My Other Son

"May good fortune be with you and may your guiding light be strong."
- from the song, Forever Young

It is Sunday evening and I'm sitting and listening to the five boys assembled in our family room who are currently eating pizza and playing video games. They have gathered here to say farewell to Jonathan. He is leaving for Halifax in the morning to start school at Dalhousie. I love listening to the boys. I'm going to miss the sound of their antics as they laugh and joke, zinging one another with insults and jabs the way boys do. Next to Jacob's departure for Guelph next Saturday, the departure of Jonathan to Dal is the hardest one for me. I love this boy. He has spent a lot of time in our home these last years - enough that we often refer to our guest room as Jonathan's room. He has been on vacation with us every summer since the boys started high school. He calls me Mom.

On Friday, Jonathan's family invited we three to join them at the Granite Club for a family dinner. We had a wonderful time. They thanked us for the love and friendship we have extended to Jono these past years. Of course, we are the ones who are grateful. Jono and Jacob are only five days apart in age and Jono has been the perfect complement to our only child. I wanted a sibling for Jacob and I longed for another child to share my love with. I found that in the beautiful blonde boy Jacob brought home the night of eighth-grade graduation. I remember the night well. Ten boys came to our house for a sleep-over graduation party that started with a swim in our neighbours' pool. They were up all night playing and watching T.V. and they were very noisy. The noisiest one, by far, was Jono. At three o'clock in the morning I walked down the stairs to the downstairs family room, two floors below where I was trying to sleep and I told the kids to quiet down. But I couldn't be mad at them. They were being boys.

Now I shudder at the thought of the silence that will soon fill the house. I will be counting the days until Thanksgiving - the first time Jono will be home from school. I know his mom will want to keep him home every moment of that weekend but I know she won't. She is a good mom. She'll share him a little. In the meantime, I have a plan to send regular care packages and he has promised to call me and e-mail me often. He is my other son and I love him very much.

S.I.N.

"There is no sin except stupidity." - Oscar Wilde

I've just returned from taking Jacob to do the last formal piece of transitioning from kid to adult before he leaves for school next week. We went to a Service Canada office so Jacob could obtain a social insurance number. On Monday I took him to the bank and transferred his Youth Account into a Student Account. There is no bunny picture on his passbook this time. He also applied for a credit card. We were advised on Tuesday that his card was approved.

I don't know which of us is feeling more shell-shocked. Jacob tells me the responsibilities of adulthood weigh heavily on his mind. He doesn't want to make any mistakes. Somehow he thinks there is no allowance anymore for youthful indiscretions. He is a man now, fully accountable for his actions. I don't want to discourage his sense of accountability or responsibility, but I don't want him to be so hard on himself either. Over lunch today I told him he will make many mistakes - not just as an eighteen-year-old but as a fifty-four-year-old too. The secret is to own up to your mistakes, make amends where you can, learn from the experience, forgive yourself and move on. I suspect he's going to struggle with the "forgive yourself" part the most. He's entering a really exciting phase in his life. I remember the excitement that accompanied the transition from high school to university and moving away from home, though those two events didn't occur simultaneously for me. But I also remember the anxiety, the fear and the angst. I know he'll be okay. In his heart-of-hearts he knows that too. Transition is hard and not as abrupt as it might seem. He may have made the legal transition from boy to man last week when he turned eighteen, but there is still a boy dwelling somewhere in his man body.

Let's Go To The Ex

"What harm is there in making 100,000 people happy on a hot summer afternoon?"
-- Gordon McLendon

This glorious summer day found me at my first visit of the two-week season at the Canadian National Exhibition, aka, The Ex. I haven't missed an Ex season in all the thirty four years I've lived in Toronto, except for the year that Jacob was born. I usually go a few times each year, though a lot of people shake their heads and wonder why. Today I shared my visit with Nancy, Jacob and our dear friend Jonathon.

The Ex has changed a lot since I went the first time as a university student. There used to be lots of exhibits, entertainment and free samples. I remember that the grounds weren't spic and span and the crowds were heavy. Now the grounds are kept impeccably clean, the crowds are sparse, there are few exhibits, little entertainment and no free samples. And yet, several times a year I go. One thing there is to attract me, is a fabulous international market with many items to choose from across the spectrum of inexpensive trinkets to exquisite handmade pashminas. I do a lot of Christmas shopping at this market, so much so that I've developed a relationship with Hussein who comes each year to run the Kashmir booth. Every time I wear one of the beautiful wraps I have purchased from Hussein, I am inundated with questions about its origin. I have never seen these wraps sold anywhere in Toronto, at any price. I've bought beautiful silks and embroidered wools.

There are also retail store outlets at the Ex. Some great deals are to be found at The Bombay. And I bought three nice cookbooks for $10. Most of the others don't much interest me but today, Jacob managed to pick up three pairs of jeans and two cleverly sloganed shirts for a grand total of $40.

A buttered, roasted cob of corn, a visit to the farm pavilion to see the newborn pigs and goats, a stroll through the Laboratoire Garnier tent and a stop at the military compound rounded out the day.

Next week I will go back to accompany Jacob's friends Robbie and Matthew for their annual visit. While the boys do their thing, Nancy and I will comb the booths in the international market looking for just the right treasures to slip into some Christmas stockings in December. And we promised Hussein we would stop and share a cup of tea with him. He is a long way from home and seems very happy to see a friendly face he recognizes.

Ten-Toed Sloth

I've been feeling positively slothful these past few days. It's been an effort to do the basic housework and finish writing some policies and proposals that are due for my boards. So rather than work to write a clever entry in today's blog, I thought I would share a couple of poems about sloths. Enjoy.

The Sloth by Theodore Roethke

In moving-slow he has no Peer.
You ask him something in his Ear,
He thinks about it for a Year;

And, then, before he says a Word
There, upside down (unlike a Bird),
He will assume that you have Heard--

A most Ex-as-per-at-ing Lug.
But should you call his manner Smug,
He'll sigh and give his Branch a Hug;

Then off again to Sleep he goes,
Still swaying gently by his Toes,
And you just know he knows he knows.

The Sloth by Michael Flanders

A Bradypus or Sloth am I,
I live a life of ease,
Contented not to do or die
But idle as I please.
I have three toes on either foot
(Or half a doz. on both)
With leaves and fruits and shoots to eat...
How sweet to be a Sloth!

The world is such a cheerful place
When viewed from upside down,
It makes a rise of every fall,
A smile of every frown!
I watch the fleeting flutter by
Of butterfly or moth -
And think of all the things I'd try
If I were not a Sloth.

I could climb the very highest Himalayas,
Be among the greatest ever tennis players,
Always win at chess,
Marry a Princess,
Study hard and be an eminent professor,
Or I could be a millionaire,
Play the clarinet, travel everywhere,
Learn to cook,
Catch a crook,
Win a war then write a book
About it; I could paint a Mona Lisa,
Be another Caesar,
Compose an oratorio that was sublime...
The door's not shut
On my genius but -
I just don't have the time.

For days and days among the trees
I sleep and dream and doze,
Just gently swaying in the breeze
Suspended by my toes;
While eager beavers overhead
Rush through the undergrowth,
I watch the clouds beneath my feet...
How sweet to be a Sloth!

Storm Clouds and Rainbows

"If you want the rainbow, you've got to put up with the rain." - Dolly Parton

That was quite a storm we had last night. Merv and I went into a nice Italian restaurant on Yonge street just before the rain started. We stayed and watched the show nature put on for us until it was all done and it felt safe to head home. The rain and winds were violent - the sky an eerie green. I've only seen the sky that colour once before - many years ago when I was still living at home in Windsor and a tornado hit very close to my parents' home. I was not surprised to read in the newspaper this morning that a tornado touched down just north of the city with devastating results for many people.

When the storm ended in our part of the city, around 8:15, the sun began a valliant attempt to come out. We paid our bill and walked to the car. A glorious rainbow filled the evening sky. I look for rainbows all the time. When I'm in a bad space, worried or stressed, I believe my dad creates rainbows in my world. It may sound crazy, but we all have our nuttiness. My sisters think he sends them songs on the radio. That is their thing - rainbows are mine.

The morning of my first breast cancer surgery, we were required to arrive at the hospital by 7:00 A.M. It was November 9 and the sunrise was late. I was very nervous and tired having spent a sleepless night. I rose, bathed and dressed. Merv went downstairs and turned on the foyer chandelier. It was still pretty dark outside. When I left our bedroom to walk down the stairs, I looked down to see the stairs covered in rainbows. Somehow the interaction of the rising sun and the foyer chandelier had come together in perfect harmony to scatter the spectrum at my feet. I knew my dad was with me and I had the comfort that things would be alright.

There have been lots of other rainbows - a glorious one in the sky when I finished my walk at the Weekend to End Breast Cancer last year - a 60K walk made over two days spent almost entirely in the rain. A beautiful rainbow at the end of a challenging hike on a trail in B.C. A spectacular rainbow over the sea in Ireland. Last night, I saw the rainbow and heard my dad wish us a Happy 20th Anniversary. Okay, maybe I'm nuts. But maybe not.

White Lace Memories

A wedding anniversary is the celebration of love, trust, partnership, tolerance and tenacity. The order varies for any given year. ~Paul Sweeney

Twenty years ago on this date, Merv and I tied the knot. Our wedding didn’t go exactly as planned but it was absolutely perfect. Our plan was to marry in the garden of McLean House. A flute, violin, cello trio was playing as our guests gathered at the site of the wedding. My mom and dad would meet me at the bottom of the stairs in McLean House and walk me to the place where my handsome groom stood with the minister in the garden. A couple of minutes before the ceremony was to begin, the rain came. The wedding would take place in the living room instead. I found myself required to take the walk down the winding staircase in full view of our guests. My dress was long, my bouquet heavy. I was worried that I would trip. I didn’t know where Merv would be standing or where I would be walking. But it all unfolded perfectly. We were surrounded by the people we loved most. As soon as the ceremony was complete, the sun came out and continued to shine for the rest of the day.

Twenty years is a long time. By our first anniversary we had lost Merv’s dad. By our second anniversary we had Jacob. By our third, we had lost my father and both of my aunts. We have lived in three houses. We’ve faced life threatening illness. We’ve travelled to many places and held several jobs. We’ve known economic lows and economic highs. We’ve laughed and cried, loved and raged. And here we are. Twenty years later. Older. Wiser. Still married.

Happy Anniversary Hon.

Voting and X-rated Movies

"What is an adult? A child blown up by age." - Simone de Beauvoir

I returned about an hour ago from my jaunt to North Bay taken so I could celebrate Jacob's 18th birthday with him. When my friend Gail called and spoke with him on Monday, she asked him what he had the ability to do on Monday that he didn't have on Sunday. He answered that he could now vote and attend X-rated movies. The 18th birthday does grant a few more things than that. Jacob can also now sign a contract, get a credit card, join the military and be prosecuted for criminal acts in adult court. It really boils down for him though to voting. He's not much interested in the rest. Looks like he might have his chance to cast his first vote this fall if the political pundits are correct about what's coming.

Nancy joined me for the four hour drive. We arrived at the beach where Jacob is staying with his friend Robbie and Robbie's family around 2:30 on Monday afternoon. Jacob seemed happy to see us though I suspect he was as happy to see the new laptop I brought him as he was to see me. On Monday evening I took everyone to dinner at a lovely restaurant called Churchill's. According to it's web page, Churchill's has been rated among the top fifty restaurants in Canada. After a nice dinner, Nan and I headed back to our hotel.

On Tuesday we joined the gang for brunch in the morning and took our leave of North Bay at about 4:00 P.M. We stopped for the night in Huntsville, enjoyed a good fish dinner at a cafe on the river and settled in for a night of T.V. and puzzles. We hit the Huntsville shopping strip this morning, scoring some real finds in the Salvation Army store where Nan picked up a great old chair and a large box of porcelain dishes, in combination destined to become one of her famous mosaic china furniture pieces. We moved on to Bracebridge for an unproductive shopping expedition and then made the drive back to Toronto.

I wonder if many years from now, when Jacob has voted in many elections and will perhaps be facing the 18th birthday of his own child, he will remember when his mom made the long drive to ensure she could spend his special day with him. I hope he will treasure the memory as much as I will. I don't know how Jacob will process or store these events. What I do know for sure though, is he will never wonder whether he was well and truly loved.