Torch Pride

I’m a proud Canadian anytime, but I am really aware of it when a Canadian does something extraordinary or a special event occurs that showcases what a wonderful country we have. There has been a lot of that happening these days with the Olympics set to open in Vancouver on February 12, 2010.

I got a chance to be part of one of those special events recently when the Olympic Torch Relay went through Hamilton. Don and I stood by the side of the road on a cold Saturday evening just before Christmas. The spot we chose to stand was perfect -- at the end of the ramp off the highway where the flame had been transported from Burlington. It was the beginning of a leg of a journey, so there were hundreds of people to watch a very-excited torch-bearer ignite her torch from the small spark in a transport container and cheer wildly as the flame began its journey through Hamilton. It occurred after dark which made the flame all the more spectacular.

We were so excited that we stood by the side of the road again the next morning to watch the torch as it went through the east end of Hamilton (it spent the night in our city). The morning crowd was a much more subdued as we watched a fairly impressive parade of sponsor floats, motorcycles and support vehicles sail by before the flame. We were fortunate to wait with a runner, and to see the transfer from one torch to another. I even got my picture taken with the runner as he waited!

I know I am going to watch every moment of coverage of the Opening Ceremonies from Vancouver, especially the moment when that flame I saw run through Hamilton ignites the flame that begins the games. It’s a time when my great country gets to be showcased to the world and we will be proud!

I Am Grateful For My Family

I know a woman who recently lost her 39-year-old son to cancer. The really sad part of the story is that she hadn’t spoken with her son in over a year and was entirely shocked by the news of his death. This story evokes two feelings in me. One is compassion for the woman; the other is gratitude for the family that I am privileged to be a part of.

I have two brothers and a sister, and while we don’t always agree on everything, we value the bonds of family and interact with each other with respect and love. Together we’ve made the decision to take our father off a respirator, determined the treatment and care of our mother as she progressed through the stages of Alzheimer’s disease, emptied the contents of one house and two condos and shared the ownership of a family cottage. We’ve buried our parents and disbursed their estates with barely a squabble about how things should be done and who gets what.

This mutual respect and love we enjoy comes from our parents, who always strongly valued family and instilled in us the importance of remembering and honouring your roots. I’m thrilled to see that these values are finding their way to the next generation. Recently, we had a family dinner – just the four siblings, their spouses and their kids. Several of my nephews and nieces were excited to get together and, as you can see from the photo above, they had a great time together.

I realize that I’m very fortunate to have such a strong and united family. I don’t take it for granted and I cultivate it whenever I can.

The Small Sweetness of Alzheimer's Disease

When I visited my Aunt Marg recently and asked if she knew who I was, she responded with, “No, I don’t think I do.” But when I left her, I said, “I love you,” and she responded, “I love you, too.” Thus is the pain and the sweetness of Alzheimer’s disease.

People who suffer from Alzheimer’s disease slowly fade into a fog of inability to remember, to speak, to walk, to live. It’s heartbreaking to witness someone you love gradually lose their memory, their independence and their dignity.

But the disease has a tiny bit of sweetness because you get to see the real essence of the person without their rules and masks. My aunt was never an easy person to love. She was a spinster who excelled at a career she despised and devoted herself to caring for others, in particular my grandmother, who was house-bound. Aunt Marg had seemingly boundless self-discipline and felt a responsibility to teach her rigid rules to her nephews and nieces. She wasn’t the aunt you shared your secrets with or went to with a problem. She certainly wasn’t the aunt who told you she loved you and was proud of you.

But now, she does tell me she loves me. She giggles at silly little jokes. She thanks me in a sweet and heart-felt way she never would have before. And she revels in being touched, something that really wasn’t proper to do when she was well.

My mom died of Alzheimer’s disease after fifteen years of slow decline. Like her sister, Mom was sweet and child-like as the disease progressed. It’s a small compensation for the sadness and loss that the disease brings about but it is a small blessings for all who witness it.

La Dolce Vita

Recently, I had the good fortune to spend a few weeks in Italy. My husband Don and I immersed ourselves in the Italian culture but had much to learn about how they do things in Italy. We quickly found out that it costs more to sit in a restaurant to eat the food you bought than to take it away. And we were thrilled to find that wine is about half the price of a Coke!

I learned a lot from observing Italians. Here are some lessons I intend to incorporate into my life:

1. Italians understand La Dolce Vita. In fact, they invented “The Sweet Life.” Long meals with good food and wine, evening strolls (called La Passeggiata) with a cup of gelato, visits with friends in trattoria during the heat of the day are all ways Italians enjoy life. I can’t help but think that Italians go to bed feeling very peaceful and fulfilled.
2. Italians express their emotions freely. The first time I was in Italy, I saw two men having a conversation, which seemed to be a serious argument. I afraid they were going to hit each other! A few minutes later, they parted with a hug and a warm “Ciao!” I’ve since learned that’s the way Italians are – you know where they stand because they express themselves passionately and loudly. Those guys were probably talking about soccer!
3. Italians take good care of themselves. Many people looked like they had just stepped out of a fashion house in Milan. From head to stiletto-clad toe, they were gorgeous! It wasn’t just the clothes and accessories, the skin and grooming showed that the self-care is more than skin-deep. These men and women really do honour themselves and look great doing it.
4. Italians value tradition. The famous main piazza in Siena, is the site of Il Palio, a horse race that has been happening since 1565. With much pageantry and ritual, riders representing the contrade (districts) of Siena race around the square for the glory of their neighbourhood. Don and I were in town the evening the winners were honoured. The square was set up for a banquet and decorated with the colours of the contrade that had won the race.
5. Italians honour history. Everywhere in Italy there are reminders of the Roman empire. The Colosseum and Forum in Rome are prominent monuments to the empire, but ruins were found throughout the country. Don and I were surprised to see buildings and parks built around ruined structures and fallen columns, but we came to see that Italians left the ruins in place and built around them to show deep respect for the civilization that preceded the modern city. History had been respectfully preserved with the technology of today.
6. Italians appreciate beauty. After centuries of the Dark Ages, Europe came back to life in my favourite city, Florence. The Renaissance saw the focus of art shift from just giving glory to God to being art for beauty’s sake. Italians designed, painted, sculpted and built the most beautiful creations. Leonardo da Vinci painted the Mona Lisa, Brunelleschi built the first church dome in 500 years and Michelangelo sculpted David. Beauty abounded. Italians continue to honour the tradition by maintaining these masterpieces and countless others like them. It’s difficult not to see beauty in Italy and it’s easy to appreciate it like the Italians do.

The richness of the Italian culture and the treasures the country preserves make it a wonderful place to vacation and a very easy place to love. And a very easy place to enjoy la Dolce Vita.

The Allure of Susan

Have you seen the YouTube video of Susan Boyle’s appearance on Britain’s God Talent on April 11? So far, a week and a half later, it’s had almost 40 million hits from people who have been touched, enthralled and moved to tears by a not-so-gorgeous 47-year-old spinster with the voice of an angel. If you haven’t seen it, click here, YouTube - Susan Boyle - Singer - Britains Got Talent 2009 (With Lyrics).

Some people have said that the reason for Susan’s popularity is the surprise of having such beautiful music come from such an unexpected source. But I think it goes deeper than that. I think Susan has touched the hearts of people because she didn’t give up on her dream, no matter how unlikely it may have seemed.

Here is a woman who has dreamed of being a professional singer since she was twelve years old. She sang in some choirs, took some lessons, contributed a solo to a fundraising CD, but that was about it. Both of her parents were ill and she chose to care for them, leaving her dream deferred but not forgotten. Since her parents had passed away, she decided to take the unlikely opportunity of a televised talent show. When asked why she hadn’t succeeded before as a professional singer, she confidently said that she’d never been given the chance. People in the audience laughed and rolled their eyes. And then Susan started to sing, and those same people were on their feet with tears in their eyes.

The appeal of Susan Boyle is that she kept her dream alive for 35 years and then she had the courage to pursue it against really overwhelming odds. She is the embodiment what George Eliot meant when he said, “It’s never too late to be what you might have been.” Susan gives hope to those of us whose lives got so busy doing other things that we buried our dream deep in our hearts. She reminds us that it really isn’t too late and she challenges us to be bold as she has been, and give the dream a chance.

What Susan touches in me is not so much a long-abandoned dream as a desire to live authentically in a way that really honours who I am. What does she stir up in you? What do you dream of doing or being? Let the seemingly-impossible story of this middle-aged woman from a tiny village in Scotland be your inspiration.