HALLOWEEN 40 YEARS AGO

Can anyone identify these two before-and-after Halloween "trick or treaters" in 1968?

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Clue #1: They're sisters.

Clue #2: I'm their dad.

CHARACTER: YOUR BEST INVESTMENT

Capital for a lifetime...and beyond

CHARACTER, as defined in Webster's New World Dictionary: "a distinctive trait, quality or attribute; an individual's pattern of behavior or personality; moral constitution; moral strength; self-discipline, fortitude; reputation."

If I were asked today what is the most important investment that a young person can make as they enter adulthood and venture into the real world of making a living, I would have to say that character is capital that should be established early and invested in often. Character, regarded as capital, brings a much surer yield of returns than any other form of investment in life. It is unaffected by panics and failures, fruitful when all other investments lie dormant and has as much promise in the present life as in that which is to come.

Benjamin Franklin attributed his success in the public eye, not to his talents or his communications skills, but to his known integrity of character. "Hence, it was," he said, "that I had so much weight with my fellow citizens. I was but a bad speaker, never eloquent, subject to much hesitation in my choice of words, hardly correct in language, and yet I generally carried my point." There is no disputing that character creates confidence in every station of life and Franklin was a good example of that.

The higher walks of life are treacherous and dangerous; the lower ever full of obstacles and impediments. We can only be secure in either, by maintaining those principles which are just, praiseworthy and pure, and which inspire bravery in ourselves and confidence in others. When Stephen of Coloma fell into the hands of his base assailants, and they asked him, in derision, "Where is now your Fortress?" He boldly replied "here", placing his hand over his heart.

Strength of character, then, consists of two things -- power of will and power of self-restraint requiring for existence strong feelings and a strong command over them. Someone once said that deportment, honesty and a desire to do right carried out in practice, are to human character what truth, reverence and love are to religion, and I believe that to be true.

Oh sure, there are bound to be detractors and those who scoff at one's high standards of character, but it is not as much in their affected revulsion as it is in their wish to reduce them to the standards of their own degraded natures and vitiated passions.
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That character is power is true in a much higher sense than the contention that knowledge is power. Mind without heart, intelligence without conduct, cleverness without goodness, are powers in one sense, but they are detrimental powers that lead without exception to failure and undoing.

Yes indeed, young people, investing early and often in your character as defined in the dictionary, is not only wise but essential. It is capital that costs nothing to accumulate. It pays huge dividends throughout your life...And you can take it with you when you go.

Hold fast to your capital -- your investments in character and principles. The biggest mistake anyone could make would be to compromise their capital by cashing in even a small portion of it. The long-term cost implications are just too great.

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After completing the above post, I stumbled across some famous quotations on the importance of "character" that pretty much substantiate my thesis. Horace Greeley, a 19th century newspaper editor, once wrote: "Fame is a vapor, popularity an accident, riches take wing, and only character endures." Then in about the same time period Thomas Babington MacCaulay came up with this gem: "The measure of a man's character is what he would do if he knew he never would be found out."

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And back even further in ancient times the Greek philosophers were waxing eloquent on the merits of character. Heraclitus said: "A man's character is his fate" and ever the dramatist, Euripides proclaimed: "Character is a stamp of good repute on a person." But it was good old Aristotle who best summed it all up with: "Character is that which reveals moral purpose, exposing the class of things a person chooses and avoids. A good character carries with it the highest power of causing a thing to be believed."

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Our latest in The "Word" According to Rosanne...

Lifting her empty wine class she announced: "My drink has evacuated (evaporated)!"

Trying to be helpful in proof reading what I have written: "Dick, you are disposing (transposing) your letters."

CLEARING OFF THE DESK...

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...We're not guaranteed the future and the past is gone forever. Now is the only moment that exists, so make the most of it!

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Latest Rosanneisms:
-- "I'm having revelations (reservations) about going."
-- "This problem is exastrabating (exasperating) me."

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...Had a nice note this past week from another old Dresden acquaintance who had learned about my "The Dresden I Remember" site. Dargan Burns is a lifetime resident of Dresden and pretty much has his finger on the pulse of the community. Darg recalls working for the Dresden Times in the 1950s when my mother would come in on Wednesdays to help assemble and fold the paper for distribution. He spent the first half of his career in newspaper production but when he finally realized he could not continue to make a living in the business he wisely went back to school (Teachers College) and became a teacher. He has been retired for quite a few years and built a new home for he and Theresa in 2005. He's pretty handy with a hammer and saw.

ONE GOOD NICKNAME DESERVES ANOTHER

I sometimes get caught up in mind games that are a complete waste of time. Take the last 40 minutes for instance. I've been running nicknames through my mind, prompted I guess by a recent obsession with my hometown of Dresden, the nickname capital of the world, where virtually everyone has a moniker of some sort. The more I thought about these stupid nicknames, the more I realized that many of them can be linked in an odd sort of way.

For instance, for every Bull there is a Moose, every Lefty has a Righty, every Skunk is Stinky and Nip and Tuck are tailored for each other. See what I mean. Kind of catching isn't it?

Sparky and Flash just seem to go together naturally and Peewee and Tiny are virtual twins while on the other hand Skinny and Fatty are opposites. For a while I was really fixed on Hammer and Tools but Gunner and Shooter gave me the aim to pick up Sandy and Rocky in my sites and a Cutter being used to Hack a tree that was too Woody. My appetite for the exercise began to improve with Spud and Tater, then I had to go and spoil it all with Poop and Scoop.

I was really on a role with Wheels and Spinner and Boots and Kicker seemed to go together, especially if you're playing soccer. You simply can't have a King without a Queen nor Hands without Fingers. If you're Sleepy you're bound to be a little Dopey and every Digger needs a Spade. Baldy and Curly are at the opposite ends of the follicular spectrum but there's little difference between Smasher and Basher. I couldn't bite into Gummer until I found myself chewing with Toother.

I tried especially hard to keep it all in the family (Rodent, that is) with Mouse and Squirrel and I always kind of felt sorry for Wart and Hog. It is a Bummer when someone shoots the Bull but Grinny and Smiley always put me in a good mood and I would be remiss if I were to Skip old Hoppy.

Beans and Toots gave me just enough gas for a couple more but I had to Stretch to come up with Tippy and Toes, probably because I was about to bog down after Mud and Dirt. So, in conclusion, I pose this nagging question: "Is it true that every Buck is Horny?"

As silly as it is, these are all legitimate nicknames to which I can attach proper names and real faces. Now let's get on with more serious thinking -- like the state of the economy...On second thought, I'd rather stay with nicknames.

P.S.: This item is dedicated to two good friends, Brownie and Blackie.

NINE SETS OF TWINS PLAYED IN MAJORS

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Had a good chat with Jarvis Cook in Dresden about his 18-year-old identical twin nephews who are showing amazing promise in baseball. The boys were featured in my last post, see item below. Not wanting to jinx young Matt and Justin we, nevertheless, could not help but wonder just how many twins have actually made it all the way to the major leagues.
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At the time of our conversation, neither Jarv nor I could come up with any names -- it seems that we both have failing memories (memory being the second thing to go when you get to be our age).
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A follow up search of The Baseball Encyclopedia and the unique Twinstuff web site revealed that there have actually been nine sets of twins that have advanced to "The Big Time" of baseball. The first set was Bill and George Hunter who played from 1909 to 1912. George played two years for Brooklyn in 1909 and 1910 while Bill only played one season, in 1912 with Cleveland. The next three played roughly at the same time, in what might be termed "The Golden Era of Twins Baseball". They were Joe and Red Shannon, Bubber and Claude Jonnard and Ray and Roy Grimes.
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The Shannons were the first set of twins to play for the same team -- the Boston Braves in 1915. Joe only played that single season for Boston, but Red had a longer and more successful career playing an additional six seasons for four more teams. The Shannons were a position player/pitcher combination. Bubber, a catcher, made it to the bigs first, playing for Chicago Sox in 1820 and four teams total in a six-year career. Claude, the pitcher, was one of the more successful twins ever to play major league baseball and specialized as a relief pitcher in a six-year career that began with the New York Giants in 1921.

The Grimes both began their careers in 1920. Roy played one season for the Giants, but Ray fared a little better, playing a total of six seasons as a power-hitting first baseman. Coincidentally, Ray was a teammate of Bubber Jonnard with the Philadelphia Phillies, marking the only time in MLB history that two different sets of twins played together on the same team.
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Thirty years later, we see perhaps the most famous set of baseball-playing twins, Eddie and Johnny O'Brien. The O'Briens are well known because they played most of their careers together in Pittsburgh and also because of their versatility as utility players. Both began their careers in 1953 and played through to 1959.
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Skipping ahead yet another generation, there are two more sets of twins who had brief careers in the 1980s, Marshall and Mike Edwards and Stan and Stew Cliburn. Mike had a couple of successful seasons with Oakland, but made it to the big leagues first with Pittsburg in 1977, moving over to the As the next season. Marshall, like his brother, was more of a speedster, playing three mostly unspectacular seasons with Milwaukee from 1981 to 1983. They also had a younger brother, Dave, who played five seasons in the majors. The Cliburns played for the California Angels, Stan as a first baseman for one season in 1980 and Stew as a pitcher for three seasons.
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The next twin pairing was the controversial super star Jose Canseco and his lesser-known brother Ozzie. Jose played 17 well-pubicized seasons in the majors for seven different teams, all in the American Leauge. He retired following the 2001 season with 462 career home runs, 22nd on the all-time list of home run hitters. Ozzie made it to the big leauges for three brief periods -- in 1990 with Oakland As where he played with his bother, and in '92 and '93 with St. Louis Cardinals. There might have been an excuse for the others, but how could we possibly forget the Cansecos?
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The newest set of twins on the list are Damon and Ryan Minor. The Minors were mirror-image twins, both standing 6'7", and were outstanding basketball prospects as well as baseball players. Damon, a first baseman, played for the San Francisco Giants, 2000-2004, and Ryan played for Baltimore Orioles, 1998-2000, before ending his career with Montreal Expos in 2001. Ryan will be forever known as the man who replaced Cal Ripken in the lineup at 3rd base for the Orioles when Ripken's consecutive game streak of 2,632 ended during the 1999 season.

How's that for a bit of baseball trivia?

COOK BROTHERS HAVE FANS, COACHES SEEING DOUBLE

It's in the genes for gifted Dresden twins

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Matt Cook (left) and Justin Cook (right), 18, are stars of the Windsor Midget Selects, provincial and state baseball champions. They are the sons of Robin and Lori Cook of Dresden and grandsons of the late Gerald "Elmer" Cook, a one time Dresden baseball standout. In a new insert to my "The Dresden I Remember" site I mention Elmer (also known affectionately as Cookie) and two other senior players who paid special attention to me when I was an admiring kid hanging around the baseball diamond in Dresden. Matt and Justin's uncle Jarvis Cook, himself a pretty fair baseball player in his day, is also a life-long friend of mine. Us Dresden guys have to stick together, especially when we have something like the talent of Justin and Matt to celebrate.

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The six-foot-two, 200 lb. twins attend my old Alma mater, Lambton Kent District High School in Dresden, and are literally head and shoulders above most fellow students, including in their athletic and academic standing as well. It is on the baseball field, however, that they have earned rave reviews this past summer, leading the Windsor Midget Selects to an amazing 53-10-1 record in national and international competition.

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Justin and Matt, not too surprisingly like their grandfather, are pitchers, each recording 11 wins this season and posting earned run averages well below 2.00. They also carry potent bats and lofty batting averages. In 162 at bats, Justin finished with a .370 batting average while Matt hit the ball at a respectable .304 clip in 168 at bats.

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When it was not their turn in the pitching rotation, manager Richard Soloman had a ready spot for the boys in his regular lineup -- Justin at third base and Matt at first base. Matt pitched a five-hitter in the Selects' 5-1 victory over Toronto Mets in the final game of the Ontario Baseball Association "AAA" Midget Championship tournament and Justin emerged as the top hitter in the six-game series with a .471 average at the plate.

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Adding further laurels to their outstanding season, the Selects went undefeated (5-0) in the highly touted State Championships at Eastern Michigan University, crushing Michigan Renegades 9-4 in the final game.

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The Selects organization, in drawing top midget age players from Windsor, Tecumseh, Chatham and Dresden, provides a wonderful opportunity for elite 18-and-under athletes in the area to try out for a program that provides professional quality training, coaching and competition that is not available in smaller communities.

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As if the baseball honors were not enough, the talented twins also laid claim to just about every high school award worth claiming during the last school term, topped off by the LKDHS Most Outstanding Male Athlete '08 award for Justin who was also MVP captain of the senior boys basketball and volleyball teams, and the Coach's Choice Award '08 for Matt. Both honor role students, Matt was a Silver Award winner and recipient of the Allsion DeBruyne Memorial Award while Justin received a Bronze Medal.

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Wisely, the boys are back at high school this Fall picking up a few extra credits. They intend to put priority on their educations and will wait to see what options develop for them in the next few years.

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Meantime, this is an amazing story and it stands to get even more amazing as the boys develop and follow their destinies.

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Somehow or other, I have a feeling that we'll be hearing a lot more about the Cook twins of Dresden in the not too distant future. The Major Leagues beckon...Can you imagine the media in the states jumping all over this one? You read it here first, however!

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Grandpa Gerald would be proud. I know uncle Jarv sure as heck is.

A WORLD WITHOUT IMMORTALITY

Equals a world in total chaos

I want to play devil's advocate on the subject of everlasting spirit for just a moment.

If we truly perish with the body and there is no such thing as immortality, then our whole system of laws, manners and usages on which society is founded, is nothing more than an impostor. The maxims of charity, patience, justice, honor, gratitude and friendship, which sages have taught over the centuries and which we ourselves practice, would be nothing but empty words possessing no real and binding efficacy. Why then would we heed them?

And if we were to dismiss the notion of eternal life, what would become of tender family ties -- wife, husband, parent, sister, brother or friend? How absurd it would be to honor that which has no existence. How frivolous it would be to concern ourselves for those whose end, like our own, must soon be annihilation.

In truth, however, if we were to accept the sway of reason eternally espoused by nonbelievers the whole world, as we know it, would fall back into a frightful chaos:
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• all the relations of life would be confounded;
• all the ideas of vice and virtue would reverse;
• the most inviolable laws of society would vanish;
• all moral discipline would perish;
• the government of nations would no longer have the cement to hold them together;
• harmony of the body politic would become discord;
• the human race would be no more than an assemblage of barbarians.

Such would be the world if belief in God and immortality were to die out of the human heart.

The external life of mankind is the creature of time and circumstance, and passes away, but the internal abides and continues to exist. Spirit triumphs over form. That is the basis of everything we hold sacred and everything that makes the world what it is today.

Just a few passing thoughts...Need I write more?

I'M GIVING THANKS FOR YOU!

Site brings back memories and friends

As I pause to consider the things that I am thankful for this weekend I will be adding a new item to the list -- you, the reader of Wrights Lane and its associated sites.

In the three short months that I have been producing this blog there have been more than 400 views, or hits, on my profile alone. Profile views are generally of a one-time nature. Repeat viewers generally bypass the profile because if you've seen it once there is no need to see it again. So you can multiply those 400-plus profile views at least four or five times to get a feeling for current overall viewership, far beyond my fondest expectations.

Particularly gratifying has been reconnecting with old friends in my hometown of Dresden through the Father and Son Turn Back the Clock and Championship Baseball sites. Linda Weese helped get the ball rolling by linking me with her http://www.dresden.ca/ site. Since then I have had direct contact with Donna and Terry Martin, Donna and Keith Babcock, Jarvis Cook and Betty Smith, all of Dresden. Ida Strong of St. Thomas, a former Dresden resident, was one of the first to respond and eventually contributed photographs of her great grandfather's blacksmith shop for Dresden reflections. Bob Peters, way out in British Columbia, is a regular viewer and has passed the site on to other former Dresdenites in B.C. -- Jim Bresett and Homer Smith. Bob's mother in Chatham, hale and hearty at 97-years-of-age, amazingly keeps up to date with us via her computer.

I reconnected recently with old school chum Jim Ruttle of Lambeth and his wife Isabel over lunch in Goderich and have ongoing contact Bruce Huff in London (he of the Sports Hall of Fame) and Danny Burns of Mississauga, a recent contributor to Wrights Lane.

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So it is for the aforementioned folks, other friends and site followers, and members of my family that I will be giving special thanks.

Thanksgiving traditions sadly missed

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On the subject of Thanksgiving, I feel that it is a shame that this occasion originally intended to give special recognition of all we receive, has been diminished by the changing social fabric in Canada. Traditional Thanksgiving observances and prayers have been rendered almost irrelevant for many families. We've let it happen. There is no one else to blame. We should not lose tradition this easily. Let's try to revive some of it.

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Allow me to take liberties with the words of Edgar A. Guest in recalling the way it used to be, and still should be for us today.

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It may be I am getting old and like too much to dwell

Upon the days of bygone years, the days I loved so well;

But thinking of them now I wish somehow that I could know

A simple old Thanksgiving Day, like those of long ago,

When all the family gathered round a table richly spread,

The youngest of us all to greet the oldest with a smile,

With mother running in and out and laughing all the while.

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It may be I'm old-fashioned, but it seems to me today

We're too much bent on having fun to take the time to pray;

Each little family grows up with fashions of its own;

It lives within a world itself and wants to be alone.

It has its special pleasures, its circle, too, of friends;

There are no get-together days; each one his journey wends,

Pursuing what he likes the best in his particular way,

Letting others do the same upon Thanksgiving Day.

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I like the olden way the best, when relatives were glad

To meet the way they used to do when I was but a lad;

The old home was a rendezvous for all our kith and kin,

And whether living far or near they all came trooping in.

Gathering round the fireside, how fast the hours would fly--

Seemed before we'd settled down 'twas time to say good-bye.

Those were glad Thanksgivings, the old-time families knew

When relatives could still be friends and all our hearts were true.

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May you share some of that with your loved ones this weekend.

THE "WORD" ACCORDING TO ROSANNE

...She's in an league by herself

A couple of items ago I introduced a new "feature" for this site -- The Word According to Rosanne. I referred to my wife Rosanne as being a serious female Norm Crosby, the King of Malaprop.

Norm, of course, is famous for the use of twisted phrases in his comedy act. His version of "He had panache", for instance, came out as "He had pistachio." He often talked about drinking "decapitated" coffee. Now compare that to the Rosanneisms listed two items down and you will see what I mean. Before giving you the benefit of a few more of Rosanne's latest classic utterances, I think it behooves me to explain a little about the unfamiliar term "malapropism".

A malapropism (from French mal propos) is an incorrect usage of a word, usually with comic effect. The word comes from the name Mrs. Malaprop, a character in Richard Brinsley Sheridan's comedy, The Rivals (1775), whose name was in turn derived from the existing English word malapropos which means
"inappropriately". Here are some examples from Mrs. Malaprop's dialogue:

-- "He's as headstrong as an allegory (alligator) on the banks of the Nile.
-- "He is the very pineapple (pinnacle) of politeness."
-- "If I reprehend (apprehend) anything in this world, it is the use of my oracular (vernacular) tongue, and a nice derangement (arrangement) of epitaphs (epithets).

Several prominent knowledge bases. however, suggest that it might be more appropriate to call such confusions "Dogberryisms" after Sergeant Dogberry in William Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing, who was making them almost two centuries earlier, for example:

-- "Companions are odorous (odious)."
-- "Our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended (apprehended) two auspicious (suspicious) persons."

Now back to our favorite Rosanneisms.

-- The other day she she referred to a situation as being "disconcerning". She meant disconcerting -- of course.
-- "I can't stand concentration." In this instance she was responding to something that had upset her and it was "consternation" that she was experiencing.
-- "The layout of that house is kind of foreboding." I thought "here comes another good one" and asked "what do you mean by foreboding?" "I don't know," she said. "It's like, eerie and claustrophobic." Pretty close on that one sweetheart. However, it may not qualify as a true Rosanneism.
-- On the need to purchase Kleenex. "We've exhorted (exhausted) our supply."
-- "Are you going to have your soul food (seafood) tonight?" quickly recognizing her malapropism by asking: "What's it called?"
-- "The only player that I know on the Maple Leafs this year is Joseph Curtis." Meaning veteran goaltender Curtis Joseph.

I'll let you saviour those few for now. Lots more to follow.

I don't know, but I'll stack Rosanne up against Norm Crosby, Mrs. Malaprop and Sergeant Dogberry any day of the week. Ya gotta love her!

LITTLE THINGS, BIG REALITY

Trifles worthy of a little study

I have always been fascinated by the value of small or little things in life and hold to the conviction that "small things mean a lot". It is interesting how small things can have huge impacts. Also, can you truthfully think of anything that is not made up of small parts?

Think of the "parts" in our bodies for instance, and coral rock that is the work of tiny insects; the number of peas in a peck; the number of pennies in a dollar; stars in the universe; rain drops in a storm; grains of sand on a beach; blades of grass in a lawn; notes in a song; words in a book; people in a crowd -- we could go on forever. If you really want to blow your mind, just start thinking in terms of molecules and atoms.

Little things, too, can affect us physically like the tiny nerve of a tooth that can sometimes drive us to distraction or any one of thousands of microscopic germs that can make us deathly ill. Think of the poor elephant that is driven absolutely mad by a tiny speck of a mosquito.

Moments are the golden sands of time. Every day is a little life and our whole life is but a day repeated. A word, a look, a frown are all little things, but they can have powerful impact for good and evil.

There is no denying that little acts are the elements of true greatness. They raise life's value, like little figures over the larger ones in arithmetic, to its higher power. Small things in youth accumulate into character in age and destiny in eternity. A novelist who writes a book must do it sentence by sentence. A student of science must master it fact by fact and principle by principle.

Happiness in life is made up of little courtesies, little kindnesses, pleasant words, genial smiles, self-assuring touches, hugs, good wishes and good deeds, acts of charity. It is by studying small things that we attain the great art of having as little misery and as much happiness as possible in journying through life.

It is the little things that, in aggregate, make up the whole of whatever is great. That is what fascinates me so much because little things are all I have to offer the world, and maybe that is not so bad after all.

DANCING IN THE RAIN

"Remembering" a special someone

Some time ago I invited readers of Wrights Lane to pass along items of interest or messages that had particular meaning for them. An old friend, Danny Burns of Mississauga, recently did just that. Danny's forward was in the form of a brief "thought piece" sent to him by another friend who had been so moved as to give it further circulation. The touching message was obviously written by a hospital emergency ward nurse with the caveat: "Life isn't about how to survive the storm, but how to dance in the rain." Her story follows.

"It was a busy morning, about 8:30, when an elderly gentleman in his 80s arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He said he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 o'clock.

"I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before a doctor would be able to see him. I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound. On exam, his thumb was well healed, so I talked to one of the duty doctors, got the needed supplies to remove the sutures and redress the wound.

"As I was taking care of him, I asked if he had another doctor's appointment that morning, as he was obviously in a hurry. He told me "no", but that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife. I inquired as to her health.

"He told me that she had been in the nursing home for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's Disease. As we talked further, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late and he replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in the past five years.

"I was surprised and asked "...And you still go every morning even though she doesn't know who you are?" He smiled and as he patted my hand he replied: "She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is."

"I had to hold back tears as he left. I had goose bumps on my arm and thought 'That is the kind of love I want in my life.'

"True love is neither physical nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be."

THE "WORD" ACCORDING TO ROSANNE

Ordering: A trilogy sandwich
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I am introducing a new periodic feature for this site today: The "Word" According to Rosanne. I may end up paying a heavy price, but I simply cannot resist sharing with readers what I have come to call "Rosanneisms".

My wife Rosanne is a female Bill Crosby (King of comedic malaprop), only she does not intentionally try to be funny with her word twists. She is extremely self expressive, spontaneous and serious about what she says. It's just that the words do not always come out right and even she is at a loss sometimes to know why, i.e. she loves "custody" (custard) tarts.

She keeps me in stitches and I tread a very fine line in offering corrections because she is priceless and I do not want to make her self-conscious, and in the process spoil her.
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I should have had the foresight to make a list of some of the hilarious things she has said over the years and it was only yesterday that I finally started to document some of them. Here are a few Rosanneisms in the last 24 hours.

"We never open our moon roof." A reference to the fact that we never open the sun roof on our car. In correcting her I pointed out that "it's a sun roof and that's as different as night and day." Sometimes my responses are pretty good too.

"He's an excellent sneaker." Commenting on a baseball player who is a good base stealer.

"I'd like a mad cow." A request for her favorite drink -- a mudslide.

"I've got a perpendicular problem." A self diagnosis of some stomach discomfort she was experiencing.

"OK, I want the whole trilogy." Her enthusiastic response to my suggestion that I might make her a club sandwich for lunch. "Whole trilogy," I asked? "Yes, you know -- bacon, turkey and cheddar cheese" was the matter-of-fact explanation. It took a moment, but that one actually made sense.

Come to think about it, with trilogy sandwiches, custody tarts and mad cows, it is no wonder that she has a perpendicular problem.

Anyway, stay tuned. There'll be lots more.

FAMILY BACKGROUND IN I.O.D.E.

Mothers, daughters carried the tradition for 100 years

The Catherine McVean Chapter of the Imperial Order Daughters of the Empire has played a prominent role in the life of my hometown, Dresden, for the past 100 years. In the photo to the left, IODE members are front and centre for the Remembrance Day service, November 11, 1956. My mother Grace can be seen standing to the left of the kilted honor guard in the centre of the photo. The pin in the photo below belonged to my grandmother Harriet Perry who was a member of the organization from 1914 to 1940. At right, Catherine McVean Chapter President Sandra Thompson signs a Certificate of Appreciation in Recognition of Outstanding Support which was presented to my mother, January 28, 1993, along with a special pin signifying her 60 years of membership. My cousin Norma Johnston served as Municipal Regent of the IODE in the 1970s and her mother Harriet Sharp (my Aunt) was also a lifetime member.

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A new entry to my Dresden: Father and Son Turn Back the Clock site references the IODE placing crosses at the entrance to the Dresden Cemetery in 1925 and again in 1946 in memory of local boys who paid the supreme sacrifice in two world wars. The feature includes photos, one of which shows a neighbor lad, Roy Dusten, holding me as an infant a year or two before he was killed over Germany as a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force.

I mention "war" a lot in my reflections because it was the era in which I grew up and, regardless of our generation, we should not "forget" the reason we enjoy freedom in our society today.

But, back to the IODE which was founded in 1900 by a Margaret Polson Murray of Montreal, who envisioned an organization of women devoted to encouraging imperialism. Beginning with an educational mandate promoting Britain and British institutions through schools, it became actively involved in both world wars by supporting Canada's effort on behalf of Britain and its allies. IODE chapters are now made up of women from many walks of life with a common interest in volunteering their time to improve the quality of life for children, youth and those in need, through educational, social service and citizenship programs.

Although membership has declined, IODE still has 8,000 members in 400 chapters, raising $2 million in 2007 for equipment, furnishings, hospitals, nursing homes, crisis centres, women's shelters and homes for youth. Close to another $million went to scholarships and bursaries across Canada last year.

Long live members of the IODE and the wonderful work that they do. I am honored to have had firsthand exposure to these benevolent, strong women of action.

HOW OLD DO I FEEL?

...Don't get me started on the subject!

Some wise guy once said: "You're only as old as you feel". I mean, duuuuuuh. Thanks a lot!
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For some unknown reason Leonard Cohen's "My friends are gone my hair is grey, I ache in places where I used to play..." resonates deep within me as I start this piece. It is no doubt one of my mood flavors of the day. Hopefully, this too shall pass, but let's have some fun with it while it lasts.
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--I was recently reminded of a girl, one year older than me, on whom I had a major crush when I was about 15 or 16. Of course when you are a teenager, one year can make a big difference. Conventional wisdom told me that she was "too old" to be interested in me. Funny thing, now I would be "too old" for her, if you know what I mean. The reality of that cruel life reversal bugs the heck out of me.

--They say that, like old wine, you only improve with age. Tell that to my wife.

--I feel pretty much as good as I used to...It only hurts when I attempt to do something.

--Why is it that I can remember things that happened 60 years ago but I can't remember things that happened six minutes ago?

--I used to get by on two or three hours of sleep a night, now that's a nap.

--"What, me go there and have some old fogey come up and ask me to dance?" A terse comment by my then 85-year-old mother when encouraged to attend some social dances put on by the local Senior Citizens Club. I should have bottled some of that Dresden water she was drinking back then. I could sure use some about now.

--Why is it that I can't stop thinking about old friends as they used to be, rather than the way they are now?
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--Why is it that most of my friends are looking old when I have hardly changed a bit?
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--Why is it that when I think of my parents they are always about 30 years younger than my current age?

--Why is it that my arms seem to be getting shorter.
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--Why is it that I'll walk a mile to avoid going up stairs.

--Why is it they don't make men's sizes in belts and trousers any more.

--Why is it that everybody on the road seems to be driving faster than me, yet a certain passenger seat driver constantly reminds me to "slow down"?

--Why is it that in the world of antiques, things that are worn, tattered and faded are sought out and coveted yet in the world of human beings, nursing homes have so few visitors?

--I used to pride myself in being the second coming of Sir Walter Raleigh. Why is it that young women now insist on opening doors for me and carrying my parcels? Why is it that I gladly let them do it?

--I empathize with the television commercial for a well-known bank that features two old codgers sitting on a downtown bench. Looking at people coming in and out of a bank branch, one complains to the other: "What's wrong with the way it used to be? You'd get to the bank -- and it was closed!"
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You're only as old as you feel? Give me a break. Why try to kid anyone? I'll settle for feeling as old as I am. When I woke up this morning I was still breathing. I was surrounded by love. My dog gave me a lick and then rolled over for her customary belly rub. The sun was shining. I had several exciting projects to complete, one of them was called "life".

My cup runneth over. Any more and it would be a waste. I enjoy what I have (left).

Anyway, gotta go now. Geritol and a nap await, which ever comes first.

KEN'S TESTIMONY LIVES ON

...in a letter that spoke volumes

I think I know just about everyone who reads Wrights Lane and for that reason I have not hesitated to bare my soul on several occasions since launching the site. It is good for a writer to feel comfortable in that way.

Today is a different story, however. I have been weighing the wisdom of sharing some very personal, heartfelt and intimate thoughts expressed by my father in a letter to my mother on the eve of their 10th wedding anniversary, May 6, 1943. The letter runs the gamut of emotions -- loneliness, love, sadness, satisfaction, faithfulness, commitment and, in the end, living testimony. It is a reflection of a 43-year-old man of deep faith and conviction. It is not often that you get this type of inside look at a person.

I teased readers of my "Dresden site" with a very superficial reference to the letter and my dad's wishes for the type of life he hoped I would lead. I also explained that the letter was framed in a time of war (World War Two) and that, due to gasoline rationing, he was only able to make the 18-mile commute from Dresden to his place of business in Chatham once a week, generally on weekends. The week-long absences from home weighed heavily on him, but it was just one of a number of sacrifices Canadians had to make in those difficult post Depression times when resources of the country went almost entirely to the war effort.

As I write this introduction, I am still not sure about reproducing the letter in detail. Is this what my father would have wanted? What is to be gained? Does anyone really care? In all likelihood I will never know the answers to those questions, not even after I click the site's "publish" button.

For now, here goes! If nothing else, through this fascinating read, you will get to know my dad a little better and maybe even understand a bit more about his son. With any luck, after all is said and done, it will make your heart feel good, as it does mine.

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Chatham, Ont.

Monday, May 3rd/43

My Dear Grace:

The nearness of May 6th possibly justifies this letter.

You see, a person is at times apt to feel just a bit lonely under these circumstances and yet, too, there are a number of things I find very comforting. The fact that you and Dick are well and fairly comfortable is a source of downright pleasure to me.

I often think back to the time we were on the *"Terrace". I can see myself working on a customer and hearing you sick in the back. I could hardly get the customer out quick enough to get back there, even though I did no good. I also well remember the night you went to the hospital and the night we brought old Dick back to the "Terrace" for the first time. I remember his cowlick, how pale he was when we finally moved out of the dark, dingy apartment, and how unaccustomed he was to so much light for a while.

I remember too the renovating we had to do to our house in evenings when no one was around. Of course there was unpleasantness along the way at various intervals and the memory of how close we came to going under financially still lingers. I could do very little to turn things around and was getting no where. I was afraid.

Grace, I prayed hard for God to make our little business a success and to show me the way. I have continued to do so ever since. We are not millionaires but God did hear my prayers. We did not go under.

I also prayed to have you when I was 18 years old. And I prayed that my mother would live long at that time. She was so sick. I prayed that in the end I would be with her. She was spared to me a few years longer and I was with her when she passed away.

I prayed for you and Dick and for our home and family life. In spite of rather unique circumstances, we hang on and keep together. All my prayers have been answered so far but I still need the help that only God can give. Help me to continue to pray Grace.

Your mother called me into her room just before she passed away and hung on to my hand and asked me to pray for her release. She was a Christian and knew what she wanted, and I did as she requested. Return the favor Grace. Pray that I might be allowed to keep our home together and never bring shame or sorrow on you and Dick. Pray also for my faithful workers at the shop, that we may render the best of service and continue to give good value for people's money...Only through the grace of God can any of this happen.

"Without me ye can do nothing."**

I prefer staying here at nights because I am among so many familiar things -- your davenport and chair and mirrors, Dick's picture, etc. I have been blessed with some good help too, so you see my prayers have been answered. God gave me you and all these wonderful people to help me.

I realize that this is a small business compared to many but it is paying now only through the mercy of God. Quietly and when you are alone, thank Him for that, Grace.

Keep this letter for Dick. Actually it is a testimony of my life from the time I was 18 years of age. Every word is the truth and as I have actually lived from that date. Positive proof that God does answer our prayers. "Ask and it shall be given unto you, seek and ye shall find."**

I am going to ask that you do not refer to this letter when you see me. Some times I am not quite up to much, shall I say "sentiment"...You know, such times as one is sort of full inside and apt to break down. Just let's live on together and pray for me and teach Dick to pray for us both, and himself, as he goes through life. This letter, when he reaches an age to understand, shall serve as my testimony that that is the way to live.

You know all too well the facts and events that I mention here and can verify what I have said.

All my love to you both this tenth year, our anniversary, May 6th coming.

--Ken

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* Terrace-- the small second-floor aparment, adjacent to their business, that Ken and Grace lived in at the time.

** Biblical references.

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FOOTNOTE: Ken sold (gave away?) his business in Chatham two years later and returned to barbering in Dresden where it all started. He went to join his mother in his 53rd year. He continued praying to the end.

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CABINET BRINGS NEAR PERFECT MARK

Becky tops her class

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"It's my blog and I'll gloat if I want to. You would too if it happened to you!"
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It's not often that a grandfather gets to boast about a granddaughter making top marks in her "shop" class at school. So I'm taking full advantage of bragging rights.

This past school year my 16-year-old granddaughter Becky scored a mark of 98 for the pine cabinet she made in her construction technology class. The almost perfect grade topped the class of primarily boys even though she had two marks deducted on a technicality -- she forgot to sand her name off the bottom of the cabinet, of all things.

She said that her biggest challenge in making the cabinet was "having everything fit together properly." Now that she has had a taste of wood working, she did not hesitate to return to the course again this fall. Last year she was one of four girls in the class, this year she is the lone female and she doesn't seem to mind a bit, according to her mom.

The "best of class" cabinet was a gift this summer to her grandfather Koch, himself an Austrian trained master wood craftsman. Her dad, too, is gifted in the craft so it would seem that Becky comes by her new-found talent naturally. During the summer holidays, she tried her hand at restoration work, the porch bench she is shown sitting on (above photograph) was one of her projects.

Keep up the good work Beck. Always follow your heart and your instincts. There is no limit to what women can accomplish today.

I'm serving notice, however, to my two grandsons Ryan and Josh. Don't you guys dare come home from school with top marks in home economics. There's a limit to what makes a Poppa proud.

WHO'S GAME PLAN ARE YOU FOLLOWING?

"Run" the plays, don't "call" them

It is not my intention to sit at the computer keyboard and attempt to ram anything down people's throats. My motivation is merely to offer food for thought...Something to ponder in our hectic lives as we struggle to move ahead, or simply try to maintain a foothold in the ground that we have already managed to gain over the years.

I am of the firm belief that a uniquely designed "game plan" was in place for each one of us before we were born. I do not think that we are just dumped into this world and expected to sink or swim all on our own. How cruel would that be?

A fellow by the name of Steve May has an interesting slant on the point I am trying to make when he says: "The problem is that sometimes we think we're Peyton Manning." Peyton was unusual among football quarterbacks because he was one of the few allowed to call his own plays. Most quarterbacks in the NFL and CFL get their plays from the sidelines, their job being not to call the plays but to run them.
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Really, it's the same way with us. The key to a successful life is not figuring out what we do best and maximizing our talents. The key to success is also not in finding out what we enjoy doing the most and learning how to make a living at it, although that is a popular misconception. The real key to success and ultimate satisfaction is discovering God's game plan for our lives and following it.
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Our decisions should not be the result of weighing options as we would when visiting various booths on career day. We need to learn to see ourselves as players on a team, with our Heavenly Creator calling the plays. The crucial difference for us in following God's game plan is that His plan is something we discover, not something we decide.
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Whether we are just starting out in life or entering the twilight, when we make decisions about our future, we should let those decisions be driven by the question: "God, what do you want me to do? What is your plan for me? If you call the plays, I will run them."
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If we listen, we will always be given as much direction as we need to turn our life into one long championship season. It takes the pressure off the quarterback when his plays are called for him.

Reflections of a small town character

Every town has its collection of characters, colorful and otherwise. See my Reflections of Dresden site http://dicktheblogster3.blogspot.com/ today where I have included an insert piece on one of those characters. Dave McCracken had one of the most vivid and creative imaginations of anyone I have ever known. "Dresden's greatest foul ball chaser" is an item written with respect and fondness about a fellow who lived in a very happy fantasy world where, more often than not, he was a hero in his own mind. Just another in an ongoing series of interesting people I have known. F.Y.I.

OVERCOMING SHYNESS TAKES PRACTICE

...but in the end it is worth the effort

I have not done many things in life warranting an outward display of satisfaction and pride. But after some serious reflection and consideration, I can truly say that I am extremely proud of myself for overcoming a debilitating affliction -- shyness. In fact, I have really come a long, long way. And you know what, it only took me about 60 years of conscious effort, and a lot of maturity to bring about this emotional change. Nature may have played a role too as it took its course through various awkward periods in my life.

I mention this now, particularly for the benefit of young people, because I know there is potential for shyness at a certain stage of personal development. I learned from firsthand experience that the danger of shyness is that it can often be mistaken for standoffishness or simply seen as unfriendliness, and this is indeed unfortunate. In my experience, shy people are very sensitive because of their listening skills and they are especially caring toward others.

An interesting Kidshealth article accurately describes shyness as "an emotion that affects how a person feels and behaves around others." Take it from me, shyness can mean feeling uncomfortable, self-conscious, nervous, bashful, timid or insecure. When a person feels shy, they might hesitate to say or do something because they feel unsure of themselves and they are not prepared to be noticed.

Experts have said that shyness is partly the result of genes and partly influenced by behaviors learned -- the way people have reacted to their shyness and the experiences they have had in life. In my case, I think that I was born shy. When I was about four years of age, I used to play outside waiting for morning milk and bread deliveries. One day the milk man hesitatingly said to my mother as he made his weekly collection: "It's too bad about your son, Mrs. Wright!" Taken aback, my mother asked why he would say such a thing. "Well, isn't he deaf and dumb?" was the shocking response.

It seems the milk man would always stop to speak to me but I never answered...Never even gave indication that I had heard him. So he just assumed that I could neither hear nor speak.

As I grew older my shyness grew more painful. I would avoid eye contact, even pretend to not see people rather than have to speak to them. I felt bad about this. I wanted to be outgoing and friendly, but I just did not know how. Saying hello seemed excruciatingly difficult for me and I would even go so far as to practice saying things like "hello", "hi", "how are you?" with different expression and emphasis, but nothing seemed to come naturally.

There were times during social occasions when I would feel alone in a crowd. I would hesitate to try new things, preferring instead to watch others before joining in on a group activity. The world's greatest wall flower, it took me for ever to ask a girl to dance, even longer to go out on dates. My shyness, or backwardness, was so upsetting and frustrating for me as a teenager that many times I would just close myself in my bedroom and cry.

And on that note, a word of caution here for those who are close to a shy young person. If you push, tease or bully that person into a situation they are not prepared for, you can make them even more shy. Likewise, if parents are overly cautious or overprotective, it can teach the child to back away from situations that might be uncomfortable or unfamiliar. Understanding, love and support are what a shy youngster needs most. Confidence boosting and the occasional pat on the back will also work wonders.

In sports I was confident, aggressive and competitive but it took years for me to realize I could carry all of that into other areas of my life, if I wanted to.

One of the best things for me was getting a job in a retail store where I was forced to approach customers and to wait on them. Even then, for the better part of eight years, I died a thousand deaths with each customer that came in the store. Eventually, I became a newspaper reporter and there I was again having to take my communications to another level -- digging for information, asking probing questions, gaining the confidence of others.

Strangely enough, I always enjoyed theatre and public speaking and through these interests I developed an ability to step outside of myself, to become someone else when I had to. The natural next step was to gain the internal confidence necessary to step out of my comfort zone when the opportunity presented itself. Like a lot of things in life, the more "stepping out" you do the more comfortable you become and before long you do not give it a second thought.
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But as I have said before, I'm a slow learner. It took me until mid life to understand that practice truly does make perfect. Some of us, sad to say, have to practice social skills like assertiveness, conversation and friendly, confident body language, so that we can get the enjoyment from everyday experiences that we so longingly seek.

By the time I answered a call to take on church lay preaching assignments a few years ago, I did so with utmost confidence, free of self doubts and full of commitment. Stomach butterflies aside, I looked forward to each Sunday engagement and derived a great deal of satisfaction from the experience. So I am living proof that you can overcome shyness. It takes time, patience, courage and practice, but it is worth the hard work.

I am even going out of my way to talk to strangers now (the topic of a previous post), and if that isn't coming a long way, I don't know what is. Proud? Damn right I am!

The only pain I feel today is of a physical nature and I'm doing my best to deal with that too.

HUFFER: THE ULTIMATE "SPORTS" MAN

Bruce Huff (left) as a member of the Dresden Legionnaires, 1953 Ontario Juvenile champions, and (right) as he is today, about to be inducted into the London, Ont. Sports Hall of Fame.

My old friend and one-time baseball battery mate, Bruce Huff, is about to be honored for his lifelong dedication to sports. In November he will be inducted into the prestigious London Sports Hall of Fame in recognition of his contribution as a modern era sports "builder and founder" in the Forest City.

"It just goes to show you that if you stick around long enough, eventually you'll get recognized," joked Bruce in discussing his upcoming induction. And stick around he has, 55 years of involvement in sports to be exact. He has not only written about sports all his life, he has played them and at 74 years young he continues to be active as a player and organizer of old timers slow pitch softball and hockey in the City of London.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, They just don't make 'em like Bruce Huff any more!

But let's back up a bit to get to know the real "Huffer" that I grew up with. We came from the very grass roots of sports in the 1940s, playing baseball in back yards and hockey on a patch of ice in a corn field adjacent to his home on the outskirts of Dresden. We would train for high school track and field competition on the horse racing track at the Dresden Fair Grounds and experiment with boxing in a friend's barn. I am convinced that it is from these humble beginnings that Bruce developed his special interest in small town sports and the unheralded athletes and coaches behind the scenes.

Bruce was my catcher all through midget, juvenile and junior baseball in Dresden and I credit him, four years my senior, for his steadying influence on me. We had little in the way of coaching in those days and Bruce was a true student of the game. At about 16 or 17 years of age, he began reporting on local sports for the hometown newspaper, the Dresden Times, and that was enough introduction to launch a career in sports writing.

The thing that has impressed me most about Bruce over the years is that generally he left big name sports to other writers, opting instead to direct his "Off the Cuff" newspaper column to lesser known local athletes, teams and leagues. He was "the guy on the desk" at the Chatham News, the London Free Press and the Toronto Sun through five decades and to this day he has not stopped writing -- and playing.

Since retirement in April of 1994 he has continued as a freelance writer and has amassed an almost super human record of playing and coaching in more than 1,500 oldtimer hockey games including winning gold with London Huff' N Puff in the Snoopy World tournament in Santa Rosa, CA, being player-coach of a successful tour of Scotland, and being captain of his team in the recent World Cup in Quebec City. His hockey team will be playing an 80-game schedule this season, plus a number of tournaments. He is also player-manager of an elite senior slo-pitch softball team that plays across North America each summer. He has also been cited in the Who's Who of Canadian Sport.

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Bear in mind that I'm writing here about someone who has lived three quarters of a century. Most guys half his age couldn't keep up with his pace, I know I couldn't.

Away from the computer keyboard, the ice rink and ball diamond, Bruce is the founding chairman of the London Sports Hall of Fame committee, the first chairman of the London Oldtimers Sports Association, a charter member of the London Sports Council, co-ordinator of the Grandstand Display project at Labatt Park, director of the Intercounty Baseball League hall of fame committee and the person responsible for bringing the hall to London as a permanent site.

He is a member of the Canadian Oldtimers Hockey Hall of Fame, the Dresden Sports Hall of Fame, the Ontario Legends of Fastball and has been honored as a London Hockey Man of Distinction as well as being London's Sportsperson of the year in 2003.

The most amazing part of all this is the fact that Bruce's wife Carolyn (nee Deline of Dresden) has hung in with him all the way. Now there's a 55-year endurance record worthy of its own hall of fame. I often tease Bruce by saying "give my sympathy to Carolyn"...I don't know if he appreciates my sense of humor.

Any way Bruce, sincerest congratulations to you -- and Carolyn -- on a wonderful career and life. I don't know how either one of you has done it. You're made out of special stuff, Huff!

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Now here's a kicker for you. The Huff's oldest son, Kelly, recently ended a long tenure with Loblaws to join the Staples Business Depot chain as Vice-President of Real Estate and Construction. My oldest daughter, Debbie, also works at Staples head office in Richmond Hill and the two of them met a couple of weeks ago to discuss their dads. Even more coincidental, my son-in-law Joe Rocha is in the construction, design business and one of his major clients is the Staples corporation and a guy named Kelly Huff. Small world!