Memory Lane: BNC's Paper Jam

UPDATE: Mickey Pucci's bio was added PLUS a link to the latest video for Steve Miller Band's "The Joker"

In my continuing theme of revisiting things that left an impression on me from the schools that I have taught in, I return to the halls of Barrie North ... or, more specifically, the cafeteria of Barrie North. When school is in, every other Friday during the lunch period, the cafe walls reverberate with sultry sounds of the Billboard Hit List that spill out into the connecting hallways, filling the heart of the school with excited energy. It is not uncommon during these times to find students and adults alike bopping and swaying to the rhythmic beat of an all teacher band affectionately known as Paper Jam.


The band is comprised of teachers presently employed at North, but due to the reality of LTO (Long Term Occasional) contracts, the faces change slightly with each passing semester. The mainstays of Mr Burke Erwin, Mr Peter Ritchie, Mr Jay Rothenburg and Mr Mark Pethick form the stable core, but Mr Peter Flood and Mr Drew Forsyth lend their vocal magnificence when they're able. Some of the band actually teach music ... Rothenburg and Pethick ... but most of them are in it solely for their passion, and spreading that passion amongst the people in the school is their main purpose. Judging by the smiling faces, swaying heads, tapping toes and wiggly bottoms, their achieving a Level 4 evaluation ... sorry, a little edu-joke there.

One of the neat things about Paper Jam is their efforts to stay connected to the school even during this time of isolation. To achieve that end, they have collaborated on a few songs that were posted to YouTube by group tech master Pethick.

One is a popular Foo Fighter song "My Hero" and was dedicated to all of the health care and front line workers sacrificing so much for all during the pandemic.

Their next song was in response to Barrie North Alum Jason McCoy who released a new single "We are one", a collaboration with Jim Payetta, then challenged Canada to make it their won. You know Paper Jam had to throw their hat in the ring on that challenge.

The latest upload was a cover of The Steve Miller Band's "The Joker" featuring the velvety smooth vocals of Burke Erwin and the addition of Mickey Pucci on support vocals.

Throughout it all, it is yet another example of teachers ... specifically BNC teachers ... going the extra mile to engage students by making their school feel more welcoming, accepting, and a little bit more with it.

The opinion of these old eyes would be an effort well received. Kudos to you Paper Jam!

Jay Rothenburg

Jay is the music leader extraordinaire! A BNC alumnus, he is the Arts leader, the energy behind the music extracurriculars, and even a published composer, having recently created the theme song for the 2019 Special Olympics. An incredible music talent, Jay is a proficient with a number of instruments. Active outside of school in a variety of musical endeavours, Jay is a tireless proponent of the value that Arts education can play in everyone's life. Adding to that, he's an amazing human and a good friend.

Jay lends his rhythmic abilities to Paper Jam as lead percussionist.



Mark Pethick

Mark is the Yin to Rothenburg's Yang as the other half of the music educator team at BNC. Together, they lead the various bands and ensembles that BNC offers as extracurricular choices. Not to be boxed into a corner, Mark has also offered his expertise to Arts education having taught Digital Media and Photography electives, much to the delight of his former students. Mark has one of the driest senses of humour I know, generating smiles for miles with his quips. He's a dear friend and a wonderful person.

Mark is the face with the bass for Paper Jam.



Burke Erwin

Burke teaches English, coaches football + rugby, and sires gorgeous children, although that likely has a lot to do with his wife. Seriously, Burke is an amazing human who also plays a pretty wicked guitar ... so much so, he makes me think he should have played alongside Bruce Springsteen! An eternal optimist, Burke is full of smiles, compliments, and friendship. Like Rothenburg, he takes on a variety of musical projects outside of school plus he recently roused his closet thespian as a member of the cast of Mama Mia, presented locally.

Burke shreds the ol' six-string for the band.


Peter Ritchie

Peter Ritchie is the head of guidance at BNC, and has been for a very long time. That's not a shot at his age, but an shout out of recognition for the fact he has taught, more specifically at North, for a really long time. In fact, it's been so long that I really cannot recall what he taught before guidance. Easily one of the nicest humans I can call a friend, Peter is a man of many talents and very well liked by the entire BNC student population, especially when he grabs the mic as the 'Host with the Most" at assemblies and presentations.

Peter tickles the ivories for Paper Jam.


Peter Flood

I have to confess to you all that I don't know Peter very well, and I don't even have a staff photo of him. I do know that he is a part of the Math department and that he has only been a North for a short time. I will tell you that he seems like a really good guy and that he has a great rasp to his voice.

Pete is the primary frontman for Paper Jam.






Drew Forsyth

Drew is a Limited Edition! Extremely intelligent, musically gifted, incredibly funny, endlessly compassionate, devilishly mischievous ... a true buddy and a guy I am proud to call a friend. Drew started out in geography but both experience and desire landed him squarely in the midst of Native Studies, first at Central and most recently at North. Being HUGE student favourite, his teaching style is part Einstein, part SNL, part Columbus ... and as the photo left shows, simply zany, through and through.

Drew has loaned his vocal talents to the band's efforts on occasion and has slipped behind the drum set whenever needed.


Mickey Pucci

Mickey is almost never beckoned using her first name. "Poooch!" is the most popular version of her name, and she lives up to the its blessing by being one of the most bubbly, happy, content souls I've ever known. Quick with a smile and a giggle, she is a student favourite. Perhaps her more endearing quality is her persistence ... she's gone a number of years now working as daily supply or LTO (Long Term Occasional) ... but last year she finally got a foot in the door so North will likely be blessed with her big smile for a few years coming.

Mickey lends her sultry tones to Paper Jam.

Remembering Martin Carl

BAAAAM!
A shot straight to the gut in the form of a 5 word text.
"Martin Carl passed last night!"

I stared incredulously at the text sent from my good buddy Jay Malandrino, and my mind quickly raced back to just days ago when Martin and I had shared a quick catch up at a local grocery store. The pleasantries exchanged were the fodder of so many conversations previous ... How's retirement treating you? The family holding up? I stood in my kitchen, lunch's grilled cheese smouldering on the stovetop. Martins gone? He was only a couple of years older than me. He looked great when we spoke recently. Talk about a wake up call!

Martin and I have been friends for 20+ years. We first met when we were both taking an AQ course being taught by Marty McCrone, back when he still taught at Twin Lakes. It was obvious to all of those in the course that Martin was tight with another guy he always chummed with ... a shorter guy with a great big smile and a wonderful sense of humour ... Paul Bethune. There are a bunch of memories from the class but the one that resonates right now was the source of a true belly laugh, the kind that leaves you with stitches in your sides, tears in your eyes, and gasping for air. We had to do a health lesson so Martin and Paul, possessing the wit and intelligence that they did, offered our eyes a video based on condoms and their proper use. If you knew either of these guys, you've just found yourself grinning because you can truly imagine what these two would have included in the video.

Eastview celebrates it's 50th

There are many people in the SCDSB that would have know Martin better than I did because we never actually worked in the same school, but I can say that we worked together on a large number of projects that served the educational community through the SCAA (Simcoe County Athletic Association), GBSSA (Georgian Bay Secondary School Association) and even OFSAA. From my perspective, Martin loved teaching / coaching, that was obvious to anyone who knew him, but what was less obvious was how much he loved working with teenagers, going above and beyond to ensure that they had a greatest educational experience he could muster. Many will recognize Martin as one of the forces behind high school football in this area. To many he will be remembered as Mr Eastview, having effected a profound influence there. Some will be familiar with him in his role as tournament organizer for a variety of activities. Many a student sought his assistance through his role as Guidance counsellor at Eastview. His name was well known and he had a great reputation.

I was honoured to have attended Martin's retirement party last June ... if you're doing the math in your head right now, yes, he enjoyed less than one year ... and the packed room down at Donaleigh's was a testament to the broad reaching impact he had on so many. I learned a few things that night that were previously unknown to me and I came away with an enhanced respect for how much life he had packed into his years. Even when the hour was his, in that quiet moment we shared after the speeches were said and done, he steered the conversation away from my congratulating him by prodding me about how excited I was to be closing in on the great transformation myself. For Martin and I, that was always the way our chats went ... he was genuinely interested on how I was doing and offered thanks on behalf of students for my role in things.

Humble only sort of describes him, in my opinion.

Having said all that, Martin and I had our disagreements, but they were few and far between, usually centered over something that had to do with kids, issues we were approaching from different sides. Martin was a passionate advocate, often getting his hackles up when he perceived injustice, but it always came from a place of compassion and caring.

I am writing this as a tribute to Martin but don't underestimate the cathartic influence it has on my grief. Martin and I paralleled each other in our careers and have spent a lot of hours doing extras for the sake of the kids. He will leave a gaping hole in my soul, such was the power he had to connect with others.

To his wife Aileen and his two daughters, I offer my prayers that they will have the strength to endure the next few weeks of pain and anguish. There will be a lot of frowns as the news of his passing spreads.

Val Hargreaves, a close friend of Martin's and who looked to him as a mentor, said it best, "Love him or hate him, everyone has a Martin story!" Too true, Val, too true.

Heaven just opened the gates for a good one.

The Great Realisation

 

I stumbled across the"The Great Realisation" video on Social Media and it left me thinking about the state that we're in, how it's affected my life and family, and what the future holds. Give it a watch and see what thoughts it generates for you.

According to site The National - Arts + Entertainment,
"When Tomos Roberts, a spoken word poet from London, wrote The Great Realisation and posted it in video form on social media, he didn't think it would go viral. Nor did he imagine American actor Jake Gyllenhaal would approach him to potentially turn the poem into a book. The work, which reimagines our post-pandemic world, is written in the form of a bed-time story that is being read to a child. Filmed at home with his younger brother and sister, the video has been viewed more than 18 million times across YouTube, Facebook and Instagram since it was posted last week."

"I was trying to think of any good that I could even fictitiously create from this situation."

Tomos Roberts

A Kiwi-born London resident, the transplanted Roberts is Welsh by lineage, making for a truly global hodgepodge of backgrounds. He's not looking for a pat on the back for his search for optimism during these trying times, but feels strongly that there is always "a silver lining" pointing out that humans have endured many dark times in the past, each time emerging with new knowledge, understanding and insight. During the isolation, he has been able to get reacquainted with his younger siblings Cai and Sara. It is Cai that is the young child in the video. A testament to its virility, the video has spurred interest to turn it into a children's book, although I would personally endorse it being aimed at all ages, considering the lessons to be learned from its message.

Roberts writes his poetry under the moniker of Probably Tom Foolery and is a movie maker by trade, even producing his own YouTube channel. According to articles I found, and in an intriguing plot twist, Roberts' parents and older sister are in the NHS, doing their part to help Britain handle the Covid19 crisis. I, for one, will be visiting Roberts' YouTube channel every now and again, since it turns that the next Probably Tom Foolery piece called "A Tale of Two Mindsets" about the constant battle between optimism and pessimism, is expected to be out soon.

As always, I cast an inquisitive eye on reports of wondrous things purported via Social Media, but if the stories of ocean life swimming the Venice canals, the crystal clear satellite images of previously smog-filled cities, or the ever so slight drops in atmospheric CO2 are as real as reported, our "silver lining" could include inclinations toward some significant alterations to our new normal, when ever that happens, just like Roberts proposes in his poem.

I can confidently share that Joyce and I will be continuing with some of the lessons we have learned throughout this time, not the least of which is structured daily activity, increased personal growth via writing and reading, and more attention to family and the ties that bind us.

I can only pray that everyone is able to find some good amidst the trials and tribulations of this pandemic.

Happy Mother's Day to all moms!

Psssst ... Don't forget that it's Mother's Day this coming Sunday.

Make sure that yours gets a reminder of all she's done for you. In case you've never thought about it, the job's not an easy one, often thankless and stressful, but all the mothers that I know personally wouldn't trade it for all the money in the world. The least we can collectively do to honour their devotion is a hug, kiss, and sincere thanks.

If you're like me, you don't always know where our North American holidays and traditions have come from. According to a little research and paraphrasing History.com ...

Our celebrations of motherhood has links back to the Greeks and Romans, who's festivals in honour of goddesses Rhea and Cybele were intended to pay homage to those who love and nurtured us. A more recent precedent for holiday is a Christian festival known as “Mothering Sunday” celebrated in the UK and parts of Europe, falling on the 4th Sunday in Lent. It was a time when the faithful would return to their “mother church”, the main church in the vicinity of their home, for a special service. As the allure of the church loosened its grip in the masses, children would gift their mothers tokens of appreciation and, eventually, the custom merged with Mother’s Day as we know it around the 1930s.

Our North American Mother’s Day holiday came as a result of the efforts of Anna Jarvis, daughter of Ann Reeves Jarvis, and was prompted by her mother’s passing in 1905. The original intention was to honour the sacrifices mothers made for their children. In May 1908, with some financial assistance from Philly department store owner John Wanamaker, the 1st Mother's Day celebration took place, fittingly, in a church in WV. Arguing that many holidays were biased toward males, Jarvis started a massive letter writing campaign urging the adoption of a special day honouring women and motherhood. After a grassroots swell in many states, Jarvis' persistence was rewarded by US President Woodrow Wilson when he officially certified the 2nd Sunday in May as an annual holiday.

If the story ended there, it would be a Hallmark heart-warming story. Unfortunately, even though Jarvis originally pushed for a family time between mothers and their offspring, involved the wearing of a white carnation and visits filled with family time, once it became a national holiday, it was not long before good old American capitalism cashed in on its popularity. She eventually became so disgusted by its commercialism that she actively campaigned against the purchase of gifts to celebrate, spending most of her personal wealth in legal fees suing the many groups that used "her" holiday to get rich. By the time she passed in 1948 Jarvis had disowned the holiday altogether, and even actively lobbied the government to see it removed from the American calendar.

I don't know about you, but I'm glad Anna Jarvis wasn't successful. I'll admit that I actively try not to contain my appreciation and thanks for all that my own mother gifted to me to a single day on the calendar, but I will attest that I make sure she knows how I feel every 2nd Sunday in May.

If you've read many of my previous posts, you'll recall that my father spent many hours each week early in my life stitching and casting people back together again, leaving my mother to deal with "the 4 warts" on her own for most days. Her super power was the boundless energy that she had corralling 4 boisterous boys and their many friends as they invaded our backyard and its in-ground pool. It was very common for us to arise after dad had left and be on the verge of bedtime when he returned, so it on many days it was all left in mom's lap. I'm not giving any family secrets away when I tell you that we didn't always make her life wonderful, and she was not shy about demonstrating her displeasure, but she was always there to offer a snack, bandaid, hug, or kiss, whatever was required. She was the taxi to all of our sporting events ... and there were many ... and I am confident in my opinion that watching was likely secondary to monitoring the other three.

I don't know if my mother will read this, but on the chance that she does ...  Mom, I want you to know how much everything you've done, sacrificed, given, accepted and tolerated is Uber appreciated and that I acknowledge the profound impact you've had on the person I am today. I also want you to know that I love the fact, as you so proudly state, that you've raised 4 very different men, and I agree with you that it shows how awesome you are. When this whole pandemic thing has faded into the past, brace yourself for a very long hug and a number of kisses ... I will have been stockpiling them for a while. I love and appreciate all that you are.

Memory Lane: Lights ... Camera ... Action!

I've written a number of posts about the memorable things I experienced being involved with Central, but some forget that I also spent a few years at North, and was duly impressed by a few things there, as well. Not the least of those experiences was the amazing series of elective courses that are Viking TV (or Vtv), skillfully guided by an amazing teacher the kids simply refer to as Emslie ... these days, you know that you've made an impression of high school students when they drop the Mr or Mrs and you're know solely by the your last name. Dave Emslie is genuine, compassionate, caring, charismatic, funny and really hard working, all traits that endear him to the kids at North. I am thrilled that we were able to foster a friendship during the years I taught at BNC.

For those that have zero clue what Vtv is, let me attempt to do it justice. Every high school has some manner of relaying information to its students and staff in a daily manner. When most of us grew up, that took the form of announcements over some sort of public address system. At North, that is accomplished via a daily live action newscast, affectionately coined Vtv, via an open-stream senior Comm Tech (Communications Technology) course available to gr 10 through "victory lap" that teaches students everything needed to know about preparing, creating and broadcasting a live news show. It is my understanding that Vtv was the brain child of Dave Fitt, a former BNC teacher who is now a Comm Tech consultant with the SCDSB, and has undergone significant improvements over the years to arrive at its present form.

Dave Emslie IS Vtv. While a loaded statement, from this adopted ex-Central viewpoint, it is an easy assessment to make. He is the visible face of it, he is the organizer, he is the energy, he is Vtv. His ever changing group are affectionately known as the Tech Crew and even have the wardrobe to go along with the moniker. Rare is the day that small groups of camera toting, energetic, zany Tech Crew'ers aren't occupying some space in the halls of BNC in preparation for the daily spectacle. If it is special, significant, or newsworthy, the Tech Crew will be there to capture the action, interview the participants, and create a professional looking journalistic expose to be broadcast that day, or at worst, the next day. All of this is possible thanks to Emslie's super power of magnificent multitasking. Having worked for a time in the industry, Emslie brings unparalleled experience to the daily problem solving that is Vtv, a process that appears to these eyes, as easy as herding cats.

If you pass through the main doors of BNC, continue straight ahead through the new Cafe, and veer slightly right, you'll immediately recognize the entrance for Studio 168, the home of Vtv. If you have zero experience with live broadcasting, you'll be surprised by the technical components at play in the studio. There is a computer lab, an editing suite, a control booth and set room that are filled with the latest and greatest equipment suitable to the task. On my various visits, I have witness the nervous energy of the most creative BNC'ers as they navigate the trials and tribulations of preparing for a broadcast that goes live each school day at 9:15 am. Some of the students gravitate toward to the filming, some toward the editing, some toward the microphone, some toward the control room and its telecaster, but one of the necessary components of a good grade in the course is taking a turn "on the desk" as one of two anchors of the daily show. Lovers of the limelight are free to volunteer to take on the roll, even if not registered in the course, but by and large the anchors are nervously manned by that semester's learners.

If you've not spent any significant amount of time in a high school, you'd be astounded by the level of improvisation that happens hour by hour, minute by minute, as the need to disseminate information is an organic process with ever present last minute changes. To navigate that mess, organize it into a sequential and professional broadcast, and solve the myriad of technical glitches that happen when communicating via the Internet, all in a time frame of 75 minutes each and every day is miraculous. All of the teacher/admin announcements have to submitted before 8:00 am each day so that the components of the 9:15 am broadcast can be written, edited and produced in time. It is the personification of organized chaos and requires the proverbial "patience of Job" to be at the helm. Now add in the fact that a significant proportion of the Vtv class changes each semester and have to be brought up to speed quickly, you should quickly understand that BNC has been blessed. Dave Emslie is that and more ... and he'll humbly tell you that it's the kids who are the real heroes.

Don't take my word for his wonderfulness ... Here's an article from BarrieToday.com about what he's been able to accomplish through Vtv on the national stage. CLICK

If you're interested in seeing the magic for yourself, you can visit the Vtv YouTube channel because why wouldn't you like to complicate your life by adding more to your plate if you were Emslie? You can find CLICK HERE to watch the daily livestream or catch up on previous features and broadcasts.

It really is a small, small world!

With apologies for the Disney reference, "It's small, small world", and the old adage about HOW small really rings true, at least for me. My wife complains, in good humour, that we can't go anywhere without bumping into someone I know but, truth be told, it really only happens in Ontario, where I've spent most of my life, or at sporting events, where so many like-minded people congregate. As my memory fades little by little, it's harder to recall all of the stories, but these are a few that make me smile.

Many of you will know that my father, Dr Terry Porter, was the only orthopod in Barrie for the longest time. That means that he has treated or interacted with a huge number of people, so the chances of me encountering people who knew him are pretty darn high. Now, couple that with the fact that he was a standout athlete at East York CI, getting noticed by scouts for baseball and hockey, and then continued to excel at Queen's University, eventually honoured by being inducted in their Football Hall of Fame, and you likely don't need more than one or two degrees of separation.

One of those stories happened while I was coaching the Georgian College Men's Rugby team. We had a youngster who made the squad who it turned out had come to us via East York CI. Revealing this little tidbit prompted us to share a small conversation after practice where it came to light that he was the inaugural recipient of an award that was created in my father's name by some of the players from my father's playing days at ECI. What's that? Two degrees?

Another story that involves my father and mother centers around a vacation that they took when I was still in elementary school back in 1972. They decided it would be a pretty neat experience to visit Russia, and since it was 1972 and the Canada-Russia hockey series was happening, they decided to take in a game. After the game, they were walking through Lenin Square when from amidst the babble of Russian they heard a voice in English, "Hey Tort!" You should know that my father's nick name at Queen's was Tortoise even though, for the life of me, I can't remember why. The shouter was a friend from Queen's medical school who shared the same notion of a vacation in Russia. That's a small world!

Growing up in Barrie from Gr 3 to OAC, then teaching-coaching in Barrie fro 29.5 years, it stands to reason that I would encounter numerous people whom I shared a commonality with, but some of my own personal stories still make my eyebrows rise.

In a previous post, I shared that I fully recognize I have led a privileged life. Following my university graduation, as was the tradition in my family, graduation earned you a trip somewhere with the Dear Ol' Dad, and I chose the Cayman Islands. I know, I know, rough life, eh? Anyway, it was a pretty cool thing to be 22 and away with your dad, and we were enjoying all that the Cayman's had to offer. A couple of days into it, we were walking one of its amazing white beaches, enjoying the sunset and the lack of people. Far down the beach, I could see there was a small group walking our way. As we both continued, I guessed that the group was comprised of young ladies approximately my age, and there was a feeling brewing. NO, not that feeling, but more of a Deja Vu. Ultimately, the encounter happened and, wouldn't you know it, the group was 5 girls I had just graduated with from Queen's PHE. It turned out that one of the girls parents owned a place there and they were celebrating the same thing I was. After introducing my father, we shared a lovely evening swapping stories and giggling. It really is a very small world.

When I was in my first year at Queen's, I chose to live in residence. The guy next door to me on my floor turned out to be a standup guy that you want to hang around with and we spent many a night laughing, singing along with his guitar, and generally being young university types. His name was Homer and he was in BCom. After year one, we drifted apart, occasionally running into each other at campus events, but we lost that first year magic. Fast forward 30 years and I am teaching at Central, organizing the school's yearbook class, and in walks Homer's doppleganger. It turns out that Homer had graduated BCom, gone on to Law School and set up practice in Barrie, of all places. His doppleganger was his son Isaak. We ended up having a great visit on parent night, rehashing our nefarious first year adventures ... oh, and Isaak turned out to be a pretty cool kid! The Circle of Life in play once again.

I was in BC in 2013, at the University of British Columbia, supporting my son Keaton as he represented Ontario at the National Rugby Championships. The rugby world is a small place since rugby is a fringe sport, so running into a long lost friend would not be a small world story ... but this one is. Watching KP do his thing one game, I felt a tap on the shoulder and, turning around, I found John Tait, the Canadian Women's 7s Rugby head coach. John is a Barrie boy and we hadn't seen each other in a number of years. We were chatting, watching, and generally enjoying the visit when he lamented that Barrie Central hadn't sent him any talent lately. I quickly retorted with names like Megan Gibbs, Emily Belchos, and Claragh Pegg who had proven to be very successful, but he countered that they were 15-a-side players and useless to him as 7s coach. He changed the conversation stream and asked about quality athletes that had recently graduated. I told him that one of the most talented athletes I had ever coached was a basketball player named Megan Lukan who recently graduated from her NCAA career and, interestingly, she had been a good rugby player as well. Judging by his raised eyebrows, John was interested, so I immediately texted Megan and put her in touch with John. One thing led to another and Megan traded a round ball for an oblong one, became a significant piece of the National team puzzle, and won an Olympic Bronze medal in 2016. The Circle closes again.

SIDE NOTE: Megan's "little" sister Kaili was every bit the athlete and she also made the switch from basketball to rugby 7s, following in her sister's footsteps. She is a mainstay on the Canada 7s right now with hopes of playing in the postponed 2020 Olympics.

Speaking of the Lukan clan, I was blessed with coaching all three Lukan girls and was reacquainted with their mother Marg, who was a friend of a friend in high school when she went to Innisdale. Marg was raising the girls as a single parent and was a big part of the reason that they excelled. As I became closer to the family, I was introduced to the girl's father John, and as we grew what I thought was a new friendship, we realized that our paths had crossed previously, way back in university football days. John played for St Mary's, and in 1985, we faced each other in the national semifinals, a game I have tried to banish from my memory after SMU came from behind in the 4th quarter. We shared a good laugh, reminisced and marvelled at how crazy life is that we would come full circle.

I am sure that any of you reading this have your own stories ... if we ever get out of this Covid quarantine business, I'd love to share a bevy and a bonfire while you recount the details.

My life on a rollercoaster!

I have lived a pretty privileged life, I admit that freely. As such, I have never had to look very far for a meal or a snack. One of the pitfalls of living a privileged life is the ability to eat WHAT I want, WHEN I want, HOW much I want, WHERE ever I want and, that coupled with oscillating will power, has led to some pretty serious peaks and valleys in my body dimensions. It is a life long struggle where I have succeeded and failed multiple times, likely having lost 5 times my body weight over all of those years ... I'm NOT exaggerating! This is a post about the trials and tribulations of being me ... it IS NOT pointing the finger of blame at anyone else, my parents included, because as I have remarked on a number of occasions, I have never accidentally eaten any thing!

Looking at some photos from my younger years, I can see a pretty healthy kid who had a nagging roll or two near his belt line. I recall being pretty active ... I did grow up in the times when playing outside was actually encouraged ... and I was blessed to participate in a number of unorganized activities and organized sports, even spending entire summers away at a canoe camp in Algonquin Park. Revisiting my pre-puberty memories, I can visualize scenes of me helping myself to multiple helpings of dinner, regularly eating nigh up to, and occasionally beyond, my satiation level. I grew up in a family of 4 boys who were all built like me, with similar appetites, and my mother was a good cook. She would cook a limited amount of dinner and the four of us would race to finish our first plate so we could get seconds, shaping habits that bewilder my wife and prompt, "Do you even breathe when you eat?"

As a consequence of a privileged life, I have grown up with the cupboards and fridge well stocked, allowing an independent youth to retrieve a snack whenever it was desired, and my brain desired it a lot. During the times that I chose to be Uber active, the energy in more or less equaled the energy out and my overall health was okay. Unfortunately, during the times that I chose to be less active, the balance was tipped heavily in an undesirable direction and my overall health suffered. Any psychologists reading this will immediately point out that radical changes to my thinking were/are required ... Yep, I get that, but I have struggled with this for a very long time. I eat when I am bored, when I am stressed, or in response to some cues, with watching sports on TV being a HUGE one.

Over the years, I have ridden the diet roller coaster. I remember keeping things at bay somewhat successfully throughout high school and university, again, mostly due to my chosen level of activity. Like all good things, my playing days came to an inevitable completion, and a combination of my continued over-indulgence, working a  hospitality lifestyle, and near nothing activity led to my first trip north of 300 lb massiveness. I had become like Charles Barkley, except there was no rebound to my round mound. My mother was the one who ultimately got through to me, sponsoring me to try Nutrisystem, and with my addictive, full-focused mentality in place, and I lost over 100 lb, becoming a poster boy for the company. What a lot of people didn't know was how active I had chosen to become, embracing running my activity choice, while radically changing the composition of my diet. Joyce and I got married soon after that so fitting into a reasonably sized tux was not an issue.

That lasted for a while. I was able to keep things in check for most of my elementary teaching career, but those old demons of over-work coupled with under-active creeped back into my life, as did my ever expanding waistline. Around that time, I was hired to teach at Barrie Central, joined some colleagues who were activity buffs, prompting me to "sacrifice" some duties during lunch to start running again, leading to the expected and desired reduction of what I remember to be around 60 lb.

Of course, old habits die hard, and a return to my ways of indulgence and negligent activity became more evident as I approached my 40th birthday. Looking back at the photographic evidence, I could see I was entering uncharted territory. My darling wife, ever so patient with my faults, coerced me to take charge again, and I was able to hover around 260 lb, or thereabouts, for a few years. That continued until I approached the dreaded 50th birthday and even I couldn't explain away my prominent belly that cleared the threshold a few seconds before my face did. A sad but humorous story to demonstrate the mental gymnastics I have allowed myself to participate in at various times in my life happened between Christmas and New Years in 2013. I was choosing to be very busy with teaching, coaching, parenting and almost everything else except fitness, eating too much and too often, things that I knew I shouldn't. I knew that I was gaining weight but I was rationalizing internally that it wasn't that bad. I had been stepping on the bathroom scale for feedback and it was telling me that I hadn't hit that magic 300 lb "line in the sand" that prompted panic. On three consecutive weighings, I hit 300 on the dot until it finally raised my curiousity.
"Hey Joyce. Do you know if there's something wrong with the scale?"
"I don't think so. Why?"
"It keeps saying the same weight."
"What does it say?"
"That I'm 300 lb."
"Hmmm ... I'm pretty sure that it only goes to 300."

YIKES, I thought, there's a good chance that I was well north of 300! Time to do something about that if I wished to see my children's marriages and my grandchildren. That was January 2013.

As usual, I embraced the choice to become more active, but my 50 year old body was not having anything to do with it. It was a true struggle this time, and I quickly realized that I would have to do other things to support my old habit of running the weight off. I had always loved resistance training ... a byproduct of varsity football days ... so it was a natural companion to the running, and true to form, I put the new regime in a strangle hold. As the weight slowly waned, and my frame added muscle, I started to feel better than I had in years, and something pretty cool happened. I actually embraced more nutritious cooking and portion control, leading to a full scale wardrobe change and I massive feeling of pride in a job well done. Joe Public saw a previously obese bald guy transform into first a Grizzly Adams type (those of you old enough will understand the reference) followed by a huge Handlebar Moustache accompanied by flowing locks. All was well and good.

That is, it was good, until I was transferred to North with the closing of Central. It was the new teaching duties, new teams + athletes, new colleagues, and new weight room which all combined to nudge me backwards. At first it was okay since I would make some time here and there to get active, but as my years at North continued, my old hard-wired habits surfaced again and their slowly changing body dimension issues. I'm usually the one behind the camera so I don't have a ton of pics capturing me in action. I can hear you thinking, "P ... you post a ton of selfies." which is true, but selfies are almost always shot at a good angle, hiding the evidence. In the few I have that other people took, hints of a slowly expanding midriff are detectable. As the end of a career loomed, the goal was make a few of those familiar changes and step confidently into retirement on the right path.

There is a happy ending to the story, however, because finally reaching the age that I could retire, with the increase in "ME time", I resurrected those habits from my early 50's. Starting the process in Florida was the easy part ... biking, walking and lifting are simple choices when the weather is warm and dry ... and the mandated isolation has only provided a minor challenge in motivation, shifting from the GC Fitness Center to the basement. I will tell you that the body weight exercise craze is more like powerlifting when you're a man of girth! I am proud to tell all that I am making progress, I can see the desired changes already, and I am thrilled to also tell you that Joyce has embraced the daily fitness routine too ... thank you YouTube! We have settled into the daily routine and are both feeling it's important to stay the course so we'll see where the next few months goes.

Wish us Luck!