The World Will Be As One

“Congratulations to all the teenage kids who organized the marches across the USA on Saturday, raised money for flights, buses, television crews, made signs exceeding their vocabulary and arranged for hundreds of thousands of hotels, that's pretty impressive for a bunch of kids”, “media puppets”

These are quotes from Facebook that refer to the thousands of students and parents that have been publicly standing up in non-violent protest of a subject they feel passionately about.

This is a group of people that has found unity in loss and belief of a change needed.  It started with students coming together using their social media and school walk outs, to say what they were feeling about fear and loss. Very quickly their supporters came to stand with them.  They gained support from politicians, media, entertainers, peers, parents and teachers.  The movement ran across their country and went international.

They are not doing anything that hasn’t been done before, standing together to share a message, standing against a force that doesn’t want change.  History has shown that getting this message out is never easy, influencing change can be harder.

It was pointed out to John Lennon,  that he was disconnected from the the Vietnam War and people didn’t understand how he could protest it.

“The whole effect of our bed-ins has made people talk about peace," Lennon said. "We’re trying to interest young people in doing something about peace.  But it must be done by non-violent means -- otherwise there can only be chaos.  We're saying to the young people -- and they have always been the hippest ones -- we’re telling them to get the message across to the squares.”

I’m guessing the Facebook comments were sarcastic when referring to the economic growth that has come from the collective support these young people have generated, or the comment “media puppets“, wasn’t referring to the national and international exposure they have received.

Young people coming together in a non-violent inspirational force,  that stimulates the economy and supports jobs seems to me to be far more important then any passive aggressive comments on social media.

“You may say I'm a dreamer
   But I'm not the only one
   I hope someday you'll join us
   And the world will be as one”

Dad Joke

Dad Joke

While Dad is riding in the the car with the kids they approached a train crossing,
Dad say “ It looks like a train just went by.”
Kids ask “ How do you know?”
Dad responds “ It left it’s tracks. “

Karma for Dad

Karma for Dad

Being a father of a teenage daughter has to be the definition of Karma.

You start to notice that she doesn’t need your help as much.  “ I can do it daddy”,  is the line that makes you the most proud, and hurts the most at the same time. The little girl that once looked up to you, now goes to her girl friends for advice and consulting.

The conversation turns to boys, but it’s not directed to you. You catch bits and pieces in passing, a name here and there, but never enough to put a whole story together, but enough to make it difficult to fall asleep.

You want to trust her to make the right choices.   You’ve had long talks about young relationships, about respecting herself,  and that we are always there for her if she needs us. You aren’t the one she goes to for answers now.   It’s the teen support group she spends all her time with that has the answers to the worlds problems for her now.

Boys, those bastards that will never be good enough for my baby, start circling like a Thom cat looking for a female cat in heat.  How do you keep the little monsters away, while she dreams of romance and love?  Some how I have to protect her from getting hurt.

I’m not sure how I survived my teen dating years with out rock salt in the ass, not that I didn’t respect the girls I dated,  I did at least, I think I did,  I’m sure I’ll hear about it after this is posted.  I know I  wasn’t the best influence for anyone then.  Knowing who that kid was back then, assures any boy knocking on our door will be compared to that kid, that makes for one hell of a handicap to work out of.  I’ll be damned if some punk with his pants below his ass, living in the burbs with an East L.A. attitude, is going to screw up the future of my hounor student and her potential for an academic and a basketball scholarship. No one messes with my baby girl.

That’s the hard ass dad, the dad, the one wrapped around the little girls finger, that dad that looks on with a pain in his chest. That’s the pain of worry, the hope, the fear, and the dream.  That’s the dad that wants her to experience all that life has to offer her, even if it means dumb ass boys.


                                   RULES FOR DATING MY DAUGHTER

                                            1. I Will Go To Jail For Her.
                                            2. Her Body Her Rules.
                                            3. You Hurt Her I’ll Hurt You.
                                            4. Never Separate Her From Her Friends.
                                            5. Be With Her Not Her Body.
                                            6. Don’t Lie To Me.
                                            7. You Get One Chance.
                                            8. I Will Go To To Jail For Her.

Dream or Memory

Have you ever had a dream that was so vivid that you question whether it may have been a memory?

I had one of those last night or I should I say, early this morning, during one of those sleeps where you were awake for a short time but was able to fall back to sleep. That’s the sleep where the dream took place.

We are all familiar with those commercial strip malls in the industrial parks. They have a drive entrance and exit creating a horse shore shape around the mall. Generally, the front of the mall has enough room for two lanes of traffic and a row for parking and a sidewalk along the front of the stores.

The dream takes place in one of those parking lots. The scene is heavy snow maybe six inches deep.
I’m driving in a white pickup truck in the right hand lane nearing the far end of the mall from the entrance. I’m being followed by another pickup. Rounding the corner of the end of the mall backing up, is a flat bed trailer of a semi truck pushing through the snow. I veer to the right into the parking area to avoid the trailer and the pickup behind me goes into the left lane next to the side walk. There are three men walking on the sidewalk near to the action.

Behind the second pickup was another semi truck, this one green, following us in, he continued forward. While passing the second pickup, the green semi bumps the other pickup up onto the sidewalk. This created a pile of snow under the pickup lifting the drivers side tires off the ground and on to the side of the building, some how the pickup continues driving forward. One of the men walking on the sidewalk was bumped into the snow between the pickup and the side of the building. He is tossed around in the snow and dragged along with the pickup. The other two men are in front of the pickup and don’t see it coming at them. Before they know it, they are caught up in the snow that is being pushed by the pickup and end up under the pickup bouncing off the side of the building and the sidewalk.

As the green semi passes me, it bumps into the side of my pickup, and then just misses the front of the semi that was backing around the corner. That’s when one more semi drives around the corner of the building, this one slams head on into the green semi hitting it at the front of its trailer, causing the green truck to separate from its own trailer.

The green semis momentum is enough to keep it driving forward towards a chain link fence in the corner of the parking lot.  With help from a pile of snow in the corner of the lot, I guess the impact of the collision with the other semi, and dream physics, the green semi drove up the snow pile and over the fence.

From what I could tell, before i woke up, the three men from the sidewalk escaped, bumped and scraped but otherwise ok.

They say dreams are trying to tell us something, if there is a message here, it’s not slapping me in the face.

The Guilt of Surviving Suicide

The guilt of surviving suicide.


My first blog comes on the anniversary week 1996 of my mother’s passing.
Terri was one tough lady. Alway spoke her mind.  Small town girl from Swan River Mb. Spent time in foster homes. Married young, had three wonderful boys ( and the grey hair to prove it ). Divorced, worked slinging beer at a biker bar, got her G.E.D. and completed a secretary course at the community college. She loved sports, competed in archery, played baseball, curled and bowled.  She followed hockey, baseball, curling, football and the olympics.  A true Manitoban, she liked her bingo. She loved her family.

Our relationship with our parents changes as the stages of our lives change. They start as our care givers and protectors. My mother at the end, was a friend.
We talked often, I had the opportunity to share lunch with her from time to time.  She would listen to my ideas of job prospects, and dreams of how I saw them developing into some kind of successful future.  She always smiled and gave me encouragement even when the plans changed the next month. We talked about future grandchildren and dreams.  She missed out on two amazing dreams that came true.

We shared a love for the Blue Jays.  If we weren’t watching together, we would be on the phone talking about a play or player.  After she was gone and even now, I still reach for the phone to talk about a trade or a game, or cause it’s one week till season starts.  I wonder what she would think about this years line up.

My mother had been sick for many years.  She had had a number of surgeries, some that had not gone so well.  As a resolute, her doctor told her that they would not do anymore unless there was no other choice, she had too many finger prints inside.  She had epilepsy that had haunted her for as long as I can remember and was one of the factors in her depression.  I remember as a child seeing her being put into hand cuffs on the living room floor because they didn’t know how else to protect someone who was having a seizure.  She lost her drivers license because of the epilepsy, several times over the years.  This was very hard on her.  She dealt with migraines that would shut her down.  Her doctor suggested that she was depressed and she being stubborn, got upset and ignored him. She, I found out later, had been spending time at the casinos and not winning.  She had started to build up some debt.

In the weeks leading up to her suicide she made a comment to me that I didn’t respond to.  She told me that she was worth more dead then alive.

I heard this same statement a second time a few years later from a friend, this time I did say something.  We talked about what it would be like for his wife and children to survive with the loss of their husband and father.  I wouldn’t presume to think that our conversation changed his mind but I like to think that it was enough to open it to other possibilities.  I am happy to say he is still with us today.

Our son has autism and deals with depression on a daily basis, and suicide is a conversation that is common in our home.  Letting our children known that they matter and they are important to us and their future, is a discussion we will never end.

The Sunday before her passing, I was curling with my step father and my mother came to watch.  She hadn’t been feeling well lately and hadn’t left the apartment in awhile.  I don’t remember the last time she came to watch a game, she didn’t go often since she couldn’t play any more.  She was dressed up with her makeup on too.  We sat and talked for a short while and after I gave her a kiss and said good bye.

The next day, with a glass of Crown Royal and the same medication that helped her with her epilepsy, she left us.

She left post-it notes on the backs of the things in the apartment that she wanted each of her kids to have. She also wrote us letters. She had a plan.

Not responding to my mother and not staying longer at the rink has been with me all these years.

She could have stayed longer.

Is it fair to ask those we love that are in so much pain to stay for us so we can avoid the pain of their loss?