My sister is getting set to move again. The house she has been renting is just too much for her. She really only took it as a favour for a friend. Between that and being stuck in a town that has, like, nothing, she has had enough.
It isn't easy to find a place in town here though. She does have certain requirements. Not all of them are what you might expect.
For one thing, ghosts are out! The house she is in now is haunted. I can't prove that of course, but there have been some really weird things go on when nobody is looking. The ghosts apparently took exception to the way the tree was decorated this Christmas. Two of the ornaments FLEW off of the tree and smashed.
The other key is a private enterance. My youngest niece has issues with apartments. When she was little, she had an incident with a neighbour, nothing that hurt her, but enough to scare her so that she doesn't like apartment buildings. Her stress levels are high enough right now.
Then there is the rent. My sister is on a fixed income, like myself, so she has to be picky. That makes things just that much tougher.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
I won!
I just won a book by my favourite comic strip artist! Each month the studio runs a trivia contest, and three of the people who provide the correct answers get one of the collection books. I've been working on getting as many of the books as I can.
Your teachers were right, it pays to pay attention to what you are reading!
Your teachers were right, it pays to pay attention to what you are reading!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
The measure of a man
Okay, you have two minutes to get the obvious joke out of the way. (Hums "Naked Mole Rap" to self while waiting.)
It seems that we spend an awful lot of time debating the image of womanhood that is put up to young girls these days. Society demands they be pretty, extremely thin and still willing to be at the beck and call of men. I don't say that we should not be talking about and changing these attitudes. All I'm saying is that we haven't done enough talking about what is expected of the other half of the population.
From where I sit, it seems that society is demanding that men be even more rugged and muscular than ever before. The ideal man may have lost the cigarette and the can of beer, but he is still required to have just the right amount of hair, be no less than five foot seven and able to lift a Volkswagen.
Men are still supposed to avoid crying in public, especially in front of other men. We are supposed to hold all of our emotions, while at the same time show that we are sensitive. Did I miss something here? Aren't those two things diametrically opposite?
When asked, women often say that they are looking for personality and a sense of humour in a man. Right! Only if it comes in just the right package. They will often overlook what is obviously a lack of social skills, like being able to string more than three words together, for rock hard abs.
If all of this sounds a little bitter, I'll be truthful (One of the REAL measures of masculinity.) and admit that I am. I heard all of the old cliches when I was younger. "You're a nice guy, but... Can't we just be friends... I'm not looking for a relationship right (stares at "hot guy" going down hall) now." You get the picture.
To me, the man I always wanted to be was handsome, yes, but much more.
I think a true man is one who is honest to the people around him, but honest to himself too. He doesn't delude himself into thinking he knows everything. If a MAN gives his word, he keeps it, or demands the consequences. Real men are concerned with the reputation that goes with his name, and the name of his family. That is one of the old standards that I will stick by.
A real man is not afraid to tell you when he is sad, scared or worried. He won't burden you with his problems, but when the time is right, he will cry honest tears. He will call for help when he is in over his head. There is nothing wrong with showing your feelings, and so much trouble to be had when they are bottled in. For one thing, that is not being honest with the people around you.
I said that a real man will call for help when he gets in over his head. That said, I think a proper man does his best to stay out of that situation. He thinks before letting his temper or his pride get the better or him. Trying to jump your bike over a ditch on a dare is not bravery, boys, it's stupidity. Learn the difference!
There is a lot to be said for a guy who can stand out on his own for what he knows to be right, even when the people around him cannot. That independence is what separates us from herd animals.
There is the true measure of a man. It's the things that can't be seen or put into numbers. What does a man stand for? As the song goes, "You've got to stand for something, or you'll fall for anything./You've got to be your own man, not a puppet on a string." When my time on this world is over, I want to have stood for something, an idea that is far bigger than me. Before I am scattered to the winds and waves, I want people to remember me as being "a husband, a son, a brother, a neighbour and a good man."
I haven't always lived up to my best ideals, but I am trying.
It seems that we spend an awful lot of time debating the image of womanhood that is put up to young girls these days. Society demands they be pretty, extremely thin and still willing to be at the beck and call of men. I don't say that we should not be talking about and changing these attitudes. All I'm saying is that we haven't done enough talking about what is expected of the other half of the population.
From where I sit, it seems that society is demanding that men be even more rugged and muscular than ever before. The ideal man may have lost the cigarette and the can of beer, but he is still required to have just the right amount of hair, be no less than five foot seven and able to lift a Volkswagen.
Men are still supposed to avoid crying in public, especially in front of other men. We are supposed to hold all of our emotions, while at the same time show that we are sensitive. Did I miss something here? Aren't those two things diametrically opposite?
When asked, women often say that they are looking for personality and a sense of humour in a man. Right! Only if it comes in just the right package. They will often overlook what is obviously a lack of social skills, like being able to string more than three words together, for rock hard abs.
If all of this sounds a little bitter, I'll be truthful (One of the REAL measures of masculinity.) and admit that I am. I heard all of the old cliches when I was younger. "You're a nice guy, but... Can't we just be friends... I'm not looking for a relationship right (stares at "hot guy" going down hall) now." You get the picture.
To me, the man I always wanted to be was handsome, yes, but much more.
I think a true man is one who is honest to the people around him, but honest to himself too. He doesn't delude himself into thinking he knows everything. If a MAN gives his word, he keeps it, or demands the consequences. Real men are concerned with the reputation that goes with his name, and the name of his family. That is one of the old standards that I will stick by.
A real man is not afraid to tell you when he is sad, scared or worried. He won't burden you with his problems, but when the time is right, he will cry honest tears. He will call for help when he is in over his head. There is nothing wrong with showing your feelings, and so much trouble to be had when they are bottled in. For one thing, that is not being honest with the people around you.
I said that a real man will call for help when he gets in over his head. That said, I think a proper man does his best to stay out of that situation. He thinks before letting his temper or his pride get the better or him. Trying to jump your bike over a ditch on a dare is not bravery, boys, it's stupidity. Learn the difference!
There is a lot to be said for a guy who can stand out on his own for what he knows to be right, even when the people around him cannot. That independence is what separates us from herd animals.
There is the true measure of a man. It's the things that can't be seen or put into numbers. What does a man stand for? As the song goes, "You've got to stand for something, or you'll fall for anything./You've got to be your own man, not a puppet on a string." When my time on this world is over, I want to have stood for something, an idea that is far bigger than me. Before I am scattered to the winds and waves, I want people to remember me as being "a husband, a son, a brother, a neighbour and a good man."
I haven't always lived up to my best ideals, but I am trying.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Parenting (as seen by a childless man)
Today I want to quickly refer all of you back to my post about apathy.
I was visiting with my mother, shortly after writing that letter. I was telling her that I had discussed the topic briefly with Pastor, and that the letter was the result. When I described to her the content, she was rather surprised at how closely our viewpoints were on the topic.
I just call that proper parenting. To my way of thinking, your child should wind up with your values, or be opposed to those values.
Look at it this way, if parents have done their job right, they have instilled values and morals by example, and by providing consequences when the child does wrong. When the proper example is shown, and reinforced by the larger community, (Hilary was right, it does take a community to raise a child.) then the kid should grow up carrying those same ideals. Kids absorb so much in the first five years of their lives, and parents are the primary source.
On the other hand, it is possible for a child to see the examples of his or her parents, and decide that those behaviours or morals are not right. This usually happens when children get out into the larger world of school and playmates. This is the critical time for parenting, if you want a child to behave in a certain way. When a child sees that his or her parents are behaving in a way that society deems wrong, he or she will either defend the family way, since these are his or her parents, or decide that society must be right.
Changes of values within a family don't come out of nowhere. There has to be a clear reason for the child to turn his or her back on the teachings of a young lifetime.
There are some values of my father's that I have not chosen to follow, and some of my mother's that I left behind as well. These things aren't bones of contention, they are just beliefs that I hold differently from them. I accept their right to believe as they do, and act accordingly. They have awarded me the same respect, because I have earned it by being the best man that I can be.
What it all boils down to is that parenting should have a kind of miraculous appearance. When done right, it should seem like the parent has done nothing at all. When the child turns out right, and the parents agree with his or her decisions, they should be surprised. When the child has gone a little off the path that they would have chosen, the parents should take a look at what they have done and said, and then decide if maybe the kid made a wrong turn. They aren't necessarily the cause of the mistakes, but it never hurts to look first, and then question.
For the most part, I think parenting is a matter of leading by example, and answering questions as honestly and openly as possible. Don't try to raise the perfect child. Try to raise your child as best you can, and then leave it to them to finish the job. You may be surprised at just how well things will turn out in the end.
I was visiting with my mother, shortly after writing that letter. I was telling her that I had discussed the topic briefly with Pastor, and that the letter was the result. When I described to her the content, she was rather surprised at how closely our viewpoints were on the topic.
I just call that proper parenting. To my way of thinking, your child should wind up with your values, or be opposed to those values.
Look at it this way, if parents have done their job right, they have instilled values and morals by example, and by providing consequences when the child does wrong. When the proper example is shown, and reinforced by the larger community, (Hilary was right, it does take a community to raise a child.) then the kid should grow up carrying those same ideals. Kids absorb so much in the first five years of their lives, and parents are the primary source.
On the other hand, it is possible for a child to see the examples of his or her parents, and decide that those behaviours or morals are not right. This usually happens when children get out into the larger world of school and playmates. This is the critical time for parenting, if you want a child to behave in a certain way. When a child sees that his or her parents are behaving in a way that society deems wrong, he or she will either defend the family way, since these are his or her parents, or decide that society must be right.
Changes of values within a family don't come out of nowhere. There has to be a clear reason for the child to turn his or her back on the teachings of a young lifetime.
There are some values of my father's that I have not chosen to follow, and some of my mother's that I left behind as well. These things aren't bones of contention, they are just beliefs that I hold differently from them. I accept their right to believe as they do, and act accordingly. They have awarded me the same respect, because I have earned it by being the best man that I can be.
What it all boils down to is that parenting should have a kind of miraculous appearance. When done right, it should seem like the parent has done nothing at all. When the child turns out right, and the parents agree with his or her decisions, they should be surprised. When the child has gone a little off the path that they would have chosen, the parents should take a look at what they have done and said, and then decide if maybe the kid made a wrong turn. They aren't necessarily the cause of the mistakes, but it never hurts to look first, and then question.
For the most part, I think parenting is a matter of leading by example, and answering questions as honestly and openly as possible. Don't try to raise the perfect child. Try to raise your child as best you can, and then leave it to them to finish the job. You may be surprised at just how well things will turn out in the end.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Naked Mole Rap
A clip from my favourite, juvenile pastime. Too bad real naked mole rats are so butt ugly!
Friday, January 25, 2008
Hope
Yesterday's post was a diatribe on the topic of apathy, the lack of caring by a person for the others about them or society at large.
Let's look on the other side of the fence today. Even where you find apathy, there is always the chance to find hope. Where there is even one person who can see the world around him or her, there is the chance for change.
I have begun to see a lot of hope for the world our children will create from what we leave them. Children are learning about the mistakes that we have made, and learning from them. We may have been slow at first, to see the signs of what man has done to the world, but now that the ball is rolling, things will be done to make amends at a quickly increasing rate.
Twenty years ago, who ever heard of recycling? Now, every home does some part in conserving resources. We are creating newer, cleaner products every day, because people can see, and demand that companies give them that option. Sometimes it takes a little economic push to get people to overcome the inertia of the way they have always done things. Now, we care, and all sides of our society are feeling the push.
I begin to see the economy in a better light, despite what the news says about recessions. We are learning to do more with less. I have high hopes that the new industries of waste recycling, environmentally friendly energy and telecommunication (beyond the marvels that we have now) will eventually make a world where all of us can put our talents to best use, and not have to worry about where that next meal is coming from.
I can even foresee a day when war has run it's course. Violence may long be a part of us, we descended from hunters after all, but we will get past that. As harming others no longer gets us what we desire in this world, and the differences between us grow smaller, what would be the advantage of trying to destroy? Religious fundamentalism is the last thing that the world will go to war over. Even that will become too weak a reason to kill, in a few generations time.
By way of example, I give you the Protestant/Catholic battles of northern Ireland. It was thought that neither side would ever give up that battle, until one side had wiped the other off the landscape. Fighting has given way to talking out differences, and realization that there is more in common. The last generation of street warriors howl, knowing that the end is near. I predict the same for the Islamic Fundamentalists and the extreme right-wing Christian movements. We might have to listen to them whine, but in a few generations, they well go out, not with a bang of bombs, but a whimper of old men who did not get their way.
The world gives us glimpses of what it can be, if only we open our eyes and do what we know to be right. When each of us does that, there is hope. Every child born could be the one who makes that hope a reality. Does our salvation walk among us even now?
Let's look on the other side of the fence today. Even where you find apathy, there is always the chance to find hope. Where there is even one person who can see the world around him or her, there is the chance for change.
I have begun to see a lot of hope for the world our children will create from what we leave them. Children are learning about the mistakes that we have made, and learning from them. We may have been slow at first, to see the signs of what man has done to the world, but now that the ball is rolling, things will be done to make amends at a quickly increasing rate.
Twenty years ago, who ever heard of recycling? Now, every home does some part in conserving resources. We are creating newer, cleaner products every day, because people can see, and demand that companies give them that option. Sometimes it takes a little economic push to get people to overcome the inertia of the way they have always done things. Now, we care, and all sides of our society are feeling the push.
I begin to see the economy in a better light, despite what the news says about recessions. We are learning to do more with less. I have high hopes that the new industries of waste recycling, environmentally friendly energy and telecommunication (beyond the marvels that we have now) will eventually make a world where all of us can put our talents to best use, and not have to worry about where that next meal is coming from.
I can even foresee a day when war has run it's course. Violence may long be a part of us, we descended from hunters after all, but we will get past that. As harming others no longer gets us what we desire in this world, and the differences between us grow smaller, what would be the advantage of trying to destroy? Religious fundamentalism is the last thing that the world will go to war over. Even that will become too weak a reason to kill, in a few generations time.
By way of example, I give you the Protestant/Catholic battles of northern Ireland. It was thought that neither side would ever give up that battle, until one side had wiped the other off the landscape. Fighting has given way to talking out differences, and realization that there is more in common. The last generation of street warriors howl, knowing that the end is near. I predict the same for the Islamic Fundamentalists and the extreme right-wing Christian movements. We might have to listen to them whine, but in a few generations, they well go out, not with a bang of bombs, but a whimper of old men who did not get their way.
The world gives us glimpses of what it can be, if only we open our eyes and do what we know to be right. When each of us does that, there is hope. Every child born could be the one who makes that hope a reality. Does our salvation walk among us even now?
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Apathy
This is a letter I wrote to the Pastor of the church that I volunteer for. I thought that it might be of interest to some of you.
Good morning Pastor,
Yesterday you brought up a very interesting subject, and I am afraid that I brushed it off rather lightly, with a flippant remark and then a very simplistic answer. You were quite right to think about the root causes of apathy, and I have been doing so since that conversation.
Whole books and internet threads (if you are familiar with the concept) have been written discussing the way society and individuals become apathetic towards their communities and fellow man. It would be a long conversation (at least seven pots of coffee) indeed for us to even make a dent into the topic.
Without a context to put your question in, I have thought of a few things about the cause of apathy in today's society.
As I said, where the individual is concerned, a lot of apathy stems from the way we are raised. When a young child is not encouraged to take a part in any kind of decision making, or helping others, they develop a personality that believes that everything will be taken care of for them. We, as parents and family, have to lead by example, and show the next generation HOW to care. You have done so, to a great extent within the family of your Parish, as seen by the results you have garnered for the Foodbank.
Another cause of apathy among people is the belief that we cannot make a difference. We ask ourselves, "What is the point of one vote? I'm only one person, so what can I do?" You gave the example in your sermon of the "ripple effect". That is what life is all about, and why each one of us is put on this earth.
When I was a boy, my cousin Ashley died of SIDS before the age of three. I asked myself then about the value of a life, it could be taken from us so quickly. In time, my Faith answered that even in her short time with us, Ashley had made her mark on those around her. There is no such thing as an untimely death, Pastor, only one that goes unnoticed by the majority. I firmly believe that my cousin and her older sister (who died in a tragic house fire) had both fulfilled their mission here on earth, and so God took them back to Himself.
Excuse me a moment, as I always cry still to think of the loss of Tara Dawn. There was so much I had yet to share with her.
Anyway, all life serves to affect the life around it. As Buddha said, all things are connected. You cannot take one piece out of the puzzle, one thread from the tapestry without destroying the beautiful picture that God has woven. Even as we care for one life, we care for the whole of creation.
Today, we have a whole other set of causes for apathy. We are brought up to "mind our own business". We shy away form our duty to the Universe for fear of hurt, both physical and emotional. All of us are guilty of saying, "That has nothing to do with me, it is somebody else's job."
People value their independence very highly, and we are brought up, rightly, to respect that value. What happens when we take that respect beyond reason? Eventually we start to turn a blind eye toward the needs of our neighbours. As they suffer, we walk by and say, "It isn't my business to interfere." When we see a bully picking on a smaller child, we only too often say, "Let the kid stick up for himself." It is high time that we took note of our neighbour's plight. The fate of mankind is the business of all of mankind. Just as Jacob Marley declared to Ebeneezer Scrooge.
In a world that is so full of war, pain and death, we are quick to turn away from the things we see around us. It is easier and "safer" to keep our eyes on the home and hearth. We live now in a world where we have to have laws to protect people who try to help within their means, because they will be sued at the drop of a hat. The "Good Samaritan" law is a prime example of attempting to easy the apathy of society. When you have to legislate good works, you know there is a problem.
We would hope that all of us have faith in both God and our fellow man. Unfortunately, we rely too much on higher authorities. It is the job of the government to take care of things. We somehow expect God to solve our problems with no input from us. The Lord only helps those who help themselves. Beyond that, God often sends His help in the form of our fellow man. Many is the guardian angel has appeared in my life in the guise of family, friends and complete strangers. In our turn, we must act as the angel sent in another's time of need.
Apathy is a very intense subject. In my psychology studies, we didn't have time to do much with it. It is something we each have to grapple with on an individual basis. Only when we tackle our own shortcomings can we ever hope to enrich the society around us.
Please forgive the long-winded nature of this e-mail, but you gave me great food for thought, and fodder for several blog posts.
Your friend,
Joe
Good morning Pastor,
Yesterday you brought up a very interesting subject, and I am afraid that I brushed it off rather lightly, with a flippant remark and then a very simplistic answer. You were quite right to think about the root causes of apathy, and I have been doing so since that conversation.
Whole books and internet threads (if you are familiar with the concept) have been written discussing the way society and individuals become apathetic towards their communities and fellow man. It would be a long conversation (at least seven pots of coffee) indeed for us to even make a dent into the topic.
Without a context to put your question in, I have thought of a few things about the cause of apathy in today's society.
As I said, where the individual is concerned, a lot of apathy stems from the way we are raised. When a young child is not encouraged to take a part in any kind of decision making, or helping others, they develop a personality that believes that everything will be taken care of for them. We, as parents and family, have to lead by example, and show the next generation HOW to care. You have done so, to a great extent within the family of your Parish, as seen by the results you have garnered for the Foodbank.
Another cause of apathy among people is the belief that we cannot make a difference. We ask ourselves, "What is the point of one vote? I'm only one person, so what can I do?" You gave the example in your sermon of the "ripple effect". That is what life is all about, and why each one of us is put on this earth.
When I was a boy, my cousin Ashley died of SIDS before the age of three. I asked myself then about the value of a life, it could be taken from us so quickly. In time, my Faith answered that even in her short time with us, Ashley had made her mark on those around her. There is no such thing as an untimely death, Pastor, only one that goes unnoticed by the majority. I firmly believe that my cousin and her older sister (who died in a tragic house fire) had both fulfilled their mission here on earth, and so God took them back to Himself.
Excuse me a moment, as I always cry still to think of the loss of Tara Dawn. There was so much I had yet to share with her.
Anyway, all life serves to affect the life around it. As Buddha said, all things are connected. You cannot take one piece out of the puzzle, one thread from the tapestry without destroying the beautiful picture that God has woven. Even as we care for one life, we care for the whole of creation.
Today, we have a whole other set of causes for apathy. We are brought up to "mind our own business". We shy away form our duty to the Universe for fear of hurt, both physical and emotional. All of us are guilty of saying, "That has nothing to do with me, it is somebody else's job."
People value their independence very highly, and we are brought up, rightly, to respect that value. What happens when we take that respect beyond reason? Eventually we start to turn a blind eye toward the needs of our neighbours. As they suffer, we walk by and say, "It isn't my business to interfere." When we see a bully picking on a smaller child, we only too often say, "Let the kid stick up for himself." It is high time that we took note of our neighbour's plight. The fate of mankind is the business of all of mankind. Just as Jacob Marley declared to Ebeneezer Scrooge.
In a world that is so full of war, pain and death, we are quick to turn away from the things we see around us. It is easier and "safer" to keep our eyes on the home and hearth. We live now in a world where we have to have laws to protect people who try to help within their means, because they will be sued at the drop of a hat. The "Good Samaritan" law is a prime example of attempting to easy the apathy of society. When you have to legislate good works, you know there is a problem.
We would hope that all of us have faith in both God and our fellow man. Unfortunately, we rely too much on higher authorities. It is the job of the government to take care of things. We somehow expect God to solve our problems with no input from us. The Lord only helps those who help themselves. Beyond that, God often sends His help in the form of our fellow man. Many is the guardian angel has appeared in my life in the guise of family, friends and complete strangers. In our turn, we must act as the angel sent in another's time of need.
Apathy is a very intense subject. In my psychology studies, we didn't have time to do much with it. It is something we each have to grapple with on an individual basis. Only when we tackle our own shortcomings can we ever hope to enrich the society around us.
Please forgive the long-winded nature of this e-mail, but you gave me great food for thought, and fodder for several blog posts.
Your friend,
Joe
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
The aging work force
There are days when I just take life by the horns and get on with it. The last few days just haven't been one of them. It's hard enough just getting the energy to turn off the alarm clock. I guess we all have days like that once in a while. It's just my turn is all.
Then there are those days when I get up with a purpose in mind. For example, today I'm going to work at the church, while Sandra is at her hairdresser's getting her hair thinned and cut. If there is a job that needs doing, or someplace I need to be, it's not nearly so hard to get out from under the covers. There is a lot to be said for an active life. Or at least a busy one.
That is where so many people make a critical mistake in life. They work fifty-plus years towards their retirement, and then suddenly find themselves with nothing to do. My father-in-law made that mistake, and consequently died of a heart attack from eating fatty foods and lack of exercise.
Retirement planning should be more about what you want to do than how much money you have put away to do it. After all, how can you know if you will be able to afford retired life if you haven't planned how to spend that time? There is a great commercial on television, where a couple go in to the bank to discuss their retirement plan with the investment banker. He thinks that retirement is all about sitting around reading the paper and taking it easy. Meanwhile, she is holding up signs, saying that they will take tennis lessons and tour Brazil.
I think that, now that people are living so much longer, retirements have to be thought out a little better. It might not be such a good idea to just stop working simply because you are sixty-five. If you really like what you do, and are good at it, why stop? Maybe just cut down the workload to where it's more of an occupation than a job. There is a lot the older worker has to offer today's labour pool.
When you think about it, our population is very much in the process of getting older. A lot of the skilled trades people are reaching the age where they cannot continue the heavy work they did. Is there any reason that some of the older folks couldn't handle some of this new information age stuff, and the young people learn to work with their hands? In a very short time, finding a decent mechanic or machinist is going to be like trying to find a doctor.
I just hope that some older people will be willing to stay in the labour pool when the baby boomers are all hitting retirement age. If not, there is going to be one labour shortage, and I don't think we can bring in enough help from foreign countries to cover the gaps. As I say, there are signs of it already. If the government doesn't start accepting foreign trained, we are in deep trouble.
This post didn't go anywhere like the way I thought it would. Still, that might be for the better.
Then there are those days when I get up with a purpose in mind. For example, today I'm going to work at the church, while Sandra is at her hairdresser's getting her hair thinned and cut. If there is a job that needs doing, or someplace I need to be, it's not nearly so hard to get out from under the covers. There is a lot to be said for an active life. Or at least a busy one.
That is where so many people make a critical mistake in life. They work fifty-plus years towards their retirement, and then suddenly find themselves with nothing to do. My father-in-law made that mistake, and consequently died of a heart attack from eating fatty foods and lack of exercise.
Retirement planning should be more about what you want to do than how much money you have put away to do it. After all, how can you know if you will be able to afford retired life if you haven't planned how to spend that time? There is a great commercial on television, where a couple go in to the bank to discuss their retirement plan with the investment banker. He thinks that retirement is all about sitting around reading the paper and taking it easy. Meanwhile, she is holding up signs, saying that they will take tennis lessons and tour Brazil.
I think that, now that people are living so much longer, retirements have to be thought out a little better. It might not be such a good idea to just stop working simply because you are sixty-five. If you really like what you do, and are good at it, why stop? Maybe just cut down the workload to where it's more of an occupation than a job. There is a lot the older worker has to offer today's labour pool.
When you think about it, our population is very much in the process of getting older. A lot of the skilled trades people are reaching the age where they cannot continue the heavy work they did. Is there any reason that some of the older folks couldn't handle some of this new information age stuff, and the young people learn to work with their hands? In a very short time, finding a decent mechanic or machinist is going to be like trying to find a doctor.
I just hope that some older people will be willing to stay in the labour pool when the baby boomers are all hitting retirement age. If not, there is going to be one labour shortage, and I don't think we can bring in enough help from foreign countries to cover the gaps. As I say, there are signs of it already. If the government doesn't start accepting foreign trained, we are in deep trouble.
This post didn't go anywhere like the way I thought it would. Still, that might be for the better.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Mid-winter blahs
I can't believe how fast time has been slipping by. Just a few days ago, we were in the depths of winter, today, I look out the window and see wonderful sunshine that lasts past five o'clock.
Actually, what got me thinking about it was looking at the calendar. Valentine's day is rushing at us so fast, I can see heart shaped cards flying.
Time does seem to go fast, at any rate.
In previous posts, I have written about the relativity of time. Let's not get into that again.
I am so looking forward to spring now though. I don't know why it is that I get sick of winter long about February. This is the first year we've even had a proper winter, Canadian style. Maybe a trip south for a few days would take care of that problem. My uncle pretty much lives in Florida for the winter.
That's an expensive proposition though. You have to be rich or a kid on Spring Break to hit the southern beaches at this time of year.
I'll just look forward to the weeks to come. Winter will end soon enough, and then I can debate breaking out the fishing gear.
Actually, what got me thinking about it was looking at the calendar. Valentine's day is rushing at us so fast, I can see heart shaped cards flying.
Time does seem to go fast, at any rate.
In previous posts, I have written about the relativity of time. Let's not get into that again.
I am so looking forward to spring now though. I don't know why it is that I get sick of winter long about February. This is the first year we've even had a proper winter, Canadian style. Maybe a trip south for a few days would take care of that problem. My uncle pretty much lives in Florida for the winter.
That's an expensive proposition though. You have to be rich or a kid on Spring Break to hit the southern beaches at this time of year.
I'll just look forward to the weeks to come. Winter will end soon enough, and then I can debate breaking out the fishing gear.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
My place and thanks for it.
I have to say, I live a pretty good life on the whole, being such a young man. I don't have too much expected of me, in terms of commitments. As long as I don't burden anyone and look after my wife, I'm pretty much left to my own devices.
I was in Church this morning, and most of the congregation are older or at least middle aged. These are people with a lot of responsibility on their shoulders. Especially when you consider that some of them are farmers, with families to look after. I always feel the debt of respect that I owe to my elders.
I may not be able to contribute much, but I do so willingly, when I think about what the generations previous to my own have given to the community. Too many of my peers are quick to dismiss the ties to the past. It is inconvenient to spend time with those who aren't on the fast track, who aren't in the technological loop. It's a shame to see young people making mistakes that could so easily be averted just by taking advantage of the experience around them.
Years ago, that advantage was always at hand. Extended families were always close by, and children, while expected to be polite and quiet, were privy to the conversations of the adults. A lot was quietly learned while sitting in parlours. How much of that learning was ever taken to heart is up for debate. Now, people don't get out and socialize nearly as much, and children don't have the examples of maturity to live up to.
I have been marginally accepted into the world of the older gentlemen of the church. They are quite comfortable speaking to me about matters of importance, or the trivial things that come up in any societal group. It is very much a relief to me not to be so much of an outsider.
I was in Church this morning, and most of the congregation are older or at least middle aged. These are people with a lot of responsibility on their shoulders. Especially when you consider that some of them are farmers, with families to look after. I always feel the debt of respect that I owe to my elders.
I may not be able to contribute much, but I do so willingly, when I think about what the generations previous to my own have given to the community. Too many of my peers are quick to dismiss the ties to the past. It is inconvenient to spend time with those who aren't on the fast track, who aren't in the technological loop. It's a shame to see young people making mistakes that could so easily be averted just by taking advantage of the experience around them.
Years ago, that advantage was always at hand. Extended families were always close by, and children, while expected to be polite and quiet, were privy to the conversations of the adults. A lot was quietly learned while sitting in parlours. How much of that learning was ever taken to heart is up for debate. Now, people don't get out and socialize nearly as much, and children don't have the examples of maturity to live up to.
I have been marginally accepted into the world of the older gentlemen of the church. They are quite comfortable speaking to me about matters of importance, or the trivial things that come up in any societal group. It is very much a relief to me not to be so much of an outsider.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Our Taffy, an update from the vet and from home
Nothing terribly profound to talk about today.
The other week, Sandra and I took the oldest of our cats to the vet for a check up. The doctor said that she is as healthy as can be. She has lost a lot of the pudge that she used to have. The only place he noted could use a little improvement was her teeth. There is a bit of tartar at the back.
While she has gotten a little more sleek, Taffy has somehow managed to gain half a pound! Go figure. The only thing that we and the vet could think of is that she has replaced body fat with still more muscle. After all, in this apartment, she and her sister can chase each other to their hearts content.
That's all we need, Taffy with more muscle! Her tail is already a lethal weapon. She is a very strong cat. Given a dog twice her size, I'd put my money down on Taffy in a scrap.
We are very proud of our little girl. Normally she would hiss and bite at the vet the whole time during an examination. She didn't even think of trying to bit the doctor. Sure, she meowed her displeasure, but she was very good during the whole visit. The vet said that she seems to be mellowing with age. Maybe, but I'd still leave the original picture on her chart, the one with her in the back of her carrier, snarling at the camera! Forewarned is forearmed!
On the other hand, these days she comes to me every morning, wanting to be brushed. It used to be I couldn't get anywhere near her with a brush. Now I pull out huge wads of dead, grey fur. Taffy lies at my feet, while I am on the throne, and purrs like a small outboard motor while I run an old hair brush over her coat. She positively shines nowadays.
I've really run on here about Taffy. Don't get the impression that we don't love our Isabelle just as much. I'm just very much amazed by the changes in Taffy since we moved into the new apartment.
The other week, Sandra and I took the oldest of our cats to the vet for a check up. The doctor said that she is as healthy as can be. She has lost a lot of the pudge that she used to have. The only place he noted could use a little improvement was her teeth. There is a bit of tartar at the back.
While she has gotten a little more sleek, Taffy has somehow managed to gain half a pound! Go figure. The only thing that we and the vet could think of is that she has replaced body fat with still more muscle. After all, in this apartment, she and her sister can chase each other to their hearts content.
That's all we need, Taffy with more muscle! Her tail is already a lethal weapon. She is a very strong cat. Given a dog twice her size, I'd put my money down on Taffy in a scrap.
We are very proud of our little girl. Normally she would hiss and bite at the vet the whole time during an examination. She didn't even think of trying to bit the doctor. Sure, she meowed her displeasure, but she was very good during the whole visit. The vet said that she seems to be mellowing with age. Maybe, but I'd still leave the original picture on her chart, the one with her in the back of her carrier, snarling at the camera! Forewarned is forearmed!
On the other hand, these days she comes to me every morning, wanting to be brushed. It used to be I couldn't get anywhere near her with a brush. Now I pull out huge wads of dead, grey fur. Taffy lies at my feet, while I am on the throne, and purrs like a small outboard motor while I run an old hair brush over her coat. She positively shines nowadays.
I've really run on here about Taffy. Don't get the impression that we don't love our Isabelle just as much. I'm just very much amazed by the changes in Taffy since we moved into the new apartment.
Friday, January 18, 2008
And then it dawned
I was up rather late reading last night, as usual, when I had something of an epiphany. It occurred to me that, regardless of where I am and my state in life, I will always have something to offer. It may not seem much at the time, but even the little things can make the largest difference.
Even my blog is something to contribute. In as much as it gets read by a few people around me.
When I was working for the Pastor, I realized that even the small jobs that I do just for the sake of doing them mean something to somebody. That actually came home yesterday, when I worked alone at the church, because the Pastor had to be away. It's all about making the lives around you just a little better.
I may never raise a child, or save a life in some dramatic fashion, but just being there when I am needed My path will find me, not the other way around.
Even my blog is something to contribute. In as much as it gets read by a few people around me.
When I was working for the Pastor, I realized that even the small jobs that I do just for the sake of doing them mean something to somebody. That actually came home yesterday, when I worked alone at the church, because the Pastor had to be away. It's all about making the lives around you just a little better.
I may never raise a child, or save a life in some dramatic fashion, but just being there when I am needed My path will find me, not the other way around.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Um, er, what was that again?
Please note: my brain had gone on vacation for the last few days. This may not be noticeable to most of you. In the event that I say something of value, a face mask will drop from the ceiling, allowing you to breathe normally.
I just thought I'd put that little disclaimer in there to see how many of you were paying attention.
For a little while now, I've been feeling kinda grey. There is nothing that really gets me going during the day. I'm wondering if maybe the affect of caffeine has been eliminated somehow by my body. My mind doesn't wander so much as just kinda slips out of gear and into neutral.
Poor Sandra has an awful time when I'm like this. She can turn and say something to me, and I'll sit as if in a trance. Usually, this only occurs when I am reading. Lately, I will just zone out on her once in a while. This has to be very exasperating, especially when there are only the two of us in the apartment. Many is the time she has said something, and I have asked her to repeat herself, and been told, "Oh, never mind!"
It could be that winter has finally caught up with me on a mental level. Not being able to get out into the fresh air may have me a little stale. I know I always feel a bit more alert after going out into sunshine and fresh, scent laden breezes. Last summer, I used to go for a nightly walk around the block, and that made all the difference in the world. For one thing, Sandra didn't have to look at my face for an hour or so.
Let's see what happens when the warmer weather comes, and we can get out more often. Maybe holding the old fishing rod again will restore my brain to normal functioning. (Whatever that is for a guy.) In the meanwhile, I beg your indulgence for a while if my posts ramble a bit more than usual.
I just thought I'd put that little disclaimer in there to see how many of you were paying attention.
For a little while now, I've been feeling kinda grey. There is nothing that really gets me going during the day. I'm wondering if maybe the affect of caffeine has been eliminated somehow by my body. My mind doesn't wander so much as just kinda slips out of gear and into neutral.
Poor Sandra has an awful time when I'm like this. She can turn and say something to me, and I'll sit as if in a trance. Usually, this only occurs when I am reading. Lately, I will just zone out on her once in a while. This has to be very exasperating, especially when there are only the two of us in the apartment. Many is the time she has said something, and I have asked her to repeat herself, and been told, "Oh, never mind!"
It could be that winter has finally caught up with me on a mental level. Not being able to get out into the fresh air may have me a little stale. I know I always feel a bit more alert after going out into sunshine and fresh, scent laden breezes. Last summer, I used to go for a nightly walk around the block, and that made all the difference in the world. For one thing, Sandra didn't have to look at my face for an hour or so.
Let's see what happens when the warmer weather comes, and we can get out more often. Maybe holding the old fishing rod again will restore my brain to normal functioning. (Whatever that is for a guy.) In the meanwhile, I beg your indulgence for a while if my posts ramble a bit more than usual.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
The fashion don't that I am
It was a nice day today. Sandra and I decided to go for a bit of a drive, since we had to go out for some spaghetti sauce anyway. I figured I'd go into Wal-Mart and get a new dress shirt. Somehow, I lost my favourite shirt just after we moved.
I don't know what it is, but I am partial to short sleeves. It might have something to do with all of the time that I have spent in kitchens. Let's face it, long, white sleeves and marinara sauce just don't mix. On the other hand, any food item that can spill, white shirts and myself do not go together. Sandra, the poor dear, is ready to ban me from owning anything white. She always says that she can dress me up, but she can't take me anywhere.
I still think the nicest shirts I've ever owned have been the over sized dress shirts (with short sleeves) and the golf shirt that I once got at the thrift store. It was so large, it almost came down to my knees. I like the freedom to move in my clothing. The biggest problem I've found is getting shirts that fit me across the shoulders without being the length of night shirts. Not that I mind length, to be honest.
This may be one of the strangest posts I've ever written.
I think the main point here (does there really have to be one?) is that I dress very much for comfort. Fashions come and go, but the ability to sit without scratching at your collar is forever. I've never been one to keep up with the fad of the day. In high school, I once spent a year dressing in old security guard shirts. A neighbour got rid of them by letting me take them. I wore the things out.
The only thing I have against the way I look in my dress shirts and ties is that I look very much like Drew Carey!
I don't know what it is, but I am partial to short sleeves. It might have something to do with all of the time that I have spent in kitchens. Let's face it, long, white sleeves and marinara sauce just don't mix. On the other hand, any food item that can spill, white shirts and myself do not go together. Sandra, the poor dear, is ready to ban me from owning anything white. She always says that she can dress me up, but she can't take me anywhere.
I still think the nicest shirts I've ever owned have been the over sized dress shirts (with short sleeves) and the golf shirt that I once got at the thrift store. It was so large, it almost came down to my knees. I like the freedom to move in my clothing. The biggest problem I've found is getting shirts that fit me across the shoulders without being the length of night shirts. Not that I mind length, to be honest.
This may be one of the strangest posts I've ever written.
I think the main point here (does there really have to be one?) is that I dress very much for comfort. Fashions come and go, but the ability to sit without scratching at your collar is forever. I've never been one to keep up with the fad of the day. In high school, I once spent a year dressing in old security guard shirts. A neighbour got rid of them by letting me take them. I wore the things out.
The only thing I have against the way I look in my dress shirts and ties is that I look very much like Drew Carey!
Monday, January 14, 2008
Equines
My parents' neighbour used to own a couple of horses. For as long as I can remember, there were always a few of the animals in the area I grew up in. The last pair spent as much time at our fence as they did nearer the stable.
I've often thought to myself that I would like to have the money and space to keep a matched pair, broken to a carriage. I used to love getting into the saddle, but that isn't something I could really manage on my own anymore. With a little cooperation on the part of the horse, I could hitch one up well enough.
Horses are such magnificent animals. They have that natural beauty and grace of movement. Some guys look at a car and see the ultimate ride. Not me. I see a well muscled horse and dream of taking the reins up. There could never be a real comparison, as far as I am concerned. Practicality be hanged.
It is very expensive to keep horses, of course. They must be seen by a vet each year, and a farrier every couple of months, especially if ridden as often as they should be, or driven over modern roads. Feeding a horse is not a cheap proposition either. Good grain is at a premium just now. It's not like you can just turn a working horse into a field and say, "There you go, eat up!"
Horses are a great commitment too. They really need to be tended to properly every day. Brushing your steed gets him used to your smell and voice. Some cold dark day, you might need to calm the animal, and if all it knows of you is hard work, that just isn't going to happen. It is every bit the relationship that most people have with their dog or cat.
One of the biggest bonuses of a horse and carriage for me would be taking my wife and mother-in-law for Sunday afternoon rides. When she was a girl, my mother made trips to and from her parents' farm each week when school was in. Buses couldn't get to the farm, so she stayed with her grandmother. The idea of sitting behind a hitched team appeals to her in a big way.
Now, I cannot afford the extravagance of horses, but it is one of the nicest dreams that I might have of an evening.
I've often thought to myself that I would like to have the money and space to keep a matched pair, broken to a carriage. I used to love getting into the saddle, but that isn't something I could really manage on my own anymore. With a little cooperation on the part of the horse, I could hitch one up well enough.
Horses are such magnificent animals. They have that natural beauty and grace of movement. Some guys look at a car and see the ultimate ride. Not me. I see a well muscled horse and dream of taking the reins up. There could never be a real comparison, as far as I am concerned. Practicality be hanged.
It is very expensive to keep horses, of course. They must be seen by a vet each year, and a farrier every couple of months, especially if ridden as often as they should be, or driven over modern roads. Feeding a horse is not a cheap proposition either. Good grain is at a premium just now. It's not like you can just turn a working horse into a field and say, "There you go, eat up!"
Horses are a great commitment too. They really need to be tended to properly every day. Brushing your steed gets him used to your smell and voice. Some cold dark day, you might need to calm the animal, and if all it knows of you is hard work, that just isn't going to happen. It is every bit the relationship that most people have with their dog or cat.
One of the biggest bonuses of a horse and carriage for me would be taking my wife and mother-in-law for Sunday afternoon rides. When she was a girl, my mother made trips to and from her parents' farm each week when school was in. Buses couldn't get to the farm, so she stayed with her grandmother. The idea of sitting behind a hitched team appeals to her in a big way.
Now, I cannot afford the extravagance of horses, but it is one of the nicest dreams that I might have of an evening.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Missed purposes
I spent the better part of last night wondering if maybe I somehow missed my calling. Which isn't to say that I have any clue what I should have been doing with my life by now. There is just this nagging little suspicion that I made a wrong turn somewhere, and the job I was put on this planet to do, got lost along the way.
The thing of it is, if I had made a different turn at most key points, I never would have found my wife. Granted, I would never have know that, but now that I do, I couldn't think of any other path.
Is it possible to go back and figure out where you were meant to wind up? We all say that we would do things differently, knowing what we know now. The problem with that idea is that time only flows one direction. Even if it could reverse, the physics would prevent you from ever remembering how things turned out the first time around. The scars in our brain tissue that form our memories would be wiped away as everything else reversed.
That might be a little bit hard to picture.
Think of it like this, our days are like words and pictures drawn on a blackboard in a school. We start (at least in the English language) on the left side of the board, and write to the opposite side. If we were to reverse time, letters would be lifted from the board and the chalk redeposited on the stick.
Whoa, that was deep.
What I have been trying, in my usual round-about way to say, is that there was a job that I was supposed to do when I was born, some way that my life was supposed to affect something. While there is no proof of it, that work feels incomplete to me, somehow. It would be so much easier if our lives came with instruction manuals.
Then again, most guys would never read theirs anyway.
The thing of it is, if I had made a different turn at most key points, I never would have found my wife. Granted, I would never have know that, but now that I do, I couldn't think of any other path.
Is it possible to go back and figure out where you were meant to wind up? We all say that we would do things differently, knowing what we know now. The problem with that idea is that time only flows one direction. Even if it could reverse, the physics would prevent you from ever remembering how things turned out the first time around. The scars in our brain tissue that form our memories would be wiped away as everything else reversed.
That might be a little bit hard to picture.
Think of it like this, our days are like words and pictures drawn on a blackboard in a school. We start (at least in the English language) on the left side of the board, and write to the opposite side. If we were to reverse time, letters would be lifted from the board and the chalk redeposited on the stick.
Whoa, that was deep.
What I have been trying, in my usual round-about way to say, is that there was a job that I was supposed to do when I was born, some way that my life was supposed to affect something. While there is no proof of it, that work feels incomplete to me, somehow. It would be so much easier if our lives came with instruction manuals.
Then again, most guys would never read theirs anyway.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Ministry
As some of you may know, I do some work for the Pastor (I always capitalize that.) at the church my wife and I were married at. It isn't anything super critical. I write up letters and prepare bulletins, that sort of thing. All the same, I learn a little bit about the life of a minister each time.
This week's lesson was one of the harder ones, while it should naturally be obvious. There was a death in the parish the other day. What this means is that everything else that has been planned gets set on a back burner. I wasn't particularly able to help with anything to do with the funeral. I just had to keep on with the work at hand, and let the Pastor deal with it.
This, I think will be the true test of my worth as her assistant. Can I do the job without her being able to constantly review my work? Especially as regards the writing of correspondence in her name, when she has no time to really look at it. There is much I can't do without her input. As a volunteer, that isn't my real problem. My job is to do what I am able to pick up the things that I can and will let her get past this weekend.
I don't think too many of us realize just how much is involved in being a minister. Lord above knows that I didn't until I started doing some of this work for her. A minister is responsible for the well-being of hundreds of people. It is his or her duty to tend the ill, without showing shock or pity. They assist the poor, without lowering their self esteem. The minister binds a community's ills as best he or she is able, without seeming like a busybody. All of this, plus being a living compass, a guide in living a life benefiting society.
I have to wonder sometimes if that isn't the problem with the Catholic Priesthood. It is a heavy responsibility to have so many souls relying on you. I mean that in a secular fashion, not the religious. Such a large portion of the community looks to the parish priest to lead in all social programs. Priests are asked to live lives apart from their flocks, and yet to set the best possible example. They are asked to join souls in matrimony, and never know that experience for themselves. How are they to counsel a couple having difficulties? How are they to understand the pressures of life on a child a generation removed form their memories?
My grandmother, on my father's side, had high hopes that I would become a priest. She will likely roll over in her grave when I say that I am so glad that I did not. While I will never know the joy of having my own children to raise, I could not imagine my life without my marriage. There are so many things that I cannot agree with the Catholic Church about, I have had a difficult enough time just trying to be a lay catholic.
Religion is a subject that I have to look at from the perspective of psychology. Being an assistant to Pastor is as far as I can go. Life as a minister... No, I don't think so, I couldn't handle that much responsibility.
This week's lesson was one of the harder ones, while it should naturally be obvious. There was a death in the parish the other day. What this means is that everything else that has been planned gets set on a back burner. I wasn't particularly able to help with anything to do with the funeral. I just had to keep on with the work at hand, and let the Pastor deal with it.
This, I think will be the true test of my worth as her assistant. Can I do the job without her being able to constantly review my work? Especially as regards the writing of correspondence in her name, when she has no time to really look at it. There is much I can't do without her input. As a volunteer, that isn't my real problem. My job is to do what I am able to pick up the things that I can and will let her get past this weekend.
I don't think too many of us realize just how much is involved in being a minister. Lord above knows that I didn't until I started doing some of this work for her. A minister is responsible for the well-being of hundreds of people. It is his or her duty to tend the ill, without showing shock or pity. They assist the poor, without lowering their self esteem. The minister binds a community's ills as best he or she is able, without seeming like a busybody. All of this, plus being a living compass, a guide in living a life benefiting society.
I have to wonder sometimes if that isn't the problem with the Catholic Priesthood. It is a heavy responsibility to have so many souls relying on you. I mean that in a secular fashion, not the religious. Such a large portion of the community looks to the parish priest to lead in all social programs. Priests are asked to live lives apart from their flocks, and yet to set the best possible example. They are asked to join souls in matrimony, and never know that experience for themselves. How are they to counsel a couple having difficulties? How are they to understand the pressures of life on a child a generation removed form their memories?
My grandmother, on my father's side, had high hopes that I would become a priest. She will likely roll over in her grave when I say that I am so glad that I did not. While I will never know the joy of having my own children to raise, I could not imagine my life without my marriage. There are so many things that I cannot agree with the Catholic Church about, I have had a difficult enough time just trying to be a lay catholic.
Religion is a subject that I have to look at from the perspective of psychology. Being an assistant to Pastor is as far as I can go. Life as a minister... No, I don't think so, I couldn't handle that much responsibility.
Friday, January 11, 2008
More on the house of dreams
I think I need to clarify a little what I meant in my last post. Specifically what I meant about the difference between a "dream house" and a "house of dreams". I got to thinking about it, and maybe that wasn't put too well yesterday.
A dream house is very much a thing of reality. A lot of building companies design these things, in the hopes that some of the qualities will catch on and be added to conventional houses. A dream house is all about the amenities. Whirlpool baths, expensive tiles, those are the trappings of a dream house.
The house of dreams is something altogether different. They don't usually exist in reality. There is no address for such a thing, though you can make up fanciful names for them. A house of dreams is all about a sense, a feeling. It is the rooms that you see yourself in when you have your happiest of dreams. In such a house, the rooms don't need to have a sensible layout, never mind all of the up to date appliances.
There is a middle ground of course. I like to draft up floor plans and elevations. To do a proper job of it, you have to take into account the lifestyle of the prospective occupants. That includes the feeling that they want. I like to live with someone in my imagination before I ever put a pencil to paper. (You have to admit, you can't actually live with someone for the length of time it would take to know their dreams.)
A lot of architects these days design around one aspect of peoples' lives. Kitchens seem to be the big thing these days. That and entertainment centres. A couple of decades ago, it was all about the car. Houses were garages with boxes attached to them. None of it had to do with the feeling that people wanted to let their HOME give off. Curb appeal meant nothing. It is no small relief to me to see the revival of the front porch.
Anyway, I hope that clarifies the whole idea of a house of dreams for you.
A dream house is very much a thing of reality. A lot of building companies design these things, in the hopes that some of the qualities will catch on and be added to conventional houses. A dream house is all about the amenities. Whirlpool baths, expensive tiles, those are the trappings of a dream house.
The house of dreams is something altogether different. They don't usually exist in reality. There is no address for such a thing, though you can make up fanciful names for them. A house of dreams is all about a sense, a feeling. It is the rooms that you see yourself in when you have your happiest of dreams. In such a house, the rooms don't need to have a sensible layout, never mind all of the up to date appliances.
There is a middle ground of course. I like to draft up floor plans and elevations. To do a proper job of it, you have to take into account the lifestyle of the prospective occupants. That includes the feeling that they want. I like to live with someone in my imagination before I ever put a pencil to paper. (You have to admit, you can't actually live with someone for the length of time it would take to know their dreams.)
A lot of architects these days design around one aspect of peoples' lives. Kitchens seem to be the big thing these days. That and entertainment centres. A couple of decades ago, it was all about the car. Houses were garages with boxes attached to them. None of it had to do with the feeling that people wanted to let their HOME give off. Curb appeal meant nothing. It is no small relief to me to see the revival of the front porch.
Anyway, I hope that clarifies the whole idea of a house of dreams for you.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Homes, not houses
I got to do a little dreaming again before going to sleep last night. Every now and then, I like to take what I've been reading, or talked about during the day, and throw it into a small daydream, and just see where it goes.
Last night, I thought about my "house of dreams", not to be confused with a "dream house". A dream house is one of those places that are massive, with just every little convenience and thing you could want. My house of dreams though, isn't quite the same. A house of dreams is a place that is a home first, and the structure isn't exactly important.
First of all, I cannot have my "house of dreams" without my wife in it. It just wouldn't be my house. She is as much a part of me as my left arm (being a southpaw) and I couldn't imagine it otherwise. That is the first and most vital component.
The next thing about my house of dreams is the feeling. As soon as one crosses the threshold, the outside world should fail to exist for them. Their problems wait outside in the cold and dark, while all of their best dreams and hopes come in to be shared. There is no lock on that door. No one would dream of entering in a spirit of malice. It is home to everyone, even if just for a short time. When you have once come through, you are family.
My parents home was very much like that. We kids could bring just any Johnny or Jane home and they would instantly just be one of the family. My best friend says that he came to visit, and wound up being adopted. We are the black hole of families, once you get inside our sphere, it takes a huge amount of effort to get out.
The only "thing" that I put into my dream house is a comfortable room with a fireplace and shelves of books. There are rocking chairs, an easy chair and a couple of window seats in that room. There are spaces to curl up and read, write and dream. Around that fireplace, intimate secrets can be safely told and funny stories related for the enjoyment of all.
This might strike most of you as incredibly fanciful. It is a great fantasy though, built on the foundation of the feeling that I used to have at my parents' house. It is no longer "mine" of course, but when things are right, that is where our own "house of dreams" usually starts.
Last night, I thought about my "house of dreams", not to be confused with a "dream house". A dream house is one of those places that are massive, with just every little convenience and thing you could want. My house of dreams though, isn't quite the same. A house of dreams is a place that is a home first, and the structure isn't exactly important.
First of all, I cannot have my "house of dreams" without my wife in it. It just wouldn't be my house. She is as much a part of me as my left arm (being a southpaw) and I couldn't imagine it otherwise. That is the first and most vital component.
The next thing about my house of dreams is the feeling. As soon as one crosses the threshold, the outside world should fail to exist for them. Their problems wait outside in the cold and dark, while all of their best dreams and hopes come in to be shared. There is no lock on that door. No one would dream of entering in a spirit of malice. It is home to everyone, even if just for a short time. When you have once come through, you are family.
My parents home was very much like that. We kids could bring just any Johnny or Jane home and they would instantly just be one of the family. My best friend says that he came to visit, and wound up being adopted. We are the black hole of families, once you get inside our sphere, it takes a huge amount of effort to get out.
The only "thing" that I put into my dream house is a comfortable room with a fireplace and shelves of books. There are rocking chairs, an easy chair and a couple of window seats in that room. There are spaces to curl up and read, write and dream. Around that fireplace, intimate secrets can be safely told and funny stories related for the enjoyment of all.
This might strike most of you as incredibly fanciful. It is a great fantasy though, built on the foundation of the feeling that I used to have at my parents' house. It is no longer "mine" of course, but when things are right, that is where our own "house of dreams" usually starts.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Prints
I think there is an unwritten rule that says you will print out a page three times before you get it just right. Everytime I print something, there are major flaws in it. Either there was a cat hair in the printer, or I have made an error in the copy.
From now on, when I even think about printing off something, I'm going to have at least three sheets of paper available. I can count on a lot of recycling.
From now on, when I even think about printing off something, I'm going to have at least three sheets of paper available. I can count on a lot of recycling.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
January thaw
Over the last couple of days, we've gotten the annual January thaw. Much of the lawn is bare, and the snowbanks have that dirty grey look. It's just enough to make one lose heart with winter. If any of you Americans have ever wondered why older Canadians have flocked to the shores of Florida at this time of year, consider the effect of that much dampness on the senior skeleton.
The big advantage to all of this, however, is that those crazy snow piles are also in the process of melting down. There have been times when I wondered if I was going to be able to get out to the car.
I was walking back from the garage earlier this morning, when I saw the squirrels running around. They were checking up on the food they had stashed away in the fall. During the heavy snow fall, there wasn't a creature to be seen for the most part. I even heard a couple of birds stirring about. Everything is waking up long enough to get out and stretch for a bit.
Very few animals in North America truly hibernate. Even bears will get up once in a while during the winter, given a warm spell like this one. Sometimes I wish that I were still out in the country, so that I could look about and try to find signs of my forest neighbours. Wildlife has the ability to make you stop and just watch for a while, like the rest of the world doesn't exist for those few seconds.
Once, when I was a young boy, I was sitting in a drainage ditch, contemplating building a fort there for the summer. All of a sudden, four deer, two doe and two yearlings, rushed over my head. Once I got over the initial scare, I sat for several minutes in awe of the speed and beauty of the animals. The whole idea of a fort was forgotten.
The January thaw is a bit of a break for all of the wild things, a chance to get to food without having to dig for it so much.
If you are seeing any such weather, keep your eyes open. Who knows what you will see. A caveat though, keep your garbage sealed tight. The skunks and raccoons are making an appearance as well.
The big advantage to all of this, however, is that those crazy snow piles are also in the process of melting down. There have been times when I wondered if I was going to be able to get out to the car.
I was walking back from the garage earlier this morning, when I saw the squirrels running around. They were checking up on the food they had stashed away in the fall. During the heavy snow fall, there wasn't a creature to be seen for the most part. I even heard a couple of birds stirring about. Everything is waking up long enough to get out and stretch for a bit.
Very few animals in North America truly hibernate. Even bears will get up once in a while during the winter, given a warm spell like this one. Sometimes I wish that I were still out in the country, so that I could look about and try to find signs of my forest neighbours. Wildlife has the ability to make you stop and just watch for a while, like the rest of the world doesn't exist for those few seconds.
Once, when I was a young boy, I was sitting in a drainage ditch, contemplating building a fort there for the summer. All of a sudden, four deer, two doe and two yearlings, rushed over my head. Once I got over the initial scare, I sat for several minutes in awe of the speed and beauty of the animals. The whole idea of a fort was forgotten.
The January thaw is a bit of a break for all of the wild things, a chance to get to food without having to dig for it so much.
If you are seeing any such weather, keep your eyes open. Who knows what you will see. A caveat though, keep your garbage sealed tight. The skunks and raccoons are making an appearance as well.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Writing style
I think lately that I have been given to flights of printed fantasy. Blame it on my most current reading material. There is nothing quite so inspiring to the imagination as the adventures of a rather flighty young woman trying to imagine her future.
On the other hand, I really shouldn't let such things get in the way of my own writing. I need my writing to be in my own person, not a dim copy of Lucy Maud Montgomery. Heaven knows I have imagination enough of my own. Just ask around.
My talents do not lie in the realm of fictional writing though. I've started stories, but I just can't describe the events and settings in my mind. Sure they come out easily enough, but they sound trite and formulaic. Maybe my imagination isn't so very much my own after all. It could be that all of my fantasies are borrowed. After all, I do so much reading.
I have discovered that my style of writing is very much more formal. I write a wonderful letter. My grandmother loves to receive the short ones that I write to her. In my work for the Pastor, I have written letters to be circulated among high officials both inside and outside of the church. One of those letters has even been sent, with minimal alteration, to the office of the Prime Minister of Canada.
My posts here have been very much my opinion on numerous subjects. That is really the point of blogging. I just beg your indulgence when I do go off into my little flights of imagination.
On the other hand, I really shouldn't let such things get in the way of my own writing. I need my writing to be in my own person, not a dim copy of Lucy Maud Montgomery. Heaven knows I have imagination enough of my own. Just ask around.
My talents do not lie in the realm of fictional writing though. I've started stories, but I just can't describe the events and settings in my mind. Sure they come out easily enough, but they sound trite and formulaic. Maybe my imagination isn't so very much my own after all. It could be that all of my fantasies are borrowed. After all, I do so much reading.
I have discovered that my style of writing is very much more formal. I write a wonderful letter. My grandmother loves to receive the short ones that I write to her. In my work for the Pastor, I have written letters to be circulated among high officials both inside and outside of the church. One of those letters has even been sent, with minimal alteration, to the office of the Prime Minister of Canada.
My posts here have been very much my opinion on numerous subjects. That is really the point of blogging. I just beg your indulgence when I do go off into my little flights of imagination.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Imagination and print
I have always been a very big reader. As anyone in my family will tell you, if you see me with a book in my hand, you would do well to make an appointment to ask me anything. Russia could have dropped the "big one" during the cold war and I wouldn't have noticed.
Lately, I have been re-reading some of the stories I read as a boy. Specifically, I am currently going over the "Anne of Green Gables" series again, and what I can find in the local library of the "Little House" books. Any guy reading this has immediately declared me gay. That's okay, it's their problem, not to mention loss. Both are wonderful sets of stories.
I used to think that Laura and her family used to have such scrapes and adventures out on the prairies of the old west. Then I read the Anne books, and realized the messes that a truly imaginative person can create for themselves.
The imagination is a powerful thing. It allows me to actually picture the characters I like so much to read about, without having to rely on their television and movie incarnations. I will grant that they did come close with Anne Shirley, but Brother Cadfael isn't quite as I would have pictured him in the BBC series of television shows.
Which brings me to the variety of stories that I have long been a fan of. Some people seem to enjoy only fictional drama, romance or westerns. Let's not even get started on the obsession of science fiction fanatics. Myself, I have been from the Ice Age of Jane Auel's books to the future as envisaged by Issac Asimov. I have been to the streets of New York, and manor houses of feudal England.
That is what real reading is to me. It is a visit to other places and times. My imagination finds me a small corner of the scenery to fit myself into, observing the characters without interacting with them. From the time I was a child, I took myself to all of the places that I could never see otherwise. I know how hard the work was on the American frontier. I know that we will have to work hard to overcome the mistakes we make today and in the future.
Perhaps my imagination isn't strong enough to create such clear pictures for others, but it is definitely powerful enough to put me in the places that others have been in.
Some days, reality just has to wait its turn.
Lately, I have been re-reading some of the stories I read as a boy. Specifically, I am currently going over the "Anne of Green Gables" series again, and what I can find in the local library of the "Little House" books. Any guy reading this has immediately declared me gay. That's okay, it's their problem, not to mention loss. Both are wonderful sets of stories.
I used to think that Laura and her family used to have such scrapes and adventures out on the prairies of the old west. Then I read the Anne books, and realized the messes that a truly imaginative person can create for themselves.
The imagination is a powerful thing. It allows me to actually picture the characters I like so much to read about, without having to rely on their television and movie incarnations. I will grant that they did come close with Anne Shirley, but Brother Cadfael isn't quite as I would have pictured him in the BBC series of television shows.
Which brings me to the variety of stories that I have long been a fan of. Some people seem to enjoy only fictional drama, romance or westerns. Let's not even get started on the obsession of science fiction fanatics. Myself, I have been from the Ice Age of Jane Auel's books to the future as envisaged by Issac Asimov. I have been to the streets of New York, and manor houses of feudal England.
That is what real reading is to me. It is a visit to other places and times. My imagination finds me a small corner of the scenery to fit myself into, observing the characters without interacting with them. From the time I was a child, I took myself to all of the places that I could never see otherwise. I know how hard the work was on the American frontier. I know that we will have to work hard to overcome the mistakes we make today and in the future.
Perhaps my imagination isn't strong enough to create such clear pictures for others, but it is definitely powerful enough to put me in the places that others have been in.
Some days, reality just has to wait its turn.
Friday, January 4, 2008
First post of 2008
Happy New Year everyone! Sorry that I haven't posted of late. I've received some complaints about it from my wife and family.
I'm not sure just what to write about though. I've already done the snow thing, and how they keep burying the car in on me. Besides, I'm just Canadian enough to take the weather as it comes, and maybe even enjoy it a little. It was so amusing to see the neighbourhood kids toboggan down the pile that has been made by the company that cleans out the parking lot.
We are also experiencing another problem with the car, one made worse by me. That too, is old fodder.
I'd like to write about something new to go along with the new year.
I have some high hopes for this year. I don't have anything specific yet, but I think there will be a lot of good things coming up.
For one thing, my student loan, long in default, will finally be paid off this year. That will mean a significant amount of money in our pockets each month. I've been sitting on this debt, paying what I can, for the best part of two decades now. I've never made enough money in a year to make a dent into the debt.
I have also just seen an ad for an administrative assistant for a local law firm. I am going to stick my neck out and apply for the position, though I don't have any office experience at all. They merely need somebody who can organize and type. You can all attest to my ability to do the latter. If I could get a real job, I think we could maybe get somewhere.
Whatever comes this year, I will do my best to make it a good one. Stay tuned.
I'm not sure just what to write about though. I've already done the snow thing, and how they keep burying the car in on me. Besides, I'm just Canadian enough to take the weather as it comes, and maybe even enjoy it a little. It was so amusing to see the neighbourhood kids toboggan down the pile that has been made by the company that cleans out the parking lot.
We are also experiencing another problem with the car, one made worse by me. That too, is old fodder.
I'd like to write about something new to go along with the new year.
I have some high hopes for this year. I don't have anything specific yet, but I think there will be a lot of good things coming up.
For one thing, my student loan, long in default, will finally be paid off this year. That will mean a significant amount of money in our pockets each month. I've been sitting on this debt, paying what I can, for the best part of two decades now. I've never made enough money in a year to make a dent into the debt.
I have also just seen an ad for an administrative assistant for a local law firm. I am going to stick my neck out and apply for the position, though I don't have any office experience at all. They merely need somebody who can organize and type. You can all attest to my ability to do the latter. If I could get a real job, I think we could maybe get somewhere.
Whatever comes this year, I will do my best to make it a good one. Stay tuned.
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