Family

Navigating family life during a teacher strike

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I was working on a fashion post for today, but then life got in the way. You may or may not be aware of the fact that teachers in this province have been on strike since October 6th. After almost three weeks out of his normal routine, our 11-year-old neurodiverse grandson was bored out of his mind. Mom and Dad were working and he was driving his teenage siblings crazy, so Gram and Grandpa decided to come to the rescue. Yesterday we drove three hours to their place, stayed the night, and then brought him home with us today.

Grandpa had a dentist appointment in Camrose on the way home, so we stopped there for lunch, a bit of shopping and a walk around beautiful Mirror Lake.

We have no idea how long our young guest will be with us. There could be movement on the teacher strike as early as Monday or it could drag on for awhile longer. In the meantime, between playing substitute parent to a very busy boy and trying to figure out how to feed him (he has celiac disease and food avoidance issues), I hope to find time to finish that fashion post for next week!

A life transformed

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Back in August when I wrote this post about several 50 year milestones in my life in 2025, I mentioned that In October it would be 50 years since I made the life-changing decision to follow Christ. A couple of readers mentioned that they would be interested in hearing more about how I reached that decision. I had already been thinking about sharing that story on the blog, so I decided I would do it today, the 50th anniversary of the day that my life was transformed.

As far back as I can remember, my family went to church every Sunday morning. I attended Sunday School and youth group and for several years, church camp was the highlight of my summers. In my early teens, I attended confirmation classes to learn more about the church and the Christian faith. The purpose of these classes was to prepare us for church membership, but when the classes ended and the minister asked me if I was ready to join the church, I said no. I felt that something was missing, but I didn’t know what it was. I knew that Jesus loved me and that He had died for me, but I felt that there must be more to it than that. When I discovered that all the other students in the class were going to join, however, I didn’t want to be the only one who was left out, so I changed my mind. After all, I was a good kid, a quiet kid who didn’t like to stand out from the crowd.

The summer before my final year of high school, my father took a job in the Northwest Territories and we moved from Vancouver to Yellowknife; from the third largest city in Canada to a small, isolated  community in the middle of nowhere. I had to leave my home, my friends, my school, my church, and everything else that mattered to a teenage girl. I wouldn’t get to graduate with my class. I was angry and I made a very conscious decision to rebel. I decided that I was going to find out how the other half lived. I quit going to church and started drinking and partying. I abandoned the morals that I had been taught and less than two years after leaving Vancouver, I entered into a teenage marriage that never should have happened.

We had only been married for a year and a half when my husband, a very charismatic narcissist, told me that he had fallen in love with someone else. He didn’t want our marriage to end though. Instead, he wanted to invite her to move in with us! I absolutely refused to allow that to happen and tried for another year to make our relationship work, but midway through my third year of university, it was over and we went our separate ways. I was broken. My dreams were shattered and I felt like unwanted, unloved garbage. That led to more unhealthy relationships.

In spite of all that was going on in my personal life, I managed to graduate from university with my teaching degree and I accepted a job in the very small town where we still live today. I realized that as a teacher in such a small community, my life would be on display for everyone to see. It was the mid 1970s and I was sure that if I continued to live the way I had been, parents wouldn’t want me teaching their kids.

Once again, I made a conscious decision to turn my life around. I thought I could do it on my own, but God had a much better plan. Richard was also a new teacher at the school that year. One evening early in the fall, he shared with me what it meant to be a Christian in a way that I had never heard before. He told me that if I acknowledged my sins, asked for God’s forgiveness, and surrendered my life to Christ, I could have a personal relationship with Him and my life would be transformed. I quickly realized that this was the missing piece that I hadn’t heard about growing up. I didn’t know that I had to make an actual decision to follow Christ or that I could have a personal relationship with Him.

At the same time, I also realized that making that decision would mean giving up control of my own life. Considering what a mess I’d been making of it up to that point, you would think that this would be an easy or obvious decision, but I wrestled with it. Eventually though, I couldn’t deny that God was calling me and I finally surrendered my stubborn will to His. When that happened my life changed completely. There were no flashes of lightning or tongues of fire, just an incredible peace that I had not known before. I felt like a brand new person, free of any guilt or shame over my past. I no longer had any desire to live the way I had been.

I quickly learned that God didn’t want to be a distant deity who cared about me, but who wasn’t personally involved in my life. Like a Japanese kintsugi artist, He began to fill the broken places in my life with gold and turn me into a vessel that He could use for His good purposes.

I wish that I could tell you that life was always easy after that, but of course, it wasn’t. In John 16:33, Jesus tells us, “In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” Over the past 50 years, I have suffered great loss and betrayal. I have spent the last 12 of those years fighting cancer, but I have never been alone in any of these dark times. One of my favourite Bible verses is Isaiah 41:10 which says, “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” I can testify to the truth of that!

Whatever you take away from this post, please note that this is not about church or even about religion, it’s about an intimate, personal relationship with the Creator of the universe; a relationship that is available to everyone regardless of who you are and what you’ve done. If you have any questions or would like to chat about this, please feel free to comment below or send me an email at debock2@gmail.com.

Image: ChatGPT

What’s for lunch?

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I started making bag lunches for my brother and I when I was in junior high. For three of my four university years, I lived off campus and carried a bag lunch almost every day. Then, throughout our teaching career, I made bag lunches for my husband, our children, and I. That’s over 40 years and thousands of sandwiches!

When we retired, I was excited that I’d never have to make bag lunches again, but then came the dilemma that I still live with 18 years later. What should I make for lunch today? In retrospect, making sandwiches every day was easier than having to decide what to feed us for lunch every single day for the rest of our lives!

When my parents were in their later years, they ate the same simple lunch almost every day. It consisted of Laughing Cow cheese and fresh buns from the bakery down the street from their apartment. How boring, I thought, but now I understand! While I don’t think hubby would go for that, he’d probably be happy with mac and cheese or eggs and toast every day. Me, not so much!

I decided to ask ChatGPT for ideas. If you’re not familiar with ChatGPT, it’s a free and easy to use artificial intelligence (AI) chatbot, a tool that can do everything from recommending a book for you to read to helping you plan a trip. In a matter of seconds, it gave me several possibilities. Some include ingredients that I won’t find in my small town grocery store, but others are very doable. I had to laugh though when I saw that the final item on the list was peanut butter and banana sandwiches, something that often appeared in those bag lunches!

The photo was also generated by ChatGPT.

Now it’s your turn. I’d love to hear some simple, nutritious lunch ideas! What are your favourite things to make for lunch?

Traveling again: family time

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Prior to yesterday’s post, the blog had been silent for three weeks. That’s because I was traveling again! For much of that time, I didn’t have internet access and when I did, I was too busy to write about what I was doing. Now that I’m home again, I’m looking forward to reliving some of those experiences as I share them with you.

Our most recent trip was really three in one and, as such, was definitely the most difficult one I’ve ever had to pack for. It started with a family reunion at the beginning of August. Over 70 of hubby’s relatives gathered at his youngest brother’s farm for a fun-filled long weekend.

It was a time of visiting, catching up, food, games, campfires, and even some shenanigans!

When one of the brothers went a little overboard teasing his younger sister about the bright caftans and wide brimmed hat that she wore to protect herself from the sun, a bunch of us gals decided to join her! In spite of our wacky outfits, I love this selfie of my daughter and I.

It was especially fun to watch the children. Second and third cousins, many who’d never met before, quickly became fast friends. Within minutes of arriving, our 11-year-old autistic grandson was part of a “cult” with creative code names like “Walmart Shopping Bag” and “Ikea Dining Table”! On a hot afternoon, a rousing game of Human Battleship with water balloons morphed into a giant water fight. A visit to the nearby cemetery to place refurbished headstones on old family graves was a more sombre moment and I was very moved by the response to a silent auction to raise funds for neuroendocrine cancer and Parkinson’s disease research. Half the proceeds put me within $100 of my Hoofing It fundraiser goal.

Like most of the crowd, we stayed in our trailer during the reunion, but then we left it at the farm and picked it up again after the second and third parts of our vacation which included a road trip to Vancouver and an Alaskan cruise. That’s why packing was such a conundrum! I could easily pack for any one of the three, but making the transition from trailer to road trip to cruise was a challenge even for someone with as much packing experience as I have!

The trip to Vancouver was also about family. It was the first time since our father passed away at the beginning of March 2020, less than a week before the Covid pandemic shut the world down, that all three of my siblings and I were able to be in Vancouver at the same time. In his younger years, Dad was an avid mountaineer and mountains were his passion, so it only seemed fitting that his final resting place be on one of the mountains overlooking the city where he was born and spent much of his life. On the morning of August 9, nine family members hiked the short, but fairly steep trail to beautiful Mystery Lake and selected a secluded spot nearby to finally lay his ashes to rest. 

The following day we celebrated my beloved older brother’s 75th birthday. Surrounded by family, friends, and caregivers, Donald was the man of the hour! 

To read Donald’s story, visit this post that I wrote more than a decade ago. It was later published in the Community Living Society’s quarterly publication, The Communicator. 

Part three of our trip was the Alaska cruise. In order to keep this post from becoming too long and because I’m still sorting through the 300+ photos that I took on that portion of the trip, I’ll share it in a separate post (or maybe even more than one) within the next few days. 

18 years of retirement!

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With the school year coming to an end this week, hubby and I have been retired for 18 years. 18 years! How is that even possible? That’s the same length of time that I taught at Lougheed School, a small prairie school that closed a couple of years later due to declining enrolment. Perhaps it says something about our chosen career that 18 years of teaching seemed like a very long time while the past 18 have flown by!

When I reflect on all that we’ve experienced in the past 18 years, I realize how full and how rewarding they have been. Retirement has included fulfilling long held dreams like teaching English in Japan and later, China. One might argue that that wasn’t really retirement. After all, we were employed and we earned a paycheque, but it wasn’t really about the work or the money. Those were simply what allowed us to be there. It was all about adventure; about living shoulder to shoulder with the people of another land and learning about their culture. It was about traveling to other locations in Asia during our holiday breaks. We also spent one summer on the Pacific island of Saipan serving as short term missionaries.

Living with cancer for the past 12 years has curtailed our ability to spend extended periods of time outside the country and the pandemic kept us home for a couple of years, but tourist travel has also been a big part of our retirement years. We’ve visited Mexico six times, ziplined over the rainforest in Costa Rica, toured Israel, and visited several European countries as well as nine Canadian provinces, one territory, and numerous US states.

Speaking of retirement, my father always said that there were no end of things that one could do as long as they didn’t need to be paid to do them and we have certainly found that to be true. Volunteering in various capacities in our church, our community, online, and most recently in a far and distant land, has helped give meaning to our retirement years.

Retirement has brought some unexpected surprises. Learning to operate a tractor and a combine definitely wasn’t part of this city bred girl’s retirement plan, but several years of helping a friend at seeding time and harvest gave me more joy than I could ever have imagined.

Since we retired, our family has grown to include eight grandchildren who have made our lives so much richer. In fact, that’s why this post is a day later than I’d originally planned. We visited three of them earlier this week and now another three are visiting us. As much as I love to write, going on adventures and playing games with the grandkids and late night cuddles and chats with one who has trouble sleeping are far more important than anything I could ever post on here.

To say that our retirement years have been rich would be an understatement. I’m incredibly thankful that, in spite of our health challenges, we have been able to experience so much. As time flies by I sense an urgency to continue seeing and doing as much as we can while we’re still able, but I don’t see us slowing down anytime soon, so here’s to a few more years of purposeful and productive retirement!

A post-holiday update

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Christmas has come and gone and the decorations are all put away. Christmas itself was a quiet one for hubby and I this year. It was just the two of us on Christmas morning, but we were joined by another couple later in the day for turkey dinner with all the trimmings. Then, two days later, the house was full with two of our grown children, their spouses, and six of our eight grandchildren here for the weekend! Every bed was taken as well as a couple of air mattresses and we managed to squeeze all twelve of us around the table at mealtime. Board games and trips to the tobogganing hill were enjoyed and it was a delight to see the cousins having so much fun together. But…

As grandchildren often do, one or two of them came with coughs and runny noses and Gram managed to catch one heck of a cold! Thankfully, the symptoms didn’t appear until after everyone left, but I was under the weather for several days. I’m finally on the mend, no longer depending on decongestants to breathe and although the cough still lingers, I don’t feel like I’m hacking up a lung. I’d normally say that I don’t feel my age, but this cold drained me of energy and definitely left me feeling old. Hopefully that’s just temporary! 

Speaking of age, we’re celebrating this guy today.

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It’s hubby’s 75th birthday today, definitely a milestone! It will be another quiet celebration though. At one point, I had thought about inviting friends in to celebrate with us, but between sickness and a house that’s gradually being stripped bare in preparation for upcoming renovations, that’s not happening.  

We’re in the process of emptying closets, clearing off shelves and countertops, and moving everything except our large pieces of furniture into the basement. Walls will be painted, ancient carpets replaced with wood flooring, baseboards and trim replaced, interior doors repainted, and the front door replaced. While the work is being done, we plan to be out of the way, but more about that later. 

I will be blogging from time to time over the next few weeks, but I’m not sure if there will be any fashion posts. I do have a couple of ideas rattling around in my brain, but right now my clothes are all over the place and I’m not sure what I’ll be able to pull together. Do stay tuned though!

Staying chic in winter: essential outerwear tips

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logo-by-samIn response to last Friday’s post, one of my regular readers made this comment on Facebook… “In addition to your tips, there are two items I think will help you look put together. In our cold climate most people we meet will only see our outerwear, so I invest in a nice flattering coat and boots. They go a long way to creating good first and lasting impressions.” That reminded me of a hilarious story that has been told many times at my poor hubby’s expense. 

Many years ago when we were in the city for our annual teacher’s convention, we went out for dinner with a colleague who is also a good friend. It was a cold, blustery evening in early March. Hubby dropped us off in front of the restaurant and then went to park the vehicle. We were seated in the lounge while waiting for a table and our drinks had just been delivered when hubby came in to ask if I had some change for the parking meter. He was wearing a ratty old winter coat that I had been trying to convince him to replace for a very long time. I wish I had a picture to show you! It was bad! I gave him the change he needed and as soon as he left, the waiter came over and asked, “Ladies, was that man bothering you?” He thought hubby was a vagrant begging for money! Guess who bought a brand new winter coat the very next day!  

So yes, outerwear is important! It’s often the most visible part of a winter outfit and in many cases, it’s all that people see. Climate should, of course, dictate your choice of outerwear. Here on the Alberta prairie where temperatures plunge to -30ºC (-22ºF) and sometimes even colder, warmth has to be our first priority, but we don’t have to give up looking good in order to stay warm. Six years ago, I wrote this post about how to buy a winter coat. Believe it or not, I’m still wearing that coat and it still looks as good as it did when I bought it. 

If we lived where winters were less harsh, I’d maybe wear this coat all season long or perhaps I’d invest in a longer wool coat, but as soon as the temperature dips much below 0ºC (32ºF) I reach for the warmth of my insulated jacket. 

The second piece of outerwear that will keep you looking put together in the depth of winter is a good pair of boots. If I wasn’t such a frugal fashionista, I’d probably have a very large collection of those. I’m not really a fan of winter, but I do love boots!

Whether choosing tall boots or an ankle style, there are several important factors to consider. As with any footwear, comfort is my first priority. Part of comfort is warmth, so that’s another very important consideration. Wet feet equal cold, uncomfortable feet, so if your winters are rainy and wet, look for boots that are waterproof. Falling on an icy surface is a very real risk where I live and I don’t want to end up breaking a hip or a wrist, so soles that provide good traction are essential. Thankfully, there are plenty of fashionable boots that tick all these boxes. I do have a couple of pairs of ankle boots that are less practical, but I’m very careful when and where I wear those.

As with any footwear, keeping your boots clean and in good condition is part of looking put together. Using a water-repellant spray will help protect them from water, stains, and dirt.

So, now that winter is upon us, don’t forget that you can stay warm and still look good even when you’re out in the cold. 

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Revisiting Powell River: a nostalgic journey

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The past couple of days in Powell River, the BC coastal town where I was born and spent the first ten years of my life, have been a wonderful time of revisiting and reminiscing. One of my favourite things as a child was riding the ferries and after all these years, that hasn’t changed.

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That’s the one that took us from Earl’s Cove to Saltery Bay on the last leg of our trip and there’s our white SUV sandwiched between two big trucks as we make the 50 minute crossing.

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When we arrived in town, we immediately drove up the hill to check on the one remaining piece of family history in town, the giant California redwood that my grandmother planted from seed in the early 1940s. It stands in the corner of the yard that was hers and continues to thrive in its unusual location. Back in 2019, I contacted the Powell River weekly newspaper and they published this excellent article about it.

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There’s our vehicle again to give you an idea of how big the tree actually is!

The little house that my grandfather built in the 1930s is still standing, but I’m sure my grandmother, an avid gardener, would be as horrified as I was at the condition of the yard. She lived in that house until she passed away in late 1980 and I spent many, many happy hours there.

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My childhood home is still standing too, but it’s been completely transformed since we lived in it. When we moved in in 1955, it was a modest family home with two bedrooms and one bathroom, a completely unfinished upper storey, and a partially dirt basement. Later, as the family expanded, my father added two additional bedrooms and a half bath upstairs. Now for sale, it’s advertised as a “stunning 5 bed 4 bath character home” with a walk out basement and an attached bachelor suite and if you happen to have an extra $1.5 million to spend, it could by yours! While I wouldn’t even recognize it as the same house from the ocean side, this view from the street still looks very familiar.

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Living on the waterfront, I could hear the waves from my bedroom at night and the beach was my playground. On this visit, we walked the 2.7 km (out and back) Seawalk that is a new addition since our days in PR.

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I remember my father telling the tale of climbing Valentine Mountain with his two preschool children (my older brother and I) on Father’s Day 1955 and, in his words, when we got home his wife “felt like having a baby”. My sister was born later that day! I also remember that in his younger days, Dad, an avid mountaineer, would climb the mountain with a pack filled with 40 pounds of magazines on his back to stay in shape. With these family stories in mind, I decided that on this trip, hubby and I would climb Valentine Mountain. It’s actually a short, but steep hike up to a rocky bluff with a beautiful view. The final part of the climb is a made up of steep stone steps.

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The panoramic view from the top includes the old pulp and paper mill which was originally Powell River’s sole reason for being as well as a breakwater made of WWII merchant marine vessels.

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The mill, now closed, played a very big role in our family history. The grandfather that I never knew because he died in his 30s worked in the mill and my beloved Grandpa, the man my grandmother married when I was 7, was a millwright there for his entire working life. During WWII, when women filled roles left vacant by men who’d gone to war, my mother also worked in the mill and later, my father was employed as an engineer by the company.

While in Powell River, we’ve been staying in a beautiful airbnb with an ocean view. Each evening, we’d watch the sun set and then go out for dinner.

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We were halfway through dinner the first evening when I realized that the restaurant we were eating in was probably originally the movie theatre where I’d seen the 1959 film, The Shaggy Dog, with a group of neighbourhood kids. The waitress confirmed my suspicion. Then this evening, we ate in a bistro that is housed in what was always called the beer parlour when I was a child. I remember that back then it had two separate entrances. The signs over the doors said “Men” and “Women and Escorts”. My grandmother spoke of it as if it was a terrible place. I’m sure the ambiance has changed significantly since then!

Tomorrow, we’ll say goodbye to Powell River and return to Vancouver. There won’t be a fashion post this week, but I do plan to write a couple more about our time here. In the meantime, I hope you’ve enjoyed this rambling bit of reminiscing.

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Book of the Month – August 2024

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Forgiveness: A Gift from My Grandparents

Mark Sakamoto

Screenshot 2024-08-30 at 12.24.18 PMIn this compelling family memoir, Canadian lawyer Mark Sakamoto writes about his grandparents’ harrowing experiences during World War II. In so doing, he shares with us one of the ugliest and most shameful parts of our country’s history, the forced evacuation of Japanese Canadians from the coastal areas of British Columbia.

The author’s paternal grandparents, Hideo and Mitsue Sakamoto, both Canadian citizens born in Canada, were living and working in Vancouver when the war broke out. They were forced from their home and relocated to a sugar beet farm in southern Alberta where they lived in a crudely converted chicken coop and worked like slaves. They lost their possessions, their community, and their freedom and when the war was over, the government of Canada reimbursed them $25.65, less than 2% of the value of their lost possessions and wages. 

While the Sakamotos were eking out an existence in southern Alberta, the author’s maternal grandfather, Ralph MacLean, experienced a very different war. A young soldier from eastern Canada’s Magdalen Islands, he was shipped out to Hong Kong where he was captured by the Japanese army. Spending the remainder of the war in prisoner of war camps, he enduring illness, abuse, and degradation at the hands of his captors. Barely surviving, he was released at the end of the war and returned to Canada where he found work in Medicine Hat, Alberta.  

A generation later, Ralph and his wife come face to face with Hideo and Mitsue when their daughter falls in love with the Sakamoto’s son. It is a testament to both sides when they are able to put aside the past, choose to forgive, and become friends. 

In the final third of the book, the author focuses on his own life’s story, particularly the trauma that he experienced after his parents’ marriage ends, his mother remarries a violent man, and her life descends into the depths of alcohol and drug addiction. The theme of forgiveness ties the story together, however; forgiveness learned from his grandparents. 

I would caution those who are interested in historical accuracy that the book does contain a few errors related to geography and timing that should have been caught by the editor, but keep in mind that the writer was depending on his grandparents’ memories and telling their story rather than basing his book on historical research. 

Forgiveness: A Gift from My Grandparents won the Canada Reads 2018 award and a stage adaptation by Hiroko Kanagawa played in live theatres across Canada in 2022-2023. I vaguely remember hearing about it then and now I wish that I had purchased tickets and made the effort to travel to the city for a performance. 

 

Live with it and love it

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My baby turned 40 this week. In fact, because my “Irish twins” are less than a year apart in age, his sister is also 40! And they’re my youngest! Is it any wonder that I’ve been thinking about age this week? Either I’m getting old or they’re catching up to me!

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In reality, I’m not bothered by my age. Surprised maybe. Time seems to have gone by so quickly. But bothered? No.

For as long as I can remember, advertising has been hoodwinking women into believing that we lose value as we age; that our goal in life should be to hang on to youth or the appearance of youth for as long as we can. Hogwash! I like what Helen Mirren, who celebrated her 79th birthday this week, had to say about age. “At every age, you lose some things but you gain other things. That’s the kind of magic that happens, so deal with it. You either die young, or you get old. Enjoy the ride!” In this short video she says her age has always been an asset and her advice is to all of us is to “live with it and love it.”

While I’m happy to be the age that I am, especially considering the fact that when I was first diagnosed with cancer I had no expectation that I would live this long, that doesn’t mean that I want to look old. I just don’t want to waste my time and energy trying to look young when I’m not. I simply want to be my authentic self, a woman in her 70s who loves life and hasn’t given up on herself. I’m sure that many of you can identify with that. 

So how do we accomplish this? Thinking about what you want your appearance to say about you and choosing 3 to 5 adjectives to describe your personal style can be very helpful in building a look that conveys the right message. You can read about how I arrived at my 5 style adjectives here. 

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