A MESSAGE IS INCLUDED WITH EVERY FEATHER I FIND

My interest in feathers was fueled a number of years ago by a dear literary friend from British Columbia who had studied in depth the celebration of "Potlatch" by the Indigenous peoples of Northwestern B.C.

While the symbolism of the feather and its connection to the "element of air" is one factor of why Indigenous peoples use feathers in their smudging rituals, birds in general play an extremely important role in the culture. Because of this, feathers are utilized in many rituals and ceremonies, and are commonly included in traditional clothing and costumes.

Birds in fact share many messages and lessons with Indigenous people. For instance, as a new day arrives and the sun begins to rise, birds greet the new day with their songs and help to wake everyone up for the new day. Each bird plays an important role, with specific work and tasks to be done throughout the day.

Wild Turkey feather from my
collection dwarfs one from a
Sparrow that also happened
to fall onto my path. I keep
them displayed together near
my computer keyboard as a 
reminder that size need not
be indicative of the value 
of the messages I convey on
this site.

Birds are also believed to have a special connection with the Creator, and the use of their feathers helps to forge a deeper connection with the Spirit, the Creator, and ourselves. That, succinctly, is at the root of my fascination for the discarded "gifts" that I find along the way, compliments of our winged friends. I am never without at least a dozen feathers scattered in various locations throughout my house at any one time.

I even devoted a chapter to the subject in one of the books I published a few years ago and more recently shared 50 feathers from my collection with a church congregation during a worship service I was leading.

For me, finding a feather is to experience the joy that lies behind its perceived meaning, and it creates an unblocking of any bad energies I may be experiencing at the time. It is almost instant as I feel the waves of peace crash around me.

While this harmless exercise requires a degree of creative imagination, believing that this moment is only for me gives personal space to explore any issues I may be experiencing, particularly those related to overcoming past hurt, which is a great comfort. 

From the realms of the divine to the physical world, feathers convey messages of love and care directly to us. Since they are believed to be sent by angels and to represent spiritual beings of light and faith, spotting one signifies that you are extremely fortunate to have found happiness and comfort in your day. A message, perhaps from Heaven, meant specifically for the one who finds it, probably in the grass or on a sidewalk immediately below a tree.

Finding any kind of feather can be a sign that your angels are nearby, but it can also serve as a reminder to tune in to the energy in the air around you so that your vibrations can be balanced. 

By pausing your thoughts and tuning into their golden white light, you can engage in introspective reflection and allow that light to energize your soul.

I am reminded of an incident involving my granddaughter Becky almost 30 years ago. A toddler at the time (now a mother of two sons) Becky had become my aide-de-camp with an uncanny radar in adding to a growing collection of feathers. 

My wife Anne had just passed away and we were visiting her grave site for the first time a few days after the funeral when Becky suddenly bolted from the car, almost before it had come to a full stop. She raced directly to a spot in the cemetery, some 50 yards away, and bent down as if to be picking up something.

When I caught up to her I realized she was standing directly on Anne's still ungroomed burial ground and lo and behold she was cradling a rather large black feather in her chubby hands.

Temporarily, I could not believe what I was witnessing. I vaguely recall mumbling words to the effect: "That (the feather) is surely a message from Gramma in Heaven and she's telling us not to be sad," to which Becky registered silent but knowing childish agreement; her radar for finding feathers having kicked in once again.

As we waited in amazement, without prompting Becky took it upon herself to carefully place the feather on her grandmother's grave stone. Overcome with the warm essence of Anne's presence, we paused in silence for a few minutes before turning and walking back to the car. A chorus of birds chirping in a distant tree broke the summery silence. We didn't say much on the way home.

Special emotionally moving spiritual moments like that you never forget.

A skeptic may well assign coincidental happenchance to what I have just described...I choose to be convinced otherwise, however.

There's no harm in any of that!

WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE?

What's a smoothie got to do with it?

Recently I was watching a children’s television show, when the host was asked, “What is the meaning of Life?” His response was typical: “I don’t know,” but what he said next made me laugh out loud: “I don’t know, but I could really go for a smoothie right now!”

It’s funny to think about, but isn’t that how many of us respond to the big questions of life? "I don’t have the answer but a smoothie sure sounds good right about now!"

We end up numbing ourselves with immediate pleasures when what we really need to do is search for the truth. We mask our deep longings for meaning in different ways, sometimes with the classic drugs of our society -- alcohol, opiates, food, prescription pain killers -- or we do it with “good things” that become ends in themselves: our careers, our families, our busyness, our God-given abilities.

YOUR EXISTENCE MATTERS. YOU ARE A UNIQUE BEING WITH SOMETHING SPECIAL WHICH YOU MAY NOT EVEN BE AWARE OF.

Look within, it may sound funny at this moment if you have never done it before, but so what? Do it now! The potential exists for a new day...and a new you.

As Socrates once said, “The unexamined life is not worth Living”. So when the deep, foundational questions of our existence bubble up to the surface, may we look first deep within ourselves...instead of a smoothie.

Know what I'm saying!?

HEAVEN HELP US IF WE LOSE COMPASION IN THE END!

There is a psychological condition known as “compassion fatigue.” Sometimes referred to as the negative cost of caring, it is characterized by emotional and physical exhaustion leading to a diminished ability to empathize or feel compassion for others. 

Yet, as a community, we know that exercising our compassion ultimately strengthens us, and expressing compassion for others is at the heart of what is right in today’s world.

I like the story of a family that was living in cramped quarters. Good fortune struck, and they were able to move into a much larger home. Someone asked the ten-year-old boy in the family how he liked his new house. He said, “I like it a lot. Now I have a room all to myself, and so do each of my sisters.” Then he paused for a moment and said, “But I feel sorry for mom. She still has to stay in dad’s room.” 

Although he misunderstood the situation, it was clear that the little boy was expressing a genuine feeling of compassion for his mom. I think his father would have appreciated the innocent humor tucked away in such sincere sentiments.

There is also a French play with a passage in it that might be a bit haunting if you let yourself think about it for a while.  In the play all the good people are at the gates of Heaven on the day of judgment. The gates are about to be opened, and the good folks can hardly wait to get in. And then a rumor starts. Even at the gates of heaven, it seems, rumors start. Someone says, “He is going to forgive those others too!” 

For a moment, the people clamoring at the gates are utterly dumbfounded, speechless. Then they look at each other and start to gasp and sputter in disbelief, all trying to talk at the same time: “After all the trouble I went through!” “If only I had known this, things sure would have been different!”

Some the would-be Pearly Gates entrants are so worked up by the realization that God will also have compassion on those others that they begin to curse Him. And in that instant, they are damned. 

It all came down to compassion and the so-called “good” people lost sight of it in the end, much to their eternal peril.

ON LIVING IN THE MOMENT WITH "I AM"

...In keeping with the season:

In Matthew's biblical account of the birth of Jesus, we read, "The virgin will conceive and give birth to a Son and they will call Him Immanuel, a name which means God-is-with-us" (Mt. 1:23).

The following poem, entitled "Windows of Wonder," offers us a moving reflection on this Gospel Text. In it, the author imagines the following dialogue with the Lord God:

I was regretting the past,
and fearing the future.
Suddenly my Lord was speaking:

"My name is I AM"
He paused.
I waited.
He continued.

"When you live in the past,
with its mistakes and regrets,
it is hard. I am not there.
My name is not I WAS.

"When you live in the future,
with its problems and fears,
it is hard. I am not there.
My name is not I Will Be.

"When you live in this moment,
it is not hard. I am here.
My name is I AM."

*Dick's message to self: "Live in the here and now. That's where you are at...And so is God!

IN REALITY PEACE ON EARTH MEANS GLOBAL HARMONY

Have a holly, jolly Christmas
It’s the best time of the year
I don’t know if there’ll be snow
But have a cup of cheer
Have a holly, jolly Christmas
And when you walk down the street
Say hello to friends you know
And everyone you meet
Oh, ho the mistletoe
Hung where you can see
Somebody waits for you
Kiss her once for me
Have a holly, jolly Christmas
And in case you didn’t hear
Oh by golly have a holly jolly Christmas
This year

NOTE TO READER: This post is not intended to take anything away from the "real" reason why we of the Christian faith celebrate the Christmas season. Rather, it is to give significance to the "Holly Jolly" aspect of Christmas that has been introduced with the emergence of a mythical old gent by the name Santa Claus and the spirit of giving.

Initially, it should be explained that "real reality" is used to distinguish an experience or interaction from virtual reality or any other fictional, fantasy or lifelike experience. Philosophically speaking, what is and isn't real is a matter of debate, especially when virtual reality and other digital experiences are becoming increasingly hard to distinguish from real-life experiences.

‘Tis the season to be jolly! But to do that, is it necessary to believe in a plump little man with a white beard who gives away presents?

Absolutely not! Because there really was a Santa Claus … St. Nicholas, whose nickname was Sinter Klaas, a shortened form of Sint Nikolaas (Dutch for Saint Nicholas). He was admired for his piety and kindness, and it is said he gave away all his inherited wealth and traveled the countryside helping the poor and sick.

Dr. Pieter Noonmen

In my studies I have discovered another humble, pious man who spread joy, kindness and wisdom … and who also has passed on (2019), yet is still offering his “gifts” to all those who care to have them, just as free as Santa’s Christmas presents. His name was Dr. Pieter Noomen, and his gifts are the massive amount of wise and spiritual writings he posted on his website. 

Another similarity between St. Nick and Pieter Noomen is that both believed in a higher power, and many of Dr. Noomen’s writings are the words of that higher power, which he believed were spoken directly to him. He didn’t like to make a big deal out of it; he just wanted to share what he had learned. Perfectly relatable in the context of one like-minded writer to another. 
 
“I hesitate to provide personal data,” the late Dr. Noomen once said. “Not because there are things to hide, but because my not-spectacular background may, in a negative way, influence readers who are not familiar with the world in which I grew up -- the Western European and the North American culture. The particulars of my life as an average person are not too interesting, except that they may lead to the wondering, ‘If someone like him (St. Nicholas) was given the possibility to be in direct contact with the full, the Real Reality, while still on earth, then it must be possible for me, too.’”

And perhaps it’s possible for all of us, too. Here is what Dr. Noomen said he was told by his Real Reality one December day:

“You are in the midst of Christmas celebrations. Many, also outside of your culture, are touched by its sphere. 'Peace on earth,' indeed, means global harmony in activities and interests for all pulling and pushing forces. Each human being, with or without religion, has moments of longing for this. Naturally, because it is a component of their own constitution. Allowing this longing to grow and acting upon it solidifies your connection with eternity. It will not bring 'heaven on earth,’ but it uncovers what existence is all about.”

Oh, how those words and the ones that follow resonate with me! 

“When you live up to your nature as a free contributor to the totality of life and do that as harmoniously as you can by being a bringer of peace, forgiveness and new perspectives, then your journey is a blessed one.”

POST NOTE: Dr. Pieter Noomen sought to forever change the soul of humanity through meticulously recollecting the communications he shared with a spiritual presence, which brought him profound wisdom and insight. His website, www.wordsforall.org, is for anyone seeking an authentic connection with our Maker.

The time will come for all of us to meet our Maker. But, according to Noomen, we need not wait until the end of our physical lives to experience a direct, personal connection with the One Who Is Life.

Noomen, who passed away in April 2019, was a psychotherapist who, about 25 years ago, began studying the insights of Dr. Peter D. Francuch, who communicated with what he called “the Positive State.” Noomen would go on to read about, and meet, others who had experienced a direct, personal connection with the One Who Is Life — and that is when his own spiritual path widened significantly. Before his passing, Noomen shared his remarkable experiences and offered access to the Source of that information in his writings on his previously-mentioned website.

He posited that directly or indirectly, life stems from one common source and that to connect with that source is the highest level of existence we can achieve on earth. Over the course of many years, he experienced transformative “visits” on the spirit level — and he freely shared the universal and eternal facts of life that were communicated to him.

As Noomen himself explained, “I can only say that the information came from a presence on my innermost spiritual level I was in communication with for some time. The words seem the result of my spirit merging with the spirit of life It/Her/Himself.”

Visitors to Noomen’s website can read about the 12 components of life through his 12 booklets: Oneness, Love, Life, Fire, Space, Connectedness, Progression, Effect, Free-dom, Joy, Differentness and Harmony. Throughout his writings, Noomen avoids using the name of any deity, such as God, and instead uses what he refers to as The Seven Names, each of which relates on a human level to the situation at hand: One Holy, Love, Truth, Proper, Healing, Manifestation and Energy.

A series of lessons on the site shares 147 thought-provoking questions and the illuminating answers that came to him during his extensive communications with the All Spirit.

“In death,” Noomen wrote, “everyone will, without exception and in a purely personal way, find out whether or not there is another dimension of existence.” The reflections shared on Noomen’s website invite readers to not wait until the end of their earthly lives for the answer.

Born in the Netherlands, Dr. Noomen completed doctoral studies in theology and pastoral psychology at the Free University of Amsterdam and was senior minister of three protestant churches. Later he worked as a psychotherapist and as a staff member of a Los Angeles metropolitan church. He was involved in mental health issues like suicide prevention and hospice.

TRUST AND FAITH CAN FULFILL US TOO

There is the story of a man crossing the desert in the days of the early American pioneers. He had run out of water and was dying of thirst. Suddenly, he spotted a water pump near an abandoned shack. He inched his way to the pump, mustering enough strength to work the handle, but nothing happened; no water came. 

Then he noticed a jug near the pump with a note attached. The message read: "There is just enough water in this jug to prime the pump, but not if you drink some first. This well has never gone dry, even in the worst of times. Just pour all the water from the jug into the pump and then work the handle quickly. After you have satisfied your thirst, refill this jug for the next person in need."

What should the man dying of thirst have done? The contents of the note called for complete trust in the person who wrote it. But if the dying man followed the instructions, he ran the risk of pouring all the water from the jug into a pump that might fail. He was being asked to put his trust in the message unconditionally. He was being asked to respond to the message in complete faith. He was being asked to accept, without reservation, the absolute truth of the message. And in so doing, he may save the next dying person to come along.

Hmmmm. Kind of reminds one of the Christian belief system that many of us old folk grew up in, doesn't it.

Through the Bible we learn that God has plans for everyone of us. We may not understand those plans but it is up to us to study every detail He’s given humanity so we can see what He can (and does) do for us in untold ways. We might not ever understand His plans, but we can learn that we don’t need to understand them. We just need to trust and have faith in them.

...And govern ourselves accordingly by leaving jugs of water at the pump of life that may fulfill the thirst of others who follow us.

ABOUT FULFILMENT AS IT RELATES TO PURPOSE

Comedian Paula Poundstone once quipped, “Adults are always asking kids what they want to be when they grow up because they are looking for ideas for themselves.”

Indeed, life’s journey offers us endless choices. The problem is, as some say, “by the time you know your way around, you don’t feel like going.” Perhaps that is somewhat the way author John Stuart Mill felt at one point in his life. In his autobiography, Mill said that his father had recognized that he was a very gifted child and proceeded to cram his head with all sorts of knowledge. However, since he had no religious faith of his own, the father would not allow anything religious to become part of his son’s education.

Looking back on his education with a deep sense of loss, Mill said that his mind was full with information, but his soul was starved. He said, “I was left at the commencement of my voyage with a well-equipped ship — but no sail.”

There is little doubt that many can identify with John Stuart Mill’s complaint — a well-equipped ship but no sail. We need something to push up the value of our hopes and dreams. We need something to push us up and over the waves of emptiness that pound our bored and weary souls. We need something to give us new life. We need something to get us sailing again toward genuine life goals. In the words of Louise Fletcher:

“I wish there were some wonderful place called the Land of Beginning Again, where all our mistakes and heartaches could be dropped like a shabby old coat at the door and never be put on again.”

In recent posts on Wrights Lane I have talked a lot about finding (or losing) purpose in life. Well, lets get real folks!

A lot of people believe that finding their purpose in life will give them happiness. Chances are pretty good it won’t. Here’s the thing about purpose: it may not be pleasant or happy. For instance, what if your purpose in life is volunteering at a crisis call center? Or working in a hospital emergency room? Or working with people in poverty?

Many things are worth doing that provide a sense of purpose but in reality aren’t happy at all. In fact, the things that really need to be done usually are not necessarily going to be happy. But dedicating your time and life to a purpose is something that can provide ultimate personal  "fulfillment".

Fulfillment, or filling a need within us...That is really what I am talking about.

Bottom line, fulfilment is at the heart of a life worth living. More often than not it involves giving of yourself in a meaningful way.

It is a feeling that transcends others because you can feel bad, frustrated, angry, or even happy and feel fulfilled at the same time because it is a feeling tied to the important things in life -- who you are and what you do with your life. In this regard I draw a direct parallel to the food-for-thought ramblings I post on Wrights Lane.

If you are able to align who you are and what you do with your life you will find fulfilment. But you will need help and support along the way to attain it and keep on the path that will sustain it. Dare I suggest encouragement that can come in unexpected forms.

So the question becomes not about what can we do to reach fulfilment in life, but more about who we are? how we express ourselves authentically? how do we get past personal defenses? how do we know what our core values and principles are? and can we rejoice in others as they fulfill their purpose through a wide variety of ways in which they give, share and express themselves?

It is such questions that will lead us to fulfilment of purpose in life and to answer these questions we need to do the work on ourselves. A little prayer along the way certainly helps too.

Anyway, that's the way I see it!

LESSON TO BE LEARNED FROM BEST FRIED CHICKEN

Sad to say, as my 85th year rapidly draws to a close and I struggle with some health issues that are sure to get me in the end, I find myself struggling to hold on to purpose in what is left of my life. In so doing, I am reminded of the following story.

There was once a man who was ambitious but didn’t really know what he was good at. He tried his hand at various businesses:

-- Ferry boats services
-- Selling lamps
-- Gas station
-- Motel

Unfortunately, he failed at all of those endeavors.

He was already 65 years of age at that time. Most people would have tossed in the towel and just accept life as it is. But he refused to give up...He tried cooking.

One day, he accidently fried some of the best chicken he had ever tasted. Unknown to him this was the turning point of his life. You see, this man eventually fried "The World’s Best Fried Chicken". Then he sold his recipe for a million dollars.

Who is this man? And how did he ever succeed even at his advanced age?

You no doubt guessed by now that he is Colonel Sanders, the founder of Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC), a Food and Beverage restaurant chain that has 25,000 branches all over the world.

The secret to his finger-licking good success is simple. He didn’t let his old age get the best of him. You see, Sanders realized that his true purpose in life was to be a chef and serve great tasting fried chicken to the world. It doesn’t matter how old you are or how poorly you’ve done in life previously, overnight success can be achievable when one discovers their true purpose in life.

But here's the thing, not everyone is as lucky as Sanders. Some people die with the song that hasn’t been sung and that is a shame.

As Mark Twain once said, "The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why."

And you know what? I have just recognized, perhaps rediscovered, my purpose and it has everything to do with a God-given gift that I have increasingly sold short because I lacked faith in my ability to continue delivering in a meaningful way. I'm just not going to give in to that self-degrading impulse anymore.

A GIFT IN THE FORM OF A HOSPITAL NURSE

I spent all of last week in hospital due to complications suspected to be related to current cancer treatments. During the entire time I had a feeling that there would ultimately be a message in what I was experiencing, both emotionally and physically. 

My nurse on the day I was given the final all-clear for release was a rather imposing young woman with whom I felt an immediate connection. I watched attentively as she painstakingly scrolled the letters ZAWADI in chalk on the patient chart mounted on a wall in my room. Unable to contain my odd sense of humor, I asked: "Is that an Irish name?"

I detected a giggle and suspected a smile under the mask she was wearing, even though her back was turned to me.

"No, it is Swahilli," she responded rather matter-of-factly as she completed entering my latest vital statistics on the board. Almost as an afterthought, she then turned and asked "Do you know what Zawadi means in Swahilli?" Without pausing for an answer from me, she added "Zawadi means 'gift'!"

Nothing more was said on the subject but my mind was awhirl.

I'd received the message I was looking for and it was truly a "gift", thanks to an unforgettable  nurse named Zawadi.

PEOPLE I'VE MET: A FLASHBACK

In the capacity of Media Relations Director for the Insurance Bureau of Canada in 1982, Dick was a key organizer for Toronto's first Insure Run for the Heart, a half-marathon event that featured Canadian Olympian Diane Jones Konihowski as the official starter. In the above photo Dick surprized the then pregnant national star athlete with the presentation of a special T-shirt bearing the presumptuous and forward-looking words "Competitor 2000 Olympics" to be ideally given to her first born child at a suitable time in the future.

A renowned world-class pentathlete, Diane was the 1978 Commonwealth Champion and number one in the world. She won gold at the 1975 & 1979 Pan-American Games and was a medalists for three Canadian Olympic teams, specializing in pentathlon events such as shot put, sprints and long jump. She was the Chef de Mission of the 2000 Canadian Olympic Team in Sydney, Australia. She since became a member of the Order of Canada, the Saskatchewan Sports Hall of Fame, Canadian Olympic Sports Hall of Fame, and the Alberta Sports Hall of Fame and Museum. She is part of the Class of 2020-21 to receive the Order of Sport in Canada’s Sport Hall of Fame honor and only recently retired as long-serving director of Fund Development and Communications at Distress Centre in Calgary. She holds a Bachelor of Education degree from the University of Saskatchewan, and honorary Doctor of Laws Degrees from the U of S and Brock University. She has worked as a national team coach, University instructor, Calgary Sun columnist, and for CBC Edmonton AM and CBC TV Calgary.

Diane is is married to former Canadian Football League player John Konihowski and would ultimately become the mother of two beautiful daughters (as fate would have it, neither one becoming a competitor in the 2000 Olympics) and grandmother to three.

ONE LAST EFFORT TO ATTEND A CHURCH SERVICE AFTER COMBINED PANDEMIC AND ILLNESS IMPOSED HIATUS

Mother and son, new church members in October, 1951

Grace Wright and her 13-year-old son were welcomed into membership of St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church in Dresden, ON. in the fall of 1951 and together were later received into full Communion. In less than two years time young Dick became the teacher of a class of Sunday School boys a mere five years his junior, thus filling a vacancy left with the death of his youth leader father Ken in 1952.

Just one month shy of 71 years to the day of being received into the full communion of the Presbyterian Church in Canada, I attended what may well be my last worship service this Sunday, October 30. It has truly been a long journey in search of spiritual fulfilment, with sufficient detours in personal faith, commitment and growth over the years to last what has turned out to be an extended lifetime.

Almost three years in absentia due to the unfortunate  complications of cancer which has just recently reared its ugly head once again, the necessity of several serious surgeries followed by extended rounds of radiation and chemotherapy rendering me a virtual recluse (thanks in no small measure to coincidental isolation precautions imposed with the advent of COVID 19), I experienced an overwhelming impulse when preparing for bed Saturday evening. Something seemed to be urging me to make a super-human effort next morning to get up early, pull myself together with hope of avoiding the very real possibility of ostomy emergencies that tend to interrupt daily routines, in order to pay a long overdue visit to my old church congregation at St. Andrew's in Southampton...as I say, for perhaps one last time, given the uncertainty of what lies ahead as I face the return of the now inoperable colon cancer in what assuredly will be the final laps of the aforementioned journey that has taken me into my 85th year thus far.

My heart was heavy as I slowly negotiated my way up the steps of the century-old church and into the sanctuary this morning, feeling very much like an intruder after such an extended leave. I struggled with composure as I was greeted with the familiar sights, sounds and smells of the aged worship chamber, in addition to the recognition of a dozen profiles of people I hadn't seen for a while. 

I had no trouble finding my favorite pew of long standing and it was vacant -- in fact, there was only one other person sitting on that particular side of the sparsely occupied church. 

The Order of Service was a condensed version of the one I was accustomed to -- sans choir, anthem, offertory and the traditional passing of collection plates. As in all walks of life and out of necessity due to changing circumstances and times, some things change and not always for the better to my traditional way of thinking. The same may be said of me, I rationalized in an attempt to shrug off attention deficit symptoms that blurred the message coming from the pulpit.

I made several pathetic, vain attempts to sing along with some of the hymns but discretion dictated that I just listen because I could not keep up with the words printed in the hymnal. The once rich(?) baritone voice with which I formally belted out lyrics, was reduced to a forced squeak, hence added validity to the expression "If you don't use it, you lose it."

The minister, Rev. Randy Benson, made prayerful reference to Psalms 23:4: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;" which hit home with me as a reminder of scripture from Revelations 2:10 quoted on the Communion Certificates (reproduced above) presented to me and my mother 71 years before: "Be thou faithful unto death and I will give thee the crown of life."

I had a chance to renew some acquaintances and say a few goodbyes over coffee at the back of the church following the service.  Upon exiting I remembered the small offering cheque in my pocket that I had written at home earlier in the morning and had to retrace a dozen steps in order to place it on an innocuous collection plate located at the back of the pews, conspicuous only because of its emptiness. "They didn't take up offering," I said to no one in particular. One of the ladies standing nearby said she would make sure my meagre contribution got into the hands of the treasurer.

All in all, an interesting and meaningful experience in many respects. I think that God acknowledged my intentions but I suppress the impulse to feel self-righteous about it.

It was the least I could do after 71 years of adhering to the faith, and I'm glad I responded to the impulse. No big deal really, but it did feel good in a soul-nourishing sort of way...As going to church on Sunday morning always had in better, loftier days!

God bless those who tarry within!

SALUTE TO MY READERS

THANKS FOR HANGING IN WITH ME OVER THE YEARS FOLKS!

 VIDEO: I'VE NEVER CHANGED...NOT!!!

KIND OF SCARY REALLY...

Dispelling the myth that you get better with age.

ONE LAST THOUGHT: ODE TO A SQUARE PEG

Long ago I learned to accept that from birth I have been a living-breathing misfit of sorts. A square peg never fitting into life's round holes, as hard as I may have tried to twist, turn and force with awkward contorts.

In the aftermath of rejection and dismissal I have learned, however, to be fit enough for myself. To be able, as the days go by, to always look myself straight in the eye. Taking ownership of traits and foibles reaching well up to the sky.

In truth, while unavoidable at times, I never wanted to stand with the setting sun and hate myself for the things I'd done.

Or to think negatively of the odd impulse to round off those (square) edges of birth, resulting in lesser versions of me struggling to fit in where there was little worth.

Still sadly, all too often for my sake, I'm reminded of the times when my perceived best was not good enough, leaving me paddling helplessly against an imposing wake.

I've not wanted to keep on a closet shelf a lot of the secrets about myself, likewise avoiding involvement in sham. To this day wanting to go out with my head held erect, deserving of others' respect for the person I really am.

I can never hide myself and from me; I see what others may never see; I know what others may never know...but at no time can I fool the kind of guy I've come to be.  

So now, in your Grace dear God, allow me finally one elusive fit. That of belonging in what's left of this round hole I recognize as life itself and it's every bit. 

O how wonderful it would be to experience just once the inside engagement of communion as a whole instead of so often viewing it from the limitations of an outside knothole.

I readily acknowledge that mine is simply to do or die; still in the process it gets rather heavy carrying it all in the baggage of one me, myself and I. 

DON'T BE A STRANGER

ATTENTION READER: Even though I no longer actively contribute to this site, I do regularly check in on it just to monitor visitor frequency and on-going interest in subject matter, all of which continues to be exceedingly gratifying.

Because of regretful on line social media communications failure in recent months I have lost personal contact with many friends. All the more reason for me to invite everyone to say hello or pass on a comment when they drop in to Wrights Lane.  You may also connect with me via email at wrightwords@eastlink.ca. 

It would be good to hear from you!

ON WRIGHTS LANE: THAT'S ALL SHE WROTE FOLKS!

A "Take 30" wrap on a tireless blog site journey and labor of love. 

It is readily acknowledged that everything in life eventually comes to an end, this blog site being no exception. Even the trusty computer by which in excess of several thousand individual posts have been produced on Wrights Lane over a 14-year period is showing signs of wearing out...and I have no intentions of replacing it, if perchance it happens to give up the ghost before me.

Creative thought committed to the written word has been my life for almost three quarters of a century. I have often said that writing has been a therapeutic release for me, a derivative of creativity and resultant satisfaction -- a means by which I have sorted out things in my life, justified by the rationalization that if something is on my mind there is a good chance that it is on other people's minds as well.

I have had pride in all authorship, but have died a thousand deaths on many occasions and lost countless hours of sleep as a result. Satisfaction has come from any form of positive response from readers.

My written output has humbly run the gamut from social commentary, human interest, humor and personal experience (humiliation), to religious exploration and man-on-the-street reaction to politics and other controversial happenings in an increasingly complex world...Ideally leaving the reader with food-for-thought messages of varying degrees, be they often subtle and otherwise implicated.

All that, however, is past tense. That was then and this is NOW. In my 85th year I have become mentally and physically fatigued. The creative well has run dry. In the twilight, inspiration and necessary motivation have become increasingly hard to come by. Like so many other things in everyday life, writing has become an effort. I acknowledge futility of purpose and redundancy creeping up on me and I have finally come to grips with the fact that I am better keeping the muddled thoughts of an old man's mind to myself.

Mind you, ideas for stories still present themselves to me but the inclination to take the necessary next step (i.e. turn on the computer for starters) is lacking and I give in to the "why bother, who cares" attitude. It simply does not matter any more and I have no qualms about dismissing remnants of former creative impulses and the will to publish them for public consumption.

I rest easy as I free myself from the stress of worrying about reader perception of what I have written and the over-riding compulsion to fill up space on the computer screen in a meaningful way. There is an internal sense of peace in sitting on the sidelines as life passes without commentary from me. God knows I've tried to save the world, albeit ever so marginally in retrospect and to virtually no avail!

What is left of my energy now goes to putting one foot ahead of the other, smelling the proverbial precious fragrances of life, relating to children, animals, like-minded people and humor in all things, coupled with at least 10 hours of sleep nightly and nutrition befitting my tastes and impulses. After a life of too frequent exhaustive undertakings and personal immersions, I have remarkably come to feel comfortable with taking my foot off the pedal, so to speak. 

It is with resolve that I accept the futility engrained in a naive sense of purpose in being all things to all people and a concession that misunderstandings and misinterpretations are unfortunately a fact of life. You can never win 'em all as hard as you might try!

I buy into the concept that Life, no matter how little may be left of it, is for the liver! I am committed to forthwith enjoying every minute of it, even if it kills me!! My destiny rests in the hands of health care providers, inbred fortitude, stubborn will...and a much higher power.

The foregoing is undoubtedly the last I will have to say on this, or any other subject, on Wrights Lane and elsewhere. For lack of better wording, it is a Swan Song. My literary legacy will stay on  public record in the form of published work and a roster of blog sites hosted by Google.

Meantime dear friend, thanks once again for visiting. We may never go this way again!

Hark, the haunting and unmistakeable refrains of the "fat lady" singing to the lingering crowd at the end of a sporting event"!

God Bless Us...ALL.

When it is over, it is surely over; leaving another void destined to never be filled, and purposes unfulfilled -- yea undiscovered and denied.

    --30--

I'M A FACEBOOK OUTCAST...AND WHO CARES?

A follow up to a previous post.

Facebook users around the world, including me, have been waking up to find themselves locked out of their accounts for no apparent reason.

The message many received reads: "Your Facebook account was disabled because it did not follow our Community Standards. This decision can't be reversed." There is no warning or explanation given.

Parent firm Meta said it has been investigating.

In a tweet, Meta's Andy Stone said: "We're aware that some users are experiencing issues accessing their Facebook accounts and we are working to resolve them as quickly as possible." He did not say how many were affected, or what the issue was, but it had to be in the thousands.

PR consultant Jen Roberts was one of those to find herself locked out of her account. She said "I haven't posted anything or commented for quite some time, so it's extremely unlikely that I've done anything that could be construed as offensive."

But, despite not being an avid user, finding her account locked was still upsetting: "All of the images from my university years and family occasions are on Facebook."I will no longer have access to 15-plus years of content, which is genuinely sad.

"It is also quite stressful not knowing what the issue is, and having no recourse to resolve it. To be given no warning and then no way to access our own data is mindboggling."

In my case, as an avid Facebook user for 20 years, I have been disabled twice and forced to establish a new account (Dick Wright initially and Richard (Dick) Wright the last time). In the process, I have lost access to a family group which I created and administered, including hundreds of photos and records that I contributed to other sites. Worst of all I have lost my only contact with several hundred friends and the ability to connect via word text (messaging) with any of them. Still, oddly enough, my profiles remain assessable to everyone but me. I'm completely closed out of Facebook. Period!

In spite of a previous notice on Wrights Lane explaining my dilemma and offering an alternative method of contacting me, no one has been concerned enough to respond which kind of tells me something.

Eventually, I frustratingly ran out of new pass words and the establishment of email accounts sufficient to sustain Facebook participation. In the end I simply gave up the ghost, life being as short and as precious as it is.

I am a Facebook outcast...and maybe it is in my best interest.

As I say, I don't know what I did wrong. Perhaps Facebook disliked my linking to religiously inspired posts on my Wrights Lane blog site...There is a distinct possibility too, that they think Richard (Dick) Wright stole the already blocked Dick Wright's identity. I see nothing in Facebook's "community standards" that I have been referred to that gives any semblance of a reasonably applicable suggestion and it is all beyond me.

While I have been left confused and detached, I readily acknowledge that the time I used to spend on Facebook is now better spent on the things in my life that really matter.

Old friends still matter, of course...but in lieu of telephone numbers, home addresses and email addresses I just have no way of contacting them. It is kind of like dying, socially speaking, or dropping off the face of the world.

And, in the end, who cares. Really!

No doubt that I am just one of countless other old souls that a scary world of algorithms and artificial intelligence is leaving behind in antiquity.

NATIONAL YOUTH ORCHESTRA OF CANADA RECOGNITION FOR A TALENTED SOUTHAMPTON PERCUSSIONIST

Ask mother, Sheri Selman what she thinks of the cultural musical community in Saugeen Shores and, she will … “want to shout from the rooftops”. The reason is her daughter, Rebecca a Gr. 11 student at Saugeen District Senior School (SDSS), has been accepted into one of the most prestigious youth bands in Canada.

Rebecca Selman

I am a keen observer of young people and I have watched "Becca" Selman growing up in Southampton since she was an infant in her father's arms visiting her mom Sheri when she was a counter clerk at the local Tim Hortons some 17 years ago. My perceptive instinct seemed to tell me that there was something uniquely different about the petite and out-going youngster (like mother, like daughter) when I occasionally came across her over the years...and as it turned out, I was right.

Becca has turned into an accomplished percussionist and is one of the newest and youngest members of The Georgian Bay Symphony Orchestra and, if that isn't enough, she has now been accepted into the Canadian Band Association 2022 National Youth Orchestra of Canada. Under the auspices of the CBA, The National Youth Band of Canada is a unique musical experience that provides Canada’s talented student musicians, ages 16-22, with an outstanding opportunity to perform and network with a renowned Canadian conductor, guest soloist and the country’s top young instrumentalists. Students from across Canada are united by their love of music, their desire to create a challenging concert program all within a positive atmosphere while creating lifelong friendships.

Wow, what an amazing opportunity for a deserving student!

Becca plays all percussion instruments including, Timpani, Drum kit, Xylophone, Snare, Bells, Cymbals and so much more. “She has the music in her heart and has worked so extremely hard for it all,” says mother Sheri who gives credit to her daughter's music teacher and mentors, all the while failing to acknowledge the parental support that is so vital in the development of an talented young musician.

Becca will also be joining the Festival Winds of Summer Music Camp that runs from July 18th to 22nd, in Saugeen Shores. I'll be one of the first in line for her next public concert.

A TREE GROWS IN DRESDEN

Note to me from Lynda Weese, co-ordinator, Dresden & District Horticultural Society, Memorial Tree planting program.

Re: American Linden or Basswood tree to be planted in memory of my parents Grace and Ken Wright, life-long residents of Dresden, Ontario.

THE WRIGHTS: Ken & Grace

"Dick, when I was researching Carolinian trees I learned that the basswood is a very strong, useful, wood. I remember your mother most for her strength in her convictions so thought this was a very suitable choice. Other things I learned were that the buds are edible and the bark peels easily to make excellent cordage..a very multi-use tree. 

"I know you like to read and the lore of this tree is most fascinating. Among one of many quotes  'It's presence protects against ill luck and against the strike of lightning, and it's bright nature repels those spirits that would cause harm to the household.' Google presents stories from the times of ancient Egypt.

"We have several in the arboretum that are about 20 years old. This will be the first to be planted in Markham Grove.

"Thank you Dick for your continued interest in your hometown."  

Story update: A memorial stone engraving (above) was placed at the base of the young tree following a planting ceremony, earlier this summer.

"AWESOME" OR NOT, SOME PASSING THOUGHTS ON THE REALITY OF SETTING GOALS IN OLD AGE

In a recent magazine cartoon, a mother peers over her teenager's shoulder. The teen is intently working at her laptop, apparently writing a school paper. In the caption, the mother suggests to her daughter, "You might want to keep your words-to-exclamation-points ratio higher than one to one."

I think we can all relate to that. Have you noticed how email messages and texts are so often prone to such excessive use of over-the-top emphasis?

It's hard to figure out exactly when the trend started, but in like fashion, the word "awesome," highjacked by popular culture, has undergone a radical change in meaning. Once reserved for the loftiest descriptions, the term has been dumbed down to a mere expression of approval -- nothing more than a thumbs up or smiley face.

Indeed, how often do we hear "awesome" in answer to questions like "how was your macaroni and cheese," or "what do you think of your new sneakers?" Let’s not forget that “awesome" was once a term reserved for something inducing awe, as its root tells us. It was a word used to describe an inspiring or overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, or fear.

Many church sermons this Lenten Sunday (April 10) will deal with the Passion story -- the "long" reading assigned for this Sunday consists of 114 verses. And maybe it should be highlighted, underscored, and bracketed with exclamation points in our bibles. And because it is a story that evokes an overwhelming feeling of reverence, we can sum it up in the margin of our bibles with the singular word: AWESOME.

Changing the subject just slightly...

Once, when he was 88 years old, the late U. S. Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes found himself alone on a train in a state of confusion. When the conductor came by, Justice Holmes couldn't find his ticket, and he seemed terribly upset. He searched all his pockets and fumbled through his wallet without success. The conductor was sympathetic. "Don't worry, Mr. Holmes," he said. "The Pennsylvania Railroad will be happy to trust you. After you reach your destination, you'll probably find the ticket, and you can mail it to us." But the conductor's kindness failed to put Mr. Holmes at ease.

“No, sir, that’s not the problem,” the Justice said. “The problem is that I can’t remember where I’m going.”

That's the problem with a lot of us (me included)...We don't know where we are going. Maybe we forgot about direction...Or maybe we are just tired, period.

Personally, with questionable results, I've set goals all my life but I have stopped worrying about it now because my time to get anywhere drastically declines with the passing of each increasingly precious day. My goal these days is just to make it through a 24-hour period. Tomorrow is tenuous, at best. You might say I've run out of goals and time and inclination to realize them.

Unfortunately I think there are a lot of of people who have been reduced to living their lives that way. They’ve been sold the ticket, but don’t know the destination. They are floating aimlessly on the sea of life, tossed to wherever the winds and waves take them. Staying afloat is a singular goal.

I know people who set goals, but don’t think about God. And I know people who serve God, but don’t think about goals. Do they really go together? Does it really matter?

I do acknowledge too that God has not put us on planet earth just to eat, drink and consume resources. We’re put here to make a difference by serving mankind, even if it is in a small way equal to our abilities in the twilight of our lives.

Just do your best my senior friends...Just do your best!...As most of you have always done, I'm pretty sure about that. Nothing wrong in resting a bit on your laurels, in spite of what you may hear in church or on line that may make you feel like a lesser person because nature has dictated that you ease up on certain aspects of your earlier life when you had the energetic wherewithal to set moralistic goals and follow up on them.

And when it comes down to it, we all know where we are going in the end. For some of us it won't take long to get there either.

Not an awesome pronouncement, but that too is reality.

BOWES PUBLISHING BROTHERS GOT THEIR START AT A SMALL DRESDEN, ONTARIO WEEKLY NEWSPAPER

An early edition of Dresden Times

When I helped my mother Grace fold newspapers in the cramped Brown Street storefront quarters of the hometown Dresden Times in 1949, little did we know that the Bowes brothers ownership team was poised to become a Canadian publishing giant. It is really a unique family success story.

In my memory, Bill Bowes was the family sparkplug in the early days of the newspaper in Dresden and older brother Jim was the guy making it happen behind the scene. Having breathed new life into their first-ever business venture, they were soon joined by younger brothers David and Howard.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves with this story.

The Bowes boys were born in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. Their father Harold served as principal of Moose Jaw Tech and taught French and German while their mother, Ruth, worked to raise a family of six children. The brothers' early years were touched by the same powerful forces that shaped many of their generation: the Great Depression, the pervasive effects of drought on the prairie landscape and the Second World War.

When the brothers were in or near their teens Harold went overseas to put his language skills to use monitoring enemy transmissions for the Allied Forces. Meanwhile, Ruth and the children moved to Ingersoll, Ontario to be closer to extended family. 

 William "Bill" Bowes

Bill completed his schooling and did whatever he could to earn some money, often taking on hard labour for little pay. With his father stationed in Europe and his elder brother Jim writing for the Canadian military newspaper The Maple Leaf, it wasn’t long before Bill heeded his own call to serve. He enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force and was shipped overseas as a navigator with 424 Squadron and flew from a base in England until discharged in 1946.

In addition to a commitment to military service, the Bowes family would certainly go on to enjoy a tradition of publishing. After the war, Jim returned to his work in Ontario as a journalist for the London Free Press and convinced Bill to join him in the profession. Bill set about learning the business aspects of publishing and familiarizing himself with print operations.

The Bowes Publishing chain had modest beginnings. In 1948, Bill and Jim had saved enough money to buy the small weekly newspaper in Dresden, one of two in town at the time (Dresden News being the other). Soon after, Bill heard two travelling salesmen remark that if they were younger, they’d invest in a weekly newspaper that was up for grabs in a small town called Grande Prairie, Alberta. 

The Bowes knew next to nothing about the Grande Prairie region but their curiosity had been piqued. They bought the Grande Prairie Herald Tribune in 1950 and Bill embarked on a journey that would lead him to great success as a business leader and central figure in the development of the growing community.

Meantime Howard, the youngest of the brothers, was left behind to wrap up and sell the business in Dresden, but not before he met and married a local girl, Marilyn Quick, a daughter of Orvil and Ada Quick. The newlyweds subsequently moved to Grande Prairie, and joined the other brothers and their families in the operation of the local Grande Prairie Herald Tribune.

Howard Bowes

In 1965, Howard and Marilyn moved to Leduc, Alberta and launched their own publishing company, Lynard Publishers Ltd., beginning with the purchase of the local newspaper, the Leduc Representative. Their business grew over the years to include weekly newspapers in seven communities in Alberta.

Bill, it seemed, was so busy developing the Bowes dynasty in those days that he had little time to think about getting married. But as fate would have it, from his office window, he would often see Margaret O’Brien on her way to work at a nearby car dealership and made a point of chatting with her whenever possible. They soon discovered that they were a perfect pair and were married in 1952. Over the years they welcomed four boys to their family. A devoted family man, Bill would often take time out from business and community commitments to coach his sons’ hockey and baseball teams and to support his boys in their various activities.

As the family grew so did the roster of newspapers under Bowes management. In time, the chain would expand to include over 100 weekly newspapers from Nova Scotia to the B.C. Interior. Bill would also contribute to the industry as president of the Alberta Weekly Newspaper Association and a director of the Canadian Weekly Newspaper Association. He began to add other business ventures to his publishing holdings, including retail, real estate and self-storage concerns. The Bowes family eventually sold the publishing chain to Sun Media in 1988.

Jim Bowes

Jim Bowes retired in 1988 but remained a Director of the company until 1990. The Toronto Sun became major shareholder with 60% ownership in 1988 then 98% in 1990. Jim passed away in March of 1997 of lung cancer.

In 2001 Sun Media Corporation consolidated its Bowes Publishing division (190 weeklies and community dailies) with those of its metropolitan dailies. Sun Media Corporation is a division of Quebecor Media Inc.

The energy and enthusiasm that Bill devoted to his businesses over the years was equalled by the commitment and generosity he invested in bettering his community. He served as a longstanding leader with a wide range of Grande Prairie organizations, including the Rotary Club, the Chamber of Commerce, the Industrial Development Commission, the local Music Festival Association, the Grande Prairie Regional College Foundation and the Alberta Colleges Commission. He helped to support the preservation of Peace Country history through contributions to the Grande Prairie Museum Regional Heritage Discovery Centre and was honoured for his military background through his longstanding membership in the Royal Canadian Legion and his work to preserve the local armoury as a centre for cadets and other community groups.

Bill also worked to ensure a healthier future for his fellow citizens. His contributions to health care included his service as South Peace chairman for the Provincial First Aid Community Training Program, as a member of the Queen Elizabeth II Hospital Foundation Board and as a generous donor to the hospital’s MRI facility.

Bill’s abilities as a consummate community organizer were particularly useful in his work as co-chairman of the 1995 Canada Winter Games Committee. Grande Prairie’s successful turn as host to the Games was due in no small part to the excellent work Bill and his team did to raise both funds and public enthusiasm for the event. In fact, they were so successful that Grande Prairie set a nation-wide precedent for Canada Games support and still had enough funds remaining to create a $1 million legacy that has been used to foster sports and community development for current and future generations of Peace Country residents. In addition, a significant financial contribution from Jim and Bill Bowes helped spur construction of the Bowes Family Crystal Gardens, a downtown multi-use facility that now forms part of the Canada Games Arena complex.

The tremendous dedication and reliability Bill Bowes demonstrated as a community leader led to numerous awards and honours, including Grande Prairie Citizen of the Year and “Down Towner” of the Year, the Paul Harris Fellowship from Rotary International, the Canada 125 Commemorative Medal and the Board of Governors’ Award of Distinction from Grande Prairie Regional College. He was a Member of the Venerable Order of St. John Ambulance, an Honorary Member of the Grande Prairie and District Chamber of Commerce and was awarded a Life Membership in the Royal Canadian Legion.

Bill passed away shortly after his induction into the Alberta Order of Excellence in 2009.

Marilyn Quick Bowes

Brother Howard of Leduc, died on June 23, 2018 at the age of 87, lovingly remembered by his wife of 64 years, Marilyn, and their three children. Marilyn would pass away a year later.

It is difficult to realize that I remember the hustling young Bowes brothers getting their publishing feet wet during a few short years at the helm of the old Dresden Times and that they were destined to amass a chain of more than one hundred weekly newspapers across Canada before they were finished.

Dresden's loss all those years ago would certainly prove to be Grande Prairies' gain.

A couple of young Dresden born and bred entrepreneurs, Clause and Misselbrook, who eventually took over the business in the 1970s, didn't do bad for themselves either, as it turned out. They became "The Leader" for news in the community for several decades!

The days of making money in the newspaper business are history, much like the fascinating story of the Bowes brothers.