My mind's menagerie

I haven't taken the time to tame my wild thoughts over the past couple of weeks, so I compartmentalized them, much like a mental menagerie. To those that have offered appreciation for my sharing those thoughts once tamed, I offer my apologies for that. For one, there were a limited number of new-to-me things that were happening, but more importantly, I was choosing the "Honey Do" list for the new condo over spending time in front of my laptop. Considering how much I enjoy my authoring escapades, it's curious that I allowed myself to put it on the back burner. As the famous movie quote goes, "I'm baaaack!" Reminiscing over the last couple of weeks, I realize that our life has been punctuated by some things Blog-worthy, so here all y'all go ...

The most profoundly impactful of the events was the news that my brother Rob is going through a bit of a health scare. For anyone that hasn't had the pleasure of meeting him, this little story is more understandable with the knowledge that he has been a proud "Duck Dynasty" alternate for a number of years. His beard was something glorious to behold, making him easily indentified in the photo on the right, taken at his 50th. I used the past tense on purpose because he recently decided to go from full beard to goatee, albeit a massive version, and the trim revealed a worrisome lump on the side of his neck. Multiple tests, biopsies, and a recent surgery to remove a tonsil affected by something that didn't belong, he is now waiting to hear what the medical community has up their sleeve for treatment as a result of the tissues removed.

It's the waiting that is the toughest part.

When you're not even sure of the questions that need to be asked because you don't have the information you need to formulate those questions around, you find yourself going down some rabbit holes that are pretty dark, and that doesn't do anyone any good. In the grand scheme of things, the wait time has been relatively short, and he's still trying to turn a corner with healing from the surgery, but follow up tests this week should bring some much desired information. I've tried to stay in regular contact with him but I have to temper my desire to help with paranoia of making a nuisance of myself. 

He and his immediate family have enough to worry about right now. 

Lightening the mood a bit, Joyce and I were able to make the much overdue trip up to Haliburton for a visit/check-in with my MIL Pearl. It's a difficult situation, if I'm being honest, because she lives by herself since my FIL Jim passed ... his 4-year "passing-versary" is the 25th of this coming week ... and she lives about midway between us and Joyce's brother Gary who lives in the hamlet of Cobden, near Pembroke. While you should know that she's a warrior, belying her almost 93 years by living on her own without a car and still sharp as the proverbial tack, it does create some worry for Joyce and I. On this particular trip, we had to take care of some financial issues that were looming so we proctored an appointment with her bank and came away extremely pleased with the service we received from the manager there, a lady named Jacquline I think. As a celebration of our good fortune, we enjoyed a most delicious lunch and chat, leaving the three of us full of good spirits and smiles. I forgot to take an updated photo while we were there ... the one above left is her 91st birthday.

Never shy about counting our blessings, we decided that we could attempt to combine the trip to Haliburton with a visit to Joyce's bestie, Cassandra, who after a number of years in Barrie, had relocated with her hubby, Robert, to Huntsville. Changing primary homes meant doing some significant upgrades to their summer home on Fairy Lake, so Joyce reached out to see if they would be up for a visit from us so that we could see for ourselves the outcome of the changes. While still a "work in progress" thanks to the cottage country tradesman mentality, we came away quite impressed with how the reno's were shaping up! Having stayed with Pearl until the late afternoon, we made the relatively short trek up highway 35, and arrived "fashionably late" for dinner.

We enjoyed yet another fantastic meal and chat, catching each other up on the nitty gritty of our families, capped it off with a pleasant walk around their little community, eventually surrendering to the "Sandman" in true retired fashion. The rising sun the next day brought with it both glorious temperatures and story book skyline as white puffy clouds and azure blue sky greeted us, the icing on the cake for enjoying a Friday in Muskoka. Robert is the only one of our foursome still "punching the clock" regularly, but at least he has been granted the welcomed privilege of doing so from the comfort of all that Huntsville offers. Joyce and Cassandra were itching for a kayak exploration of Fairy Lake ... well, Joyce was itching at least ... so I readied myself for quick rip around the cottage roads so that we could limit the disruption of Robert's work day. 

I had never experienced Huntsville's rolling hills ... Holy Cow!

I had mapped out a route that was moderate, at least by my standards, but I soon found that while the distance "as the crow flies" was moderate, the elevation fluctuations inflicted on my thighs were extreme! Somewhat like the rolling hills of the Guelph area, Huntsville features double or even triple the elevation, making my old ticker scream for mercy on some of the ascents. While the inevitable downside of the hill was a welcomed respite, the speeds realized on cottage roads begged for caution, to say the least. As you might expect, cottage roads are sometimes asphalt, sometimes pock marked with potholes, and sometimes rutted, rock-infested ridiculousness. The worst of the last type came on the southern shores of Fairy Lake on the route home, featuring a daunting 17% grade (thanks to my Garmin for the data) that became the only hill on the day that forced the abandonment of my ascent as the need to stand out of the saddle didn't work well with the loose rocks and deep, rain-etched ruts, leaving my tires spinning unchecked. In the end, it was a very average 47 kms horizontally, but definitely one of the harder 47 I've experienced thus far in my cycling escapades. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you to Cassandra + Robert for sharing so generously!

To round out my list of smile-inducers, there have been a few smaller events that shone happiness on our lives over the past few weeks:

Thanks to a recent IKEA purchase that we had delivered to a depot in Barrie, I was reacquainted with a former student from my days at Central. Finding the depot was an adventure in itself, but entering the large warehouse area, I called out, "Hello! Anyone home?" only to be surprised with the reply, "I know that booming voice!" Turning the corner from behind a skid of boxes came Jeff, a student who was in my Barrie Central HPE classes on a couple of occasions. We had a great, albeit short, catch-up. 

Like most teachers, I find reconnecting with former students AWESOME!

The guy that is responsible for my introduction to cycling is Kevin Simms, a now retired former colleague at Barrie North. Not one to sit still for very long, Kevin is the head coach for the youth cycling team called the Toronto Hustle. He and his charges are jetting off to Belgium and the Netherlands for a summer cycling camp pretty soon so I reached out to Simmer plus some of my other Simcoe cyclists to see if anyone wished to do a ride from Wasaga to Meaford and back with me. Unfortunately, most weren't able to fit that into their summer calendar but Jay Rothenberg quickly replied, a date was set, and the two of us enjoyed the pleasurable surroundings of western Clearview township on route to a scrumptious lunch at The Leeky Canoe in Meaford before heading back to our new condo for a well-earned beer. 

Jay is such a nice person and has become a great friend! And best of luck to Simmer and the Hustle!

I'm not sure how everyone else handles a new-to-them piece of real estate but we feel strongly about getting a professional in to check the state of our various appliances. In that vein, I reached out to a former player from my GC State days, Jayden Norcross, to come check out and possibly service our furnace/AC. It always feels fantastic to catch-up with former players and at the same time, support them in their adult endeavours. Jayden's company, Greenleaf Mechanical, is co-owned with his dad and he was just what was needed. Plus we were gifted the opportunity to have a catch-up visit!

So proud to see my former players doing so well in life!

On a last note, I'll confess that this one is a bit self-promoting, but since selling our longtime home in Barrie, my Wall of Fame has been stored away in totes until we found ourselves in a situation that permitted putting a boat load of nail holes in the wall. The bedrooms in our new condo are on the smaller side, the extra one in particular, so the WOF is decidedly closer to the eyes than in our old home, striking an impressive presence thanks to the sheer volume. I don't mind admitting that my smile becomes a little brighter and wider when I take in those so familiar faces, partly with pride for a job well done, partly for the tremendous memories that come flooding out of their storage compartments in my brain, but also because so many of those faces have become dear friends. 

I've unabashedly stated that a HUGE part of the decision to teach emanated from the reality that it is one of the few ways to coach and get paid in Canada. My WOF reminds me daily that I made a great decision, and while I had loads of great moments in the classroom, it was the moments on the pitch, court, or pool that are crystal clear. I unequivocally believe that blessings in sport shaped me in ways that classrooms could never match and passionately paying that forward is vital to who I am.

Special Note: To the 12 amazing ladies of my 2011 OFSAA Silver winning Sr Girls' Basketball team, I admit that there's something missing from the WOF that is priority #1 to take care of in the very near future. My humblest apologies that it has taken so long to enshrine that amazing season.

Humph, who'd have guessed I'd have some much to say?

Okay, everyone put their hands down.

A very special crew V2.0

This is a follow up to the post I made recently about the tight-knit group of Central homies that get together at the end of the school year at my buddy Ron's cottage. How blessed am I that I have TWO groups like that in my life? Granted, there's some crossover between the two, but they are significantly different in their nature, the most profound of which is that most of this group were people who taught me way back in the Stone Ages when I was on the other side of the chalkboard.

Pictured here, from left to right, John Kraft, Hardy Wind, Doug Eves, yours truly, Bill Huddleston, Ed Leach and Brian Honey ... all standout educators that have had an influence on me as role models as teachers, coaches, colleagues, and now friends. Not present in that particular night's photo, but regular participants, would be Bruce Rumble, Rick Kalte, Don Lillow, Dave Garland, John Irving, Ron Andrews, and Bob Irwin ... to name just a few. I'm honoured that this cheery, zestful group extended an invitation to join their monthly revelry after I "pushed the button" because their conclave is all about laughter and camaraderie over a shared beverage recounting stories of times shared in the past or issues of the present. I'm a bit of a unicorn, if I do say so, since I attended and then taught at the same high school, and granted, there are a small number of others who have been similarly privileged, but I'm the only one is this group. 

It gives me pause when I count my blessings because I truly enjoy our shared time.

The whole thing started a number of years, as I understand it, before joining their retired ranks. Some of the faces not pictured here have been "out of the game" for 25 years or so. In its essence, that collegial specialness as staff spilled over into retirement and a point was made to commiserate on a bi-weekly basis at McReilly's on Barrie's Dunlop Street. I knew about the gatherings for a while since many of the more mature members were good friends and regaled some of the humorous events of the past, so I was more captivated than a Magpie over the golden lustre the opportunity held. Just like so many things, the pandemic's disruption forced our hand to employ Zoom's assistance while we impatiently waited to meet face to face again, and emerging from our self-imposed isolation, we sought a Covid-friendly solution which landed us on the outdoor patio of Barrie's iconic Queen's Hotel, just down the street from McReilly's.

As I've pointed out in other writings, I'm not aware of another school that cherishes the friendships forged in the trenches like my alma mater, but regardless, it has had a profound impact on me. The wide smiles shared across the rim of our tankards, the belly laughs at the remembrance of a certain person or event, or the commiseration at the sad news of one type or another, all warms the cackles of my heart and never misses the opportunity to turn up the corners of my mouth! 

I'm usually grinning like Carol's Cheshire Cat, if I'm honest. 

With many of the members of our little group steeping across the threshold into full blown Octogenarianism, the inevitability of Life's Circle closing becomes real, and those remaining will seek to invite the newly retired into the fold as a continuation effort so that this unique phenomenon transcends the ravages of time. It's a torch that I take very seriously and willingly.

As the saying goes, "Life ... Nobody gets out alive!" When St Peter calls for me to make the voyage, I will re-join those that I have developed a tremendous admiration for.

#blessed folks, that's what I am!

A very special crew!

I don't think that anyone who has chosen to read my Blog would be surprised that I am very passionate about my Barrie Central experiences, both as a student and a member of staff. As I have explained to many over the years, it is my staunch opinion that Central was a special place thanks largely to the people that poured their souls into helping young people find their way in this world. A sizeable portion of my personal relationships were forged in the fires of ignorance eradication within her walls, relationships that I have actively sought to maintain because of their profound impact on my mental health and my soul.

One of my dearest friends is Ron Andrews, that's no secret to anyone that knows me well, and it is thanks to his boundless generosity that an annual battery-recharge occurs at his cottage in Muskoka on the last day of the school calendar. This recharge is of Olympic proportions and started a number of moons back when the gentlemen involved were all on staff at Central, and other than a pandemic-imposed suspension, has been bolded and highlighted on calendars each and every year. The demographics of the group have slowly morphed thanks to retirement milestones being reached, but the passion for participation has barely waned, evidenced by the twelve 1000-watt smiles sitting on the cottage deck last Wednesday afternoon, as memories were relived, new stories were shared, and playful jabs were launched in the glorious northern Ontario sunshine. Call it Kismet or Karma, the powers that be have always provided a glorious afternoon for our celebrations.

The traditions have altered slightly over the years, but the basic framework is forged in stone; Everyone brings an appetizer, their own libations, and a hunk of BBQ-worthy protein while the host graciously provides some sides to accompany the fruits of the flames. 

We've spread like rings from a pebble tossed in the pond, landing at various other schools or situations since the closing of Central in June 2016, and being brutally honest, other than electronic communications, we rarely share the same air. That doesn't mean that there's even the most remote sense of awkwardness in our annual reunion, a testament to the quality of our friendships, there's nary a misstep as we launch right back into the shits and giggles like no time has passed. 

We have official outfits, highlighter yellow tank-tops complete with front logo and back message, certainly a curious sight to the boat traffic along the lake.

We are loud, our belly laughs reverberating off the cliffs and forests of the lake, signalling the raw emotions of a group of well connected souls.

We consume all manner of libations, the recycling bin overflowing with evidence, loosening our tongues and inhibitions as we playfully poke fun at past and present blunders.

We offer passionate opinions on a wide variety of subjects, some from a source of consternation, some from a feeling of gratitude, others from a place of curiousity. Regardless, opinions flow like the waters of the lake that surrounds us.

Most importantly, we reaffirm our allegiance to the group in a public display of support, a proclamation most dire these days thanks to the disruptions the pandemic has caused to the education system, disruptions that have significantly increased stress levels as parents, students and teachers struggle with massive increases in mental health issues brought on by the anxiety-drenched conditions of the the pandemic.

The festivities proceed well into the night with nary a break in the conversation. When the 24 hours of revelry come to a close, we pile into our vehicles for the sombre trek back to our loved ones, resolute in the knowledge that we made some great choices over our lives, profoundly thankful for the connections we feel to our Central brethren, and grateful for the ability to resuscitate, reaffirm and refresh.

Of course, life sometimes gets in the way, and some of our clan could not join us this year, but they were there in spirit, and were oft spoke of as we recounted the stories of reunions past, or from the BCC staffroom. Absent but not forgotten, as the saying goes. 

Nay-sayers have commented to me since the closing of Central, "Move on!"or "Get over it!", often adding how tired they are of hearing about her glories, but I will always hold tight those reins since they are a powerful part of the engine that drives my soul forward in life. I could no sooner discard that part of my psyche than I could my left arm, lest it leave me profoundly changed.

I love my Central Crew! 

Always have, always will!

And, I can't wait until June 2023!

I've got a new title!

A few weeks back, Doug Woods (BNC VP and longtime friend) came to see me on a day I was supplying at North to ask if I would consent to taking on a new role with the GBSSA Athletic Council's AGM later in the month. Since I retired, one of the many things that I miss are the collegial efforts to ensure students get a quality extracurricular experience since I've long held the opinion that the learning outside of the classroom walls is often more memorable and applicable than within it's walls. Doug wanted me to become GBSSA's "Parliamentarian", a role that he had first come to know when he attended the OFSAA meetings earlier in the year, in hopes that my many moons of sitting around the horseshoe in meetings governed by Robert's Rules of Order would offer some value to the AGM process.

To say I felt honoured does not do the feeling justice.

Just for backstory, way back in the 1999, then OFSAA representative and good friend Terry Olaskey approached me about joining GBSAA Executive Council in the role of VP. He reasoned that my personal sporting experiences combined with my coaching passions would bring insight and assistance to GBSSA. The long and short of it was that I agreed, initiating an almost 2 decade love affair that would see me take on the roles of Vice President, President, Past President, Secretary, and OFSAA Representative before finally stepping aside in June of 2019. From 2006 to 2010 I also served on OFSAA's Executive Council and Championship Review Committee. Just listing it all makes my head spin ... I really did bite off a big chunk.

In case you don't understand what the role of Parliamentarian might look like, it is basically just as I already described above as a person with substantial experience in parliamentary procedure for orderly debate of issues requiring decision. My role would be to serve as a quote-unquote expert in Robert's Rules of Order in the event that a debate arose over an emotionally charged issue with substantial support on either side. If you've never sat in on a formal meeting, Robert's Rules may seem a little foreign, stiff, and overly structured, but having seen them in use on many occasions, I'm of the opinion that they minimize the chance of heated debate descending into a full-blown argument. 

To put it into an analogy more would understand, I'm taking on the role of a meeting referee.

While it felt wonderful to receive the many thanks for my contributions to the successful outcome of the meeting, the most humbling moments were thanks to the heartfelt comments from longtime friends about how great it was to see me again and how healthy I looked in retirement. It certainly rekindled the flame of service that had fuelled my participation for all of those years, and I found myself smiling for quite a piece following the meeting.

My sincerest thanks to Doug Woods for choosing to involve me, thereby permitting such a satisfying experience to occur. Even though I am no longer teaching, it was a great end to the school year.

Taking the plunge

This past week, we took the HUGE leap of faith once again when we closed the deal on our new condo in Wasaga Beach. In case you've missed it, we've been renting a condo in our adopted city of Guelph following the last leap of faith that saw us move communities after 30+ years in Barrie. With so little experience in the housing game, we really don't have a lot to compare it to, but here's the low-down on the week's events!

It began with yet another drive from Guelph to Barrie following what we hoped was the last 4:45 am alarm. I did a supply day at Barrie North then we dashed to the bank to purchase a ridiculous-sized bank draft to take to the lawyer's for the balance of our new condo. Finally sitting in the seat across the desk from our lawyer Doug Hill, we tested our will as we signed our lives away on forms like "No, we're not terrorists", "No, that's not my debt despite the same name", "Yes, our lawyer can do this or that", and all of the legal mumbo-jumbo with transferring the deed of real estate. 

Following the lawyer, we pointed toward the setting sun for our final viewing of the condo prior to Wednesday's final proceedings. Arriving a few minutes early ... as is our habit ... we affirmed our Canadian blood by grabbing a Tim Horton's coffee before heading the the beach for a snack while relishing in the gloriousness of our new adopted community. Although we've visited Wasaga regularly during our marriage thanks to Joyce's love of the sand between her toes, this time felt oddly different since we would soon be "hanging our hat" in this little gem of a community. Our viewing was short 'n sweet and all appeared to be in order, unless you count the clutter of moving a put-off, but we had faith that things would be sorted and clean by the time we got the keys.

I don't mind admitting that the drive back to Guelph felt a little odd. 

We'll call Tuesday launch preparations, what with more packing and a trip to Home Depot to purchase paint and application materials since we knew that we were not a fan of the previous owner's decoration choices. I accept that all goods and services have increased in price thanks to the pandemic, but the sticker shock of nearly $400.00 worth of redecorating tools was still a slap in the face.

June 15th will hold a small place in our marriage lineage as we packed up the RAV to the ceiling and headed for "the Beach" in anticipation of the closing of our little nest-egg. When we met with the lawyer two days prior, we were assured that all was in place and we should receive a call signifying our success around 2:00 pm, so being us, we were waiting at the condo complex by 1:30. When we purchased our first home 31 years previous, it was "old school" for the keys ... you had to retrieve them from the lawyer ... but with improvements in technology (???) we were to retrieve the keys from a lockbox at the site. We waited in the RAV for a while, mildly peeved as 2:00 came, then 2:30, then 3:00, and as we discussed a variety of ownership issues, we finally deciding to unload while we waited. Our new building is a little different since the access to the front door is from an outdoor walkway, and that proved to be the perfect wrinkle as we piled part of our lives outside our door. 

3:30 came and went ... 4:00 too ... our brows were definitely furrowed.

One benefit of sitting atop your possessions in the hallway was meeting our next-door neighbour, a lovely lady named Phyllis. As we got acquainted, we discussed a variety of condo-related topics, and she was able to answer a number of questions that we had about the building and its rules. As the minutes continued to tick by, I'd finally had enough and placed a call to the lawyer's office to find out what had transpired to delay proceedings, but the gruff, "We'll call you soon" response did little to soften my angst. 

At last, the call came through at 4:45, we accessed the lockbox, and opened the door to our future.

Now, I must tell you that when we agreed to the purchase we were well aware that some minor renovations were in order. The swinging door revealed that our faith in our fellow humans was justified as we were greeted by a clutter free visage. After moving our stuff inside, the cleaning process quickly ensued as we readied for the transformation. Neither of us were enthralled by the looming night's rest and a date with our daughter's high-end air mattress, but "beggars can't be choosers" and we were soon making our best attempt. A long while ago in our marriage, we were waterbed lovers, and the air mattress conjured up the less lovable of those deeply recessed memories. Our fitful slumber was interrupted by a piercing shrill at 1:30 am as a first-night fire alarm awoke the building, providing us with a middle of the night Meet 'n Greet thanks to a faulty sensor tripped by the high humidity. Our new place faces east-west so the 5:30 am early morning light shook the slumber out of our eyes as we accepted our renovation fate.

The rest of the week was a whirlwind of patching, priming, trimming, and rolling as holes were repaired, edges were taped, drop clothes were spread and we were elbow deep in the muck of painting. Can you feel my distain? I am fine with doing the deed, love the fruits of the labour, but it's not on my list of likes, that's for sure. As the transformation slowly proceeded, we found ourselves questioning our colour choices, but slowly and surely, the changes solidified into a very pleasing vista. 

Joyce is a trooper!

I had accepted a supply day for the Friday about two months ago, reasoning that the extra income would offset the costs of redecorating, so in my absence on Friday, she forged ahead without me. That day at North featured the re-establishment of the annual Athletic Banquet following its pandemic-imposed absence. I had agreed to take photos of the award winners, and as partial thanks, I was gifted a leftover pizza to spare the stovetop efforts for the night, a treat that Joyce was quite appreciative of after a day bent at the waist or on the knees doing all of the fine detail trimming.

As the fading sun of Saturday slowly sank into the horizon, we were cruising the backroads of Clearview, Dufferin and Wellington counties, back to Guelph one last time (well, as residents anyway, since KP + his GF still live there), pleased with ourselves for the work we put in, and ready for the big move this coming week.

Like Sheryl Crowe famously warbled, "A change will do you good!"

Big moments and Butter Tarts

Whew! What a week! Almost more than my retired hind end can handle ... almost!

The week started off retirement-ly with a couple of us-days as we readied ourselves for the looming change of moving with de-cluttering, downsizing, debating what goes + what goes out, boxing up our lives, and the occasional recreational walk or ride. There have been weeks where I was willing to take on supply work but the notifications of potential jobs were eerily silent, but as it always happens when you mentally block off a part, my phone was screaming like a Banshee with offers aplenty. I realized on a lovely ride around my adopted city that my rides there were numbered and that left me feeling a little sad.

We were eager for the dawning of Wednesday with the Sr Boys' Rugby GBSSA game scheduled at North CI that afternoon, partly because it's rugby and who doesn't love that, but mostly because my buddies Mike Alcombrack, Adam Claus, Burke Erwin, and Alex Griffin were chomping at the bit to cap off a brilliant season of development and growth with a championship. I had the RAV packed, the camera charged, and my eagerness barely in check as we pointed northeast for the commute ... again ... back to Barrie. I'm stoked to report that while most definitely a nail-biter thanks to some inspired play on behalf of dreaded rival Innisdale, my adopted Vikings pulled out a literal last second win when the scrum half hit the penalty kick with no time left on the referee's clock to win 13-12. Although in my very biased opinion, North could have had the game won multiple times thanks to a nasty case of the "dropsies", the huge crowd of rugby fans definitely got their money's worth with an Uber-exciting game! When I sat down that night to edit the photos I took, I was surprised to see I had over 700 shots to choose from, albeit a host of which were the celebratory variety as the kids strutted their stuff lofting the GBSSA plaque and SCAA banner. 

Wednesday was topped of with another heart-warmer as a few of the retired old farts, myself included, met at the Queen's Hotel patio for a bevy and a chat. This is something that has been happening regularly for years prior to my own retirement, but went digital during the pandemic. While the newness of Zoom was exciting, I have to say that getting back to the face to face sharing of a "meal" is really what charges our human batteries. If you're reading this, and you're a retired Central teacher, feel free to join us to commiserate on the first Wednesday of each month.

Thursday was the first of 3 supply days with HPE + Geo for a friend at North. I had done a couple of days earlier in the semester already so I felt a small pang of familiarity with the kids, and I'm happy to pass on that the day was a pleasurable experience. Although the day started out wet, the clearing skies created a cloudless glorious afternoon for the walk down to the waterfront to my mother's condo since Joyce was working with her "adopted" little ones and had the car. 

Friday's spectacular dawn, complete with a colour show that would shame a peacock, signalled that the day could be a cracker weather-wise, bringing a wide grin to my face both because I could get the kids outside to break up the monotony of a June Friday and that my Aunt Merle's Celebration of Life was scheduled for the midday. The morning's HPE class was an entertaining affair as 3 of us organized a "Fun Friday" on the field that prompted 80+ student's giggles and laughter. When the lunch bell rang, I dashed over to Union Cemetery for Merle's internment, and was supremely grateful for the opportunity to reconnect with my extended family. The celebration was gratifying because, as I wrote in this post (CLICK), my childhood was spent in the company of my cousins and holds great significance to me. Merle was cremated meaning that we could honour her wishes of a small vial of her being put into my father's niche, per her wishes, thanks to the love she felt from his support over their lives. To have my father's niche open, with his burial urn in full view, I held a couple of sobs in check as I remembered them both fondly. With Covid almost in the rearview mirror, my cousins and I (+ our now adult children) vowed that we would arrange a time this summer to rekindle our former close ties. A win-win for me, if I'm honest.

The coup de grace for Friday was the news that North's Girls' Rugby brilliantly played the David role by slaying the Goliath that was the previously unbeaten Nantry side to win the GBSSA title 7-5 and making it a two-fer for the Vikings. Although working prevented me from capturing the moments with my Nikon because the game was an early start down in Alcona, I was none the less stoked to receive the text sharing the great news! 

Saturday's early rising was thanks to my plans to share the BT~175km with a bunch of like-minded acquaintances as we peddled our way around the Simcoe Country Rail Trail, a 160km route that circumvents the northern portions of Simcoe using the old CPR lines. Much of the trail is crushed gravel, but there are portions in the northern-most part that are paved, and others that are packed earth resulting in the occasional mud bath as spray from the tires spares no one. The BT part stands for Butter Tart, a Kryptonite of many a cyclist, with one of our waypoints that day being the annual Midland Butter Tart festival. One of the group lives in Perkensfield and his adorable wife met us at Farm2Door, a quaint little shop and Butter Tart stop, with water-refills and watermelon, the perfect companion to the megalodonic tarts offered there. 

Even though I consider myself as more than a casual cyclist, riding "the Loop" is a daunting task that proves a challenge each time I attempt it. My kilomterage of late buoyed my abilities and I felt pretty capable throughout, so much so that I chose to top off the 160km with a ride to Angus to meet Joyce who had spent the day with our daughter. Since my Garmin's battery died near the DeCast plant on the 30th sideroad, the total kilometres were a guess, but I'm confident that ~175 is close. The afternoon's rain showers meant that I had brought some of the trail out to Maddi's with me, her garden hose handling the muck admirably. 

The pink tees proudly displayed here ... although I do much better behind the camera since you can barely see me holding my trusty steed aloft in the background ... are thanks to the fundraising prowess of Cycle Simcoe and available to anyone who requests one after completing the Rail Trail.

As I sit in front of my laptop on a wet Sunday morning, recounting the week's events and planning for the coming week's excitement as we take possession of our new-to-us condo on Wednesday, I have to admit that despite the jammed calendar, this past week was filled with smile-worthy moments that left my heart full of happiness and joy. 

As the Tragically Hip once crooned, "wait and see what tomorrow brings!"

All it takes is $$$

Blyth, ON, is an idyllic, quaint little village about 85 km northwest of Waterloo, 100 km north of London, or 130 km southwest of Owen Sound, depending on which Ontario landmark makes the most sense to you. I would tell you that it's only 20 east of Goderich, but that's likely only a place you've heard of, and not somewhere you'd know. According to Wikipedia, "Blyth is a village in North Huron, Huron County, Ontario, Canada, at the intersection of Huron County Road 4 and Huron County Road 25. Blyth is also 24 km inland from Lake Huron. Despite its small size (pop ~ 1000), Blyth has a significant national presence. The village attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors annually to its world-renowned theatre, destination craft brewery and large municipal campground. As well, Blyth has several prominent employers creating job opportunities not found in many rural regions of Canada."

First settled in 1851, Blyth was not known by that moniker until the good ol' Canada Post's blunder in 1856 when it named the village after the British land surveyor Henry Blyth, for a reason I could not uncover, but it was "put on the map" by the establishment of a CPR stop on the line from Goderich to Guelph. Incorporated in 1877, Blyth is a rural Canadian success story. "The village has been recognized as a model for Canadian rural communities who incorporate arts and culture to diversify community economy to move beyond solely an agriculture-based model." or so says Wikipedia.

Why tell you all of this about a place prototypically rural?

It's that wee tidbit about the CPR rail line that led to my introduction to Blyth, when I recently visited this sleepy little hamlet at the behest of my friend Dave Byers, for a midday retirement lunch at the Cowbell Brewing Company, the classically styled but modernly outfitted microbrewery that is one of midwest Ontario's hidden little gems.

Dave and I are cyclists and that day was our discovery of the G2G ... the Guelph to Goderich Trail.

As cyclists, we choose to ride our bikes really, really far to justify eating delicious foods and drinking well crafted beers, and microbreweries are some of the finest places to do just that. According to Dave, a relative cornucopia of knowledge, Cowbell Brewery exists thanks to the business acumen of Grant Sparlings who founded Sparlings Propane back in 1951 and grew the value into a multi-million dollar venture. As Dave tells it, on his passing, old man Sparlings bequeathed what is believed to be 20 million to his grandchildren with the only stipulation being that they had to create a business in Blyth. Obviously blessed with vision, the result of that challenge is Cowbell Brewery, a microbrewery, a restaurant, a community partner, and a thriving business. I cannot do the building justice with photos, so simply didn't try. Even the photo-map above is a mishmash of a couple of poorly executed iPhone photos in an attempt to give you an idea of the treasures the building holds.

Since we had just hopped off the bikes after a 56 km ride from our starting locale of Millbank, a hamlet in the heart of Mennonite Country, we opted for an outdoor table on the side patio in hopes that the subtle zephyr would carry away the muskiness of our efforts, and keeping all things Covid in mind, it was the perfect choice. The fare of the day turned out to be a sharing of tacos and pizza, topped with a sample of Cowbell's finest efforts. The tacos came with beautifully seasoned shredded chicken, fresh toppings and a wonderful aioli, with my half standing absolutely no chance against the hunger the morning's ride had developed. The pizza was a simple pepperoni masterpiece on a handmade crust with a hint of a basil and oregano, lathered in a delicious marinara that perfectly complimented the generous sized chunks (not slices) of pepperoni. 

The only negative of the entire day came on the ride back when the forecasted rains made a fierce, albeit short, appearance tilting trees, drenching us to the skin, and making the trail ride an adventurous undertaking as visibility was cut to a few metres. As quickly as it arrived, it left, and the rest of the trek was as pleasant as you'd like.

The brilliance was capped by a return visit to Millbank's famous AnnaMae's Bakery for an encore of handmade apple fritters (round one was a couple of weeks ago on another ride with Dave) so sugary sweet, the risk of an instant cavity was profoundly real. I even became the dinner hero when I spied a freezer with turkey pot pie beside a shepherd's pie ... both made the trip back to Guelph ... landing me a loving hug and a peck on the cheek from my bestie. It was a small price to pay for stranding her in the condo for the day while I rode through some of Ontario's finest sights.

As my friend Kevin Simms, the guy who got me into cycling, once told me, "We ride so much so that our wives won't have to wipe our bums when we're 80!" Yes Kevin, cycling is about the tremendous health benefits, but it's also about the friendships made and enhanced through the shared efforts of a 112 km ride on a quiet Monday of retirement. 

Oh, and it's also about beers, sweets, and adventures.

Just sayin'!