Twin Time

"I may be a twin but I'm one of a kind."  ~Author Unknown

My sister Cathy likes to tell people we are twins.  We look nothing alike and have very distinct personalities.  We're almost two years apart in age.  Set that all aside.  In many ways, for all intents and purposes, we are twins.  

As the younger twin, I grew up with Cathy as my protector, best friend, closest confidante. She is the other half of me.  It was so hard for us to fathom being apart when we grew up, that I sped up my schooling so we could finish university virtually at the same time.  Cathy moved from our childhood home to Toronto one month before I joined her.  She stayed here with our oldest sister Nancy who moved the month I started high school.  We both cried for hours at her parting though we knew it would be brief. Once in Toronto, we got an apartment together in the building next to Nancy's.  We lived together until Cathy married many years later.  Even then we have never lived more than a few blocks apart.  

We are quite a trio.  Nan is a fair bit older than we are, a difference which is insignificant in adulthood but a large gap in childhood.  We three are very close, speaking everyday, sharing friends and mothering my son as the only offspring we managed to produce.   We have vacationed many times together over the years, starting with a sisters trip to Phoenix, a graduation gift from my parents.  

It has been a difficult few months.  Cathy has been unwell.  A myriad of tests produced some alarming  but managable results but we are still without a definitive diagnosis.  The tests have been brutal and the treatments hard.  If I could take them for her, I would.  I've cried a million tears and prayed earnestly through many long nights.  I've tried to make a bargain with God, much in the way I know she tried to make hers when I was sick. I remind myself frequently to take it one day at a time.

The depth of my angst has in many ways been exacerbated by the unrelenting deep freeze of this brutal winter.  I've longed for a sun escape but didn't feel I could go until things settled down with Cath.  For the first time in two decades, Merv and I will not have a winter vacation together.  He started a new job in January and can't take the time.  A sisters vacation would be perfect but Nancy doesn't want to leave my mom.  Cath is through her array of scheduled tests and has no medical appointments scheduled for next week.  She too is anxious for a patch of sand and some sun on her shoulders.  Yesterday we booked a week in a five star resort in The Dominican Republic.  We leave on Sunday; no husbands, no work, no worries. Just a week of twin time with the other half of me.

Golden

"I've learned that winning isn't everything, and it's more about the journey.  But at the end of the day, I just want to stand on the podium with the gold medal." - Hope Solo

It has been quite a day for our athletes in Sochi.  The Women's Curling Team won gold for the first time since Sandra Schmirler's golden performance in 1998.  A couple of hours later, the Women's Hockey Team won gold in overtime against their arch rivals from the U.S.  Both were exciting games to watch and of course it is thrilling to know we would twice see our anthem played as the winners ascend the podium.  But frankly, I had a bit of trouble with the commentating around the hockey win.

I haven't been a big fan of the CBC's coverage of the Olympics.  I found myself tweeting my displeasure, an unusual action for me, when the ice dancing competition was on and the commentators prattled on incessantly.  I'm not a big fan of Ron McLean and I just don't understand how we got to a place where we consider Don Cherry to be a national treasure.  Mr. Cherry gets under my skin most every time I watch him.  Today was no exception.  Listening to his long explanation of how he is such a great fan of girl's hockey made me want to puke.  He droned on about how much he supports the Olympic girl's players and how much they like him.  God help me.  Do we really have to have this discussion again?  Does Hayley Wickenheiser still not merit the respect of being referred to as a woman and not a girl?  As offensive as that was, it was not what bothered me most.

Olympic Women's Hockey has only ever seen two teams in the final - Canada and the U.S.  Needless to say there is a long history of rivalry between them.  Ron McLean made the point today that we probably wouldn't want to see anyone else play that final game.  Wrong Ron.  I'd love to see someone else play that final game against Canada.  I'd love to have seen the Russians or the Swedes or the Finns.  Maybe if they had been the competitors against Canada today, things wouldn't have felt so mean.

In 2002, a story circulated that the U.S. Women's Hockey Team had placed a Canadian flag on the floor of their dressing room, essentially using it as a doormat.  When the story broke to the Canadian team during an intermission at the gold medal game, the Canadian team was apoplectic.  They channeled that ire into a gold medal victory.  Haley Wickenheiser went on the air after the game and told the world about what the U.S. team had done.  She offered to sign the doormat flag for them.  In time it became known that the story wasn't true.  Apologies were made.  We all moved on - until this afternoon when once again the CBC commentators repeated the story and showed the clips, as if it had been true.  Suppose it was true, other than causing animosity and anger between Canadians and Americans, what purpose could possibly have been served by repeating the story twelve years later.  Why can't we just move on?  In this crazy world, our neighbors to the south are our best friends and greatest allies.  Spewing such vitriol in what is essentially a sibling rivalry makes no sense to me.  We won the game today.  It could just have easily gone the other way.  We are winners.  So is the American team.  All the athletes deserve our respect.  Shame on you CBC for suggesting otherwise.

Pennies From Heaven

Every time it rains, it rains pennies from heaven
Don't you know each cloud contains pennies from heaven?
You'll find your fortune's fallin' all over the town
Be sure that your umbrella is upside down
- Lyrics to Pennies From Heaven written by Johnny Burke

Every time I start to panic that I'm running out of pennies to do the myriad of penny projects I have planned, I stumble on a new lot of them.  I was sure I had found all the old pennies stashed in boxes and drawers around the house, but last week I found another batch at the back of a desk drawer and this morning I found a stash tucked away in the corner of our bedroom.  I don't know why I have them, or how long they've been there but I'm glad to have them.  Strangely, squirreled away pennies aren't the only ones I've been finding.  Last week I found one in the pocket of my new coat.  I have no explanation for that as we haven't used pennies for currency in more than a year and I've only had the coat for a month or two.  This morning I found one on the floor of the passenger side of my car.  It's not like the car hasn't been cleaned over and over.  I don't know where it came from.  It wasn't there a couple of days ago.

 After my dad passed away twenty-one years ago, my sister Nancy believed found pennies were a gift from him.  It was her sign that he was still watching over her.  We each had our own thing.  Cathy thought he sent her songs on the radio.  I thought he sent me rainbows.  These past six months have presented some challenges in the lives of me and my sisters.  For the first time in twenty-one years, I haven't been able to feel the presence of my father.  I have felt alone as if he has finally moved on and left me to my own devices.  At first I felt deserted.  I have relied heavily on the ethereal presence of my dad, drawing strength from his love and care, knowing he was with me even though I can't see him anymore.  I sensed him.  Felt him.  Heard him.  When the day came that I could no longer do those things, I began to grieve anew.  My sisters assure me he is still here with me.  I'd like to believe they are right.

There have been no rainbows but maybe if I work hard at it, I will be able to convince myself that every found copper is a penny from heaven.  It may just be wishful thinking but it would probably make me feel better.

Victories Without Medals

Good sportsmanship we hail, we sing,
    It's always pleasant when you spot it,
There's only one unhappy thing:
    You have to lose to prove you've got it. 
- Richard Armour (1958) Nights with Armour: Lighthearted Light Verse

As the Canadian medal count rises, it is easy to get caught up in the thrill of being on the top of the Olympic medal board for the first time in history, even if it only lasted for eighteen hours.  Canadian athletes have hit the snow and ice with fire.  In just five days, we've had multiple opportunities to hear our national anthem played, our hearts swelling with pride.  But there are a couple of other victories that we've been treated to that don't come with medals or anthems. They are triumphs of spirit, of friendship, of comraderie.  And in many ways, they are the sweetest victories.

Russian cross-country skiier, Anton Gafarov was favored to win a medal in competition yesterday.  Gafarov crashed twice and broke his ski.  He continued to try and drag himself to the finish line though his medal hopes were dashed.  Canadian coach, Justin Wade saw Gafarov struggling to make the last couple hundred metres.  He ran onto the course and without exhanging words, gave Gafarov a replacement ski, even fitting it onto his boot.  Gafarov was able to finish the race with dignity, in front of his countrymen.  When asked about the gesture afterwards, Wade seemed a bit bewildered.  He didn't think it was a big deal, but rather what any coach would have done.  Amazingly, Wade was standing among many coaches.  No one did a thing except him.

Then there is the case of Gilmore Junio.  Junio qualified to compete in two speed skating events in these Olympics - the 500m and 1,000m events.  Junio skated the 500m finishing 10th.  Before the 1,000m event took place, Junio decided to withdraw from the event, thus allowing Canadian skater Denny Morrison to take his place.  It couldn't have been easy for Junio to give up his only other chance to reach the podium at these games.  And he did qualify fair and square, beating Morrison out for the chance.  But somehow, he decided, Canada would have a better chance with Morrison who had already won two world championship silver medals in the event.  Today Denny Morrison added Olympic silver to his medal collection.

It is only day five of the Olympics and we've already had the chance to witness two acts of generosity.  I can hardly wait to see what the next eleven days bring.

Crying My Way Through The Olympics

"The Olympics are a wonderful metaphor for world cooperation, the kind of international competition that's wholesome and healthy, an interplay between countries that represents the best in all of us. "  - John Williams 

Given that I am not either an athlete or a fan of sports, it can be difficult to understand why I have such a passion for the Olympics.  Watching young people compete for excellence on the world stage moves me to tears over and over again.  Yesterday I watched the Dufour-Lapointe sisters stand on the podium to receive their gold and silver medals.  Justine clearly struggled but still managed to keep her composure while 'O Canada' played; I did not even bother trying.  I bawled like a baby.  Likewise, when Alex Bilodeau won gold and his teammate, Mikail Kingsbury won silver in mogul skiing this afternoon they met their victories with hugs and screams, while I watched through tears. 

I've been taking an on-line course at Yale called "The Moralities of Everyday Life".  We've been talking a little bit about tribal behaviors.  The Olympics is a great example of tribal behavior.  No matter what our political or moral views are, most of us, liberals and conservatives are bound together in cheering for victory for the athletes of Canada, our tribe.  Intestingly, my tears haven't only been reserved for Canadian victories.  I was equally moved by Russia's Yulia Lipnitskaia who skated in the team figure skating competition yesterday which resulted in a gold medal for Team Russia and a silver for Team Canada.  I love young people.  I remember the years when I still believed anything was possible and there was no limit to my dreams.  Perhaps that is what I see in Olympic athletes and why I love the competition so much.  Even the losers are winners as long as they are chasing their dreams.

Play on.

Snow

"The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event.  You go to bed in one kind of a world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found?" - J.B. Priestley

I agree with Mr. Priestley.  That first snowfall is magical but too much of a good thing has made the enchantment wane.  I simply can't stand it anymore.  I've been trying to remember other years when it seemed the snow would never stop.  I know 2002 was brutal as was 2007.  I remember feeling that I wanted to cry when we had snow in April.  I don't remember feeling like I wanted to cry in February.  But the snow has been relentless this year and I'm feeling housebound.  

Today I am trying to appreciate the beauty.  I've parked myself in front of the fireplace looking out the picture window at the ravine.  I'll admit it is lovely.  This is not my usual place but it is probably the brightest room in the house and I thought the natural light might help me feel better.  It's also the coldest room in the house and even with the fireplace on, I am snuggled under the faux fur blanket that my sister Nancy sewed for me a few years ago.

I finished up a little client work this morning but I still have a bit left to do.  I also want to finish a penny project I started last week.  But for the next half-hour, I'm just going to sit and watch the snow fall and console myself with the thought that at least I'm on the warm side of the glass.