Time for Grisham

It is finally too cold to go for my usual walk outdoors. Strong winds and an arctic air mass have our temperature at -20C with a wind chill of -33C, enough to freeze skin in a few minutes. The dog cannot tolerate this cold either, and while he bounds outdoors with enthusiasm, he is barking to come in after he is finished his duties.

I saw an ice rainbow around the sun as it rose today, shining through the blowing snow that rose into the atmosphere. I took a short walk at noon by the river as it is somewhat protected by the banks and bluffs. The snow that lodged in the teasel heads turned them into little directional compasses showing where the prevailing winds came from.

We are sharing this cold air mass with our neighbours to the south after weeks and months of enjoying warmer air coming north from the Gulf of Mexico. It is cold in the house, especially in my office and our bedroom as both rooms are over the garage. The floor is always cold here in this weather. Yesterday I wrapped myself in two layers of clothes with heated rollers in my hair, a blanket around my shoulders, and my warm laptop on my knees. A hot bath before bed guaranteed warm feet for sleeping. (I have actually been colder in Mexico in December, where the temperature dips to 0C and there is no central heat available!)

I have a folding treadmill, which usually stays upright in the corner. I find it tediously boring and the best way to make time drag. Thirty minutes seems like two hours, unless…
… I read John Grisham. Each winter, when it gets too cold to be outdoors, I re-read his novels while I walk the treadmill. They are well written, easy to read, and the action is fast enough that I do not notice the time. The page layout and print is the right size for reading while moving. My favourites are The Street Lawyer and The Testament, with The Client following close behind. There have been several copy cat lawyer novels that have followed Grisham’s success, but in my estimation, few are as well written.

Indoor exercise can be a drag, and in this weather it is easier to sit on the sofa eating lots of warm comfort food. One of my patients who lived in Manitoba told me I was a wimp. “This isn’t cold at all! Why I walked to school and played outdoors when it was 40 below,” he cajoled.

Well tonight is too cold for a walk, and too cold to sit on this bench on the hospital grounds, so I will be saying hello to the treadmill and The Testament for the first time this year.

Children, Chopsticks and Change

I had the privilege of meeting a very interesting 88 year old man this week. He was referred to me for treatment of his sciatica, and when I went to the retirement home to visit him, he was confined to his room with a cold. He was sorting through some old photos in a room cluttered with numerous books, magazines, a computer, scanner, an old autoharp, and other things that demonstrated his creativity and ongoing quest for knowledge.
This Welshman had spent his childhood in Angola where his father ran a mission that included a church, school and hospital. After he finished university in Canada, he returned to Angola until the Portugese Colonial War forced the mission to close in the early 1960’s. Angola has had many years of violence since he left the country. It achieved independence from Portugal in April 1974 and then was devastated by a 27 year civil war where over 500,000 people were killed. The Soviet Union, China and United States all had stakes in the conflict, so in truth, it was an extension of the Cold War. The war ended formally in 2002 and the country is trying to establish a democratic government.

My patient has kept in touch with friends in Angola over the years. He is proud of the fact that some children who attended the mission school over 40 years ago are now working in the new government. He sees the seeds of knowledge and the values taught many years ago now bearing fruit in a positive way.

I have taught Sunday School for over 25 years and have watched many children grow to adulthood, establishing careers, starting their own families, and becoming responsible citizens. Children cannot help but learn and are like sponges, absorbing whatever they hear and experience. I love the enthusiasm with which they explore new ideas and how changes that come with maturity are readily embraced. It is so important for youth to see beyond themselves and to interact with a world that is changing rapidly.

Today we talked about the countries in South East Asia. I took some sticky rice, fish sauce, lime and Asian hot chili sauce to church and the children had a great time trying to eat with chopsticks. They were engaged, eager participants who posed good questions and thoughtful answers in our discussion.

I am currently reading The World is Flat by Thomas L. Friedman. He describes a tiny world, flattened by globalization, free trade and technology. My patient is living in a vastly different world than the one he entered almost a century ago. He has kept pace with change, believing that he has made a difference in the lives of people he has touched over the years.

These children will have to adapt to the rapid change that is already happening. Some will be on the crest of the wave of change, and others will be following their leaders. Every one of them is beautiful and gifted in a special God-given way.

Chocolate!

A few months ago I read an article about a workplace accident where an employee fell into a vat of melted chocolate. He managed to “swim to shore” and was rescued unharmed. If I could choose an accident, this would be it!

My father once worked for a company called Smiles and Chuckles, the original makers of Turtles. His job was in the lab, testing and developing products. The entire neighbourhood was enveloped in a chocolate aroma and Dad’s clothing was also saturated in the smell.

The Smiles and Chuckles factory closed and the building was demolished. A couple of years ago we visited Hershey, Pennsylvania and toured the huge chocolate plant there. It brought back memories of Dad’s job. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is a book/movie that appeals to chocoholics like me as is the movie Chocolat. (Johnny Depp :) and Johnny Depp :))

A columnist at our local newspaper had a chocolate tasting party recently and the results were published today. Unfortunately, even though I would have been a valuable member of the panel, I was not invited, so I did some of my own sampling today at home. (I went for a long walk early this morning in the bitter cold. Calories are a measure of heat, and I needed a lot of them to keep warm!)

I love good chocolate so it is never hard to buy me a gift. Some of my favourites are available only in United States and I have to put in my order when anyone plans to cross the border. I have been known to drive to Niagara Falls NY just to buy chocolate. My husband went to Michigan in October, and I am still nibbling away at the treats he bought for me there.

I prefer dark chocolate, pure and unadulterated. European chocolate from Belgium, Germany, Switzerland and France, sets a high standard of quality.

Lindt Excellence offers bars of milk chocolate, 70% and 85% cocoa. The 70% bar is my pick.

Ritter Sport is made in Germany and many varieties of square 100g bars are available. The 50% and 71% cocoa bars are excellent.

Dove offers a wonderful dark chocolate that is not available in Canada. I like the little red foil squares that have a silly quote inside like “Laugh uncontrollably…it clears the mind.” I am down to three of these right now, a dangerously low inventory.

Hershey offers a huge variety of sweets, but the Special Dark chocolate kisses are not available in Canada either. They are not as creamy as Dove dark chocolate, and I still have an unopened package of them here. They are portion control at its best.

I was given a box of Laura Secord miniatures by a coworker for my birthday. They are featuring more dark chocolate including a delicious chocolate dipped ginger chunk. And I received a bar of imported French chocolate as well, 1848, that will have to be opened on another day.

Some chocolate, like the new Cadbury Dark Thins are not worth even a nibble. I tried one this week and it was like taking a bite of tasteless wax. It went into the trash!

Chocolate, especially the dark varieties, is supposed to have health benefits. I really don’t care, because I don’t need an excuse to indulge!

February

The first floor of the hospital has large windows that look out onto a central courtyard. On some of the windows brightly coloured panels of blue, red and yellow feature a collection of poems, some written by previous residents, and others written by published poets. I often take my ambulatory patients down here for a longer walk. Most of them walk slowly, and I read the verses as we amble along.

I haven’t had the time to read all of them yet, but noticed this short verse written by a Canadian poet, Charles G. D. Roberts.

In spite of the persistent cold weather over the past three weeks, local streams with a fast current are still at least partially open. On a very cold day we walked through the fields and beside this stream at our local Pioneer Village. The tracks along the path were interesting…a rabbit, likely a very large hare, ducks, cross country skiers, and something unknown that dragged through the snow leaving a winding trail along the bank of the creek.

There is plenty of life here, even in the winter, but the creek does whisper the promise of spring to come.

Mennonite Country

I took the last of my 2006 vacation on my birthday this week allowing me the luxury of sleeping in (until 7AM) and having a leisurely pot of tea with my breakfast. At noon, I drove to my husband's workplace outside a small community north of here, right in the middle of Mennonite country. He often brings home fresh produce, poultry, eggs and maple syrup from the farmers who stop in at the metal fabricating shop. We went out for lunch, and then I drove around the area after he returned to work.
The New Jerusalem Road is a journey into the past. The neat farmhouses have no electricity lines running in from the road. Windmills tower above the barns and out buildings. Neatly printed signs at the end of lane ways advertise fresh eggs, potatoes, fabrics, maple products, but....NO SUNDAY SALES.

I drove by a parochial school where the children, boys in overalls and girls in long dresses, played a co-ed game of shinny on the ice rink in the yard. It felt intrusive to get out and take a photo at that moment. Next door to the school was the Jerusalem Buggy Shop and I took this picture of the sign and the school after the children went in for class.
Down the road I watched a farmer with his pair of work horses as they hauled manure from the barn out to the field. The wind was cold, and the horses and farmer stood in similar postures with their backs to the wind. The farmhouse was beside a small creek that ran under a single lane bridge on the roadway, and a line of freshly laundered clothes blew stiffly in the cold.


I passed a number of horse-drawn vehicles, some like the classic black covered buggy shown above, and other open topped, rubber wheeled wagons with red-cheeked drivers. Some were driven by a lone woman, out running errands or on her way to visit a neighbour.
On the way home, I stopped at the livestock exchange and sat at the back of the auction room as farmers bid on cattle. I sat very still and did not raise my hand even to scratch my nose in case I would inadvertently buy a cow. The auctioneer, in his rapidly spoken English and Pennsylvania Dutch dialect, made no sense to my ears at all.
Driving back home on a busy expressway was a real contrast to my leisurely trek on the country roads. I am not ready to give up modern conveniences, but a little lesson in simplicity is needed once in a while.

Winter playground

There are many winter activities to enjoy now that the snow and ice have established themselves here in our part of Canada. Many people pay for seasonal ski passes and they must be relieved that their money was not wasted with the late winter arrival. Today I drove by many snowmobile trails north of the city. They were well used as they wound through meadows, bush and farms. Downhill skiing and snowmobiling require expensive equipment and club fees. Cross country skiing and snowshoeing equipment is pricey, but these activities can be done free in public land.
Skating is an affordable sport if done outdoors, but renting ice time in an arena for figure skating and hockey is expensive. Many families spend hours each week in arenas watching their children on the ice playing hockey or taking skating lessons.


There are plenty of free and fun things to do in the snow. We have a large hill near our home that is very popular with young tobogganers. It is a long climb to the top and the descent gets rough and icy from multiple users. For light weight sledders with good backs, it is a great way to spend an afternoon. Watch your pockets though! I have found two sets of car keys on the slopes of the tobogganing hill in the springtime.
The target pictured above is for snowball practice. It may be fun, but I think most children would prefer a good old fashioned snowball fight, preferably from behind the protection of a well built snow fort. A moving target is much more challenging than a painted bulls eye.

We saw this young sculptor in Toronto as she used a chisel to transform a chunk of ice into a human form. There a several winter carnivals in Ontario that feature ice carving, from basic to very elaborate. Ottawa, our nation's capital city, has a big winter carnival each February called Winterlude. The Rideau Canal is partially drained and the ice is surfaced to provide a skating rink that is 8 kilometers long.
Our seasonal changes are extreme but invigourating. I don't skate or toboggan any more and seldom throw snowballs. But I enjoy being outdoors, walking and watching others participate in winter fun. I don't want to spend four months indoors waiting for spring to come.

Birthday Blessings

"The love of a family is life's greatest blessing."

Here I am with my father shortly after my birth on January 30, 1955. (You can do the math!)

I was born in Pretoria, South Africa, in the middle of a summer thunderstorm as my mother recalls. And I do believe mothers vividly remember every detail of their child's birth.
It was my good fortune to be born to parents who wanted me, loved me, encouraged me, and taught me good moral values. We travelled a lot and my early experiences have influenced my perspective on life to this day. My brothers and I were close and are still good friends, even though some of us live half a world apart. I know they will all make an effort to contact me on this birthday, to tease me about my age as I am the eldest, but also to share their love.

Here I am on my first birthday as my mother is reaching out to rescue my birthday cake. I have many great birthday memories over the years. Musical Aunt had a surprise party for me on my 14th birthday when I went to her house for my usual piano lesson. Mom pulled off another surprise on my 16th birthday after we had moved to another city. She arranged for the friends I missed to drive to our new home to celebrate with me. Two years ago, my sister-in-law, along with my husband and daughters, really shocked me with a surprise 50th birthday party. Tonight, some of my friends from work honoured me with a meal, cake, card and best wishes.
Do I wish I was 18, or 25, or even 30? I wouldn't want to give up the experiences and the life lessons I have learned if it was possible to turn the clock back. I wouldn't want to return the confidence and wisdom I have gained with getting older.
At the Ontario Science Centre, we each sat in a time machine that took our photograph and then aged us 50 years. We received 5 pictures, one for each decade of aging. I have an image that is supposed to be my likeness when I am 102 years old! I won't be posting that here any time soon.
I am thankful for my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles who influenced me as a child. It is my turn to be the mentor, carer, and encourager to the generations behind me. We will never be too old if we are willing to embrace change and keep on learning and sharing with enthusiasm and joy.

When Death Comes

Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
Psalm 23:4

My desk at the hospital is in front of a large bay window. I have a lovely view of the back of the property and the tree-lined lane that winds towards the road. I also face the morgue and frequently see a hearse coming to pick up the body of a recently deceased patient. For most people, death is an infrequent visitor and serious thoughts and discussions on the subject are avoided.
My husband and I went to a funeral home this afternoon to visit with the family of a man who died this week. Mahlon was 96 years old and had a long, happy life with the respect of his family and friends. His faith was strong and he shared his hope of eternal life with those who visited with him in his last frail days. He knew my husband's family in his youth and loved to tell us about his relationship with them in the early part of the 20th century. He witnessed many changes in the world in his lifetime. Today was a celebration of a life well lived, more than the grieving that comes with an untimely passing.
I have been reading the poetry of Mary Oliver this month and have enjoyed her poems that deal with subjects related to death, both of human kind and also of the "circle of life" as seen in the natural world. This was my favourite as it speaks so eloquently of living life to the fullest each day and facing death preparedly and fearlessly.

When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps his purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering;
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.