Saturday 30 March 2019

A NEW CAR FOR ME?

Seated in my car, a small sedan, I am reminded of the time years ago when Jim and I flew in a tiny six-seater prop from Union Island in the Grenadines to Barbados. Landing at Grantley Adams Airport, our pilot pulled into a gate alongside a British Airways 747, a jet whose gargantuan wheels were larger than the total size of our teeny commuter plane. Expressed as a ratio? Flea:Dog best describes it.

For as long as I can remember, I have owned an SUV so why, I have to ask myself, did I say to Jim a year ago when purchasing my new car, Don't buy an SUV. I just need something to buzz around Uxbridge. You have 'large'. I don't need 'large' too. What drug was I on that day? What was I thinking?

Uxbridge is horse and farm country. So what? Well, most of our population drive either an SUV or a honking oversized truck. If I fail to make a mental note of where my car is, I am unable to locate it in parking lots without engaging my embarrassingly squawky location alarm. Look at me everybody...I can't find my automobile. Sandwiched between vehicular giants, I could swear that my tiny Corolla is actually hiding from me.

GM and now Chrysler/Fiat are closing sedan and van plants. A mere quarter of the North American car-buying population are opting for sedans. It is all about the SUV and the truck. I get it. Research indicates that SUV's are much safe than sedans. I admit to feeling more vulnerable when driving now. More drivers chance pulling directly out in front of me than ever happened with a more imposing automobile. From the standpoint of visibility, I miss being higher above the road. Hey, I'm nosey; I like to see what is going on. The view in my rear view mirror is frequently grill work and tires. Yikes! Anyone remember Steven Spielberg's creepy movie Duel?


To add to my frazzled nerves, Bloomington, Brock and Lakeridge Roads are heavily populated by massive gravel trucks. Viewing one of these monoliths sitting a paint layer away from my tail or barrelling around the Highway 47/48 roundabout in tandem with one of these giants is enough to cause my life to flash before my eyes.

So what to do? Truth be known, I love my little Corolla and don't want to give it up. In addition to extremely comfortable seating, it has all of the bells and whistles. Maneuvering and parking are a breeze. Fuel consumption is staggeringly efficient; I can go over six weeks without visiting the pumps. I just need something higher off the road and slightly more imposing. I think I have the solution to my problem. What do YOU think?



Friday 22 March 2019

YOU ROCK MY WORLD

Jacinda Ardern, you rock my world. In the aftermath of the horrific Christchurch massacre, New Zealand has been led by you with dignity, compassion, resolve and immediate action. Mere thoughts and prayers simply do not cut it with you. I stand in awe of your leadership.

Deeming handshakes or the tossing of paper towels into a crowd as meaningless show, you instead donned a hajib, as a sign of respect for your Muslim community, and moved amongst families of the killed and wounded offering heartfelt condolences, emotional hugs, an empathetic ear to grief, and promises of resources and action.....promises which you immediately kept.


Your promise of the commitment of resources was instantly followed by the covering of all funeral costs plus financial assistance for families who lost their breadwinner. You stated that you were with the victims. No hollow political words for you, your actions proved it.

We in New Zealand will give him nothing. Not even his name. Your impassioned parliamentary speech made my heart soar as you taught the free world how terrorists should be treated. For such anarchists, their message is as important as their actions. Just note this terrorist's lengthy manifesto released minutes before the slaughter began. Make the message and the terrorist irrelevant, you told us. Speak the names of the lives who were lost rather than the name of the man who took them. Main stream media, please take note!

And taking advantage of a groundswell of support, you have announced an overhaul of New Zealand gun legislation, banning all military semi-automatic weapons, assault rifles and high capacity magazines. Meanwhile in North America, Canada still wrestles with this controversial issue while the U.S. dillusionally pretends that there is no issue.

Brian Mulroney recently worried, Where have all the leaders gone? Well, Mr. M., we found one. For me, true leadership has always been having the courage to do the right thing. Churchill, despite his massive failings, was a leader for his times. You, Jacinda Ardern, despite whatever frailties plague you, have proven at this time, in this moment, to be a true leader.

What our insane world desperately needs is more leaders of your calibre......leaders exhibiting compassion, strength, resolve and integrity.



Wednesday 6 March 2019

TIME TO GO HOME ❤️🇧🇧

Perhaps it has been lying dormant just ready to bubble to the surface.....this desire of mine to return to my other home.

In 2013 when Jim and I last spent time in Barbados, we arrived at the sad conclusion that there was nothing left for us to explore or see, no reason to visit again. At only 21 miles long and a smile (14 miles) wide and after 36 visits, we had explored it all. My Mother’s ashes were spread at St. John’s Parish Church overlooking her favourite view 



and in the Caribbean Sea at her favourite beach. Our two boys, Christopher and Matthew, grew up spending their Spring Breaks, and even a few university breaks, on our island in the sun. Barbados became our second home. I vividly remember Matthew emerging from the airport on his second last visit, turning his face to the sun and yelling, I love this island. Bajans and tourists alike laughed and nodded their assent. Jim and I had enjoyed introducing our island to friends and glimpsing it through new eyes, but OMG, when we could no longer manage to get lost in Barbados’ insane maze of country roads, it was time to declare it done.

My innocent island was changing, too. Poor government decisions had and have left critical infrastructure in serious need of upgrading. Barbados was always an island of efficiency units, apartments and hotel rooms, providing great growth opportunities for local restauranteurs. Some of the Caribbean’s best dining establishments, serving every purse level, could be found on Barbados. The big stress of the day was where to go for dinner. Oh, how we enjoyed that stress. Insidiously over past years and I am sure the result of many a greased palm, five major all-inclusive resorts have opened on the island, stealing business from small local entrepreneurs and socking massive profits away off-shore. Don’t even get me going on the damage they have wrought. The bright massive windows at the airport were converted to opaque glass in an effort to prevent drug smugglers from signalling one another. So much for waving at arriving family and friends as they disembarked their planes. Aaach! Maybe time to move on, we thought.

But still our island in the sun beckons travellers. 



She may not be perfect, but she remains safe, friendly and welcoming. Bajan children are taught from the grade 2 level the value of tourism to their economy. Education is free and excellent. Literacy is one of the highest in the world. Health care is free. A large stable middle class forms the bulk of the population. Rent a car and travel the interior with no risk. Head out to restaurants at nighttime without worry. No necessity to remain in all-inclusive compounds for safety or because of government rulings.

One outstanding desire, though, has been niggling at Jim and I .... to introduce our grandchildren to part of their heritage. To see through their eyes the green cane fields, turquoise Caribbean waters, soft white beaches, hawksbill and leatherback turtles, 



coral reefs, flying fish, swaying coconut palms, grand plantation houses, calypso music ++++++. I am sure you are getting the picture.

That wish will come to fruition next March. Our whole immediate family - Jim and I, Christopher and Stephanie, Matthew and Michelle, Morgan and Zachary - will head to Barbados for a homecoming of sorts. When Air Canada lands on the tarmac at Grantley Adams International Airport in March 2020 and when Morgan and Zachary first step on Barbadian soil, they will be the 14th generation of my family to do so.

It may be a year away, but my heart is overflowing and my excitement keeps gurgling to the surface. Yes, it is time to go home.



Tuesday 5 March 2019

MY GROWING LOVE OF WINTER




Would I like a winter break feeling warm sun on my back and white Bajan sand between my toes or sitting in awe of a mighty saguaro silhouetted against a vibrant Arizona sunset? You betcha. This is the woman who fled winter to Barbados for thirty-six years and to Arizona for another six.

Two years of winter surgeries for Jim and then Mr. Drumpf’s presidency have found Jim and I remaining in Canada for the snowy season. My husband refuses to travel to the U.S. during its current presidency (After how he has treated Canada, he is not getting a cent of my travel money); I both honour and appreciate Jim’s decision. It is our private protest. While working, our fly and flop vacations in Barbados were just what the doctor ordered, but post retirement, such breaks were not enough; we wanted to be more active and Arizona, in all her stunning beauty, offered us just that. I miss both Barbados and Arizona so much so that Barbados has actually just been booked by us for a family holiday next March. All of us - Jim and I, Christopher and Stephanie, Matt and Michelle, Morgan and Zachary - will journey home, partially for a break from winter but more to witness Morgan and Zachary first experience their heritage, our island in the sun.

One of my fellow swimmers explained to me during our first full winter in Canada that because her husband hates air travel, she made a conscious decision to appreciate winter. What great advice, Connie. And so I decided to follow suit. Funny thing, with a bit of effort at first, it actually works.

As unrelenting cold and endless snowfalls descended in February, I made an effort to find beauty in each day and then frequently posted photos on Facebook. To my utter astonishment, a large number of friends have thanked me for finding the positive in our weather. The consensus appears to be that when you take time to find its beauty, you can actually enjoy winter.

And I have become so, so weary of hearing daily complaints about our winter weather. I want to scream, Suck it up, Princess. You are Canadian. Perhaps it is because my perspective has changed since entering my seventies, but I appreciate each and every time I wake up. Cold, warm or hot, I intend to enjoy every moment of my life, not grouse about it.

My biggest eye-opening lesson came from my Italian-Canadian hairdresser, Tony, who first-hand knows the sunshine and warmth of Calabria. Who should hate winter more? During my appointment this past Saturday, we watched snow swirling outside the salon. It was impossible to see across the street. A huge grin broke out on Tony’s face and he asked, Would you rather be the citizen of any other country? NO, we chorused. This, he smiled, is what it means to be Canadian. Thank you, Tony. I’ll take it!