeding of the 16 teams has a significant impact on the outcomes because a mistake here or there results in stronger teams facing one another in earlier rounds of the tournament, so when the seedings were released and the first round match-ups determined, we noted a conspicuous absence of traditional rivals like Saltfleet HS and Brantford CI, their replacements indicating a 'changing of the guard' as it were. One of those new faces was Kitchener CI who came out of the powerhouse CWOSSA region that featured Uber-talented programs like BCI, St John's, and JF Ross, and although we were astutely curious about their pedigree, the games we chose to watch because their coaches were old friends conflicted with KCI's games. We did enjoy watching old 'friends' compete like OTHS, Medway, and Adam Scott.

Although I couldn't manage a multi-day affair, I followed the rest of the tournament as both Adam Scott and Kitchener were on a collision course for the final, besting all comers (including BNC ... Boo!), demonstrating they were the class of this year's tourney. I was able to enjoy the action-packed final thanks to the OFSAA organizers posting the video of the game after the fact, and as I watched the game play out, I have to offer my sincere appreciation of both side's skill and execution, each solidifying their reputations as elite programs. In a see-saw battle, regulation time ended in a tie, resulting in a 10-a-side 10 minute overtime again ending tied, culminating in a match of kicking prowess to settle the test. After 1-1 from both 22m - center makes and 22m - left misses, the KCI kicker slotted his 22m - right, putting all of the pressure on the AS kicker to send it into another 3 kicks. 

Unfortunately, the kick sailed left and he dropped to his knees in exasperation.

Now, this is where the crux of this piece comes to fruition. In the middle of the bedlam of KCI's celebration at winning the OFSAA Gold medal, their Uber-talented scrum-half divorced himself of the melee and sprinted to the despondent AS kicker, locked him in a bear hug of sympathy, and attempted to help with the crushing sense of letting his mates down. A lot is said about the cruel effects that social media and the pandemic has had on the generation of teens attending today's high schools, with many a finger pointing at the misgivings that appear to be rampant, but scenes like the video above are proof positive that there's still boat loads to celebrate about today's teens!

For me, this was the truest essence of sport in a single moment, and I felt a pang of gratitude for the empathy and humanity of that young man from Kitchener. I don't know for sure, but I'd wager it is a moment that the AS kicker will remember for many a year to come.

Thank you young man, and congratulations you and KCI for what I think is your first OFSAA Gold.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye!

Hey! We have great news!

Our son Keaton popped the BIG question to his longtime partner Jessica and SHE SAID YES! Our family is expanding, at least in an official sense!

Backstory:
Our boy met Jessica Lyver in the most Millennial manner, through an online dating site, and while it was initially a smouldering fuse, once caught, the resulting fireworks and trumpets were thunderous! The courtship successfully spawned a kindred love that prompted some relationship hurdles in a less than traditional order, with cohabitation and home ownership coming before the ring, but if you know both of these amazing youngsters, you'll not be surprised in the least.

Present:
Something you should know about KP, if you don't already, is that he is very self-assured, caring little for what others think or say about him. You simply cannot tell him to do anything, and I mean that with all of the parental love I can muster. However, you can offer information about this or that, and he'll take it under advisement for a long pondering. When he contacted us a couple of months ago seeking opinions on a ring he was having designed for Jess, he'd already made up his mind and was simply looking to confirm his good taste. Jessica is an amazing other half for KP because her strengths compliment his weaknesses, and armed with a firm understanding of her desires, he sought out a well respected Guelph-area goldsmith for the vital task of creating the perfect symbol of his love. I will tell you that pictures do it no justice, and seeing the ring in person recently, I was struck by the obvious craftsmanship that went into its forging.

The clever bugger had it all planned out. 

You see, Jess has a bad case of the "travel bug" and had convinced Keaton (NOT a tough job) that a two week trip to Italy was high on the list of priorities for 2024, so he thought what better place to bend a knee than the Il Bel Paese (the beautiful country) with its majestic mountains and picturesque architecture. Of course, even the best of plans require a little impromptu 'tap dance', but once the wheel was in motion, the ring presented, and the question posed, a resounding teary eyed YES sealed the deal. 

How romantically cool is getting engaged in Italy?

A little while ago, Joyce and I made the quick trek from Wasaga Beach down to the Big Smoke, a direct result of Keaton and Jess' generous bequeathing us Les Mis tickets last Christmas, and as luck would have it, our first opportunity to share some face-to-face time came shortly after their return. Joyce and I had watched the Hollywood version of Les Mis starring Hugh Jackman a while back, but it was so long ago, we were a little foggy on the specifics, and with the musical featuring dialogue that was 99% sung, we struggled at times to figure out was was going on. The proverbial 'curtain' eventually lifted though.

The spectacle of the show was overwhelming at times, the talent of the cast sending sound shock waves at us as they chorally hit every note, the staging and special effects a perfect compliment to their thespian brilliance. We spent the nearly 3 hours siting immobilized, nary a word spoken between us, and the 30 minutes or so immediately following the final bows were spent in a bantering critique of what we just witnessed.

We thoroughly enjoyed the production and tasty meal (at St John's Pub) afterward, but the highlight of the day was seeing first hand the obvious love the two share as a newly-engaged couple, the excitement of the whole thing bubbling over as the trip was debriefed and photos shared.

It was indeed a memorable afternoon.

There are no firm details of the pending union to share. They both were adamant they intend to take their time with the planning, investigating and exploring what they truly wished their special day to become. For now, Joyce and I couldn't be happier that they've committed to each other, and we'll gladly enjoy the process of them figuring it all out. 

Unlike our Maddi and Chris, they won't (fingers crossed) have to deal with a pandemic, although the ramifications of Covid certainly made for an incredible day on the shores of Eagle Lake, something that this old codger will always cherish.

Life is most assuredly good.

Fudda!

This strikingly handsome young fellow is one of my long time friends, a relationship that was born in the trenches of Queen's football, and steeled in the shenanigans that were a staple of life in university in the early 1980's, a time well before the advent of cell phones, and the sole reason that none of us spent any time behind bars. If you're curious what the words wrapping around his mug shot mean, please have some patience, and all will shortly make sense.

I first met Frank Kakouros in 1983, his rookie year, and as a fellow "HOG" (offensive lineman), we shared a kindred unity of position and mindset. As the caretakers of the "sparrows", we were the piano movers to the team's piano players. There's a pride that comes with being entrusted the pledge of protection, a feeling that spreads like a pandemic amongst the unit, forging unbreakable bonds that have only become more enhanced over the 41 years since that fateful day. Frank, the other Hogs, and I have shared many a beverage, laugh, and story.

During the time we were wearing the gold of the Gaels, the witticism that accompanied conniving, intelligent (we had been accepted to Queen's after all), testosterone-infused young men was both acerbic and cutting. Some of us were bequeathed nicknames that made sense, a play on our names, like Porter begat PORTS; Harrison begat HAIRBONE; Schad begat SHADILLAC; Burleigh begat BURLS; O'Doherty begat OD; Larsen begat LARS. Some centered around home towns like Hudson was known as ARN, as in Arnprior. Some were strokes of genius, the origins of which I'm still not sure about, when Langford became SHARK; Mohr became BEAR, Galunic became TUNA, Kyle became JET. Some nicknames were born out of blunders and guffaws that were, at times, both bizarre and astounding, so when Frank one day fancied himself a nickname, and offered a few choice tidbits that he felt captured his rare combination of cultural panache and pride, the boys were having none of it. The revolving door of Frank's handles was born, the most populous of which wrap around his pic at the above left. 

I'm partial to Fudda, if I'm honest, and have used that for much of our adult lives.

Time moves at its own rate, each of us crossing Life's thresholds, the most recent of which was turning 60. I achieved that club status last fall, and with Fudda's big day looming, his best chums from high school wanted to arrange a surprise party, something that they knew would grind his gears, and they were loving it! They knew that he would simply shrug off the milestone as "yet another day" and they were adamant that they pull this off. The venue was booked, the extended family invited, the plan executed, and Frank was flabbergasted that so many would be so kind.

The planning stages had extended to the welcoming ears of a team mate, Mark Burleigh, a fellow '87 grad and ex-house mate. The mischievous Burleigh mind churned and spun, quickly devising a shenanigan of epic proportions, a boondoggle that would work best if a host of us would agree to join. A litany of emails later, and 11 hardy pranksters were able to arrange to meet in Pickering's Lone Star Texas Grill in preparation to make Fudda's jaw drop.

The piece de resistance was Burleigh's creation of the artwork at the top left, printed on Tees no less, worn with pride as we staged our giggling selves on outer side of the front door. 

None of us geniuses had the where with all to video the moment, so you'll simply have to believe me when I tell you that the look of bewilderment on Fudda's face as we stormed the room was worth every second of the planning. While we had travelled far and wide to arrive at this particular time, mostly from within a couple or three hours of the GTA, one of our kin made the extra effort to fly in from the left coast, so when Russ Glithero saved his appearance for last, the tear that formed in the corner of Fudda's eye was both genuine and heart-warming.

The dashingly handsome lot pictured to the right includes (from L to R):

Russ Glithero, Vince Panetta, Mark Burleigh, Chris Rik, Frank 'Fudda' Kakouros, Joe Valente, John Flannery, Tom Langford, Tom Stefopulos, Greg Baun, Connie Mandala, and yours truly.

Chalk it up as another chapter in the ever evolving story of us as we delight in the continuing camaraderie of an exclusive fraternity that is tighter than the highest torqued nut. we never tire of spending time, cutting each other with wisecracks, and rekindling the flames of friendship forged in the heat of the battle centered around our beloved Richardson Stadium. 

As the students oft cheered, "They're BIG! They're YELLOW! They're BIG YELLOW guys!"

And speaking of nicknames, I still don't know what the 'eff' a GG is! (Inside joke)