Olympics, come and gone

Well, it’s all over. Years and years of planning, all leading up to the last 17 days which have just come and gone.

Monday, March 1st felt a bit like the hung-over morning after a one night stand. On the one hand, the city had a glow about it that won’t soon fade. On the other hand, it’s kinda like the world arrived, romanced us, then used up the city and ran out before the sun came up. I had to arrive early to work that morning; my final shift in the BC International Media Centre where I spent 24 of the 28 days in February.

The revellers from the Men's Gold medal hockey game had moved on by the time I got to work; even those that managed to parlay Canada’s Storybook overtime goal celebrations into post-closing ceremonies shenanigans had at least found an alley way or door enclosure to pass out in at that point.


But the litter on the street on Monday will not be a lasting memory from the past month.

The images I will take with me are of a nation cheering in the streets and at Olympic venues, unabashed in its love for itself and pride for its athletes.
I will remember being up close to our athletes mere hours after their wins, as they would look down at the medal around their neck, the pride of victory on their face.






I will remember the hoots and hollers of tourists as they flew across Robson Square on a Zip Line ride that they waited six hours in line to get on, and all the families that came down to Robson Square to partake in all sorts of activities.





I will remember the national anthem, ringing out in the streets in impromtu chorus day after day.

I will remember trading pins with media from around the world, little old ladies I met on the street, colleagues, and excited kids.

I will remember a city that did not sleep for more than two weeks.
I will remember gathering with friends--hockey fans and non-hockey fans--to watch the big games.




I will remember cherry blossoms showing themselves to the world in the middle of a Canadian “winter”, where sunny skies and moonrises over the downtown core took place everynight for the better part of a week--no small feat in Rainy Vancouver.

I will remember feeling so fortunate to have been live and in the flesh when our athletes achieved their goals and had the best days of their lives.





and everyone will remember Joannie Rochette, who achieved one of the biggest goals of her life amidst some of the worst days of her life. And Kate can say she was there to see it happen.



I will remember politicians proudly donning our maple leaf rather than the usual suits; a nice change of pace if you ask me.



And Lastly,I take with me the sense that, as john Furlong noted in his speech at the closing ceremonies, perhaps now the world knows who we are as Canadians. I hope that vancouverites keep with them the lesson that it is in fact okay to say ‘hi’ to strangers on the street, as they have been dong for the last few weeks. It has been awfully nice for the city to lose any pretention it had before!

I hope that as the Paralympics comes through town in two weeks from now, we can show the world that we can do all of this not once, but twice, and that our spirit as Canadians will endure to the world even beyond that. GO CANADA!




oh, and n case you missed it, here's a whole bunch more photos in high speed ;)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-KAPio1Prk

Happy Blogiversary to me!

Six years ago this week, I waded into the world of social media. Life outside in the real world was very different for me then. I was living in a city that I disliked immensely (sorry Edmonton), during a season which I always dislike immensely (sorry winter), working at a job that I disliked immensely (sorry EPCOR), and to boot I was taking night courses at a community college which—you guessed it—I disliked immensely (sorry Grant MacEwan).

I think when I first started blogging, it was a creative outlet to distract me from other “stuff” that was going on. Six years later, my operation has grown slightly more sophisticated...but only slightly. My first-ever blog post was short and sweet, and a was a clear testament to my complete lack of technical know-how, and up to the most recent, my computer savvy has only barely advanced.

technically, I can hardly call myself a blogger. I've only produced 139 posts in six years. A drop in the bucket compared to those who update daily.

Despite this, people “read me” anyways, and hey, I just wanted to stop in this month and say “thanks”. In a world that has more social media applications and ways to share stories every month nowadays... Facebook, Twitter, Digg, MySpace, RSS feeds channelling news every which way... well, it’s more than easy to go somewhere else. It’s estimated that there are somewhere in the neighbourhood of more that 300 million blogs out there, and then some. Closer to 400 million now, I’m sure.
Which makes my blog tant amount to the speck of dust that clings to the speck of dust that clings to a slightly larger speck of dust. I’ve never been aggressive about trying to add readers to my blog, but some growth has happened anyway.

Over the last six years, I’ve had about 11,500 people stop by the blog, with about 19,000 page views. I can’t track the readers that check my post as it appears on my Facebook RSS feed, so I can factor in a few more hits from there, I suppose. I don’t imagine it’s anything to write home about. In any case, by no means do I produce these numbers as bragging rights, as not all of those hits are unique visitors. Most are folks like you who’ve come back time and time again to check in with StuLand once a month or so.

And thanks for doing it.

Writing makes me happy, and from what I get in feedback, my writing makes some of you happy, too, which again, makes me happy. Even if no one read my musings, I know I’d still be doing this stuff because it’s what I love to do, and I guess that’s why six years later, I’m still blogging.

Life is totally different now, of course, from what it was “back then”. Different city, career well underway, married, kid avec one on the way, house, dog, etc. So that must mean that I’m not really writing this blog because I need someone to “pay attention to me, dammit”, but just because it’s what I like to do.

It’s a good place to be. So, here’s to six more years and beyond!

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Fast Facts about Stuland usage (yes, I’ve been spying on you):

• Canadians account for 65 per cent of my readership. “unknown” comes second
with a 17 per cent share, followed by the good ol’ USA and the UK after
that.

• The average reader stays on my blog for about six and a half minutes. That’s
pretty good considering how fast people jump off most web pages.

• I get about 15 hits a month from people who are 11,000 kilometres or further
away from me.

• For the nearly two hundred hits I get in an average month, Only 1-3 people
will leave comments ON my blog, with a further 18-20 sending comments to my
email inbox. The rest of you are just voyeurs I guess! Don’t be afraid to
stop in and say hi!

• Telus internet account holders make up about a quarter of the readers.

• 95 per cent of the readership uses English as a first language. Coming in
second... Russian, at three per cent. Me thinks we can safely call these
people internet spammers who are not on my blog for its fine content ;)

Marion Lay, Torchbearer

Early on February 6th, 2010 on a quiet stretch of road in the community of Pemberton, B.C., just as the day brushes the last few flecks of night off of it's shoulders,it may be raining, or snowing, or cold and clear. But one things is for sure: There will be a flame.

That flame, just six days and two hundred-ish kilometers to the South, will be touched to the Olympic cauldron, officially opening the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympic Games. But before it gets there, for a few moments in Pemberton as that daylight takes hold, over a distance of 300 meters, that flame will be held in the hands of a woman by the name of Marion Lay.

This otherwise quiet, secluded stretch of road will be transformed and take on new significance, if only for moments; paved over anew by the footsteps of a woman with an olympic-sized legacy all her own.

Marion was born in and has lived most of her life in Vancouver, and she now lives part-time in Whistler, which alone makes her an ideal torch bearer given the host cities for the upcoming Winter Olympic Games. But it goes, well, well beyond that.

At an early age, Marion was drawn to the water. She grew up poor, but gained a wealth of experience through sport. Despite training in the U.S, Marion was always, and is, a proud Canadian. She swam for Canada in the '64 and '68 Olympics, at the ages of 14 and 18 respectively. Got a bronze medal, too, as part of Canada's relay team in those 1968 games in Mexico. She also picked up a gold medal at the Commonwealth Games. She's got a world record to her name as well.

Marion's interests lay not only in the competition in the pool, but also in the competition for gender equality in sport. She is a founder of the Canadian Association for the Advancement of Women and Sport and Physical Activity(CAAWS) where her legacy remains felt years after her foundation in the form of the Marion Lay Herstorical Award, which honours the long-term positive influence of an individual, group or organization whose contributions have directly affected, improved or positively influenced girls and women in sport and physical activity.

The list of awards Marion has been presented with is endless, from B.C. Sports Hall and Canadian Swimming Hall of Fame honours, right up to the International Olympic Committee's Trophy for the Americas, which she received in 2001 for her dedication to the advancement of women in sport.

She's been involved in sport at every level. As an athlete, a coach, an administrator, as mentor, as visionary. And it's not just with swimming, nor Olympic competition. For example, a guy the rest of us all know and refer to (and revere) as Rick Hansen? Marion knows him simply as 'Rick'. She headed up operations for part of the 1985-1987 world tour. Ever heard of Pacific Sport Canadian Sport Centre Vancouver? One of the first established places that elite athletes could utilize to train on the West coast as they aim to own the podium, and yep, Marion helped found that, too. Heard of LegaciesNow? the organization set up to ensure that sport, art, and culture legacies would be of benefit to all British Columbians, and not just the host cities of the Olympics? Marion is the past President.

But perhaps most important to this particular story about this years' Winter Olympics: Marion Lay has been part of the Vancouver 2010 bid from its earliest stages.

It's not necessarily well know, but when the 1988 Winter Olympics in Calgary were ending, the road to Vancouver 2010 was already beginning. And Marion was there. Marion shared the dream early on that Vancouver would someday host the Games, and eventually, the 2010 Bid Corporation was born. She was even the Chair for a time. In 2002, she was elected to represent the City of Vancouver as a member of the Board of Directors for the Vancouver Organizing Committee for the 2010 Olympic and Paralympic Winter Games.

So where am I going with this?

Without Marion, On February 6th of 2010, that little stretch of road continue to be as it is. The sun would rise, cars would go by; maybe a cyclist here and there, and the sun would set. Just as it would be for all the near-45,000 km of Canadian Highway before it, where for months and miles torch bearers have carried the Olympic Torch, and felt it's inspirational power, and laughed and cried and celebrated, and drawn communities together to witness the spectacle...

Without Marion, it would all just be the same old road.

The torch doesn't have to be on its way to Vancouver right now. That torch could just as easily be in some other corner of the world that outbid Vancouver for the games.

But WITH Marion, and because of those like her, we.got.the.games.

So, on Feb. 6th, 2010 that little piece of road in Pemberton will take on a new life.

I could not be prouder or more thrilled as a Canadian, as a citizen of a host Olympic city, or as a human being who believes in the power and spirit of sport-- but most importantly as a family member of Marion Lay's--to say that I will be there to cheer her on.

Hold that torch high Marion. You earned every step, and I can't wait to be there to watch you take them.

An anniversary of sorts

On Dec. 16, 1999 I cut off my fingers in a sawmill accident. Ten years ago today.

I remember the event well; the weather, the environs, the people around me. One of those people was my brother Jamie, who was working on the same machine as me, stacking the wood that I was cutting on the chop saw. I remember the ice pack duct taped to my hand, being on the edge of vomiting, the hurried ride to the Kamloops hospital. I remember the air ambulance to Vancouver. I remember waking up from surgery after 22 hours under the knife, I remember realizing I would not be in Maui for Christmas, as was then the plan.

I remember Jamie, days later, in the Vancouver General Hospital Burns and Plastics unit, closer to Christmas. Laying hands on me, he asked God for help with the re-attached digits that I lost from my left hand. I remember Jamie asking a God who has shown he can move mountains, that perhaps he could help these little fingers see life again. Jamie was the last to leave the hospital room that evening.
I remember crying to myself after he left, hoping for the same.

On Dec. 28th, 1999 the now-dead fingers were removed again.

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Ten years later, I often think—but never wonder—about that bedside prayer.
The accident was—as I see it—a catalyst to becoming a closer immediate family that we still have today. Lots of hugs and kisses of greeting, lots of sharing what’s on our mind, lots more ‘I love you’. We were close, mind you, but we were not “that kind of family” before that point. And that kind of closeness has helped us through other family tragedies of much greater consequence in more recent years. Thank goodness for building blocks.

Without the accident, I never would have interacted with the Workers’ Compensation Board. FYI: it was as positive an experience as an injured worker could hope to have. More importantly, it led to my first “real” job, in the WCB communications department. This was the opposite side of the fence that I thought my career was going to be running along, as at the time of my accident I was enrolled in Journalism school. Ten years later, I’m still happy to be in PR rather than journalism. The current economic climate means that as news rooms and media conglomerates close down and file for bankruptcy protection, I’m in a field with more jobs than ever as governments and companies scramble for good communications in a bad news environment. Would I have been here if I hadn’t gotten into that accident? Maybe, but who knows. Doesn’t matter, because I got a kick start. Nothing wrong with that, I say.

We have a family friend who chopped off a few digits around the same time as me. His fingers were successfully reattached. He struggled / struggles with remaining sensitivity and mobility issues that I never had to deal with, simply for the fact that I did not have the reattached digits to rehabilitate. I got to work on healing and moving on.

Without the accident, I’d be without the best built-in physical comedy prop... aside from my big ears and clumsiness... that I could ever ask for (reference here: finger stump-up-nose-sight gag). It has entertained children, as it will mine someday, once they figure out that “daddy has a funny hand”. And that sort of gag has led to questions about physical difference and disability from many that ultimately brings people to a little bit of understanding and a broadened horizon or two. Nothing wrong with that either, I say.

So here I am. I can’t take back a moment in a sawmill from ten years ago but these days, I can see I don’t need to.

As for what happened with that bedside prayer a decade ago? My digits ended up in a hospital incinerator, so no, I don’t think they were particularly blessed.

But it feels like maybe, just maybe, the rest of me, was.

I don't talk about pee enough on my blog. so...

Here we are!

Actually, this is an entry into a contest at parentingbynature.com and eco baby steps, where I wouldn't mind being their guest blogger for a few months.



That's the prize if I'm selected! that's right, I'm a dad, and I wanna talk about being a parent! so please: read my post, leave a comment or start a discussion and vote for me if I'm shortlisted! I'll let you know! Now, without further adieu... let's talk diapers!

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All of you who’ve been in this situation before with your child’s cloth diapers, please raise your hands: you’re enjoying some quality time with your wee one, sitting on the couch with your tot on your lap.

And then it happens.

Maybe the acidic smell reaches your nose first. Or perhaps the wetness seeping through on to your legs is your first indication. Any way you slice it, you know it’s happened. Your wee one has done... precisely that. Through their diaper, through their own clothes, and on to you.

Oh, the glamours of parenthood.

My wife and I are staunch defenders of the cloth / natural diaper use, but it took us a while to hit on a product that worked well for us. And the language can be a little intimidating at first. Diaper covers? Wha? Pre-folds? Hey, sounds easy! FuzziBuns? Hey, sounds cute! BumGenius? Hey, these will make my kid smarter! Hemp diapers? Hey, sounds groovy man!Monkey doodlz? Hilarious! Seventh generation disposables? Diaper inserts? Aaaand I could go on...

My wife and I were actually planning to use disposable diapers for a few weeks when our son was a newborn, but he showed up three weeks before his scheduled arrival time and at that point, we had only purchased the cloth diapers that we ultimately planned to use. And so it was from the start: our little man’s bottom was swaddled in natural fibres, and we never looked back.

Parents climbing into the green diapering arena ought to do their research, as—noted above—there’s plenty to choose from. The point of most all of them are the same: sustainability. In a population increasingly concerned with its environment, it makes sense to go green. And let’s not kid ourselves: all those cloth diapers add a little extra to baby’s profile, and it makes their little bums just that much cuter as they crawl and waddle around the house.

You just can’t find that in the slim fit of a planet-poisoning disposable!

In searching for the right fit of diaper, we definitely got peed on more than once. Into every life, a little rain must fall. Let this puddle on the floor (or on your leg) not weaken your resolve! Long story short for us has been to realize there is no magic bullet when it comes to buffering baby’s bottom. And the older our little guy gets, the bigger his bladder gets and... well, you get the point. We now live with a combination of different types of cloth diapers that we’re pretty happy with, but yes, shopping around was required. But it’s all been worth it, and it will continue to be so, even if we have to get into another search.

Why?

Well, could we have said ‘nuts to this’ and run for the ‘Pampers’ ultra-dry jumbo pack? Yes, of course. But ultimately, we have to look beyond ourselves and consider the future of our little guy—and any siblings that may follow him—and realize that we can’t bankrupt the future health of his planet for our convenience in the present. Cloth diapers are better for your wee one—chemical free and soft on baby’s skin being but two obvious reasons—and if treated right, they’ll last long enough for use with any other kids that might come along. Buying up a stock of cloth diapers may seem like an investment at first, but once you’ve got ‘em, you’ve got ‘em. Once they’re done with, cut ‘em up and use them as rags! And, if you do have more than one tot, the fact that your kids could share diapers is an added cost-saving benefit. The ‘shared diaper’ point could also prove handy when they’re older, fighting about something and you need to prove to them just how similar they actually are... but I digress...

So take heart if you’re early on in the game and still trying to find the right fit with your cloth diapers. It WILL happen! Just look at that pee stain on your leg, and see it as a badge of honour. You are a crusader on a search for a greener world, after all. Get up, change your pants (and your baby’s) and get back to it. You can do this!