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The Power of She

~To my Trini She’s as we settle into phase 50 ~

 

 

She turned 50 and She is glorious! She is remarkable. She is unflappable. She has a strong sense of self. She has never felt so much power. Power which built up inside her over the years. Power She can use to fuel good. Power She can use to ignite change. She is educated and experienced. She works hard and She works well. She has an eye for detail. She is efficient. She is creative. She doesn’t stand for nonsense, knows what to take seriously and what to ignore. She is a rock. She can be relied upon. She will boost you. She will put you in your place.  She will can get you back on track. She has learned from the best and She has learned from her mistakes. She will share your joy and your sorrow. She will not forget or abandon you. She will have your back. She will give you her word. She will respect herself and if you show her respect, She will respect you. She is a teacher, doctor, chef, lawyer, financier, photographer. She is in pharmaceuticals, insurance, is an artist, environmentalist, author, journalist, nurse, activist, entrepreneur, traveler, explorer and a great many things too numerous to list. She knows when to be outspoken. She knows when to be reserved. She still works full-time. She works part-time. She has gone back to work. She has embarked upon her second career and She is retired. She still has school age kids while just up the street, She is an empty-nester. She lives where we all call home. She lives abroad and so does She. She feels like She has lived out of a suitcase as She moved all over her adopted country. Meanwhile, She has lived all over the world. She speaks 2 languages. She speaks 3. She went away for a while and came back to where we all call home. She goes back and forth all the time. One She left too soon but is remembered fondly and her spirit lives on.  A few She’s have battled illness and survived. She married young. She married older. She chose not to marry. She married once, then married better. She ain’t marrying nobody again. She’s begun a new relationship. She is a single mother and her children are just fine. She has forgiven. She has been forgiven. She has a lover. She has a wife. She has a husband. She has an ex-husband. Some She’s have late boyfriends and husbands far too soon. She is a mother, a nurturer, healer, counselor, nutritionist, chauffeur and peacemaker – all par for the course when you are trying to put good people on the planet . She is an aunt. She is a sister, a daughter, a mentor, a friend. She is a grandmother. She is a great aunt. She is not a parent but she is parenting her own parents now. She laid her parents to rest. She, just her dad. She, only her mom. She, her brother. She, her sister. She, her child. She has a “sweet hand” and could cook so well everybody get real vex when their belly full and they can’t help themselves to more. She prays. She loves her church. She loves God. She is spiritual. She is less so. She likes to play mas. She ain’t playing mas no more but loves her Carnival still. She is a winner. She is a champion. She has an official title. She has overcome adversity. So has She. And She has as well. She is aware of her mortality. She is an advocate for her child and there are at least 3 other She’s just like her. She has been afraid but She is no coward. She’s been embarrassed. She has experienced redemption. She loves having her genuine friends around her. She is a genuine friend and is (along with a couple other She’s) the reason we have all come together. She can be counted on to make sure She is always available to get together and lime when She comes home for a visit. She will stand up over and over again for what she believes in and what is right. She has faced injustice, pain and heartbreak but She is still here. She has been worried more times than She would have liked but She survived it. She too is still here as is She, after riding that wave of euphoria only to have it crash on top of her and wash her up on the beach. She is no stranger to picking up the pieces, dusting her self off, fixing her hair and starting over. She is proud of herself and She is proud of her family. She is proud to call Her friend. She likes to feel love from everybody and seeks only the truth. She can’t hear music with out moving her hips. She really laughs – like all out genuine from the bottom of her gut laughter. She gets angry. She cries. She re-groups and moves forward. And after being the backbone, the engine, the one who stands up for her family and friends and what She believes in,  She has made a difference and She will continue to make a difference. She has arrived at 50 in style and more than ever She is a force of nature. Today we have She’s touching walls in the pool first in her field. We have She’s back in school further expanding their minds. She’s We have She’s continuing to belt out songs that touch people’s souls. We have She’s athletic as ever and transforming their bodies and are fitter now than they were in their youth.  She senses the body betrayal now and again as her eyesight isn’t as sharp as it used to be and She feels a little wear and tear now and the bones crack louder than ever sometimes but…She is still moving and doing her thing, living life to the fullest and learning new things. She is still playing guitar and piano. Some She’s are still on stage performing. She is still drawing and painting. Some She’s are still playing golf and tennis. She is running marathons and She is like a contortionist with all the yoga while She is still slipping on dance shoes, She is still zipling, She is still hiking and She is still doing tours. She is still swimming, still playing hockey, still doing because She knows “Time don’t stop, nah!” Life is short. Life is for living and She knows She has entered a new phase that frankly is better than the ones before. We have She’s growing locks, chopping off locks, left, right and centre, embracing the grey and their natural curls. She is feeling more sexy and beautiful than ever because She has lived a whole lot of life and has been there, done that and is comfortable in her own skin and She loves how easy being her lovely self can be.She knows natural is better and that natural is beautiful.  She still likes “nice ting” but has less time or desire for frou frou. And hear nuh, the hair might be grey but the skin still tight, tight, tight and not one She looking much different than when She strolled the halls of SJC. Seriously though, None of She really need to wear the reunion name tag because time lookin’ like it stop!  She could show the world that age is just a number. Fifty is re-birth. Fifty is strength and confidence with no shit-talk-let’s-get-down-to-brass-tacks-and-call-a-spade-a-spade. She only has time for what is real. She has buried the hatchet with some. She has buried the past and ended relationships with others. She is particular about whom she calls friend. She is savvy. She is open minded. She will love you, not just with her heart but with her head.  She is brazen and the scars She got over the years have made her stronger. Who knew when She was eleven and twelve and She entered our school for the first time that She would have amounted to so much…that the path that She took, the cards that She was dealt, the calling She had and the circumstances She faced when tallied together would yield so much strength and power. We turned 50. We are fabulous. We are free. We are beautiful and We are all the power of She.

~Cheers to being a part of all of our 50th’s. Thanks for being a part of mine. Here’s to our connection to each other and to witnessing many more birthdays~ Love you all – Danie

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There is No Colour : Learning to Un-Learn

 

There Is No Perception of Colour in an Autistic Person’s World

 

Throughout his life, my autistic son who is brilliant has been perceived as being less so. The people that matter in his life, know the truth about him and I have never wasted any time trying to prove his worth to anyone not intelligent enough or anyone who is too self absorbed or frivolous to understand. Over the years of rejoicing through the great times and wading through the murky, thick mud of the heartbreaking times, I have come to know that the truth about both my children is beautiful.  In a time of chaos brewed by racism, terrorism and hatred I feel their father and I have managed to put a sliver of hope for better on this planet.

Two days ago sitting in a cloud of misery borne out of merely watching a half hour newscast, I heard Adam in the other room in full *echolalia going on happily about something that was happening in the Big Bang Theory which is the latest show he likes to binge watch.  His *scripting had something to do with the character Raj and I thought I would do a little test.  I called him into the living room and asked him what was going on in the episode he was watching and he proceeded to tell me how funny it was and that it was because Raj was saying silly things.  Feigning ignorance, I asked him which character was Raj.  He turned to go get his tablet in his room so that he could show me when I stopped him and asked him to describe Raj. What you have to understand is that Adam hates being pushed into descriptive language but it is something we are working on and I wanted to see what he would say.  He twisted his mouth, scrunched his nose and then he said,

“He is the tall one,”  to which I responded,

“So Leonard is …”

“Leonard is short. Raj is a guy,” he offered.

“A guy like Leonard and Sheldon and Howard?”

“Yes. Howard is short,” he replied.

“But I still can’t place Raj. Which one is he?” I pressed on.

Adam proceeded to say adjectives like tall, skinny, silly, funny, jokey…he never said that Raj was brown. Not that he does not know his colours –  I remember vividly when he was 5 and he was  learning colours he certainly realized that mummy was brown but that was it. It was an observation when he was 5 and to this day, Adam has never used colour to describe anyone because he has never associated a person with their colour – ever. I have however had to un-teach some of the derogatory words he has heard in school over the years. Words that sometimes were directed towards him when misinformed or rather poorly-informed kids saw that I was his mother. He would say the words completely out of context and I would have to spend weeks purging them from his vocabulary by teaching him in the most basic of terms that some words are just so very bad.  I hope I never have to un-teach him words such as those again but I shan’t be naive because this world is getting worse.

People who don’t know Adam or those who know him and have labelled him, will never see beneath the surface the way those who know him do.  He may have to struggle through some days sometimes because of his autism, he may have to do things differently to get by and he may have some days when having to adjust things to suit him or to keep him successful is a real pain in the ass for whomever has to make the adjustments but one thing is certain –  Adam sees people.  He sees their soul, he sees their personality and he sees their beauty because even with perfect vision my son cannot see their colour. There is a purity about him that I attribute to his autism that I wish every human had.  He knows what pretty is but he never calls anything ugly although he understand’s the meaning of the word. He does not place any emphasis on riches but he certainly understands that he has to help someone who may be poor. He is paid in self satisfaction, happiness and pride for every job he does and he works harder than most from beginning to end.  Hmm…autistic with a work ethic. Chew on that for a while.

I shake my head and laugh so many times when I think of the resolute therapists who incessantly repeated the importance of integrating Adam into the world by working on reducing or stopping his “inappropriate” behaviors and quirky actions so that in essence he could be more like other people in society.  I think it should be the other way around because I have seen what my boy sees.  I have laid beside him in that little playroom as I waited on him to meet me halfway; doing what he did, stretching out our hands to the light streaming through that tiny basement window, watching the little specs of dust dance between our fingers. I remember feeling a glorious release when we would roll down the hill at the playground near our house when he and his brother were little.  I remember the giggles and the all out raucous laughter, the smell of the grass and the feel of the dirt on my body. I’d forgotten the abandon of childhood and I am eternally grateful to my children for re-introducing me back then to just how much fun and how freeing life can be. I remember laying on our backs in that playroom staring at the ceiling, humming and becoming so relaxed that my body sank into the carpet as I was lulled to sleep by my little boy’s sweet voice.  We met each other halfway in that playroom – he, discovering the wonders of the world as I presented it to him; me, recognizing just how over stimulating and bombarding the world actually was. In that playroom where I taught my son everything he knows, I learned from him how to let the noise go, how to hear what was within me and how to tap into moments of peace.  Adam knows how to get back to his soul.  Even when it is most difficult for him he knows how to tap into that place of goodness, knows how to let go of all that has him tangled and twisted up emotionally in order to restore himself and dwell in a place of peace and love. Shouldn’t we all figure out how to do that? Think about how much less pain we all could cause if we are able to release anger and horrible, hateful or violent thoughts from our minds and hearts and return to a place of peace and love and restore ourselves and each other. Yeah, right…integrate my son into society as it is, my ass.  We should be so lucky to be more like him.

 

 

Learning to Unlearn

 

It is no secret that to me, my second son Logan, is one of the best people I know. My aunt Meiling would call someone like Logan “too mannish” because he is far too young to be this miniature man of integrity and depth.  He has a sensibility that I have not seen in anyone so young.  His ability to discern bullshit from truth is something I did not have mastered by the time I was a teenager and to quote my husband “Watch for our son because anyone who ends up involved with him will be beyond fortunate because of  the human he is,”

I have tried very hard to raise Logan to not see race, creed or colour.  It was easier with Adam being autistic but by the time Logan got to grade 2 he learned what colour was unfortunately.  Looking back on my own childhood, I would say I was lucky to have grown up in a multicultural, multiracial society and be raised by parents who had friends from all walks of life, all colours and religions but like Logan, when I was 5, even sweet T&T way back then had it’s structure and divisions that were somewhat subtle at times blatant at others.  I remember what living with that was like – bouncing in and out of acceptance, hearing derogatory racial slurs in conversations, in traffic, putting up with disgusting comments from idle limers as my mother and I walked by them. My childhood was a good one but there are things I learned about the world that I was determined to do something about.  I knew there was no way to protect my children from these lesser things but I could teach them to be better and also be better than me and those before them. It may be naive of me but I like to think if I could just put two decent and good humans on the planet, I could make significant change.

So with Logan, I also did a little test.  I was in the living room when his friend came to the door.  He had just come from work on the reserve and he made a crack about delivering watery gas to our door.  The boys bantered back and forth with little jabs about each other’s ethnicity and then went out to grab a couple lemonades from the store.  When he got back, Logan joined us to watch the unfolding of events in Charlottesville and he was, like we were, disappointed in what we were witnessing.  Pausing the broadcast, I told him that I had something I needed him to do for me moving forward in light of all the hate and racism in the world.  I asked him to stop the light jabs among his friends that had racist tendencies.  He assured me they were all best buddies and no one took anything personally but I counteracted his point by pointing to the television.

“It can start with simple jesting and it can evolve into this,” I told him. “We say stuff among our friends and no one is really offended so we accept it and then it gets a little more pronounced and we accept that too and then we have a difference of opinion and someone says something in anger and even though things may cool down and you are still buddies, it was blurted out and there is a dividing line in the friendship.  We cannot accept racism and lighthearted racist ribbing is not to be done anymore. It is not accepted and if you end it, it will end in your circle of friends.  The same way you do not tolerate the use of the word retarded to describe mentally challenged people, you must not participate in or tolerate racist jokes or jabs at all,”

My boy looked me in the eye and told me he understood and he would change it. Two days later when the friends were at the door, I was in the kitchen and one of them greeted the other with another native joke and my boy said,

“So, here’s the thing.  We can’t do that anymore, okay? My mom spoke to me about it and I agree with her.  She wasn’t mad or anything but she’s right. We are friends and we don’t want to get into talking like this so no more racist jabs. We cool?”

I heard the pseudo-manly voices echo in agreement and just like that they went down the street in front of one of their houses and started shooting hoops.  I didn’t tell him I heard them that night and in the car yesterday, Logan told me that he spoke to his buddies and they all agreed not to make anymore dumb jabs about race.  He said they actually agreed they didn’t really know why they were doing it.  They didn’t think it was funny and they didn’t really like it. I know Logan has struggled with the answer to the occasional question “So what are you? “from some idiot after they realize I am his mother.  Today he answers quite simply, “Human….a guy… a person,” and if they persist he suggests they “might want to do some travelling…read a book…get exposed, eh?”

There is so much going on now in the world. Our time is as filled with turmoil as it is with bliss – sometimes it is so overrun with turmoil that we have to do all we can to find bliss so that we can hang on to a shred of decency and sanity.  I am in the middle of my life and one day it will draw to an end but my children’s lives are just beginning and I can see that so many young people are trying hard to hold on what is real, to what is pure and what is true. It is an uphill battle and I understand why so many of our youth have difficulty coping with life as it is. They have so much more to deal with than we did and everyday they try to separate what is good about living in their time of technology from what is heinous and all I can do in my middle age is try and stay abreast of it all and not criticize them or compare their time to mine but truly support them however I can.

If there is one thing marriage and parenting have taught me is the importance of communication. In all my years of raising my boys I have never talked and listened more than I do now.  Every week there is something I learn that was not a part of my vocabulary.  Forget learning French, German, Cantonese, Spanish or what have you, I have had to master “youth speak” in ways I never imagined and as un-cool as I know I am, my husband and I are the first stop when my boys’ world come crashing down around them.  Their father and I won’t be there for them every time it happens and one day we will not be here at all and I hope their coping skills continue to be strong.  It’s like my husband says, “Parenting is 50/50. We can only hope that they hold on to that fifty percent of what we instilled in them the question mark is what they do with the other fifty and we can only hope they have the strength of character to navigate it in the right direction,”

In Logan’s lifetime he is going to learn and experience many things.  Some will be great and some will not and he will have to choose between doing the right thing or the easy thing, the right thing or the popular thing and the right thing or the wrong thing. He will soar and he will crash and he will soar again and his life will roller coster on just like any other life. My hope for his generation is that they can learn from the mistakes of past generations as well as their own and that they can release or un-learn some of the things we may have carelessly and mindlessly taught them. I hope they are better than we are and better than their grandparents.  I hope they put humanity first and that they operate from a place of love. I hope their generation sees an end to terror and most of all I hope they un-learn racism and bigotry and learn acceptance.  Who knows, maybe…just maybe theirs is the generation to turn the world around and propel us upward from the downward spiral we seem to be on.

 

*Echolalia is the repetition of words or phrases with sometimes no meaning or function attached to them. … Sometimes this behavior is termed “scripting” because the words and phrases the person is repeating comes from tv or movie scripts.

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I’m Watching You.

Decided I’m ready to post some of the stuff I dabble in from time to time.

 

This was an interesting experiment. Got a little artsy and wrote it as it popped into my head. I just wrote it down as I “heard” myself think it.  It didn’t win or place in the contest and I did not expect it to but I did have fun going in a different direction this time. (I’ve won that contest before anyway) I write fiction sometimes but none of what I write is 100 percent made up in my head. The shit I know….the things I remember..well, they inspire me and make me trying new things. This essay is creepy and it’s not sweet or girlie or uplifting.  It is about two people, the demise of a relationship and the level we can sink to as human beings who at one time actually were able to love.  So yeah, entering it in a women’s writing contest probably was a surefire way not to win or place but hey, I can post it on my blog now. It’s mine and I enjoyed writing it. I left the breaks inserted so it would read easier…a little less confusing …can’t expect you to be in my head to hear it lol.

 

I’m Watching You

     I’m watching you. You’re coming down the driveway more slowly than usual in your shiny new silver Lexus – a gift to yourself with your first big pay cheque. Don’t see the kids in the car. They must be at your parents’ – again. I wonder if you’ve assumed I’m coming with you on your little work jaunt?  A jaunt you only decided to tell me about last night, Emma? And you wonder why I get angry.  You deliberately tell me about these things at the last minute knowing I won’t be able to join you. You get to go off on your own and do whatever you want with whomever you please and when you come home, it’s the same bull shit story about how I would have been bored anyway because you were tied up in meetings all weekend long. You’ve been lying for years, but for the last two, I’ve known your secret.

      I’m watching you. Sitting in the car, running your hands through your hair, sighing. You seem stressed. Stressed because I’m onto you and everything’s unraveling. The kids aren’t respectful, your work’s slipping; friendships are falling apart and you’re telling anyone who’ll listen, it’s my fault.

     I’m watching you. You look haggard, my dear.  You’re beauty has faded because inside you’re selfish and ugly.  All your lies are catching up to you and everyone is realizing the truth about you. I’m tired of the cheating and the lies and I’m sick of fighting. And those men? They can have you but before they do, I will watch you walk through a maze of misery.  I will watch you taste a fraction of the bitterness you fed me before you watch me go.

***

     “Hayden?  …  You here? … You coming?  Hayden, I’m heading out!”     God,I hate coming home.  Who am I kidding? This hasn’t been a home in years. It’s a prison … a hell hole.  Whatever we thought we had is dead. That’s why I cheat on you darlin…to feel alive…to feel something. And now, I have to deal with you. 

“Hayden!”  Hmm…Not here. Good.  I’ll get my bag and head out. “Oh shit!”

***

         Did I scare you, Em?  Didn’t expect to walk into our bedroom to the sudden blare of our wedding song, huh?  I’m watching you prop yourself against the door, gasping. Startled, honey? Well be prepared to be scared.

***

     What…Is that…is that glass ? “No…NO, NO, NO! Hayden!”

***

     Follow the broken glass, Emma. Watch your step.

***

     “Oh, my God!”

***

     Oh, it’s blood, just not mine. Oh, the convenience of living in the country.

***

     “Hayden! Answer me!”

***

     You’re following the path perfectly. I am watching you run to the stable.  You’ve haven’t taken care or ridden those horses in years. Don’t worry, they’re fine. Careful rushing in there. Might want to look up.

***

     “Hayden, no!”   What? Wait…What the hell is this?  Why did he do this?  “Hayden! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?… HAYDEN!”

***

     Were you concerned it was me hanging from the rafters? Don’t worry. Just a couple oat bags. I’d never hurt myself , Emma.  I just want to hurt you.

***

     “Hayden! Asshole!  I HATE you!  Where are you?  WHERE ARE YOU?”

 ***

     I am watching you.  You’re running across the field towards me.  I can hear the snap of the twigs under your feet. Your knees buckle and you stumble. Your too short white skirt is torn; your hands and knees smeared with blood and dirt.  I can hear you breathing, panting, sobbing.  I can hear and see your fear. Your face is ghostly white. I slowly rise up from my lair in the long, wild grass, my fingers slowly brushing up the long blades as I rise to my feet, grasping you tightly. You’re screaming hysterically. Your eyes wild, lips quivering, body trembling. Our eyes meet and I recognize the second you understand what I’ve done to you. Your frail body goes limp in my arms and I lay you on the ground.  You sink deep into the long grass and as you look up at me in disbelief with your sunken eyes and drawn cheeks, I notice how tiny you are and how easily I could end you.  But I won’t in spite of all you’ve done to me, to us and our family. In this moment, I am not angry but euphoric.

“Why?” you manage to whisper.

“Because it’s my turn to hurt you,”

“You were watching me all this time?”

“Yes,”

“You’re a sick bastard,”

“So are you.  Enjoy your trip.  Goodbye, Emma,”

You are sobbing. I turn and walk away. I feel you watching me.  It’s over between us, now. I have closure and I’m ready to start living again.

 

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The Meaning of the Word “Special” in the Special Olympic Games

“The genesis of Special Olympics was a summer day camp that Sargent and Eunice Shriver started in the backyard of their Maryland home. In July 1968, the world witnessed the first International Special Olympics Games at Soldier Field in Chicago.” (Special Olympics Website)

red-ftr-logo special o logo

When my son’s speed skating coach put our son in his first Special Olympics event he was just 8 years old.  She told me she saw that he was capable of learning how to race and in time he could become a great competitor.  What I heard was that he was good enough to compete with people with special needs and that he would race in an easier category of games.  Dealing with Adam’s diagnosis was the biggest blow to my husband and me as parents, hearing that he was good enough to compete in the Special Olympics was not as heavy a blow but it was confirmation that he was different and that there was a place for different.  I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother us a little. What I couldn’t see at the time was that having a place for different was very good thing. What I did learn, was that different, over time, could learn to perfect a skill and that natural talent could be turned into something fulfilling, something to be proud of and something remarkable that amazes us every time. Thankfully, in spite of ourselves and those initial unfounded feelings  we decided to take a shot at having him join the Special Olympic Program and compete in the games.

His first race day came and we suited him up, explained over and over again what was going to happen and what he had to do.  We told him that his grandparents and little brother and we were there to cheer him on and all he had to do was skate.  He started to fuss and cry and instantly my husband, being the caring and protective father that he has always been was ready to pull him out and take him home.

first race

“He’s not ready, ” he said.

“He has to get ready sometime.  We have to at least try one race,”  I urged.  My husband shrugged and unwillingly joined his parents and our younger boy in the stands.

“Adam, are you scared?  Are you a little nervous?” I asked him.  He stopped fussing and looked at me with his glassy, big, brown eyes and gave me a slight nod.

“How about you wear your bike helmet instead of the racing helmet they gave you?  Would that feel better?”  Another slight nod.

I swapped the helmets and kissed him on the cheek.  “Now listen.  You are fine.  This is the ice you skate on every week. Just skate and keep going until someone tells you to stop, ok?”

He didn’t nod or say anything but I could tell he was more comfortable.  I remember that first race like it was yesterday and it still makes me smile.  It was the birth of the chants “Go Adam Go!”  “Keep going buddy!” and “Skate hard, skate fast Ad!”  Our little autistic boy skated right to the finish line and crossed in first place in his first race.  His coach ran up to us beaming and said “He did it! And he’s only 8!”  Race after race that day, Adam crossed the finish line in the top three and got the taste for competition and fun.  It was on that day that our family learned the meaning of the word special in Special Olympics and the warm feeling it created inside me and it was a feeling that has stayed with me for 9 years and will stay with me forever.

“Emanating from the mission, the ultimate goal of Special Olympics is to help persons with intellectual disabilities participate as productive and respected members of society at large, by offering them a fair opportunity to develop and demonstrate their skills and talents through sports training and competition, and by increasing the public’s awareness of their capabilities and needs.  The Founding Principles support this goal by emphasizing that people with intellectual disabilities can enjoy, learn and benefit from participation in individual and team sports, underpinned by consistent training and by competition opportunities for all levels of ability.    According to the Principles, Special Olympics must transcend all boundaries of race, gender, religion, national origin, geography, and political philosophy.  They also state that every person with an intellectual disability should have the opportunity to participate and be challenged to achieve their full potential, with the focus at community level to reach the greatest number of athletes, strengthen their families and create an environment of equality, respect and acceptance.” (Special Olympics Website)

The Special Olympics events are not about competing with a disability or a challenge.  It is about competing in spite of them.  It’s not about competing at an easier level but about competing at your highest level and over the years I have seen athletes in division 4 persist and find themselves competing at a division 3 level the following season, each season inching closer to a more challenging division because when athletes with challenges are encouraged to achieve their personal best, the sky is their limit. The Special Olympics Program is about inclusion, expectations, goals and the freedom to participate at one’s best in a sport (or sports) one loves.  It is about achievement, pride, sportsmanship, freedom and most importantly it is about fun.  The Special Olympics is about teaching anyone willing to learn that given enough patience and time, everyone can achieve greatness and everything is possible when an opportunity is given, when words of encouragement are spoken and when there is enough support. It reminds parents and coaches and volunteers that there is so much good and so much talent and joy in each of these athletes and it makes us dig deeper within ourselves to do right by them by finding the energy  and time and love to give them the training and support they crave.

Our son Adam found his freedom in sport.  It is a release valve for him from all the pressure he must feel when he has to cope with the daily goings-on in his world. It has allowed him to be a part of not only the Special Olympics team but a part of his speed skating club and high school track team. The inclusion and sense of purpose Adam gets from his sports have given him so many positives to draw on in his life. Before he joined the Special Olympics program, I did not know if Adam would find his niche in the world. We never thought he would find his passion and because he plunged into a deeply private, puzzling and exclusive world his father and I didn’t think we would be able to find a life line strong enough to draw him back to us.  Now here we are, proudly watching a young man who used to be such a lost little boy cross numerous finish lines, with incredible times and speed, breaking records and standing on podiums proudly wearing his hard earned medals. What a long, winding road it has been! What a great journey that is going to keep going way past our lifetime as parents.

The Special Olympics has given him the opportunity to make friends, to travel independently of us and the opportunity to perform at his very best.

 

Our boy is FAST and now that he is older, his ability means something to him and I believe he is very proud of himself.  He is okay if he doesn’t win (well, sometimes he’s a little frustrated with himself when he loses) but he certainly understands and appreciates participation as much as he appreciates being on the podium. Adam has represented his club, region, and province in speed skating and for the first time he represented his province in track and field.

These games are a pleasure to watch.  They are as competitive, fast and exciting as any competitive games that exist and the athletes are well trained and possess the physical attributes to compete.  It is fulfilling to watch people of all ages, sizes, shapes and challenges come together in the spirit of friendship and competition.  There are smiles before, during and after each event as they race before their friends and families who cheer loudly and proudly.  Expectations are high and every effort is applauded.  I have never been to an event more encouraging than a Special Olympics event. I am so grateful for these games for what it has given to my son, his fellow athletes and families like ours. Adam is going to compete for years to come and he is going to experience that joy and accomplishment every time in both the summer and winter games.

 

blog 10     provincials with dad

To me, the word “special” in Special Olympics does not mean disadvantaged in any way.  It is more of a description of the feeling you get when you attend these games.  There is a warmth and feeling of goodness at the venue and there is an aura of happiness because win or lose, these athletes know they have worked hard, have overcome many challenges and have given their best effort to get to the games and their sense of pride and confidence is so high it creates an infectious feeling of goodness.  I encourage everyone to visit the games when they are in your area and see for yourself why it is so important to keep these games alive year after year. See what the games can do for you.

http://www.specialolympics.org/RegionsPages/content.aspx?id=40725

Go watch. Go cheer.  Go be amazed at the Special Olympics.

I’m not the only parent that feels this way. Read more about the effect the Special Olympics has had on the lives of athletes and families worldwide.

http://www.specialolympics.org/SimpleStories/SimpleStory.aspx?id=42527

See what the games can do for athletes with Intellectual challenges all over the world.

http://www.specialolympics.org/RegionsPages/content.aspx?id=39851

http://www.specialolympics.org/Responsive/Ashley-Setting_Goals.aspx?src=homestorylist

http://www.specialolympics.org/Responsive/Revolution_for_Unity.aspx?src=HomeStoryList

As parents and care givers we have fear.  Can a person we know with an intellectual challenge learn a sport?  Will they have difficult behaviors borne out of frustration during the learning process? Are they coach-able?  There can be so many questions and technically they all originate in fear – our fear.   Then there are parents and caregivers who have given up and honestly, that is understandable. Raising and caring for someone with special needs is exhausting and complicated but wouldn’t it be better for everyone concerned if the person with the challenges has an outlet…has something to look forward to…has something new to learn with goals to set and achieve?  Wouldn’t it be great if they were able to leave the house and travel with their team for a few days?  Wouldn’t it be rewarding for everyone involved to see the person soar?  The answer to all those questions is YES.

Don’t be afraid. Here’s how to get someone with intellectual challenges involved in the Special Olympics.

http://www.specialolympics.org/Common/Special_Olympics_A_to_Z.aspx?aspxerrorpath=/Sections/Who_We_Are/Our_Athletes_2.aspx

Thank you Sargent and Eunice Shriver.  You have changed the lives of countless intellectually challenged persons and their families for the better over the years and for years to come. As Adam’s mother, I am thankful you did.

ribbons2adam recentribbons

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Don’t Look Me up and Down: Look Me in the Eye – a Fit Woman’s Opinion on Non-Verbal Body Shaming

For some time now, we have been witness to wonderful campaigns directed towards the acceptance of all body types, especially, if not solely, the various body types of women. The Dove campaign is to be applauded for giving every woman a chance to champion themselves and identify with an image much like their own on television, the internet, billboards and in magazines.  In a world where you have to look deep beyond the surface to find what is real, it is important for people to see a reflection of themselves in advertising.

On social media the acceptance of self was such a hit that there were even spin off topics borne by the politically correct righteous that made me hold my tongue until now.  Let me elaborate.  As a woman, I feel strongly that every person (men included) should feel good about themselves.  I believe that everyone must have as many (if not more) attributes that they love about themselves than ones they dislike.  I, and some who share my belief, feel that people must have a sense of self worth that allows them to veer away from behaving and or dressing inappropriately to prove to themselves and possibly others, that they are cool, young, sexy, hot, in control or whatever tier of esteem they are trying to attain.  There is something about showing less to ever so coolly reveal that there is so much more to who you are.  There is something to be said for elegance and grace and quiet confidence at every age, size and shape.  But whenever anyone implores others to really reach for something more substantial within themselves, they are criticized by the politically correct others who feel we are “shaming”.  These people like to say if a person (and let’s use women in this example), a woman in her 40’s feels to dress like her 14 year old daughter, who are we to judge her?  If she wants to let her butt cheeks hang out of her shorts or she wants to wear a tight crop-top with leggings, we should applaud her courage. What then do we say about a scantily clad  teen girl at a dance not walking away from a group of boys until each one of them upon her request, makes out with her and her friends?  Is this group of young teen women empowered? Are they controlling their sexuality?  Dictating to the opposite what they want done, when and how?  Is she empowered when she takes to social media and posts revealing photos of herself?  The “selfie” takes on new meaning then, doesn’t it?

Okay. Sure. Maybe I’m a prude. Maybe I am guilty of “shaming” other women but looking in from the outside, I can’t help but wonder what there is to gain when children disassociate themselves from their mother’s attire or demeanour in embarrassment?  What is there to gain when the persona that accompanies the outfit draws the people who want to be a part of the show for a moment, who then walk away speak insults under their breath?   Why do my sons have to be privy to your exposed self in a public place that is not a beach?  Congratulations, Mom for looking “hawt” and sexy at a Minor Level Sporting event.

In the spirit of championing oneself I am going to take my turn to lash back in defence of women like me – active women whose bodies are perfectly imperfect.  We have muscles and are generally strong and in good health.  We are the women who like our sports, our dance, our yoga and whatnot and we play because it’s fun and relaxing and we are okay with a little sweat and okay with our post partum bellies that could, in the right light look like a deflated beach ball.  We are the women who LOVE to eat but stop when we are full.  We eat junk sometimes only without the excuses and we own the consequences and do something about them. We never criticize anyone’s appearance yet so many people have no problem telling us how we are lucky we are to be skinny (when clearly we are not) and have no problem calling us names in jest (in jest my ass) because you are dissatisfied with yourself. We are the women who don’t dress to flaunt, don’t triple coat our faces with makeup yet look beautiful, comfortably wearing what we love and being who we are. So for those of you who talk to us but deep down dislike us, do us a favour – stop trying to shame us with your quick head to toe glances of jealousy.  I have been exposed to that since I was 6 years old.  I have noticed grown-ass adults  – family friends, 4 specific high school teachers of mine and worse, a couple relatives who would stand right in front of me, talking to me doing the head to toe scan sometimes even telling me what they did not like about me or what I was wearing in the poor guise of a joke. And again, I was a child at the time.  It was evident they were not listening to a word I was saying. I knew it at age 6 and I have always known it.  They did not hear one iota of the conversation because they were busy scrutinizing (or like we say in Trinidad, macoing) every aspect of my body , my face, my clothes, my shoes and my hair.  Hating ALL of what they saw because they truly LOVED what they saw and just could not have it, or develop it because it was MINE.

I remember telling my mother I noticed when some people had conversations with others, myself included, they tended to look not at the face when they spoke to you but did what seemed to be several critical, quick glances at a person’s clothing and body and did so quite frequently as they spoke. I asked her why this happened and my champion mother simply said, “Jealousy, baby”.

But, I was a child and I had nothing.  Nothing at all except my childhood, my imagination and myself.  I had what everyone had and in the case of adults, you could say I had even less so why would they be jealous?  Then my mother said to me ever so calmly, “I am sorry people look at you like that.  I know how it feels because I have had that happen to me too. – I think it is really rude.  Perhaps they don’t realize they are doing it, but I think deep down they do know.  I think they did it once, then twice and then it became a rude habit.  That is their problem, not yours.  In your whole life there will be many people who glance at you up and down repeatedly because their parents did it and they unfortunately learned to do it too. They may be smaller than you, bigger than you, older or younger or the same age, They may be wealthier, poorer or of the same income. They may be a different colour or religion than you; they may not. These  people may never look at you in your eyes when they talk to you.  It is an attempt maybe to make you feel self  conscious. In those moments I want you to feel self assured that you are perfectly fine. Just remember that is their jealousy, their lack of confidence and therefore their problem, not yours, ever. You must always draw confidence from those people and never let their glances get you down. Be your comfortable self.”

My mother may not have gone to a fancy university or held a position of power in the world but she has always been powerful to me.  My mother knew her role as a mother.  There was a friendliness about her without her trying to be our friend.  Lines were never crossed by her or us and she injected into us the power to be quietly confident and when we needed to, be boldly so.  Because of my mother, my sister and I have been able to give our children the confidence they need in what is a tougher, more bullied society and dare I say, I think the confidence she gave to us and indirectly to her grandchildren can be considered life saving.  We all hear the stories of the kids who tragically end their lives because they just couldn’t “shake it off” or “get over it” as some people like to say.  There are so many people who just love to dig and dig at you until you start to doubt yourself.  They are annoying and they make life uncomfortable and the best thing you can do is turn it right around and show them that you are not the problem. They are the problem.  They are the ones spending time trying to figure out how to bring you down and in reality it stems from their self dissatisfaction. They say things to make you feel insecure because they are insecure.  They reject your knowledge because they are ignorant. They scoff at your attempt to lead because they are born followers. They mock your talent because they wish they possessed a fraction of it.  They pick on those who have disabilities because the determination and accomplishments of the disabled scare the shit out of them because they have no courage.  They criticize your clothes because they dare not dress like you because they can’t buy your personal cool.  They like to bare it all when they should be covering it up because to wear something decent is to admit they have shortcomings, I suppose.

So while I agree we should all be happy with ourselves, our varied skin tones and shapes and sizes I do not for a moment think that people who have been made to feel shunned and bullied are not guilty of bullying.  They are often adults who have taken the bitterness of the pain they felt and instead of using it for something positive in their lives, they ever so subtly twist it into other people who have done nothing to them personally…except of course showed up looking healthy or tastefully dressed.   I had yet another one of those up and down glances happen to me today, way before I had my morning coffee. I decided right then and there that I was going to write about it once and for all.  I am going to champion myself because I don’t look anyone up and down and scrutinize them and I am tired of having it done to me.  In fact, I have spent many years teaching my boys, especially my autistic son, to look people in the face when they are speaking to them, yet so many people don’t do that to me.  I remember Adam telling me that looking into people’s eyes is too much. Too much information so he looks away so he can focus on what is being said to him yet he has learned to glance at a face in order to illustrate he is engaged with a person.  That is so much work for him, yet he tries so hard to do it because he has figured the value in it and he knows he needs to embrace some of these traits to function in this world.  Meanwhile, people with no sensory processing disorders, people who don’t have to organize anything at all in order to have a conversation give me the up and down scan when they are speaking with me?  To hell with you and your rudeness.  Here’s a news flash on behalf of women and all people who are fit and healthy who try to take care of themselves.  We have reaped what we have sown and if you don’t like it, or have that little zing of envy or hate when you see us because you feel we don’t understand what it is like to be you with your issues – too bad. Champion who you are and own it. This is called life and everybody’s got something…some shit that grabs us by the gut and we have to deal with it.  God knows I was dealt a hand and a frigging half in my life.  Would you up and down scanners preferred if I looked haggard and worn because my life has not been easy?  Would that have made you feel better?  Would you have looked me in the eye then? Perhaps you would have pitied me.  I have never needed pity thanks to my upbringing and I am glad my retaliation to adversity was strength and wellness – of mind, spirit, soul and body.

If you ever had a conversation with me and you’ve looked me up and down (and you damn well know if you do it because you have control of your eyes) please don’t talk to me again if you are going to do that. It’s rude and you are wasting my time and you are making me waste precious breaths and words. Don’t talk to me if you aren’t going to engage or listen.  I’m really okay with that. I’d rather sit quietly alone with my thoughts  for company because I am comfortable with myself. I was taught and I teach my children to look people in the face when speaking to them and I expect the same from others. So all you head to toe scanners out there, know this – the group of us you love to hate in your head because we chose to work at taking the steps to fell healthy and well – we make no apologies for the way we are so enough with looking us up and down and look us in the eye.  What you are doing is distracting, rude and disrespectful and when you do it to me, it only reveals how insecure and vulnerable you are.  Worry less about me and work more on you because you are just as bad as the cretin bully who spat out hurtful words to you.

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Does United Airlines Want People to Fly with Them?

Airlines really have us by the balls. Airfares have increased significantly over the years and because it is the only way to get to many places, we accept the abuse, we pay and we fly and we get very little service for the cost of our airline ticket.

But if you are going to gouge the public, at least treat them with some decency.  We know we no longer deserve anything more than peanuts or cookies on a flight or a quarter glass of pop or juice: we know we have to pay for what was once a meal included in the price of out ticket and oh, we pay for our luggage as well.  Let’s face it, we have come to accept that airlines rip us off but we have to get to work, we have to get home and we have to get to our families so we suck it up and take our lumps. What I don’t understand is why does it seem that United Airlines just does not welcome passengers onto it’s aircrafts?

United Airlines have had a great reputation for hating it’s passengers.  They just don’t give a crap about paying patrons.  Looking back at the last two  years, United has kicked an autistic girl and her family off their flight when simple understanding and accommodation would have sufficed.  They kicked off Walk of the Earth singer Sara Blackwood when she was 7 months pregnant along with her then 1 year old toddler of the flight because he had a crying spell. Now they had a full flight, needed paying passengers to give up their seats for an in-transit flight crew and when no one did, they picked a random passenger – a doctor, literally pulled him off the flight kicking and screaming.  They pulled off a man who paid for his seat on that plane; a man who had to get back to his patients who deserved to be on that flight…they pulled him off like he was a criminal.  My goodness, if someone really did something wrong on one of their flights, what would they do? Kill them?  How does this airline not know that what they do is wrong…time and time again. They have terrible customer relations.

 

 Dr Donna Beegle (center) and daughter being escorted out by police from United Airlines flight while being completely cooperative

 

Dr. David Dao gruffly pulled off a flight from a seat he paid for.  United was looking to free up seats so that they could transport one of their crews to the destination. When no on volunteered to leave their seats, United decided to extract passengers.

 

Look at these photos.  This looks really bad on United doesn’t it?  So my question is simple.  Does United Airlines want passengers on board their planes  The simple answer in my mind is certainly not! I think since we have an autistic person in our family, I am of mixed race descent and well, because we are civilized human beings, maybe we will use another airline for our travel.

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Of Masters and Memories – a Letter to My Father

Dear Dad,

Since you have been gone, I have to admit, I don’t feel your presence in my day to day goings on nor do I think you are watching over me.  I think, you are, simply gone but what I do have are memories and whenever I watch golf, especially the Majors, I think of you the entire time and miss you dearly. This year was the 81st Masters Tournament at Augusta National. It was a Masters of memories as this was the first year in over 60 years without Arnold Palmer in attendance; Masters Sunday would have been the 60th birthday of 2 time Masters Champion, Spaniard Seve Ballesteros and all the contenders had unique and interesting statistics that would add to the history of the Masters should they have won.  And after taking this all in, I realized this 81st Masters, Dad, is our 9th Masters without you but still we watch (me at my house, Mom and Reina at theirs) and we cheer and remember the things you said and smile as we predict the comments you would have made today if you were watching with us.

You would have loved the tribute to Arnold Palmer, Dad.  You would have been touched to see the ceremonial tee-shot and how much Jack Nicklaus misses his beloved friend and rival, tipping his hat to the heavens, teary-eyed.  The many memories of us watching Arnie and Jack on our dining room wall when I was little, flooded into my mind and made me smile.

Arnold and Jack – rivals & friends.

It also made me chuckle, Pops, at the realization that I really am half a century old!  We were watching the greats in sports from that monstrosity projector you would haul home from work because in our tiny Caribbean island back then, it was the only way people could witness such greatness, even if it was a week after history was made.  Next to you taking me around to see the costumes and hear the steel bands in the pan yards at Carnival time, watching sports, especially boxing and golf, was my favourite time with you.  Of course, later on when we were able to watch Wide World of Sports and numerous other televised sports as technology progressed, the four of us we were more comfortable in Mom’s and your room, crammed on the bed glued to the greatness we saw in colour on TV.

This Masters was beset with the obstacles of Mother nature.  High winds and rain made practice difficult and players ventured out to take shots whenever she allowed, for as little time as she allowed.  Fate had it’s hand in this year’s tournament too.  World number 1, wearing socks while taking the stairs in his rental home slipped and fell injuring his back resulting in him withdrawing from the tournament just as he walked onto the first tee. A former world number 1, was just happy to play, relieved to know that his mother’s cancer surgery went well, though nowhere the top 10 in the competition, he gave his best performance nonetheless.  Fred Couples showed that at 57, the love of the game could and sheer experience and maturity could put your name up on the leader board with the young guns right through to Sunday and Ernie held his head high as a 23rd attempt at trying to win this thing resulted in a last place finish.

In a tournament that belongs to a post Tiger dominance sport, it really is anybody’s to win today.  Of those yet to wear the coveted Green jacket, spectators (armchair professionals)  like to pass judgement on social media, using phrases like “not mentally tough”, “lacks maturity” or words like “inconsistent” and “choke” that really don’t apply to the game today.   Their words don’t apply because everyone is that good today.  Maybe it has to do a little bit with today’s clubs and balls, a little bit to do with advanced analysis of swings and stances with the use of high tech research equipment but mostly I attribute the calibre of golf I see with the passion for a game made sexy by Tiger Woods.  His drive to win, his love of being at every course, at every tournament and his love of the challenge of the game and his love of winning encouraged kids in TV land and later, in cyberspace, to go out and become stars.  Post Tiger, no one player has dominated each and every tournament the way he did because in their unique way they all dominate and it comes down to who can put the pieces together from Thursday to Friday and hold on to a lead or make a surge forward on Saturday and take it home on Sunday.  It is hard to win golf; harder than it has ever been and it is fantastic to watch.

Young Sergio with Seve 1999.

Coming into the final day, the leaderboard had Garcia and Rose, Fowler and Spieth with names like Pieters, Kutcher, Casey, Scott, Hoffman (who at 40 held on to the lead and stayed in the running right through to Sunday as best as he could) Schwartzel and slow to climb, but there nonetheless, McIlroy.  It was anybody’s to win and Dad, would you believe in a finish of the ages, in a playoff, Sergio Garcia won over Justin Rose to finally win a PGA Tour Major after 73 attempts.

At 37, he is no longer the best player without a Major title under his belt.  I remember you agreeing with the broadcasters that he was great but had something missing, some demons to conquer and no one understood why he was always the bridesmaid, so close to grabbing a Major title yet not able to close.  Today, on what would have been Seve Ballesterros’ 60th birthday, Sergio Garcia joined him and other 2 time Master’s Champion, Jose Maria Olazabal in being one of three Spaniards to win the tournament.  It was beautiful to see and even more beautiful to see the photo taken at the 1999 Masters of a young Sergio as the Low Amateur Champion beside the champion, Seve wearing the Green Jacket.

While I was happy for Sergio finally getting the win, I was disappointed my favourite, Rickie Fowler had his worst day on the last.  Rickie turned pro in 2009, the year after you died, so I don’t think you would have known of him but you would not have liked his flashy, colourful clothes and at the time, longish hair.  You would have said he was young and silly and dressed like a clown and I would have countered your point by drawing your attention to Payne Stewart, whom you loved and we would have agreed to disagree.  You would have fallen in love with Fowler’s game at the  2015 Players Championship where he was the victor.  You would have quietly admired the his stats in tournaments especially his top 5 finishes in Major tournaments . You would have admired him, but quietly so I wouldn’t call you out on it.

Rickie is quiet on the course in spite of his boldly coloured threads.  He doesn’t have loud outbursts, does not throw tantrums or curse and is more of an observer – a thinker.  He was not a country club kid, but a driving range kid who did what needed to be done to become a pro golfer.  Young and willing to define himself when he became a professional on tour, he grew up before judgemental eyes of television broadcasters, viewers and on social media which reaches people more than television and radio have ever and will ever reach.  In spite of the scrutiny, he continues to be himself, continues to redefine himself as he gets older.  He is blessed with a gift for golf – he has a long drive for his small stature and has a hell of a short game. Rickie is the Bobby Jones of our era when it comes to the putter, Dad.  He sees the green, the grass, and reads it all like a book and can visualize that ball dropping into the hole.  It’s like he can play a recording of what he wants to have happen in his mind.  He is also blessed with articulation and he is a smart and good looking kid  – the two latter qualities also can be considered a curse especially when it comes to the haters on social media who generally are a bunch of jealous twits.  He emulates the greats, especially Palmer and is well liked on tour and by fans.  His time can be now but he is human and though he has won on tour, with Sergio’s victory, he is now the best player yet to win a major and whenever he does, it will be great; it will be historic, epic and truly deserved.  He reminds me a bit of our Logan (though Logan will disagree because he is a teenager and God forbid he agrees with his mother).  He is talented at his sport because he is a hard worker. He is decent and is a good man and we see that unfolding in our Logan as he grows up .  He is generous and has an appreciation for his family and fans and people in general and shows great sportsmanship and is a good role model.  In the hands of these young gentlemen, Dad, I believe golf’s greatness will continue to shine for generations.  The sport has lowered the walls that once made the game elitist and stodgy.  The game is everyman’s game more than it has ever been and it is nice to see that the networks have figured out how to balance their cameras on skin tones darker than white.

It was a Masters of memories for the organizers, the players, the broadcasters, the fans, viewers and for me.  I remember you most fondly during the Masters and I know one day I’ll get to be there and see it in person.  I’ll see it for both of us because I remember how you so loved this game.  The grand boys have chosen different sports to excel in, Dad. It makes me a bit sad that golf is recreational for them but they have made their choice and that is what matters.  We will get out more now that they are older but my guys’ hearts are on the ice and Luciano’s is in extreme sports.  I wish we got more rounds in, you and I, but I won’t forget the ones we had.  I am flattered to this day that you admired my “natural swing” as you called it and I remember all the tips you gave me and I still have that hand written list of clubs that you said were my strongest weapons in my golf bag…which Dad, was your bag.  I still putt left and right handed and on a good day, I can drive the ball long …sometimes longer than the occasional guy and I think you would have enjoyed playing with me.  I’ve made a promise to myself to get out and play more often this year and I will remember you when I tee up; remember you when I putt and remember you when I put that bag on my shoulder.  There is no game more challenging, unpredictable, unforgiving yet fabulously rewarding than golf.  There is no game more scenic, more strategic or more refined and I am glad you made it part of your world and mine.  Till next Sunday, my dear Dad, when I tune in again and remember you and your love affair with the greatest gentleman’s game.

Danie

 

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50

I am fifty. Well, fifty years and one week tomorrow.  I had a wonderful birthday, filled with love and joy and a realization of just how much I mean to the people in my life who really matter to me.  I have really good friends and a dear family and in spite of the uphill battle we have with raising Adam sometimes, life is good and I am fortunate and blessed.

At my surprise party one week before my birthday, it hit me that 50 is a big number.  A true milestone, I was lucky to make it to 50. I have been on the planet for half a century. I have lived a whole lot of life with all kinds of twists and turns.  I have seen historic things, heartbreaking things, beautiful things. I still witness war and crime and a world society that has tricked itself into thinking it has changed, but as we all can see, history repeats itself…just take a few minutes to look at the news and you’ll know what I mean.  I have lived 50 years and I hope in the years to come I will see an end to racism, bullying, shaming, hatred, war and terrorism.  I hope to see a cure for dreadful illnesses, I hope to see social media become socially responsible and that we care for our elders with respect and love as from it is them from whom we came. Without them, there would be no technology, no progress as they are the proverbial platform upon which the future was once built.  Over the years I have enjoyed ageing.  Sure age is just a number but wear and tear of the body especially an active one is real and sometimes painful. As I have gotten older, I know what to take seriously and what to let slide.  I know in times when things are grim, “they too shall pass” because they always do and things do get better. Life is not here to drown you in sorrow,  It is a journey filled with as many ups as there downs and we humans (when we allow ourselves to be )are strong and we can make each other stronger. I hope that as a human race we become selfless and regard others before ourselves and that we can acknowledge that we aren’t perfect and we definitely aren’t “the shit” and that once in a while, other people are actually better at something than we are and they should be commended and respected for it.  I still hold hope for the future as I am trying to  put two decent human beings on the planet and I know many parents who are working hard to do the same in spite of all the triviality and materialism about us.  I have hope because somehow, I still think there are many wonderful youngsters who just might turn this world of cretins around.

Looking back on my life, I would say my youth was a no brainer.  I did not struggle with any real issues, my problems were small and I had two solid parents who did a good job raising me and my sister – they really did the best with the tools they had at the time but most of all, we felt how much they loved us.  Fast forward through a life filled with the joy of meeting wonderful people whom I hold close to my heart and call friend, to meeting and marrying the love of my life and bearing our two beautiful boys.  I made my way through the grief of Adam’s diagnosis to mustering up all the strength I could to help him, enhance him and keep Logan’s life as “regular” as possible without him feeling every day like he had to wait or do things differently because his brother has autism.  With Tom’s help, I had to work hard to not have autism break our family apart.  With Tom and Logan and many knowledgeable people, we got Adam to where he is today, and even though puberty has been unkind, we feel strongly that Adam’s future is really bright.  Because of Tom, this family of ours has had it’s share of plain old fun when we needed it the most and together we made certain that we will always hold on to hope.

Over the years I’ve started a career, did many jobs, continued a career, paused it to raise my children, changed a career and started a business with my husband. I’ve taught my kid how to deal with a bully, taught the other how to talk well beyond the years when he should have been speaking.  I’ve done the mothering and then some and while I have no regrets,I do have unfulfilled wishes of my youth like many people, I suppose. Life has been harder than I had anticipated, but it has been more wondrous than I ever expected.  Logan asked me the other day what it was life to have seen this many birthdays and that’s when a little bit of fear set in.  I desperately want to see his and his brother’s story play out.  I want to be here for as much of it as I possibly can.  I want to retire with my husband and see places and do the things we often speak about.  I worry that I don’t know if I have 5, 10, 20, or 30 more years on this planet.  Will I make it to my 80’s?  Will Tom?  What is in store for us in the years to come?  And then I realize, this year in that regard is like no other and I just have to live, love and embrace life for all it has to offer.

So with mammograms and colonoscopies and menopause issues par for the course from this age on, I will get checked when I have to, work a little harder at eating better, resting more and keep on moving and exercising and topically replacing that ever diminishing progesterone and then, I will just go out there and live.  I will love.  I will keep learning and I will laugh, basking in the glory of the wisdom and freedom that comes with age.  I feel beautiful, I feel settled and I feel happy.  All I want is peace.  Peace with whom I interact, in my home, peace in my heart and mind and peace surrounding me and my family for the rest of our days. God bless me and my loved ones and dear friends and grant that we have the health and strength to head into many years beyond. We have lived a lot, learned a lot and for the most part, most of us have figured it out.

I have celebrated age 50 with so many of my friends, each birthday of each woman, a blessed and happy experience.  It has been an honour to share and to continue to share these “fiftieth’ s” until the end of this year hopeful that we will do it all again for our 60th birthdays.

 

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Couldn’t Come Up With A Title.

love-1

As 2016 morphed into 2017, work surged. Busy at work is a good thing but there is also an ugly side to it as well.  An increase in volume means an increase in revenue, an increase in expenditure and in working hours, increased tiredness and shorter fuses.  Add to that raising 2 teenage boys, one a bit more difficult at times than the other, perimenopause, running a household and well, living life.  I thought I had a head start when I made sure we transitioned from the Christmas mode early enough in anticipation of the workload, but really, we all know you just can’t be ahead of the game all the time, especially when you want to be or feel like you have to be.  Very quickly things began to get on my nerves and while I tried to stay even keeled and patient, I was feeling like I just wanted to scrape off everything and everyone close to me. I literally felt like life was clawing and scratching its way all over me and it was overwhelming.

Needless to say when that happens around here, so do some pretty intense and “spirited” arguments followed by most certain tension.  Over the years Tom and I have been very real.  We have a good, strong marriage but certainly not a perfect one but we work at it and have fun with it as well.  I have known people who have said they never argue or fight ( oddly enough one person who has said this to me so many years ago in my living room in Brockville with her cutesie, shitty little smirk comes to mind.  She has since divorced her husband … go figure little Miss goodie Two Shoes Critical ).  Living together and working together has been a skill my husband and I have mostly mastered over the years and I say mostly because there are some damn days when mmmmm boy….OYE!  Alas, we are human.  It’s been better lately and we are getting through the crunch of the workload and we are getting back to the system we are used to but occasionally we both sense that the other is at the edge of tolerance.  We haven’t really made time to do our usual Netflix marathon.  We have been out to lunch but have been too mentally wiped to really talk and of course we are being supportive of Logan as he writes his first high school exams – being available to listen to his presentations, be there to help him if he is stuck with the studying and of course to drive him and Adam to practices and meets and appointments.  Add a dash of Adam’s occasional particular brand of autistic adolescent B.S and you get two people who generally enjoy spending time together, just happy to sit in different rooms and of late, fall asleep long before the other comes to bed.

This self preservation and intentional and mindful increase in patience and tolerance of each other has shown me that working towards building a successful business is draining.  Don’t get me wrong, we earned it, we want it and we are doing it but the lesson here is the same lesson one learns when times are tight and there is not a dollar to spare.  The lesson one learns when the baby has colic and has screamed for 24 hours and you instantly had him off without so much as a thought or even a “hello” to the person who has been grinding it out at work all day.  It is the lesson that teaches you about making an even greater effort to keep the relationship healthy.   You have to make a greater effort to smile, to greet and to listen.  You have to make a greater effort to know when you have to cut into your unwind time, tablet time, computer time or TV time and include that person you fell in love with.  You have dig deep inside yourself and make a great effort to make the time you spend together become time spent together and you have to make a greater effort to leave work at the doorstep.

We have a good but busy year ahead of us.  The tension is there but we have a better awareness of it, I feel.  I’d like to get back to being mushed together on the couch watching some TV series and I’d like us to be in bed at the same time, falling asleep at the same time and waking up late and staying in bed chatting about our random heavy duty topics without having to jump out of bed and get a head start on the workday.  I hope our lunches and dinners out can be free of the distraction of these initial busy first months or that these months will fly by and we can re-connect over a meal the way we usually do.

At least, though we …he… has taken a step toward that in the form of the grand gesture of us going to New York for my 50th birthday.  He has never been and I love going there and I am looking forward to sharing this experience with him.  I hope when we are there we let go of everything for the four days and I hope that time away from our usual environment will allow us to experience that familiar feeling we both love about marriage – the feeling of being “at home” when you are with the person you love. We are lucky, Tom and me.  We have had a hell of a ride on the fastest of roller coasters. Anyone who knows post-baby Daniella, will tell you I am no longer a willing coaster rider but on the life ride with Tom, in this marriage, in this crazy world with these two humans we are trying to raise to be good men, I have always felt safe with him.  As much as I may question or doubt, I can honestly say, he has always stuck to his word when he says everything will be alright.  He makes things right. He makes them better and he makes bad experiences fade into the past.  We have loved passionately, fought passionately, been worried, afraid,  hopeful  and happy on this life ride.  We have seen dark times and the brightest days and his optimism and my perseverance have complimented each other in a way that is demonstrated by the characteristics of our sons.  In some bizarre way, we work and well… we fit.  And as maddening as we can be to each other, and as polar opposite as we are there, is no one I would rather love, kiss, hug, lay beside, work with, sigh at, roll my eyes at and be frustrated with. I was reminded of that this week when I heard that my friend’s husband passed away and just this second when Tom told me one of his radio bosses (not much older than we are) also passed.  I have seen my clients go through it and I have seen my mother deal with it and I can see how painful, frightening and unfair it is to have the person you love leave you behind.  Life is so unpredictable and can change in the blink of an eye.  I hope for the retirement brochure image.  You know. that idyllic scene of two people travelling and exploring a new phase of life in their more mature years.  I yearn for it, pray for it, though I know it is only 50% up to us to get there as the other 50% is pure fate. I also fear not getting to experience it because I want it so badly.

So, tomorrow is another busy day.  He is booked solid with appointments and I will divide my time between getting my office into work space condition, touching base with a few clients about some projects on the go and going through and responding to our e-mails.  We will be working as a unit in the most separate of ways, ploughing through this next month, coming up for air when we get to the Big Apple. This is our life.  It’s not perfect and it is not always fair and it is not always all shits and giggles but I think it’s pretty great, even when it sucks because I’d rather it suck with my three men than without them.  Whether you are in a state of bliss, state of despair or in some kind of weird funk like me, I wish you peace and I wish you the good sense to always reflect on what you have and what you stand to lose.  ( Of course, if your situation is utterly shite and you need to move on, please do, because this is not about putting up or being content to settle with a terrible person or situation no matter what  – let’s be clear on that).  Here’s to clarity, to ploughing through tough times to get to the better times and here’s to time well spent with those well loved.