Author: edebock

Channelling my inner W.O.

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When I wrote about the things I like about winter, I mentioned that we auditioned for parts in W.O. Mitchell’s play, The Black Bonspiel of Wullie MacCrimmon, last week. I didn’t get the part I wanted but I wasn’t overly surprised or as disappointed as I thought I’d be.

Flagstaff Players has always had trouble recruiting men. We usually pick scripts with fewer male roles than female but this time we really went out on a limb. Black Bonspiel has nine male roles and only one female one! Could we do it, we wondered. Amazingly, men came out of the woodwork and we had no problem filling all nine roles! Competition for the one female role was fierce, however, so I knew that my chances weren’t great.

One of the reasons that I’m not too disappointed is the fact that Richard scored the lead role! He’s playing Wullie MacCrimmon himself! I’m so delighted for him that my disappointment pales in comparison. I’ve had lots of lead roles but this will be his first.

The second reason that I’m not feeling crushed is that I think the directors did an excellent job of casting the female role. It went to one of my former students, a delightful young woman who was an active participant in the high school drama club back in the days when Melaina and Nathan were involved. Following high school, she went on to become a teacher and it was she who was hired to take my position when I retired! We acted together in A Christmas Carol two years ago and I know that she’ll do a wonderful job.

I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed though. I love to act and I really wanted that role. The friend who phoned to give us the news knew that and tried to soften the blow by telling me that they were looking at writing in some bit parts for some of the women who auditioned and didn’t get roles and that I would definitely have one of those. That’s not what I wanted but what could I do? I could wallow in self pity, I could accept the situation gracefully or I could channel my inner W.O.

Not only do I love to act; I love to write. What if I put the two together and wrote my own part? That’s the idea that hit me late last night when I couldn’t sleep. The part of Lucy Tregellis was an obvious one. She’s really Mitchell’s creation, not my own. She actually appears in the script but only in disparaging remarks made by the other female character. What if we brought her to life and put her onstage? I knew it could be done without changing W.O.’s story line and I knew I could do it. I messaged the directors and they loved the idea. It will only be a bit part but it will be mine, all mine, the first role I’ve ever written for myself!

First snow

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Winter’s first snow fell this morning; tiny flakes sifting down and gathering on the streets and between the grass. I’m not a fan of winter. Here in Alberta, it’s long and bone chilling cold with temperatures that drop well below -30 Celsius (-22 Fahrenheit). This year’s snow came late. It’s often here before Halloween and it doesn’t melt away again until sometime in April. Roads are often icy and travel can be treacherous. I almost did a full circle in an intersection this afternoon and that’s with good winter tires on!

It’s easy to dwell on the negatives but this year, as winter approached, I began thinking about the things that I like about winter. It’s not a very long list but here are a few.

Winter sunrises

I’m sure that there are beautiful sunrises at other times of the year but that’s another thing about Alberta, long hours of daylight in the summer and equally long hours of darkness in the winter. I’m never up early enough to see the sun come up in the summer but, as difficult as it is to crawl out of bed in the dark of winter, I’m often rewarded with a glorious sunrise.

Cross country skiing

Winter can be pretty depressing but when the weather allows, getting outdoors and getting active is invigorating. There’s nothing better than the swish of my skis under a crystal blue sky with snow sparkling all around me to lift my spirits.

Drama

Drama is my other favourite winter activity. This winter’s play will be The Black Bonspiel of Wullie MacCrimmon, a story about curling, the quintessential Canadian winter sport. More than a few curling fanatics would consider selling their souls to the devil for a chance to compete in the national championship known as the Brier. Set in small town Alberta in the 1930s, W.O. Mitchell’s hilarious story tells what happens when main character, Wullie MacCrimmon, has the opportunity to do just that! Auditions were held on Wednesday evening and now I wait to find out whether or not I get the role I really want.

Boots

Last but not least, one of the best things about winter is boots. I’m not sure why but I really like wearing boots! My absolute favourites are my old well-worn brown leather ankle boots. I loved them the moment I first saw them and was thrilled when Richard gave them to me for Christmas many years ago. They’ve been reheeled and resoled and fit like a glove. Then there’s my brand new pair of tall black fashion boots. The slouched look and the strap detail around the heel give them an edgy look that I really like. Of course, when the temperature plunges neither of these pairs would keep my feet from freezing for long so I also have my trusty Cougars. With warm insulated lining and deeply treaded rubber soles, they’ll easily take me through the long snowy winter that lies ahead.

      

 

The haunted house… two years later

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It’s time for my yearly rant about the monstrosity across the street. I figure that since I wrote about it last Halloween as well as the one before, I might as well make it an annual tradition, at least until something is done about it. Imagine looking out your front window at this year after year!

We used to joke about the flock of pigeons that lived in the house and suggest that someone should put up a sign at the entrance to town advertising it as the world’s largest birdhouse. That was before I read an article in the Edmonton Journal last April about a New Brunswick woman who is permanently blind after contracting cryptococcal meningitis, a potentially fatal disease that is carried by pigeon feces. When I realized that the birds posed such a significant health hazard, I wrote a letter to the town and included a link to the article. There was no response until a month later after we talked to a town councillor at senior golf one morning. The very next day, I received an email from the town administrator apologizing for failing to respond and assuring me that the town was “trying to work through the legal issues to have a successful conclusion to this long-standing situation”. There was no mention of the pigeons and they continued to inhabit the house until sometime after we left for Saipan in June. Had they still been there when we returned in August, we would have lodged a complaint with Alberta Health. I’m not sure what took place during our absence. We still see the occasional pigeon perched atop the roof but they’re not flying in and out anymore and we no longer hear the house cooing when we step outside our door.

Late last month, we met the mayor while we were out for a walk. She told us that the property owner had been given until the end of September to begin work on the exterior of the house (siding, garage doors and landscaping) or the town would have it done and charge him for it. Since he’d ignored every deadline he’d been given in the past, we didn’t hold out much hope but there was a flurry of activity for 2 or 3 days at the very end of the month. Most of the time, he appeared to be pressure washing the inside of the house. Getting rid of pigeon poop, no doubt! As far as the exterior is concerned, he replaced one small piece of board that was badly deteriorated and applied house wrap to a small corner of the lower storey. It looks like it was hung by a group of kindergarten kids and I’m sure the only reason that it wasn’t torn off by the first strong wind that came along is the fact that that part of the house is so well sheltered.

Apparently, he must feel that that should be enough to satisfy the town as he hasn’t been back to do anything else! Sadly, given what we’ve seen so far, he might be right.

We’re at our wits end wondering what to do. Obviously complaining to the town does no good. At this point, I’d just like to see the eyesore torn down but how do we accomplish that?

What influences your sense of self-worth?

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This post has been brewing for awhile. In fact, I started it once, discarded it and now I’m starting it again. Richard and I are doing a weekly Bible study with two other couples using Charles F. Stanley’s How to Reach Your Full Potential for God. One of last week’s questions resulted in some serious self examination.

What influences your sense of self-worth?

The study guide offered the following list of possible responses:

  • ___  entertainment
  • ___  relationships
  • ___  education
  • ___  hobbies
  • ___  goals
  • ___  possessions
  • ___  employment
  • ___  appearance
  • ___  service
  • ___  God
  • ___  other: ______________

I don’t have a problem with low self-esteem. In fact, I feel pretty darn good about myself. Many factors on this list contribute to that: healthy, affirming relationships; hobbies like writing and drama; and of course, my relationship with God, to name just a few.

At the bottom of the list, my “other” is my children. I am so proud of the fine young adults that they’ve become and it irks me when people say “You’re so lucky that your kids turned out so well”. I have news for you, folks! It isn’t luck! Parenting well is hard work. I know that there are no guarantees and even some of the best parents have troubled kids but I believe that I (we) did a great job and yes, knowing that definitely adds to my feelings of self-worth.

So why is it that something as superficial as appearance influences my sense of self-worth so strongly? The next question in the study guide asked “In what areas of life are you most likely to compare yourself to others?” and I had to admit to myself that for me it was appearance. I know that this is true of women in general but why? This question has led to a lot of soul searching on my part.

Donloree onstage

One of my favourite bloggers is figure competitor, Donloree Hoffman of Bikini or Bust. As I’ve followed her blog for the past year, I’ve come to the conclusion that I, too, am a figure competitor. Oh, I’ll never stand onstage in a spray tan and a bespangled bikini (too many stretch marks and scars from multiple abdominal surgeries make that an impossibility) but I compete with other women all the time. I’ve come to the realization that it’s not my hair, my make-up or my clothes that I look at when I’m comparing myself to others; it’s my body, my physique. I don’t look at a healthy, fit looking woman and think ‘I wish I looked like her’. In fact, I can truly appreciate and admire a well toned body. No, it’s the overweight, out of shape women that make me feel like a winner! How pathetic is that? I’m absolutely certain that this attitude doesn’t please my God, the one who created each one of us and who loves us just the way we are.

Twiggy

But why do I feel this way? I think there are many reasons. Our culture, of course, teaches young girls and women to value physical beauty above even good health. I grew up in the age of Twiggy, the emaciated looking fashion model of the 1960s. She became an instant sensation and suddenly, skinny was beautiful. In those days, my mom was overweight. She wasn’t obese but she definitely carried a few more pounds than she should have. “Just wait until you’ve had babies,” she’d tell me. “You’ll look like this too.” No, never, I vowed to myself! My father, who exercised regularly, often gave her a hard time about her weight. Is it any wonder that I grew up thinking that thin equalled beautiful? Then came marriage to a porn addict. Obviously I had to compete physically, or at least that’s what I told myself. Those are all things of the distant past now, but clearly they had a profound impact and helped shape who I am today.

So, what does all this soul searching and self-evaluation mean? Am I going to stop striving toward a better physical body? Absolutely not! There are many very good reasons to continue eating clean and exercising regularly. I believe that I am “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14). God has blessed me with a healthy body and I plan to do the best I can to keep it that way. I hope to live for another 30 years or more and I want them to be good years filled with action and adventure. Staying physically fit has so many benefits. No, that’s not something I’m about to change. I feel good and I like what I see in the mirror!  What I do hope to change is my attitude. From now on, I want to look at other women, even those who are obese and those who haven’t taken care of themselves, with compassion. I want to see the beauty that God sees in them and I don’t want my sense of self-worth to depend on them any longer.

So, now that I’ve bared my soul, let me ask what influences your sense of self-worth?

Thank you, Mr. Geary

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Though the move from Vancouver to Yellowknife at the end of my grade 11 year was a very traumatic one for me and led to some of the worst days of my life, there was a silver lining and his name was Mr. Geary.

John (Jack) Geary was my English 30 and Economics 30 teacher at Sir John Franklin High School in Yellowknife and though he probably never knew it, he had a profound impact on my life. I don’t remember much about my final year of high school. In fact, I don’t even remember my own graduation but I do remember the teacher who gave me the gift of writing, Mr. Geary.

Mr. Geary believed that it was his job to prepare us to write the kinds of papers that we’d have to write if we went on to university. A lot of my classmates didn’t like him because he made us write and write and then write some more but with his encouragement and nurturing, a lifelong love of writing was born in me. Over forty years later, I still have all the papers I wrote for Mr. Geary.

Our first assignment was to write a comparison between Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness and a second novel of our choice from a list that we were given. I still remember how overwhelmed I felt. I’d never faced such a challenging assignment before and I really didn’t know what this new teacher expected. I chose Lord of the Flies by William Golding as my second novel only because I’d already studied it back in BC the year before. There had to be some advantage to changing school systems midstream and I wasn’t above taking advantage of them!

I found Heart of Darkness a difficult read but I soon noticed that both plot and theme seemed quite similar to those of Lord of the Flies so that’s what I wrote about. I had no idea if I was on the right track and I still remember how nervous I was when I handed in my paper, wondering if I had any chance of getting a decent grade. As it turned out, it was more than decent; it was the top mark in the class but it was Mr. Geary’s comment at the end that set me on the road to becoming a writer.

A thoroughly intelligent piece of criticism, Elaine – perceptive & lucid, far more so than I could have managed! Good work indeed.

Mr. Geary wrote encouraging comments at the end of all my papers but he also pointed out errors and ways that I could improve my writing. It didn’t take him long to get to know me either. When, a little later in the term, I decided to play the devil’s advocate and take a stand that I didn’t actually believe in, he saw right through me and his comment read

Plausibly argued, Elaine, although it could contain greater conviction.

I had already decided that I wanted to be a teacher before I met Mr. Geary but I chose secondary English as my major because I visualized myself teaching high school English the way he did. As it turned out, I never did teach English at the high school level but Mr. Geary’s legacy lived on in many other ways. As a university student, I’d certainly used the skills he’d nurtured and then later, as a young stay-at-home Mom I dusted off my love of writing and had several freelance articles published. I thought that that would continue but when I returned to teaching school, there weren’t enough hours in the day for writing. I discovered that passing on my love for reading and writing to my students fulfilled the same need in me. Then came retirement and blogging! I don’t need to sell my writing to feel fulfilled by it. I just need to know that others enjoy reading it. Just as I loved flipping to the end of my English 30 papers to read Mr. Geary’s comments, I enjoy the affirmation that comes with the comments that are left on my blog.

As a retired school teacher, I realize that we seldom know the long term impact that we’ve had on our students and how affirming it is when many years later we do receive positive feedback from one of them. That’s why, for many years, I’ve wished that I could contact Mr. Geary and thank him for his impact on my life. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to do that. It isn’t for lack of trying. I’ve Googled his name numerous times, searched for him on Facebook and inquired about him on the Sir John Franklin High School Alumni page. To the best of my knowledge, he returned to his native Australia not long after I knew him. If he’s still alive, I’m guessing that he’d be in his late 70’s or early 80’s by now. I know that he had children but they were much younger than me and I don’t remember their names so I can’t find him by searching for them. So, unless I can find another way to contact him and thank him personally, I guess this tribute will have to do.

Thank you, Mr. Geary, from the bottom of my heart!


Adventures with Sam

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There are so many fun things that you can do with a two year old; things that might otherwise look quite silly for a woman of mature vintage. Sliding down playground slides, shuffling through coloured leaves, bouncing on a bouncy log across a forest path and crouching low to examine a grasshopper or a slug are just part of the fun when you’re on an adventure with Sam.

When harvest finished early this fall, we decided to make an unplanned trip to Vancouver to see the new house that Matt and Robin recently moved into. Built in the early 60’s, the house needed quite a bit of attention. Renovating with a two year old and an eight month old underfoot is an enormous challenge so entertaining the children has been one of the ways we’ve been able to help out a bit. That’s definitely not a hardship for this Gram and Grandpa!

Living on Vancouver’s North Shore, one is never far from nature. In fact, the forest is just a block and a half away from the new house so walks in the woods, along with throwing stones in the creek, have been great fun. There’s also a playground just across the street.

The weather has been much better than we expected which has made going on adventures truly enjoyable. One day was much too wet, however, so we visited an indoor playground at one of the malls.

On Saturday, the whole family went off on an adventure to the Pumpkin Patch at the local elementary school. Sam and Nate wore matching dinosaur costumes made by Mom.

We’re heading for home tomorrow so we went on our final adventure this morning; mini golf. As the son and grandson of avid golfers, Sam has been introduced to the game at a very early age. He even has his very own putter!

We’re going to miss our boys when we leave but we’ll be back and ready for more adventures at Christmas time!

Full circle

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In 1969, I was a grade 11 student at Argyle Secondary School in North Vancouver, BC. I was looking forward to graduating with my friends and heading off to UBC to study education. Those plans were dashed when my father accepted a job in Yellowknife, NWT and my parents refused to allow me to stay behind and spend my final year of high school living with my best friend’s family.

I had no intention of staying in Yellowknife any longer than I absolutely had to. I would return to the coast as soon as school was out and carry on with my plan to attend UBC. Life doesn’t always go according to plan, however, and I never did make it back to the coast to live.  Uprooted and rebellious, my life became a series of bad decisions culminating in an unhappy and short-lived marriage.

I did go to university and fulfill my dream of becoming a teacher but since I’d wasted the first year after high school, I decided to attend the University of Calgary where I could get the degree I wanted in four years instead of UBC where it would have taken five. Life went on. I settled on the Alberta prairie, married again and started a family.

Jump ahead about 30 years to 2006. That’s the year that our oldest son married, settled in Vancouver and entered law school at UBC. I hadn’t made it back to the coast but a whole generation later, Matthew had! He and Robin lived in a charming condo in Richmond until a couple of months ago when, having outgrown the condo by adding two adorable little grandsons to our family, they purchased a house and moved in. That house is located in North Vancouver just around the corner from Argyle Secondary School!

As I sit here in their livingroom, I feel as if I have finally come home! I gaze out the window across the creek that runs through their beautiful back yard and I see the roof of my school. I walk the streets that I walked as a teenager and, though many things have changed, they feel so very familiar. Life has come full circle and I am happy!

 

35 years!

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October 2, 1976

Today is our 35th wedding anniversary! 35! Wow! That’s a big number. How is it possible that that many years have passed by? Are we really old enough to have been married that long?

Apparently we are. All we have to do is look at our kids, all successful young adults, all of them now older than we were when we got married, to realize that yes, indeed, the time has flown.

35 years! Wow! Years of heartache, years of joy, years of work and now, years of play! We didn’t plan anything special for today but Richard’s card to me says Let’s do a winter holiday! That’s going to be our anniversary celebration and gift to one another. We haven’t decided where to go or exactly when but it will be somewhere warm with palm trees and sandy beaches and it will happen when the snow is deep on the ground here at home.

So do I have any words of wisdom about what it takes to keep a marriage going for 35 years? Not really. I do know that sometimes it’s hard work and I also know that having the Lord at the centre of our lives has been the cement that has kept us going and growing together.

When we were in Japan in February, our Valentine’s celebration included a beautiful marriage dinner at Hope Church. Each couple was given a laminated copy of twelve great marriage quotes that Pastor Steve had put together. When we were back in August, we saw them hanging in some of our friend’s homes. Ours has a permanent spot on the front of our fridge. I think they’re well worth sharing.

Great Marriage Quotes

  1. The more you invest in your marriage, the more valuable it becomes.
  2. Marriage is more than finding the right person. It is being the right person.
  3. In marriage, each partner is to be an encourager rather than a critic, a forgiver rather than a collector of hurts, an enabler rather than a reformer.
  4. Happy marriages begin when we marry the one we love, and they blossom when we love the one we marry. In other words, choose your love and love your choice.
  5. When love and skill work together, expect a masterpiece.
  6. A good marriage is the union of two good forgivers.
  7. Ultimately the bond of all companionship is communication.
  8. Be the president of each other’s fan clubs.
  9. What counts in making a happy marriage is not so much how compatible you are, but how you deal with your incompatibility.
  10. The first duty of love is to listen.
  11. When it comes to your marriage, if the grass looks greener somewhere else, it’s time to water your own yard.
  12. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through all circumstances.  1 Corinthians 3:7

What can I say?

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My heart is heavy today.

In July of 1982, our four-year-old daughter was diagnosed with leukemia. Initially, she responded well to the treatments and the disease was soon in remission. It didn’t last. On Oct. 5, my 30th birthday, we were told that she had relapsed. That led to an eight week stay in the children’s cancer ward at the University Hospital in Edmonton. Shortly after we arrived, I met another young couple from Sedgewick in the hospital corridor. Robie was a former student of mine and I knew her husband, Perry, vaguely. They were carrying their infant son, Brett, who was covered in bruises, a common symptom of leukemia. I still remember the horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach when I realized that another child from our tiny town was suffering from the same terrible disease.

The next year was a long and difficult one for both our families. Early in June, Robie and Perry lost their beloved Brett just short of his second birthday. Our Janina followed three months later. Richard and I had three-year-old, Matthew, and our brand new daughter, Melaina, to keep us from completely falling to pieces but Robie and Perry’s arms were empty.

The following year joy revisited both families. On July 10, the day that would have been Janina’s sixth birthday, Robie gave birth to Brendyn Brett and exactly two weeks later, we were blessed by the birth of our adopted son, Nathan. Our boys were dedicated to the Lord in the same Sunday morning service with our pastor and Robie’s father, a retired United Church minister, both participating in the ceremony. Over the next few years, two more sons were added to Robie and Perry’s family. As time went by, our paths went in different directions and we didn’t maintain a close relationship but the bond of common loss remained.

Late the night before last, less than three weeks after the birth of his first child, Greyson Brett, 27-year-old Brendyn died in a tragic accident.

What can I say?

Losing a child is every parent’s worse nightmare. Losing a second one, unimaginable. As a child, our Matthew was severely asthmatic and medications weren’t what they are today. In the early days after his sister’s death, he was often very sick. I remember standing at his sister’s graveside railing at God and pleading that I would not have to put another of my children in the ground. I cannot begin to imagine the anguish that Robie and Perry are experiencing today.

What can I say? 

Today my Facebook status says “I can’t explain why God lets bad things happen but when hearts are hurting and life doesn’t make any sense, I still believe that there’s no road too difficult when we walk by His side.”

What more can I possibly say?

Lonely lament of a gamer’s wife

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There’s a new breed of women these days that didn’t exist when I was growing up. We’re the gamer’s wives, women married to men who spend countless hours playing video or online games. Most gamer’s wives are younger than I am. Some, like our daughter Melaina, married their husbands knowing that they would be sharing them with their games. A few even play the games themselves.

Richard used to make disparaging remarks about men who wasted hours on end playing games. Then he joined their ranks. Most men get hooked on MMORPGs, massively multiplayer online role-playing games like World of Warcraft, but Richard’s game of choice is Farmville, a social networking game favoured by women in their forties! When he started playing 20 months ago, I wasn’t surprised that it quickly consumed him. That’s the kind of person he is. When he gets into something, he’s in 110%. I am surprised, however, that it’s lasted this long. I guess that’s because I just don’t see the game’s appeal. From what I’ve observed, it looks about as engaging as watching paint dry or grass grow!

I’m glad this latest obsession of Richard’s didn’t start until after our kids were grown. The dad they grew up with started every morning reading his Bible. Now, he turns on his computer the minute he crawls out of bed and spends an hour exchanging virtual gifts with total strangers before breakfast. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that he neglects his spiritual life but it does irk me that he who claimed for many years that first thing in the morning was the best time for personal devotions, now gives that time to Farmville!

Richard doesn’t like me using words like obsession or addiction to describe his passion for Farmville but I don’t know how else to describe it and there are certainly plenty of self-described Farmville addicts out there who don’t play anymore than he does. Richard has offered to quit playing because he knows it bugs me but most of the time, I don’t actually object to him playing the game. After all, it’s pretty harmless and there are a lot worse things he could be doing but I do object to the nine or ten hour days when he only emerges from the computer room when he’s called to the table for a meal. The blogger who calls herself the gamer’s wife, who is also a certified counsellor, agrees that this is unacceptable. Fortunately, there aren’t too many days like that at our house.

I also object to the fact that when he’s absorbed in his game, he’s oblivious to whatever else might be going on. When I go into his ‘cave’ to tell him something that I think is interesting or important, I’m often met with silence or a blank look that tells me that he hasn’t heard a word I said. He didn’t even respond when I mentioned that a growing issue in divorce and estate settlements is who gets the deceased person’s online assets. I think he already knew that I’d have absolutely no interest in inheriting his pink cows!

At first, I also resented the fact that our schedule had to accommodate him being home at the right time to harvest his virtual crops. I didn’t think that that was part of our retirement plan! Apparently, either he’s much better at planning these days or that isn’t as big a part of the game anymore as we haven’t had to come home on time to harvest in a long time. I suspect it’s the latter as I know that the game has grown to include much more than simply planting and harvesting. I noticed this morning, that he even has what appears to be a marina and a lighthouse now. They sure don’t have those on the real farms around here! I’m also thinking that it’s too bad that I can’t visit his ‘farm’. I’m pretty sure it also has a spa and after spending so many hours on an actual combine over the past several days, I could sure use a deep muscle massage!

Oh well, out on the real farm Richard finished swathing today but I have many days of combining left. Now he’ll have plenty of time to overdose on Farmville while I’m not here to be bothered by it!