Dads: Not just an oatmeal cookie

June 16, 2013 by Created by RCW

A wondrous Father’s Day to all of you men and women who have provided guidance, structure and love to the next generation.

Being a Dad is about more than genetics; it’s about putting yourself out there for another human being and making sacrifices to help them be the best human being they possibly can. It’s about knowing when to cling tight and when to let go. It’s about providing rules while allowing freedom.

When you put a child on your shoulders, you put all of us on your shoulders, for the connections you make with that child today will resonate with everyone that child touches in later life.

Today, we lift you on our shoulders and say thank you for helping create so many beautiful people.

I celebrate all of my friends who are fathers and in particular, my brother Scott, who I respect more than he can imagine for what he has done with my nephew and nieces. That is the true mark of a man. Well done, bro.

And more personally, thank you Grandad. You meant the world to me. You gave me guidance, you gave me love, you gave me beer when no one was looking. You were not perfect, but that didn’t make you any less a role model.

: My great-grandfather dares he to hit him with a bucket of water (1965)

: I traveled to Western Canada with my grandparents in 1976 (and out east the next summer).

: I lived with my grandparents while attending undergrad. I was very happy they could later attend my M.Sc. graduation. (1992)

: My brother Scott and nephew Cameron taking in a Toronto Marlies hockey game with me this past Boxing Day. (2012)

Long weekendless

May 17, 2013 by Created by RCW

It’s a long weekend, this weekend in Canada. We’re celebrating Victoria Day, which is a celebration of either the capital of British Columbia, a previous Queen of half the planet, or a friend of mine who blogs Victoriously.

Regardless of what we call it, however, it is a celebration of Spring (welcome to Canada) and of drinking beer on patios and at cottages—the May Two-Four weekend, as some of us older folks recall it (commemorating the Canadian single-serving case of 24 bottles).

What makes this year’s version a little odd for me is that for the last year or so, every weekend has been a long weekend, for I am a freelance writer. On any given Monday or Friday, I can choose not to work. Likewise, on any given Saturday or Sunday, you are likely to find me working. Day nomenclature has ceased to hold meaning for me.

For all intents and purposes—and I have plenty of both—the only real difference between a Wednesday and a Saturday is how many of my friends can come out to play at 2 o’clock in the afternoon. And most of my friends are in entertainment, journalism or science, so even that constriction isn’t very strict.

Admittedly, I am less likely to hold an interview for an article assignment on the weekend, but those are few and far between.

Now, my freedom comes at a price…or lack of a price, as the case may be. My pay packet is smaller than it once was. I have no health benefits but what the government gives me (welcome to Canada!). I often have to make myself go for a walk to ensure I get some exercise.

However…I don’t attend meetings. If my boss is an ass, I’m probably looking in the mirror. My commute is maybe two metres. And my drinking problem doesn’t seem to be suffering (phew!).

This morning, I seriously argued with myself as to whether I was going to work on a feature due next week or take my camera out for a walk…and it could have gone either way (I strangely decided to work on my feature).

I have no family about whom to worry or of whom I need to take care, so I understand I have a luxury of options that many feel they cannot afford.

At the same time, I watch many of my responsible friends—typically the ones who can’t come out to play at either 2 o’clock—and see them dig themselves an early grave, fighting to give their families everything except the one thing their families probably want most of all: themselves.

I may die tonight—exercising that drinking problem—or I may live for another hundred years. I don’t know. But either way, I’m not worried about it. I don’t have a timer on things to accomplish.

That’s a nice feeling.

All y’all have a great series of days that may be a weekend!

Dorothy’s Day

May 12, 2013 by Created by RCW

Aside from my wife and my mother, the most important woman in my life was my grandmother Dorothy, who encouraged and advised me at every turn in my life. I stayed with my grandparents while I attended college and my first apartment was literally two doors down the same apartment hallway. She has always been my friend.

Dorothy passed away last year. When she did, I was given an old family photo album and as I have this nice little scanner, I thought hmmmm.

In honour of Mother’s Day and because my grandmother’s birthday was May 15^th, I offer the following retrospective album of Gram as I have known her and as I wish you all could have.

If she were still alive, I am confident she would be worried all to hell about my current artistic adventures and spirit journey, but I also know she would give me all her love and support…and maybe a few hands of cribbage to keep me honest.

I miss you, Gram.

: No mangers or donkeys, just my grandmother and I by the Christmas tree

: My mother, grandmother and great-grandmother fighting over who got to hold me next (Mom eventually won)

: My grandparents liked to clown around every summer when they would haul trailer to Algonquin

: They were the Lucy and Ricky of my family…and if you don’t know the reference, look it up

: No matter how old I got, my grandmother always had the same expression when I was telling her something important

: Part of the Western haul was a stop in Canmore, Alberta

: We stopped at the salmon sluices at Hell’s Gate

: My grandparents took me on their annual western drive to BC, where I finally met my cousins Susan and Ian

: My grandmother had a magnificent sense of humour, and laughed even harder when she didn’t get it

: Pre-Xmas dinner at my brother’s house a handful of years ago

: You’d never guess that my grandmother was a proud woman from this photo. Scott, my brother, seems a little unsettled

: She adored her great-grandson Cameron

: Two very important ladies. Leela and I took Gram to a Moroccan restaurant for her birthday…couldn’t get her to belly dance

: Perhaps my most cherished photo of the two of us

Mother’s Day

May 11, 2013 by Created by RCW

Beating the race to post the first Mother’s Day tribute on my blog.

With one exception, these are all photos from my trip to British Columbia last autumn, and I am confident that my mom will think she looks like hell in each and everyone of these photos. That’s my mom!

: Mum helped with my photography at Minter Gardens by pointing out each and every flower, butterfly and tree

: Mom checks out the work of a local metal sculptor in Chilliwack, no doubt thinking of home decor

: This is actually two photos I have Photoshopped together (not true)

: Mum delights in playfully letting Roger and I know our limitations

: Less of a CanCan and more of a JanJan near the top of Mount Baker, Washington

: One of the rare times I actually let mom pose for a photo (Mt. Baker, Washington)

: In this case, the weather at Tofino was pretty awful but it was a great day for photography

: Can’t remember the function, but this is (L to R) Mom, her aunt Fran, her mom Dorothy and her cousin Noel

Go fly a kite

April 5, 2013 by Created by RCW

Have you ever taken your camera out for a stroll and accidentally come upon a party? Well, it happened to me while wandering The Mall in Washington, DC, approaching the Washington Monument.

What started as a couple of kites fluttering through the sky on a sunny, windy day quickly degenerated into a morass of people all trying to get kites into the air, lines crossing and wrapping around tree limbs. Kids practically being lifted off the ground by kites much too large.

It was as though a rainbow had exploded and rained down on the people below. Chaotic, but definitely spirit-lifting.