Happy Canada Day

Happy Birthday, Canada! Every year, I love and appreciate this country more and more. As my city becomes a destination point for more immigrants each year, and I have the opportunity through work to speak to them, I realize how very fortunate I am to be Canadian. The young fellow working in a grocery store or the woman working at a fast food restaurant have lived through horrors that we cannot even begin to imagine. They, in turn, cannot believe the freedoms and the wealth that we have here. They are in awe of our social programs, our health care and our education system. Many cannot believe that anyone and everyone can go to school - girls and boys, rich and poor - and that is it paid for by the government, and that there is no tuition. We take so many of these things for granted! All four of my grandparents came from France to start a new life in Canada. Over the last couple years, I have found myself often thinking of their bravery and determination, and I am so thankful that they took the risk of coming to this new country so many years ago. I have such a good life here, thanks to these four risk-takers. Sometimes it scares me a little to think that a twist of fate could have led to my being born somewhere else. Many of us living in Canada are descendants of immigrants. On Canada Day especially, we should take the time to reflect on how fortunate we are that our ancestors decided to build their lives here. Being Canadian . . . it's a good thing, eh!

Rocking With Sir Paul and Friends

I wonder what John Lennon would think if he knew that his fellow Beatle, Paul McCartney, was still rocking and filling stadiums at the age of sixty-nine? Yes, Sir Paul McCartney turned 69 this Saturday! (I also wonder what John would think of Paul being knighted. Somehow, I don’t think he would impressed).
So many old rockers are still touring. Many of them, like Paul, could be home collecting old age pensions and living off the millions of dollars they have earned over their lifetime. Yet they continue to thrill audiences and perform at sell-out concerts all over the world. They strut their stuff in front of kids who were not even born when their bands were formed! What is about the Paul McCartneys, the Mick Jaggers or the Gene Simmons that makes people forget that rock is supposed to be for the young? Why do their songs resonate with generation after generation? When the Stones played in Regina in 2005, both their concerts sold out in 15 minutes! ACDC tickets sold out in Regina in the same amount of time in 2009. The Eagles, Kiss and Elton John all played to sold-out audiences in Saskatoon over the last couple years. Steven Tyler and Areosmith are just as popular now as they were twenty years ago.
How can men and women in their fifties and sixties seem cool to teen-agers and young adults? How is it that their thirty- year-old songs are still relevant to the children and yes, even the grand-children of their peers? I think the secret is that they so love doing what they do, they just haven't taken the time to grow old. I believe that the love they have for their music and for their industry is so strong that it is contagious - and every new generation wants to be a part of that magic. They have written and sang songs that are so unique and so inspiring that everyone wants to hear the songs in a live performance by the original singers. These men and women of rock and roll have shown the world that age really is just a number and that if you love your life, you'll live it to the fullest and you will keep doing what you love. So, as well as giving us music that will be forever enjoyed, these musicians have shown generations behind them how to grow old without growing old. So, Sir Paul, Elton, Steven and all the other old rockers, keep doing what you love because the world loves what you are doing! Old rockers who keep rocking . . . it’s a good thing!

The Spoiled One

Saturday was my sister’s birthday . . .my younger sister . . . the baby of the family . . . the “spoiled one”. As I look at her now with her own four children all grown and away from home, it is difficult to imagine where the years have gone. I remember when Mom and Dad brought her home. I was so excited and fell in love with her immediately. She was so tiny and perfect, all bundled up in a little blanket. I was happy to have a baby sister. Yes, I was infatuated with her . . . until she started crying and didn’t stop for two years. I still loved her and I still thought she was cute, but the all-night crying sessions which kept us all awake, sort of took the joy out of having a baby sister.

She cried so much because she had health problems and doctors were baffled and unable to find the cause of her sickness. Finally, at the age of four, they had a diagnosis for her: she had severe allergies. She was allergic to – well, almost everything. My younger brother and I felt sorry for her – until we realized that we would suffer the consequences of her illness. Mom and Dad broke the news to us that we would have to give away all our pets, because she was allergic to cats, dogs and yes, even our bunny rabbits. How we cried when they broke the news to us. We begged and pleaded with our parents to give our sister away and let us keep our beloved pets, but to no avail. We were stuck with a little sister in a house with no pets. Our farm yard was so empty without our cats and dogs roaming around and our little rabbit house sat empty.

Because she was the baby and because she was not healthy, Mom and Dad found it difficult to say no to her. It dawned on my brother and I that we could use this to our advantage. Over the years whenever we wanted something from Mom or Dad which required convincing, we would send our sister to ask. This especially worked with Dad, who normally was the strong disciplinarian. If we needed (or wanted) something from him, my brother and I would send in “the spoiled one”. Dad rarely was able to say no to her and so we learned to reap the benefits of that dynamic. In our eyes, it was a win-win situation! If she got into trouble for asking, she was on her own. If Dad said yes to her, we shared in the success. Yes, in many ways, it was good to have “the spoiled one” in our family. Even as adults, this tradition has continued. Recently, she was the one we “sent in” to convince our Mom that it was time to go into a care home.

As we celebrate the spoiled one’s birthday, I can’t believe how the years have flown. As I reflect on our childhood, I am amazed at how many times she was able to talk Mom and Dad into things the rest of us would never have been able to.

So, Happy Birthday, Spoiled One. I’m glad Mom and Dad decided to keep you instead of our pets after all (although I did really miss our dog Rex for a long time). Once you finally quit crying through the night, you turned out to be a wonderful sister. Giving up pets to have a sister . . . it's a good thing!

A Year of Good Things

Well, believe it or not, it has been a year since I started my blog! On June 1, 2010 I promised to write about something happy every week day for one year. Sometimes I had to dig deep to find happiness on a gloomy day. Some days were not happy, but I was always able to find a positive to talk about. Sometimes, I had to fit writing my blog into the end of a very busy day or the early morning prior to a busy day. Somehow I managed to do it, and I think I proved that you can “fool” yourself into being happy just by pretending you are. Along the way, I received many comments and I appreciated each and every one. I am amazed that I have had over six thousand views on my blog! When I check the stats, I find it incredible that people from all over the world have been reading my blog.
I will continue to write in my blog, but not every day. I will try to update it often, and I will continue to find positive things to write about. For those of you in the Prince Albert area, I now have a weekly column in the PA Shopper called (of course) “Through Rose Coloured Glasses”. If you are not in the Prince Albert area, you can access weekly editions of the Shopper at http://princealbertshopper.com. Between my blog and my column, I hope to continue to provide positive and happy thoughts and hopefully create an alternative to the bad news we seem to hear daily.
Looking at life through rose coloured glasses. . . it's a good thing!

Why Good Things Happen To Good People

I came across a book today called "Why Good Things Happen To Good People" by Jill Neimark and Dr. Stephen Post. Neimark is a science journalist, novelist and poet. Post is a bioethicist. They wrote the book together because they believe that giving is good for you. They claim that giving protects your physical and mental well-being. They profess that while you can't change the things that happen to you or the unkindness of others, you can create your own happiness and take care of your health through acts of generosity!

Together, they interviewed dozens of people who had suffered unimaginable fates including paraplegics, Holocaust survivors, and people who had had horrific childhoods. Those survivors who found a way to help others overcame their hardships and lived happier, more fulfilling lives than survivors who were not as generous. After interviewing people who had rebuilt their own lives by giving to others, Neimark and Post are more convinced than ever that we can make our own happiness and the best way to do so is by being generous to others. Being happy by giving to others, even is life has dealt you a difficult blow. . . it's a good thing!

The Brave and The Not So Brave

Sometimes things happen that make you feel braver than others. That happened to me today in the dentist’s office. Those who know me, know that I am not a very brave “go to the dentist” type person, and today was no exception. I had to have some weird dental surgery done (which is another story, but not a happy one so it has no place in this blog). As I was sitting in the waiting room, breathing slowly and convincing myself that everything was going to be ok, a muscular tall man in a Corrections Canada uniform walked into the clinic. The receptionist handed him a form to fill in and he brought it to the waiting area where he sat in the chair next to me. As he filled in the form, I noticed his hands were shaking. I naturally assumed he had just had some type of life-threatening event at the penitentiary and he was still recovering from an adrenal rush which was causing his hands to shake. I was then called into the office and as I sat in the chair waiting for the dentist to come in, I heard the corrections officer being brought into the room next to mine. He said to the dental assistant “I haven’t been to a dentist since the last time I was here”. She replied, obviously looking at his chart, “That was a few years ago”. “Yeah, I know”, he said “I don’t like coming to see you guys.” “Yes, we’ve been known to make grown men cry” she replied, I suspect only half-jokingly. The corrections officer went on “My teeth are probably in really bad shape because it’s been so long, but I keep putting it off.” in a voice that sounded shaky. “Well” she said, let’s have a look. Open your mouth” She then said “No, really, you have to open your mouth so I can have a look”. It was slowly beginning to occur to me that perhaps he had not just had a crisis involving an outraged inmate high on some type of inhalant. Was it possible that this man who was obviously in top physical shape and who deals every day with the worst criminals in our system – people no one else would be brave enough to deal with – is afraid of a little dental work? I found that hard to believe, but he certainly caught my interest and my ears perked up listening for more details. As a side benefit, it took my mind off my own fear.

A while later, I heard the dentist declare that his teeth were fine and he would require a cleaning and nothing more. The dental assistant, obviously having dealt with many children and grown men in her career, said, “OK, this is what I’m going to use on your teeth first, it doesn’t hurt it just kind of vibrates. Hold out your hand and I’ll show you how gentle it is”. A couple seconds, later, she said “C’mon, hold out your hand. I promise it doesn’t hurt”. He obviously allowed her to show him because she said to him, “See, it’s ok” to which he quietly replied “I guess so”. By this time, the Novocain in my mouth was working very well, and that, along the conversation in the next room, was causing me to feel braver and braver by the minute.

In the next room, the dental assistant was still cleaning the teeth of the corrections officer and asked him “You doing ok?” There was silence for a couple beats. Then she said “It’s ok to say no”. Silence again, then a quiet “No”. She chuckled and said “You know what, we are almost done here, I’m sure you will be just fine”. By this time, I had a huge smile on my face, albeit a crooked one because of the freezing. I wondered what the inmates back at the penn would think if they only knew.

My dentist came into my room then and asked me “Are we ready to go in here”. I said “Yes” and thought to myself, “You bet – bring it on. I am probably your bravest patient in the clinic right now”. Realizing that being afraid of the dentist is ok (even if you are a six foot, muscular, athletic corrections officer) . . . it’s a good thing!

A Good Day

I was driving to work this morning when I stopped for a red light in front of a school. A young girl walked across the street holding hands with a young boy who no doubt was her little brother. There was just something nice about this big sister caring for her little brother in that way. They both had smiles on their faces, and they put a smile on my face as I am sure they did for the other driver beside me. The older sister was making sure that nothing happened to her baby brother and he was happy having her take the lead. Somehow this show of love between brother and sister – the two of them walking together hand in hand – started my day on the right track. Looking at the two of them on their way to school as they walked in front of my car, I just knew I was going to have a good day. Taking time to appreciate little things like he love between a little girl and her brother . . . it’s a good thing!