Remembrance Day - Is it enough?

I have to admit that I have a hard time with Remembrance Day and wearing a poppy. Before you jump to any conclusions, hear me out on this one.

I am not a believer in violence to solve our problems. I don't think it has ever served us well or really solved anything. It has caused a lot of destruction and death while making some people richer (the arms industry, among others) and a lot of people poorer. Most reasons for going to war have little to do with making life better for the common person and more to do with gaining power for the few. The few that gain are not usually the ones that go to war and "sacrifice" themselves for the greater good,

I know that it is easy to philosophize about this when I have never faced a real "threat" to my freedom or safety. What would I do and what would I think if it was real? I don't know. What I do know is that war is more than just the battle and those who died. War infects an entire generation and those who come after. There is nothing "glorious" about war. Heroic efforts are made and the real "cost" of those efforts lasts a lifetime. It doesn't just affect the soldier, it affects their family, friends, communities and that is what I truly want to remember and discuss.

Because if we are not prepared to pay the full "cost", why do we participate? The cost of war/missions are not only in the equipment needed, the administration to deploy or the wages to the military. That is just the beginning. The aftermath of deployment is where the true "cost" appears in soldiers coming home injured physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. While we may do a good job in helping the injured recover, those whose wounds go deeper or who are permanently disabled, we are ill prepared to deal with. Add in family, friends and communities that are left to cope and you can see how widespread it becomes in trying to "treat" someone. And then add in that some injuries won't appear until many years later - side-effects from chemicals used, brain damage not discovered, mental/emotional illness that slowly takes a hold, addictions that develop as a way to self-medicate -- it becomes even more challenging to deal with the true "cost" of war.

AND do we really want to pay? I don't think so (by we I mean our society as a whole, not the wonderful individuals that do help & support). We could blame Veterans Affairs Canada, the current and past governments for not doing more. But we really have to look at ourselves. Once a year we "remember", wear a poppy, go to the local ceremony, listen to the songs, choose "Like" on our Facebook page and think that is enough. What we don't do is support increased taxes to pay for benefits and programs that will really help returning veterans. What we don't do is write letters in support of these programs and benefits. What we don't do is recognize that returning veterans who have wounds that are deep and difficult to heal are NOT liabilities. What we don't do is reach out to those individuals/families who are barely holding on. We see the "drunk", the "homeless", the "drug addict" and we say they are to blame for their condition, not knowing what led them to this state. We stumble through conversations with their families providing sympathy and want to move on as quickly as possible. We don't want to acknowledge the "elephant" in the room.

AND we don't consider the cost to the country where the conflict took place, the many casualties that we left behind who are mostly civilian - children, women and the elderly. What would it really take to help them? Where would we even start?

So really, what are we remembering on November 11th? What does that poppy really mean? How do we make it meaningful and not a once a year salute to our veterans? How do we have meaningful discussion without labeling someone as "not supporting the troops" when they question, and keep the conversation open? How do we listen to each other's points of views? And most importantly how do we do all of this in a way that takes action now, that doesn't leave those suffering behind while we comfortably discuss the issues?

I don't know about you but I know this Remembrance Day has got me thinking and questioning. I know that I am part of the problem, that I am not doing enough to support. I know that I need to speak up and whether I agree with our "mission" in Afghanistan or not, I belong to this country and I need to let our government know that if we send people to "war/conflicts", we need to pay the "true cost" of that deployment, even if it takes a 100 years to pay off the debt. Bringing them home isn't enough. Leaving the country and the chaos behind is immoral. Forgetting that people are human beings in relationships that will be impacted is unethical. Trying to "balance budgets" without taking care of our responsibilities to individuals, families, communities and countries is unconscionable.

It is time to stand up and remember what war really is and how much devastation it causes and to act now to prevent further conflicts and to "pay" for the aftermath of the ones we have participated in. Two minutes of silence and a wreath laid is not enough.

No Sexy Lingerie for me....

It was a few years ago when I heard a knock on the door after work and I went to answer it only to open the door to MJ who then doubled over and burst out laughing -- at ME! Needless to say, I wanted to slam the door in her face. I remembered my manners in the knick of time and invited her in. What could have made her laugh at me like that?

Well what do you get when you combine an obsessive compulsive early riser of Scottish/Icelandic descent raised by two parents who lived through the depression on the Prairies?

Me in my full body fleece pajamas!

Thanks to my friend Ronda and her AWESOME Christmas gift, keeping the thermostat at 14 Celsius was fine with me. As soon as I get home I change into my comfy, cosy pj's and relax for the night. I admit, I do get a twinge (a slight twinge) of guilt when Pat puts on his toque to go down to the basement to carve. But really, you just have to dress for the weather (okay so it's indoors weather), and you will be fine. I have to find him a set of those fingerless gloves because he has been complaining about his cold hands.

Without children at home and every one of our friends knowing not to call after 8 pm, I make supper for 6, eat, clean up the dishes and then hop into bed by 7 or 7:30 pm to read my book almost every weekday night. Having fleece sheets really helps for keeping toasty warm. I don't know why Pat doesn't want to join me - I thought these jammies looked pretty sexy and hey, the foreplay lasts a little longer trying to get me out of them.

When Pat and I got married I only ever made one demand (okay, I have added to that one over the years). The demand was that he keep me warm in bed. I found that he wasn't always up to the challenge, often coming in with cold feet and trying to cosy up to me. Well now I don't worry, these fleece pajamas keep me warm no matter how cold he is when he comes to bed.

So what if I am not going to be the Cover Girl for La Senza or Victoria's Secret - I will be warm and comfortable and that's good enough for me. So I can be frugal, environmentally friendly and HOT at the same time! Pat....it's time for bed!

Paths and Hoar Frost....

I have been taking my camera with me on my runs, runs that used to go by in a blur of frenzied thought. With my running partner moved to Kelowna and going solo again, my mind is keeping me company. For a "head case" like me this isn't a good thing. I can keep myself distracted in thought and only "see" when my mind takes a brief and short breath. What most people find peaceful and serene, I find boring. "Talking" to myself makes the time go by.

This could be a good thing if I was coming up with cures for diseases or solutions to bring about world peace. That's what I would like you to think about me, somebody whose mind is focused on serving. Hah!, wouldn't you be surprised if you could hear my chatter. It always amazes me how self-absorbed I really am. I could fill a whole run on a beautiful day with dreams of grandeur, petty grievances against others, monotonous soap operas of my day-to-day drama and what I am going to do with those millions Pat is sure to win one of these days.

When Cindy ran with me we shared our lives, gave each other a listening ear (okay, Cindy listened more than I did), gave each other support and found out that two heads really are better than one, that community (communion) is what makes us human. We laughed together, we cried together, we let our anger out and let the peace in, we shared our hopes for our families, our dreams for ourselves, we talked things through and found that it was safe to just be. We held each other accountable and gave each other a break. We gave each other perspective and most importantly, we gave and received friendship - a friendship based on mutual respect and great love for the other. With Cindy, I could be the person I wanted to be. She made me want to be a better human being.

But now I am on my own again and oh how far I have fallen. I have found that being alone has made me insular, petty and small. The world has retreated to revolve around me and my view is very narrow. Reason is gone, replaced with that spiteful little "me" who always wants to be heard and noticed. You know it is bad when you just want yourself to shut up and get a life.

And where did I get that life from - from my wonderful husband Pat. His gift of a camera for my trip to Iceland has opened up a whole new world to me on my runs. At first I started taking the camera because the swans were migrating - my favorite time of year in the North. I love to watch the flocks and flocks of swans fly overhead and this year I wanted to get a picture. The camera is small and I can easily carry it while running, and that's when my eyes opened.

That run in the first snowfall of the year is what started it for me. I immediately was entranced by the beauty on the trail. What I normally would have found a few moments to be absorbed in became a picture I wanted to share with Pat, with Cindy, with my children, with my mom, with friends, with colleagues, with anyone who appreciates the wonder of God's handiwork. I stopped to take that first picture and I was hooked. Every step I took brought a new scene into view, one that was breathtaking and inspiring. A new angle, a bit of colour, a bird in a tree, a snowflake fluttering in the wind - it was so beautiful and I wanted to share this moment with everyone.

Paths started to appear and my eyes were drawn to them. What have always been there on my running route were suddenly revealing themselves to me. I wanted to capture the entrance and discover the secrets those paths led to. I wanted to be a part of their mystery.

I have been carrying my camera ever since on my runs. I run the same route almost every day and yet each day brings a whole new world. The light has changed, more leaves have fallen, the sky is a different colour, the trees are swaying differently, a branch has fallen, the birds are calling - it is new every day and my eyes are "seeing" for the first time. I am totally absorbed in the beauty of it all and the world is expanding. My view is widening and my selfish chatter is floating away. I am falling into the peace and letting myself be embraced by the love of creation.

This morning my run was more like a run and stop. Every few steps I stopped to see the hoar frost on a leaf, a branch, a cluster of trees and I was dazzled by how much light was revealed even though it was a foggy and grey morning. The hoar frost danced in the emerging sunlight knowing that it would soon die. It didn't care about that future. It only lived in the now and let its whole being shine.

My little "i" is still with me, clamoring to be noticed. But the bigger "I", the one that is a part of creation is finding a way to just be. Thank you paths, hoar frost and Pat for opening up the world again. I still miss you Cindy but now I know you are here because you are a part of creation and you are with me every step of the way.

Live, laugh, love and run.....

CBC Radio, Mary Hynes and the Best Christmas Present Ever...

I'll start by saying, except for all those great Christmas presents my children have given me over the years and from my husband of course….

Now on to my amazing Christmas present – 3 months early. First I have to set the scene. I grew up on CBC Radio. Mom had the radio on all day and she only listened to CBC. It was in the background as she did her chores in the house and I never really paid attention to it, it was more like white noise. In the car the station was often on CBC Radio given that my parents controlled the selections. It wasn't until we were teenagers with driver's license in hand that we got to turn that radio knob and choose our listening pleasure. I was a teenager in the mid to late 70's, and like everyone else we listened to the Rock stations blaring out (I hate to say it), disco music and then later we could find stations playing punk rock music. I had a clock radio in my room and I closed the door and turned on the radio and listened to what most other teenagers were listening to. Given a choice, CBC Radio would have been the last station I would have turned to.

Fast forward to today and CBC is now the ONLY radio station I listen to. I admit, I am older than 16 now by 31 years, and fortunately I have had time to mature (I can hear my husband laughing at that one). So what changed? Living in Slave Lake, Alberta (29 years and counting) and driving 2.5 to 3 hours to get to Edmonton, growing up in Southern Ontario and NOT listening to country music and finding that CBC really was the only choice. I was a reluctant listener at first. In my early 20s I found myself questioning what the heck I was doing listening to my “parent's” radio station. How far had I descended down that hole of “becoming my parents”? Given that I had a child and children bring out those traits quickly, I was already at the bottom, I might as well enjoy it there.

I came to terms with listening to CBC Radio quickly and embraced the station wholeheartedly. It was what kept me awake and engaged as I made that trip to Edmonton numerous times. Long trips became bearable knowing that I would have CBC as my “friend” for the trip with people like Bill Richardson, Sheila Rogers, Peter Gzowski, the Dead Dog Cafe gang, the Edmonton/Calgary group who led the morning, noon and afternoon shows, Jonathan Goldstein and so many more. The shows and hosts were eclectic, exposing me to ideas, new music, old music, new people, new places, good books, hot topics, and different viewpoints. I was hooked. And history repeated itself, my children were now “stuck” listening to CBC.

I looked forward to trips on Sundays (I only listen to radio when traveling), and coming home at 4:00 pm when “Tapestry” came on with Mary Hynes. I loved her show about faith and spirituality. If we had to stop to get gas, I would delay as long as I could so I wouldn't miss a moment of the show. I would get home and write down the people she had interviewed and often get their books to read. It was so fascinating and touched my soul. One year I did the MS 150 (two days of riding a bike for 185 kms from Leduc to Camrose and back to raise money for MS) and my friend loaded “Tapestry” podcasts on her I-pod and lent it to me for the event. It was the most enjoyable trip ever. The dreaded bike ride became bearable with my “friend” Mary Hynes along for the ride. Her soothing voice, amazing guests and soul-searching topics kept me riveted over two days.

So it was a great surprise to find out my sister Peggy knew Mary Hynes. Peggy works with Mary's husband Randy at the Toronto Star. I had been in Toronto for a few days visiting my mother in her new place at the retirement home and staying with my sister Peggy and her family. Sunday night Peggy was taking me out for supper, just the two us, for some much needed sister time. Her husband Jeff was going to drop us off but first we had to stop at a friend's house and pick something up – something heavy that required my help. We stopped in a quaint Toronto neighbourhood, went to the door and a lovely woman answered. Peggy greeted her and then said, “this is your Christmas present from Jeff, this is Mary Hynes”. I was stunned! I was meeting Mary Hynes in person and not only that, she was inviting Peggy and me in for a drink before we went out for supper together! This was like meeting a rock star and finding out they lived close by and did pretty well the same things you did.

We came in for a wonderful drink, met her charming teenage daughter who didn't believe that her mother's presence could be anyone's Christmas present. Another reason to feel at home with Mary. Her teenager was like mine, so unimpressed by what we do thinking their parents are so ordinary and boring. After a drink we walked up the street to a wonderful Italian restaurant and spent the next few hours eating, drinking and talking. After a few drinks I was probably talking more than I should and completely enjoying every moment. Pictures were taken, numerous stories told and I was more hooked than ever.

Why do I like CBC so much? Because of hosts like Mary. These are people who are intelligent, fun, interesting and who are like you and me. They invite us into their “home” on radio and you pull up a chair at the kitchen table, have a cup of tea or a glass of wine and enjoy the conversation. They talk about things that you want to hear about and give you perspectives that make you think. You are engaged and know that you are welcome to stay all day if you can or just pop in for a minute or two.

So thank you Peggy (and Jeff), this really was a great Christmas present for me. And THANK YOU Mary for being as warm, intelligent, interesting, charming, fun and welcoming in person as you are on radio. If you notice buses going by your house, don't worry, it will just be me leading groups on a tour of CBC radio host's homes. Merry Christmas.

Rant or Zen? Ohmmmmm, I think I'm going for Zen...

A week's worth of reading newspapers, clipping articles for “material” and I had a whole whack of ranting to do. I was sure that yesterday I would make some time to do that ranting online with my blog. I was sure everyone else would want to hear “my opinion” on politics and other world events. At the very least, I would get some of it out of my system, clear my mind and get ready for another week's onslaught of things to rant about.

The universe had something else in store for me. After reading the newspaper, starting the split pea soup simmering on the stove, I put on my running shoes and headed out for a run. Up to the top of the cemetery is my favorite run and that's where I was headed. The day was beautiful, a hot sun shining and temperatures that let me go in shorts. I was absorbed in my internal “ranting” until slowly the rest of the world slipped away and I was transported to “heaven on earth”. Fall in Slave Lake on a nice day is a beautiful thing to behold and at the top of the hill it is stunning.

I stood at the top, could see Dog Island in the distance, Marten Mountain standing tall and the colour everywhere. Coming from Southern Ontario, I miss this time of year, especially the reds and oranges, but we still have a beautiful array of colours here in Northern Alberta. Slowly, all the worries, concerns, rants, minor irritations dropped off my shoulders and I breathed in the peace.

I headed down the hill refreshed, ready to meet Pat for a tea and just be happy with life right now. We enjoyed each other's company, went up the hill and took some photos and I went home ready to just be in the day. I didn't have the energy for my rant anymore, the creative juices were flowing and I started going through pictures to make some photo albums as gifts. Life is good.

Yesterday was a good day, today will be one too, I just have to let go and let creation seep into my very soul. I am looking for that sorrowful joy and joyful sorrow – a reminder that every moment is full of all and just letting it be and being in the moment will be enough.

Ohmmmmmmm, may you be embraced by the peace that is you today.

Nurse Edith......NOT!

Day 1 after Pat's gallbladder surgery and I am being the caregiver. What does that really mean? It sure doesn't mean that I am nursing him back to health. I am taking extra care of him and getting that glass of orange juice, reminding him about taking his medication, making the odd piece of toast, doing the chores he usually does and can't right now, helping him up when he needs a hand, checking to see how he is feeling and giving lots of smiles. Oooh, this sounds like a lot of work and I am not sure I can sustain this to Day 2.

Yesterday when he was in recovery after the surgery he got up to go to the bathroom and trailed blood on the floor. I was ready to phone for Home Care after that. There is a reason why I am not in the health care field. I don't do well with other people's bodily fluids and even the thought of wounds. I am getting nauseous just writing about this. When the nurse came to check his dressings and see how he was doing, I had to look the other way.

A few years ago Pat had another surgical procedure, closer to a part of his body where the sun doesn't shine too much. Afterwards the doctor explained how he would need his wife to change the dressing every day OR he could come to the hospital every morning and have a nurse do it. Pat chose the hospital and it was a WISE CHOICE. I still haven't looked at that part of his body and it is only a faded scar and the memory of the young nurse who had the task of asking Pat to put his feet up in the stirrups so she could change the dressing one day. I am sure that moment scarred her more than Pat.

So here I am, home with Pat for the day doing my wifely caregiver duties. Is there a limit? You bet! If he needs a dressing change, I can drive him to the hospital. If all he needs is a little extra care and attention, I can handle that….for a day or two. I can hear Cindy in the background already, “This isn't about YOU Edith.” You are right, it's about Pat getting the best care and I can arrange for that. Because when it comes to looking after my man, I want to make sure he does get the best care. You can pay for that or use the services that used to be part and parcel of our healthcare system. There was a reason why people recuperated in hospital – they were looked after by people trained to do the job.

I am not a nurse, I am the spouse. I love him and know that what I offer is care, concern, warmth, gentle nudging to follow doctor's orders, hot meals, clean clothes, clean house and to recognize when the professionals need to be called in to do the job. So don't worry…..he's in good hands.

Run Edith Run...

Sounds like Forrest Gump but this wasn't a movie, this was real life. The memory came back to me yesterday on my lunch hour run. It's Fall in Slave Lake and when I run in daylight I forget my fears and head out to my favorite spot, up to the cemetery. That sounds kind of creepy but it's the only hill we have and the best view of the town, Dog Island, the lake and Marten Mountain. I love running up there in every season and it gives me the best workout in a quick run.

The hill has three parts. The first part is paved up to the T-intersection. Here you can keep going up on the gravel road as far as Flatop which is 20 km away. That's a little too far for me and you are getting into serious bush country/forest. In the spring, summer and fall I don't feel comfortable going by myself into the bush, I am not what you would call a “Forest” person or “bush woman”. Many of my friends are, like MJ who is a Forest Educator. They feel confident walking about in the bush, knowing what to do when they come across a large animal. Me, I am a bit more wary.

But that was the problem, I wasn't wary yesterday. It was noon, the sun was up and it was a cool Fall day. I wasn't worried about any animals, thinking I was safe in broad daylight and not heading into the bush. I was just going to be skirting the edge because at the top of the paved part, I turn right and go up a little hill and follow the road up the last steep hill to the cemetery. The bush is there, but on the edge and there is enough traffic on the road during the day with teenagers zooming up in their cars and zooming back down again. I never quite know what the attraction is, but it seems to be “the” place to go at noon if you have a car. I worry more about those cars because they are full of kids trying to race each other up and down the hill and they don't notice the lonely runner on the road.

So there I was, just hitting the gravel part of the road at the top of the first hill, doing some fancy footwork (really – I was doing side running), not paying any attention to what was ahead and when I finally looked up, there he/she was, no more than 150 feet away from me, a big black bear lumbering across the road and heading into the bush, going the direction I was turning. The bear would be traveling parallel to me if I went up the next part of the road. It took me a few moments to figure out what I was seeing and then the shock, the fear and the part of me wanting to turn and run FAST kicked in! Thanks to MJ's training, I knew what to do, slowly put my hands up in the air, walked backwards and started talking loudly, saying things like, “It's okay Mr. Bear, I am just going to go back down the hill and not bother you anymore” and so on. The Bear? He/she (I didn't stop to check), couldn't have cared less, it lumbered across into the bush and didn't even look up at me. It did what most bears do especially when they are well fed, it went on with its business. We really aren't their meal of choice.

And that brings me back to my memory of another Fall day, very early in the morning (like 5 am), many years ago. I was running with Pat on the trails and we had just entered the part where it is bush by the creek. We were talking to each other, not paying attention when all of a sudden we hear this crashing in the bush right beside us. We couldn't see what it was because it was so dark, but it sounded BIG. This was no beaver that we occasionally saw on the trail and it seemed bigger than a deer. That left a moose, which I have never seen in town or a BEAR. We had surprised whatever it was and it was facing the same direction we were so that when it started running it was going the same way we were running. I can still hear Pat yelling, Run Edith Run!, and I did. I think I would have broken records that day with my run, the adrenaline kicked in and I ran faster than I ever have before or since. I could hear Pat behind me still yelling to run and I kept going till we couldn't hear the crashing anymore. I am sure we scared that animal just as much as were scared and he is probably telling the same stories to his friends. That's why I now run on the road if I go in the mornings in the Fall. We usually have a few bears that come into town along the trail this time of year, looking for berries and other food, loading up for hibernation.

Yesterday reminded me that we live close to the bush and that wild animals are a part of our environment. We need to pay attention and remember that this is their territory too and if we take precautions (make noise and leave the area where they are), we can co-exist. And I wouldn't want it any other way because at the end of the day, it's pretty cool that you get a glimpse of these amazing animals in their habitat.

I'm still running…

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"Big Brother" for the Elderly...It's Here!

Recently we had an incident with our aging mother who had gone for a walk, leaving the retirement residence that she lived in. This would have been fine if mom's memory was good, but it isn't. At the time, I joked that we needed a “Marauder's Map” like they have in the Harry Potter books. You would be able to see wherever mom was wandering in the building and in its immediate vicinity. While I joked about this, I was sure that with the GPS technology they have, it would only be a matter of time before they had something like this for senior's residences.

Well, I was too late with this idea, they already have something like this and more. My sister sent me the article from the Toronto Star in their Living Section, “Checking up on Mom from a distance, Remote monitoring technology aims to keep seniors in their houses and out of nursing homes.”

The “Marauder's Map” idea seems quite juvenile compared to what they have come up with. They have shoes with GPS tracking on them – good idea for mom, but I bet we won't find a pair in her width (she has a quadruple A width which is very, very narrow, picture skis for feet). They have systems you can put in the senior's home that monitors movement, blood pressure, weight, you name it. In the article they have interviewed a woman whose daughter phoned to ask what her mother had been doing because she could see that her mother had gained 5 pounds – how intrusive is that! And you know they have monitors in the one place I always worry there will be in public places – the bathroom. I can hear that phone call right now, “For God sakes Ruthie, I was just sitting down and having a crap!”

For those of you who don't have parents at this stage yet, you might think this is too interfering. For the rest who have struggled with caring for their aging parents while keeping your own life going, you are probably wondering when you can sign up. And I have to admit, I was thinking the same, sounds like a good idea. But it all seems a little overboard when you think about it. Our society has been slowly eroding privacy for what we think are legitimate reasons – the care and protection of our loved ones. It started with our children (think helicopter parents) and now we are doing it to our aging parents.

We North Americans want to avoid all risk and we will pour lots of money into doing so or at least to give us the illusion that we are risk-free. Companies that can give us that illusion are going to make big money in the next decade with “protecting” your aging parents.

The question we have to stop and ask, is it worth it? Some of you may say that if we save one person, then yes and if it was my mother being saved, who knows what I would think. But that's the whole point. That's how they sell it to us, they personalize the fear and you open up your wallet.

But is our society safer? Are your loved ones really safer? And what about quality of life? And what happens when we pour this money into this one area and not others (like financing the whole system of quality care for the elderly, not just the rich elderly)? I think about how much money we have poured into security at airports after 9–11 and wonder has it made us safer? Was this the best use of our resources (time and money)? What if they had poured that money into making our highways safer – would we have “saved” more lives? What if they had poured that money into programs targeting peace relations, would we have a “safer” world right now? I don't know. I just know that we need to keep questioning. What seems like a good idea can just be a way to dull our fears.

When it comes right down to it, that's what we really need to address – our fears. Let's bring them into the light of day and examine them, are they real, are they accurate, and really how big are they? We say we are the intelligent species, then let's act like that and quit having that instinctive response to everything that goes bump in the night – let's really think….together, and expose our deepest fears to scrutiny. We may find that our fears are the “monsters under our bed”, scary but a product of our imagination not our reality.

Or we may find out that the real things we should fear – poverty, socio-economic gaps, climate change, over-consumption, greed, racism/prejudice (and more) are complex and we don't have an easy answer and so it is easier to insulate ourselves and give in to the fears that we know we can manage.

At the end of the day, I know that keeping mom safe isn't the same as keeping mom happy. We have to balance the two and do it for mom, not for our “peace of mind”. We can pay for the risk-free environment with mom but it leaves her frightened and confused because she is “locked up”. We can “hover” over her every move but it gives us a sense that we have the “right” to know everything about mom, that she no longer has the right to privacy. And we can do all this under the guise of “love”. And it is out of love, a love that is mixed in with our fears, fears that we never knew we had and aren't really sure what they are and where they came from.

These are all things I am grappling with and questioning. I don't have easy answers. I just know that in the end it is me, it is you, it is all of us who are “Big Brother”. Is that what we really want?….

To Denise, with love....

It's Day 1 without Denise. Our youngest (baby) is back in the city getting ready for her final year in nursing and the house has been reclaimed. Vaccuming done, bedsheets changed, furniture re-arranged, laundry done, dusting done, bathroom tidied and here I am singing the blues.

Anyone who has ever had adult children come back for spring/summer after university knows what I am talking about. You spend eight months missing them, have them home for a week and you are tearing your hair out. Who knew that the independent young adult you raised would come home and in a matter of hours you would be back to being the nagging parent and they would be the demanding child, except that they are an adult now and your expectations have changed. Guess what – so have theirs. Problem is your pattern of relating to each other hasn't changed.

You spend an entire summer in some freakish live human experiment where you are sure someone is setting up the whole thing to see how you react to your environment. I picture a lab full of white coats who have put me in a maze and every time I get close to mastering it they throw in a barrier to see what I will do. “Cue menopause!”

So what are you to do? You take it day by day, you live, you learn and most of all you love. Last night we were at a friend's 80th birthday party. What struck me was when his daughter got up to talk about her dad. She told some funny stories and made reference to her dad's “quirks” (what parent doesn't have them?). At the end she told the whole room, what was really special about her dad was that no matter what, she knew that he always loved her, he had unconditional love for her and her siblings. She knew she could count on her dad for that love and really that's all that matters.

In the end I hope that's what our daughter knows. No matter how “crazy” I am, how over-protective, how difficult, how demanding, how annoying, how anal, how hormonal, how tired, how angry, that ultimately I love her no matter what. I know she wishes I would “grow up” faster and be the parent she wants me to be – easy-going, calm, charming, funny, quick to forgive and forget, less intrusive, more interesting, patient and a better listener. And I want to be that parent too, it's just that wanting and being are two different things. After failing my fourth Summer Session of “Relating to Your Adult Child and Being an Adult While Doing It 101”, I know that I received top marks in, “Loving Your Daughter with All Your Heart and Soul” and will continue to every single moment of my life.

Have a great year Denise. I love YOU!

My nightmare, my reality......cleaning out my parent's house...

It's been nine months since dad died and I think I am ready to talk about what for our generation (the 40 to 60 crowd) is terrorizing them in their sleep. If you still have parents alive and they grew up during the depression (or close to it), every time you visit you notice it….and you sweat about it….you know this monster is going to keep growing and one day it is going to get you. Some of you may ignore it because you have a sibling that will take care of it – you aren't going to give it another thought. The optimistic amongst you think that your parents will get around to taming the beast. But for those of you like me, the ones that know this isn't going away, you are getting cold shivers down your spine as I talk about this.

Yes, it is your nightmare – cleaning out your parent's house. How much stuff can people collect in 52 years of marriage, 79 and 77 years of life collectively? You don't even want to know. How long will it take you to clean this out? Six weeks of 12 hour days without stopping for a meal until supper time. What will you do with it all? Shred 48 banker boxes, fill one industrial size dumpster to the absolute top (thank you Robin/Howie!), take 24 full car loads to the Goodwill, take 2 full loads to the electronic waste disposal, put out junk by the side of the road and watch people actually stop and take it, sort the recyclables and find a friend to take 3 truckloads full to the depot, put the garbage out every week and PRAY that they will take it all. And you still won't be done.

Who knew that the generation that never wanted to waste anything would end up being so wasteful. And who knew that when they said to you in your younger years, “One day this will all be yours,” they were serious! They just didn't add, “this will all be your……problem.”

I can tell you that there was one happy angel hovering over me the whole time. I could hear dad saying, “thank god I didn't have to clean up that mess”, a mess he created. What do you get when you combine two hoarders with one of them being obsessive compulsive? You get one f*&*ing FULL house, with everything neatly stored in cupboards, drawers, closets, underneath beds, corners – every available space used to maximum capacity. And I mean maximum. My mother is the queen of folding and reducing things to the tiniest possible size for storage. What one person fits in ten drawers, mom could fit in one.

It's amazing how after nine months I can still bring up the event like it is still happening. That's because it still haunts me. Minimalist me has always dreaded that I would have to deal with someone's else's stuff. I can't just throw it away – my parents brought me up with the value that you don't waste. So there I am sorting through things, finding the stuff that can be given away and recycling when possible. At the same time you have to read enough to know whether this can be recycled or should it be shredded for privacy sake.

Here's some advice – sort/shred now! Your children don't need to know that much about you, nor do you want your children to know that much about you, unless you know a therapist that needs some business sent their way. Just make sure you leave the name of the therapist in an easy to find location.

How do you get through this? You wake up every morning, smile, pretend you are an archaeologist at a major dig, roll up your sleeves and get to work, have a system for sorting and clear out the sorted items each day. That's the practical. What really helps you get through this is that big glass of wine every night and the fact that you are so physically exhausted you will sleep like a baby.

I can look back at this now and realize that this would make a great reality show. It could be a spin-off from Hoarders. If any of you know someone in the tv show business that I could pitch this to, let me know. I could even host the show and maybe call it the “Junk Whisperer”. Who knows, maybe I could save someone from this fate. In the meantime if you are in this boat and need some concrete advice, let me know, I am happy to share my knowledge or at least a glass of wine.

Good luck!

Icelandic Food - Just for Karina

I grew up spending many summers in Gimli, Manitoba, home of the Icelandic Canadians. My mother was of Icelandic descent and we had many Icelandic dishes when we visited and at Christmas when mom would do some special baking. Here are a few of my favorite desserts. I have used a Five Star Rating.

Vinatarta – The Canadian version is a five to six layer cake made with a stewed prune filling. Each cake layer is more like a sugar cookie with the prune filling inbetween. The top usually has a thin layer of butter icing. This was a specialty that I didn't try making until a few years ago. I blame my mother (who doesn't blame their mother for everything). I thought it was a very complicated thing to make because it took mom three days to make it. Little did I know then, what I now know about my mother (and her sisters and now us), they aren't complicated people, they are just fussy! Never take cooking lessons from an obsessive compulsive (we called her anal-retentive). When I finally tried it I was surprised at how simple it really was to make the cake. ***** (Five Stars)

Pönnukökur – This is a very thin crepe made in a special Pönnukökur pan. When the Pönnukökur is done, they are set aside. A mixture of brown sugar and cinnamon is spread over each one and then rolled up tightly. In Iceland they put whipping cream in the middle. Yum, yum…. ***** (Five Stars)

Kleinur – This is a cake donut that is rolled, cut into diamond shapes with a slit in the middle. One end is pulled through the slit to form a knot and then it is deep-fried. What is there not to like about anything deep-fried. You have to be careful you don't eat a whole plate full. ***** (Five Stars)

Skyr – This is pronounced scare and when we were kids, that's what I thought about it, SCARY. I wouldn't eat it, didn't like the taste. As an adult, I have acquired the taste and quite enjoy it. I have also started making my own when I found out how easy it is to make (my aunt's version). Skyr is like yogurt but technically it is a very soft cheese. The version I make is using 2 litres of 3.25% buttermilk (if you can find it), leaving it overnight in the oven after heating it to 200 degrees for 5 minutes and then just leaving the light in the oven on. You take it out and drain it through a cloth for the day and whip it. Most Icelanders add sugar/honey/syrup to this and then use it like yogurt. *** (Three Stars)

Those are the basic desserts that we grew up with and loved. Rhubarb is another staple in both Canada and Iceland. They stew rhubarb and make jam out of rhubarb – all yummy. As for main meals, the Icleanders are of Scandinavian stock and live on an island. The first Icelanders to come to Canada settled on the shores of Lake Winnipeg. As a result, fish is a staple. Lamb/mutton is a common meat and true to the “old world” cured meat is traditional fare, either smoked, dried or made into sausage. Some we liked, others we didn't. The less we knew about how it was made, the easier it was to eat. Even then, some of the meats were hard to stomach (mainly because they were made out of stomachs and other organs of the animal). Some common food are: Harðfiskur (dried fish), Hangikjöt (smoked lamb or mutton), and Rullupylsa (lamb flanks rolled in spices served on Icelandic brown bread).

Cultures revolve around the food – food is a big part of who you are and where you come from. Memories of time spent together revolve around the meals you share with others. I have a Pavlovian response to going to Gimli, my mouth waters as I anticipate the meals/goodies that await me. My aunt Dilla phones me ahead of time to let me know when she is preparing my favorite fish dinner – nothing fancy, boiled sunfish, boiled potatoes, boiled carrots, and green tomato relish – but it is the meal that means Gimli to me and what makes it special is that it is made with love each and every time.

What is the secret ingredient in Icelandic food that makes it so good? What it is in every culture, people. Especially people who take the time to keep the tradition alive, to pass it on to others, to prepare the food with love and to share their food with family/friends/newcomers. Bon Appetit!

Alda and Me

The past eight months with Alda (mom) has been a wonderful gift. For a 78 year old woman she is certainly spry. Every morning she would do her “Tai Chi”, as my brother would say, balancing on one leg while she pulled on her pants or tied her shoes. This while she was by the side of the bed – who needs to sit down when you can stand on one leg to do everything. Never mind that I tried to tell her there was a law that forbade people over 75 from standing on stools or balancing on one leg, she would just smile and say, “I don't believe it.” You can't pull the wool over her eyes.

Our journey together began on November 19th, 2009 when my father died and left mom alone. I wouldn't call it sudden, but it sure happened a lot quicker than we thought. True to dad, he always thought he had more time than he did and he left without having a plan in place for mom. Her dementia had made it impossible for her to be alone in the house and so I stayed for six weeks, cleaning out the house (a whole other story, let's just say – don't ever do this to your children!), and managing the day-to-day tasks of a household – cooking, washing and endlessly having a looping conversation about what mom should wear that day, what we were doing, who was coming, where were we going, who were these people that kept calling, etc. She was at that awkward stage, not ready for a nursing home and not able to be by herself anymore.

Before I had come home, I was grieving for the mother I used to know. My mother was the queen of memory and detail. She retained all sorts of information and kept all family/friend connections stored for quick retrieval. Many a conversation would start with, “you remember so and so, who was married to so and so, who went on to do this and that…..” and you would get a detailed blow-by-blow of this person's life. I didn't inherit the memory gene and I wouldn't remember any of them. That never stopped mom, that just made her give you more detail as if that would stir some part of your brain into remembering. Bless her, she never thought I was a lost cause.

For five years mom had been slowly losing her memory in startling ways and for the past two and a half it had really begun to progress. I am sure dad had been in denial and then when he had to start picking up some of the slack like paying the bills and doing more of the cooking while he still tried to fit in everything else he wanted to do, that he just got overwhelmed and kept on putting off the inevitable planning for their future, especially mom's care.

So mom came home with me to Alberta to live with my family for six months. We arrived December 29th and she settled in. Pat and I moved out of our room so mom could have the master bedroom with bathroom and we began to discover who Alda is. What we found out was surprisingly wonderful. Mom had entered a phase in her life when everything was new and she had the time to notice it all. The simplest of things were a joy to her, the sun in the sky, the cloud formations, the birds that flew by, the cat in the neighbour's window, the children playing across the street, each phase of the moon, ice cream for dessert – nothing was too small to catch her attention. While I raced around trying to get it all done, mom became fixated in the moment and let each moment capture her soul. I began to realize that I hadn't lost the mom I knew, I had gained the opportunity to get to know the person she is, fully alive and more than the sum of her memories. She is whole the way she is, the moment being all there is. I knew I had a great teacher in my midst and I am still gaining insight into all the lessons she gave me.

Mom went back to Toronto in late June after our trip to Iceland and has been staying with my sister Peggy and her family. She will soon move into an assisted living retirement home and I can't say that she is excited. There has been so much change for her and it hasn't always been easy. We have learned more about how to help her adjust and at the same time we know that there will be challenges ahead. Coming home to visit allowed us to pick mom up and take her to Gimli for a family reunion. Hanging out with mom again is a real treat, she keeps the smile on our face with all of her sayings and doings.

Last night we went to Happy Hour at Betel (the nursing home in Gimli where her sister Emma is) and the old-time music was playing. Mom got her toes a tapping, her favorite thing to do is dance and when the opportunity came, I went over and brought her out for a twirl. In that moment there was nothing else, just Alda and me dancing in pure joy. That's what real memory is, an imprint of a moment on your soul. Remembering is a totally different thing and so I know that whatever happens, this moment will be with me forever. Thanks for all the memories mom. I love you.

Watch Alda & me Dancing – Betel – Happy Hour – August 13, 2010

Alda and me dancing - Betel - August 13, 2010 from Edith Mackenzie on Vimeo.

Our Stars Are Aligned Today...

Back in Gimli and I am reading our daily horoscopes in the Winnipeg Free Press. They were accurate last time and I have no reason to doubt them now. It seems like our stars are aligned and we are going to have a great day.

Cancer (Me): Relations with others, especially family members, are much improved today! In large measure, this is because you are diplomatic and charming. This is a good day for negotiations, writing, teaching, acting and just shmoozing in general. Hmmm, much improved today with an exclamation mark no less. I wonder what that means – have I been a super B*&ch these past few days? I won't ask, I am apparently on a roll with my wonderfully charming self. I will stick to writing this and not push my luck with anything else, well maybe a bit of shmoozing…

Libra (Denise): You might feel a bit more emotional than usual today but you really don't mind because you feel so much better! Make plans to party with others or, alternatively, to enjoy a quiet day or evening by yourself. Either way, you will feel surprisingly content with life. More emotional!!! I don't think that's possible. We have made plans to go to Happy Hour at Betel (the Nursing Home in Gimli). We will be doing a sing-a-long and we can even get a glass of wine – sounds like a party to me! In the meantime she has been laying on the couch at Dilla's and enjoying a quiet day by ignoring us. Good strategy Denise.

Aquarius (Pat): Gifts, goodies and favours from others might come your way today. It definitely appears you can benefit from the wealth and resources of others. Therefore, keep smiling and keep your pockets open. Okay, maybe Pat's isn't super accurate today, so far he has spent the afternoon doing some cleaning as a favour for my aunt. However, her sign is the same as Pat's and so her horoscope is accurate – she has been getting favours done all day. I helped her with her computer most of the afternoon (she is 82 and it's impressive she uses it as much as she does).

Aries (Mom): Relations with partners and close friends are much improved today. Nevertheless, the moon, Venus, Mars and Saturn all oppose your sign now. Therefore, be pliable, elastic and flexible with others. (Smart.) Plus this means you can bounce back from anything. Oh yes, much improved today…lots more smiles and a good laugh at herself this afternoon. She brought a handful of papers to Dilla telling her what she found (all Dilla's stuff) and I asked what she was doing with them, she replied, “Finding out things.” Yes, Miss Snoop is in full gear and she is definitely elastic – she can reach into corners where we have hidden things from her. That's one benefit of dementia, everything you see is yours. I think that is really flexible.

Let's hope the stars stay in alignment for us, just two more days and we are homeward bound – another 17–18 hour road trip. What FUN! I wonder if we will be talking to each other at the end of this. Denise might want to plan another quiet day to herself when we get home. Well we are off to Happy Hour at Betel….

Chilling with Gilligan

Okay, she isn't Gilligan, but she sure looks like it with her sun hat on. When she is sitting back relaxed, she is lots of fun to be with and to chill with. She smiles easily, loves to laugh and has stories to tell. Her stories are about her childhood, her family and school. Mom must have loved going to school because so many of her memories are tied to that part of her life.

While she likes to be with us hanging out, she likes the idea more than the reality. Being in Toronto we want to go shopping and sight-seeing. When you ask mom if she wants to come along, she is always up for it and eagerly gets ready to go (just give her 30 minutes notice so she might be ready by the time you need to head out the door). Leave the house and already she starts whining about the heat (who wouldn't) and having to go out. Get her in the car and she wants to know where we are going and by the time you are on the road she is wondering what we are doing and why we have to be doing this. Stop and go to do some shopping and then the real sighing will begin, complaints about how old she is and that she really can't be doing this anymore. There are benefits to being older – you get to say exactly what you feel.

“So tell me again,” is what she is saying now, this being a familiar refrain. We are looping about our plans for tomorrow, heading back to Gimli and taking her with us so she can visit with her family and be there for the Minerva homecoming. Mom and I stayed behind for the afternoon, letting the younger ones (okay Pat doesn't really fit that description), go shopping. I wouldn't say that mom's children are thick, but we are a bit slow. It takes us several attempts at including her in all the activity before we learn that while she may want to join in, the reality is that she can't cope. While she truly does love us and her grandchildren (in theory-memory), the reality of all of us at once is too much for her now. One-on-one is so much better for her, she gets her sparkle back.

So here we are just the two of us. Her smile is close at hand and I am enjoying just hanging with my mom. Every moment is a joy no matter what comes up, every moment is one more moment with a great woman who I know loves me completely the way I was meant to be loved, for who I am not who I will be – the present is all we have. In her mind I am perfect even if the reality isn't all that it is cracked up to be.

Thanks mom.

Of Monarch Butterflies and Dad

Skipping a few days, here we are in Sarnia, the family home. We arrived in Toronto on August 3rd, reunited with Robert, mom, Peggy, Jeff and Ian and had a fabulous supper, courtesy of Robert & Jeff. Yes Karina, there is a Santa Claus (okay great chefs which is your version of a Santa Claus).

We left for Sarnia on August 4th and got to the family home on Lake Huron – 150 feet of beach beckoning us all. Our children have great memories of this place, summers spent on the beach, doing chores with Grampa, keeping track of your towels and avoiding the wrath of Amma for bringing the sand into the house.

Upon arrival we had a special treat waiting for us. Outside the front porch windows, mom and dad had planted milkweed which attracts the monarch butterflies. They lay their eggs on the plant which is a great evolutionary approach to the butterfly's survival. When they consume the milkweed it makes them toxic to their potential predators. Memories of thousands of beautiful monarch butterflies arriving in the spring and leaving in late summer filled my mind. I loved the butterflies as a child, not the caterpillars. I now found it all fascinating that we could watch the whole process out the front window. It reminded me of dad telling us how the milkweed was essential to the monarch's survival and once he knew that he made sure the milkweed was protected on their property.

We had 3 stages of the butterfly present out the front window. The caterpillar, the pupa and the adult butterfly. Robert eagerly got his camera out to take numerous pictures of the different stages, the highlight being the butterfly emerging from the pupa.

It all seemed fitting, life goes on even when others have passed on. Dad's physical presence was missing from the house but his spirit was all around. He was here in our memories and in the knowledge he passed on to us, the appreciation of nature and the laughter we all shared. We interned dad's ashes on Saturday, August 7th. We had a beautiful sunny day, family, close friends and stories to tell. What more could we ask for – thank you dad, I love you.

Welcome to An Eruption of Thought...

Why start a blog? Good question…one I have been asking myself as I gear up to go online. I have always wanted to write and have in bits and pieces, never seriously. I wanted to write a great novel and couldn't keep at it long enough and then just gave up. It kept niggling at me…you have to write, get your butt in gear, just do it. Then our daughter went to Kenya for 7 weeks and our oldest son created a blog for her to post a travel diary to share with family and friends, and the idea came that this is how I could start to write – in snippets, fits and starts, just let it all flow out.

It fits with my personality, a desire to create and a huge desire to purge. My home and my office is constantly being purged – I could have been a great nun in a monastery. Give me a bed, a table, chair and nothing else to clutter up my space. But the one place I haven't purged, that needs a good house cleaning is my mind. I am a headcase, my thoughts jumbled, overflowing, disorganized, all-consuming and energy sapping. I can see my blog as a great place to give away, recycle, dump and organize my mind. I can free up space, de-clutter and hopefully breathe without the “whirling dervishes” of my thoughts consuming me. At the same time I can have a creative outlet, let it go organic and grow into whatever all this thought wants to be.

I am ready. Now is the time to act, no longer try, just be. To start I have set up categories that I will post to, maybe they will stay, maybe not. Like a kitchen cupboard, you start off placing objects in cupboards & drawers thinking it will work best that way and then rearrange as you find it needs tweaking. Right now I have a General Eruptions of Thought/Opinions category that will be a catchall of musings. Free Ideas will be my space to give-away ideas I have had for novels, products, business ventures, etc. that I haven't used and don't see myself using. Why not give it away to someone who can do something with it?

Reading/Movies will track books/movies I have read/watched and any comments that I want to let out. Travel will be about the travel that I do or maybe want to do.

What does the Icelandic volcano, Eyjafjallajökull, have to do with my blog? My mom is of Icelandic descent and grew up in Gimli, Manitoba. I recently went on a trip with her, my 2 sisters and my 2 aunts to Iceland. The name for the blog came from that, a reference to my Icelandic roots and the power of the volcano to erupt and purge the lava from its core. My thoughts now have the vent it needs to flow out and become a part of the landscape…..