THE ORIGIN OF THE BEANTOWN RED SOX:

Way back yonder on March 30 of last year, the Boston Red Sox earned their first win of the 2018 Major League Baseball season, as David Price pitched them to victory over the Tampa Bay Rays. The Sox would go on to remarkably win their 119th game of the 2018 season, with Lefty Price again pitching them to victory in Game 5 of the World Series against the LA Dodgers. That triumph secured the belt and the title for the Red Sox, and also cemented them as arguably one of the greatest teams  in history.

Any day now Major League baseball teams will be reporting to spring training sessions in the sunny south lands. The lions share of my baseball friends are either Toronto Blue Jays fans or lifetime supporters of the Detroit Tigers.  For unknown reasons there are several, however, who are ardent Boston Red Sox fans and it is for them that I post the following story on "The Origin of The Red Sox." It will serve as a primer of sorts for the upcoming baseball season.

Ever wonder how, and when, the Red Sox got their name?

The name originally belonged to the first professional baseball team, the Cincinnati Red Stockings, a charter member of the first league, the National Association of Baseball Players.

Due to slumping attendance in Cincinnati, the team folded and then re-formed in Boston in 1871, electing to keep their nickname. The National League was then formed in 1876 and the Boston Red Stockings became a charter member.

At the time, nicknames were not as important as they are today and teams went by many different names. Over the years, the Red Stockings also came to be known as the "Red Caps", the "Beaneaters", the "Doves" and the "Pilgrims". In 1912, this Boston team changed its official nickname to the "Braves." The team eventually moved to Milwaukee in 1953, before relocating to Atlanta in 1966.

The present day Boston Red Sox began their inaugural season in 1901.

That year, Ban Johnson formed the American League to compete with the National League and the new Boston club was formed.

Until the 1908 season, the team wore dark blue stockings and did not have an official nickname. They were simply known as "the Bostons" or "the Boston Baseball club." Since Boston was then a two-team city, some newspaper writers referred to them as the Boston "Americans", as in "American Leaguers". During 1901-1907, their home and road jerseys simply read "Boston", except for 1902 when they sported the large letters "B" and "A", denoting "Boston" and "American."

In 1903, the team, then known as the Boston Americans, defeated the Pittsburgh Pirates to win the first World Series.

A number of sources claim that the team had a variety of nicknames in those early years, including the Boston "Pilgrims", the "Puritans", the "Plymouth Rocks" and the "Somersets" (for their owner, Charles Somers). Despite the claims, the present day organization doesn't recognize all of these names.

However, the name "Americans" is well documented. A Washington Post writer is said to have coined the name "Pilgrims" in 1906 as an antidote to the rather common "Americans." By 1907, this name was occasionally used in Boston newspapers. However, Boston's National League team was also known as the Pilgrims from 1909-1911.

The name Red Socks was chosen by new owner John I. Taylor after the 1907 season.

On December 18, 1907, Taylor announced that, beginning with the 1908 season, the team would start wearing white uniforms with bright red stockings for home games and, as a result, would be officially known as the Red Socks, the nickname that has identified them ever since.

Because large news type prevented such headlines as "Stockings Win!" from fitting on a page, the nickname "Sox" was adopted by the Boston newspapers, who wanted a more headline-friendly form of "Stockings." 

...And the rest is very colorful history from the game's oldest and most unique baseball stadium -- Fenway Park in Boston with its monster wall in left field.

REV. RANDY BENSON DOESN'T JUST FIDDLE AROUND, HE PiCKS HIS WAY INTO THE HEARTS OF THOSE WHO HEAR HIM PLAY, SING AND PREACH

Fiddle-playing Rev. Randy Benson at an impromptu open-air concert.

Those who follow my Wrights Lane offerings know that I have a penchant for gifted individuals who make contributions to society, all the while generally falling under the radar of public recognition. In this post I introduce a very unassuming 53-year-old young man who is dedicating his life to preaching The Word of God, his family, old time banjo and fiddle music -- and karate. 

Presently pastoring in the Central Grey-Bruce Presbyterian Cooperative Ministry consisting of the congregations in Dornoch, Chatsworth, Southampton and Chesley, you would expect Randy Benson to be a high-energy clerical ball of fire in the demanding ministerial world of small community preachers.  He is anything but -- in fact he is a laid back, steady as she goes, what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy who tends not to openly impose his God-given talents.

Perhaps Rev. Randy's demeanor is directly related to his passions in life, but more about that later. Let's first take a look at where he came from and how he got here. 

A native of *Waynesboro, Virgina, the youngest of two brothers, he earned a Doctor of Ministry degree from the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary in the area of Congregational Redevelopment and Trinitarian Theology. He also has a Master of Theology from Union Presbyterian Seminary in New Testament and Pauline Studies and a Master of Divinity from Union Presbyterian Seminary. As if that wasn't enough, he also obtained a Bachelor of Science degree from Eastern Mennonite University in Biblical Studies and Theology, Christian Ministries, and Religion and Philosophy.

A note about Randy's home stromping grounds: *Waynesboro is a very scenic city of about 22,000 people located in the Shenandoah Valley, near many important historical markers of the Civil War and Shenandoah National Park. A portion of Interstate 64 falls within the city limits of Waynesboro, and the Blue Ridge Parkway, Skyline Drive, and the Appalachian Trail are less than 5 miles (8.0 km) away. Norfolk Southern Railway trackage runs through the east side of the city. The South River, a tributary of the Shenandoah River, also flows through the city.

Randy was ordained July of 1997 in the Presbyterian Church (USA) and served the Marlinton Presbyterian Church in Marlinton, West Virginia for five years before answering a call to come north to Canada where he served as minister of Word and Sacrament at Claude Presbyterian Church on Highway 10 in Caledon, ON. from March, 2003 to October 2012.

Rev. Randy proudly wears karate
competition-inflicted black eye.

He, of course, is now firmly entrenched in Grey-Bruce community life and has (almost) lost his deep down south accent. He is married to Dana, a Streetsville, ON. girl and an ordained minister serving in a pulpit-supply capacity in the Owen Sound area.  The Bensons have two school-aged children, William and Alice.

One thing that Randy did not leave behind when coming to Canada was his natural love of Appalachian old time banjo and fiddle music. He plays both banjo and fiddle and is an excellent singer making regular appearances at area nursing homes, in addition to the odd public concert.

Known affectionately as “old time music” to the musicians who play it, traditional Appalachian fiddle, banjo, and string band music hearkens back to an older time, when fiddlers played for community dances and rural life prevailed. Though it has gone through a series of revivals nationally, it never disappeared from the Appalachian mountains.

The melodic roots of old time music are found in Scots-Irish fiddle music, while its rhythms are shaped by shuffle bowing and the banjo, both of African-American ancestry. As it evolved, old time music picked up material from other music styles such as blues, ragtime, and gospel.

In the heyday of commercially recorded old time music (mid 1920s through the early 1930s), many fine musicians from the Appalacia mountains were recorded...And Randy could well have been one of them in the modern era, had he not decided to go in another direction.

*From his Facebook timeline here is a sample of Randy's catchy banjo playing and West Virginian singing style from about 10 years ago as he entertained tiny son William who "enjoyed dancing, and doing somersaults, to banjo music." To view mom Dana's homemade video from the Benson's living room, just click 
https://www.facebook.com/revrbenson/videos/99549018214/

Randy undertook a major do-it-yourself music project in 2014 when he produced and performed a special selection of old time music tunes in a "busker's CD" made to raise money for a PAN trip that St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church in Owen Sound, took in July 2014 to conduct medical clinics in rural Nicaragua.

As recent as last week he asked his congregation: "Do you ever take a moment and consider the human body and how it works and its relationship to the mind and the self and to others? God really has done something wonderful." He continued to expand on the subject with a surprise reference to playing the banjo.

"Consider what all goes into playing a banjo? One has to understand music. It helps if one can to hear; though it is amazing that Beethoven composed all of his beautiful music when he was all but stone deaf. To play the banjo it is necessary to have hands and fingers and a neural network with the brain to form chords, finger notes, and pound out rhythm. If a right-handed banjoist lost her right hand, she could still banjo but would be limited to strumming like a riverboat banjoist. Yet, if a special prosthetic were made to hold a pick, she could to pick individual notes and play Irish fiddle tunes. 

"On the other hand (pun intended), for a right-handed banjoist the left hand is probably the weakest, uncoordinated part of the body. Yet when it comes to playing music, the skill developed in the left hand could not and cannot be done with any other part of the body. A banjoist could loose the thumb and even a finger or two on the left hand and still manage to play music. But if she lost her left hand, this otherwise clumsy and awkward and weak part of the body, she could not play banjo anymore and that would be devastating to who she is as a person that would in turn have profound effect on her relationships. There would also be those who would miss her playing."

He emphasized his point by quoting the Apostle Paul who said in Corinthians that God has made, established the human body just as he chose to and he made it so that it consists of many parts and those parts need each other. "A hand cannot be a hand without a brain and what good is a brain with no hands? If a part of the body is lost no matter how insignificant it might be, like a toe, the impact on the rest of the body and the human person and the community of that person is…profound," he added.

In other words, we need all parts of a body to be working together (collectively or individually) in order to be effective contributors to our world, and the world at large. Only a banjo playing man of the cloth could express it in those terms.

Randy delivers sermons in an almost casual, down-to-earth manner, often introducing common everyday situations and a hint of humor to help congregations equate to his overall message. It is an approach to ministry from the pulpit that has endeared him to many hearts.

Randy (left) and wife Dana (centre), members of an Owen Sound senior team 

placing second in a recent national karate tournament.

THE KARATE KIDS: As another change of pace from the increasing demands of church life and ministering to multiple congregations, the entire Benson family is involved in various levels of karate as members of the Owen Sound Shito-Ryu Itosa-Karate Association. Randy, who recently lost 70 pounds through a training regimen and is now a slim and trim 180-pound fighting machine, was a member of a senior team, including wife Dana, that claimed second place in a national tournament last fall.

Members of the Owen Sound club train twice weekly for balance and strength, graceful athleticism, respect of others and of self, and for control and precision. They also participate in belt rankings and international tournaments twice a year, which are often challenging and always encouraging. All in all, a perfect activity to balance any young family's life, even when both parents are church ministers.

At a breakfast of church men who gather monthly at a Southampton restaurant I recently asked Randy how it was possible to work all of his interests and church commitments into one busy family schedule. He only smiled and gave no audible answer. I could have expected as much.

WHAT IS YOUR HEART'S DESIRE FRIEND?...THINK ABOUT IT!

Ever since I began reviewing books on a freelance basis I have put together a short list of people who I would like to meet in person, knowing full well that I never will. Author and neuropsychologist Dr. Michelle Bengtson is one of those special individuals. In this post I share a moving story she tells about suppressing and finally recognizing her "heart's desire" (a subject very much on my mind in recent days)...one that at first she didn't even know she had.

It seems that a friend had invited Dr. Michelle to a “Bucket List” party, where she encouraged the participants to have a no-limits chance to dream about their deepest heart’s desires. Encouraged to write down 10 things that would make this the best year ever if they came true, some jotted down travels, still others allowed their hopes for creative pursuits to flourish, and others desired a return to a more simplified life.

Dr. Michelle Bengtson

Michelle said her list initially included items like enjoying the company of her children without the nag of work in in her ear, and the opportunity for more speaking engagements to share help and hope from personal and professional experience.

The hostess then selectively called on those gathered one by one, to share their most heart-felt item from their list. Michelle was not immediately asked to share, and she was content with that -- being surrounded by beautifully put-together women who she just met, she was not too sure how her list might be received.

She explains how as one gal shared of her desire to remodel her condominium, to create a beautiful space around her, she felt a prompting. “What you want is beautiful too – Go ahead and write it” was what she sensed welling up in her. Yet before she could even process it, her thoughts retorted, “They will all think you are so shallow.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the desire of your heart except that you’ve given up on it” was what I “heard” as I stared at my paper," is how she put it.

She had given up on it…so much so that it didn’t even register in her mind as a consideration for her list. She said that it was as if she began to believe "if God wanted my desires fulfilled, surely He would have provided it already." But was that the truth or another sneaky lie of the enemy? It sounded vaguely familiar: “Surely God did not tell you to not eat of the fruit…”

A tear threatened to wreak havoc on her makeup as it escaped and ran down her cheek. Quick to wipe it away so no one would notice, she stared at the list with her heart beginning to beat faster. There would be no forgetting it now, as the pain of unfulfilled desires lodged a knot in her throat.

"Writing it down allowed me to give that longing the respect and acknowledgement it deserved, even if no one else ever knew," she recalled.

“Michelle, what’s #2 on your list?” her host friend asked with expectant eyes, as the single tear turned into a quiet cascade running down her cheeks.

Barely above a whisper, she made her heart’s desire known to the group of onlookers: “Beautiful Shoes.”

None of them understood, so it begged for explanation:

Clearing the lump in her throat, she let it all out. "Stricken with an undiagnosable illness when I was three left me with deformities of my leg and foot. While one leg and foot are completely normal and a woman’s size 6 shoe, the other foot looks like the feet of Asian women whose feet have been bound to stay small, and fits a small girl’s size 12-13. Left without any movement of my ankle or toes, I cannot wear beautiful high heels or fun flip-flops." 

"I’ve never found it fun to shoe-shop, and because of incredible difficulty finding shoes to fit both feet, we refer to it as shoe hunting. Over the years I luckily found several mismatched pairs to wear, but surgery in recent years changed the structure of that foot, and left me without (proper dress shoes)."

Having now just exposed not only her most heart-felt desire, but also her greatest flaw and biggest insecurity, she glanced through her tears at this group of women listening to her. They didn’t laugh or stare or gawk. They instead prayed and confirmed they wanted "beautiful shoes" for her too.

Michelle's heart quickened again as one shared with her a verse the Lord laid on her heart at that moment:

“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news,
who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, ‘Your God reigns'!” ~~ Isaiah 52:7 NIV

"The Lord had given me that same verse through the encouraging words of another friend right after my surgery when my heart felt broken and despairing. One day I will wear beautiful shoes!" Michelle confided.

As she listened to the others share from their innermost desires, a couple things were clear:
-- We all have insecurities and the enemy uses those insecurities to keep us focused on ourselves and to keep us from fully embracing God’s call on our lives.
-- At our deepest core, we all long to be loved and accepted.
-- When we stop dreaming, we stop hoping.

 A perfect ending to a perfectly inspiring story from the beautiful and desiring heart of Michelle Bengtson.  Makes you want to hug her...but I never will.

IS IT NICE TO BE CANADIAN, OR IS IT CANADIAN TO BE NICE?

Researchers have yet to analyze Canadian niceness empirically, but studies have found that Canadians, perhaps in an effort not to offend, use an overabundance of “hedge words”, such as “could be” and “not bad”. Then there is the most coveted of Canadian words: “sorry”. Canadians will apologize for just about anything just to be nice, even when there is nothing to apologize for.

A few hours ago I had a social media exchange with an old friend who seemed to have a fixation on Canadian niceness in the context of environmental matters pertaining to fossil fuels and, I suspect, unstated immigration practises too.

I'm not so sure that "nice" is an apt term to associate with Canadians as a whole. It might be to our detriment with negative connotations as we move further into the 21st century.

Certainly, it is no secret that the past decade has seen a strong resurgence of the far right across Europe and North America. To say that extremists have become emboldened would be an understatement; in fact, they are empowered and are literally being elected into power.

An online news source, The Guardian, points out that the international view of Canada tends to be that we are mostly untouched by this frightening trend. This is also how we see ourselves as a quasi-socialist paradise, with socialized medicine, anti-hate legislation, sensible gun laws and humanistic immigration regulations. But if the recent past has proven anything, it’s that beneath our progressive veneer is an insidious undercurrent of violence. Sadly, our news broadcasts and newspaper reports tend to paint a not-so-nice picture on a daily basis. I'm still shuddering over the news of violence in our Canadian nursing homes, to cite just the latest in a rash of current horror stories.

In April of last year, 25-year-old Alek Minassian deliberately drove a van onto a crowded Toronto sidewalk, killing 10 pedestrians, it is alleged. Shortly before the attack, Minassian apparently made a Facebook post declaring that the “incel rebellion” had begun. Immediately after the attack – while details about the alleged perpetrator were as yet unknown and there were still bodies on the ground – prominent white nationalist Faith Goldy was on the scene declaring it to be a “terrorist attack” by a “Middle Eastern” man.

Goldy is formerly of Rebel Media, a far right Canadian outlet with a special devotion to Islamophobia. Goldy and Rebel Media are representative of a growing far right scene in Canada, one that includes violently xenophobic groups such as La Meute and misogynistic MRA organizations such as Men’s Rights Edmonton and CAFE.

Just a few weeks after the Toronto van attack, the New York Times ran a profile on Canadian academic-cum-pop-philosopher Jordan Peterson. Peterson’s star has been on the rise ever since he opposed a bill meant to protect the rights of trans people. Peterson, in a gross misrepresentation of the bill which has since passed into law, said it was an attack on free speech because it would force him to use people’s preferred pronouns.

He was asked by the New York Times to comment on the van attack; his response was to declare that the suspect, Minassian, was “angry at God because women were rejecting him.” The “cure” for this, according to Peterson, is “enforced monogamy” – his further comments appeared to suggest he agrees with Ross Douthat that the “redistribution of sex” is the only way to placate violent, entitled young men.

At first glance, it might seem surprising that Peterson and Goldy come from a country that prides itself on diversity, tolerance and gee-golly-gosh niceness. But the truth is that the unrest we’re currently experiencing is as Canadian as maple syrup. See what I mean!

White Canadians have long grappled with the question of who, exactly, we are. At the time of the country’s confederation, in 1867, we viewed ourselves as a child of Mother Britain, a colonial outpost that aimed to be more British than the British. This still applies, to some extent – Canada is a member of the Commonwealth, the government uses the British parliamentary system and the Queen is still on the dollar notes. These days, though, we’re more used to being represented, both at home and abroad, as America’s foil, a photographic negative rather than an image in its own right.

On some level, this makes sense. America is a world superpower with an out sized reputation, and Canada has a bad case of little siblingitis. On another, more realistic level, it’s as if France could only ever describe its culture in terms of how very utterly not-Britain it is. Even our constitution seems like a polite middle finger to the US Declaration of Independence: where they champion life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness; we speak of peace, order and good 
government. If America is messy and loud, we are determined to be quiet and nice. And yet all too often our niceness isn’t much more than surface-deep.

In many ways, Canada is indeed a progressive country, and our legislation – like the trans rights bill that Peterson so despised – arguably shows a continued commitment to creating an equitable society. At the same time, the idea that we’re already a tolerant, liberal country is often a stumbling block for Canadians. We do not like the suggestion that we still have work to do – although you don’t have to look much further than our government’s treatment of indigenous people to understand that we have a long way to go before the reality of Canada catches up with our perception of it. 

Because most Canadians already have a fixed idea of how good our country is, we tend to be sensitive to even the mildest criticism. If someone points out that we’ve said or done something bigoted, the reflexive response is “but I couldn’t possibly have, because I’m not a bigot; I’m not wrong, you’re wrong.” I have frequently alluded to this in writing about racism and human rights issues very close to home.

This cognitive dissonance between who we think we are and who we actually are is fertile ground for people such as Peterson, who provide quick answers in lieu of productive soul-searching. According to him, the real problem is “identity politics”, which are wielded by “social justice warriors” who want to destroy free speech.

The result of all this is the radicalization of a population of young, white, male Canadians. Some of these men are genuinely alarmed by the rise of so-called “liberal values”, but many of them will tell you that they believe in tolerance and equity; they’ll tell you that, in fact, these values are so abundant in our country that the tide has turned and their rights that are now being threatened. Some of these men will indulge in violent fantasies about how to restore the rights they imagine they’ve lost; sometimes, more often than we’d like to admit, that violence will spill over from fantasy to reality. And yet almost every single one of them will insist that they are, at their core, nice guys.

It is possible that Canada could someday become the diverse utopia we imagine it to be, but before that happens we will need to take a long, hard look at where we are now. If we don’t like what we see, we have no one to blame but ourselves.

Meanwhile, let's not be so quick to toss the word "nice" into conversations about Canadian action on the political or moral fronts, well-intended or sarcastically. In the face of adversity, kindness requires strength and courage. Not vapid niceness.

Sorry, but that's only my view...Have a nice day everyone!

ON THINKING ABOUT THE MEANING OF (MY) LIFE...

As a writer and commentator on a wide variety of subjects, always in search of answers, I have struggled recently with the meaning of life and often find myself asking in knawing surrender "does anyone really know..." It has just occurred to me that there might be value in an alternative, humanistic approach which poses the question, "What is the meaning of my life."

In the Great Courses lecture series "The Meaning of Life: Perspectives from the Great Intellectual Traditions," Professor Jay L. Garfield coincidentally acknowledges the stifling enormity of the open-ended question “What is the meaning of life?” and pares it down to a more humanly manageable query. He too asks:

"As seen through the lens of the culture and tradition that I personally identify with, how can I, as an individual, find the meaning of my life?"

If I’m a Hindu, or a Buddhist, or a Christian, or a Stoic, or a Modern or Postmodern philosopher, or a Wiccan, or an atheist (or anything in between), how can I be sure that I’m not wasting my time on earth? What’s the goal of life? How do I best pursue that goal? How do I know when I’ve achieved it?

As you might have guessed, there is no “one right answer for everybody.” But with just a little thought and effort, it may not be hard to discover the one right answer for you.

Professor Garfield explores four overarching questions that all religions and philosophical systems ask in their pursuit of life’s meaning. Different traditions may posit different answers, but they all ask the same questions. In our 21st Century quest for the meaning of our individual lives, with many of us operating outside any one spiritual or philosophical tradition, knowing the right questions to ask can make all the difference.

Question #1: CONTEXT

One of the primary goals of all religions and philosophies is to help us understand our individual roles within, and proper relationship to, that part of reality that is greater than ourselves.

For philosophers like Aristotle and Confucius, the greater reality that matters most is the social order, the Polis. We find our most significant life meaning in cultivating right relationships with each other, and playing our proper role within the societies we form.

For religions like Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Hinduism and even Stoicism, which is rooted in Greek and Roman paganism, the greater reality is God or gods, from whom flow a rational order we have a place within and can understand and relate to.

Non-theistic traditions like Buddhism, much European philosophy, and, of course, science, ask individuals to locate themselves within a physical universe of causal connections. In Buddhism, for example, everything existing — including us — is seen to be the effect of causes that came before, and to simultaneously be a cause of things to come. Nothing arises independently. Our right relationship to the greater reality is mostly one of understanding how it works and accepting our ephemeral role within it. Science, and philosophies rooted in the scientific worldview, largely agree.

There are traditions that blend the contexts above, such as Taoism, which sees us embedded in the natural world, which is itself embedded in and permeated by the Tao — which is not understood to be any kind of personal god, like we find in the Abrahamic faiths. Pantheism, Wicca and many Native American traditions embrace our physical role in the natural world, while also experiencing Nature to be spiritually alive and sacred.

The initial question we must ask and answer in our quest for the meaning of our individual lives is this:

What is greater than ourselves? In what context are our individual lives unfolding?

Do we even understand ourselves to exist within a larger context? Do we have any real sense that we take part in larger realities like the society we live in, the natural world, or a supernatural order? Or do we just live out of our own heads, our own needs and desires of the moment, our own egocentric daily experience? For our individual lives to have meaning beyond instinctive seeking of pleasure and avoidance of pain, the religious and philosophical traditions of the world agree that it’s necessary to locate ourselves within a larger context than personal ego.

I think that this is really the most important of the four questions, so don’t skip it. To continue this process, and find the meaning of life, we have to start by defining the grand context in which our individual lives unfold. There’s a world outside our heads and beyond the mirror. What’s that world like, and what’s our relationship to it?

Then we must ask, what does the larger context we’ve defined tell us about how we should live? About what matters, what adds (or reveals) meaning, and what sorts of thoughts, feelings, actions, disciplines, etc. are proper to a human being? Seen in that context, how do our individual lives measure up? Are there things we need to change? Personally, I'm almost afraid count.

Question #2: Time and Impermanence

We’re all going to die. There, I said it. Now what are we going to do about it?

If our answer is “refuse to think about it,” we may struggle to find meaning in life.

Even religions that posit an afterlife in heaven, the Summerland, via reincarnation, etc., unanimously urge us to look at the time we have in this current life on earth as finite and immensely valuable. Stoics like Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius contemplated the truth that the universe was here for billions of years before we existed, and will go on for billions more after we’re gone. Our lives are ephemeral in the extreme, and should therefore rightly be precious to us. Keeping the brevity of life in the front of our minds adds urgency and meaning to all we do.

Is this life all there is? If so, are we cherishing every irreplaceable moment? If we aren’t, what do we need to change in order to rightly value, and make the best use of, our limited time on earth?

Is there an afterlife? If so, can we just coast to it? Are there things we need to be doing and ways we should be living right now, in this life, to be ready for the transition of death, which could come at any moment? Will we reach the end having to explain why we spent six hours a day watching TV? Or treating other people badly? Or being selfish? Or refusing to help others? Are we investing our limited hours and days and years in the urgent pursuit of enlightenment? Or demonstrating compassion? Or practicing the Yogas of action, knowledge and devotion?

Also, consider that everybody else is just as impermanent as we are. Are we taking the people in our lives for granted? Are we putting off loving and appreciating others as if we (and they) had all the time in the world?

Do we treat non-human things like money, cars, houses, jobs, as if they had eternal significance? Are we making them more important than people? Than ourselves? Have we chained our lives to things that won’t last?

Question #3: The Human Ideal

In the larger context as we have chosen to define it, what does it mean to be human? What are we? What’s possible for us all by virtue of our human birth? We’re not trees or bugs or housecats. We’re human beings. How is that special? How should we live in order to actualize our highest human potential? How will we know when we’ve achieved it? What would it mean to not pursue or achieve the human ideal?

I’m thinking here of things like, in a religious context, sainthood, enlightenment, or better incarnations — or in a secular context, our greatest genius, our highest creative expression, our noblest love.

Question #4: Authenticity

I

In Leo Tolstoy’s novel The Death of Ivan Ilych, the main character endures a prolonged and painful illness that ends in his death. Along the way, he comes to understand the upright, successful, ordinary life he led when he was well very differently in light of his impending death. Professor Garfield explains:

He realizes that he has frittered his life away on the trivial, on the public sphere, instead of confronting the structure of his own existence. He questions whether life is that “senseless and horrible,” but of course, that’s the point: If we lead a life in which we pay little attention to the concrete reality of our existence and our mortality, a senseless and horrible life is what we’re left with. 

On the eve of his death, Ilych wonders whether his whole life might have been false; he asks, “But if that is so … and if I am leaving this life with the consciousness that I have lost all that was given to me and it is impossible to rectify it, what then?” Tolstoy’s point is that we may all be in exactly that position if we don’t move to lead more authentic, meaningful lives now.

Are we leading lives we have chosen for ourselves? That allow us to flower as individuals and leave our unique mark on the world? Or do our days just happen? Do we respond to events the way others expect of us and call it good? Do our lives awaken what’s special about us as individuals? Or do they anesthetize our authentic self?

The difference between Question #3: The Human Ideal and Question #4: Authenticity is that, with the Human Ideal, we’re asking what is possible for all human beings. With Authenticity, we’re asking what is uniquely possible for ourselves, as individuals.

The Right Questions in the Right Order



We live in the Postmodern era, and here’s what that means:

Postmodernism — A theory that involves a radical reappraisal of modern assumptions about culture, identity, history, or language… [often characterized] by ironic self-reference and absurdity (bits and pieces of the definition of “postmodern” found in the Merriam-Webster dictionary).

One big reason I think it has become so hard to find the meaning of our lives in North America (and everywhere, probably) is that our 21st Century postmodern consumer culture forbids us to ask three of the four essential questions above –which corrupts our ability to answer the fourth.

If we see life as absurd, we’ll view all contexts as traps. We’ll judge religion oppressive or irrelevant and kick it to the curb. We’ll see philosophy as dead. We’ll let society crash around us as we stare into screens in isolation, typing at each other across the Internet. We’ll follow pop culture and worship youth and celebrity, which rarely takes us anywhere near the serious consideration of old age, let alone death. We’ll scoff at the very concept that anything like “human ideals” might exist beyond physical beauty, fame, wealth, and power.

Pop-psychologists and personal development gurus (and Medium listicle writers) urge us to live authentically, and to always be growing toward our best and truest selves. But what can it even mean to be a “best and true self” without context, urgency, or an understanding of the intellectual, emotional, or spiritual heights possible for human beings?

We have to know the context in which our lives are unfolding before we can rightly assess the relationship between our personal life and death. Context also informs us what it means to be human, which allows the urgency of knowing we’re going to die to drive us to live authentically today.

That’s the formula. It doesn’t work in reverse, and it doesn’t work if we leave out steps.

Each of us then, can answer the question “What is the meaning of life?” But to do so, we need to step away from the ironic self-reference and assumed absurdity of postmodern consumer culture, and resolve to both ask and answer each of Professor Garfield’s four questions — fully, and in the right order.

I'm going to devote time in the coming days, weeks -- and months, if that's what it takes -- working on the four questions. I crave more than anything, meaning to existance for this quickly aging bag of bones.

I only pray that the answers do not come too late to apply them in any meaningful way. Meantime, I think that I'm starting to get the hang of it.

FROM WATERFORD TO OUTERSPACE; A LEGEND IS IN THE MAKING

The Hon. Paul T. Hellyer

I have always been intrigued by Paul T. Hellyer who served as Canada's Defense Minister from 1964 to 1967. Inspite of his prominence in the Liberal government of the day, his remarkable intellect and the fact that he is the author of seven books, it has been my impression that the now 96-year-old has never been given respect due him. He has not always been taken seriously and somehow I relate to that. Maybe the best word for him is "misunderstood".

Hellyer was born and raised on a farm near Waterford, Ontario, and that is where I first met him when serving as a still-wet-behind-the-ears news editor with the Simcoe Reformer newspaper in the nearby town of the same name. I recall fighting off feelings of inferiority and intimidation on the several occasions in 1966 and '67 that I sat down with him for chats (not interviews, in all honesty). On one visit to the Hellyer home I was thankful for the company of George Bramwell, a newspaper curmudgeon with a long history in Norfolk County. When the conversation slowed down, George would pick up the pace.

It was during this period that Hellyer was formulating his "Agenda: a Plan for Action" that would ultimately be published in 1971 by Prentice Hall. The Plan underscored the urgency to cut through the words, the cliches and the myths to solve economic problems facing Canada in that day and age. His major policy recommendation was that mandaory wage  and price controls were necessary to the regulation of the non-competitive part of the economy. He was not suggesting that government set individual wages or prices, but that it should enforce guidelines based on the average annual increase in physical output in real terms.

Nothing wrong with that!...His liberalism was dynamic and human.

By means of review, Hellyer sat in the House of Commons from 1949 to 1957 and was re-elected in a by-election in December 1958. From 1958 until 1963, when the Liberals gained power, he was instrumental in developing the party's defence policy and urged Lester Pearson  to accept nuclear weapons. After the election victory, Pearson appointed him minister of national defence, and under Hellyer's direction, the Canadian Armed Forces were unified. The controversy surrounding the unification likely did not help his political career and in 1967 Hellyer was moved to the Ministry of Transport.

In 1968 he ran unsuccessfully for the Liberal leadership. The victor, Pierre Trudeau, gave him the additional responsibility for housing policy. After the report of his Task Force on Housing and Urban Development did not win Cabinet approval in 1969, Hellyer resigned from the Cabinet and later from the Liberal Party. He tried to form a new political movement in 1971, Action Canada. When it faltered, he drifted towards the Conservative Party, winning re-election under that banner in 1972 before losing his seat in 1974. Hellyer then unsuccessfully ran for the leadership in 1976. 

He has not re-entered the House of Commons since, but has voiced political views through a syndicated column he wrote from 1974 to 1984 and through several books. In 1997 he created a new political party, the Canadian Action Party, and promoted economic reform, particularly in the area of monetary policy. In that year's general federal election he ran for the Canadian Action Party in the Ontario riding of Etobicoke-Lakeshore but lost to the incumbent Liberal.

As mentioned at the outset, I've always had empathy and admiration for Paul Hellyer. He was a genuinely nice man, perhaps too serious and intelligent and lacking sufficient charisma in the end to be accepted by an impressionable Canadian public.  He was, after all, almost 75 when he last ran for political office while carrying the banner of his newly-created federal party -- an unthinkable challenge for anyone of lesser fortitude.

AN ADVOCATE OF ALIEN VISITATION

Of particular recent interest to me as I considered writing this post, was the fact that Hellyer is not only a man who’s been a respected politician, holding office in the highest echelons of public governance -- he’s also a trained aeronautical engineer. It’s a grounded background which would come in handy for anyone interested in -- surprise -- unidentified flying craft. He’s also a military man -- having served in the Royal Canadian Artillery as a gunner during World War II. This is a man versed in hard sciences and a veteran soldier who’s been on the front lines of combat -- he’s trained and experienced to know what’s tangible and what’s a threat.

Hellyer’s first public connection to UFO’s came in 1967, when he flew by helicopter into the town of St. Paul, Alberta, to commemorate a UFO landing pad. Constructed as a kind of tourist attraction for the town’s centennial, the landing pad’s sign boasted this inscription:

"The area under the World's First UFO Landing Pad was designated international by the Town of St. Paul as a symbol of our faith that mankind will maintain the outer universe free from national wars and strife. That future travel in space will be safe for all intergalactic beings, all visitors from earth or otherwise are welcome to this territory and to the Town of St. Paul."

This sort of public spectacle in benefit of a town’s celebration, could be quickly dismissed as simply a government official lending support to his constituency. Indeed, it wouldn’t be until 2005 that Hellyer came out loud and proud as a UFO believer -- someone who, in no uncertain terms, believes our planet has been host to many alien visitors. Hellyer didn’t restrict his beliefs to merely visitation, he went so far as to accuse then American President George W. Bush of plotting an Intergalactic War. While giving a speech at the University of Toronto, Hellyer made this incredible statement:

"The United States military are preparing weapons which could be used against the aliens, and they could get us into an intergalactic war without us ever having any warning...The Bush Administration has finally agreed to let the military build a forward base on the moon, which will put them in a better position to keep track of the goings and comings of the visitors from space, and to shoot at them, if they so decide."

What’s perhaps most fascinating, though also arguably troubling I must confess, about Hellyer’s assertions, is his belief alien visitation isn’t a relatively new phenomenon. According to him, the Earth’s been visited by several alien races, and their trips to our little blue marble have been ongoing for many thousands of years.

Personally, I have been engrossed in Ancient Aliens an American television series that premiered on the History Channel not long ago. Produced by Prometheus Entertainment in a documentary style, the program presents hypotheses of ancient astronauts and proposes that historical texts, archeology, and legends contain evidence of past human-extraterrestrial contact. The show has been widely criticized by historians, cosmologists and other scientific circles for promoting pseudoscience and pseudo history, but it is indicative of the fact that Hellyer is not alone in his theories.

Now approaching the century mark, the invincable Hellyer says he still gets dozens of emails a week from people who have either had close encounters with aliens or who have even been abducted. It’s a safe bet to argue that anyone who hears him speak on the subject has to come away with a respect for the man and his reputation, which is probably why he’s getting so much correspondence on the UFO subject. However, as a man of science and clear thinking, he must also respect the demand for physical evidence to prove these claims. Both the scientific community and our government agencies would have to be more forthcoming if more witnesses could produce truly convincing photographs, videos or physical evidence to back up their astounding claims. Until then, what are we to make of it all?

Like Paul Hellyer, we'll have to keep watching the skies I guess.

THE DETERMINED LIFE OF CHARLES HENRY CROSSWELL: A CANADIAN SOLDIER FIGHTING FOR HIS BRITISH HOME LAND IN WW1

Bill Sreeter is a military historian who lives in Saugeen Shores. He submitted an item to the Saugeen Times recently that more than caught my attention. It was a story about an extremely small-in-stature immigrant from England who was determined to serve in the Canadian Army during WW1 in spite of his physical limitations and advanced age. It seems that all he wanted to do was to fight for his native Britain in a Canadian uniform. Here's the unusual story as written by Bill Streeter:

The story of Charles Henry Crosswell may be the most unique of any of the more than 1,200 Bruce County Volunteers that joined the 160th Bruce Battalion of the Canadian Expeditionary Force in WWI.

The 42 pages of his Military record from the Library and Archives in Ottawa tell a story of a citizen who took large steps to show loyalty to his birth country.

He came to Canada late in the 19th century, from Ealing, a suburb of London, England. Prior to moving to Port Elgin, he had lived in Ottawa where he was a member of the Governor General’s Foot Guards Militia Unit.

In December 1915, he went to Tara and enlisted in the 160th Bruce Battalion which, this causes one to question why he would not have enlisted in the Port Elgin Platoon where he was living and where he worked as a bricklayer. His attestation papers state that he was 5’ 3” with blue eyes, fair complexion and light brown hair. He was married to Beatrice Elizabeth and they had a 16-year-old daughter Maud. He gave his birth date as September 24, 1878 which would have him as 37 years of age.

In the summer of 1916, the 160th was preparing for departure for England. Prior to their departure the soldiers got their affairs in order and he had two military comrades witness his will. They were Trew James from Walkerton, and Albert Monkman from Tara. He declared that he had no personal life insurance and that his “worldly possessions” were to go to his wife Beatrice if he did not return.

Prior to departure for England, Crosswell was promoted to Corporal. The 160th departed from Halifax on October 17, 1916 aboard the S. S. Metagama. This ship was a 1915 addition to the Canadian Pacific fleet and ran regular service from Saint John, New Brunswick to Liverpool. The ship regularly carried Canadian troops in her Third-Class accommodation with paying customers on the upper decks.

On November 2, 1916, the Bruce Battalion arrived at the Bramshott Military Camp in Hampshire, England. Soon after, Charles was promoted to Acting Sergeant. On April 3, 1917 he did something quite out of the ordinary. He formally requested a ‘demotion’ to his original rank of Private. This was done, as indicated in his request, to give him a better chance of getting to the “front” as a replacement for the many soldiers who were casualties in the trenches.

Here, things took a negative turn...On July 10, 1917, Dr. J.L. Cook, in a Medical Board ruling declared Crosswell unfit for continuing active service and directed his Commander to return him to Canada. A review of his “Medical History Sheet” shows dates (Page 16 of 20) from August 1, 1916 ruling him as “fit’, then on Nov. 30, 1916 as being Approved Class “A”, then followed by the July 1917 findings of Dr. Cook, that were very inconsistent.

A note on the Medical History Sheet reads: “This sheet to be disposed of in accordance with instructions in the Regulations for Army Medical Service, on the man becoming non-effective; the date and cause being stated on the next page.” The next page is totally blank.

Months later, on November 17th, Charles embarked on his return to Canada from the port of Liverpool. Upon his arrival in Canada he was stationed in London, Ontario at the Western Ontario Supply Depot. On January 18, 1918 he was promoted to his earlier rank of Corporal and served there until his discharge on August 9, 1918.

The answer to the mystery of his return to Canada becomes much clearer when we review his discharge papers.

In London, Ontario on July 17, 1918 he was declared “Overage Category C 11”. His Discharge Certificate dated August 9, 1918 and very clearly states his age as 49 years. His birth date is stated as September 26, 1869. This is a full nine years earlier than the September 24, 1878 date he gave in Tara when he enlisted in December 1915.

The following statement is included. “He served in Canada and England and is now discharged from the service by reason of as medically unfit for further general service”. The maximum age was 44 to be in the Canadian Expeditionary Force for general service. He had enlisted at age 47 and was discharged after two years and 233 days of service at age 49.

His story ends with a typed card as the final entry in his military record indicating that he died in Hamilton on Christmas Day 1919 with his daughter, Miss Maude Crosswell shown as next of kin. His wife Beatrice had died shortly before his death. The typed death notice included this statement; “Death not due to Service”.

Note from Dick: An era long past. You don't get stories like this any more. Charles Henry Croswell's heart was easily as big as his body. He died just a year after his final discharge from the army. He was only 50 years of age but he lived a full life, most of it the way he wanted. He was a hard man to keep down -- or out, as the case may be.

DON'T LET FRISKINESS ON A BEAUTIFUL DAY GET IN THE WAY OF A NAP

OLD FAMILY HERITAGE HOMES WITH LOTS OF MEMORIES FOR ME

A watercolor rendering (by me) of my 140-year-old family home on Sydenham Street in Dresden. Note the original front door key imbedded in the mat of the picture frame.

Old homes fascinate me. I mean real old homes.

If only old homes could talk, what ghostly stories they could tell!

Furthermore there is nothing like an old home you once lived in to bring back memories -- happy, sad and in between. Lives once lived. A place where dreams were formulated. A comforting shelter from an at times harsh outside world.

I was literally raised in two old heritage homes in Dresden, ON. One was handed down to us (my mom and dad) by my grandparents Wesley and Louise Wright and the other a few blocks away owned by a very close and dearly-loved aunt, Hattie Sharpe.

"The Wright home" on Sydenham Street poses a bit of a mystery because of conflicting information. I was always led to believe that the red brick structure (one of the oldest in Dresden) was built by my grandfather in the late 1870s but there is another theory that it may have been built by William Wright (no relation), one of the town's founding fathers, before Wes and his second wife Annie moved into it. Complicating matters even further is the fact that Annie, a very young widow, was first married to another Wright who I have yet to definitively identify in any of my rather extensive family research.

Designated Heritage home in Dresden,
formerly owned by my aunt and uncle
Harold and Hattie Sharpe

Sufficient is this aspect of the home's history that I am determined to get to the bottom of it once and for all, hopefully with a visit to the Chatham-Kent Land Registry Office this spring. In retrospect, I should have closed the information gap before I sold the property in 1996 after the death of my mother Grace; even going so far as to possibly having it declared as a "heritage" holding. The matter has bothered me ever since.

No such mystery, however, with my Aunt Hattie's house at 396 Hughes Street, literally my second home when growing up (see attached photo) in the 1940's and '50's.  Reputedly and remarkably, this house is the most travelled in Dresden and the oldest on Hughes Street.  It was originally constructed on nearby Metcalfe Street, moved to St. George Street in 1870 and positioned at its present location in 1900. The white frame structure was originally constructed for Martha Webster, widow of George Webster, who latter married Dr. T.R. McInnes. As it happened, McInnes became close friends with famed black settler Josiah Henson and the relationship inspired him to write a poem called "Hard Times Come Again No More". He also wrote a number of other pieces and became a nationally respected writer.

One-year-old me sitting on the front porch railing of the Sharpe
home on Hughes Street in Dresden, Note the steadying hand.

It is understood that the doctor used half of the house for his office and the other half for a residence. The four-bedroom, one bath home remained divided during the three decades the Sharpes lived in it, the one half being rented to the Harvey Baverstock family.

Harold and Hattie Sharpe lived previously on a farm on the banks of the Sydenham River (eventually purchased by Fred Steeper) and bought the Hughes Street property in 1930. Harold, co-owner of a hardware business, passed away suddenly in 1936, leaving Hattie alone to raise three children Jack, Jim and Norma, all becoming prominent members of the community. 

The Georgian style residence has a number of features distinctive to Dresden homes. The transom over the front door and sidelights visible in the accompanying photo (behhind little Dickie) are good examples.

There are approximately 72 designated properties in the Chatham-Kent Municipal Heritage Register -- 17 in the historic Town of Dresden.

They say that home is where you hang your hat, but for me it is where a part of my heart remains -- with all those old familiar sounds, smells, surroundings, memories -- and yes, ghosts that refuse to talk to me. Never to return, because life is like that.

USING MOVEMENT TO BE A POSITIVE FORCE IN LIFE

It's your "move' on on the chessboard of life.

In her book Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, poet and essayist Annie Dillard quotes a humble woman who said, "Seem like we're jest set down here, and don't nobody know why? Asking why we exist has been an inexhaustible question for both philosophers and common people.

What is it all about?

Dillard adds her own twist to the woman's comment: "Some unwonted, taught pride diverts us from our original intent," she writes, "which is to explore the neighborhood, view the landscape, to discover at least where it is that we have been so startlingly set down, even if we can't learn why." She shifts the question from "Why in the world do we exist?" to "Where in the world are we going?"

If indeed we so-called Christians are living in a time of exile or dislocation when things are uncertain, it is an opportune time to ask, Where are we?...Where are we going?  If we are to know where we are, it makes sense that we should explore the neighborhood.

Most people would say we are "set down here" to explore. Why else would each one of us have a brain to think with? But think again.  The primary purpose of the brain is to choose and regulate our movement; it is also designed to direct the movements of other living things and objects. Under the brain's direction, three sets of movable body parts function -- 1) legs, feet and toes; 2) arms, hands and fingers; 3) face, neck and tongue. "It is not our feet that move us along," attests the Chinese proverb, "it is our minds."

Perhaps a different kind of movement
but a good question nonetheless. 

The word animus means "mind" and it is the root word from which are hewn the words animal and animation (betchu didn't know that, as a certain American president would say). Our everyday expressions contain other words indicating a cessation in movement, from deadline to deadbeat, dead ball to deadlock. Movement is associated with life. For instance, in our neurological makeup, we are designed to crawl, climb and leap. When movement stops, life ends -- it is as simple as that.

More than we realize, movement is connected to learning.  A naural process, it is now understood to be essential to learning, creative thought and higher level forms of learning. With movement, the neural wiring in one's body is activated and the whole body becomes part of learning.

John Melinda. author of Brain Rules, calls physical activity "cognitive candy". As Ella Fitzgerald used to sing, "It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing."

Consider this too...Movement is central to an understanding of mission in our lives. In other words, "send out."  Movement, then, is a significant part of both biblical content and spiritual living. We learn from the Bible that Jesus inspired one of the first movements, subsequently named "The Way."  The movement had no doctrines, no consensus on how to live, no prescribed liturgy to follow, no physical location for cohesion (like Rome), just the incredible impact Jesus had on the lives of his followers and the conviction that his spirit moved them along.

When the time came to support the movement, four small books called Gospels were written, with the purpose of showing how the young man from Nazareth was relevant to those who lived outside of Palestine a generation after his death.

As I suggested previously, only the living can live. Where and how we move is a matter of individual choice. Sydney Carter, who wrote the hymn "The Lord of the Dance," composed songs that depict life as a journey. Interestingly, he once remarked: 

"Everything is traveling: there is no way out of it. But there are different ways of doing it.  You can travel inertly like a stone which is hurled in the air. You can travel reluctantly like a dog which drags against the lead. You can embrace the necessity of traveling; you can leap and dance along.

The kingdom of heaven (if you like) or God: it lies ahead of us, yet it travels in us too...We are pulled in two directions, and we have a choice. We are privileged or condemned to be free. We can drag or we can drag along."

As Carter proposes, we can live our lives in one of three ways: inertly, reluctantly or freely. Our lives can be inert, uninspired, a passive going-through-the-motions with no thought or choice of our own that thrusts us forward. Or we can move reluctantly; that is, only if we are nudged or badgered.  Our heart is either not in it or less that half in it. The third movement is freedom, being a willing and engaged participant.  We dance with the stars. 

It is my contention that movement favors opportunity, new beginnings and exploration of possibilities where we are willing to try things we never thought of trying before. In spite of what you may think, you are never too old. Remember, once you stop moving, it is game over.

Are we people of the way or in the way? Are we ready to explore the neighborhood?

We are set down here to move as adventurers blazing new paths in all aspects of life -- for the good of all. We never get anywhere by standing still, or living in the past.

Be a force that helps a worthwhile movement to move forward!...Better still, start your own movement and seek others to join in!!! You'll think of something if you look around your neighborhood.