NEUSTADT, ON. ILLUSTRATOR CREATES MASSIVE "BLUE SKY, WHITE SNOW" PORTRAIT OF ALL TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS PLAYERS, 1917-2017

Gary McLaughlin and his Toronto Maple Leafs 100th anniversary portrait on display in his Neustadt, ON gallery.

The hockey season may be over for our Toronto Maple Leafs, but not for Gary McLaughlin of nearby Neustadt, ON.  He has a year 'round passion for the NHL hockey team.

In 2007 the commercial illustrator created a "masterpiece" to commemorate the Maple Leafs 100th anniversary.  Remarkably, he has since redone the painting to immortalize every player to don the Toronto Arena, St. Patricks and Maple Leafs jersey from 1917 to 2017.

Whether a player made one shift or had a long career with the Toronto franchise, the six-foot by 12-foot portrait dubbed "Blue Sky, White Snow" depicts the faces of all 973 players to wear the jersey in the first 100 years.

With the help of friends, McLaughlin started with a tremendous amount of research to find names and faces of the players.  In the fall of 2005 he began work on the massive canvas while also working on other commercial projects.  He started with the Maple Leafs symbol in the middle and added all of the team's Hall of Fame players onto it.

McLaughlin completed the work of art three years later and it was sold to a Toronto man in 2011.  The work was appraised at $143,000.  The original was subsequently displayed in Queens Park, including a few other places, before finding a home in the old Maple Leaf Gardens facing the ice rink where the Ryerson University athletic department is now located.

Unfortunately the canvas was damaged by vandals a couple of years ago and returned to Neustadt for repair. Insurance covered the damage and the artist started the meticulous refurbishing process.  He used a palm sander on the damaged areas of the canvas and then decided to redo the piece to incorporate all the players for the Maple Leafs in time for the club's 100th anniversary.

"At first I thought it was gone for good but if it hadn't been damaged it would not have been expanded and updated," he said in a recent interview.  The top of the portrait now features all three arenas the franchise has played in as well as the Hockey Hall of Fame.

The title "Blue Sky, White Snow" was derived from a reference of former Maple Leafs owner Conn Smythe when he changed the team colors to blue and white, representing the Canadian skies and snow.

To keep the canvas from being vandalized again, it is now housed at McLaughlin's Riversong Gallery in Neustadt, but McLaughlin says he would like to have it displayed in the Air Canada Centre in Toronto, or a museum. "I think it should be in a public place," McLaughlin said.  "It would be a shame if someone bought it only to put in a basement rec room."

He explained that since it has been back in Neustadt a lot of people have come through the door of his gallery especially to see the portrait, including family members of a few ex-Maple Leafs players.  "Many of the visitors from across the province have wanted their picture taken with it," he adds proudly.

The gallery does not have regular hours and it is suggested that if people are interested in seeing the work of art, it is best to email McLaughlin at info@garymclaughlinartist.com to set up a time and date.

Meantime, the owner of the work is in the process of setting up a website to sell replica copies.

A PASSING THOUGHT: MY LATEST VIDEO

THE CREATIVE POWER OF THOUGHTS *(click to view)

FAILURES? AWE YES, I'VE HAD A FEW!

I’ve often heard the expression “Anything worth doing is worth failing at.” How very true. So whatever you choose to do in life on your quest for success — go for it! Fail well and fail often… only then will you become master of your own life.

By the time I was 19, I had experienced more than my fair share of failure. Let me count some of the ways...

1. I dropped out of high school on the eve of Grade 12 final exams, because I knew that I was destined to fail and why put myself through the agony.
2. I didn't make the grade in not one but two attempts at professional baseball.
3. My first bonafide love affair ended in rejection (her mother didn't want her daughter involved with a ball player).
4. I was turned down by a Canadian Army recruiting officer and told to go back to school.

The above occurring all within a period of 14 months.  Really, a heck of a way for a young man to begin life in the real world. The pattern of one failure after another would follow me the rest of my life and I will admit to resultant periodic bouts of melancholy and wishing "if I could only do it all over again.".

In simple terms, however, I am the sum total of all my failures. My failures have defined who I am. I've had many a friend throw me a surprised look when I tell them that I own all my failures, that I don't look back at them with feelings of remorse or guilt, that it doesn't make me cringe when I think about them. Because I believed every failure opened new doors and presented opportunities for personal growth. 

Failure has made me more humble; it has taught me how wrong I can be in some instances. Failure has also helped me realize how resilient I am. Bouncing back after a setback is something I had great difficulty in doing initially. But, over repeated and prolonged experiences of setbacks and failures, I don't find it that much of a challenge anymore.

Failure, above everything else, has made me trust my abilities and skills. The moment I started believing in my abilities to ride out the storm, the foundations of the storm itself weakened to a considerable degree.

Every failure made me want to try something new and boy, have I tried a lot of things -- with varying degrees of success, or failure, depending how I wanted to look at it.

Therefore, failure has made me more adventurous and human than I ever thought I would be. It made me see the world in a whole new light and appreciate and recognize the value of everything I have, by God's good grace, even more.

Bottom line, I have become pretty good a failure and that makes me feel damn proud. I can fail with the best of 'em!

OH THE WORTHINESS OF THE VIBES WE RADIATE

I have had some experience lately with giving out what presumably was the wrong impressions. That is easy to do, particularly when it comes to Facebook dialogue that can easily be misinterpreted because it hides true inner character.  Generally speaking, the written word more often than not has to be patronizing in order to be accepted, or liked by people who you have never met in person.

Quite frankly, there have been times when I got the feeling that I was giving off a "stinking" impression, particularly with my penchant for getting under the skin of self-absorbed people.

It is quite different with personal contact where words are not necessarily required to give out influences -- or vibes.  We do this in the same way that each flower emits its particular odor.  The rose breathes out its fragrance upon the air and all who come near it are pleasantly impacted.

A poisonous weed, however, sends out an obnoxious odor and if one remains near it for long they may be so unpleasantly affected as to be made ill by it.

Interestingly, we are told that the mariners who sailed on the Indian Seas, many times were able to tell their approach to certain islands long before they saw them by the sweet fragrance of sandalwood that wafted far out onto the deep.

Such are the subtle powers of the human soul when it makes itself translucent to the Devine Order. There is a message for us in all of this. Each one of us is continually radiating an atmosphere, or vibe of one kind or another, that people pick up on. Ideally, and in a perfect world, we cultivate and radiate positive soulful impressions that are conducive to love, peace and joy all around us. It is a worthy intention.

I just find it difficult to go around smelling nice all the time just so that I can be readily accepted by all and sundry.  Maybe I'm more like the deceptive Hollyhock, virtually odorless and just a little prickly if rubbed the wrong way.

THE GOOD, BAD AND UGLY OF POLITICAL LEADERSHIP

In a Wrights Lane video I vented about government debt that will most certainly end up being nothing but a tax on future generations. I purposely stayed away from any references to particular federal or provincial leaders.

History, however, is replete with examples of good and bad leaders...Nothing new there.

Queen Elizabeth 1, for instance, was a much respected monarch who said: "It is not given to man to tax and be loved."  One would presume that what she meant was that a ruler cannot tax excessively and be respected by his or her subjects.  She practiced what she preached, taxed modestly and was adored by her nation.

Peter the Great was a Russian Czar who followed a long line of incompetent leaders. He abolished the plow tax and the household tax which together had been crippling the economy and replaced them with a simple and single poll tax on all males.  Peasants who worked hard and purchased new equipment and lands could keep the extra revenues generated.  He at least temporarily reversed the declining Russian economy by remaking the tax system, stimulating economic growth and decentralizing the state.

William Tell is famed in Switzerland not for shooting an apple off his son's head, but for inciting a successful tax revolt against Austria's King Rudolph. In 1315, Rudolph's troops descended on the Swiss infantry outnumbering them almost 10-1 and were still defeated...Apparently the Swiss were stronger when mad than the Austrians were greedy.

Sticking to the good, the bad and the ugly in leadership throughout history, modern Canadiana has had its share of the bad.  In the 1970s the Liberals gave us such an enormous per capita bureaucracy it was laughable on the world stage, and Pierre Trudeau himself will forever be remembered as the godfather of deficit financing.

Despite PC leader Brian Mulroney's '84 campaign promise to give civil servants "pink slips and running shoes," like a good liberal he hired a whole bunch more when he became PM and gave us the GST.  As England's Margaret Thatcher noted in her memoirs, he was a Progressive Conservative who placed far too much emphasis on the adjective.

Sometimes ya just gotta laugh!  It beats crying.

POLITICALLY SPEAKING: ANOTHER DAY OLDER AND DEEPER IN DEBT

*Click on the arrow and be sure to enlarge the screen for better viewing.

NOT SO BAD AFTER ALL: I PASSED MY OVER 80 DRIVING TEST

It is with a great deal of relief that I herewith announce that I successfully passed my first over 80 driving test yesterday in Owen Sound and for you youngens whose time has yet to come, don't worry -- it is a piece of cake.

It is interesting to note that Ontario has the highest concentration of seniors in Canada and it is the only province to to test drivers over 80 years of age, which in retrospect seems quite logical.

Naturally, it is a shock when you receive that first notice announcing that you will be required to take a compulsory driving test before your license can be renewed, especially when you are still feeling kind of good about yourself because you have just reached that 80 years milestone. I found my initial shock turning to resentment, discrimination and anger, then finally anxiety.  Everyone in my test class expressed experiencing similar emotions, all so unnecessary as it turned out.

GOOD FOR ANOTHER TWO YEARS

It’s a touchy subject. As our population ages, our idea of what constitutes “old” shifts accordingly. “Old” is always someone who is … older than me. Is it discriminatory to obligate someone who has been driving for 60 years to undergo retesting? No. Just like it’s not discriminatory to not allow 15-year-olds to drive, or 18-year-olds to drink, or 54-year-olds to get a deal at Shoppers Drug Mart on senior’s day. We put barriers in place all the time for many reasons.

Driving barriers are usually there for safety reasons. When you’re piloting a tonne of killing machine, there should be barriers. If you’re a lousy driver and rack up demerit points, you can lose your licence at any age. But the same way most places have adopted a graduated licence for people learning to drive, it makes sense to acknowledge the very act of aging can have an impact on those same skills.

That said, and in all fairness, seniors continue to have the best driving record of all driving groups in Ontario, so good on us!

Currently, if you’re 70 and over and have an at-fault collision, you could be required to take the G2 exit road test at a Drive Test facility. This is a strict component of our law. Admittedly, years of driving ingrain some bad habits, and the test forces an individual all the way back to basics.  And there is nothing wrong with a refresher.

When you hit 80 in Ontario, you are required to take part in the aforementioned retesting. In a conference room setting, you’ll be with about 15 other people. Your driving record will have already been reviewed. You will do a vision test, in a machine like the one you’ve seen in an optician's office. You will also view a 45-minute video that presents some scenarios to start discussion. It talks about new laws and road signs along with tips for older drivers. You’ll explore strengths that senior drivers have, from experience and judgment and their sense of responsibility, and limitations including changes in vision, loss of flexibility and compromised reaction times.

Finally, a newly implemented test addresses cognitive impairment. You will be shown a clock face with a time indicated, which is then taken down. You have five minutes to draw a circle, put in the clock numbers, and have the hands indicate the time. This tests visuospatial ability, how you recognize and organize information.

Next, you are  given a sheet of paper containing a block of letters. You have five minutes to cross out all the Hs. This tests psychomotor speed – how fast you can interpret and co-ordinate information.
Cognitive skills aren’t tested by memorizing information, which is why these tests are so important. Deceptively simple to those with no cognitive impairment, they are instantly revealing of those who are cognitively impaired.

After age 65, 10 per cent of the population will have mild dementia, which can increase the chance of a crash by 4.7 per cent. Adjusted for miles driven, Statistics Canada reveals that drivers over 70 are the second highest group to be involved in a collision, behind only teen males. An even bigger danger? It’s those older drivers who are less likely to have good outcomes. With age comes fragility, and fatality rates are higher than for those males. You may not be involved in a high-speed crash, but your ability to recover even from the small ones is compromised.

Years of research apparently went into the new test, spearheaded by CANDRIVE, an international association that combines the work of researchers in many disciplines. Their aim is to keep older drivers driving, safely. The cognitive tests have been used for some time in other settings and they present no language barrier.

Both the Ontario Ministry of Transport and researchers stress this exercise is not about yanking licences, but about keeping seniors driving safely for as long as they can. You could be required to take a road test based on the outcome of this classroom session, or be required to follow-up with your doctor for further medical information.

In my group of 16 testers, one man was not granted a licence renewal due to peripheral vision problems and was referred for further optical tests while a woman was deferred pending a subsequent road test at a later date.  Otherwise 14 of us walked away feeling very much like we did some 65-70 years ago when we received a passing grade from a school teacher.

After all, it isn't every day you get to correctly draw a clock and pick the "H" out of a mass of letters.

The over 80 test is done every two years until...you voluntarily resolve to quit driving or you pass on to your Heavenly reward.  Which ever comes first.

MY EVERYDAY LIFE AS A PRIMARY CAREGIVER

WHERE ROSANNE LIVES 24/7:  My wife would shoot me if she knew I snapped this photo.  She has not allowed her photo to be taken since we were married, September, 2002.

There is no end of supportive advice for individuals who find themselves in the unfortunate position of  being a primary care giver for a family loved one.  The only problem is that very little, if anything, has been written by those who actually have lived the life of a care giver.

None of us, young or old, ever dream of living out our twilight years sentenced to a primary care giving role. That is just not the way the cookie is supposed to crumble.

You know, "the plan was idealistically to grow old together – holding hands, in rocking chairs on the porch and enjoying the grand-kids."  For many couples, this part of the dream has not quite come true. For those who have found themselves in the all too common position of being a caregiver to their spouse – the story has changed drastically.

Not too surprisingly, over 56% of the 50 million family caregivers are solely responsible for a spouse, according to the National Family Caregivers Association. I am a member of that not-too-exclusive club, not once but twice during the last 23 years of my life (10 years caring for a terminally ill first wife and 11 with second wife Rosanne.)  It is not fair, but what are you going to do?

Suffice to say, I am a battle-scarred veteran of the caregiver war -- twice over.  Thank God that I will never come this way again.

There is no escape valve for a care giver. Unless you are heartless, there is no alternative but to make the best of a very bad situation: 1) Because you love the other half in your relationship and 2) you are committed to an "in sickness and health" nuptial vow.  Bottom line, you find strength and staying power you never knew you had.

But, make no mistake, it can be frustrating, depressing, exhausting -- and lonely.

It is not my intention to cry on your shoulder with this post, dear friend.  I merely want to tell it like it is in the hope that there will be a few who can relate to my experience and a few more who will understand. Still others, yet to walk in my shoes, can also tuck what I say in their memory bank for, God help them, future reference.

When you become a primary caregiver, for all intents and purposes you give up your previous life. There is no time for hobbies, special interests and previous socializing.  Out of necessity, you prioritize and acquire skills previously foreign to you, like shopping for all household necessities (grocery stores, drug stores, banking) cooking, house keeping, laundry. You literally learn the hard way to become the equivalent of a practical nurse.

RosanneNme, September 14, 2002
Little did we know then...

In my case, Rosanne has become increasingly limited in the things she can do for herself, including toiletry, bathing and personal hygiene in general. She is confined 24/7 to her lift chair in our living room cum hospital room, dependent on me for absolutely everything.  Cancer, colitis, CO PD, gross obesity, fibromyalgia, onslaught of dementia and psychological issues all contribute to her current delicate condition.  I am interrupted countless times a day to attend to particular needs. For instance, I started writing an hour ago and have been called away from the computer three times, first to empty the commode and to attend to her after a bowel movement, then to get a glass of ice water followed by a request to pick up a TV converter that had been dropped...Story of my life!.

Untold times a day I hear "Oh Dick, oh Dick!"  When I ask, "What is it Rosanne?" invariably she replies "Oh nothing...Just Oh Dick." I have come to fully understand the meaning behind those words of exasperation, discomfort and helplessness.

The poor dear girl tries hard not to be overly demanding and needy, but there are frequent times when she cannot help herself.  A disabled person requires a lot of attention and that goes with the territory.

After supper at night I begin to run out of steam, patience and tolerance.  With any luck Rosanne will dose off to sleep and that is my opportunity to escape to my office and trusty computer where I derive therapy through genealogy research, writing and plain and simple mind wandering.  Many mornings I am still at it when the sun comes up and I hear Rosanne asking "Is breakfast ready*?"

Thankfully Rosanne sleeps a lot through the day too and I take advantage of the lull for those blessed cat naps that are such a salvation for any primary care giver. Regardless, I am constantly fatigued.

I find that communication is vital in situations like ours.  I try to keep Rosanne apprised of what is going on in the outside world.  I frequently ask her how she is feeling...and more often than not get a vague answer. When I can draw her away from the television soap operas, game shows and old movies that have become her life, we engage in small talk and -- yes, arguments over silly, small matters that are the result of mutual frustrations and frayed emotions.

Rosanne is a second-guesser by nature, especially when it comes to money management, my shopping choices, meal menus and my frequent lapses of memory.  I have never been a woulda, shoulda, coulda sort of guy and frequently find myself in the position of being damned if I do and damned if I don't....That's when I find it better to turn the other cheek and to develop selective hearing.

One of my major challenges is to keep a sufficient variety of food on hand to meet Rosanne's fluctuating tastes. I insist, however, on not becoming a sort-order chef capable of producing on demand.  Hardly a day goes by when I do not have to run to the grocery store to pick up something I had inadvertently forgotten in the previous day's shopping trip.

I often feel guilty and hate myself when through my anxiety I have been insensitive and said things that I wish I hadn't. I try not to let those types of situations pass without an apology and a gentle hug or a consoling stroke on the arm.  There is something to be said about skin-on-skin contact.

On the upside, Rosanne has a short memory. She does not hold a grudge and frequently tells me how grateful she is a and how much she loves me.  She has a soft heart and is extremely emotional, crying one minute and laughing the next. I make light of situations and tease her a lot.  She, in return, threatens me with physical harm.  We share a unique brand of joviality.

I should probably explain here what I meant when I mentioned being lonely in the introduction to this piece. There is a big difference between being lonely and being alone. Many spouse caregivers talk about the loneliness of being a caregiver – even, or perhaps especially, when their spouse is right there with them. When the person you married is no longer able to be as present in the relationship – the loneliness can feel worse than if they were not there at all. Often there is a sense of resentment and anger that they did not hold up their end of the bargain...that fate has dealt you a cruel blow. We continually make allowances and avoid speaking about what once was. The past becomes but a distant memory.

A long time ago I stopped attending church and other public gatherings because I got tired of well-meaning people asking "how's your wife?"  I simply ran out of answers and meaningful explanations when people, in the end, do not understand the circumstances anyway. Generally, I believe, there is a perception that a gravely ill person either gets better -- or dies.

I see other couples our age enjoying a pleasant repast in a local coffee shop or restaurant, taking vacations together, attending social activities, walking hand-in-hand past our house on warm summer evenings...and I am envious.  My heart aches. If only we could do those things once again. We had so little time after marrying. I had hoped for more.

The stock suggestion for people in my situation is: "Consider giving up the tasks that are the most taxing or perhaps cause the most stress on your relationship. Having a paid caregiver do the bathing, incontinence care and feeding for example, can allow you to get back to being in a marriage with your partner – focusing on sharing, visiting or just being together. Try to allow yourself the time to just 'be' with your partner – not always focusing on what you need to 'do'."

To which I say "very ideal, but in reality much easier said that done."

Allow me to explain.

In the past 10 years, Rosanne has been hospitalized for extended intensive-care stays on three different occasions, the most recent being last spring and summer when she was a month-long respite care patient in Southampton before being transferred to a rehabilitation facility in Wiarton for another three-month period.  She was deemed well enough to return home in August, although I think that more honestly they needed her bed.  If I was not prepared to resume primary care responsibilities at home, officials confided that they did not know what they would do with her, nor where they could send her next. 

As before, we were again provided with home care services that included regular visits by nurses and personal aid attendants, physio and occupational therapists and case mangers. This on top of technicians calling regularly to monitor Rosanne's oxygen equipment. Our home became a glorified Grand Central Station. We are very private people and the constant "invasion" caused us undue stress. 

In time Care Partner visits became redundant and when it was obvious that I was more than capable of taking care of Rosanne on my own, our case was terminated pending future need.  We rejoiced...our home was our own again. Outside help may be the answer in some instances, but not ours. Ultimately I will know when enough is enough.

So we carry on, taking one day at at time.  A few weeks ago we had to cancel Rosanne's final chemotherapy appointment in Owen Sound because she was simply not travel worthy. I do not know what will become of that development.  Meantime we mark time.

I struggle with the thought of what would become of Rosanne if my health started to decline.  I'm 10 years older than her and you never know. In the past 10 years I have had major foot and ankle surgery and a total hip replacement.  Shoulder surgery has been put on hold for obvious reasons and out of necessity I continue to grin and bear it, like I do so many other things in our life.

We soldier on, the two of us.  We'll do this our way because we would not have it any other way.

I'm in for the long haul, come what may.  I'm kind of stubborn that way.

"Oh Dick, oh Dick!"

*NOTE FROM DICK:  If still interested, you are invited to read about my first stint as a caregiver for the first Mrs. Wright, Anne (1940-2000).  See "One Couple's Struggle With Cancer" https://dicktheblogster2.blogspot.ca/.

KERRY LEITCH: THE REMARKABLE STORY OF A BASEBALL CATCHER CUM NOTED NATIONAL FIGURE SKATING COACH

Kerry Leitch is shown on the left in this 1959 photo with other London Majors teammates, Crawford Douglas, Stan "Gabby" Anderson and Roy McKay.

I am fascinated by people of contrasts, especially those who have the aptitude and motivation to live their contrasts to the fullest.

I don't often write about guys I played sports against but Woodstock's Kerry Leitch is an exception, not only because he was a good all 'round athlete but because of the unusual mix of the two main sports he was involved in -- baseball and figure skating.

I first learned about Kerry Leitch when reading The London Free Press sports pages in 1954 and '55. His name cropped up frequently in connection with the London Majors of the Senior Intercounty Baseball League.  I came across him in person in the summer of  '55 when teams from Wallaceburg and Strathroy met in a neutral grounds OBA playoff final in my hometown of Dresden, ON.  Kerry was a catcher and his battery mate in that game was Paul Langlois of River Canard (Windsor) who would later become a member of the Intercounty's St. Thomas Elgins and a life-long personal friend.

In those days, as I recall, London Majors had a working arrangement with nearby Strathroy, where younger players would spend a season developing their skill before moving up to the big team.

Kerry was an excellent defensive catcher with a better-than-average bat and good enough to earn tryouts with the New York Yankees and St. Louis Cardinals. He became a full-fledged member of the Majors in 1956 and played with the team well into the 1960s, winning several Sr. I-C titles along the way.  In fact during his time the London team would go through three names -- Majors, Diamonds and Pontiacs. (Strange that he had a habit of being absent for a number of the team's official photos.) The thing I remember most about him was that he was the first catcher I ever saw wear a peakless helmet under his mask when behind the plate.  Always kind of an innovator.

Kerry, circa 1960

But that is only half of the Kerry Leitch story.

Growing up in Woodstock, he also wanted to play hockey and this desire led to lessons in figure skating to improve his skating ability. At the age of 10 his parents enrolled him in the Woodstock Figure Skating Club so he could learn to skate properly for hockey. As a youngster he had always wanted to be a professional baseball player. He idolized Major League players like Yogi Berra, Mike Hegan, Mickey Mantle, Bob Feller, and in hockey, he looked up to Teeder Kennedy, Max Bentley, Gordie Howe and Turk Broda.

“I found I really enjoyed figure skating and consequently played hockey and figure skated throughout my youth,” he once explained.

At the age of 17 he began coaching part-time to help pay for college. He wanted to be an aeronautical engineer, and attended the University of Detroit in pursuit of that dream. But it was expensive and proved too costly for him to continue, so he returned to semi-pro baseball and coaching figure skating since he enjoyed working with young people.

He couldn’t have known then that his decision to enter the coaching ranks while still playing baseball would transform the world of Canadian figure skating for decades to come.

Many of his skaters would go on to compete at the World Championships and Olympic Games, and he became one of the most highly touted figure skating coaches on the planet and virtually a household name in the sport.

Based in Cambridge at the Preston Figure Skating Club, his first students of note would be pairs skaters Paul Mills and Josie France-Jamieson. Other Preston Figure Skating Club athletes to win  awards in subsequent years included Lloyd Eisler and Katherine Matousek – they were two-time winners, in 1984 and 1985 – Cindy Landry and Lyndon Johnston (1989), and Doug Ladret and Christine “Tuffy” Hough (1992).

Kerry was the consummate coach. His job didn’t stop with the end of the workday. Typically, he would work 12-15 hour days, though often it was -even more than that. An extremely driven and motivated person, he always had a passion for his work, something that separated him from many others. His challenge? To develop world-class athletes.

Along the way he has been an innovator, pioneering the concept of Team Coaching, where he would surround himself with talented coaches. Together they built nothing less than a skating empire in what was then the small town of Preston. For two decades, from 1975 to 1995, no skating club in Canada produced as many Canadian champions as the Preston Figure Skating Club.

The club’s success bred more success, with skaters coming from far and wide to study their sport under an acknowledged master.

By the mid-70’s, the now retired baseball catcher had carved out a niche as a world-class skating coach. He knew that coaches play a far larger role in the development of a young athlete than most people realize. “I always believed it was very important to work diligently to develop each athlete’s skills in life,” he was once quoted as saying.

Which is why he emphasized things like sportsmanship, manners, and public speaking. “I always wanted the athlete to leave the sport of figure skating as a well-rounded and good person. The medals and championships won on their path to success as a person were just a bonus.”

“The sport is a beautiful sport and the only tarnish is the bureaucratic political influence of the officials who have sacrificed their once good intentions for self-gain.” This political dishonesty in some quarters somewhat spoiled the latter years of his coaching career, “but the memories of the wonderful athletes I have been fortunate enough to train, will always be with me,” he emphasized.

And he pointed to the Kurt Brownings, the Scott Hamiltons, and the Barbara Ann Scotts as representing the “true meaning of the sport.”

Kerry, today

As a former Figure Skating Coaches of Canada President and board member of the Canadian Figure Skating Association (now Skate Canada), Leitch helped to push the sport forward through his roles as a coach and sport administrator. He authored figure skating coach certification courses in both Canada and the USA, and was a featured presenter at many Canadian, US and ISU seminars for coaches, skaters and judges.

Actually, his list of credits would run on for a couple of pages. He was chief referee at the Goodwill games in Lake Placid in February, 2000, and was a multiple winner of the Longines-Wittnauer Coaching Excellence Award presented by the Coaching Association of Canada. He is a also a Cambridge Sports Hall of Fame inductee and a member of the Skate Canada Hall of Fame...Not bad for an old baseball catcher!

Kerry's coaching career eventually took him to Florida in the 1990s where he eventually retired in Bradenton with his wife Kathy.  The Leitchs of course are grandparents, a number of times over.

I'm kind of glad that I knew Kerry Leitch when...

HERE'S TO ALL AWAY FROM HOME MOMS, EVERYWHERE!

"Personally, I am going to miss these boys. My boys. I’ll miss seeing them on the couch chilling with our kids or having a Nerf gun battle. I’ll miss watching them play ridiculous games like trying to throw chocolate-covered almonds into each other’s mouths at the same time. I’ll miss hearing Cavin sing every song off the radio and I’ll miss watching Kolten shaking his head while Cavin sings. I’ll miss chatting with them after their games while we make a plate of nachos. I know they’ll miss my famous smoothies in the morning. Most of all, I’ll miss watching these fantastic hockey players hit the ice to play a sport they love. I’m so glad we chose to billet and I feel fortunate to have played a role in Kolten and Cavin’s lives. They are and always will be part of my family by choice."  -- Recently spoken by a hockey "billet Mom".

I posted an item on my Facebook timeline about a wonderful woman from Humboldt, Saskatchewan, who was the "billet mom" for three of the Humboldt Broncos junior hockey players who died in a horrendous bus crash last weekend.  "Goodbye my sweet sons!" she said in the caption accompanying a heart-wrenching photo showing the three smiling young hockey players sitting around her kitchen table.

Not only did that image tug at my heart strings, but it reminded me of my youth when five dear women opened their doors to me in a period between 1955 and 1960.  Two were baseball billet moms and three were more in keeping with traditional room-and-board land ladies.  Four of the five were definitely second mothers to me.

The fifth, I don't know...She was very regimental and had a strange way of showing her motherly love, chastising me for taking too much time in the bathroom, being late for breakfast and making too much noise chewing my food once I got there. Oddly enough, however, I was her favorite go-to-guy for household chores and driving her to weekend visits with relatives.  Maybe she felt she could pick on me because I was the youngest of her four boarders.  As I say, I don't know...

What I remember most about my billet moms and landladies in Florida, St. Thomas and Toronto is that they all took a personal interest in me, like they would do with their own sons. Their homes were my home.  At no time did I feel confined to my bedroom.  They were all excellent cooks, providing breakfasts and nourishing evening meals along with brown bags lunches.  Laundry was always part of the package arrangement, $15.00-$17.00 a week inclusive.

I was even included in special family functions, including holiday weekend activities. Hot chocolate and other snacks were often delivered unannounced by Rita Tunstead for me and a roommate in her East Toronto home.  I kept in touch with Rita and her husband Ernie for years.

Mrs. Gladys Reid of St. Thomas still holds a special place in my heart.  We sat in evenings sharing personal stories, frequently laughing and sometimes crying. She rejoiced in my achievements and consoled me when I did not do well in baseball or broke up with a particular girlfriend of the day. I can't remember what we had discussed one evening, but not too long after retiring she slipped into my bedroom and gave me a kiss on the cheek. (It should be explained that Mrs.Reid was at least 70 years of age. She had facial paralysis and I still feel that quick hen peck with misshapened lips sweeping past my cheek.)  She exited as swiftly as she had entered.  No words were spoken. A boy never forgets something like that.

The remarkable thing about Mrs. Reid was that she regularly accommodated three and four young men at a time in her small two-bedroom bungalow -- two beds were in her enclosed front porch.  For years she slept on a pull-out couch in her living room. I am convinced that she did not do it for the few dollars that would be left over from her grocery bill each week.  She did it because she wanted to.

I was a pall bearer at Mrs. Reid's funeral not too long after that.

Another land lady, Mrs. Velma Neil, was also so special that she was an invited guest at my wedding in 1960, sitting along with my mother and other family members.

I conclude by thanking all those remarkable women everywhere, then and now, who give impressionable young men a home away from home as they find their way in the world, sports or otherwise.  God bless their souls!

AS WE MOURN LET US WALK BRIEFLY IN A TRUCK DRIVER'S SHOES

The following simple but heartfelt Facebook letter was written by Deanna Leigh.  It needs to be considered by all of us in the wake of the Humboldt (Sask.) Broncos hockey team disaster.

Dear Saskatchewan Truck Driver,

As we all sit back and contemplate everything that has occurred since the collision and start to process the massive emotional impact of the death of 15 people, I want you to know you are in our minds too. Please know that some of us are thinking of you as well.

Although the exact cause of the collision and the events leading up to it remain unknown to us, we do know that you didn’t set out to do harm as you turned the ignition that fateful day.

You survived. You need help to overcome this tragic incident that is taking a significant toll on you and your family as well. I sincerely hope you will be able to heal and I know that other Canadians wish the same.

From the heart,
A fellow Canadian.

BE CAREFUL OF WHAT YOU SHARE AND CLICK ON

In our Internet age, there is a plethora of information available at the click of a button. So much so, that it’s hard to know what to believe anymore and leading me to ask for the umpteenth time "Is truth under assault?"  I am continually disturbed by the countless websites and politically-biased blogs that  have been masquerading as legitimate news outlets and publishing outlandish articles that grab people’s attention. 

Writers create stories full of embellishment and false claims from “unnamed sources”, slap on sensationalist titles, and then share them with the world. And it works! Curious readers can’t help but click on these catchy headlines. Granted, some of the misinformation floating around on the Internet is relatively harmless. However, given the contentious times we live in, fake news stories run the risk of further dividing us.  Consider too, that I am not even touching on the hate and   bigotry that is frequently spewed on social media (a subject unto itself).  I am equally bothered by the malicious, mean and hurtful personal attacks levelled against individuals -- public figures or otherwise -- with gay abandon and often without deserved provocation.  But that too is another story.

Historical Context

It is worth noting that fake news is not a modern creation. In fact, news publications have been writing bombastic stories and stretching the truth for years. Known as “yellow journalism”, it became a popular strategy for selling newspapers around the turn of the century. Even today, yellow journalism continues in the form of tabloids and gossip magazines. 

So, what’s the big deal? Fake news has been around forever. Why are people worried about it now? Partly, it’s the times we live in. The newspaper industry is in the midst of a decline, and more people than ever before are relying on the Internet to keep them up-to-date. Only a minority choose to read online versions of the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Toronto Star or Globe & Mail.  In fact, studies show that roughly 62 percent of adults are getting their news from Facebook. How unfortunate!

Fake news articles are thriving in the Facebook environment, where users scroll quickly through their feeds looking for interesting stuff. People often share links based on the headline alone – without bothering to look at the authenticity of the source. This allows phony articles to spread like wildfire as they get shared over and over again.

* It should be underlined here that along with a new computer, I have installed a new security system that blocks potential malware when I am foolish enough to click on what looks to be an interesting graphic, video, news item, clever saying or expression.  Almost unbelievably, 80 percent of friends' Facebook posts that I have clicked on in the past week have been rejected for security reasons.

So, dear friends, when you think that you are sharing useful or inspiring tidbits from unknown sources there is a very good chance that you are innocently picking up viruses and passing them along to equally innocent friends and in so doing lending yourselves to the scammers and phishers of the world who are ruining social media in general...and for you and I in particular.

Some fake news outlets even use legitimate-sounding names to further confuse people. For example, an article posted by “The Denver Guardian” was shared over half a million times on Facebook. As it turns out, “The Denver Guardian” doesn’t exist. A curious news reporter decided to visit the listed address, and all they found was a tree sitting in an empty parking lot.

Moving Forward

There’s no getting around it: a lot of nasty rhetoric has been thrown around over the past year and there is a sense that many of our brothers and sisters are feeling increasingly divided. However, the last thing we need moving forward is more finger pointing and name calling. There are many problems in the world, but we don’t stand a chance of solving them unless we work together.

All the hubbub surrounding fake news also serves as an important reminder about staying true to one’s values and beliefs. One of the core tenets is “to do that which is right”. This means upholding a standard of truth and honesty at all times. Especially in these politically polarized times, it’s important to engage honestly with one another – even if we disagree. Starting a dialogue and listening to opposing ideas is the first step toward developing a mutual understanding.

Sure, there may be people out there seeking to make a buck by spreading lies and misinformation – but that does not mean we have to stand for it. As individuals, we are obligated to resist these petty efforts to create divisions in our society. We cannot assume everything we read on the Internet is true, nor should we allow ourselves to pass judgment without getting both sides of the story.

Do your due-diligence research before jumping to conclusions on any issue or cause.  Truth still matters...and eventually wins out in the end.

AMAZING GRACE HOW GREAT THOU ART...

The word "Grace" has special meaning for me. First and foremost, it was my mother's name.

Other meanings of grace:

---the ballerina moved with grace across the stage; her form and fluid motion were a delight to behold.

---the family always said grace before their meal, thanking God for the food they were about to receive.

In Christian orthodoxy, however, grace takes on special meaning. A simple acronym has been memorized by many student ministers: God’s Redemption At Christ’s Expense.

On Good Friday, the church paused to recognize with humble gratitude its belief that when Jesus died, he carried our sins to the cross. By paying the price for our wrongdoing, He enabled us to receive God’s forgiveness---unearned and unmerited by us, simply a gift freely bestowed.

If grace is an unmerited gift from God (or from the universe, our lucky stars or blind fate) then it can also be as well found outside church walls and beyond traditional theology. Nadia Bolz-Weber described that concept this way: "God’s grace is not defined as God’s being forgiving to us even though we sin. Grace is a source of wholeness which makes up for my failings." 

We can cling to that source of wholeness to help us practice self-acceptance despite our many shortcomings. Following some scary, near-miss in heavy highway traffic, a driver might be heard muttering with relief: “But for the grace of God, I could have been killed.” We gratefully accept such Divine intervention, knowing that our driving “failings” could have produced fatal results. (A mystery then arises: why did another driver killed in a wreck not receive that same grace?)

Grace is evident when many of us recognize that the blessing of being born in Canada had nothing to do with our efforts or earned merit but was a freely-bestowed gift of the universe. Similarly, "as I stopped to gaze in awe at the sparkling purity of those mini-icebergs decorating our hushed Huron lakeside this past week, I experienced a sacred moment of grace, also freely given to anyone else taking the time to receive it," wrote oft-quoted Bob Johnston in the Saugeen Times on Saturday.

In relationships, we might be fortunate enough to receive forgiveness from someone whom we have wronged. Despite our many imperfections, we may also be the unmerited beneficiary of unconditional love from another human, a gift we could never be perfect enough to earn on merit. That too is grace.

On March 23rd, a gunman in the French town of Trebes took hostages amid his deadly rampage. A police officer, Lt. Col. Arnaud Beltrame, age 44, volunteered to take the place of a female hostage in exchange for her freedom. She was freed; he was murdered. All those involved in that terrorist attack witnessed an unforgettable act of supreme grace.

It may then be said that courage and grace often go hand-in-hand.