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Posts from the ‘Open thoughts’ Category

Jan 7

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Time To Be A Grown Up

I just returned from Christmas vacation in Toronto with my family and we had an absolutely amazing time. We haven’t been home to Canada in the winter in five years but after having such a lovely time in Oregon last Christmas Sean and I realized there’s something to be said for getting “away” for the holidays. Celebrating in our own home is nice, but the luxury of being able to leave – to go somewhere where we aren’t constantly reminded of things that need to be done or work that should be accomplished, a place where friends are close and family is closer, a space far removed from our “every day” – is a real treat. Our lives have a habit of becoming repetitive, sort of a “same s*^# different day” mentality that a change of scene really shakes up. Turns out it was just what we needed to refill our tanks.

Obviously, being the kind of chummy, togetherness family we are, we filled our days with plenty of family activities encouraged by the season. We walked downtown to see the beautiful Christmas windows decorated for the young and young at heart, we did multiple days of tobogganing (sledding for my south of the border friends) down the snowy white hills in our mismatched ski clothes, we made snow men, angels and igloos on the front lawn and cozied up inside for movies with hot chocolate. Christmas day was thrilling (how can it not be with a little person?) and the spirit of the season filled my childhood home. Two full weeks allowed us to have a real visit with my parents and Loch and his Granny were like peas in a pod. Every morning he’d open the door to my room not to say good morning but to take a shortcut to his beloved Gran. It was both sweet and awesome to be able to roll over and go back to sleep knowing he was happy and I wasn’t in charge.

How great is that snowman? Love my family!

How great is that snowman? Love my family!

Family time aside, what struck me the most about this holiday was how energized I felt being able to go out and socialize as an adult. Not as a family, but as a couple, or even as an individual. We did have a wonderful Christmas Eve with six of my oldest friends, their spouses/partners and children, but even amidst all the chaos it felt as if the priority remained on the adults. The children ran around and did their thing but I think the grown ups were free to enjoy their evening. I’m willing to accept it might have just felt like that to me because my child is almost 5, comfortable in the space and can feed himself, but for the most part  I felt the children, instead of being the focal point they usually are, were able to fall in and let their parents come first. Before everyone went home we even had the energy to do some singing as a group. For me it was the most special Christmas Eve I can remember having. A perfect storm of family, friends and joy for which I was incredibly grateful.

The boys in my life. Good sports every one.

The boys in my life. Good sports every one.

We don’t go out a lot in LA. We sometimes see movies or go to dinner, but between Sean’s insane work schedule, our friend’s busy lives and our baby sitter’s availabilities, we don’t do it that much. I don’t know whether it was the fact that it was the holidays, we had a built-in baby sitter or people were just up for going out, but Sean and I were really social over the break and it was fantastic. We had night of tequila and Mexican food with my Maid of Honor and her new love who, after a decade of living in NYC is finally back in Toronto where I can visit her. We spent an terrific weekend with one of my oldest friends and her family up in ski country where we were outdoorsy all day and spent rosy cheeked nights chatting away while our children played. New Year’s Eve was a riotous evening of old friends, great nibbles and big laughs where even some dancing took place. And finally, and what really solidified this whole thought for me, was a dinner we had with a dear friend of mine from High School and his adorable wife. We connected at a great Italian restaurant, drank a couple bottles of wine and enjoyed four hours of animated, candid conversation. After we’d dropped them off, I turned to Sean and said, “That was an absolutely perfect evening” and it was. Good food, great people, and real grown up interaction. I don’t think any of us noticed the time fly by. There’s a real under appreciation, especially with parents, for taking time to yourselves. I’m not talking about things like spa days, because honestly how many people are actually doing that, but an afternoon or evening here and there that truly belongs to you. Where our conversations shift to subjects other than work or kids. A time where the enjoyment of our peers and ourselves becomes the focus.

The Christmas Eve Gang. Such a wonderful evening.

The Christmas Eve Gang. Such a wonderful evening.

There was a night a couple of months ago when a group of moms from Loch’s preschool were getting together for dinner. I was exhausted and seriously considering bailing, but I pulled it together, slapped some blush on my cheeks and willed myself out the door. What struck me most, almost instantly after I arrived, was how un-tired I felt. I thought I’d stay for one drink and here I was all perky and laughing. What I realized in that moment was only part of me was tired – the mom part – the other part of me – let’s call it the Leigh part – was really excited to be out. That part of me was thrilled to be among her peers and perfectly happy to order a second martini. I try to remind myself of that feeling every time I think I don’t have the energy to rally at the end of the day. Only part of me is whipped. The other part is just bored.

2 days of skiing with our great friends from the cottage. Fun for kids and grown ups!

2 days of skiing with our great friends from the cottage. Fun for kids and grown ups!

I have a close group of friends here in LA. It’s basically three couples with kids and two singles. We used to do a annual dinner out for everyone’s birthday but over time it became increasingly more complicated to organize and we ended up celebrating March birthdays in June or putting two birthday’s together, so we finally let it go. The thing is, now we barely see each other. Sure our dinners only happened five or six times a year but at least they happened. I looked forward to them and now, with all our busy schedules, there’s never any time to see our friends. Without the excuse of the birthday celebration, there never seems to be a reason to make plans.

Some of the New Years crew.

Some of the New Years crew.

If you’re a parent you understand when I say “embrace the adult part of yourself”. It’s the part that still bothers to do your makeup or craves a couple of hours when no one’s asking you for something. A time when you can stop trying to shape a person and just be a person. But I also think it’s important for people without children to embrace that part too. We aren’t just parents or our jobs. We can’t simply fall into routines and forget to get out. Remember when you used to wait for the weekend? When you’d be excited planning your social life? We shouldn’t stop just because we got busy…or tired.

I’m excited for a fundraiser for Loch’s school in May because it’s a dinner dance where I can plan a costume. I’m eagerly awaiting the summer when my BFF and I will go dancing. I’m psyched for a friend’s birthday party that has yet to be planned because he mentioned he wanted it to be a masked ball. It could be next year but I’m already looking forward to it and that’s slightly depressing. These nights out shouldn’t be so few and far between. If I learned anything this Christmas, other than Mt. Sinai is a far better hospital than Sunnybook, it’s that we need to make more of an effort. That seeing our friends is a spirit lifter. That we require more nights of companionship and conversation and we should remind ourselves more than twice a year that we’re more than a collection of schedules, habits and errands. Connecting with others reminds us of ourselves, not just our given roles.

7711653482_561be2350aIf I know anything, it’s that life is short and you never know what cards you’re going to be dealt. I realize life’s not a vacation. That we don’t always have the time, finances or inclination to go out. But this holiday reminded me that I should more of an effort. That the simple action of interacting with my peers made me happier. Time with our kids is wonderful. Commitment to our spouse is essential. Devotion to our job is both lucrative and inevitable. But our friendships, our adult based interactions, are vital to our mental health. We need those connections. We need those evenings or lunches or whatever to remind us of who were are at the root of it all. We deserve to be excited. To have fun. To get dressed up, because time for yourself, for the person inside who wants to be more than what they do or who they take care of, is indispensable. So though it might feel like it’s the last thing on your to do list, I believe our lives are better and more full when we live them, not just exist within them.

Happy New Year! Go call a friend.

xo leigh

Dec 17

10 Comments

Tragedy in Newton: What’s wrong with the USA?

The post I had planned for this week seemed frivolous and inappropriate in the wake of the recent tragedy in Connecticut, so I’m going to take this time to briefly express my views, as simplified as they are, on this hideous and sickening event.

First of all, I grew up in Canada where guns are rare and for the most part belong in the hands of the police or terrible criminals. There was no “gun culture” in Canada so even as an American I feel no constitutional pull to “bare arms” in any way. I don’t want a gun. I don’t like guns. I don’t understand, other than hunting (which I’m also not big on) why you would need a gun. I understand the concept of protecting yourself but at what point does your right to “protection” start infringing on the protection of everyone else? Sean and I have decided that we only really want a gun “if the zombies come” because it’s not as if we’d be using it in any other way. Gun in one locked box. Ammo in another. Probably in two completely different places in our house. It’d be useless in a crisis and, frankly, I’m fine with that. Bringing a gun into play changes the game and it’s a game I’m not equipped or interested in playing.

.223 assault rifle, like the one used in the shootings.

.223 assault rifle, like the one used in the shootings.

Guns were made to kill. That is their purpose. Why regular people in no eminent danger feel the need to have them is foreign to me but I realize it’s a big part of the American culture so I can understand even if I don’t agree. Assault weapons on the other hand – AK-47, semi automatic weapons, fully automatic weapons – I simply can not abide. Assault weapons were created to hold and get out as many bullets as quickly as possible. They are weapons of war that I believe have absolutely no place outside of the military. They don’t belong in the hands of hunters, home owners, collectors or God forbid, mentally ill sociopaths. They are a weapon akin to a bomb as far as destruction, and as far as I know bombs are illegal.

photo 2 copy“Guns don’t kill people. People kill people.” I know, love and respect many people who say this but I think it’s a trite phrase touted for years that allows people to pass the buck. Of course people kill people, but the access to guns makes it a hell of a lot easier and destructive. A child who picks up his father’s gun to show a friend and ends up shooting himself can only do that because the gun is there. The angry and disturbed young man who shot 32 people at Virgina Tech could only accomplish that because he was able to get his hands on two semi automatic hand guns. Yes, it is essential we figure out what’s at the bottom of all the anger. Why these young men feel there’s no alternative but mass murder and suicide. We must get to the root of the problem and better respond to the issue of mental illness. We must weed out the cause, but in the meantime, we must also make it harder for disturbed people to follow through with their plans. Even without a “No Guns. Period.” law – which I realize is impossible – limiting the access to weapons can only help. If Adam Lanza only had access to a knife like the mentally ill man in central China that attacked an elementary school on the same day, rather than three semi-automatic weapons with multiple round magazines, the death toll would have been exponentially lessened, as it would have been in the movie theatre in Aurora, CO, the Sikh temple in Wisconsin, or the High School in Columbine, CO.

We have to stop being afraid to talk about this. As Ezra Klein for the Washington Post said in Twelve Facts about Guns and Mass Shootings in the United States, “If roads were collapsing all across the United States, killing dozens of drivers, we would surely see that as a moment to talk about what we could do to keep roads from collapsing. If terrorists were detonating bombs in port after port, you can be sure Congress would be working to upgrade the nation’s security measures. If a plague was ripping through communities, public-health officials would be working feverishly to contain it. Only with gun violence do we respond to repeated tragedies by saying that mourning is acceptable but discussing how to prevent more tragedies is not. “Too soon,” howl supporters of loose gun laws. But as others have observed, talking about how to stop mass shootings in the aftermath of a string of mass shootings isn’t “too soon.” It’s much too late.” 

The innocent child victims of Sandy Hook Elementary

The innocent child victims of Sandy Hook Elementary

We have to stop falling back on old rhetoric and realize the system is broken if our citizens are not safe. Our children are DYING in their classrooms. Whatever you feel your rights are, they can’t possibly trump the safety of our children, or ourselves, as we go about our daily lives. Guns are a serious problem that needs to be addressed in a serious way. It’s not going away, if anything it’s getting worse. Time Magazine has a list of the 25 worst mass shootings in the last 50 years and 15 of them are in the US. The second place goes to Finland who has 2. Of the 11 deadliest shootings in the US, 5 have happened SINCE 2007 and that doesn’t include these Connecticut murders with it’s death toll of 28, now the second-deadliest mass shooting in US history.*

David Remnick from the New Yorker recently wrote an article entitled What Obama Must Do About Guns  in which he clearly and adamantly insisted our President stop falling back on empathy following such a tragedy and take some serious and decisive action to deal with the issue of guns. It may be a heated political topic that polarizes the country but what kind of country are we, and what kind of leader is he, if the safety of our citizens isn’t our paramount concern? As Mr. Remnick says, “We have grown accustomed to what will happen next. The President will likely visit a funeral or a memorial service and, at greater length, comfort the families of the victims, the community, and the nation. He will be eloquent. He will give voice to the common grief, the common confusion, the common outrage. But then what? A “conversation”? Let there be a conversation. But also let there be decisive action from a President who is determined not only to feel our pain but, calling on the powers of his office, to feel the urge to prevent more suffering. His reading of the Constitution should no longer be constrained by a sense of what the conventional wisdom is in this precinct or that. Let him begin his campaign for a more secure and less violent America in the wake of what has happened in Connecticut.”

A vigil for the victims outside a church in CT.

A vigil for the victims outside a church in CT.

Nicolas D. Kristof sites some excellent and plausible suggestions in his Op-Ed piece for the New York Times Sunday Review called Do We Have The Courage To Stop This? After pointing out this “isn’t about one school shooting, but the unceasing toll across our country. More Americans die in gun homicides and suicides in six months (approximately 15,500) than have died in the last 25 years in every terrorist attack and the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq combined.” (2000 casualties in Afghanistan as of 09/30/2012, 4,326 in Iraq since 2003, and 2,751 victims in 9/11 Attacks total 9,077) After suggesting such changes as limiting gun purchases to one a month to curb gun traffickers, restricting the sale of high-capacity magazines so a shooter can’t kill as many people without reloading, imposing a universal background check for gun buyers (even with private sales), he directs us to the examples of other countries who have adjusted their gun policies in the wake of similar tragedies. “In 1996, a mass killing of 35 people in Australia galvanized the nation’s conservative prime minister to ban certain rapid-fire long guns. The “National Firearms Agreement” led to the buyback of 650,000 guns and tighter rules for licensing and safe storage of those remaining in public hands. The law did not end gun ownership in Australia but reduced the number of firearms in private hands by one-fifth, and all but eliminating the kinds most likely used in mass shootings.” And it worked. In the 18 years before the law, Australia suffered 13 mass shootings, but not one in the 14 years after the law took full effect. The firearms murder rate also dropped by more than 40 percent with the suicide rate being reduced by more than half (Harvard Injury Control Research Center). Kristof also suggests looking to Canada which “now requires a 28-day waiting period to buy a handgun and it imposes a safeguard where gun buyers must have the support of two people vouching for them before the transaction is able to be complete.” Finally he cleverly suggests we simply look to our own history on auto safety. “As with guns, auto deaths are often caused by people who break laws or behave irresponsibly. But we don’t shrug and say, “Cars don’t kill people, drunks do.” We require seat belts, air bags, child seats and crash safety standards. We have introduced limited licenses for young drivers and are trying to curb the use of mobile phones while at the wheel.” And the policies have worked. With these governmentally implemented auto safety regulations America’s traffic fatality rate per mile driven has been reduced by nearly 90 percent since the 1950s. Kristof rightly points out that if we don’t get as serious about our gun safety as we are about our auto safety, many more will die because of our failure. **

photo 1 copyThis is no longer a situation that can be blamed on one crazed madman. Yes, one man is responsible but the problem is much further reaching. As John Cassidy said in his New Yorker article America’s Shame: Words and Tears Aren’t Enough, “All societies have deeply troubled and alienated young men, some of whom end up violently lashing out at the world. But in most other advanced countries, such as the United Kingdom, which banned handguns after what happened at Dunblane (in 1996, a former Scout troop leader entered a primary school in Scotland, and shot to death sixteen pupils before killing himself), these misfits don’t have easy access to guns and the gun culture that glorifies them. During recent years, politicians of both parties, President Obama included, have been far too reticent about spelling out this elemental truth. In the immediate aftermath of the massacre at the cinema in Aurora, President Obama refused even to talk about the gun laws, preferring to keep the focus on the victims.” ***

We have to stop making excuses. We have to stop hiding behind an amendment from over 220 years ago and accept that we live in a different world now. A more unkind, angry world with laws that no longer fit the hostility of certain factions of society. Yes, we should also seek the root of the problem, to discover what’s broken in our system causing people to become so desperate they see no other way out or lets mentally ill people fall through the cracks, but in the meantime, we must seriously consider taking the weapons away. As Adam Gopnick, also of the New Yorker, recently said in his article Newtown and the Madness of Guns, “Let’s state the plain facts one more time, so that they can’t be mistaken: Gun massacres have happened many times in many countries, and in every other country, gun laws have been tightened to reflect the tragedy and the tragic knowledge of its citizens afterward. In every other country, gun massacres have subsequently become rare. In America alone, gun massacres, most often of children, happen with hideous regularity, and they happen with hideous regularity because guns are hideously and regularly available.” photo 3

I cried my eyes out when I picked Loch up from school on Friday. Hearing his little voice in my backseat, seeing his chirpy face in my mirror. So many parents will never hear that voice or see that face again. That is unacceptable. So many people have been forever devastated by this senseless monstrosity. My heart is broken. My faith in this country is shaken. I’m sick to my stomach. I want to do something to help but how do you make people listen? How do we enact change if even cataclysms like this don’t wake people up?

We can do better. We should be better. If no one stops it, this will go on. As Nicholas Thompson says in America’s Culture of Violence “Voters need to be loud, politicians need to be brave, and the gun lobby needs to be defeated.” There are other issues at hand, but this is the first step and it must be taken.

Let us take this as a call. We must stop sitting in the complacency of our safe, little lives and realize if we don’t step up, that safety could be gone forever. There are rights and there is the greater good. When our kindergarden students aren’t safe in their own classrooms the time has come to stand up and say No More. Every killing is a tragedy. This is a call to arms.

44620_440931735973787_450582213_n

*Ezra Klein Twelve Facts about Guns and Mass Shootings in the United States

** Nicolas D. Kristof Do We Have The Courage To Stop This? New York Times Review, December 15, 2012

*** As of 12/16/2012 Huffington Post and NBC News reports Dianne Feinstein is to introduce an assault weapon ban on the first day of congress. Please don’t turn this into an impotent circular debate of cow towing to your constituents and lobbyists. Pull together for once and do what is best for the country.

Nov 5

3 Comments

Halloween

I am posting a week early because I believe a post on Halloween will feel less relevant next week. With the election tomorrow, I anticipate there will be other things to discuss than goblins and candy corn. To that point, I’d like to encourage everyone to get out and vote tomorrow. This is an incredibly important election and I hope you’ll vote with both your head and your heart. xo leigh

I love Halloween. I love dressing up. My family loves dressing up. We’re those people. We decorated our house with (mostly) home made decorations on September 29th, we bobbed for apples in our backyard, Sean sewed his and Loch’s costume and we throughly enjoyed everything the holiday had to offer from picking out our pumpkins at the local farm, to Monster Mash playing in our house day and night. We love it all. That’s why, when our trick or treating turned out to be kind of disappointing this year I was bummed. It’s like when you love a book so much and then the ending falls flat. You feel kind of like Meh (and yes, I’m talking to you The Historian).

We were really excited to go out. Halloween night is the culmination of an entire month of anticipation and our expectations were high. This year we were kindly invited to join Lochie’s best friend, his family and some of their extended friends in the tony neighbourhood of Tuluca Lake, CA. It’s a beautiful area, filled with houses ranging from lovely medium size homes to humongous, bohemeth estates of the extraordinarly wealthy. The problem is it also seems to have become one of the “it” places to be if you’re on the hunt for candy and a killer Halloween atmosphere. It’s a full size chocolate bar neighbourhood if you get my drift. We were psyched to be included in our group. We love the family and being there seemed legit because we weren’t just driving ourselves to a cool neighborhood to knock on doors. It’s where our friends ACTUALLY live. It’s also an area I can imagine buying a house, because even with it’s obvious 2%ness, it retains it’s old school neighborhood feel. People know each other, talk to the dog walkers, notice when things seem off and generally seem pretty friendly. So, despite the fact that it, like the rest of the residential streets in the valley, has very few street lights, it seemed to be the perfect place for our little costumed babies to experience trick or treating.

We were a small(ish) group of four families with the oldest being six and the youngest being two. We started our evening enjoying pizza and taking pictures of the kids. Sean and I were the only parents dressed up but, that’s us, and pretty soon the people who didn’t know us understood we weren’t so much weird as enthusiastic and accepted us as such. Around 6pm we started walking the neighborhood while it was still light. From a favorite Disney phenom cum rocker’s house where her staff give candy out in front of her closed gate, to the family who’d deliberately taken their gates off the hinges to make their house look haunted, the neighborhood was fantastic. We crisscrossed the street and the kids were having a ball.

As the darkness came so did the big kids. Personally I think there should be a mandatory cut off on trick or treaters. Just as we aren’t supposed to drink in this country till 21, I think trick or treating should be cut off at 13. If there’s a “teen” in your age, you’re too old. I understand that I sound Grincy (or whatever the Halloween equivilent would be) but if you’re out in big groups with your high school friends and your pillowcases pushing ahead of the little kids you’re doing something wrong.

We ended up at a dead end street called the Tuluca Lake Estates which is basically a mecca for entertainment industry big wigs who do it up BIG for Halloween. One lawn had a life size pirate ship, complete with strobe lights, fake wind and sound effects. Another house, which apparently chooses a new theme every year, capitalized on the love of all things Super Hero and had decorated with dozens of skeletons dressed in destroyed superhero costumes, posed in full battle. Aqua Man held a trident to Superman’s neck. Spiderman had reduced Ironman to a helmet and a pile of bones. Another lawn had at least ten life size ghosts playing ring around the rosie. This one street was like a theme park and it was at once both completely fabulous and total bedlam.

The surrounding streets were bumper to bumper parking. No one could drive anywhere. There was a stretch golf cart tooting around a bunch of mouthy early teens yelling “Move!” to anyone who got in their way. Hundreds of people had obviouly heard about this neighborhood and it was as if they were getting dropped off by the bus load. Every house had a line of at least twenty-five people (often double or triple that) clamering for candy. The home owners (or in most cases their nannies and housekeepers) sat in their driveways or on their front porch behind tables. One house even set up a velvet rope to keep the crowds in check. There was no time to interact. No time for the person giving out candy to say “Oh, and what are you?” No time for the generous homeowners (who were easily spending $1000-$2000 on candy) to appreciate the kids in their costumes. No room for the kids to check out the decorations that had been so elaborately set out for their enjoyment. I would have loved to really look around, to take it all in, but it was all I could do to keep my eye on my little jedi and his pirate friend amidst the dark and the crowds. I took to taking them up to every house, clutching their little hands, lest I lose track of them. The candy line was like a convayer belt and, honestly, it was kind of depressing.

This is literally on someone’s front lawn.

As we were pushed aside by bigger and bigger kids (and I’m talking 13-20 – most just in jeans) I felt more and more irritated. I started saying things outloud like, “There’s a line” and “You’re going to knock a four year old over, really?” For every nice teen waiting their turn who had  put together a cool costume  – big shout out to the Book of Mormon kids who could sing the opening number, the awesome Lisbeth Salander from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and my matching Princess Lea who wanted her picture with me,  you guys were great – there were ten, burly, shouldn’t be out, little jerks jamming up the streets and elbowing their way past the pre-schoolers. When I was young no self respecting teenager was still going door to door. Or, if they were, it was later, after the little kids were done. You didn’t need a watch back then, as soon as the big kids came out, you knew it was time to go home.

This, however, was chaos and I think the ones who suffered most (aside from the parents who looked strung out and tired) were the kids. The boys never let go of my hands. The pirate kept telling me he was scared and my jedi was seriously put out to wait in a line. Loch was asking to go home by the end of the dead end street. It was no longer fun. It was overwhelming.

What happened to trick or treating in your own neighborhood or like us, the neighborhood of your friends? Driving thirty minutes to get to the “right” neighborhood is weird. It’s like dragging your kids to best fishing spot to “catch the big one” when all they want to do is drop a line off the end of your dock. The houses were amazing but we couldn’t enjoy them. Even the people who owned them, and had gone to all the trouble, weren’t getting much out of it. It was an onslaught and probably why they delegated their candy job to the help.

more purity needed like these images at ziprealty.com

At the end of the day if you asked Loch if he had a good time he’d say yes, he dressed up and hung out with his friends, but as his mother, I know it could have been better. I miss the old days before we started supersizing everything. I missed the purity of watching my kid trip up someone’s walkway to ring their bell. I missed watching from the street as he spoke to the home owner and received his candy. Last year he was a vampire and everyone kept saying, “Oh, look Dracula!” and he’d say, “No, I’m a vampire.” not knowing that Dracula was, in fact, the most famous vampire. I missed him running back to us to show us his goodies and I was sorry not to be able to interact with the other adults in our group without worrying we’d lose track of our children in a mob. Secretly, I even missed my voyaristic love of peeking into other’s people’s homes. We had a lovely time with our friends back at their house but I prefer trick or treating when it’s more wholesome and less commercial. I appreciate the expensive decorations but they come with too many fans. I’m ok with a hand carved jack o’lantern on the front porch and I favor a Halloween that’s more cute superheros and less evil clowns. This year was a perfect example of how bigger is not always better. Sure, Loch came away with a lot of loot, but he was happiest when we got home and he was able to hand out candy and play with his friends. He felt safe there, and in that happiness he could finally relax and just enjoy the holiday he loves so much.

I couldn’t agree with him more.

Oct 29

17 Comments

Deliberate Acts of Kindness

Before I begin, I’d like to say I’ve been asked to become a regular contributor to the online magazine MoveLifeStyle.com. My article about the prevalence of perfection in today’s cyber world is currently published and I’ll have a political piece right before the election. Please feel free to check it out. Move is a fabulous site well worth the bookmark. xo leigh

Sean and I recently received a letter from some dear friends of ours. It was a lovely card that said “Every Single Day, Do Something That Makes Your Heart Sing”. Inside there was a heartfelt note saying they were thinking of us and how very much we meant to them. They had also included a check for a substantial amount of money. They wrote “In thinking of you, God has put it in our hearts to send you something”. These extraordinary people went on to say it was a “GIFT” to use as we saw fit “medical bills, something fun, whatever”. Their one condition was that we never bring it up. They had included it because they felt the “point of us all being here is to take care of one another and help when we can.”

Sean and I were completely floored. We’ve never spoken directly with them about our struggles. Truly only a few family members and an inner circle of close friends are aware of our burdens. Some of our problems might be garnered from this blog but, as a couple, we make a concerted effort to try to outwardly portray the success and solidity we hope to achieve, even when it feels like everything is falling apart. The fact that these incredibly lovely people could sense our distress and felt the need to reach out and help us – in such a meaningful and generous way – was overwhelming.

We are struggling. It’s an uncomfortable time. We’ve never been in such a strong position as far as changing our circumstances – Sean’s producing, my writing – but we’ve also never been in such a tenuous position as far as financial strain. The stress is terrible. I know I should try and relax but I can’t. It can be overwhelming. I feel I have to keep moving. To try harder every day. To just keep all the balls in the air. I know I can’t work any harder, but until my book’s published or I start getting paid to write, I’m not contributing in any tangible way to our situation. I’m simply a super-over-extended-volunteer and the same goes for Sean. He’s back at the bar, which he hates but it puts money into our account, but he spends almost every waking hour working at a job that has yet to garner any financial reward. He’s gifted and driven and devoted to bettering our lives, but everything he does – every audition he works on, every pitch he designs, every layout he creates – he does without a paycheck. I know it’ll be worth it. More than his acting career, which is forever in someone else’s hands, I know producing will work out because how hard you work and how good you are is rewarded in a career where you retain the power. You can be the best actor in the world but never make it. That’s the nature of the beast. However, if you’re the one coming up with the ideas, eventually people will catch on, and then they’ll pay you for it. As far as I’m concerned, the question isn’t whether it’ll all work out, but when, and can we hold on till it does?

ilsebourn.blogspot.com

Back to the card.

Our first reaction was stunned silence. Are people actually that selfless? They’re not zillionaires. They have their own worries, issues and dependents. Why would they do that for us? Our next thought was that we couldn’t possibly accept their generosity. Sean put it well when he said his “pride hurt”. It was as if their kindness made us feel worse about ourselves. Essentially shining a spotlight on our indignity. We discussed returning the check, saying thank you but no, but wondered if that wasn’t going against the spirit in which it was given. Ultimately, after much soul searching, we decided the honorable thing to do was to accept it. To use it as it was intended, alleviate some of our worries, and when circumstances allowed A: Take our friends out to a fantastic dinner and B: Pay it forward.

The giving of an unsolicited (and much needed) gift has changed us. We will never forget this kindness and we eagerly await the day we can bestow it on another. We hope to do it as our friends have, not for recognition or gratitude, but just to know that we could help and to remind us that despite what human nature often shows, we’re all in this together and if we look out for one another, the world can truly be a better place.

Sean and I feel incredibly blessed. Yes, there’s some shame associated with our current situation, but we work every day to rectify it. For every person that does something horrible like attempt to steal our car (which happened last week and left us with a mangled door and no steering wheel) there’s someone who does something exceptionally kind (like our friend who recently gave Sean theatre tickets because he knew we were dying to see a show but couldn’t afford to go). For every low day we’re left to wonder why it has to be so hard, there’s a brilliant night spent among friends that reminds us what’s really important. I know my parents wouldn’t let me die if I couldn’t afford my drugs or allow us to fall to a place where I had to pull Loch out of school, but I’m also not in the position to fall back on them anymore. They’re no longer able to be my safety net and it’s an incredibly scary awakening. Sean and I struggle every day to realize our dreams while still affording our reality. It’s arduous and humbling but we keep telling ourselves we’ll survive. We’ll survive and it’ll be worth it.

zazzle.com

Receiving a check from our friends was a shock, a tremendous blessing of overwhelming kindness, but a shock. Needing or asking for money has always been slightly humiliating and come with a fair amount of strings, but here we were receiving something unsolicited and without stipulation. To return it, simply because it was too kind seemed the wrong thing to do, especially since we can see it as the start of something bigger than ourselves. A chain reaction of compassion that we look forward to continuing.

I don’t often speak about God but I believe he brings people into our lives for a reason and inspires us to do things when we can. He can give us strength and hope and, in this case, he inspired our friends to offer us relief that one day we’ll be able to offer another.

stonebriar.rog

All this reminds me of a story I recently heard about an employee at an Oregon Target. The employee was ringing up a family and when she ran the customer’s credit card it was denied. The man tried another card but it was also rejected. He apologetically moved to the side with his wife and baby to call his bank. The next customer, who had witnessed the transaction, quietly asked to add the man’s bill to her tab. When the employee informed her it was $160, the woman said to do it anyway. She said she knew what it was like to need help. When the man returned to tell the employee he couldn’t pay for the groceries, the employee was pleased to tell him the debt had already been paid. When the family understood what had happened the wife began to cry. They were overwhelmed someone could be so kind. The husband said, “I didn’t have the money to pay my bill but I do have a $20 in my wallet. I’d like to leave it for the next person.” When the next person found their bill had been paid by a stranger they left money to help pay for the next bill, and the kindness continued. The Target employee was so moved by what  she witnessed she posted the entire story on Facebook and it went viral. She said the woman would never know the impact she’d made on so many people, and although not everyone is able to pay someone else’s $160 bill, doing what you can can when you can, can impact someone for the rest of their life.

That’s how Sean and I feel. Not only by the shocking generosity of our friends’ gift, but by the compassion so many people have offered us over time. It’s our hope, that we have in the past, and will continue in the future, to fill that role in other’s lives. We hope to take this lesson in generosity and bestow it on others. We will never forget what it’s like to need help, and how very much it means when it’s given.

Love and thanks to ALL our guardian angels. You humble us. We are better for knowing you.

xo Leigh

joinyourhandz.blogspot.com

Oct 15

24 Comments

Anger

There are days that I feel angry. Incredibly angry. Days where I’m not positive or happy or hopeful, but more like cheated, picked on and pissed off. Days when it’s not fair and I can’t convince myself that everything is a blessing. There are days when the world is sucky and mean and I worry I don’t have the strength to handle it any more.

I recognize there are so many people who have it worse than me. People who struggle harder or are burdened with more. People who have to deal with such grief and pain that it’s a effort just to function.  Most of the time I’m able to keep things in perspective, but, anyone who’s ever had to deal with a life changing event/situation will tell you, there are certain days where perspective feels impossible and all you can think about is yourself. I recently had one of those days and, as I sat in my doctor’s office beside a woman on oxygen, her tank puffing away as she struggled to take a deep breath, all I could think was “Please God, don’t let that be me.”

What I look like on the surface.

The thing about dealing with something like a chronic illness is that you have to adjust and learn to live within your new perimeters and still function with a sense of peace. This doesn’t mean you’re less scared or sad. It just means you accept that life goes on and you have to as well. When you’re able to do that you have the chance of living a relatively “normal” life. When you put the anxiety and fear aside just enough that you’e able to exist on the same plain as your friends and family. My problem seems to arise when one extra thing goes wrong. It’s like I’ve tamped down my feelings just enough to operate but, if one more thing is added to my bucket it spills over and I freak out, unable to regulate my emotions, and all of my feelings come pouring out at once. The most prominent feeling being anger.

My recent trip to the doctor was one of those times. As I sat beside that poor woman trying to catch her breath, I found myself in a state of extreme agitation. That morning I’d awoken to a, not insubstantial, indent on the side of my head. It looked as if someone had taken their thumb to the area just above my left temple and pushed it and now my skull was caving in. I took one look at that concave hole and just lost it.

The thing is when you hold it together every day, dealing with your death or your finances (owed in no small measure to the aforementioned death) or, your often ludicrously bad luck, you spend most of your time just trying to tamp down your fears enough to play your role (as a mother, or a career lady or, just, a generally ok-ish person) adequately but, seeing that divot in my skull – a possible side effect of a vitamin D/Calcium deficiency due to one of my drugs – was the preverbal straw.

I knew my horror was based more on vanity than mortality but, what I felt was “Give me a f*^#ing break!! On top of everything I’m going to be deformed?! Are you f*^#ing kidding me?! I called my doctor and he had me immediately come in immediately.

What I feel like on the inside is more like William Harrington’s painting Sea Venture in the Storm.

I put a fair amount of weight into holding on as much as possible to my old life or who I was before I was sick. I find it grounds me so I don’t feel as if I’m about to float away. I know who I am even if I don’t recognize myself as much anymore. Somehow, the thought that I might end up with a collapsed skull, an outward reminder of my inward deficiencies, just really pissed me off. No matter how calm I may appear on the surface, I am debilitatingly angry that this is happening to me and, occasionally, my control slips and my restrain turns to panic.

As I sat through the bone density test and the skull x-rays I started thinking about all the other people in the world who are living with anger and how tiring it can be. We know someone who recently lost her son to cancer. It happened relatively suddenly after years of fighting. Though I have no doubt she’s devastated, my guess is she is also angry. How could you not be? Life isn’t fair. Who gets sick versus who doesn’t seems completely arbitrary. Lovely people die while s*^#ty people live all the time. Bad things happen to good people while hideous people can live perfectly charmed existences.

Our ship coming in courtesy of mother-mel.blogspot.com

Sean and I work every day to try and better our lives. We got pushed seriously off track but, we’re fighting every day to make our dreams a reality. If we don’t make it, it won’t be from lack of effort or skill. It won’t be because we were lazy. It’ll just be.  A while back I broke down and said, “When is it going to be our turn? What are we doing wrong?” I’m just so tired of waiting. I realize what’s important. I see it every morning in my bed with my boys during our morning cuddle but, it doesn’t make me less frustrated. Why does it have to be SO hard?

As it turns out, my skull is not caving in. A number of people saw it so, I can safely say, I’m not going insane but, my skull and bones seem to be holding up under the strain of my meds and the wildness of my mind and today my forehead looks way less like I was just delivered using forceps. I’m back to maintaining and I understand, as the cliche goes, that some days are just better than others.

I look forward to the day when all the effort pays off. When I can truly breath a sigh of relief. When my general stasis can return to calm and I can meet my challenges with the energy to rise above the fear. I’m not an angry person. I’m a person who’s circumstances have made her angry. I await the day where I can just let it go. In the meantime, I’ll keep watching the horizon and trying to stay afloat.

xo Leigh

profitablesignals.com

As a side note, the day after I posted this piece Sean’s car was broken into. They drilled a hole right through the door, used a crowbar, then tried to hot wire it. They ended up just leaving with just the airbag from the steering wheel rather than the car itself, but really?! You gotta be kidding me…

Aug 20

6 Comments

Birthdays

My birthday was last week and I did that thing that kids never understand. I couldn’t remember how old I was. I remember asking my mom her age once and she said, “I don’t know. 45 maybe?” I thought she was putting me on. Who doesn’t know how old they are?! As a kid we’re obsessed with age and our next birthday and what will happen when we’re double digits, or 16, 18 or 21. We imagine ourselves “in our 20’s” or what our life will be like at 30 and in most of those imaginings we’re attractive, hyper successful and totally pulled together. When you’re young even a half a year makes a big difference. Loch is four and a half this week and he’s totally different than he was six months ago, but as you truly get older, not only do you no longer count months you can hardly keep track of years.

So, when someone recently asked me how old I was turning I said, “37. No, 38. Wait, shoot…um…no, I’m not 37 now I don’t think. So, no. I’m 36. So, 37. Yeah, 37.” Honestly, it was a struggle for me to figure it out. I was one step away from doing the math from 1975 and that’s saying something as I’m a big avoider of math.

My 2nd Birthday. First real party.

It’s not that I’m one of those people who hates their birthday or wants to be perpetually 29. I don’t. I love my birthday. I always have. Maybe it’s the Leo in me, but I’ve always loved a day about me, a celebration of my life. I’ve always appreciated the successful completion of another year. Long before I got sick I was a fan of the birthday. I’ve always told people who were grumbling they wished it wasn’t happening or talking about “skipping it this year” that they should be happy. There are so many people who would love (or would have loved) to live another year. The time we get on this planet is so fleeting and being granted another whole year is something to be grateful for, and if you’re also someone who’s blessed enough to be around people you love who want to celebrate with you, you should eat that s*^# up with a spoon.

My 6th Birthday with my beloved granny, Mimi.

I realize the “appreciate your birthday” thing might come off a little preachy or high hatted, but it’s not meant to. Yes, I’m in a different position than I was 4 years ago as far as appreciating every year, but this is not a new sentiment for me. Birthdays are an opportunity to slow down for a day and take stock of where you are and where you’d like to be. A day to appreciate your health, your family, your friends, your life. Another year has passed. Are you happy? Could you do something different? Is there a dream you wish you were following? Can you make a goal for next year? Are you healthy? Can you find the gratitude in that? Are you sick? What can you do to help your body take care of itself or better use the time you have left? Look, it’s impossible to be grateful for your life every day. There’s just too much to think about, too many things going on, but on your birthday you get a moment to look around and acknowledge where you are and hopefully find something to be grateful for.

My 8th Birthday. I loved that suit so much!

I’m happy to age. I’ll be thrilled when I reach 40, ecstatic if I reach 50 and grateful beyond belief for every other year after that. Let me tell you, if I make it, I’ll be the happiest 80 year old you’ve ever seen. All that being said however, and no matter how pleased I am to get old, aging isn’t for the weak. Getting old is one thing. Looking and feeling old is totally another. I might be infinitely grateful for my life but I am not particularly pleased with my wrinkles, or spider veins, or sagging upper eye skin (what with that?!). I’m not excited to get a waddle and I like being able to see my jaw line. I seriously considered botox this year as a lifetime of talking with my face has built a grand canyon sized trough above my eyebrows that you could drive a truck through by the end of the day. I hate not being able to eat whatever I want without seeing it on my lower half the next day. I loathe the cracking of my knees and the fact that I groan every time I stand up. I watch my parents with their shortening memories and different physical ailments and I see (if I’m lucky) my future. Getting old is tough. The body you relied on, the mind you took for granted, the memory you had, like any other living thing starts to decay.

My 34th Birthday dinner with my Toronto girlfriends (and our respective spouses).

The question of whether you’d like your mind or your body to go first isn’t a tough one for me. If I could, I’d chose to have my body give out (not any time soon) before my mind. Watching people’s bodies hang on long after their mind has gone is heartbreaking for everyone. I can’t imagine not knowing who I was or recognizing my loved ones. I think it must be perpetually lonely when no one is able to connect with you, and so hard for the loved ones who can see you right in front of them but are unable to break through. I’d rather be alert and cognizant right up to the end. It’s like we should all pick up smoking and high sodium diets somewhere around 85 just to ensure our body doesn’t keep us around after our due date.

My 36th Birthday. Cake made by Sean & Loch. Wonderful day at the cottage!

Like I said, aging is tough. Tough on the ego. Tough on the wallet (saving is something I need to do more of as I age)  Tough on the body. It’s not easy or glamourous but, like most things, it’s dependent on your attitude as to how arduous it really is. A positive attitude, one of gratitude and wisdom, can make the unpleasant aspects seem so much less. I went to the movies the other day with a friend I’ve had since we were 10 and at the end of the credits we were the last people in the theatre. Leaving just before us however were five older ladies (say mid 70’s) all busy chatting it up. As they walked out we watched them buzzing about the movie, their plans for the next day, who was going to some event. They walked slowly and carefully but they still seemed spry and light and were clearly having fun. I turned to my friend and said, “You think that’s us in 40 years?” and she nodded. Staying engaged with the world, with your friends, with your life, is a key ingredient to finding the joy in aging. You don’t have to be sick to appreciate each year, you just have to be conscious. Know that it’s all a gift and we should take advantage of it while we still can.

Happy Birthday to you whenever it is. May the next year be your best yet!

xo leigh

My 37th Birthday. 4 of us went out on a Monday night for dinner and ended up seeing an amazing Mariachi band, getting up on stage and then skipping over to an awesome Korean karaoke bar and singing away into the night. Couldn’t have been better!

Aug 7

7 Comments

The Should’s

I considered postponing my blog a week. I’ve been up at my cottage with my family and so much of me wanted to just be on holiday. The problem with working for yourself is you’re never quite sure when you’re off. You don’t have a “work day” or “quitting time”. Your weekends aren’t for recuperating or taking time off and there is no formal vacation. Sure, you can choose not to work whenever it suits you, but if you want to succeed, those times are few and far between. In my personal world of full time mothering and trying to launch a career, any time I have to myself (read: awake with someone else responsible for Loch) I feel I should be working.

This view…

“Should” is sort of a dreaded word in my family. I associate it with my grandmother who used the word often. It implies an outsider’s perception of what you are expected to be accomplishing or an implicit benchmark you are assumed to be striving for. It can be used by my mother (sounding like a mimic of her own mother) regarding my behavior, “You know what you should do…” or most recently Loch’s behavior, “he shouldn’t be doing that” or “he should know that” but it can also just be a voice in my head pressuring me to meet certain life requirements. “Should” is full of innate pressures that can needle you into a unsettled state. “Should” calls attention to your shortcomings and compares you to some unknown flawless person who is clearly making better choices than you. On the flip side however, “should” can also be a catalyst to accomplishment when you would otherwise be too lazy or distracted to complete a task. The spur you need to run that proverbial extra mile.

So, when the thought of enjoying a day with my family instead of sitting down to write reared it’s head, the “should’s” forced me to get cracking. I realize that my blog is hardly life or death. That few will notice if it’s a week late or that this week, even with my best intentions, it will come out a day late due to the fact that I am unable to publish from up north, but even so, I felt unable to relax and just let things go. I have no editor. No deadlines but the ones I impose on myself. No one is looking over my shoulder, but if I become lax about my work ethic, what will I accomplish?

…OR this view?

What occurred to me, while debating working or not, was the concept of living each day as if it’s your last. For obvious reasons I understand this feeling better than others, but for me, the concept itself highlights an interesting quandary. If today is my last day (or my last month or my last year) what am I doing alone in a room working on a computer? If today is my last day why am I concerned with work at all? If I’m supposed to be living as if I’m going to be gone tomorrow, why should I save my money or deny myself anything? If it’s all ending why should I care about my weight or make any effort with my appearance?

How do you live each day like it’s your last, while still planning for a much longer existence? How do those two ideas reconcile into one life plan?

This quote I found on make-me-successful.com makes more sense to me.

I understand the concept of treating others as if it was their last day on earth. To give people the care and compassion you would devote to someone on their way out. If you were interacting with someone who would be gone tomorrow would you brush them off or speed them along? No, you would put yourself aside and truly listen in an attempt to understand their feelings and fears. You would be more indulgent of their shortcomings and not rush the interaction to better suit your timeline. I understand that mindset and I think it would be a wonderful way to live, at the very least a noble goal to strive for. More often than not however, my lack of patience interrupts my quest to be a better, kinder soul and I feel intolerant and frustrated with people’s weaknesses. It’s not my best quality and one I strive to improve, particularly in trying situations.

A story was recently being circulated around Facebook. It’s been around for years but it never fails to affect me:

“A cab driver was waiting outside a brownstone in New York City. It had been a long day and he was ready to go home. He’d taken this last call and was now waiting, endlessly for his fare to come downstairs. He considered driving away but thought better of it and continued to wait. Eventually a tiny, little old lady opened the door with a suitcase in her hand. He stepped out of the taxi and helped her into the waiting car. When he asked for the address she gave it to him but asked if he would mind making a stop on the way. Tired but resolved he agreed and took his fare across town to a little tenement while she told him a story. She’d moved to the city when she was 18 with her new husband. The building she wanted to see was the first place they’d lived as man and wife. He was gone now, as were her children and friends, and she was finally moving out of the city into a home (that was the address she’d given him). With no one left, she knew this was her last opportunity to see her first home. Touched by her words, and turning off the meter, the driver asked if she had any other places she’d like to see again. Over the course of the night the driver and the elderly lady revisited all her old stomping grounds, the hospital where her children were born, the place of her first job, the theatre she’d seen her first play… As the sun started to rise over the horizon, she settled back into her seat and said, “Thank you. I’m ready to go now.”  Without another word they left the city where she’d spent her life. As the driver helped the lady out of the car and into her new home, she thanked him again. The gratitude on her face was worth more than any night at home would have offered him. As he drove away he wondered what would have happened if it hadn’t been him that took the call, if someone in a bad mood or a rush had picked her up, or even more close to home, if he’d driven off as he’d considered doing.”

lolsheaven.com

Every time I read that story I like to think I’d behave like the cabbie. It’s what I should do isn’t’ it? We should plan for the future. We should live in the now. We should act like this or behave like that. The should’s have a hold in all aspects of our lives. Yes, we should be kind to little old ladies with no family, but it’s possible we might just drive off after waiting 10 minutes for an unknown passenger.

The concept of treating others as if it’s there last day is poignant and effective and one I feel I can fully understand. What I have trouble with is living my own life with the same consideration. Living life as if it’s your last day is both confusing and depressing, and frankly altogether too close to home.

It’s a question of balance. We can’t live our whole life for this one day, nor can we put all our eggs in the basket of an unknown future. We shouldn’t give all of our energy to our careers so we’re burnt out when we get home to our families and we can’t give everything to our loved ones so we have nothing left for the rest of our lives. We have to find an equilibrium between work and life without failing to remember that people should always outweigh the importance of tasks, and just like the cabbie, if we find ourselves with the opportunity to give a little extra to others, “leave them happier than you found them” as my friend Ashley says, then perhaps we should attempt to do that as well.

Ultimately I think sitting down to write this blog was important not because the world needed to read it so much as I needed to write it. Writing gives me a sense of purpose, and helps balance out my role as mommy/wife/sick person. Does that mean after typing I won’t go back and hang out with my family or sit down and read a book? No, I need that too. I’m just not off the hook because no one is watching. I know better than that.

Or at least I “should”.

Back hanging with my family!

As a final thought I read a quote recently from the Dalai Lama about what surprised him most about humanity. He answered:

“Man. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he’s so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and dies having never really lived.”

Jul 22

12 Comments

Summer in Canada

I’m in Canada right now for the summer. Every year Loch and I come for six weeks or so to enjoy the best the Great White North has to offer in terms of weather, and to make sure he knows he is, in part, half Canadian. I want him to know his roots. I want him to know my roots. I want to see my friends, and we both want to go to the cottage. Summers in Canada are a magical time. I thought perhaps living in Los Angeles I would eventually lose the appreciation for the beauty and warmth of the Canadian summer since I no longer have to deal with Canadian winter, but I was wrong. Summer in Canada still holds a special place in my heart that no amount of time in California’s sunshine can replace. Personally I love humidity. My PH isn’t so crazy about it, and I have days that breathing is difficult, but I love a summer where I can tangibly feel the season on my skin. A time when the heat physically hits you in the face. I know most people hate humidity – it’s sticky and gross and uncomfortable – but I’ve always enjoyed it. My grandmother was the same way so maybe it’s just a genetic anomaly, but to me it’s a wonderful and tactile feeling of the summer.

The sunset from the cottage.

Summers north of the 49th parallel also mean going to my cottage. My parents bought it before I was born and I’ve spent every summer of my life on Georgian Bay. When I was younger we used to go for weekends from May 24th through Canadian Thanksgiving and for 3 weeks in July. As I got older I spent almost 3 months at camp but would still go for days off and early and late in the season. From ages 15-21 I hosted an annual girl’s weekend at the bay with my closest friends and now am able to spend 4 or 5 long weekends a summer as well as 10 days straight whenever Sean can join us. The beauty of the place that started as a one room cabin and has since expanded to a lovely family cottage, is that it rarely changes.

The view from the living room. Very old school cottage-y. Not much different than it was 30 years ago.

Sure we add things here and there and talk endlessly about things we “could” do, but the feeling, the essence of the place remains the same. It’s a place of calm, a retreat from the world and it’s ever progressing aggression. It’s quiet and serene in a world full of noise. There’s no TV or internet and loon calls and bull frog croaks still fill the night. Though we aspire to a cool new wakeboard boat or a zippy Whaler runabout, our old boats – aptly, though not creatively, named Red and Blue – suit us just fine. We play games and go swimming, read books and nap. As I age, I’ve come to realize there’s also a heck of lot of work that comes with it, but to me it still seems worth it. My parents running joke is you can always tell the renters and the guests because they’re the ones actually sitting on the dock enjoying themselves. I personally, think my parents could do with more downtime, but they’ve established their routines of puttering around and fixing things or gardening, and I think it makes them happy. I can tell you who the cottage makes the most happy, and that’s Loch. His love for the place feels innate, like he was born with it. I have him in day camp in Toronto right now and although he’s having fun, he’s just counting the days till we go back. It’s truly his favorite place in the world.

Lochie on the Toronto Island at my cousin Cindy’s wedding 2 years ago.

The cottage aside, it’s also just nice coming home. Toronto’s a wonderful city that’s rapidly becoming so cool I sometimes can’t believe I’m from here. There are so many boutique hotels, hip restaurants and stores that it’s truly become a fabulous metropolitan city, not just for Canada, but for anywhere. Between the Distillary district and the cool, young family neighborhoods of the Danforth and the beaches in the East, to the restaurant and gallery row of Ossington in the West and everything in between, Toronto really has become one happening city. It’s also a wonderful place to bring a child. I truly believe the Toronot Zoo is the best there is, and I’ve been to zoo’s everywhere, including the famed San Diego Zoo that doesn’t hold a candle to the nature infused openness of what they have here. We took Loch down to the beautiful Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) and spent hours, after a spectacular meal at their restaurant Frank, in the children’s learning center and exhibits. The Musuem (ROM) is awesome with it’s new interactive dinosaur exhibit. The Science Center has an entire floor devoted to children and so much to see elsewhere. We loved seeing the CN Tower last year but might wait a couple of years till we brave the lines again, and there is an entire amusement park for the under 8 set on the Toronto Island that I’m really hoping we find time to get over too because Loch loves it – and the ferry ride over – so much.

Dinner with some of my oldest friends this summer.

Toronto is just a great place to be, and when you add to it that most of my old friends still live here or have recently moved back, it’s really a treat to be able to come home at this time every year. I love being from Toronto. I love the trees and the neighborhoods. I love the beautiful old houses and how you can be in a gorgeous residential neighborhood (of which there are many) and then be downtown in 5-25 minutes. I love the subway. I love the access to taxis. I LOVE the radio. In LA, I think the radio stations are too specialized musically and too polarized politically. There’s no general pop rock channel, no just the issues or news talk radio. Everything in the States is laser focused to a specific demographic. Canada is more mutually pleasing, more ‘what’s best for everyone’. Personally, I love it. I can listen to the radio all day here. Television is a bit of different story as the commercials are pretty lame, the DVR technology is behind the times and the amount of programming is limited, but I don’t watch a lot of television in the summer so I tend not to notice. What I do notice is the politeness. It’s not a gross generalization to say Canadian’s are crazy polite. Lots of please’s and thank you’s, excuse me’s and the always classic “I’m sorry”. I’m sorry is a big one. There’s a saying that when a Canadian bumps into a door, she apologizes to the door. I’ve totally done that, so the joke always makes me laugh.  I had pedicure just after I arrived and the lady beside me must have apologized 10 times in the first 5 minutes she was there. I think it’d be fair to say Canadian’s aren’t as outrightly friendly as American’s, but polite, they have in spades.

My parents and I on the dock at the cottage. No photoshop. The sunset was actually like this.

There are drawbacks to coming home of course, the first being my instant regression to child when I’m in my parent’s house. I think it’d be different if I stayed in a rental or (in my dreams) had my own condo here, but as it stands, I come home and sleep in the same room I had as a child, eat in the same kitchen, drive the same routes, and have the same tiffs with my parents I did as a teenager. They are extremely generous to host us and for the most part we all have an amazing time, but there’s a part of me that always appreciates returning to LA where I’m the adult again. Secondly, the prices here astound me. My pretentious grande non-fat half-caf vanilla latte costs a dollar more here than it does in the States . Every magazine and book is significantly more expensive, and the booze, don’t even get me started on the price of the booze! I can see why that was necessary when our dollar’s value was so far off, but now with the Canadian dollar being just about par with the US, it’s a bit taxing. Speaking of taxing, I find that a bit different now too. Maybe it’s because I’ve had the luxury of visiting my in-laws in Oregon where there’s no sales tax AT ALL, but I think it’s also because I also no longer profit from the uses of Canadian taxes – the health care system, the roads, infrastructure or schools – that makes it harder to swallow. I think it would also be fair to say that Toronto has a significant traffic problem. Yes, the traffic in LA is horrendous, but it’s a town built around cars and driving. The roads are bigger with room for someone to say, pull to the side for a passager to jump out without blocking an entire lane of traffic or highways with multiple carpool lanes. Toronto on the other hand, has pretty much the same roads and highways it did 30 years ago but with a zillion more cars. Add the running joke that Canada has two seasons, Winter and Construction, and you get a serious problem. I feel bad for Torontoians. It’s a struggle to get anywhere.

The only other big difference I notice between the two cities, aside from the obvious like season changes (which I miss), the general attractiveness of the city (I think Toronto is far prettier) and the fact that one place holds all my old memories and the other I’ve chosen to hold my new ones, is the shallow and relatively insignificant detail of how people dress. Overall Toronto is probably one of the most conservative fashion places I’ve lived. Montreal was out there, NYC is clearly a fashion mecca, and LA is, at the same time, super laid back (think flip flops being acceptable almost anywhere), strategically casual ($300 jeans and $200 tank tops paired with $400 sunglasses and $1000 worth of bangles and layered necklaces just too look like you weren’t trying) AND the home of the million dollar movie star red carpet dress. My home town however is very much a pulled together, preppy, moderate place. I’ve always been a jeans kind of girl which seems to work for both locations, but when I read my beloved Hello Canada! or talk to my friends who have moved back here from NYC or see the business “look” of the downtown core, I notice how buttoned up and traditional this country is. Maybe I’ve been spoiled living in LA, land of the high powered stylist but I wonder if Toronto couldn’t afford to have a little more fun…

Happy Canadian Summer baby.

Overall my summers are a wonderful walk down memory lane and an amazing break from my life without family in Los Angeles. I am able to see and catch up with my friends. Hang out with their kids. Go out at night and not worry about getting a sitter. Spend quality time with my parents and let my son do the same. Sit on a dock and watch the sun set into the trees. Have the moon light up my room at the cottage. Drive a boat. Drink on patios with people I wouldn’t otherwise see and enjoy the occasional movie. Yes, I have to work while I’m here. Yes, I miss my husband. Yes, I squabble with my parents. But I am a blessed and lucky girl, grateful for all the happy summer memories I’ve had here, and all the ones I’m still planning to make.

Oh Canada! Thank you for always welcoming me home.

xo Leigh

My parents, Sean & Loch at the cottage

Jun 25

5 Comments

It takes a village…

Loch “graduated” this week from the preschool he’s attended for the last two years. I use the term graduated loosely because, unlike his friends, he’s not off to kindergarden next year but a pre-K program reserved for those birthdays that must complete a full three years of preschool. Quite honestly, I’m fine with that. One more year of him being a little is a good thing for me. What I found interesting however, is how emotional I was by the completion of this phase of his life. As I carried him out of the school after the festivities he was keenly aware that his time there was through. He understood (with tears) that his friends were all heading off to new places and he’d never have that wonderful teacher again. Though I know his life will be full of the pain of change and recognize the importance of it, it was still heartbreaking to watch.

My little graduate in his first cap and gown. It only seems ridiculous until you see them in it.

How often do you get the opportunity to cuddle with your kid at school?

Looking back at the last two years I’m struck with what a special experience it was and how much I personally got out of it especially since I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it in the first place. The Sherman Oaks Cooperative Nursery School is situated at the side of a huge local park. It’s essentially a fenced-in dirt lot that over time the co-op members have continued to improve. We now have three little houses for a library, dress up, kitchen, and toys. Five various sized sheds for school supplies, gardening, sports and maintenance equipment. A phenomenal playground with a sea of playhouses, a sandbox and equipment for the kids. A permanent floor and cover for circle time, snacks and activities, a bathroom and tons of sail shades. It’s a childhood oasis run by a marvelous and patient teacher who truly loves children. It’s also a co-op which, before I started, I had absolutely no experience with and, if asked, probably would have said I wasn’t into.

The school is able to function because each family designates a working parent that comes one day a week to do an assigned job that helps the school run. I was personally in charge of the Drama curriculum and worked on Thursdays. We played theatre games and animal charades. We put on a Thanksgiving play and I wrote a song for the graduates to sing at this week’s ceremony. Sean did maintenance, hung sail shades, and traded off with me to work the Thursdays that he could. The working parent is also responsible for assisting with activities, games, cleaning and gardening as well as attending a once a month mandatory meeting and a number of fundraisers throughout the year.

I’m not going to lie. It’s a lot of work. It’s a lot of personalities, a lot of opinions and a fair amount of eye rolling trying to get everyone to cooperate. Sean and I only decided to be part of a co-op because the private pre-school I chosen wouldn’t take Loch unless he was 2 years 9 months as of September 1st. Being that he was 3 months shy of that number I had to wait another whole year for him to begin. The co-op however, would take a child as soon as they turned 2 years 9 months, which meant Loch could start as early as November instead of having to wait until the following school year. Seeing that Loch really needed the stimulation that would only come from other children and a semi-structured environment, we decided to opt into the co-op until his chosen school was available.

Being dinosaurs with the kids in Drama. I think the roaring is a bit loud for Loch, no?

My first meeting before Loch started was at a members home that was drastically different from mine. It was very hippie, very commune-esque, very un-me. I sat silently listening to people “voice their opinions” hoping against hope I hadn’t made a mistake. When I arrived home that night I was in tears. I told Sean “these are not my people” and I wasn’t sure I could do it. We decided that anything was possible for a year and that the price – one fifth of the other school’s – and the fact that Loch would have something to do 4 days a week was worth making the effort.

All the mom’s that worked this year. I’m in the pink shirt on the left beside wonderful Teacher Tammy.

The first year had it’s rough patches. Just like any freshman experience you have to learn the ropes and get to know the procedures so they don’t feel overwhelming. You have to take the time to make friends so you’re not alienated and alone, and you have to settle into a new environment and accept that not everyone is going to get along. But honestly, until that spring I still believed I was only doing a year.

I changed my mind in March just after the co-op had it’s biggest fundraising event, the Spring Fair. When we arrived I realized what a pleasure it was to enter a space you felt totally comfortable in. An environment where you weren’t worried about where your child was or who they were with because everybody knew him and he knew everybody. A place where if a child was crying there were at least 15 parents he or she was comfortable going to, and another 20 who could take that child to the appropriate parent. I was profoundly affected by that day. I hadn’t realized how isolating parenthood was. How hard it was to raise a child in a city without family. What a pleasure it was to be a part of something bigger than my little family of three.

Wearing our green Co-op T-shirts for my work day and his “helping hand” day.

Loch and some of his best pals.

When my acceptance letter to the private school arrived later that month I was torn. I recognized it would be a mistake to leave such a positive and healthy environment, not just for Loch but for me. The co-op allowed me the opportunity to share in his school experience in a way I would never get again. It also gave me a community of people to draw on for both help and experience. There was someone to ask if I had a parenting question. There were people to turn to if I needed someone to take Loch for a couple of hours. Functioning within a co-op environment I realized how many people are willing to lend a hand if you need it. Not having family in town and being someone who’s sick, it was an amazing relief to find myself with a solid handful of people I could truly count on. When I had the stomach flu and Sean was away, one of the mom’s came to my house to take Loch for the day. When I was sworn in as an American, another mom picked up Loch from school and took him home until I was done. There seemed to always be someone willing to step up. Plus, I’d made a number of truly great friends and I wasn’t sure I wanted to trade that for the abbreviated relationship you get in the allotted drop-off/pick-up window of a traditional pre-school . The co-op was a marvelous and unique environment I knew I wouldn’t readily find again. Modern parents are so conditioned to take everything on that we often end up martyring ourselves at the alter of motherhood. It’s hard to ask for help or let people know we need it. Sometimes it really does take a village to raise a child and if you don’t have a village, what do you do?

Lochie (on crazy hair day) with his picnic buddy and BFF Mia.

I decided to keep my community a little longer and stay at the co-op for another year. Loch would go to the private preschool two afternoons a week so he could acclimatize himself to the school he would attend in his third year, but would stay at the co-op to graduate with his friends. As it turned out, another mother (and close friend) was doing the same thing and, in true co-op fashion, we split the responsibility. Monday’s I’d pick them up, have a picnic lunch and drive them to the other school and Wednesday’s she’d do it. That way, there was one day a week we both had almost a full day to work (9-4). It was a great compromise and a really fun routine for the kids.

My second year at the co-op was marvelous. Not only did we lose the unmanageable children from the year before, we lost most of the unmanageable parents that came with them. The new families were terrific and the co-op mentality really clicked for me. My dear friends were the President, Vice President and Head of Fundraising respectively, and under their leadership the school flourished. Everyone – save a few, there’s always a few – did their job exceptionally well and we were able to raise most money the school’s ever made. Loch had play dates with friends and went home with other people after school. We had dinners out with parents who had become our friends, and there was always someone to talk with and confer when parenting (or life) became overwhelming.

Me and my wonderful pal Michelle. The fundraiser this year was a flower power theme, just to explain the dress…

As I watched our enormous graduating class receive their certificates surrounded by friends, families of friends and spouses of friends, I realized there would never be a time when I knew all those associated with my son as well again. As I thought back to that first meeting, and how I’d determined this wasn’t going to be my kind of place, I could accept that not only was I wrong, I was glad to be. I learned that leaning on and working with others can be a huge source of strength and that taking the time, even when you think you don’t have it, to devote to your child is one of the best gifts you can give yourself.

I’ll never get this time with him back, but at least I was able to be around for so much of it.

It’s been an incredible time and I’m moved it’s over.

The little man and his proud parents before he put his graduate leaf on the Co-op Tree for posterity.

May 28

7 Comments

Yankee Doodle Dandy

This is a very exciting Memorial Day for me. After 13 years of living in the United States, I was officially sworn in this week as an American citizen and couldn’t be more thrilled. Now, it should be mentioned that I am a die hard Canadian. I love the true North strong and free, but I’ve chosen to live, and work, and build a family in the US. I love the opportunities here, the history, the American pride and patriotism. It feels a lot like when I got married. Though I’ll always be an Elliott, it’s my family, my roots, my home, I chose to marry a McGowan. I actively decided to become part of another family and in doing that, they became  my first loyalty. I’m no less an Elliott than I was before, just as I’m no less a Canadian, but my dedication starts now with the McGowan Family, and the McGowan’s are American.

On my way!!

I have to say I was very moved by the Naturalization Ceremony – the swearing in, the Oath of Alligiance, the Pledge of Allegiance, the National Anthem. There was a video message by President Obama, welcoming all 3504 of us to the country, and reminding us of our responsibilities both to ourselves, and our new nation. He encouraged us to be the very best we can be in order to serve this country we’d chosen. Finally there was a video presentation of American pride and landscape set to Lee Greenwood’s song “God Bless the USA”. I’m not ashamed to say I cried a bit. The officiant spoke of the journey it took to get us to this day, and though I didn’t arrive in the bottom of a ship plagued by scurvy, or try and swim from Cuba, or cross the boarder in the dead of night hoping for a new and better life, my journey was long and often difficult. I’ve had 3 different visas, one temporary green card, one permanent green card and I’m finally a citizen. Every step took time, effort and money. I crossed every I and dotted every T, and I can’t believe all the “proving” of my legitimacy is finally at an end. I belong here now and don’t have to keep authenticating it. It fills me with both pride and relief .

New citizens!!

I love America. I think it’s a wonderful country. A unique land with a million different voices, sensibilities and opinions. Looking around at my fellow immigrants as we waved our flags and cheered our new citizenship was incredibly moving. Everybody in that room wanted to be there, and though each person had a different reason behind that desire, there was a true sense of camaraderie, regardless of race, gender or religion. Everyone was enthusiastic about being a member of this great country. So, in recognition of my new red, white and blue roots, I’d like to give a shout out to some of my favorite parts of the beautiful US of A. Happy Memorial Day!

A new Yank!

American History– Growing up in Canada it always felt to me that American History was so much more fascinating. Canada had some interesting stories but for the most part the settlers were well behaved and docile. To this day we still have the Queen of England on our money and I love that about us. Our allegiance to the Commonwealth even after our independence is a lesson in loyalty and honor, but it’s not something that makes a rip-roaring story. Canadian History is a little like the Dumbo ride at Disneyland. You love it. You go on it every time. It’s safe and pleasant and not at all intimidating. American History on the other hand is like Big Thunder Mountain. It’s high-speed, bumpy at times, but thrilling. From the Boston Tea Party to the War of Independence with the Founding Fathers and their Declaration; through the Civil War where the country fought against itself for it’s future identity; to America’s presence and influence in both World Wars; American history is a wild ride. With the protests during the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights movement and the creation of Unions, American men and women have shown they’re not one to be silenced. The American voice rings out even when others would seek to quash it. Personally, I’ve always loved Francis Scott Key’s “The Star Spangled Banner” over all other anthems. It’s a stirring melody to ground an amazing story. The fact that the song is written about (and during) an actual event, and that the powers that be recognized this epic poem could be a rally cry for generations, is a testament to the ethos of the American people. I still tear up when I hear it. I just wish I could pick a key to sing it in properly.

Love her too. How classically American are they? Gorgeous. incfashion.blogspot.com

American Leaders – I’m a big fan of American leaders. I’m crazy about Linclon and FDR. Between the Civil War and The New Deal I mean, how amazing were they? I adore JFK. Whether his father sold his soul to the devil or the mob to get his son in power, I don’t know – that poor family just keeps getting slammed – but his leadership was legendary. “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country?” Absolute genius. We actually own an enormous coffee table book of Kennedy pictures and quotes. What could he have done with more time I wonder?  I even really like Regan. Sure he drove the deficit into the trillions but he was also the leader that said, “Tear down this wall Mr. Gorbachov!” He wasn’t afraid to truly LEAD. Sadly, as of late I believe our Commanders-in-Cheif have waffled a bit, but I’d like to see what Obama could do with 4 more years. I believed him when he said, “Yes we can”, and though we currently haven’t, I’m not blind to the fact that he was saddled with one of the worst terms ever to be the President. The financial crisis was like a horror show that never ended, and when you add the oil spill in the Gulf, 3 separate wars, all the back biting and party politics, honestly, who’d want that job? It looks awful. What I’d like to see is more bi-partisan behavior. Less disagreeing for the sake of disagreeing and fewer straight up crazies running for office. Why in today’s world have people resorted to name calling and regressive momentum regarding human rights? Why are we so divided over civil issues? Why in the ‘Land of the Free’ are some so desperate to hold people back? Stop judging and start inspiring.

The Military – I’m so proud of the Military. My Father-in-Law is career Navy, and witnessing the beauty and honor that life has brought to my husband and his family is a true testament to all the good the Armed Forces can do. It’s a life of discipline, respect and committing to something bigger than yourself. I am moved beyond belief at people who volunteer for active duty. People who put their lives on the line to defend a way of life we’ve come to take for granted. I read a bumper sticker once that said, “Freedom isn’t Free” and I believe that’s true. Freedom is paid for by the blood, sweat and tears of those who came before, and those who fight on now. If 9/11 is any indication, there will always be somebody who wants to destroy what America has created, and we must always be able to offer a response. Do I think the Military has flaws? Yes. Of course, it’s a business after all, run by people who are ambitious and fallible but ultimately, the sentiment and purpose is noble and deserves our admiration and due regard. I’m honestly grateful. Grateful that there are people out there looking out for us and our country, so we can look out for ourselves within the safety of that country. Thank you. We couldn’t do it without you.

Very moving painting taken from mil.pages.com

The Capitalist System– I’m not a fan of the greedy Wall Street 3 million dollar bonus doled out after everyone else’s money was lost, or the gross opulence of the Housewives of Anywhere, but I do love the free market system. There is a reason we used to say you could be anything in America. The Land of Opportunity was created on the back of the capitalist system. I love the idea that if you work hard enough for long enough with enough tenacity, you too can be a success. Though I think today’s America has made it harder for us than ever, with the weakening public school system, the astronomical student fees that start everybody in a hole of debt, and the nepotism that seems to increase daily with the rich getting richer and the poor struggling harder, there’s still a place for upstart, entrepreneurial visionaries to soar. Say what you will about Mark Zuckerberg, he’s a hell of a success story for the American system (and no, I’m not forgetting he went to Harvard and quite possibly stole his idea).

I also love that Americans aren’t embarrassed to succeed. It’s not something they feel the need to downplay. It’s in America’s DNA to reach for the brass ring every time and I find that admirable. What we have to avoid is living like we’ve made it before we actually have. You don’t deserve it until you’ve earned it. I try and remind myself of that all the time.

Good old Rosie the Riveter.

The Entrepreneural Spirit – I love the American ‘Can Do’ attitude. It’s my hope that despite, or maybe because of, our country’s recent financial woes we can fully embrace that attitude again. Though I believe we’ve been riding the credit train for too long, living beyond our means and turning the American Dream into a race for “stuff”, I believe this can still be the Land of Innovation. We created the internet, the laser, the motercycle, the artificial heart, even toilet paper is credited to an American. Could I do without the atomic bomb? Sure, but the American ideal of ‘dream it and it can be real’ is what makes an environment ripe for innovators like Steve Jobs, the Wright brothers, and Walt Disney. Heck, it’s what gives us Hollywood. Alexander Graham Bell, though born in Scotland, didn’t start working on his lovely little invention of the telephone until he moved to Boston and became and American citizen. I just hope we don’t forget the ingenuity that can be garnered by living in the land of the free. We should never stop seeking to create, or believe that we can. Imagination is at the heart of so many American success stories. We must continue to aspire to greatness.

The Independent Spirit– Just as the first settlers ventured out to see what they could find, staking a claim for themselves in this new land, those of us living here today have the choice to carve our own path even when the task or road ahead may seem daunting. Though the country’s referred to as a melting pot, we are encouraged to follow our individual hearts and dreams as we pursue our happiness, which is really quite something to build a nation on. The question becomes, what path do we choose? What new way is there to forge? If my voice matters, what will I use it for?

I’ve always loved Norman Rockwell and his portrayal of American life. These 4 freedoms are a personal favorite.

The First Amendment– Freedom of Religion, Speech, Assembly, Press and the ability to petition the Government. How amazing is the Bill of Rights in general? To set up a Government that was for the people, by the people, and to lay out the rights of the individual so clearly is something that should continue to be admired. Each voice, no matter how diverse, matters. I just wish more people would exercise their right to use it and vote. I for one can’t wait to finally vote this year. 13 years as part of the system and I can finally have my say. I may be just one voice, but one voice a million times over, can change the world.

The American Aesthetic– I love Americana. Apple pie, mom and baseball. Soda shops with burgers and fries. J.Crew, Tommy Hilfiger, anything Ralph Lauren. The American flag with all it’s beautiful stars and stripes. I love clam digger pants on a beach, convertible cars and ray ban sunglasses. Though I couldn’t live there, I love small town America. Knowing your neighbor, boy next door, golden retriever, main street life. I love New York City and their let’s take on the world confidence. I love Texas and their boots and guns and style. I love a cowboy. I love the whole thing. From coast to coast, sea to shining sea, I think the American style is marvelous.

“The Hilfigers” ad campaign from noodlesandlattes.blogspot.com

American Music– I once said, when asked to choose between the Beatles or Rolling Stones, that I’d take the The Beach Boys over either any day. What’s better than music inspired by the wholesomeness of 50’s and 60’s America on the California coast? I love that kind of music – Elvis, The Four Seasons, Dion, and The Turtles.  I love Big Band music and the golden sound of Bing Crosby, Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra. I love the American pop group like the spectacular Jackson 5, or the cheesy glory of The Backstreet Boys. I love the great American singer/songwriter like Billy Joel, Neil Diamond or Paul Simon. I love Motown and the breakout sound of American stars like a grown up Michael Jackson, Beyonce or Gwen Stefani. I even love Country Music. Living stateside has shown me I’m far from isolated in that enjoyment. It’s the only genre that still makes money off albums, and come on, how can you not love a song with a story?

I am proud to be an American. For all it’s colored history and perceived arrogance, it’s a country of strength and perseverance. A country willing to allow you to be who you are and succeed if you can. Time after time America has stood up for the weaker man and been criticized for doing so. But so many countries, so many fights, have been settled or saved by America’s vested interest. Have we done everything right? No. Are we flawless? No. The United States may be powerful but it’s also young. We’re brash and headstrong but we’re still learning, and with any hope, growing. I am proud of my Canadian heritage. I love the cities in close proximity to the wilderness. I love the values and manners. I know how to ski, skate and canoe. I say couch, howse and sore-ree and make no apologies for it. I love the beaver, the moose and the loon. I will always want to spell color with a U, and will continue to summer North of the 49th Parallel for as long as I’m able. My future and fortune however, will be made in America, and I enthusiastically embrace the country that has actively embraced me.

I am delighted to be one of the WE.

gaslamppost.wordpress.com

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