a unique perspective on this crazy world

Archive for the ‘life philosophy’ Category

my dark days with Ayn Rand ;)

I am working my ass off right now.  Ayn Rand would be proud 🙂   And, yes Republicans, I built it!  Really truly.  Not the infrastructure, including the highly subsidized education that got me here, you morons, but I am FAR more impressive than Mitt or Paul… of course that great education I got was mostly courtesy of the phenomenal world changing conception invented by the Scots I believe of making free public education available to the masses.

And the scrappy side of my family who taught me to question everything.  I should be in bed but Jon Stewart is at the Republican convention and he has rarely been more brilliant.  My brain is on fire from watching television.  Who would have thunk it?

How I am back thinking about Ayn Rand.  It’s been decades…  I am not sure if you know about Ayn Rand.  She was a crazy Russian novelist who had been through the Russian Revolution as part of the displaced bourgeois.  Seems fair she ended up an atheist elitist who hated government.

I have always been a voracious reader, one of those strange people who stressed out at a young age when they realized they would NOT be able to read ALL the books in the library!  So instead I had to try and figure out what I should be reading.  I asked my twelfth grade English teacher for a list of books to read.  And she was the one who told me to read Ayn Rand.

Being young, impressionable and fairly conservative, Objectivism initially seemed attractive.  And I was fairly bright and inordinately ambitious.  Which is how I built it.  A successful consulting practice soon to go into its tenth year.  It’s all me.  No daddy money.  No mentors.  Not even a country club membership.

But I wasn’t always so smart.  I remember meeting some cute guy on a beach in Bermuda and he said some stuff and I knew he was quoting Ayn Rand and it was a bonding moment.

Thank god I got over it.  I am not proud of my Ayn Rand days.  Unlike the Republican caucus.  I am really grateful to my father.  He always talked very conservative and I know I leaned that way because I idolized him and thought he was very worldly and smart.  But, because I thought that, when he started questioning my right wing ideas, I really took notice.

And moved toward the center.  My mom and I were just talking about what a Canadian patriot he was.  And the more I watch American politics, the more proud – and relieved – I am of being Canadian.  We do need to pay attention though.  We hear their rhetoric too often and it’s easy to be seduced.

Like people are seduced by Ayn Rand.  Personally I think “The Fountainhead” and “Atlas Shrugged” are good reads.  Especially when you are young and impressionable.  But, thanks to my dad, even when I read them the first time, the critical reader in me was always in debate with the author.

Sure, it’s good to promote ambition instead of laziness.  Government can get out of control and is not inherently good.  But neither are rich people.  OMG, I am just learning why Stewart and Colbert have been talking about Ayn Rand so much and bringing up my fond memories of using “Atlas Shrugged” as a pretense to make out on a beach in Bermuda.

Paul Ryan’s views are far more scary!  And obviously he IS an idiot.  I thought his economic policies made it obvious already – but apparently he didn’t realize Ayn Rand was an atheist.  Seriously, dude?  He makes his staff read the novels anyway… some kind of sneaky Republican diluted, confused, pretending to be intellectual message… read this – but only take note of part of the message… sounds pretty Republican to me 🙂

Remember – government builds infrastructure.  Education is good.  A great education that actually teaches you to think rationally is even better.  So you can tell Ayn Rand to go to hell – altruism is good, you bitch.  Selfishness and unregulated capitalism are what’s gonna take us down.  And she is dead, having been born in likely the greatest capitalist economic sweet spot in the history of mankind, so why would she care…

Colbert is just interviewing an Ayn Rand expert.  Gotta love these boys.  Some of the stuff Ayn Rand said wasn’t bullshit.  Self reliance is good.  Mixing religion and politics is bad.  Apparently just before she died she denounced Reagan for bringing religion into politics.  So she would slug Paul Ryan.  And Mitt Romney?  She must be rolling in her grave!  That’s what you get for promoting crap values and trying to bring the world down, lady.  But thanks for the make out session on the beach in Bermuda – it was cinematic 😉

And Republicans…  Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert – and all their viewers – love you.  Keep talking crap!  As Jon so brilliantly showcased tonight, you dudes sound like Charlie Sheen.  SERIOUSLY???  I know The Expendables 2 will likely play better in foreign markets and exporting your “culture” seems to be on track, but people, you are electing the most powerful man in the world.  He should be someone the rest of the world is in awe of, not a gift to smart comedians.  If only Jon Stewart would run for President…

But first you would have to build the infrastructure to educate enough people to actually understand what he says… it’s brilliant…

http://www.thecomedynetwork.ca/Shows/TheDailyShow

Everyone with a brain should watch tonight’s episode.  It will make you feel better about the world, if only fleetingly 😉

shaping a generation

I can remember watching the moon landing as a little kid – on colour TV because my father was always extravagant about appliances.  We were the first in the neighborhood to have one.  It did make the whole adventure even more surreal.  At that age, you have only just stopped believing the moon is made of green cheese so it was almost like a fairy story.

And at the time it seemed like a fairytale to everyone.  It’s hard to believe in the days this message I am typing will be broadcast to the entire world in a matter of minutes all via the magic wizards of the internet.  In my mom’s generation, talking about putting a man on the moon sounded like crazy talk.

My mom is only a generation younger than Neil Armstrong.  I heard he died last night and he had always seemed an impressive kind of guy so I read an article about him this morning.  And was not disappointed.

In one of the world’s greatest ironic moments, the box to click on his story was sitting right next to a box about Snooki.  She had a baby apparently.  WHY does anyone care?

It got me thinking about generations.  It’s a subject that interests me a lot.  It all began when I read a magazine article a couple of decades ago that talked about the impact the generation you are born into has on your life.  I am often lumped in with the “Baby Boomers” statistically.  I think they were the first to ever get a “generation title”.

So the sociology of the Baby Boomers always seems a little suspect to me.  I would say a generation is about a decade.  Maybe you don’t cut it off precisely at ten years but, give or take a few years, that is a period of time in which the members will have the same types of life experiences and a shared identity.  Yet somehow Baby Boomers  run from those born in 1946 to those born in 1964.  Eighteen years!  So the earliest baby boomers can be PARENTS of the same generation?  That just doesn’t make sense, people!

I think it means those are the post-war years in the United States where there were a lot of babies born compared to the years before.  It points out a lot of interesting facts about generations and the people who define them.  I lived in Europe for a few years and my biggest shock was going to some of the places devastated by two world wars and seeing photos of the rubble that had been in the place I was standing in 1945.  Most parts of the world were too busy re-building or too poor to be too focused on birthing a bunch of children  spoiled enough to take some of the worst traits of the second generation of wealth and apply them to an entire country.

To be born in the 1940s or early 1950s in North America.  It was as though almost everyone was a second generation Rockefeller.  The ground had been laid.  Jobs were easy to find.  The middle class was healthy.  North Americans still seemed to think there was a place in the world for literacy.  It was a glorious time.  But, as all the children of privilege who end up dead from a cocaine overdose could tell you, having it too easy doesn’t always work out so well in the end.  It ends up in things like Snooki…

I think one of the biggest insults you could do to Neil Armstrong is to put his photo next to Snooki’s!  Neil was born in 1930.  I checked my facts and technically he was too young to be part of Tom Brokaw’s “Greatest Generation.”  But that’s the thing with generations.  We are all part of one.  And will be labeled whether we like it or not.  And we will be influenced by the economy and culture into which we are born.  It is an inevitable fact of life.  But how we respond – and what we do to improve the image of whatever generations we might get lumped into – is up to us as individuals.

I am sure there will be more talk of generations.  Certainly there will be more talk of economics and culture.  There is more to be said about the “greatest generation.”  But the real lesson we should be learning is that it shouldn’t take strife, hardship and deprivation – and a lot of dead people – to make us act better.  But humans are pretty stupid animals despite our oversize brains so it does seem that we aren’t so good at doing the right thing until we are forced into a corner.

That’s what really impressed me about Neil Armstrong.  He was famous!  Possibly more famous than Prince Harry.  Prince Harry would be wise to take a few tips from him 🙂  Not too many people’s sentences are so famous random people all over the world likely know what you said verbatim.

But he cared about space, about science and engineering, about his country, about his integrity.  He didn’t sell his soul to become a pitchman to make a ton of money off his fame.  He quit signing autographs so people wouldn’t use them for the wrong purpose and gave money to charity when he made a quick buck off something stupid (and made other people do the same).  He finally had a biography published but thought long and hard about who would write it.

He used his fame when he thought it could do good, making public statements protesting the dismantling of the US space program.   It is a little sad that the United States has become such a crass, materialistic place that this level of integrity by someone who could have so easily exploited his fame (Michael Phelps, you might want to take note 🙂 is almost as impressive and rare as the first man on the moon.

Current generation – think about it.  Your generation will be defined by the collective impression left by all its various members.  The more of you who take Neil Armstrong as your role model, the better your rep.

Your parents’ generation comes off as self-indulgent, narcissistic and materialist.  So, hey, the bar is REALLY low.  I see some of you spouting off in the comments section on the internet.  Make sure you spend at least as much time in the real world, finding things you believe in, doing something important with your lives –  and learning some grammar.

The opinions of people who sound smart  and know how to put together a grammatically correct sentence that incorporates facts carry a lot more weight.  “That’s one small step for (a) man, one giant leap for mankind.”  So much more impressive, inspiring and memorable than “WTF” 😉  And people even worry whether he said the “a”… one giant leap for literacy 🙂

reaching your potential…

I’m sure watching so much Olympic coverage is doing nothing for helping me reach MY potential but it has definitely provided lots to think about.  Just finished watching the Canadian women’s soccer (football) team go to the semi-final for the first time – after beating Great Britain on home turf.  Very exciting!  Especially now that I know a little about the game so can appreciate the skills more.  They face the USA in the semi-final.  Definitely dicey but one of the delightful things about the Olympics is the element of surprise.

http://www.ctvolympics.ca/field-sports/news/article/canada-advances-semis-with-win-over-great-britain.html

Which is why I am bored with Michael Phelps.  I feel a bit guilty.  I would never try to belittle his accomplishments.  I never watched anything from the 2008 Olympics because I was working at a level to rival any Olympic athlete’s training schedule.  So I only heard about the most decorated Olympian of all time once he was so famous everyone knew about him, whether you wanted to or not 🙂

That’s the thing.  He’s become so famous it’s become a bit tacky… and kind of boring.  I am far more impressed with everyone else in the pool who has been so successful in challenging him.  Obviously he has trained hard and is an incredible athlete but the commentators seem to have forgotten there is anyone else in the pool.  Yes, the gold medal is impressive but seriously, getting to the top three, even the top five, is a wild achievement and deserves a lot more attention than it gets.

Yet another example of how the media and the public seems to feel the twitter version of the world surpasses The Economist version of the world.  Sorry, people, but you are wrong.  You are missing so many points and illustrating the limited potential most human beings realize.  Because trying hard just seems like too much work.

There is a lot to reflect on when you watch the Olympics.  The irony that the Americans lead in gold medals and show a level of fitness that is world class while average Americans are shooting to lead the world in obesity and Type II diabetes.  The fact that over 200 countries come to the Olympics but most of the medals are won by a handful of rich countries with the resources to finance gold medals in the high technology 21st century.  The pity that only a small handful of athletes and sports will get prime time coverage and be celebrated on the world stage in a way that the Olympics is supposed to honour.

We all have to find our own perspective when we look at the world.  I think it might be partly my Canadian upbringing.  I love a self-deprecating sense of humour.  I love an underdog.  I love a smart analysis.

So one of the most interesting things I have heard so far in Olympic commentary was the comment how impressive it was that Chad le Clos was less than one quarter of a second behind Michael Phelps given le Clos’ lack of freakish genetics that would make him part fish-part man and highly adapted to swimming.

That’s the problem with just watching on the simple “who won the gold medal” level.  It’s all so much more complex.  First, the difference between the top five is normally less than a second or a point.  They are all exceptional and only occasionally is the gold medal winner much better than the silver on any real human scale.  And some are genetically lucky – or their country has more cash – or more interest in promoting their sport.  If they really wanted it all to reflect the ideals they pretend it does, they would handicap everyone to even the playing field.  Points would be deducted for genetic or economic advantage so that it would all reflect the training and effort of the athlete irrespective of the parentage or the country of birth.

Of course, nothing works like that.  And a few have written about Chad le Clos.  Good on them.  And apparently Michael Phelps was his hero.  And inspired lots of young swimmers.  So, maybe I am a little bored with Phelps – and would like to hear more about everyone else in the pool.  My heart goes out to Ryan Lochte, such an impressive swimmer and an engaging guy, but with the misfortune of being born to be in the shadow of Phelps.  But Phelps is an impressive guy and definitely deserves his celebrity a lot more than Snookie!

And more than the Royals.  Apparently if you are a member of the royal family and go to watch an Olympic game match you are a hero.  Seriously???  You don’t have a proper job and it is the least you can do to go out and support the athletes from your country.  In the best seats in the house.  I think there would be a long line who would be willing to do your “job” if it isn’t working for you.  Lucky genes with almost nothing else.  All you have to do is not act like a total jackass and you get accolades.  If only life was so lucky for the rest of us… 😉

But wouldn’t that be dull.  Personally I take my motivation from Chad and Ryan and the Canadian women’s soccer team.  From the less celebrated and more mortal who achieve astonishing feats.  One of my favourite medals these games was Brent Hayden winning a bronze in the 100m freestyle.  Big in Canada but no doubt ignored by the world.  But he didn’t make it to the finals in 2008 and this was his last Olympics.  And he made the podium!  He seemed so pleased and with such a great attitude about it all.

The message we should all be taking away from the Olympics, I think.  Sure, it’s mind-blowing the crap these competitive athletes will go through for a few minutes of glory.  And one should be respectful of their dedication and stamina – both mental and physical.  But in that greater arena we call life, are they any better than the rest of us?  Or are some of them worse?

My gold medal goes to people who make the world a better place.  It’s impossible to measure – even with handicapping.  If they get lucky, it will be acknowledged in the speeches and conversations at their funeral.  But by then, they will be dead…

So the way I measure the value of my life – and whether I am on track with my goals – is whether I seem to make other people happy, whether I am a positive influence, whether I remember to act and promote the concept of civilization.

Civilization, the golden rule and the simple message of “doing unto others as you would have them do unto you” will save the world and is the criteria on which we should all be judged – Olympic athletes or not.  We can all realize our potential to be someone who has the greatest positive impact on the world of which we are capable – and if we do that – every day – we will deserve our gold medal.  There will be no ceremony but it’s the one that really counts.

the lego blocks of self-esteem…

Hopefully life will start to slow down and I can edit the photos from my mom’s 70th birthday and write about it – and start posting more regularly.  And maybe even organize this blog a bit, which has been the intention since the beginning…

But today is what would have been my dad’s birthday.  His 70th would have been last year.  I am a big sucker for birthdays so I will celebrate in my own demented way and he gets a post in honour of his day of birth.

We’ve already talked about him in a few different contexts and no doubt there will be more talk in the future.  He was a larger than life guy, like something out of the movies.   Ours was a complicated, intense child-parent relationship that will supply fodder for thought for the rest of my life.  Some of it was him.  Some of it was me.  Some of it was the generation in which I was birthed.  Fathers played a strange role in those days and many children had complicated, often distant relationships with that parent and suffocating, obsessive relationships with the mothership.  It was just the way it was… but that is a topic for further discussion.

Today we talk about me, my dad and self-esteem.  And it is hardly the easy discussion you might envision.

My father died having never told me he was ever proud of me.  Having spent a good portion of my life criticizing me.  You would therefore likely decide he was bad for my self-esteem.  And, hey, he could have tried a little harder 🙂

But that is not who he was.  And his mother – my grandmother – scared me when I was a child because she was so tough.  So she spoiled him rotten – but teach him how to be touchy-feely with other people… I really doubt it.

My father had a very tough childhood.  He lost his father when he was 10.  All of his other siblings had a different dad.  His was far better but it still must have given him a sense of displacement.  He grew up poor and left school at 15.  He never realized how talented HE was so expecting him to give me self-esteem like an ice cream treat would have just been delusional on my part.

When I was growing up no one worried about children’s self-esteem.  They worried if they had enough to eat and if their parents abused them.  That’s how it still goes down in a lot of the world.  And far too many children DON’T have enough to eat – or are abused.  There is lots to worry about on that front.

But in the west we have all become spoiled in a way no other century could have envisioned.  So we worry about everyone’s self-esteem.  And make it sound like ice cream treats, to be bestowed on others for not acting up.

But this is where we have gone wrong.  How we have created such a crazy sense of entitlement that the western countries are trying to take down the world economically.  We don’t want for anything.  We expect everything.  And yet we still don’t have enough self-esteem if you listen to any random afternoon TV show.

Well… here’s a thought… maybe self-esteem needs to be earned, not given.  My father never gave me any self-esteem treats.  And sometimes he chipped away at it because he wasn’t feeling as confident as he should have.

But what he GAVE me was far more valuable and enduring.  He gave me a simple yet comprehensive life philosophy that comprised the very first lego blocks for building my own self-esteem.

Sure, it’s easy when people tell you they are proud of you.  But, really, that’s a little boring, isn’t it? 😉  And if you really want some solid self-esteem, it is best to collect your own lego blocks and create your own structure.  Everyone will have a different design – and you will need to add and move the pieces as you grow older, to get it just right.

But the starter blocks are someone telling you to be your own person.  That is the invaluable gift that my father gave me pretty much as soon as I could speak.  I was pretty much the only six year old telling all the other kids to just be their own people and not worry about what was popular.  If they liked something or believed in it, that was enough.  Who cared what other people thought?

It was a position that he never waivered on.  And he lived it.  As I got older and he saw me putting it into practice, he supplied the fancy blocks.  It was important to know who you were and what you wanted and not get distracted by the noise of popular opinion or naysayers.  But this did not mean you could use this philosophy to become a dictator.

You needed to be sensitive to other people’s opinions.  You should listen to them – and pay attention.  You should follow your own path without hurting anyone else’s feelings.  And you should make sure your ideas were civilized and good for the whole of society, not just for you.  So you should develop your own personal philosophy, own it, and live it – but make sure it wasn’t a crappy one!

Because, of course, if you got lots of confidence from having a lousy life strategy and bulldozing other people, you would never get any self-esteem.  Because you would be an asshole.

And I wasn’t even allowed to be impolite.

It was all incredible advice.  I have spent my life telling other people about my dad’s ideas.  He had lots.  And many wonderful qualities.  Today we are just nailing the essence of some of the best things he did for the world in his time here.  He gave people the lego building blocks they could use to lead a confident, civilized life – doing interesting things, treating others well and using their brains to try and make the world a better place.

And people, you do that… all of a sudden you realize you have a lot of self-esteem – because you earned it the old-fashioned way, the only way that really works.  Someone should tell Oprah 😉

self-assessing your level of craziness :)

Over a decade ago I thought I was an aspiring writer and attended a writer’s workshop in Toronto where I got to have Roddy Doyle tell me my writing might be publishable – and establish a friendship with a far more promising writer named Stephen.  He was one of those super smart people that I gravitate to and had a dry wit to revel any Monty Python skit.  His parting line to me was “I hope you’ll remember me taller.”

He was also the first person to introduce me to the concept… “if you start to go crazy, how will you know you are crazy?”  A great existential question.

I’m kind of hoping I am NOT crazy but as my ivory top spins around in the washing machine for the second time because of my 3am adventures I’m not as confident as I was yesterday…

Sorry, kids, I know it’s hardly fair in this Fifty Shades of Grey world that my 3am adventures involved me having ALL my clothes on!  Just not really the ideal ones… which is where the “am I turning into a crazy person” dilemma comes in.

I was in a bike room at 3am.  WHY, you ask?  As you should.  WHO decides – after an evening out, the right thing to do is head to the bike room all dressed up?  Somehow it seemed it would be funnier in heels…

It all started a few days ago when I saw a notice by the elevator that said they were doing construction in the P2 level bike room so the bikes would have to be moved.  For most people, that is no big deal.  But, irrespective of whether I am now crazy, I am definitely not normal.  So this small piece of paper almost induced a panic attack.

I’m not sure how it breaks down in the world but there are definitely parts of it where riding a bike is – at most – something you do when you are a kid.  But that is not how things go down in Deutschland.  It’s pretty normal to ride a bike.  And the bike paths are brilliant.  In my adopted hometown of Vancouver, things are much the same – except the bike paths aren’t as brilliant – but we are working on it.

So… when I got married to a German guy and he thought I should have a bike so we could go for bike rides on the weekend, it seemed an all-round good idea.  Of course, at that stage, I spoke practically no German and shopping adventures involved a lot more adventure than I like in my shopping.  I would normally be interested in the specs and the comparisons between bikes.  But this was mostly how fast can I purchase this damn bike and get it out of the store so I can avoid all the disapproving looks that I apparently live in Germany but do not speak the lingo.

Back in 2002 I returned to Vancouver alone.  But I brought the bike – cause, hey, I live a few steps from the seawall and everyone bikes in Vancouver.  Of course most people have a lot more recreational time than I do so the bike got moved from my rental apartment to the P2 bike room in the apartment building in which I purchased – and became a kind of urban legend…

I live in the kind of town where people would ask, “do you have a bike?”  Normal people would simply say “yes” or “no”.  I would say… “theoretically yes.  And I could likely ride it.  But it’s in a bike room somewhere in my building and I can’t remember what it looks like.  But I did lock it and put the key in an envelope… so, again theoretically, if I actually went to the bike room (I think it’s P2, not P1) with the key I might be able to find my bike…”

But, of course, what is the point of going to the bike room to LOOK at your bike?  And the elusive “free time” I have been seeking for a few years now has never materialized.  But it IS a bike.  And, while I have no idea of its specs or virtue, I think it’s likely a decent bike.  It seemed wrong to just leave it to die in the bike room.  And since I locked it, no one could easily walk away with it.

So, this is how we get to the sanity assessment.

Last night I was out with my friend Dora to see some theatre and then drink a great bottle of Chardonnay.  Dora is definitely not crazy!  And very delightful 🙂  And she owns a bike – and rides it!  Like normal, sane people.

I’m not quite sure how the topic of my German bike languishing somewhere in the bowels of my apartment building came up… but I told her about the notice that I had seen… and that maybe that was the sign I should FIND the bike.  God forbid, maybe I should even ride it???

Dora has a great sense of humour so she was amused by my bike story… and understood my thoughts that it would be kind of weird walking around in a bike room with a key trying to see if any of the bike locks worked… maybe it worked for Prince Charming and the glass slipper… but I was a little worried people might think I was some kind of high tech criminal… or at least a crazy person 🙂

Maybe it was the Chardonnay 🙂  Anyway, we decided I should go and look for my bike when I got home… cause it was at least 2am so unlikely anyone would see me in the bike room trying my key on all the bike locks… and somehow it just seemed far more entertaining that I would be doing such a ridiculous task all dressed up in 4 inch heels!

Back in the days when I rode a bike every day I lived on a farm so there was no need for locks or bike rooms.  They are really dirty, people!  And apparently I am not the only one with a dusty bike 🙂

The whole thing was a Monty Python sketch.  First I had trouble even getting into the bike room cause it’s surrounded by mesh so the lock is really complicated.  A good sobriety test for sure!  But I had my envelope that said “bike key” and I got the first door open and stared at all the bikes.  I had no idea where to begin…

I realize that to people who ride their bikes – and spent time choosing them – the concept of having no idea what my bike looked like would seem foreign.  I am pretty sure it is the one object I have purchased where I was just trying to get out of the store and totally didn’t care.  All I knew was that it was a road bike, not a mountain bike.

I guess if I lived somewhere else where bike riding was confined to children, it would have been a lot easier.  But this was a full bike room with all sorts of options.  After I had tried my key in a few random bike locks, I had the eureka moment that I should look for a dusty bike!

That only got me so far though.  It was getting really late and I was wandering around a bike room in heels ready to give up.  But the analytical skills kicked in.  A lot of bikes were locked together so it was unlikely to be one of them – unless it had started having an intimate relationship in the bike room I wasn’t aware of… possible but not likely…  and I had some info on the bike lock in my envelope.  It was Kryptonite.

A little deduction went a long way.  I quit just randomly trying locks with my key hoping to win the lottery and spotted a dusty looking bike in the far corner.  No other bikes tethered to it.  Kryptonite lock.  Dark maroon, purplish shade.  Giant brand…  a vague memory…  I think this might be my bike… and the key fit!

Of course, the tires were so flat I had to basically carry it all the way to my apartment…  Once I had propped it up in the living room I looked at my clothes.  Seriously, what kind of moron stumbles around in a bike room at 3am, touching all sorts of bikes as they see if they will magically unlock, and then practically CARRIES a dusty, dirty bike out of the bike room and up the elevator in an ivory shirt and heels???

Which is why I woke up this morning wondering if I had become insane and was just too crazy to realize?  The second round of laundry finished as I was typing this… and, thanks to Oxi-Clean and the good laundry skills I learned from my mother on the prairie… no one will ever know which top I was wearing when I started to go senile… 🙂

Star of the East

One of the big highlights of this trip to small town Manitoba for my mom’s big birthday was seeing Elaine.  This is her second tribute in my blog.

I can’t remember what context I gave to my other post but Elaine is in palliative care at the hospital in SwanRiver.  I was really hoping I would be able to see her on this visit.  And sometimes the stars align.  We went to the hospital yesterday.  She isn’t awake that often and she has a lot of difficulty breathing so I knew the chance to interact with her would be a real gift.  But we arrived at just the right time.  Her daughter Jill was there and graciously let us see her as soon as she was awake.

Her physical state is diminished but she is still the same Elaine that played such a fundamental role in my life and who will always have a special place in my heart.  It was such an honour and privilege to be able to talk to her in person.  And hug her.  I tried to convey how important she had been to me.  Elaine is a very humble person though so she would always downplay a message like that 🙂

She and her husband Glen played a big role in my life.  They were always so excited to see me.  They watched a LOT of slides from my trips.  They asked me intelligent questions.  They talked to me about the world – and my place in it.  They both possess this incredibly rare graciousness and warmth that I can only hope to replicate.

A great relationship should involve at least one or two great stories 🙂  My favourite Elaine story goes back to the 1970’s.  My father and Elaine’s husband were both farmers so were in Regina for the Canadian Western Agribition – the big farm show of the year for farmers from that part of the world.  The rest of us came along for the big city holiday.

None of them drank much and the women were pretty much teetotalers.  I have no idea how we ended up in the Italian restaurant.  But my mom and Elaine ordered a carafe of wine along with the food.  I think the men might have been at the exhibitions.  In any event, that evening they were peripheral.  Elaine’s daughter, my sister and I were all teenagers, eager for our lives to be more interesting.

I am pretty sure it was the first time we had seen our mothers a little tipsy.  We all wanted to be staying at the Hotel Regina, with the pool we could see across the street from our hotel room.  So, to console us, they thought they would take us to the bar.  But given that we were underage, that plan didn’t get too far.  And it was likely more fun to just all be cooped up in the hotel room.  I can’t remember if there was a can-can but “Star of the East” was definitely sung.

Both Elaine and my mom have great voices.  And everyone had a great sense of humour.  I was too young to be at the New Year’s Eve dance that year… but apparently my dad (who used to be famous for announcing things on stage) told them he was going to get on stage at midnight and announce they were going to sing “Star of the East” so they hid together in the bathroom until the time was safe.

Whether it was all true, it was great cinéma vérité and it was always one of my fondest childhood memories.

A lot of the time I spent with Elaine – and Glen – was less dramatic.  But that didn’t mean it was less meaningful to me.  I know now how spoiled I was at such a young age to meet someone who taught me so much about hospitality, grace and the beauty of the human spirit.

Elaine is one of those human beings in an elite league of realizing her potential, which the rest of us should aspire to achieve.  And she sings a mean “Star of the East” 🙂

p.s. I finished this late last night so was going to post this morning.  Just before I posted it I found out Elaine passed away last night.  But the legacy of her kindness and compassion will live on.

a european sensibility

This is a day late as I was too sleepy to do the final edit last night.

Last night I overheard the TV advertising something called Skinny Girl wine and spirits.  I didn’t bother to check it out.  I was sure the concept was that calories trumped flavour.  Being a whiskey girl I can appreciate maybe Skinny Girl vodka might be OK – but Skinny Girl wine?  Seriously?

It smacked to me of the nutso North American attitude toward our diet that has helped to increase obesity across our fair continent.  Sadly, to the detriment of health, common sense and – most importantly – pleasure…

As I write this, the concept of pleasure is at the cortex of my brain… I am sitting in one of my favourite restaurants and just arranged with David, the charming English bartender, to do a menu paired with cocktails instead of wine.

My first course is salmon grilled over mesquite.  Presentation at l’Abattoir is always exceptional.  The salmon comes with a stunning crispy skin floating independently on top, some stunning green carefully chopped asparagus, all floating in a frothy pool of anchovy foam.

David’s pairing cocktail starts with gin for the juniper to compliment the salmon.  He adds a bit of Mescal and some chartreuse to add balance and compliment the mesquite.  I’ve just eaten the likely tipsy sour cherry at the bottom of the glass.  It really complimented the salmon dish.  It also worked really well with the bacon brioche.  Seriously, bacon brioche… does life get much better?

To go back for a minute to the theme, the bread at l’Abattoir is almost worth a visit on its own.  It’s full of carbs – and fat – and pure deliciousness.  And I am no fatter today.  It’s the European sensibility.  The portions are not huge.  You don’t indulge every day.  You drink a lot of water.  Most importantly, you eat real food, full of fresh ingredients, flavour and satisfying fat and protein.

No trans fat.  No wild amount of sugar.  No empty calories that don’t satisfy so you eat vast amounts.  Europeans laugh at low fat food – and most walk away.  They know it’s mostly crap.  Instead they eat small portions of foods full of fat, flavour – and carbs!  And then walk it off by hardly ever using their cars.

Like me, they would cringe at the very idea of Skinny Girl wine… hey, most of them are skinny… drinking gorgeous, flavourful Old World wines that they sip slowly while drinking large quantities of water.  Binge drinking Skinny Girl wine would just not occur to them.

Instead, like me, they would be open to my fabulous dinner…  the chef at l’Abattoir even got me eating kale and lima beans!  Because they came together with some juicy, perfectly seared scallops and pancetta so crispy it must be what they feed you in heaven.

All the flavours complimented each other so well.  And David made me a special version of the Harvard Cocktail.  Apparently a Harvard Cocktail is a Manhattan made with cognac.  It includes a splash of club soda.  David also added celery bitters (more veggies!) to compliment the kale.

Since I was far too stuffed with rich food, I told him I would only have the cocktail for dessert.  A digestive.  Very European of me 🙂  My dessert cocktail consisted of Kraken spiced rum from Indiana, crème de cacao, sweet vermouth and aromatic bitters.

So much better than chocolate…  And it would kick Skinny Girl wine’s ass 🙂

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