JUST IN PASSING...

If your prayers are not being answered, there are those who might suggest the possibility that you are beseeching the wrong deity.  They might also say that you are making your supplications in an inappropriate fashion.  Personally, I do not think that there is a wrong way to pray.  There is a wrong way to wish for things, however.  Sincere wishes, expressed in a spiritual way and given over to God's universe, are similar to the act of praying and have every possibility of being granted.  If that possibility makes you feel uncomfortable, you may be well advised to wish (or pray) for something else.

I like what someone said about addictions the other day...We all have them, right?  We might readily allude to the "little" addictions in our life, but some are not quite so little.  We might think, "I'm fond of my coffee in the morning."  But on that odd morning when we run out of coffee, we realize that we are more than fond of it, in fact we are hooked on it.  My friend suggested that situations like that can present opportunities for us.  "It is just when we realize just how reliant we have become on something that we are blessed with the greatest chance to learn how to overcome that dependency."  Certainly, we do not need to feel trapped by anything in life, but if I'm going to be "hooked" on something I'll take coffee every time.

Vote for Madison Brennan - Harrow, ON in the 2013 National Mobility Awareness Month "Local Hero" contest!

NOTE FROM DICK: I am supporting highly-deserving teenager Madison Brennan in conjunction with a National Mobility Awareness Month initiative. Madison is the granddaughter of a friend, Robbie Davis of Southampton, and the daughter of Jay and Carol Brennan of Harrow, ON. A vote for Madison could help her win a 2013 wheelchair accessible vehicle. Just look for her (*Enter to Win...Find A Local Hero) on the National Mobility Awareness Month web site at www.nmeda.com. You can also Google "Madison Brennen, Harrow, ON." to gain access to the voting site.

MADISON BRENNAN

Madison is a bright, sociable, enthusiastic 17-year-old girl. She has overcome and surpassed countless obstacles in her life. She was born at 24 weeks, weighing only 1lb 10oz and was given only a10% chance of living. She is profoundly deaf and has Cerebral Palsy which has completely confined her to a wheelchair and is unable to move independently. She has faced many adversities but still has the most contagious smile and laugh you have ever seen or heard. She struggles with the day to day things in life that we take for granted and at the same time you’re inspired by her strength and persistence. Madison enriches the lives of everyone she meets, but as she gets older and bigger she is having increased health issues such as severe chronic tone pain for which she receives regular injections to control the pain and is only comfortable using her electric wheelchair.

Even though she tries to look beyond her disabilities and fit in, she still feels the frustration of her limitations regularly. Now only being able to feel comfortable in her electric chair she is limited even further because school and home are the only places she can go in her electric wheelchair. This vehicle would enrich Madison’s life tremendously. It would help her be able to live a productive life. She would be able to go places like the mall with her friends and out in the community to dances and other events and even to doctor’s appointments in comfort. It would also give her back some of her independence and freedom and help her live her life to the fullest and enable her to continue to inspire and enrich everyone she meets.

Gramma Robbie thanks you in advance for supporting Madison with your vote...I do too!  Note also that you can vote for Madison every day until the contest closes.

YOU COULD HELP SAVE A LIFE

During a BBQ, a woman stumbled and took a little fall - she assured everyone that she was fine (they offered to call paramedics) ...she said she had just tripped over a brick because of her new shoes.

They got her cleaned up and gave her a new plate of food. While she appeared a bit shaken up, Jane went about enjoying herself the rest of the evening.

Jane's husband called later telling everyone that his wife had been taken to the hospital - (at 6:00 PM Jane passed away.) She had suffered a stroke at the BBQ. Had they known how to identify the signs of a stroke, perhaps Jane would be with us today. Some don't die. They end up in a helpless, hopeless condition instead.

It only takes a minute to read this.

A neurologist says that if he can get to a stroke victim within THREE hours he can totally reverse the effects of a stroke...totally. He said the trick was getting a stroke recognized, diagnosed, and then getting the patient medically cared for within THREE hours, which is tough.

Thank God for the sense to remember the "Three Steps", STR. Read and Learn!

Sometimes symptoms of a stroke are difficult to identify. Unfortunately, the lack of awareness spells disaster. The stroke victim may suffer severe brain damage when people nearby fail to recognize the symptoms of a stroke.

Now doctors say a bystander can recognize a stroke by asking three simple questions:

S *Ask the individual to SMILE.

T *Ask the person to TALK and SPEAK A SIMPLE SENTENCE (Coherently)
(i.e. Chicken Soup)

R *Ask him or her to RAISE BOTH ARMS.

If he or she has trouble with ANY ONE of these tasks, call emergency number immediately and describe the symptoms to the dispatcher.  NOTE: Another 'sign' of a stroke is this: Ask the person to 'stick' out their tongue. If the tongue is crooked', if it goes to one side or the other, that is also an indication of a stroke.

A cardiologist says if everyone who gets this message sends it to 10 people; you can bet that at least one life will be saved.

I WAS JUST SITTING HERE WONDERING...

...When the hell is spring coming?

BOY, WHAT I COULDN'T DO WITH $12.5 MILLION

I thought my readers would be interested in an email I received yesterday from a woman in Malaysia.  For some reason I get a lot of similar urgent pleas from people (usually women with pathetic stories) wanting to give me large sums of money.  I guess I have "sucker" written across my forehead or maybe wrightwords@sympatico.ca has some other giveaway meaning in certain foreign languages.  Anyway, should I pass up another opportunity for a cool $12.5 million in hard cash U.S.?  Just think of the good that I could do with it...Maybe even skim a mil or two off the top to supplement my fixed income.  Ideas, anyone?

From Mrs. Misael Garcia:

Life itself is a misery and nobody can tell what can be of it. Those that can tell what can be of it are those who cannot tell us because they are far from us (dead). if u will want to hear my story. I am the above named person but now undergoing medical treatment for cancer.

I am married to Dr. Garcia who worked with American embassy in Malaysia for nine years before he died in the year 2006. 

well i will only try to let you know who Dr. Garcia is by stating his philosophy of life ."life is worth living only if lived to the service of mankind" and "You make a living by what you earn, but you make life by what you give" This will give you an insight of the spirit behind what i believe and what i will live for because he is my mentor. 

To continue with my story, We were married for eleven years without a child. He died after a brief illness that lasted for only four days.Before his death we have made something of and from life. Since his death I decided not to re-marry or adopt a child, this is basically my own decision to honor him for the love we shared and the life we lived for. My late husband deposited the sum of$12.5Million (twelve million five hundred thousand U.S. Dollars) with one finance/security company in Europe before his death.

Presently, this money is still with the Security Company. 

Recently, my Doctor told me that I would not last for the next three months due to cancer problem. Though what disturbs me most is my stroke. Having known my condition I decided to donate this fund to a church, better still a Christian individual or a Muslim that will utilize this money the way I am going to instruct herein. first you must abide and live with my husband's philosophy, as stated you can't remember please i refer you to read through from the introduction of this letter cause that is the most important aspect that you must uphold. 

Secondly I want an organization or an individual that is God fearing who can invest the money and continuously use the money to fund orphanages,widows,the less privilege,the disabled and all those afflicted with strange illness or diseases.

Thirdly this money should not be used in an ungodly manner, or any form of evil or selfishness for that will warrant evil to that persons life and family from generations to generations. For you cannot use the hard earned money of my husband and i for evil or ungodly purposes. If these conditions are met i am not afraid of death for i know where i am going to and my heart will rest in peace. 

I do not need any telephone communication in this regard because of my health, for as soon as I receive your reply I will refer you to the contact of the Finance/Security Company in Europe and my doctor who shall arrange
you the letter of claim from the Malaysia High Court of Justice. This will be done if i see from your response that you satisfy the above conditions stated.

As i stated My doctor will issue you a letter of authority that will empower you as the original- beneficiary of this funds (consignment). i choose this means to locate you because i am sure i will be lead by a good spirit to the kind of person that will be honest. 

Delay in your reply will not be of benefit to me due to my health condition and this will propel me to search for someone else.Please assure me that you will act accordingly as I stated herein.

Please do get to me immediately

Hoping to hear from you.

In His Services.

Mrs. Misael Garcia

Ran across the following earlier today.  Couldn't help but relate.

Today is the oldest you've ever been, yet the youngest you'll ever be so - enjoy this day while it lasts.

Your kids are becoming you...but your grandchildren are something you never were -- perfect!

Going out is good..coming home is better!

You forget names...but it's okay because other people forgot they even knew you!!!

You realize you're never going to be really good at anything....especially golf.

The things you used to care to do, you no longer care to do, but you really do care that you don't care to do them anymore.

You sleep better on a lounge chair with the TV blaring than in bed...it's called "pre-sleep".

You miss the days when everything worked with just an "on" and "off" switch.

You tend to use more four-letter words ..."what?"..."when?"... ???

What used to be freckles are now liver spots.

Everybody whispers.

You have three sizes of clothes in your closet....two of which you will never wear.

It's not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived.

But old is good in some things: old memories, old songs, old movies, and best of all, old friends.

TODAY I JOIN THE WELSH IN CELEBRATING...

Well, they come and they go on March 1st.  Take me and St. David, the patron saint of Wales, for instance.

St. David apparently died on this date, and approximately 20 centuries later I was born.

It is not commonly recognized in North America,  but March 1st, is St. David's Day - a day of remembrance for the death of  the Patron Saint.  Tradition holds that he died in the year 589 and, in the 18th century the first day of March was declared a national holiday in Wales.

As the Patron Saint of Wales, St. David plays a very important role in Welsh culture with parades held in Wales, especially in Cardiff where the Queen or Prince of Wales attend festivities.  People of Welsh background, such as 19th century explorer David Thompson and 20th century novelist Robertson Davies, are remembered on this day and many Canadians can trace their ancestry to Wales.  Unlike a number of contemporary Welsh "saints", David was officially recognized in 1120 by the Vatican.

The Welsh flag.

The Welsh generally are known to be extremely talented people.  Heading the list of Welsh notables in the entertainment field are singer Tom Jones and actor Richard Burton.  Actress Catherine Zeta-Jones is also of Welsh heritage.

I don't have an ounce of Welsh blood in me, but I enjoy celebrating March 1st. anyway.  Glad my mother had me 75 years ago today on good old Canadian terra firma!

MY MOTHER NEVER DID END UP IN A POOR HOUSE, BUT I MIGHT (OR AN INSANE ASYLUM, WHICH EVER COMES FIRST)...I'M MY MOTHER'S SON YOU KNOW

The Wellington County Museum and Archives is a National Historic Site.  It is located in a building that stands as the oldest remaining 'House of  Industry" in Canada. It was built in 1877 as a "Poor House" or place of refuge for the poor, homeless, and destitute people in Wellington County. It operated as a Poor House and Industrial Farm until 1947 when it became a County Home for the Aged. It was later transformed into the Wellington County Museum and Archives. A new Archives wing opened in 2010.

Recent discussion within the Dresden Virtual History Group is centering around "poorhouses" as they existed in the l9th century.  I grew up hearing the expression "poor house" more often than I care to recount.  You know..."We're all going to end up in the poor house" or "It won't be long before I'm in the poor house."

That was my mother talking when my dad did not bring home enough money from his business at the end of the week or when she was hard-pressed to meet living expenses.  "You're driving me to the insane asylum" was another expression often directed at the three men in her life -- my dad, my grandfather and me; but that's another story.  We're talking here about poor houses, although there might well be some correlation.

Though more commonly associated with Victorian England and novels by Charles Dickens, such as Oliver Twist, the poor house was part of Canada's social fabric for more than 60 years and one of its earliest legislated responses to poverty. Poor houses have been forgotten but they are part of our local history. These "houses of industry and refuge," as they came to be known, were shelters of last resort for the destitute, homeless, "feeble-minded" and elderly. In exchange for their labour, they were provided with spartan accommodation, clothes and simple food, much of it grown themselves. At Christmas, there might be small gifts, perhaps a handkerchief, a pipe or an orange.

The poor house closest to my home in Dresden was located in Chatham and according to a virtual history group member there was another located in Strathroy (her great grandmother died there).  To the best of my knowledge both houses were demolished years ago.  One of the oldest surviving examples of a poor house in Canada is in Wellington County (see photo). The Fergus, ON. building, a national historic site, opened in 1877 at a time when "pauperism" was considered a moral failing that could be erased through order and hard work. I have visited the Fergus facility and it is truly one of the province's best kept secrets.

It was also something Lieutenant-Governor John Graves Simcoe had very much wanted to avoid when he arrived in Upper Canada in 1791.  In his native England, more than 100,000 people were swallowed up in work houses, funded by a "poor tax" on landowners and criticized for being costly and creating cycles of dependency.

"When he came over to take up his position here, he was absolutely convinced he wasn't going to allow anything like that to develop," David Wood, a professor emeritus of geography and urban studies at York University's Atkinson College, has commented.  Yet poverty was inescapable. Crops failed. People starved. On farms and in cities, as the province slowly started to become industrialized, many couldn't work because they were sick or injured or old.

The only option for indigent people in the province's earliest days was to seek shelter for a night or two at the local jail, said Wood in a newspaper interview a few years ago.  He has written on the legislative history of Ontario's poorhouse system and admissions in Wellington County. One newspaper account from the early 1870s tells of one elderly man who was living in a hollowed-out log on a farmer's field in a township outside Fergus, partly paralyzed and in danger of freezing to death. The council was debating what to do and the story was being repeated hundreds of times across the country.

Across Canada, elected officials were struggling with similar problems. Handouts of food or clothing known as "outdoor relief" became common and, in New Brunswick, one solution was to auction off care of the poor to the lowest bidder at "pauper auctions" that were compared to slavery in the American south.  In Ontario, the province passed the Houses of Refuge Act in 1890, which provided county governments with grants of up to $4,000 to purchase at least 45 acres of land and construct a suitable building. By 1903, new legislation required every county in Ontario to have a house of refuge.

Much like today, misfortune seemed to hit society's most vulnerable people the hardest – the unskilled, the elderly, the disabled and children. While Canadian society has evolved and a sophisticated social safety net has developed to ease the burdens of those who've fallen on hard times, attitudes toward poverty remain much the same today.

Just another not-so-happy peek at yesteryear. A time that we should not so readily forget as we enjoy the comfort and security of our lives today.

THE WOES OF WINTER -- AND TOWN SNOW PLOWS

WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH THAT MESS?  This is what faced me at
noon on Saturday --  three-and-a-half feet of snow in my driveway.

DIG YOURSELF OUT YOU FOOL!  After almost an hour of  shoveling I 
finally penetrated the heavy  blockade but couldn't help leaving some 
snow in the street.

I know that I am no different than any one else when it comes to coping with mounds of snow piled in my driveway by municipal road clearing crews each winter. It is an unfortunate fact of life this time of year, but that does not make it any less of a nuisance that places inconvenience and physical strain on all of us.  Adding insult to injury for me this week was an announcement by Saugeen Shores Police Chief Dan Rivett to the effect that is was a breach of the Highway Traffic Act to deposit snow back onto the roadway, a crime that carried a $110 fine.  I just could not sit back and take it any more and vented my frustration in the following Letter to the Editor of the Saugeen Times.  I'm sure that readers will appreciate where I am coming from on this one.

Letter to the Editor, Saugeen Times

I may have been guilty of breaking a law under the Highway Traffic Act on Saturday, February 9, 2013.

I read with interest and a degree of chagrin the "Police Beat" column published in the Saugeen Times, February 7, 2013, and a notice "From the Desk of the Chief (Dan Rivett)" announcing to the tax-paying public the sin of "pushing snow onto the roadway." He added insult to injury for 90 per cent of the population of Saugeen Shores by pointing out the potential of a $110.00 fine. My immediate reaction was "I think I may be in trouble."

You see I am a 75-year-old senior citizen recovering from total hip replacement surgery. For three days late last week I was marooned in my home due to the heavy snow fall and the fact that town road and sidewalk plows had deposited a good three-and-a-half-feet of snow in the entrance to my driveway. Finally, on Saturday, February 9, with no snow fall overnight, I had no other option but to dig myself out -- we were running out of food and my disabled wife needed a drug prescription refilled. I started shoveling at 1:15 p.m. and by 2 o'clock I had made my way down to the entrance to the driveway -- that's where the real work began. I took a short break for a hot cup of soup and two Naproxens, then set out to try to make a dint in the waist-high pile of snow at the roadway. Exactly 50 minutes later, I made the breakthrough.

Just as I was finishing depositing the last shovel of snow in the by now six-foot mountain at the curb, an elderly woman happened by on foot. We chatted briefly. She told me that she and her 90-year-old husband had a similar problem at their home just around the corner. "He (her husband) is laid up today because he worked so hard for two days trying to clear the pile of snow at the foot our driveway. I tried to tell him to take it easy, but he insisted; now he's paying a price," she lamented. I fully sympathized.

I live on Grey Street North in Southampton where the sidewalk is separated from the street by a two-foot-wide boulevard which limits space to pile up snow cleared from the street entrances to our driveways. Try as I may, I could not help but spread some of the snow approximately three feet out onto the street where it came from originally...In fact we all do it, out of necessity. The accompanying two photos show exactly what I am talking about. The scene was repeated several hundred times in Southampton this weekend.

This is how the "placement of snow" act is printed in Town of Saugeen Shores "Winter Maintenance Procedures".

Placement of Snow on Municipal Right-of-Ways

"Residents of the Town of Saugeen Shores are reminded that, pursuant to Section 181 of the Highway Traffic Act:

No person shall deposit snow or ice on a roadway without permission in writing to do so from the Ministry or the Road Authority responsible for the maintenance of the road R.S.O. 1990, s 181. Deposition of these materials on the roadway interferes with property maintenance practices. Your attention to this Act is required to assist us with keeping the roads maintained in a safe and useable condition."

Since he has publicly made an issue of this matter, my question to Chief Rivett is this: How much snow "deposited" back on the street is too much and how far out on the street is too far? For most of us it is virtually impossible not to leave some snow on the roadway after clearing the entrances to our driveways. Surely his officers will show due discretion as they patrol town streets (?) after heavy snowfalls and make allowances for senior citizens in particular who do not set out to break the law...They just need to get out of their driveways by the most expeditious means possible and without getting stuck in the snow that the town has redirected onto their property. Sometimes it is not a fair world! Not even in Southampton the good.

Richard "Dick" Wright
Southampton

THE ZACK BREAULT STORY:

I publish the following story especially for the enjoyment of old baseball chums Bruce Huff, Bob Peters, Jarvis Cook and Floyd McKorkle (all regular readers of Wrights Lane) and my friend Larry Balkwell Sr. of Chatham whose son Larry Jr. will soon break into baseball's professional ranks. We can all relate, for different reasons. This excellent account was written by Bob Fai who is publicity director for the Vancouver Canadians Baseball Team.

By Bob Fai

(Scotiabank Field at Nat Bailey Stadium - Vancouver, B.C.) - We are in the business of selling dreams here at the ballpark, it's as simple as that.

We tell you of players like Rich Harden, Kurt Suzuki and Nick Swisher that have gone on to play under the bright lights of a Major League Baseball stadium. It is what we hope makes us a credible summertime destination for passionate fans of baseball here in Vancouver.

Sure we have hot dogs that are as long as your child's arm, we have a grounds crew that breaks out in dance on a nightly basis - but we also try and sell you on the 'future' as well - the future of our players who maybe, just maybe, will one day go on to become the stars that you'll find on TV playing for the Toronto Blue Jays.

Canadian's pitcher Zack Breault 
moments after winning the NWL
 Championship in Boise, ID. 

Some make it, while others more often than not - don't.

That's okay to admit because what we are actually selling isn't the assurance that you are watching future Major League Baseball players - but that you are watching players 'try' to become Major League Baseball stars.

That to me is what makes our players' journeys so wonderful each summer.

Let me tell you the story of a player who chose this week to stop his pursuit of wearing a Blue Jays jersey - or any Major League jersey for that matter.

I became friends with now 'former' Canadians pitcher Zack Breault in the summer of 2011 shortly after he was assigned to Vancouver to play for our hometown team.

Our brand seemed fitting as Zack was one of five Canadian-born players to make the roster two summers ago and was named Opening Day starter just hours before we began the pursuit of what would be the first of two straight Northwest League Championships.

At 6'4", I looked up to Zack in stature but as I got to know him, eventually, I looked up to him as a person as well.

You couldn't 'not' appreciate his demeanour.

His razor sharp sarcasm, his desire to win were all traits that I enjoyed being around much like his teammates.

It's not easy for every pitcher in the Minor Leagues to simply go out and win, but Breault would work through the highs and lows and always find a way to balance the cheques and balances of his statistics finishing his professional career at .500.

Four wins and four losses.

Sitting just behind me on our many bus rides together back in 2011, Zack and I would constantly go back and forth with me trying my best to pull off an impersonation of him while he could do nothing more than shake his head.

It might have bothered him, but you'd never know it - that was just Zack.

We would talk about baseball, life in Amherstburg, Ontario (his hometown) and his housing family here in Vancouver.

Shortly after announcing his retirement recently to a local newspaper back east, Zack went out of his way to thank Bill and Jana Maclagan as well as their children Konnerand Keegan.

"They were great people," said Breault to the Amherstburg River Times.

"They did everything in their power to make me feel as comfortable as possible. They were a pretty big part of my pro career."

A pretty classy move to thank those who waited up late and woke up early to ensure his progression on and off the diamond.

The Maclagan's have housed Canadians players for years now and Zack would likely rank right near the top of players whom they hold near and dear to their hearts.

This past summer, his second with the Canadians, Breault would find his way into Clayton McCullough's bullpen as the rotation from our Championship squad of 2011 looked completely different a year later.

Admittedly, it would take Zack a few outings before his game finally 'clicked' and at times you could see his frustration building.

A rough night in Everett back in late-July seemed to be the 'moment of truth' for Zack as his one inning of relief was anything but with the Aquasox torching him for a pair of runs, on a trio of hits en route to a Canadians loss, one that fell squarely on his shoulders.

Zack was as quiet as I had ever seen him after that outing as his 'slow burn' could be felt by everyone sitting near him on the bus. It would be a night where I chose wisely not to say a word.  We knew he needed the silence to figure things out - and he did.

That rough night in Everett would mark the last time any team in the Northwest League could manage a run off of his arm.

As he began to steer his season back onto the rails and toward overall success in August, I would watch him in the clubhouse, on the bus, at the field and around town - I think he knew even before we did that it was his time. He had reached as far into the professional game of baseball as his ability could take him.

I hope as you read this that you see there is absolutely no shame in this statement.

If anything, a sense of pride should be felt when you realize that even if your road doesn't end up in the Major Leagues, you have still gone further than 99% of those who dared to dream about a career in professional baseball.

Sometimes it's that peace and understanding that helps you do something you might not have done since you first signed a pro contract - breathe.

Once he exhaled, Zack was unbelievable down the stretch for Vancouver in 2012.

Not one run crossed home plate on his watch as his 14 1/3 innings of 'lights out' relief helped the Canadians chase down a playoff spot on the final day of the season.

If you can still remember, Vancouver needed every single one of those 46 wins in 2012 just to punch their ticket into the playoffs, and in reflection, it almost seems fitting that on a warm summer evening in Yakima, it would be Breault who would find the final victory of his career to help the C's clinch.

A week earlier, Breault was also at the center of another key moment in our season.

Those offensively-gifted Boise Hawks had been crushing LHP Kyle Anderson over his 1 2/3 innings of work here at Scotiabank Field as they put six runs up on the board in the top of the 2nd inning, forcing manager Clayton McCullough to summon Zack from the bullpen much earlier than expected to try and stop the bleeding.

Wouldn't you know it might have ended up being Breault's best outing as a professional.

Four and 1/3 innings of two-hit baseball holding the Hawks off the scoreboard until he turned the ball over to LHP Colton Turner who also slammed the door on the Hawks bats. This as the Canadians would somehow erase a six-run deficit to top Boise 7-6.

Had Vancouver not won that game, had Breault not come in and silenced the free swinging Boise bats, we would not be gearing up to slip on our second straight Northwest League Championship ring.

Simply put, Zack Breault can retire knowing that he finished his professional career as strong as anyone around him.  Even more beautiful, he leaves on his terms. No pink slip hanging in his locker. No injury that prevents him from taking to the field.

Zack simply gets to look his loved ones in the face and say 'I gave the best I had and this is as far as my abilities ended up taking me".

Every year we get to see upwards of 40 players try and reach for the stars.  Every year I find myself just as enamoured with those who choose to step aside from the game as I do those players who continue to push through.

I hope Zack will hold his head high, remembering the long bus rides full of laughter and learning, always looking at both of his Championship rings with the same pride that I look at mine - knowing that the only reason I have either of them - is because of players like Zack Breault.

Taking a leave of absence for a while folks.  Involved in a fairly intensive on-line lay ministry course...Talk to you when I have a free minute, or when I get back -- whichever comes first.

RETHINKING MY "SOCIAL" NETWORKING

I have always spoken what is on my mind. I appreciate others who do the same thing. Frankness and openness aids self-expression and when redirected, helps us know where others stand on issues. Admittedly, I have a "weird" (my wife's word) sense of humor too...Likewise, I appreciate and understand humor in others.

I have been involved in online communications now for more than 15 years. I have been dealing with the written word for almost 60 years -- a good half of that time in a public relations capacity. I think that social networking, in particular, has a lot of merit but, sadly, I have found that it feeds into human frailty and sensitivity like no other mode of present-day communication...You know, by all means "like" me and what I am posting (on-line, i.e. Facebook); but if you don't, "defriend me" (i.e. like it or lump it). Rational discussion often takes a back seat to argumentative reactions and the ultimate click of a computer key. Innuendo also runs rampant.

Quite honestly, more and more I find myself being annoyed by what I am seeing and reading on Facebook. Cutting, pasting and regurgitating the work of others under the guise of "sharing" is commonplace and spoils otherwise good intentions. It lacks something when we see several dozen other people sharing exactly the same post, which may or may not carry a virus. Originality is totally lacking. I do not live in a vacuum...There have been times when my more serious work has been viewed critically. On occasion, my comments have been misunderstood in some quarters and known to offend. That all goes with the territory for a veteran writer.

Humans experience an emotional response to a situation or comment first, making our primary feelings strong motivations of our behavior before we can think in rational terms. On-line/virtual interaction complicates how we interpret what we read and it is devoid of facial expressions, gestures and body language; it has no tone of voice to indicate emotion behind our words. How words are read and interpreted is up to the recipient and caution needs to be exercised here...We would do well to re-read words (several times if necessary), and think about them from the writer's perspective. We would also do well to consider the reader when crafting our words, think about how they may be received and if there is a better way to express ourselves.

On-line communications is a two-way street. We should navigate with care and sensitivity...Life is too short for spur-of-the-moment knee-jerk reactions. Trust me, no one wins an argument on Facebook.

Here's what another writer has to say on the subject: "Sex, relationships, personal causes, racism, religion, death, and politics are all serious topics, and they're all guaranteed one-way tickets to offending someone, and that's too bad. My advice to those who are busy drafting their angry responses while reading this is to chill. Take a second and ask yourself if perhaps you're being a little too sensitive, and therefore missing the point.

"Disagreeing with someone is par for the course in life. But telling another guy what he can and cannot say goes too far. If you disagree, wait for him to finish, consider what he has said and then react logically and sensibly to his ideas.

"Remember that not everything that is written or said is directed specifically at you; it's usually for the public at large or based on a specific principle. Everything happens within a context, even your reaction. It's the context that shapes the meaning of a statement. So consider, among other things, who the statement was directed at, what came before it and the writer or speaker's perspective.

"If all else fails, it sometimes pays to simply ignore the comment or provocative post. Life is too short to argue with everyone over every little thing. You've got better things to do... I hope. My advice is to try to let things slide. If they're really so bad, don't lend them credibility by talking further about them."

Thank you for that my friend. You know whereof you speak!!

Personally, for what little time I have left on this earth, I am going to be letting a lot of things slide. It is in my best interest. Maybe I should start by spending less time on Facebook and more time dealing with the things that really matter in my life.

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THE FIRST GIFT FROM SANTA THAT I REMEMBER

Just as a followup to my last post in which I talked about old things and how much I enjoy them, here's another from my cedar chest of memories.  I have a "small" reason to remember the first Christmas that was of any significance to me...It was the Christmas of 1940 and Santa Claus brought me a miniature toy piano (shown in the accompanying photo). I still have that little piano and it is, of course, now very much an antique -- a collector's item in some quarters. It is 9X7 inches, made of mahogany, has well-worn wooden keys and plays the notes C,D,E,F,G,A,B,C. The words "Philharmonic, Tuned International Pitch" are printed in gold lettering on the front.  Click on the video for a closer look.

A SENTIMENTALIST'S DILEMMA OF WHAT TO DO WITH A NEGLECTED ANTIQUE CHEST OF DRAWERS

Those who read my posts on this site know that I am a self-admitted oddball.  Among other things, I enjoy antiques.  Nothing strange in that if it were not for the fact that I grow attached to all old things, especially items of certain family significance.  They continue to talk to me of times past and of history that predates me.  They are like old friends and I cannot justify life without them.

Thirty or 40 years ago, I was relatively indifferent to family heirlooms that had come into my possession and I carelessly, or thoughtlessly,  let some of them slip away.  Like an oil painting by my grandmother Louise Wright, circa 1895.  I inadvertently put a chair leg through the canvas of my grandmother's sole venture into the world of art and as a result threw it in the trash.  Then there was the 100-year-old butter churn that I left out on a patio deck in winter and it eventually cracked and fell apart because of frost and a build up of ice that had accumulated in the bottom.  I also once gave away a priceless smoked glass fish ornament passed down from a great aunt, that I later discovered was worth a small fortune on the antique auction floor.  Pressure from a friend induced me to sell him an ice cream parlor table and two chairs from my Aunt Della Dunlop's bake shop store in Oil Springs (1920-1945).   I shouldn't dwell on such things, but I do.

Oct -13-1908 started engine

I eventually learned a very costly lesson the hard way. I matured over the years with a resultant deep appreciation for personal affects of my ancestors.

I have selectively given some pieces to my daughters and grandchildren but I could still literally furnish another house with antique furniture that I have stored in my garage -- tables, chairs, dressers, chiffoniers, love seats, cabinets.  For years I have been threatening to stage a garage sale that would be the granddaddy of them all, but I keep suppressing the notion.

I have a mid-Victorian period chest of drawers (circa 1850?) that has increasingly weighed heavily on me for more reasons than just one.  I braved the elements late last night (when I should have been in bed) to check on the solid walnut piece that was once used by my grandfather Wesley Wright, and subsequently my father Ken in respective bedrooms at our family homestead in Dresden, ON.  As I removed the blanket from the chest of drawers, I was shocked to see signs of deterioration from exposure to the extremes of  summer and winter temperatures over a 10-year period.  I hated myself for the neglect and vowed to take restorative measures before too much more time passes.  Surely I can squeeze it back into my house somewhere, somehow.

Ebby Wright, Dresden, Ont. 1909 Jan. 22

I carefully removed a couple of the drawers where I remembered my grandfather and a step-uncle had made notations in pencil.  There they were, as if written only yesterday:  "Oct.--13--1908 started engine" (a reference by my grandfather to an electric pump engine that he had installed in a rock water well at the back of our property); "Ebby Wright, Dresden, Ontario, 1909" (perhaps Ebby shared the chest of drawers with his dad at one point); "Oct. 25 1900 Ebler Albert Baxter" (I have no idea who Albert Baxter was, but I had to smile at the possibility that I inherited slight dyslexia from my grandfather.  Note: "Abler...", an obvious transposition of letters in attempting to write the name "Albert".  I frequently find myself doing that very same thing, in fact there might well be some letter transposition in this post.)

Oct. 25, 1909 (Abler) Albert Baxter 

One of the drawers has a strange form of hieroglyphics scratched into the side with possibly a nail.  Numbers and percent signs are slightly visible with something resembling the date 1888.

As I put the drawers back in place I remembered the time 12 years ago when, in a moment of weakness, I actually decided to get rid of the chest that had survived the previous 150-plus years.  After my move to the Saugeen Shores area, I found it necessary to put a number of items in a rental storage unit until I was able to get settled, including the chest-high piece of furniture that weighed at least 200 pounds and was taking up a lot of storage space.  With great difficulty, I was able to hoist it into a dumpster that I found on the premises and hastily took my leave, with empty trailer in tow.

Dove tail joints typical of Victorian
 era furniture made in Ontario.

The five-minute drive home was torturous.  I struggled with the wisdom of my spur-of-the-moment, impulsive decision.  Once in my driveway, I made a U-turn and headed back to the storage complex where I  promptly pulled the abandoned chest of drawers out of the dumpster, minus the back which had come loose with the rough treatment I had given it.  With a few nails and some lovingly-applied furniture polish, the chest of drawers once again gained a place of prominence in my new home.

A down-sizing move to Southampton a few years later once again necessitated my storing the chest of drawers in my garage "until I could find room for it in the house".  That was almost 10 years ago and I still have not found sufficient room.  But that's all going to change, trust me.  I simply cannot neglect that piece of me any longer...All I have to do is decide what I have to get rid of in order to make room for it in the house.

Therein lies another problem.  I'll let you know how I make out.  A garage sale this Spring is sounding better all the time...Or perhaps an addition to the house?

A MESSAGE OF HOPE AND HEALING FOR 2013

Caroline Flohr is the author of a recently-published  book, “Heaven’s Child,” www.heavenschild.com. It details her spiritual journey beginning with the sudden death of 16-year-old twin daughter, Sarah. Flohr was forced to dig into the deeper meaning of existence and came away with profound edification and appreciation for the gifts left behind by those who leave us. Flohr lives with her husband and children on Bainbridge Island, a suburb of Seattle.  I gave some space to Caroline and her book several weeks ago but thought that this followup from her was timely and significant.

By Caroline Flohr

As a new year dawns, many of us still grieve losses experienced in 2012. For some, it’s very personal – the death of a parent, spouse or child. Others mourn the lives lost in one of the many tragedies we experienced together as a nation.

 

As a mother of a 16-year-old twin daughter killed in a car accident involving eight teenagers, I assure those of you who are still coming to terms with your loss and grief – it is possible to journey from the unimaginable to acceptance and a spiritual peace. I urge you to embrace the healing power of family and community, love and faith. You will be surprised at how it can transform you.

You can find renewal in this new year.

I have learned that death defines not the end, but a beginning. I have learned that, by weaving tragedy into the fabric of our lives, we can be stronger, spiritually richer and, yes, even happier for it.

Here are some of the milestones I experienced on my journey to inner peace:

• Deeper meaning: Through the death of someone so important, you will be changed. The question is how you will be changed. Will you grow, or become diminished? I grew with the realization that death – so often viewed as an end – is just the beginning of another phase of existence. One of my favorite quotes is from poet Rabindranath Tagore: Death is not extinguishing the light. It is putting out the lamp because dawn has come.

• Celebrate life: When the bereaved are able to look at the life of a person who has passed and see more beauty than pain, they should rejoice. The reality of a person’s absence will always have an element of sadness, but the joy of wonderful memories is even more powerful. When loved ones leave this Earth, graces are given to those relationships left behind. These are gifts. When we can acknowledge them, our lives can expand in the present.

• Ready for anything: Once you’ve experienced the worst and pulled through, you know you will be able to weather just about any adversity. Maya Angelou wrote, ‘“You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it.” Have faith in that inner strength we all harbor.

• Appreciate what you have: Life as we know it will come to an end. This includes everyone we know, love and care about; it’s a fact that we often forget, and it’s as startling to remember as it is true. Come good or bad, we do not know what the future will bring, which means we should take every opportunity to fully embrace the present, and our loved ones.

 

Thank you for that Caroline...Good luck with the book! 

STEP OUT OF YOUR COMFORT ZONE ON THE ROAD TO SUCCESS AND ACHIEVEMENT

It is easy to get trapped doing the same thing every day, but trying something new is proven to boost happiness and confidence. There is no faster route to self-confidence than by stepping out of your comfort zone. “It sends a message of self-belief to your subconscious that you believe in yourself,” says life coach Domonique Bertolucci, author of The Happiness Code. “Your confidence levels will automatically rise.”

I have written on this subject frequently in the past and I touch on it again in this post because I know that there are at least a couple of  young people out there who can benefit at a crucial stage in their lives.  Stepping out of your comfort zone makes perfect sense, so why don’t we automatically do it? “Fear – we expect to stuff up and fail,” says psychologist and coach Dr Darryl Cross, another authority.

 

Follow these easy tips and you’ll learn to consistently keep out of your comfort zone as you progress though life.  I know from first-hand experience, because I have followed every one of them over the years as I overcame an inborn shyness and fear of failure.  Oh sure, I have had failures...There is no guarantee otherwise.  Things do not always work out as we would have liked, but we learn best from failure.  We improve as individuals every time we face a challenge head on.  

 

Plan ahead

Everyone has a different comfort zone, so you need to clarify what needs changing in your life. Know what the big picture looks like and make it enticing.  Whether you want to make a career move, drop a clothing size, save money or develop better relationships, you need to make a plan in order to get there. Make a list of 12 things you can do over the next 12 months that feel scary now, but that you know will give your confidence a big boost when you do them. As Bertolucci puts it in her new book: “If you aim to do one thing each month that scares you, at the end of the year your confidence levels will have soared.”

Act confident

Practice holding your head high and you’ll feel more positive. Imagine a time when you were feeling successful – now practice standing that way, sitting that way and moving that way. When you change your body to be confident, your body starts controlling your brain, rather than the brain controlling body.  Suddenly, stepping out of your comfort zone will not seem so hard.  The more you do it, the easier it gets.

Boost your body confidence 
 

Negative body talk can trap you in your comfort zone, so rather than putting yourself down, try repeating positive statements to change your head space. “Write a simple statement about how you would like your world to be,” Bertolucci says. “Make sure you write it in the present tense and repeat your affirmations three times over, three times a day and watch your self-belief grow.”

Don't give up
 

I repeat, accept the fact that you will make mistakes. “We learn more from our failures than our successes,” Dr Cross emphasizes. “But as you refine the technique and get it right you feel proud, which enhances self esteem.”

Shyness and lack of confidence can be successfully countered, trust me.  But it takes work, commitment and ultimate action.  You have to be motivated to take that first "uncomfortable" step into a place that you have never been before.  But that's life, isn't it?

We face something new and different every minute, every hour, every day.  That's what is so wonderful about life!  Embrace those new and different things with joy and excitement.  Do not become so comfortable within yourself that you shy away from the potentially great things that life has in store for you.

Comfort breeds complacency, laziness, stagnation.  Hermits are complacent, lazy and stagnant...In time they waste away -- all by themselves.  Don't become a hermit.  The world needs you!
                                          

HAPPY NEW YEAR Y'ALL, START IT WITH A LAUGH

I have been sitting at my computer for at least 30 minutes trying to think of something really profound, original and noble to say to my friends about the coming New Year, but sad to say adequate words escape me.  Maybe I'll try something a little different by letting some others express themselves,  albeit slightly off-the-wall for the most part -- funny with a grain of truth in some instances.
A New Year may be a significant event for many. But the absurdities of the celebration cannot escape a skeptic. What better way to start a New Year than with a hearty laugh?  Here is a collection of New Years quotes, some of which you too may want to share with friends.

Mark Twain
New Year's is a harmless annual institution, of no particular use to anybody save as a scapegoat for promiscuous drunks, and friendly calls and humbug resolutions.

Brooks Atkinson
Drop the last year into the silent limbo of the past. Let it go, for it was imperfect, and thank God that it can go.

Bill Vaughan
Youth is when you're allowed to stay up late on New Year's Eve. Middle age is when you're forced to.

P. J. O'Rourke
The proper behavior all through the holiday season is to be drunk. This drunkenness culminates on New Year's Eve, when you get so drunk you kiss the person you're married to.

Jay Leno
Now there are more overweight people in America than average-weight people. So overweight people are now average… which means, you have met your New Year's resolution.

James Agate
New Year's Resolution: To tolerate fools more gladly, provided this does not encourage them to take up more of my time.

Eric Zorn
Making resolutions is a cleansing ritual of self assessment and repentance that demands personal honesty and, ultimately, reinforces humility. Breaking them is part of the cycle.

Bill Vaughan
An optimist stays up until midnight to see the New Year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.

Charles Lamb
New Year's Day is every man's birthday.

Oprah Winfrey
Cheers to a New Year and another chance for us to get it right.

Mark Twain
New Year's Day now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual.

Judith Crist
Happiness is too many things these days for anyone to wish it on anyone lightly. So let's just wish each other a bile-less New Year and leave it at that.

Anonymous
Many people look forward to the New Year for a new start on old habits.

Joey Adams
May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions!

Anais Nin
I made no resolutions for the New Year. The habit of making plans, of criticizing, sanctioning and molding my life, is too much of a daily event for me.

Oscar Wilde
Good resolutions are simply checks that men draw on a bank where they have no account.

Robert Paul
I'm a little bit older, a little bit wiser, a little bit rounder, but still none the wiser.

Anonymous
A New Year's resolution is something that goes in one Year and out the other.

Leonard Bernstein
From New Year's on the outlook brightens; good humor lost in a mood of failure returns. I resolve to stop complaining.

G. K. Chesterton
The object of a New Year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul and a new nose; new feet, a new backbone, new ears, and new eyes. Unless a particular man made New Year resolutions, he would make no resolutions. Unless a man starts afresh about things, he will certainly do nothing effective. Unless a man starts on the strange assumption that he has never existed before, it is quite certain that he will never exist afterwards. Unless a man be born again, he shall by no means enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.

Dick Wright
Oh no!  Here we go again my friends...Let's all resolve to turn 20"13" into our luckiest year ever.

THE CHRISTMAS THAT WAS OUR REALITY

The question had been hanging over us for weeks.  "Would my wife Rosanne be well enough to travel to daughter Cindy's home in Caledon East on Christmas day?

Finally at 10:45 a.m. on Monday (Dec. 24) it was mutually conceded that "no", we would be unable to make the two-hour drive on Tuesday.  Rosanne's delicate and weakened condition had not shown sufficient improvement, in fact if anything it had worsened.  It was a painful and inevitable concession for both of us.  Rosanne comes from a traditional Ukrainian background where Christmas was not only celebrated by her family on the 25th of December but on the 7th of January as well. Ever since we were married 10 years ago, her Christmases have been spent with my two daughters and their families.  This would be the first time in 50 years that I would not spend Christmas with my girls.



SORRY ABOUT THAT
KENNY AND DOLLY!

After breaking the news to Cindy in a hasty and difficult telephone call, I realized I had to get my butt in gear if we were to have anything resembling a Christmas dinner the next day. I had no choice but to join hundreds of other frenzied grocery shoppers scrambling to beat the early Dec. 24 closing deadline.  My priority purchase, of course, was a turkey but a frozen bird was out of the question at that late date.  The store had sold out of the already cooked and stuffed variety, so I opted for a fresh young turkey breast that would do Rosanne and I quite nicely.  Stove top turkey dinner dressing was the next item on my list and thankfully the store was still well stocked.  After a quick stop in the frozen foods section, I headed to bakery goods for some minced fruit tarts -- a poor substitute for my all-time favorite minced meat pie.  Since Rosanne does not like anything minced, I picked up a mini cherry pie for her.  Next was a visit to the meat department for a cottage roll of ham, an essential for Boxing Day dinner, along with leftover turkey.

I must have picked up a few other incidental items as well, because my bill came to $101.86.

Upon unpacking the groceries at home I realized that I had typically forgotten some items.  So back I went for poultry seasoning, a can of gravy (I always like to top up my turkey drippings with either canned gravy or cream of chicken soup) and some spaghetti for that evening's supper.  I made it just by the skin of my teeth (an old family expression) as the store was about to close.

The impulse was to sleep in a bit the next morning but after all, it was Christmas and I had a lot of things to do.  As I prepared Rosanne's toasted bagel and cheese, I had a strange craving for a bowl of porridge.  "Good idea for Christmas morning breakfast," I thought.  "We always have Quaker Oats on hand" -- wrong!  Well, we had a bag alright, but with no more than a table spoon of oats rattling around on the bottom.  Come to think of it, the last time I had oatmeal for breakfast was about a year ago.  Disappointed, I settled for my usual raisin bran muffin with coffee.

Still not over the oatmeal let-down, I had another craving, this time it was for my mother's tomato aspic, another Christmas dinner tradition in our family.  Again, "no problem", I thought confidently, remembering a packet of lemon jello mix I had purchased several months before (lemon jello and tomato juice are the two main ingredients in my favorite recipe).  As I was about to rip open the small jello box, the word "pudding" bounced out at me.  God help me, it was pudding mix that I was about to dump into the already steaming pot of tomato juice on the stove, not the required jello powder.

"Don't tell me that this is the way my day is headed!" I grumbled aloud.  I needed a break and thought that I would make another coffee and join Rosanne in the living room for a while.  While I was at it, I inserted a Dolly Parton/Kenny Rogers Christmas tape into our 1980s portable radio, just to add a little seasonal atmosphere to our morning.  The first song, believe it or not, was "I'll Be Home for Christmas".  Rosanne and I looked at each other, both thinking the obvious: "Oh ya, tell us about it!"  Rosanne asked me to turn off the tape several songs later.  It was obviously bothering her -- and keeping her from her customary extended morning nap.

"I think that I might die before the day is over," she said with a weak voice.  "I don't want to, but..."
"Is that right," I interjected off-handedly, thinking to myself  "Thanks for the warning Rosanne -- no pressure there!"

I made some broccoli soup for lunch and let Rosanne sleep (in between several telephone calls from family) for most of the afternoon.  Thankfully, preparation for our turkey dinner later that evening went relatively smoothly and it turned out extremely well too, if I do say so myself.  Rosanne has not been able to make it to the dinner table for the past few months and I served her on a TV table in the living room. I too, collapsed into an easy chair with my dinner on a TV tray and subsequently fell asleep between courses (I think we both did) and woke up about an hour and a half later, but never too late for dessert, even if it was 10 o'clock at night.

Rosanne had her cherry pie and I had my minced tart and a glass of egg nog while begrudgingly cleaning up the kitchen.  Somebody had to do it, right?

I started writing this post just before midnight and we went to bed around 2:15 a.m.  We fell asleep counting our blessings -- we made it through the day and we were both still alive.

First thing on my to-do-list for morning was to go out and buy a package of lemon jello mix, this time being very careful to read the labelling...I am determined to have my tomato aspic on Boxing Day.  Better a day late than never!

SOME THINK-ALIKE THOUGHTS ON KEEPING CHRIST IN THE CELEBRATION OF CHRISTMAS

As the days dwindle down to a precious few before December 25, the media gives constant updates on dollars spent on retail sales.  We are reminded that there are fewer days of shopping left and made to feel guilty if we do not shop 'til we drop.  At the same time we increasingly see and hear the salutations "Seasons Greetings" and "Happy Holidays."

The late Pat Salmon

For some reason, the past dozen years or so I have been holding on to a clipping of a newspaper column written by veteran journalist Pat Salmon.  I always enjoyed Pat's take on issues of the day and was particularly impressed by this one piece: "Please keep Christ in Christmas".  Pat's stand on this subject, in truth, was the best that I have ever seen.  We often chatted about things that he had written, particularly nostalgic, homespun pieces which were Pat's forte.  He was published in a number of weekly community newspapers, including the Brampton Guardian where I usually picked up on him.

Pat wrote that it seemed to him that the word "Christmas" had become synonymous with shopping and our most sacred Christian festival celebrating the birth of Jesus had been reduced to "Tis the season to be jolly."  "Too many of us think that Christmas Spirit is a product sold by the LCBO," he stated.

"In our rush to please everyone, we are losing our heritage," he contended.  "I know that Canada is not a 100 per cent Christian nation, but on other festive occasions like the Feast of Eid or Ramaddam or Channakuh or Roshashanna, no one tries to water down the tradition.  I am sure that no religion in the world objects to the simple message of Christmas -- 'Peace on Earth and Goodwill towards men.'

Pat made no secret that he doubted the Virgin Birth, but did believe a very special prophet was born in Bethlehem at that time and He had a special message for us all.  "That message has been confused by theologians over the ages," he said.  "The Golden Rule has been turned into 'he who has the gold makes the rules' and 'do unto others before they do it to you'."  He simply felt that cynicism should not stop decent people from being decent.  "The detraction from the message given so long ago points to a major malaise in our material national thinking."

We agreed that society was becoming molecular in as much as our current philosophy was one of listening to single purpose viewpoints.  Fashion a decade or so ago, as is the case even more so now, dictates that if one molecule in a mass objects to the behavior of any other molecule (or the mass itself), the the objecting molecule is right.  That means the mass as a whole is wrong.

I am especially offended, too, by the fringe few who take up causes simply because of some sick self-serving need to be heard. They delight in upsetting tradition and the beliefs of others.  In taking away, they contribute nothing in return.

This new law of behavior allows single purpose groups to prevail over established customs without regard for the good of the whole.  Kind of like the tail wagging the dog.  This establishes the dangerous tyranny of the minority and imprisons the thinking and voice of the majority.  How many cases of this happening today can you think of?

Our so-called leaders, in their haste to displease no one, end up pleasing only a few.  We have no leader with a genuine opinion; we only have elected mutes who are paranoid about having their say for fear of a tirade of objections from a vocal minority.  They exclusively spew scripted party lines.  Political oneupmanship is the dominate modus operandi.

For the majority of the country that was founded on Christian faith, we should be celebrating Christmas as the religious festival that it is and not the commercial binge that is taking over this most sacred time of year.  Pat Salmon truly had a single purpose cause and it was called "Canada".  He wrote always in favor of his adopted country.  He demonstrated his love and did not care who knew it.  He believed that developed potential in this country is enormous if only the current populace would view the mass and not the molecule.

I'll let the words of Pat close out this post:

"I wish all readers a very Merry Christmas with Tidings of comfort and joy. It seems we have turned our backs on the Queen...Please don't try to shut out God.  We aren't that strong!"