What Lies Beyond 30?!

Last night, I said goodbye to the final day of my twenties in fine style, and as a result I ushered in a new era of thirtyness this morning feeling every bit my age. I have no one to blame but myself. My whole body aches—my knees especially from all that jumping around-- I’m tired, I have a headache...

Yeah, it was a late one last night. Got right into it with the boys. Got served a few, killed a few, blocked a few.

Blocked a few?

No, I wasn’t drinking away my twenties last night, I was on the volleyball court.

30 years old is going around like a flu bug in my circles; my peer group are all just “of that age” now. As one with a birthday somewhat late in the year, I’ve had the chance to sit back and observe as others cross this threshold before me. To the people who have been a bit freaked out about it, I have to ask:

why?

People say they lament the loss of their 20’s.

Huh?

Do you want to go back to massive student debts and eating kraft dinner three nights a week? Do you want to go back to moving from basement suite to basement suite? Are you so attached to your ‘Bar Star’ status?

And then there are people like Matthew McConaughey’s character in ‘Dazed and Confused’, who said "...the great thing about high school girls is that I keep getting older, but they just stay the same age..." CREEPY, yes, and I also think reflective of someone who might be afraid of the future or doesn’t feel like they’ve accomplished enough of what they wanted to and is running out of time. Thus, they’d prefer to stay in the past.


I feel nothing of those things, and I’m totally looking forward to the next thirty years. Seriously, what’s to be worried about? God willing, this is not my mid-life point, so crisis averted there. God willing, I have only advancement ahead of me in terms of career. God willing, I’ll get to see my happy little family grow and develop. I presume there’s going to be more time for seeing the world, reading good books, seeing good movies, going to good parties and concerts, eating good food and spending time with good people. And, God willing, good health will stay with me through it all.

So if that’s all true, then this really isn’t a time for worry, or need of pause, or morose self-evaluation.

So, simply, happy birthday to me. Today is a good day, and I am glad to be in it. Yesterday was a good day and so too, I expect, tomorrow will be as well. And hey, why fight it? After all:

There is no cure for birth and death, save to enjoy the interval.
– George Santayana

Ps-if you want to buy me a beer at some point because you think the occasion requires more celebration, I won’t object to that ;) For now, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m gonna go ice my knees.

35 years--Happy birthday to me!

So, year #35 is here. Or is it actually my 36th year now? I never know how these things work.

I digress.

I feel like the past year was foundation for a great year ahead. Settling into my role at work. Goofy, interesting, intelligent kids in school / preschool, and game for adventure outside of it. Kate taking on interesting and challenging work. Taking up sprint race kayaking again for the first time since 2004, and doing all the fitness that goes along with that. I feel very blessed that the big buckets of health, family life and work have been keeping me well fulfilled.

Goofy kid being goofy

Looking forward, we're pretty much all done with our home improvements and can enjoy what's there. The battles with the raccoons seem to be over for the most part (see previous postings).

I thoroughly enjoy my work which constantly has me learning new things and developing great relationships... and my colleagues send me cards like this, which means they also share a good sense of humour:

I have a wonderfully supportive family who lets me get away with being on the water a few days a week, which has been very rewarding for me since I got back in the boat in the Spring. I made it out to the last regatta of the season at the end of September, and I look forward to racing again in 2015. 

My brother phoned me today to wish me a happy birthday and inform me that I'm now officially closer to 40 than to 30.


It's not a thought that worries me.

On the one hand, I could look at our familial track record  of longevity--or distinct, multi-generational lack thereof--and freak out. But it isn't time for a mid-life crisis. It's time to enjoy just how life is. I'm not much worried about the next best thing. I have a lot of gratitude in my life for the fact that the next best thing is every day. I think it's way too easy to get caught up in wondering what's next, or spend too much time fussing on little things that don't add up to much in the end.

Don't get me wrong, the minutiae is important--it's why we have a whiteboard in our kitchen; a snapshot noting each lunch and dinner for the entire week, which kid is where, on what day, and what evening which parent is coming home late for whatever reason.

But the snapshot isn't the big picture. The big picture is 'fulfilled, loved and happy'

Best present ever.

P.S. Acting "Your Age" is overrated. Don't forget to stay a kid at least a little! 

Donating blood: The Interview

FINALLY going back to donate blood today after a shameful, multi-year hiatus. Looking forward to my entrance exam, which usually goes something like this:

*usual review of lengthy questionnaire, then consultation…*

"Hmmm, interesting scar you have on your left forearm there.”

*Nurse's pulse begins to race*
“It’s a grafting scar leftover. I don’t shoot heroin if that’s what you’re thinking”
“Graft?”

*nurse's pulse begins to race faster*

“Yeah. You’ll note I chopped off some fingers. Docs tried to reattach them but they needed some extra vein length”

“OK well, that should be fine. Ah yes, I see it on your file. Your tetanus is up to date, though?”
“Yeah, don’t worry, I manage to critically injure myself once every decade just to be sure I get the tetanus shot.”

“When was your last tetanus shot, then?”

“June 21st, 2010”

“Oh, that’s very specific. How do you know the date?
“My two year old son sent me to hospital when he split my head open with his teeth. Long story. Happy birthday to my son, happy fathers’ day to me.”
“Any resulting illnesses?”

“It almost went septic, but I managed to avoid that with a week of IV antibiotics and fluids”
“Almost… went septic?”

Yeah, this is what the screening room looks like when
they leave to check your file. exciting stuff. 

*Visible beads of sweat begin to appear on nurses brow*

“Yeah, all good though. I got a note on my file about that, even though I haven’t been in to donate for years.”
*Nurse goes to find file notes, comes back*

“Okay found it.… Any other surgeries or illnesses in your history?”

“Hepatitis A.”
*more sweat on nurses’ brow*

“Sorry… hepatitis?”

“Yes. A type. The curable one. The one I got follow-up blood tests and clearance letters from my doctor for, specifically so I could continue to donate blood. It’s in my file.”

*Nurse goes away again for a while*
“OK so we can’t find that in your file. How did you contract Hep A?”
“Working at Earl’s restaurant, far as anyone knows. Inconclusive investigation from the health authority. About that file, please look harder.”
*nurse goes away again*

“OK we found it and it looks like you’re good. Few more questions for you. Have you ever felt light-headed during or after a donation?”
“Yes, once. I passed out on my feet.”
“Oh. And when was that?”
“2002. My front two teeth are fake thanks to that one.”

It's all goooood!

“Any surgeries, piercings or tattoos  in the last six months? “

“Surgery, yes”
*Nurse now wiping sweat from brow*
“What for?”
“Hemorrhoidectomy, if you must know.”
*slough of follow up questions*

“OK, I think we’re done. You feel well today?”
“Yep, fine!”

“Thank you for coming in!”

--------------------------

So this is a lighthearted look at what it’s like for me to go through the screening at Canadian Blood Services. It actually takes me WAY longer to answer their questions than it does for my iron-rich blood stream to pump out 500 ml of the good stuff.

Fact is, it’s worth it. Donating blood saves lives. 

I myself needed a wee nip of donated blood back in the days when I cut off my fingers, albeit it a very small amount. I know there are plenty of exclusionary politics around people who can and cannot donate, but I’m not going to let that stop me from making donations. As I said at the outset, it’s been quite a long time since I made a donation; years, in fact. I hope the visit I am making today gets me back on the wagon!

I'll add a photo to the blog to prove I made it through the interview!

Being ten years old

I remember my 10^th birthday. I remember it like little else from when I was younger. I don’t precisely know why this is. it definitely stands out in my mind, from all other adolescent birthdays, from most memories of my youngest years in general. My memories from being a little kid are often fairly spotty. Even if I see myself in a photo from, say, my eighth birthday party, or a family camping trip when I was seven, there’s no memory that is jogged by it. I remember nothing—nothing—at all about kindergarten, other than the names of the three teachers I had that year.

But the 10^th birthday sticks out for me. Maybe it was all the talk of ‘double digits’—that short period of time in our life when we have only one number to our years, now in the past. I remember both my mom and dad talking about what a milestone it was to be 10 years old; some coming-of-age time of life, even though it’s really not. I remember holding the birthday cards in my hands, colourful, with text loudly pronouncing ‘YOU’RE 10!’ I had a hot air balloon cake that year, with blue icing, shredded coconut, and licorice whips for the ropes between the balloon and the basket.

Like I say, I don’t know what this birthday sticks out in my mind. But today, my own son turns ten. And I’m sure it will stick out in my mind forevermore.

A decade is a long time.

It was a long time ago that this small little human was born, very suddenly, on our bathroom floor, three weeks ahead of his projected due date. Born on the summer solstice during a period of pleasantly warm weather, we took him to the beach when he was four days old, this 6 lb 7 oz baby, swaddled in close to his mother’s chest.

A decade is a long time.

And here, today, this same human with the same chestnut-coloured hair that he was born with, will scoot, walk or ride himself off to school, perhaps where he will be feted by his classmates. He’ll learn long division, do a unit in the computer lab, charge around at lunch playing soccer or basketball or just goof around with friends. Before all that, he’ll probably ask for an egg for breakfast, and then another, which he’ll hungrily slurp down along with fruit and bread and a glass of milk. And on the weekend, he’ll have his party where we’ll play laser tag and talk about hockey and soccer and have cake and sing happy birthday.

Maybe it will all stand out to him like it did for me when I was his age. Maybe there is some understanding that those single digit years are behind you, and the road to triple digits is long, and unachievable to most. A life of double digits, therefore, awaits. But that’s too big a thought for 10-year-old, isn’t it?

And now I pause and think again of that little baby boy. And I reflect on all the milestones in these first ten years, the uniqueness of the character that is growing up before my eyes, and I set my sights on what his next ten years will look like. But I don’t actually want to look ahead too soon. Because as I think about it now—about these last ten years—they actually happened really fast. 

In fact, I’m wondering, just now, where they went. 

How did we go from diapers and midnight feedings to hockey card collections, Saturday soccer games and skiing black diamond runs? How did it go from mushy peas and carrots, to a love of sushi, top 40 music and a mind for mathematics?

I guess, perhaps, it just boils down to this nice, round number. It’s easy to package up a decade in retrospect; so much cleaner than a seven-year review, or eight or nine. Ten. It has a certain ring to it, just like my parents told me it did.

That’s just about enough philosophizing on the importance of a 10^th birthday. I’m glad for every day we’ve been given with him. He was the best thing to happen to 2008, and ten years later, we have a smart, funny, kind, interesting kid on our hands, and there’s nowhere to go but up. I don’t know if he’ll look back at his own 10^th birthday, 30 years from now, and think ‘huh, that was something special’. But trust me, it IS special. HE is special, and THAT is what makes it special.

Happy 10^th, buddy. Love you.

ps - perhaps he'll remember his LAZER TAG party! (watch it larger on YouTube: https://youtu.be/ljSko0-6k48) 

3,650 days ago. 

One of these years is not like the other

Happy birthday to me! 

If present me could go back a year ago and bet against past me about what my 35th year was going to be like, present me would be in the money!

AH, Florida tan lines. Good times were had in my 35th year! 

A year ago, prospects looked good for a training and competition track that may have lead to the 2016 Rio Paralympics in the sport of sprint kayak. Alas, as multiple previous posts have noted, I was declassified based on new rules that came out this year.

A year ago, I was working at PwC,  but here we are one year later and I'm searching for my next exciting opportunity!

What a family!

A year ago, I was jogging along fine. Now I'm waiting for knee surgery! I've also managed to somehow put a small tear in the bicep insertion on my right arm. That one is a minor hassle compared to the knee!

All these things come with their own blessings, of course. I am excited to find my next work contract that is at the core of what I'm good and and what I enjoy. The paddling thing is what it is, and I am thoroughly enjoying being in a different kind of boat, the V-1, which provides its own potential opportunities and sense of satisfaction. That, in tandem with free time at the moment affords me the opportunity to take long, introspective paddles on my birthday!

#Birthday10K on a foggy Vancouver Friday!

The knee and the elbow things are... well, that's getting older, perhaps :D

On my birthdays these past years, I also turn my thoughts to my parents. By this age (not that they could have known at the time), they were already well past their mid-life. If (BIG, HUGE knock on wood) It was to be the same for me, I know that by my mid-30's I have already been blessed with so much opportunity, and such a great community of friends and family that I just have to smile about where life is at. The constants in my life with which I am blessed year in and year out keep a smile on my face no matter what.

No sense looking down when there's always a sun overhead!

Here's to the 36th birthday bringing about new opportunities and experiences!

43rd birthday reflection!

Age 42 has come and gone. It started off in a world closed down by pandemic, it ended in a world more open, but still in a pandemic. Strange times.

It was, on some levels a tough year for me. My work excites me, but it also demanded a lot as my team was continually reshaped, our employees came and went and we’ve had difficulty finding the right people for several key roles on my team. So I’ve been wearing more hats than I’d like.

One thing that has allowed me to do more work is the fact that at age 42.3 yrs, I inherited my first-ever case of tennis elbow (less sport = more work!). I can only attribute this to advancing age. I’ve always taken part in sports that have heavy reliance on repetitive arm motions: volleyball, kayaking, rowing. Well, this past February, I got a very bad case of tennis elbow.

Like, real bad.

How bad?

Well, here’s a test for you: Place your hand flat on a surface, palm facing down, and spread your fingers out just slightly. Lift your middle finger off the table. Does that feel like a dragon is simultaneously scorching your arm with fire and ripping its claws through your flesh? No? Okay, well, that’s basically the acute level my tennis elbow got to in a very short period of time.

“Just use your other hand for stuff!” said everyone. A lovely idea but a crock of ablest bullsh*t to a guy missing most of his fingers on his left hand 😜.

Hans Moleman,
or picture of Stu? 

I gave up rowing last winter very quickly because of this. No repetitive motion or weight bearing in that hand for months on end, only the slightest of stretching exercises, and finally after consult with a rheumatologist, two rounds of corticosteroid injections over the course of a couple of months to finally bring the swelling under control.

These days, I’m very slowly, very carefully as per doctor’s instructions, reintroducing repetitive movement and weight bearing to the arm. I’d like to say I kept my cardio in excellent shape during all this time of very little strength training, but way back at the start of the summer I also blew my back. I’m just now back to riding bikes and jogging with comfort again.

Long story short, I’m on the mend. I look forward to returning to rowing hopefully in the new year, because I have A LOT of unfinished business in that sport, and in the meantime, I’m getting better each day and psyched for 43! Happy Birthday to me!

Wendy, that woman on the other end of my video conference screen.

It was a weird feeling, to send a text to Wendy on July 5th, her birthday. I struggled with it for a while; wondering whether or not to send it all. It was hard to get the wording right, knowing it would be the last birthday she got to spend on earth. 

I also had a nagging sense of imposter syndrome, having never met Wendy in person. Why would I send this text at all? 

Perhaps I should go into a little more detail. 

I was first introduced to the name of Wendy Roberts in 2019, when our working worlds collided. I, in my role with Make-A-Wish BC & Yukon, and she with her role with Children's Wish Foundation of Canada. Our two organizations merged in October of that year, and all of a sudden, we were colleagues. Wendy in Ontario and me in B.C. and before long Wendy and I were collaborating on things like press releases and text for donation web pages. 

As it happens when organizations merge, there are a lot of people who move around. Somewhere in the shuffle, I moved off the BC team and onto the Make-A-Wish Canada national team. And there was Wendy, and she and I were teammates on a much closer scale. 

But you guys, I don't know if you know, but this thing called the COVID-19 pandemic hit somewhere in the middle of all this, thus putting the kibosh on any plans to meet our newly formed teams in person. Little could we have known at the time, but COVID would thus ensure Wendy and I never got to meet in person, along with numerous other colleagues who would not have the pleasure. 

At this point, you're likely thinking that she succumbed to COVID. Not so. I'm coming to that. 

First, more about Wendy. Importantly, not meeting in person does not diminish the fact that this was a woman that you could really get to know. She was just one of those wonderfully open people, a book full of warmth, humour, insight, intelligence and charm. Our relationship, therefore, was online... but it was a great relationship. 

I loved meeting with Wendy. And in our roles, we had daily reasons to do so. Whether working on press materials, gathering materials for staff meetings or hunkered down in the trenches of issues management work, you couldn't help but be glad to be in Wendy's presence. .

Work aside, there was always time for a chat. Hearing about what her husband, Andre was up to, keeping up to date on her twin girls Taylor and Alicia, or chatting about her dad (COVID kept her from visiting family in the Maritimes for too long, but she managed to travel back when restrictions eased). You could chat with Wendy with the ease of a friend... which she truly was. Weekend plans, TV shows, the weather, politics. 

For the past several months, though, I've had no occasion to meet with Wendy. We've exchanged texts and photos through our thumbs on our cell phones, but Wendy has been off work as she had the biggest task of her life to deal with: a diagnosis of stage four pancreatic cancer. I don't know if you know much about pancreatic cancer--I'm not about to go into details--but it can be swift. And for Wendy, it was. 

On July 19th, 2022 she passed away peacefully surrounded by her family. I am at loose ends this week, feeling a deep sense of loss for, remarkably, someone I never even got to give a hug to "in real life". But as I said, this did not diminish our ability to get to know one another, even to love someone. On her birthday, I told her so. 

"I am glad you were born," I said. "Celebrating you today," I said, amongst a few other pleasantries. Some things you don't get another chance at, so you better say what you're wanting to say when you have time to say it. 

And truly, I am glad she was born and that our life paths crossed when and how they did. I will not wallow in disappointment that we never met in person, but rather will let my heart be full of love for knowing the remarkable 'Wendy' at all. She was a gift in my life, to be sure. 

In her final act of kindness, Wendy wanted to keep paying it forward. One of her daughters, you see, was a wish recipient a few years back. It was that event that eventually drew Wendy to the work that she was doing, and the reason I had to meet her. That's how the universe works, after all. It is Wendy's wish that this work of granting wishes keeps going. She requested that a fund in lieu of flowers be set up to collect donations for Make-A-Wish, so that another child facing critical illnesses may come to know the joy of a granted wish. If you feel so moved as to contribute to her noble goal, you can do so here. 

Wendy and I would end off all of our calls be they collegial or casual in pretty much the exact same way. 

"Okay, my friend," she would preface the conclusion, "Nice talking to you/have a good afternoon/weekend/we will chat again very soon," and always signed off with "take care, bye for now." 

I can hear her voice now. I have missed it for months, but today, I really miss it. I will continue to miss it in days to come. 

Okay, my friend. Take care. Bye for now (and all my love). 

Photo courtesy of Petra King Photography

Happy Birthday Sacha James!

Dear Sacha,

Today, you turn one year old! In short, I am in awe of the 12 months that has just gone by...but there is more to say than just that!

I can count on one hand the number of times your mum and I have been out of the house, at the same time, without you in the last 12 months. I can count on just over one hand how many nights I have slept away from you, on business or whatever. Unfortunately, I cannot include those same nights as counting the number of times I’ve slept through the night in the last year, as I’m so conditioned to wake up at random intervals expecting to hear you crying out in the dark. And then there's your mum who noted just the other day that she's not slept away from you for even one night in a whole year. That's something she can't say about anybody else in her whole life.

I can’t begin to count the number of diaper changes, crying fits, ear splitting screams, lost hours of sleep and free time, and loads of laundry that have flashed before my eyes in the last 365 days.
Then:



Now:


This doesn’t sound like a ringing endorsement of parenthood, nor of your existence.
Contrary to all the negative images just noted, immeasurable is the joy in my life that you alone have brought me. Life was great before you, make no mistake, but it’s definitely been taken to a whole ‘nother level.

What is so remarkable about the last year is that with each passing week and month, you produce another surprise for us, another marker or milestone that seems to us a miracle, but the likes of which you will never be able to recall. Opening your eyes and seeing the world, your first smiles, the first hints of an ability for interaction, and the first gurgles of language, and laughter, eating solid foods, and then sitting up on your own, and the flapping of your arms and legs in excitement, and the appearance of perfect little teeth, and crawling, and waving, and clapping, and so much more.

When you first arrived, when all I could do to help you was change you, pick you up and put you down, you felt like a bit of a house pet to me, as I then liked to say. But you’re my Pinocchio, and to be sure… you are a real boy now and I thrill at being able to watch you grow.

Also at the front of my mind in past weeks is how incredibly fast this year has gone! How can it be, that despite being awake (I say jokingly) for 50 per cent more hours every day, thanks to your sleep patterns, that life could still seem to fly by? Shouldn’t longer days make for slower days? Well, it is not the case, and the first year of your life is already in the books.

Happy birthday my little buddy. We are so fortunate that on your first birthday, we feel like the ones with all the gifts.

Love,

Your mum and dad

Not sure about this whole birthday cake thing...

No wait! I like it!

The StuLand 2011 Year in Review / Merry Christmas

What do rats, compost piles and kidney disease, sibling rivalries, skunks, preschools, cancer, newborns and houses, all have to do with each other? Just another year in the Chase household, that’s all.

First, the rats and/or mice. This has been one of the few constants in our last year. No, we do not live in an unkempt cesspool. But we do live in a century house, and it comes with holes. Which rodents find their way into. And it drives us crazy. Doesn’t seem to matter what we do, they always find another way in. perhaps we can blame previous generations of ownership, I don’t know. Our house turned 100 this years. A century’s worth of owners means a century’s worth of home renos, the result of most of them seeming to be the burying of wonderful character, and perhaps the construction of an underground network of rodent tunnels built in the meantime as well? Who knows. If you have any iron clad tips for keeping rodents out, let me know. As for the house and state of the character on it's birthday: Glimmers of its old self are there. Exhibit A, the front entrance stairwell and upper landing, currently dressed for the holidays. After having it sanded down and re varnished a couple years back, the original honey coloured wood today shines through. The most unique characteristic of this is the wear pattern of countless footfalls resulting in weathered wood with blackened streaks, laying a path that has been trod for one hundred years. We plan to restore the banister down to the wood at some point, too, maybe in the coming year as part of a larger renovation that would bring a dramatic change to the house. We spent much of 2011 envisioning such a renovation, perhaps in 2012 we’ll get it done. For the time being, this railing is painted a crisp white. This approach has proven quite flawed, particularly in the last year, as the railing is the perfect height for gnawing on. Not by the adults or the dog or house mice, though. Rather, our kids, as they descend the stair case, stopping every once in a while to sample the paint (thankfully lead free). I wonder if previous owners faced such issues!

As for other rodents, many of you know about our adventures with pepe. Happy to report that after our summer cleanout, he never returned. We’ve had to shoo racoons and a cat off the roof,since then though. I have grown weary of urban wildlife this past year.

Alas, our own dog is adding herself to the urban wildlife scene, recently taking to navigating her way through our fencing and bushes to roam the neighbourhood. We thought she was trotting up the street to feast on the refuse from the Chinese grocer at the end of the block, but we’ve recently landed on the fact that she appears to be snacking without reserve on a neighbour’s uncovered compost pile. The stench on her breath is one thing, but we also, in the past year, have found our dog to be in rather ill health; it appears she may have a degeneterative kidney disease, so here we are trying to buy her time and keep her healthy with pills and blood tests and controlled diets, and she’s treating the neighbour’s yard like a personal all you can eat buffet.

As for the other kids in the house, the human ones, Sacha and Heidi have had a great year. Both continue to flourish and Heidi shows little sign of the fact that she was such an early arrival in 2010. It has been interesting to watch the dynamic of a 3.5 year old boy, of whom we are teaching rules, responsibility and order to, and his 1.5 year-old sister, to whom few of those things can concretely apply quite yet, though they are coming along nicely.
I am sure Sacha sees Heidi getting away with murder and it drives him crazy, which may lead to the occasional hair pull, head butt or bite, but on the whole, the pair get along swimmingly and use their words to sort out their differences. One arena of Sacha’s life where we were unable to sort out the differences was that of preschool. His was shut down mere weeks after opening due to near complete mismanagement, some of the results of which were quite frightening to behold. So, we have been trying to find alternatives to keep Sacha engaged with a peer group, and learning ‘schooly’ types of things. We look forward to 2012 being a more consistent year in that respect.

Speaking of biting--and also frightening to behold--I didn’t report it on this blog back in June, but I did suffer a substantial gash in my forehead this year, thanks to Sacha leaping off a pool ledge without prior warning. His lil’ chompers caught me at the hairline. His teeth were left in tact, but I needed a trip to the ER. Long story short, the human mouth is a filthy thing. I landed in St. Paul’s hospital with a massive cranium thanks to infection and swelling (any Goonies fans out there? Sloth?), aka Cellulitis. I’ll leave it to you, dear reader to look up the term and find out what it can lead to if not treated properly, but suffice it to say, after a week off work, IV’s, antibiotics and a miserable headache, I’ll be holding this one against Sacha for the rest of his life. The scar has healed well, thank you for asking :)

Last but not least, you may notice on the list above that the words ‘cancer’ and ‘newborns’ appear side by side. This is more than just mere coincidence. Fact of the matter is, the two things seem to coincide in our lives quite regularly. My dad was dealing with his colon cancer when his first grandchild rolled around, my son was born while mum battled breast cancer, and this year my sister has just delivered her first child, a daughter, on December 13th--mere weeks after mum underwent lifesaving surgery to remove a brain tumour, and mere days before she started some aggressive radiation therapy to try to deal with tumours that remain in her head. We are overjoyed that my sister has brought her baby into the world, and we know that soon, mum will be able to meet her newest grandchild face to face. All were to be together in the UK at my sister’s house for Christmas this year, but due to the emergent situation with mum, it just can’t be.

So what’s the takeaway from all of this? Especially the last part? Well, if you want to use a ‘Reason for the Season’ analogy, Jesus wasn’t born at the Ritz, was he? Mary barely made it to the stable. Best laid plans / Life is just like that/etc. There’s been bad in the last 12 months, like when my wife had her head, neck and torso shoved into the dark rafters as she tried to drag a stinky dead rat out from in the insulation. There’s been bad, like when I held mum’s hand before she went in for brain surgery. There’s been bad, like knowing my sister had a really, really tough pregnancy. But a lot of good has happened too. When the dead rats are gone the house smells good again, mum is still here to meet her new grandchild, and that newborn baby is crying in it’s parent's arms. The roof is still over our heads, we are steadily employed in a poor economy, our kids are healthy and growing, we get to travel here and there and enjoy our families, and the food is on the table whenever we needed it.

Some days we miss the good, but it’s always there.


from my family to yours, we hope that wherever you are and whoever you are with this Christmas and New Year, you have the time to reflect on your last 12 months, to realize all that you have, and to look forward to an exciting and prosperous 2012.

As one of our family members likes to say on such occasions: May the best of your past year be the worst of the year to come. May.it.be.so.

Happy Holidays,
Stu

Thirty nine and feeling fine

Heidi made me a birthday crown! 

Thanks to a part of the extended family who uses a highlights / lowlights format to review each year on their birthday, and my exposure to that format many, many times, I’m now in the habit of compartmentalizing my year into these two categories. One always starts with the lowlights so that you can end off your annual review with the highlights.

In that spirit, let’s begin, shall we?

To be honest, there aren’t that many major lowlights to talk about. I feel, generally, that I get to lead a charmed life and I’ve very little to complain about. 

One disappointment from the past year relates to canoe-kayak, and the removal of upper limb impairment from the para classifications. It boggles my mind—along with the minds of anyone to whom I explain—that paddlers who cannot hold a paddle without some sort of apparatus or prosthetic… cannot paddle as para athletes. 

So, the racing season was low-key; I didn’t train much on the water and watched from afar as lots of other para paddlers had great racing opportunities. Argh. But, I won’t spend all my time waiting for that second chance. I AM trying to keep discussions going that might, somewhere down the road, see the reintroduction of the classification but I’m not spending too much mental energy on it on a daily basis!

Aside from that, I feel as though the lowlight things that happened in the last 12 months were about other people: The C word continues to strike people close to us. Friends and family, young and more elderly, have had to face the realities of living with, and fighting against, cancer. Without so much as blinking, I can name people ages seven through 70 that are fighting a good fight right now. Pray for them, please!

Edyn’s passing was another lowlight of this year. If you read my blog from earlier this year, you know how I felt about that. I still think of her most days, and I hope she’s resting in comfort.

So that’s my list of lowlights.  

I turn now to the highlights. Let’s start with the job.

It’s awesome. Working at Make-A-Wish has been so rewarding. I get to use the skills in my basket, and do so in a place that I feel is doing some good for this world. Donate here, and know that your money is being spent wisely for a good cause (that’s not a solicitation for donations, by the way. Or IS it?! :P)

Next, the kids. There are moments of frustration and sheer annoyance in any parent’s life, but pound for pound, nothing outweighs the joy I feel in just watching these kids ‘be’. They are rapidly gaining their independence, they have favourite school subjects, friends, activities, and they have great personalities. Whether Heidi is skipping along a sidewalk, traversing monkey bars, skiing, playing basketball or riding a scooter, the happiness I see in her when she is in a state of movement and freedom is really special to witness. Much the same with Sacha. The name of his game is soccer, and he loves to play! He’s on a great team this Fall with a bunch of kids who seem well matched in their abilities, and they seem like a group of engaged, interesting people unto themselves. It’s fun to watch Sacha operate in this peer group.

As a family, one of the highlights of the year was definitely a summer vacation trip to England. (PS I’m about to release a whole series of videos about the trip, so troll on over to my YouTube Channel to catch some highlights of those adventures!). We had two weeks to explore! It was the kid’s first time to the UK. It was nice to know they are old enough now that they will remember this trip really well (money well spent!). We had good times connecting with family and friends over there, as well as exploring on our own, too. Sacha, in particular, is enamoured of airplanes these days, so a nine-hour trans-Atlantic flight suited him just fine (aboard a Dreamliner, no less, a first for all of us!).

As always, watching anything my wife does is a highlight. The way she carries herself in this world is a model for all humankind. An intelligence and thoughtfulness that extends through parenting, career and family life make me feel very blessed to be married to her. I’m a lucky guy : )  

On that note, I’ll end it here. As my thirties start to fade into the sunset, I feel as though life is at its best. There will be no 40^th/mid-life crisis here, folks. I’m where I should be, and I love my life. Here’s to more of that : )

Happy Holidays from Stuart, Kate, and Nellie the family Pooch

Off the top, Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Kwazy Kwanza, and happy new year to everyone. We are in awe to the many of you who have managed to get out Christmas cards and photos. Thank you for sending them to us; it's great to hear about how your year has been! We admit our complete and utter failing in this department, and in the same breath thank you for your success! consider this your letter... without a stamp, envelope, or paper... and really, isn't that what we need in this time of environmental consciousness?!

Okay, time to get serious:

One of the obnoxious things about the human condition is that we like to look back on time spent, and try to rate the quality of that time. I say that because the past is full of…well…the past. Stuff you can’t change, can’t give back or can’t take back, no matter what.

“Wow”, you’re thinking right now. “Such a cheery start to the letter. Seems a bit ominous for the ol’ holiday piffle, doesn't it?”

Well to be honest, there is only one thing this year that was a truly negative experience, but it weighs heavily on us right now; that ‘thing’ being dad passing away. Christmas was without a doubt his favourite time of year. Dad was the type who would, on Boxing Day, eagerly pronounce that there were only 364 days left until next Christmas.

And right now, we miss him terribly. Even his musical Christmas tie, spitting out its tinny holiday tunes at each press of the button. We’re a bit scattered to the four winds as a family this year, in part perhaps because we’re old enough to be able to share the time with others than just ourselves, but as much as anything, I think it is an acknowledgement that things ain’t quite right, at least for this year, and we need to do our own thing.

As such, Mum is headed off to England to spend a few weeks with my sister and her boyfriend’s family. My brother is headed to Prince George to celebrate with his in-laws, which will be followed closely by a near month-long trip to Hawaii with Dina and wee Aria. And Kate and I have two weeks off of work, which we plan to split between time here in Vancouver and time up at Whistler. Kate also has her birthday this weekend, and we have our wedding anniversary on the 30th (I save money all year, for the grand week that is the Merry Annibirthday).

All in all, we have much to be thankful for in 2007. I started a fantastic job back in February which presents me with ever-changing challenges and is by no means short on interesting issues, and it is a job I look forward to continuing through the coming year.

Kate transitioned out of her speech language pathologist job that she held for a year, opting to focus her attentions on early behavioural intervention for pre-school aged children with autism. Not to be one to start on the ground floor, nor take a break, Kate essentially entered into a partnership role with a private firm, and started it the day after she finished up at the Centre For Ability. This too, is a job that presents her with ever-changing challenges and is by no means short on interesting issues. And like me, she loves what she is doing, so we’re very fortunate in the employment department.

Other highlights of the year are well enough documented on this blog: the wonderful arrival of our first niece, Aria. The beginning and end of many a pocket of renovation on our house. A shift in lifestyle choices as we have endeavoured to eat local. A great week puttering around Vancouver Island in the summer. Jaunting up to Kamloops here and there to hang out with family. And lets not forget the simple things that make every year great, like taking the dog for long walks on Saturdays, dinners out, sleeping in now and again, visiting with friends, staying healthy (save the odd bout of the sniffles here and there), taking time to get to know the neighbours…. And the list could go on.

So, as I said at the start, the past is what it is. Stuff you can’t change, can’t give back and can’t take back, no matter what.

But that’s okay.

We can at least learn from it, appreciate the experience for what it was, and never have to do it again.

And when things have really gone well, we can remember those things fondly, be glad for who we are, be glad for who’s with us along the way, and be glad for what we have going forward.

Happy Holidays everyone. All the best for 2008.

P.S.—for those who missed it last year, I’ve elfed the household. It seems everyone is doing this this year, so while it may not be all that novel, if nothing more, Nellie looks funny with a human body .

Kids say the darndest things…

“She’s such a psychotic b*tch!”

These very words were uttered from the lips of my (usually) sweet six year-old son. He was referring to his sister. How could it have come to this?!

Let’s back it up a touch, shall we?

It was in the days after my daughter’s fifth birthday. She had received a build-your-own birdhouse kit, which she was working on during the day with our nanny. The work in progress sat on our dining room table. I was busy preparing dinner one evening, and my son, Sacha, approached the birdhouse with the intention of showing his sister, Heidi how the roof was to be put together. The exchange went something like this:

“Here, Heidi, let me show you how this goes together” (subtext: “I want to work on this”)

“No, Sacha!” (subtext: this is my project. Hands off.).

“I just want to show you how this goes! GAWD!”

*chaos ensues *

“OK Sacha, hands off the birdhouse, come sit over here for a few minutes and cool off.”*Sacha lays down on the floor feeling sorry for himself* “Heidi  wants this to be a project for her, during the day, and it’s her birthday present, so let’s respect that. I know we share, but you guys are getting really mad at each other, so cool it.”

With the kids separated and “calm”, I returned to the kitchen.  

And then I heard Heidi’s war cry. She was not, it seemed, content with the situation quite yet.

“I AM COMING OVER THERE TO HURT YOU!”

And with that, she charged across the room, having made her choice. She dropped a chest-stomping left foot onto Sacha’s rib cage, WWE style.

*Chaos reigns once more*

Heidi was in her deepest pits of rage now, and she needed to be moved. After making sure Sacha was OK,  Heidi was taken upstairs to scream her head off by herself in her bedroom.

Back downstairs to Sacha.

“Hey buddy, you OK? I’m sorry that Heidi chose to use her body instead of her words like that.”

And there, from his position lying on the floor, he looked up at me and said "it".

“She’s such a psychotic b*tch!”

This, dear readers, was one of my finest parenting moments, I have to tell you. 

You will be amazed to learn I didn’t break out into fits of laughter, though Sacha caught  hint of a smile immediately tug at the corners of my mouth, and a glint appeared in his eyes. Quickly wiping any hints of the humour from my face, I gave a short and stern dad-style lecture about hurtful, powerful words, strong language, yadda yadda yadda.

Quickly, It dawned on me that this was not the run of the mill profanity and my course of inquiry changed.

“Sacha, WHERE did you even hear words like this?! Mum and dad don’t ever speak like this”

“NOWHERE,” he said, ruefully.

“It must have come from somewhere. Are kids at school talking like this?”
“NO! I’ve never heard these words before.”

Imagine my surprise, to learn that it was my own son who introduced these words into the English language.

****************

This accounting is the most extreme we’ve had in our house, but the use of the occasional “swear” is on the rise in our house. Without a doubt, some of it has been picked up at home. I am guilty of the occasional F-bomb front and center with the kids. Not directed at them, but if I stub my toe, cut myself chopping vegetables, or whatever.

Increasingly, though, the playground at school is a source of all sorts of choice language, either during school with the kids up to grade three (our school is an annex), or after school when kids from “the big school” come around to play in the annex fields).

So far my biggest challenge is keeping the idiot smile off my face when we’re treated to this colourful language. The best we can do as adults is try to curb our own foul mouths, and talk frankly and openly about why those words are totally inappropriate.

In any case, the time has finally come in our house.

We’re instituting The Swear Jar.

.25 cents per youth offence, $1 per adult offence, with proceeds to charity.

Why do these kids have to grow up so fucking fast anyway?

ARGH! There goes the first loonie.

*sigh* 

happy birthday to meeeee... (belated!)

Well, October 2 has come and gone once more, which means my B-day has also come and gone. I turned 26 years old yesterday! ( Yes, journalism students, I realize this blog posting is already rife with CP style errors!) I was up in Kamloops for the occasion; the first time I have been with my family for my birthday since I don't even know when. In high school and in university, I was always away on a volleyball trip, and while living in Edmonton, I was...just... in Edmonton, which makes it a bit far to come home just for a birthday. Anyway, it was good times hanging out with the family! Kate's dad, Peter & his partner Allison, as well as Kate's brother Michael, all came to Kamloops on saturday night from Kelowna to join us for dinner, so that was nice! My sister-in-law, Dina, was also there. It's her Birthday on oct. 6, so this was a duel celebration!

Highlights of the weekend: got a new hacksaw! Got a new power sander! got some new dvd's! Got a new housecoat! some of those were presents, some of it was bought by me. either way, I got stuff. yipee!

There was plenty of wildlife to be seen / heard this weekend. Coyotes tried to make lunch out of the neighbour's dog while we were all walking in the woods (we scared them away and reeled in the dog before they could actually lay a paw on the pooch, though!), and a black bear came a-wanderin' through some of the properties out the back of our house. I tried to get his/her attention (you know, for a photo op...), but he/she paid no attention. Too busy looking for food / garbage or something like that. The / A bear as already picked the neighbourhood clean, though. My mum & dad were silly enough to leave to bags of plums on the front step of the house to keep cool. They disappeared, as did some bird seed. You only make that mistake once, then all the food gets put out of reach :)

so that's about it! we arrived back to vancouver last night, and this weekend coming up, we'll be headed up to Whistler for Thanksgiving weekend! TTFN!

to end off, my quote for the post!
"I'm not 26 years old, I'm 18 years old with eight years experience!"

A firm grip on mid-life

Forty is the new 30.

Heard that a few times in the past? Me too, especially this year as a lot of my 1979’ers join in the big 4-oh club.

Sorry, but no. Forty is the new 40. Be happy with that.

When I was 30, I had a noisy infant, with number two baby soon to be on the way. I had a job that was not permanent—a career stepping-stone, yes, but not the career I have today. I was down one parent in recent years then, and the other was fighting cancer at the time. To be clear, there is no lament about life at 30, and in fact, I was being retrospective and celebrating similar content about the end of my 20’s, when I turned 30.  But it was a very different place than where I am now.

And now, I’m 40. I have two older, competent, interesting, engaged kids. I'm headed toward the 14^th anniversary of wedded happiness to my best gal. I'm in a career—yes, career—that I love and can keep growing into. My parents are both gone now, and I’m past my own grief of that and their happy memories live in my heart. All in, it’s a welcome way to start the next decade.

14,600 days later... 

No lament in the loss of more youth. I took up a new sport in the past year (rowing, for anyone paying attention) and it’s clear that you can teach an old dog some new tricks. Granted, this dog still has a lot to learn in that sport. It’s challenging and technical and I guess that’s what I’ve enjoyed about it. It’s good to keep testing the grey matter and learning new things. I have a new home this year, too—the previous blogpost will fill you in on that detail—and it’s pretty cool to start a fresh decade with a new abode.

If you look closely, there are a few sprigs of grey hair appearing in my eyebrows and hairline (nose and ear hairs, too, maybe?!). I welcome each new silvery addition. Growing older, and all the signs that provide witness to the passage of time, are privileges denied to so, so many.

I suppose the list of positives about being 40 could go on, but let’s keep it short and sweet. Life is better spent living in the moment and looking forward to what’s next than it will ever be looking back on what has happened (or didn’t happen). I’m a happy, healthy, wildly fortunate 40-year-old. I don’t know what I did to deserve what I have, but I’ll take it. I feel like I’m successful in most endeavours these days—that’s not an overnight thing, but a cumulation of a bunch of good days, great support and hard work that lead up to today. I’m a really freakin’ lucky guy. 

I have no major life advice at this time, in case you're curious. Be good, try to do good, and most things will come out 51 of 49 most of the time (that's my favourite 'old man' saying, FYI). 

Happy birthday to me. Bring on 40. 

Now pass the pie plate (a la mode, if you please!)

Knowing Monique

You don’t need to know Monique to know Monique’s type, and to feel you know her well.

Heck, in all honesty, the only place I can say I know her from is the office. Well, that and unfortunately, bedside in a hospital room.

Our office lost a colleague to cancer this week. More than that though, we lost a friend.

When I first started my job in February of 2007, I was taken around and introduced to all the staff. I didn’t meet Monique that day. Nor the next, nor the one after that. When I started here, Monique was already off work, battling with breast cancer. So no, I didn’t get to meet Monique right away.

But I sure heard about her.

The Legal Office Manager here, Monique was clearly a friendly force to be reckoned with. Everyone talked about her, people took time to visit her after work and on weekends. People spoke of her calm nature, her soft-spoken demeanour and light-hearted way.


Finally, after months of my working here, she was able to return to work and by the time she came through my office door to introduce herself to me, I felt like I knew her.

I think, even if I hadn’t heard everyone’s stories about her, my first impression would still have been to say that she was a friend. And so it went from there. Monique was back. Happy, productive, with the aura of victory over the ugliness of cancer.

As I got to know her, personally this time, she came to learn about my mother’s battle with breast cancer, which was happening at the same time as hers. She also came to learn about my father’s passing from cancer a few Spring seasons ago. She lost her own father a year ago. As was Monique’s way, she did not dwell on her own trials and tribulations, but was always asking about others.
“How is your mom doing, Stuart?,” or “Any more follow-up appointments?” and “ So glad to hear she’s doing well.”

How could this woman care so much about other people’s woes when she had so much on her own plate? That was just who Monique was.

Well, Monique’s presence in the office didn’t last long. The cancer came back. Monique, forever faithful and optimistic was ready for the fight. With prayers and positive thinking, she was going to beat her cancer.

I saw her for the last time, on my birthday, when I went to visit her in the palliative care unit of Burnaby Hospital. Nauseous, thinned, tired and weakened by months of treatments and an unrelenting cancer, she was still impossibly optimistic.

I was able to visit with Monique one-on-one for a little while. No mean feat, considering the steady stream of colleagues and other friends in to visit her, and the presence of her seven siblings who had arrived in town to see her through her final stretch.

“How is your mom doing Stuart?” Even then, more concerned for others than herself. Monique spoke of her faith, of going to meet The Father, and of seeing her father again, whom she couldn’t wait to see again, just knowing he would be waiting for her.
“God has decided I don’t need this body anymore,” she said, and after a quick pause, “and at this point I agree with Him,” she said with a little bit of cheek in her voice.

We had our little visit--for a few minutes anyway--in the lounge of the care unit. She asked about my family, how my son was developing. We only had a few minutes to chat before she said she was tired and wanted to go lie down. I wheeled her in to her room and she lay down. I didn’t stay long after that, just enough time to say goodbye. When I say goodbye to someone in this situation, like I have in the past to others I prefer to say thanks rather than goodbye, so that's what i did.

“Thank you? For what?” she asked quizzically. My response was quick and to the point.
“Just for being you; for your life. We love you. You’re an inspiration, and I—and everyone—is better for knowing you.”

I followed that up by saying I was pretty sure it was the first time I’ve told a co-worker I loved them, but then, all of her colleagues have said it, and we all mean it.

She laughed a little then, as if she didn’t believe it I think.
“Take care, Monique,” I said on the way out the door.
“You too,” she replied. “Glad your mum is doing well,” she said again.

Her last facebook status, updated by one of her siblings, simply says “Today is the day I got my wings.”

You earned them Monique, no question. Thank you. We’ll miss you, friend.