Dear Heidi Chase...

First of all, welcome to all four and a half pounds of you. You may seem small, but already, you seem bigger than life. Your arrival is something we have been looking forward to, this goes without saying. You are the reality of something we have, until today, only dreamed about.

But it sure was a surprise that you showed up when you did.

Congratulations. You upstaged your brother. At 9:30 in the morning on April 14th 2010, you arrived. In a state of hurried panic on the part of your parents, you arrived even when we were saying aloud to ourselves that ‘now is not your time.’ You had other ideas, and indeed, there was no stopping your entrance. What’s more, you showed up in a hospital, which was not the plan. You were supposed to be born comfortably at home eight weeks from now. But, what should we expect. It was your brother’s plan to be born at a hospital, but he was born at home, early. So, go figure; we respect your right for independent thought and action.

Gestationally speaking, let it be know that you decided it was showtime at 32 weeks. This, for the record, is more than just a tad early. Your brother Sacha…he was a ‘tad’ early at 37 weeks. You, our adorable little beauty with your velvety soft skin and crop of dark hair, are ‘way’ early. But, as an Aries—a Ram, no less—it would seem that you needed to have it your way.

The prospects of what your astrological sign may make you both thrills and horrifies. Gung-ho and enthusiastic; fearless as the gods (yahoo!), but an ego and lack of pragmatism to boot (uh-oh).

But the better parts of your sign make you an ideal candidate for what you’re dealing with right now.

Your tiny cries haven’t been heard by many ears yet, nor will they for a few weeks perhaps, until you’re allowed to come out of the hospital. We’ve got to get you up to speed on a few things you weren’t prepared for, like how those lungs work, and how to eat food. You’ve got a few tubes in you at the moment, but don’t worry about those. You’ve got the grit to take care of that situation.

By being born under Aries, being courageous and forceful, you will forge your way ahead in this. With this new endeavor called ‘life’ undertaken, you’ve got the goods to make it through a tough few days and you’ll come out shining.

Now, this may sound like we’re hinting at something very dire, but it’s really not that bad. You just need a kick start, and then you’ll be fine. You're in great shape, especially compared to some of your roommates. Always count your blessings, little Heidi, remeber that. Really, we as your parents just don’t want to see you connected to monitors, and we want to hold you. Soon enough. And then you’ll start discovering what this life is all about.

As we told Sacha when he was born, this is a great world to be a part of. People care, most of the time, and don’t be afraid to let them in to raise you up when you need the help, just like your doctors and nurses are doing for you now.

Life can be like that, you know. Just when you think things are awful and frightening, you get surrounded and carried to a better place. May you know the comfort of rescue when it’s needed and it comes, and may you know the feeling that comes from being some else’s rescuer, too.

And while we’re on the subject of rescue, maybe we can just ask you to make sure you do some good in this world. On little scales, on big scales, whatever. Just do things that make you happy and proud of yourself. Oh, but the same comment applies to you as what we told Sacha on the day he arrived: if you want to be a champion at something, make sure it pays well, so that you can fund our retirement for us.

Lets talk about your names for a second. Heidi: there is no significance; it’s just a great name and we know you'll wear it well. Ballem, on the other hand, is more significant. It is your mother’s maiden name. It comes from your Grandy’s side of the family. If it brings to you what it has to others who carry the name, then we can be fairly sure you’ll be brilliant, charming and attractive. Which reminds your father… he’s going to go out and buy a new Louisville Slugger right now, for use in scaring off potential suitors when you get to your teenage years…

So anyway, it’s hard to say where to go with all of this. Need it be said aloud, your arrival today was about as big a surprise as we could’ve imagined. There is joy at your arrival mixed with a melancholy for not yet being able to hold you and seeing you hooked up to machines. The day was melancholic to begin with, which you might later understand: April 14th is the day your Granddad lost his battle to cancer, three years before you were born, so the fact that you chose to show up on just this date…well, lets just say there is a whole ‘nother circle of life conversation that could be had over this whole affair.

But we don’t need to focus on the death side of things today, now that we have your new life. Your joyful life, just begun and soon to flourish. And we can’t wait to watch it happen before our eyes. Early as your arrival may have been, we are so glad you’re here.

Love always,
Your parents

A trip to the dump

Over the Easter weekend, Kate, Sacha and I headed on up to Kamloops to spend time at mum’s house. The usual visitations took place, Church on Sunday and a big family visit were in the mix as well. Also, mum asked me if I would be willing to make a ‘dump run’ for her.

One of Kamloops’ dumps is conveniently located quite nearby to the house, so, with an uninsured trailer it’s not a problem to fill up a load and transport your garbage without getting pulled over for your use of a fall-apart trailer with non-functioning taillights and an out-of-date license plate.

This particular weekend, mum asked if I would go into the backyard and empty out the root cellar space that’s under our mudroom. Translation: get rid of a bunch of crap that dad had stored under there for years for no reason.

The task was a trip down memory lane, both for the stuff that was revealed and because of the fact that the guy who put most of the junk there--my dad--has been gone for three years now, coming up almost to the day.

This photo shows a pile of miscellany, no doubt about it. But it's also a patchwork quilt of family history.


The door used to serve as the exit into our backyard; it was scratched to bits by successive generations of impatient family dogs. Why dad kept it is somewhat of a mystery, but my brother now plans to use the windowed portion of the door to create a mirrored wall hanging.

The yellow buoy came out of Shumway Lake, the location of my many years of sprint kayak training sessions and race weekends. It was adopted into our home (who knows why in the first place), and quickly became a giant dog toy for the then-family pooch, Rump. Rump would grab the thick rope that was attached to it and swing it around in circles like a hammer toss. Hilarious to witness, I assure you.

The swing—homemade, with chains that would pinch your hands if you weren’t careful—used to be attached to a lower limb of one of our two tall pine trees in the backyard. Luckily, childhood disappeared before the trees succumbed to an early death, thanks to Pine Beetle infestation. To have been a kid and witnessed not only the loss of your favourite climbing tree, but also the swing attached to it, would’ve been nothing short of devastating. I could go on about the tree as I think about it; climbing to the top of its great heights in swaying winds. That was a time before my fear of heights kicked in and a time before a parent would be criticized for letting their little kids climb 80 feet into the air, untethered and unsupervised.

The GT snowracer. The property of my brother and sister; a joint purchase that I said I wasn’t interested in. Truth be told, I was perhaps foolish to pass up the investment and I may or may not have had pangs of regret as I watched them scoot down snow covered hills with such speed and control.
Jamie made sure to remind me at every opportune moment that I was not party to ownership of said sled, and thus best keep my hands off of it, which I did with surprising restraint given the impetuous nature of my age at that time.

The big white thing: a rooftop car carrier. This carrier sat atop our Chevy Lumina van for innumerable Chase family trips; the car packed with three kids, two parents, some luggage and often one family dog, and the rooftop carrier took all the rest. It's last trip was to attach it to Kate's Toyota Echo, however. The tiny car had in it: me, Kate, My sister, and Matt, her now-fiance-then-boyfriend, and nellie the dog. The Eggshell, as the carrier was known, was strapped on the roof. Tiny car, huge carrier, ridiculous image. We were using the Duffy lake road to access Whistler, from Kamloops. a few too many switchback corners at speed, and we all heard it: "pop pop pop pop woooosh" as all four straps gave up on their vain attempts to cling to the Echo's roofrack, and the carrier shot off the side of the car. Thankfully, it came to rest in a ditch, rather than the raging river we had just crossed over. small blessings. the carrier was retired permanently after that weekend, but not thrown out until now.

And the last item in the photo: a testament to the scavenger who was my father. This red and white striped tarp is actually an awning from a KFC store. Undoubtedly, when one of his stores was under a renovation phase, he probably asked “what’s going to happen with that awning tarp?” and when someone said it was going to be tossed out, he said “you’re kidding?! Well, I’ll take it off your hands”… and it was promptly folded up and stored under the house, never to be used. A heavy duty, quality tarp is indeed what it is. Could be used for all sorts of things, and now that it has been revealed, maybe it will be.

Not pictured here are a myriad of other items one might wonder why anyone would keep, but dad did anyway:

• Two saw horses, so rickety and broken down you wouldn’t dare use them for fear of serious bodily harm while operating a saw as they collapsed underneath your project being held up by them at the time.

• A collection of metal poles used to hoist our old canvas tent trailer into position. The tent trailer is long gone, I can’t imagine why the poles would not have gone with it.

• My old basketball rim, once attached to the roof of the garage; I booked a lot of hours out front of the house, practicing to be a high school basketball star (editors note: Stu was NEVER, even remotely, a high school basketball star). it was so bent and broken where it used to attach to the garage that one would have to do some welding to get it back into shape. I had no idea that it had been saved, and as much fun as it was to reveal it, it was added to the scrap metal pile for delivery to the dump.

So, with the trailer all loaded up with “stuff”, I hitched it to mum’s car and retraced the path of one of dad’s favourite weekend activities: a drive to the dump.

The recycling section of the dump has been closed recently; some woman tripped, split her face open and sued the city, so they can’t have a “used” section any more. One of dad’s favourite things to do at the dump—whether in the used section or straight out of the trash heap—was to rummage for stuff to bring home after he’d dropped off his own crap. I can’t say for sure, but he probably bought home more than he took on more than one occasion. I sure do miss that…but at least the root cellar is finally cleared out.

April 14th marks the third anniversary of the passing of Jim Chase. We miss you dad.

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!

-----------------------
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.