Heart Transplant

"Making a decision to have a child -- it's momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." - Elizabeth Stone

Today we dropped Jacob off at school. The move-in process was extremely well organized. We were met at the curb by a small herd of students who helped us unpack the car in a matter of minutes. They grabbed Jacob's boxes and bags and carried them to his room. There was nothing for me to carry. There was only one thing I really wanted to do myself today. I wanted to make Jacob's bed. I wanted to know that when he got into bed tonight for his first night of living away from home, he would be safely tucked into the sheets I so lovingly laid on the bed and smoothed beneath my hands. But Jacob said "no". He would not allow me to make his bed. It is his room. He wanted to get organized. He wanted his space.

Merv and I left him to give him time to put some of his things away. We walked to the Tim Horton's on campus and waited for Jacob to decide he was ready to join us for a walk around the campus, a look through the resource fair and to attend the President's welcoming address to families. He left us to wait for about a half hour. We walked and looked, sat through the President's speech and tried not to ask him a lot of questions. While it was really a couple of hours, it seemed like just a few moments and it was time for us to go. We walked Jacob back to his residence building. We kissed him goodbye and walked away. No crying. No scene. I made it to the car before the tears came. Even then, my sobs were short-lived. I've cried a million tears these last months in anticipation of this day. The well is running dry. He has grown up and I'm trying to grow up too. It is time to come to terms with things. For the next four years, I will be here in Toronto and my heart will be walking around Guelph.

Transition

"Nothing is secure but life, transition, the energizing spirit." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Jacob's moving day is less than 48 hours away. I thought we had everything ready but this morning he decided he wanted a T.V. for his room and he needed a new bluetooth mouse for his computer and a few personal items and a few pieces of clothing. So one more shopping trip ensued. I'd like to think we're done but I doubt it. I'm reasonably certain tomorrow will bring the need to pick up a few more forgotten items. I don't really mind. It gives me something concrete to do - a physical way to prepare for this transition.

I keep telling myself that is what it is after all. It's not an ending; it's a transition. It is the culmination of everything we have worked to prepare Jacob for these past eighteen years. He is a fine young man. He has his feet firmly on the ground and a good head on his shoulders. I expect he will at times feel a little homesick. I expect he'll have his lonely moments. I expect sometimes he will be scared. I also expect he will revel in his new found freedom. He will do well at school. He will make many friends. He will grow and thrive.

On my part, I expect I will have my lonely moments. I expect that I will have a few sleepless nights. I expect that I will feel a little lost. I also expect that I will revel in my new found freedom. I expect I will have more time and energy to put into growing my business. I will reconnect with my many friends. Merv and I will remember the fun we had when it was just we two. It is a transition. We'll get through it. We will grow. We will thrive.

Eat to the Beat

"Never eat more than you can lift." - Miss Piggy

Sixty female chefs. One worthy cause. It is time again for Eat to the Beat. On October 6 at 7:00 p.m. Willow Breast Cancer Support Canada will once again host their signature event at Roy Thompson Hall. A ticket for Eat to the Beat buys a wonderful evening of eating, drinking, socializing and enjoying music. Last year the music was great, the food spectacular, the wine was fine and the martinis were yummy. All this enjoyed for the price of admission ($150) with a tax receipt issued for a portion of the ticket price. Doesn't get much better than that.

I've been to Eat to the Beat a couple of times. The event used to be run in September in a week Merv is always out of town but this year the later date will allow him to join me. Last year I went with Cath, Stan and Nancy. Cath wasn't feeling well and before the doors were even open to the public (we went in early because I am a member of Willow's board), Cath was spread-eagle on the floor, hyperventilating under the registration desk. She ended up in a dark room in Roy Thompson Hall under the watchful eye of a security guard for all but the final thirty minutes of the evening. This year she will do better. My old friend Gail came as did my Alliance Atlantis friends Kim, Mike and Jen. We had a great time.

If anyone is interested, I am in possession of some tickets for purchase. If it's easier, you can buy your tickets on-line at www.eattothebeat.ca. I hope you will join us for this really fun event.

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!