Cheam

   In the late 50's and early 60's, I spent parts of my summer vacations visiting my grandparents in the little town of Gibson's Landing, on the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia, not too far north of Vancouver. From the mid-thirties on, they had owned a small cottage on a good-sized parcel of land overlooking the ocean. Getting there required a ferry trip from Vancouver and, in the times I spent there it was a very sleepy little place that I adored.
   As was common custom, they named their little cottage, calling it "Cheam", (pronounced Chee-am). They had pulled this name from a little bit of family history; my grandmother was, in turn, the grand-daughter of Lewis Nunn Agassiz, a settler who'd originally travelled from London, Ontario to B.C. in search of gold back in the 1850's and then, being unsuccessful, had settled in the Fraser Valley. The area he settled became the town of Agassiz and it was nestled at the foot of Mount Cheam. This, then, was where they pulled the name from.
   Gibson's, in the seventies, became the town they filmed "The Beachcombers" in and, with the accompanying publicity, quickly became anything but "sleepy"! During the time I visited there, though, it was a small boys dream.
   A big part of the dream was the ocean being there. At the time, I was living in Edmonton and there was no ocean or even large bodies of water in the vicinity. To get to Gibson's required a two or three day trip through the mountains and this only served to whet a prairie boy's appetite. The mountains were a place of wonder for my brother Bob and I with its jaw-dropping scenery, bears and deer showing up on the side of the highway, the picnic lunches, the souvenir shops, the glaciers, etc. Vancouver was always a marvel when we got there, Stanley Park, Lions Gate bridge, totem poles, the aquarium. Then it was on to Horseshoe Bay and we were riding on a ship! We'd land and then it was a 3 km. trip to Gibson's during which I could barely sit still. Quick trip in to the house to see Granny and Grandad and then down to the beach.

The bottom of the steps leading to Gran's beach

   The beach was a place of wonder. It seemed as though we lived on the beach, we ate there, swam there, and Bob and I always headed there whenever there was nothing going on up top. To get down to the beach you had to follow a winding set of stairs, which, in different spots, were constructed out of either stone or wood. They spilled out onto the beach at the bottom, at high tide you would almost be stepping into water. It was a fairly long beach with almost no sand but a lot of pebbles. Huge logs had rolled in on the tides and planted themselves there. There was a high bluff at one end of the beach that my brother and I were warned not to climb but, generally, we disregarded this (I have been back as an adult with kids and now understand the warnings!) At the other end, near the stairs, was a pool carved out of the rocks. This always had some kind of marine life in it and it was easy to spend an hour or two at a time, on your belly, gazing in to it and trying to corral the little creatures you saw. At low tide, it was amazing the things you discovered, simply by turning over the wet rocks, thousands of crabs and crawly things, barnacles and mussels. The rocks at this end of the beach led around to the next beach and we'd often make the trip there but it wasn't nearly the fun of "Granny's Beach".

Gibson's Landing marina, great place for a kid!

   A twenty-five minute walk from Gran's (early on in one of our visits grandad actually passed away, everything then became "Gran's") took you into the business area of Gibson's and, more importantly, the marina. I would walk there on my own, with a life jacket and a small fishing line, lie down on the end of one of the docks and spend hours catching "shiners", or ocean perch. Gran would let me take a mason jar with me and every shiner I caught went into the mason jar. I would then bring this back, show everyone and then bury them in Gran's rose garden (she had beautiful roses). Of course, the next day, due to my curiosity, I would dig them up again! They did always get re-buried though...
   There was the occasional early-morning fishing trip, generally with either my Dad or my Uncle Keith. Of course, we were always after salmon, and it became a mission of mine to catch one. Finally, the day before we moved to London, I caught one! One excited boy! I have such strong memories of salmon being wrapped in newspaper, all lined up on Gran's kitchen counter, before they were carried down to the beach to be cleaned. They would be scaled and gutted and soon there would be a whole flock of seagulls hovering over us, waiting for the bits that needed to be cast off.
   It is actually very difficult to describe the magic of the place. I can safely say it was my favourite place to be as a kid. I can still smell the smells, see all the sights and remember the excitement. I have gone back a handful of times as a grown-up and much of the magic is gone, though it now appeals in a different way. It is a much more commercial place, as a town. Cheam itself doesn't exist the way it did when we went there, has been added to and upgraded. These days, I'm sure it is worth a small fortune! If I ever win the lottery...
  

Thoughts on a Christian friend

   Unfortunately, we had the opportunity to attend a funeral yesterday. Now, normally, I will use any means at my disposal to avoid funerals and visitations. I find that there never seems to be anything truly appropriate to say and I am always fearful of saying the wrong thing and/or simply blurting out the usual platitudes one hears at these things. So a lot of rationalization goes into me trying to figure a way out of actually attending.
   Yesterdays funeral, however, was different insofar as the person whose life was being celebrated was my boss' mother and I've known my boss for almost thirty years. So really kind of a no-brainer as to whether to attend or not and I did so, happily.
   One of our close friends and co-workers, however, had a different viewpoint. She had decided she would not attend based on her assertion that there would be a Catholic ceremony in which the deceased's name would not be mentioned and none of her life story would be told. We argued with her, saying that this was not our recollection of how Catholic burial services were performed. She would not agree with us, however, and based her final decision on not to attend on her belief that the Catholic church's policy of conducting this type of service was wrong, She strongly felt that when she attended a funeral service she wanted to find out something about the person and that the person's name should be referred to throughout.

   Of course, we attended the service and found out many wonderful things about this person's life and she was referred to by name constantly. This then reinforced what we already knew to be true about Catholic funeral services.
   My reason for writing this is to briefly explore the contradictions our friend presents to us. She is a born-again Christian. She believes whole-heartedly in God and Jesus and feels that her life (and, indeed, the world) is guided by them. In this particular case, we found her decision to not attend the service baffling and contradictory as it seemed to go against true Christian values, the same values that urge you to support your friends and loved ones at times of grief. We attended the service solely to offer our support to our boss and friend (I do consider him to be a friend almost as much or more so than a boss) as we did not know and had never met his mother. Our friend's non-attendance seemed to be based solely on politics (probably not the best word and if I can think of a better one by the end of this blog I will insert it) rather than for any other reason. And this is not the first time she has surprised us with this type of seemingly contradictory notion. A few months ago several of us attended a social get-together at one of our houses. At the end of the evening, one of our group was lacking a way to get home. My wife and I were pondering giving this person a lift but were talked out of it by our Christian friend who we were also driving home that evening. At the time, her rationale was that the other person's home was way over on the other side of town. So we actually ended up leaving this person to her own devices, something which my wife and I strongly regret, to this day. Okay, the "Christian" thing to do would have been to have given this person a ride to the other end of town. Somehow or other, we let the "Christian" person talk us out of this! This, then, the paradox our friend presents us with!
   Having read all this, you may have formed a negative opinion of our friend. Please don't feel this way! She is actually a wonderful person, who has gone above and beyond the call of duty in being a true friend to us and many other people. If you're having a crisis, she is there for you. If you're moving your house, she is there for you. Problems with life in general, she is there for you and we love her for this and lots of other reasons. She has lately presented us with this dichotomy, however.

   And I wonder how universal this dichotomy might be. There are people out there who live their lives simply to do things for other people and they probably don't think of themselves as Christians. And there Christians out there who live under the veil of Christianity and yet are very closed to the world. If you have read some of my previous blogs, you probably already know that I am of the opinion there may not have even been a "Jesus", in the historical sense. Yet, I do believe that when you are judging someone's actions (if we should even be doing that!) it is sometimes helpful to ask yourself, "What would Jesus do?" Well, I'm pretty sure Jesus would have given our friend a lift to the other end of the city. I'm also pretty sure he would have attended the funeral yesterday, regardless of whether it was Catholic, Muslim or Rosicrucian if he thought he was supporting someone in grief.

   To be totally clear, my friend is a better person than I am! I can give you all sorts of examples. The difficult spot she has placed herself in is, because of her Christian posturing, that there are now these expectations on her, deservedly or not, and it is possible that her actions may be judged differently than another person's because of this. Which, of course, is probably not fair. There is a saying from the Bible that goes,"Judge not, lest ye be judged". Attitudinally-speaking, I believe this to be true. I, however, was the one who ultimately did not give our other friend a ride home that night! So mark me down as a non-Christian, for Christ's sake! That will lower the expectations!

On "amazongs" and other things...

   I have about an hour before the turkey needs to go in. Hmmmm, what to talk about...? It is very quiet here and now, Doralyn's still upstairs, asleep, hopefully getting caught up on that precious commodity. A pretty busy day ahead of us, Bryant, Ben, Adrienne and Grandpa coming over for Christmas dinner a little bit later on this aft. The Dafoe boys will be rejoining us as well, so it will be a full and busy house!

How my day begins...

   Had a wonderful Christmas Day yesterday, pretty excited kids in the morning, lots of surprises and goodies. The boys headed to their dad's in the afternoon, D. and I spent a little recuperation time and then headed to Oma Buren's, after picking up my Dad. Had a wonderful meal there, Oma really outdid herself, and after supper spent some time sampling grand marnier and a couple of different kinds of brandies. Lots of flirting going on (for a bunch of "oldies", and with apologies to D.) but I am simply going to pretend it was the dinner "glow"!
   I guess this was the first time Oma had really "entertained" since the death of her husband, Cays, some years ago. She came through with flying colours and we all truly enjoyed ourselves. Now if I could just get Grandpa doing the same thing... Well, we'll work on it!
   I have an amazong wife! Okay, that was a typo but when I looked at it, it seemed like an amalgam of "amazing" and "amazon" so it is really a better term to use in describing her! She has been relentlessly busy for over a month now, working on presents for all the kids and many of our friends. On top of which we are also looking at needing to downsize the house, so lots of things to go through and sort. And she has been relentless and amazing to watch. Just one of the many reasons why I love her so damn much!!
    Grandpa just called, wanting to know what time we were picking him up this aft. This would be probably the fifth time in the last 12 hours that he's asked this same question. His memory's going but no problem, it's not hard to say "4 o'clock" one more time! At dinner last night, he asked me how long D. and I had been "going together". Had a bit of a chuckle over that one as D. and I have been married over a year and a half now, and Grandpa was at the wedding! But he seemed quite happy that we were now married!

...and, wonderfully, how it ends

   Anyway, it's about time to get started on the turkey. Gotta head out to the cold garage and try and find the roasting pan we use once a year. Then find a recipe for sweet potatoes. Make sure everything else is all set to go so that D. can just sit and knit as much as possible today--if she's not busy amazong us!

Poem 2

   A poem that seems appropriate at this time of year, and as another one of our soldiers' bodies has been repatriated.


December twenty-sixth
(this game with my conscience)


When they simulate
the blood as well,
provide snap-top
plastic coffins
with miniature flags
to drape over them,
hands that separate from arms
and men from sons
then my conscience will win out,
knowing there have been
no niceties here, that
at least one time we
have dealt again with
useless, ugly
endings.

Until this happens, though,
I am the factory
of plastic armament,
have contracted with my son
to put together
war toys.

Thoughts on the Season

   If nothing else, Christmas is one of those times of the year when some reflection is done. In your mind perhaps your year is summarized, perhaps you are even one of those people who sends out letters to your friends and relatives describing the events of the past twelve months and all of what you thought were its significant moments or achievements. It is also a time for looking ahead, perhaps you work on your New Years resolutions, make plans for improvements in your life.
   I do tend to engage in some of all this, although there is no real reason why it should not be an ongoing process throughout  the other months of the year. What I do know and what is common knowledge to most everyone else is that your stress levels get ratcheted up enormously at this time of year. I invariably find myself wondering just why this occurs but, more importantly, why I  let it. I swear it'll be different next year, so help me!

   A couple of blogs ago, I talked about reading "The Pagan Christ" this past year and mentioned the theory that its author, Tom Harpur, subscribed to; that there may not have been an historical Jesus. Well, I do find this quite credible and it does shed a different kind of light on this particular season. Jesus may not be the "reason for the season" because there may not have been a Jesus!
   So, for a variety of reasons and including the afore-mentioned brand new one, I find myself pondering the meaning of Christmas once again. Giving is never a bad thing, wanting to be with family is never a bad thing and pondering the positive changes you'd like to see in your life is never a bad thing, either. But why save all this for December, I wonder? If the need out there is a real need, then why aren't the Salvation Army kettles operating year-round? I'd be just as happy to toss in a couple of bucks in June as at Christmas time! I'm also pretty sure low-income kids need gifts throughout other months of the year, each one of them has a birthday, I'm guessing! The mind-boggling part of it is that we make ourselves maybe $500 (just a random number I picked, believe me!) poorer so that we can make our friends and neighbours $500 richer, in terms of merchandise. Of course we become $500 richer because our friends and relatives are getting $500 poorer buying for us. A vicious circle, for sure. The end result, worldwide, is that billions and billions of dollars go sideways, for Christ's sake! Yep, we don't need to spend what we spend and we don't need to get what we get. To quote a line from "Jesus Christ Superstar", "think of the things you could do with that money!"
   At some point in my life that I can't really pinpoint, whether or not Christmas was a "success" for me depended on whether or not someone was surprised or delighted with a particular gift I might have gotten them. I did not base my happiness on the pile of goodies at my feet Christmas morning. There has been the odd Christmas morning I dreaded, simply because I was not excited about anything I'd bought for anyone. They were hard to get through. More often than not, though, I have been almost as excited at the prospects of my loved ones opening their gifts as I could remember being as a child in anticipation of what was to come for myself. It is one of the small things I appreciate about myself as an adult and I imagine that many others feel the same way. Kind of a shame, though, that this happens on such a limited basis, calendar-wise.

   So, I guess I do want to wish people a "Merry Christmas", whatever it is and why. May we all  let the stress float away and may we all have Scrooge-like redemptions! May we all self-reflect and like what we see!

Poem 1

   As promised (threatened?), a poem to fill some kind of void here. First poem I ever had published, in a small literary mag, Canadian Author and Bookman. Probably helped that the poetry editor, Sheila Martindale, was a Londoner!


Small Talk With The Lover
Of The Woman You Love


Is something that requires practice
And inside switches you can trip.
The light of longing is off now, you turn on
To the easy talk of Tolkien
And watch his lips move around the empty lines
Imagining how they move
Around and over her,
Surround and hover there.
You are measuring
In such a furious way
That the room goes foggy around his head.
The damn smile on your face belies
The x-ray vision you're using on him now
  (would that it were silver nitrate,
    cauterizing every thought and knowledge of her,
    leaving burnt and blinding eyelids
    where once were his eyes,
    looking back at you)

I am a poet (and you didn't know it...)

Poet's Corner-Westminster Abbey

   Or at least I used to be. Back in the mid to late eighties I found myself renewing a love of poetry that had been somewhat kindled in high school but then had lain dormant for a very long time. Feeling some sort of creative urge I signed up for a creative writing course at Fanshawe College. We studied a variety of writing styles and genres and I found myself gravitating back toward poetry. Our teacher, Pam Tikalsky, strongly urged me to start sending things out to literary mags. So I did. I went through a lot of little rejection slips and was about to call it a day when suddenly something was accepted! It was kind of hitting that one shot in golf that keeps you coming back for more pain and frustration because more pain and frustration was what I got. Many, many more little rejection slips and then finally something else was accepted. By the end of it all, I had nine or ten poems published in very well thought of literary journals here in Canada (and one in the States!)
   At the time, pretty well every keen observation, random thought or strange idea was fodder for a poem. It seemed as though I did nothing but write. Gradually, I think I simply ran out of things that seemed worthwhile writing about. About that same time I also became interested in music and would sequester myself and my electronic keyboard down in the basement, learning how to play it (no formal keyboard training) and writing very orchestral pieces of music. My wife at the time referred to it as me doing the "Phantom" thing, a reference to the Phantom of the Opera which was very popular at the time. This, then, became the place all my creative juices flowed to and very little need to be writing.

   Lately, though, the desire to write has returned (hence the blog) and hopefully something poetic will come out of it as well. My plan at this point is, when I perhaps do not have a blog subject in mind, to throw a poem out there instead. A little change of pace...

The Pagan Christmas

   I occasionally envy the dead. As much as I enjoy life and living, I envy them for the knowledge they have that I don't. I have always been curious as the nature of the afterlife, if there is one, but unfortunately there is only one way to discover this. I believe that all the great mysteries of life will somehow be revealed at this time and I'm dying to find out. Just not fast enough.
   Earlier on this year, I read a book called "The Pagan Christ". It was written by Tom Harpur, an extremely well-known and highly regarded theologian and spiritualist. He is a Rhodes Scholar, T.V. personality (Harpur's Heaven and Hell) and his bio is rather academically astounding. The book is an extremely ground-breaking one as it flies in the face of what is generally regarded as the accepted story of Jesus Christ ie. the virgin birth, the performance of miracles and the final execution. In examining many other religions, he discovered that this story is repeated (different names and faces maybe) in many other religions, most of which pre-date Christianity!  He makes particular reference to the Egyptians, who incorporated this story into their religion at least a thousand years prior to the birth of Christ. Harpur spends much time delving into the similarities between all these religions and refers to the "Christos Myth", the general term for this narrative (birth, teachings, death of a central deity) which permeates these other major religions.
   It is a fascinating read, albeit a very heavy one with much information and cross-referencing to digest. But it is well worth the time. Possibly the most astounding thing to come out of the book is Harpur's belief that there may not even have been a historical Jesus of Nazareth! He bases this on a number of things but one of the most telling is his assertion that there are no non-Christian accounts of Jesus ever having existed. During a time period when they were keeping pretty accurate historical records there is no mention made of Jesus other than by people who came to call themselves Christians after his purported death. Apparently the Romans made no mention of him as a living person, nor is he mentioned in other historical chronicles at the time. Pretty absorbing stuff to read.
   What is fascinating through all of this, though, is that Harpur, once he was able to wrap his head around these ideas in an objective way, actually believes that his spirituality has been very fundamentally strengthened. Because his "Christos Myth" is not so intrinsically tied to one central character during one very brief period of time it is much easier to see it in a more universal light. The commonality of the myth suggests to him that there may be a sounder basis for belief than even the Bible can offer.
   I find myself thinking about this quite a bit as Christmas draws nearer. I had always believed in Jesus as an historical person and the stories about him as reasonably accurate, up to his death. Whether he was the "Son of God" I don't know, but suspected he wasn't. I have my own theory on the existence of a god but I will save that for another blog. I do know that many learned people believe that Jesus of Nazareth was born much earlier in the calendar year and that at some point the celebration of his birth got moved to coincide with some kind of pagan festival (winter solstice?) I do not doubt this, either. It does have a revisionist ring to it as does "The Pagan Christ". I do believe that I will find out the answer someday. And if it's later than sooner, that's fine too.

The Aging Athlete

I gave blood a few months ago for the first time in a long time. If you are a "first time" giver, they do a very brief physical work-up before you donate. This doesn't involve much more than checking your BP and pulse rate. The BP was fine (it hasn't always been that way!) but when it came to the pulse rate the nurse developed this look of concern. Apparently the look of concern had to do with the fact that my pulse rate was 48 and, as a guideline, the don't let people donate whose pulse rate is below 50. She then asked, "Are you an athlete?" Okay, I've never been asked this before in my life. I told her I did play ball hockey 2 or 3 times a week and this satisfied her! So now I'm an athlete!


And an aging one at that. As mentioned, I do play a lot of ball hockey. I am always the oldest guy there, no matter whether it's a pick-up game or in an organized league. Furthermore, I hold my own. I am currently three months shy of 58 and I play in a league with 20- and 30-somethings. Generally I play goal and enjoy the anonymity this provides. Nothing like 20 pounds of equipment and a goalie mask to disguise someone (to all you bank robbers out there--stick with the ski mask!) Quite often during the post-game handshakes, after I've discarded the mask, I will come upon an opposing player whose jaw drops when he realizes his team just got beat by an old guy! Occasionally, an opponent will even say something like, "Nice game, sir!" Which kills me! Not only that, but I also occasionally play forward or defence and I think, for the most part, that I hold my own there as well.


I have been blessed by good genes. My dad is nearing 85 but looks and acts like someone in his sixties, or even younger. We get out and play golf once a week in the summer and he even beats me on a hole every once in awhile. And he can't understand why he can't still hit the ball as far as he could back in his thirties. He just can't figure this out. No amount of me explaining the aging effects on a human body will dissuade him from this disappointment. And perhaps this is as it should be, a body in denial of the aging process may likely age much more slowly than a body in total acceptance of it. This is how it feels with me. I do have aches and pains these days that I don't remember from my younger ones, but I really don't feel any different. Part of it is knowing your limitations, I guess. I have a better understanding now of how much rest my body requires between playing and I really can't just walk out on the floor and start to play like I could back in my teens and twenties (anybody here remember stretching before a road hockey game when you were a kid...?) so there is that much of an acknowledgement of the aging process.


I have occasionally run into the odd person with a dim view of my competing with the youngsters. Generally this centers around the appearance of my desperately attempting to hold on to my youth. I can see where you might think this. I, on the other hand, prefer to think of it as simply continuing to do things I've always enjoyed doing. Should you stop doing things you've done all your life simply because you hit some age milestone? Hell no! Which is not to say go out and be reckless. For God's sake make sure that you're not going to drop dead of a heart attack (a really bad way to interrupt a game!) or endanger anyone else around you but, apart from that, go out and enjoy!!


Oddly enough, the older I get, the better I am becoming. I am better in goal now than I ever have been. I am also a better golfer. I got into both of these sports back in my early forties and started the learning curve very late in life. I am still enjoying the effects of being able to learn and still have a body that is able to apply what's been learned. I suppose at some point that the learning curve will begin to spiral downward and then intersect with my decreasing physical abilities and, at that point, these types of activities may not be enjoyable anymore and may then come to an end. Don't feel like this will be anytime soon, however!! 

Putting the "fun" back in Dysfunctional

  I am from a dysfunctional family. And I say that insofar as my mother suffered from deep and troubling psychiatric issues and the three men in the family could very easily be described as "distant", in a variety of different ways.

"Portrait of a Dysfunctional Family"-Jerry Kirk

   Somehow or other, though, I grew up happy. I suppose that there were reasons why I very easily could have grown up otherwise and, yet, I didn't. When I stop to think about it, it very well could be that, through all the "dysfunction", I never got the feeling I wasn't loved. This sounds too simplistic, I'm sure. I am also pretty sure, though, that it is dead-on. Some crappy things happened all around me but I never was  given the feeling that I was the cause or root of them so I did not take that on.
   We all have needs. They start out pretty simply-- feed and hug me. They get a lot more complex (or do they?) as you get older. If they get met in the right way at the right time you make it through just fine. At some point, you then realize that you have the power to meet (or deny) other people's needs. And then it gets trickier! It's very tempting and easy to sacrifice one set of needs over another. As I was pondering the next sentence, our cat, Squeaker, came up to where I was sitting and made it very clear the her need at that time was to be picked up and cuddled for awhile. I then balanced my need to be writing against her need for attention and picked her up. Couple of minutes later and she was off again, I'm back to writing and both our needs were met, in a very satisfying way to both of us. Way too simple!! Unfortunately, there are humans out there who need tending to, as well!
   So, in spite of all the dysfunction, I think I got my fill of "feed and hug me" as I was growing up. It got a little more difficult as I became a teenager and got to the stage of realizing I might have any power or control over another person's needs. I then struggled with trying to decide what I had some control of and what was way beyond anything I was able to change. This is what happened with my mother, about the same time I became the tiniest bit cognizant of what she was dealing with, she was gone. Through everything, she had met my needs. About the same time I began to figure out what hers were, there was no time left to do anything about it.
   Or was that my job? And could it even have been done? I'm not sure that "yes" is the answer to either of those questions.


   So...my family was dysfunctional. And I'm still happy. My dad would likely tell you that he is happy. My brother, I suspect, would do the same. Maybe I'll ask them and let you know!
   In retrospect, are there any "functional" families out there? Is there a definition for "functional". If the kids in a family all end up more or less happy, does that make it "functional"? Or do you go by how their kids end up? There are some compelling reasons why my family might have been called dysfunctional. My wife, Doralyn, has some compelling reasons for saying the same thing about her family. It is, obviously, not hard to look at any family and find elements of dysfunction. At times, the surface doesn't need to be scratched all that deeply.
   Yesterday, we attended my in-law's family Christmas get-together. A big family gathering with all the attendant familial tensions and concerns (Jesus Christ, why is your birthday such a stresser?!) and, basically, we all had a wonderful time! We all have our traits, quirks and tendencies but what I observed and took part in was a family that was joyful! And I have been around them enough to know that this does not only happen at Christmas. What I do know is that all members of the family have the ability to transfer happiness, from the very largest to the very smallest. And not only do they have the ability, they also have the willingness.  
   So I offer this definition of a "functional" family; it is a family whose members have the ability and willingness to transfer happiness.

The Cleavers

   You're right, way too simple-sounding! Does it take what you're sure is a "dysfunctional" family and make it "functional" again? Maybe, maybe not. Take a look around and apply it. See what happens.

"I was there when..."

   As my boys were growing up and becoming a little more interested in sports and sports history there were frequent times when an historic sports moment would be mentioned and quite often I was able to say, "I was watching that game on T.V. when so-and-so broke that such-and-such record!" And I found I was quite proud of being able to say that, for some strange reason. I imagine that in some way it gave me just a little ownership of the actual feat, almost as if the event might not have happened had I not been watching it at the time.
   At some point back then, it occurred to me that way back in the olden days, prior to the mass media explosion, many an oldtimer might have professed to "having been there" at some memorable sporting event (Bobby Thompson's shot heard around the world most immediately comes to mind as an example). That was at a time when you actually had to be there to experience the event at its fullest. These days, you fully experience an event when you view it over and over and from a variety of angles and at different speeds. This is "being there", these days!
   When I am in a sports milieu these days, I am often the oldest one in the group and have had the advantage of having seen many of sports most memorable moments, as they happened. It is not uncommon to be surrounded by younger Toronto Maple Leaf fans these days and be the only one in the group who can say they actually watched the Leafs win the Stanley Cup once!
   The following is a likely incomplete list of some of sports historic moments that I witnessed "as they happened".

Henderson's '72 Series-winning goal

   Need to start off with Henderson's goal in the '72 series. Never have I jumped so high! Headed off on my bike to classes at Western right after that and the world was fine!
   Hank Aaron beating Babe Ruth's all-time homer record. Given the prevalence of steroids in baseball, I think it was the last truly significant home run record.
   Bobby Hull beating The Rocket's record for goals in a season. Phil Esposito beating Bobby Hull's record and then Gretzky beating Espo's.
   Carlton Fisk's "waving the ball fair" home run in the World Series against the Reds.
   Bill Buckner's between the legs gaffe, different World Series.

Buckner's infamous gaffe

   Bob Baun's broken leg O/T goal against the Red Wings (pretty sure I was rooting for the Wings--I was a huge Terry Sawchuk fan!)
   Bobby Orr's flying-through-the-air Cup-winning goal. Even back then it didn't strike me as being overly dramatic, the puck was in the before the trip and the Bruins had a 3-0 series lead anyway.
   U.C.L.A.'s record basketball win streak coming to an end (against Notre Dame?)
   Cowboys-Packers Ice Bowl NFL championship. Watched the game-winning touchdown on a T.V. in black-and-white at Fleetway 40, when it used to be in the Westown Plaza.
   Joe Namath winning a Superbowl.

The "Ice Bowl"

   The "Immaculate Reception"-Franco Harris of the Steelers vs. the Oakland Raiders. These days, there would have been ten different camera angles and we would know for sure just how "Immaculate" it was.
   All three of Secretariat's Triple Crown races.
   Pete Rose breaking Cobb's hits record.

Orr's O/T Cup winner

   Canadiens-Red Army New Year's Eve game. Hell of a game but whatever I was doing home alone in a bachelor apartment on New Year's Eve, I'll never know! (kinda glad I was though)
   Listening to Clay vs. Liston on the radio.
   Borg vs. McEnroe at Wimbledon.
   Being able to say I watched Richard, Howe, Sawchuk and Orr.
  
   Okay, I suspect there are even more and I may make mention of them in future blogs. Good evening!

Welcome to "Neanderings"!

      Hello and welcome! And if you're wondering where the name "Neanderings" comes from (apart from "out of my head") it basically is a combo of "neanderthal meanderings", which is to say you will read nothing of strong intellectual value and there will generally be not much of a theme.

     People near and dear to me (by which I mean my wife, Doralyn) have been suggesting for awhile now that I should be doing a blog (or writing a novel, anything really) and this has co-incided with my own desire to be writing something. So here I go! And having said all that, here I stop! But just for tonight....