I often listen to the radio, specifically CBC. Yes, that likely puts me in the nerd category as I personally know very few of my friends who are amongst my fellow listeners even though I know CBC radio is popular with many Canadians and non-Canadians. Recent statistics cite a definite dearth of listening teenagers in radio (let alone the CBC versions) as IPods and internet steal them away. Seems the audience is mostly us "oldtimers" but who really knows for sure? All I know is CBC radio gives my brain food for thought. It teaches me things I never knew before or presents views that open up my mind. It challenges me, and for the most part, keeps me optimistic and proud to be Canadian. I think CBC radio is one of the best things going on out there and talk of changes to it make me quake.
My favourite radio time is 8:45ish, Wednesday nights when Outfront comes on. Invariably, I'm in the car either returning from nine holes with the girls or coming back from piano lessons (yes...more about that on a subsequent blog). It's always dark on the country roads I travel and I love the sound of the various voices of other Canadians telling me their stories - fascinating snippets of the voices and sounds of their lives -- against a backdrop of stars. I'm tempted to apply to Outfront to present my own version of "sounds like Canada" but have yet to be inspired. Tune in to Outfront one night - I guarantee you'll like it.
Radio's a funny thing. It doesn't take much to stop you in your tracks and wish for an instant replay button. Listening to The Current the other day, I heard a commentator refer to the "boogey people." Now perhaps the context of the phrase should have clued me in but it didn't. My attention to his point stalled on that expression. Boogey people? Who the Hell are boogey people? A new dance troup? A nose picking group? Yes, I'm a little slow but suddenly I got it: he was just being politically correct. Aghhhh! He meant bogeyman; that monster that scares the bejesus out of us all. See what I mean about having to think? Ok, not too cerebral but hey! I wish someone on the panel had had the chutzpa to pick up on the silliness of his PC-ness.
It's said radio is losing ground to TV and internet. I hope not. As kids, we regularly listened to the radio. Every noon, when Dad was home for lunch (good grief! how many kids can say that today?), everyone had to be quiet, had to listen as Parliament Hill bells chimed the hour. For the longest time, I thought the radio program was called "Shits, the News" but eventually I figured it out: "Shhhh. It's the News!" The program would start with the ticking of a clock as Eastern Standard Time was established for all to re-set their watches. On our radio station, I also seem to recall (I hope someone can verify this) the recital of the Hail Mary in French although all programming was in English. Now this could just be a result of one of my faulty brain cells hence my wish for confirmation by someone with a better memory than mine.
Regardless, at that time, the 50's and 60's, radio engaged our brains, our imaginations and expanded our world. As there are still many corners of the world with little illumination, I can only hope radio will continue to play its part: shedding light.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Keep Leaping
To paraphrase Wikipedia, a leap of faith may be seen as a transition from one state of being (or other quality) directly to another without any overlap, that is: without possessing or occupying both qualities at the same time.
Some of us look before we leap and others just leap. We take intellectual leaps of faith every day…in traffic for example. We assume everyone hurtling at us from the other side of the road is as caring, well-trained and attentive as we are. And if they’re not, well…we’re defensive, aware and responsive. So we’ll be safe. Daily we leap into the automatic “all is well” mode.
Some leaps, by nature, are physical. On a zip line at Tremblant’s Acrobranche, for example, I had to convince myself the caliper and line would hold me if I stepped off the platform into thin air. My brain screamed “Can I trust it?” and my instincts via heart palpitations, fear, and sweating advised “Don’t do it!” in the many minutes it took before I simply inhaled and leapt into space. Or stepping again, into falling, falling, falling 14 feet into water off our local pier. I trust that it’s safe, that I’ll land safely. As would any bungee jumper.
Some leaps are metaphysical, for instance: marriage. I’d chosen my spouse, and he’d chosen me. He wasn’t my parents’ choice however. Nor was I his mother’s choice. They’ll grow to love him, I thought; I’ve made a good choice and wondered if he thought the same. And I leapt into marriage without a backward glance. After all, he had everything I was looking for. It was a leap of faith that's still paying dividends as we continue to enjoy each other's company and head into our 39th wedded year.
During a recent exercise, my yoga instructor commented on my willingness to let go. I had to trust her with my body as she contorted, massaged, and stretched it. Once again, I took a leap of faith and just let myself totally relax. I trusted her not to hurt but to help me, and she did. What a wonderful session it was!
Of course leaps of faith most often refer to faith itself. Faith in God, believing in God. Leaping from non-belief to belief requires one to suspend logical, rational, reasoned thought. Or does it? I’ve watched some of my contemporaries grapple with that leap. Many, like my husband, make it fully across the gap, and simply believe as it comforts them. Many are believers from childhood; they leapt early. Some are left straddling the gap hoping for the relief belief in a Divine Deity can bring but calling it by other names they’re comfortable with. That comforts them but they’re in that awkward almost-transition, not really having leapt at all. And some never take the leap, never approach the gap, but are comfortable living within the realm of their own rationalizations and feeling of rightness.
Take a moment to think about and reflect on your own leaps of faith. Have you leapt lately?
Some of us look before we leap and others just leap. We take intellectual leaps of faith every day…in traffic for example. We assume everyone hurtling at us from the other side of the road is as caring, well-trained and attentive as we are. And if they’re not, well…we’re defensive, aware and responsive. So we’ll be safe. Daily we leap into the automatic “all is well” mode.
Some leaps, by nature, are physical. On a zip line at Tremblant’s Acrobranche, for example, I had to convince myself the caliper and line would hold me if I stepped off the platform into thin air. My brain screamed “Can I trust it?” and my instincts via heart palpitations, fear, and sweating advised “Don’t do it!” in the many minutes it took before I simply inhaled and leapt into space. Or stepping again, into falling, falling, falling 14 feet into water off our local pier. I trust that it’s safe, that I’ll land safely. As would any bungee jumper.
Some leaps are metaphysical, for instance: marriage. I’d chosen my spouse, and he’d chosen me. He wasn’t my parents’ choice however. Nor was I his mother’s choice. They’ll grow to love him, I thought; I’ve made a good choice and wondered if he thought the same. And I leapt into marriage without a backward glance. After all, he had everything I was looking for. It was a leap of faith that's still paying dividends as we continue to enjoy each other's company and head into our 39th wedded year.
During a recent exercise, my yoga instructor commented on my willingness to let go. I had to trust her with my body as she contorted, massaged, and stretched it. Once again, I took a leap of faith and just let myself totally relax. I trusted her not to hurt but to help me, and she did. What a wonderful session it was!
Of course leaps of faith most often refer to faith itself. Faith in God, believing in God. Leaping from non-belief to belief requires one to suspend logical, rational, reasoned thought. Or does it? I’ve watched some of my contemporaries grapple with that leap. Many, like my husband, make it fully across the gap, and simply believe as it comforts them. Many are believers from childhood; they leapt early. Some are left straddling the gap hoping for the relief belief in a Divine Deity can bring but calling it by other names they’re comfortable with. That comforts them but they’re in that awkward almost-transition, not really having leapt at all. And some never take the leap, never approach the gap, but are comfortable living within the realm of their own rationalizations and feeling of rightness.
Take a moment to think about and reflect on your own leaps of faith. Have you leapt lately?
Friday, September 5, 2008
The First Time
I confess: I love golf. But my introduction to it wasn't the best. Picture this:
Mother's Day, 22 years ago. Without a shred of self-interest, my husband and my brother-in-law decided the best gift they could give to their wives (my sister and I) was a round of golf. On a BIG course. That being a full eighteen-holer, not an Executive (or short) course. Oh no. Go big or go home.
God, how I wished we'd gone home. Now, know that my sis and I had never held golf clubs before. We swiped and whiffed and trudged valiantly behind our dear husbands until finally, somewhere on the 18th hole, we simply gave up, sat down under a large elm, and refused to go any further until the boys vowed to take us out for Chinese food. That was a deal.
I remember being too hot, too tired, and a terrible golfer. Of course, what else to expect? Without a single lesson and not being naturally gifted, I couldn't expect otherwise. But that day, that round...unbeknownst to me...was to be the beginning of many more rounds. All of which, have been so much more enjoyable!
Mother's Day, 22 years ago. Without a shred of self-interest, my husband and my brother-in-law decided the best gift they could give to their wives (my sister and I) was a round of golf. On a BIG course. That being a full eighteen-holer, not an Executive (or short) course. Oh no. Go big or go home.
God, how I wished we'd gone home. Now, know that my sis and I had never held golf clubs before. We swiped and whiffed and trudged valiantly behind our dear husbands until finally, somewhere on the 18th hole, we simply gave up, sat down under a large elm, and refused to go any further until the boys vowed to take us out for Chinese food. That was a deal.
I remember being too hot, too tired, and a terrible golfer. Of course, what else to expect? Without a single lesson and not being naturally gifted, I couldn't expect otherwise. But that day, that round...unbeknownst to me...was to be the beginning of many more rounds. All of which, have been so much more enjoyable!
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Writing in a Void
Sometimes, when I'm writing to this blog, it feels like sending a missive out into space. Who knows if it'll be read? Who knows if anyone will read it or take a moment to comment? Why do I even bother? But bother I apparently continue to do if to ensure the memories stay fresh.
We're experiencing wonderful weather right now. It's as though Summer has finally decided to show her face in days bursting with sunshine and heat, just as Fall is starting to show his face in the odd lawn dappled with fallen maple leaves and apples.
Yesterday, I was the only one in my yoga class. P, my instructor, gave me such personalized attention, I felt like a million dollars when I left. What a treat it was.
Then, some of us local girls met and chatted over coffee on M's new deck. It was so hot, we had to move indoors. After lunch, three of us threw our kayaks into the Madawaska and paddled idly down river, taking in nature, cottages and the beauty of the day reflected in the mirror of the river's surface. We stopped and swam at a sandy beach - the water was so warm! What a wonderful September treat. We are so lucky to be living in such an incredibly beautiful and peaceful land. Sometimes I feel like pinching myself: it's Heaven.
Hubby and I had had a most lovely weekend which started Thursday golfing with friends at the fiendish Smugglers' Glen. It's not for the faint of heart. Friday saw rain so the Casino at Gan welcomed us in and gladly took what money we would've spent on golf. Our friends headed for home up the 416 but we dawdled up 32, hitting wonderful little shoppes.
We spent too much at Kilborn's on the Rideau (what an awesome place to shop), ate too much at the Stagecoach Restaurant (cinnamon buns, anyone?) and played just enough at Rideau Lakes golf course. Dinner at the Opinicon Lodge was to die for (no calory counting there) and hubby even saw a deer strolling near the parking lot! The Stirling Lodge put us up for the night in an old manor that looked like something out of a Trish Romance painting (12 foot ceilings), and next morning threw in a very satisfying breakfast to boot! We then golfed Evergreen GCC near Westport, with some very nice people, then dined in Perth at the GoodWood Oven...ummm! And, of course, it's always good to return home feeling totally spoiled by that husband of mine. I am such a lucky woman in so many ways.
We're experiencing wonderful weather right now. It's as though Summer has finally decided to show her face in days bursting with sunshine and heat, just as Fall is starting to show his face in the odd lawn dappled with fallen maple leaves and apples.
Yesterday, I was the only one in my yoga class. P, my instructor, gave me such personalized attention, I felt like a million dollars when I left. What a treat it was.
Then, some of us local girls met and chatted over coffee on M's new deck. It was so hot, we had to move indoors. After lunch, three of us threw our kayaks into the Madawaska and paddled idly down river, taking in nature, cottages and the beauty of the day reflected in the mirror of the river's surface. We stopped and swam at a sandy beach - the water was so warm! What a wonderful September treat. We are so lucky to be living in such an incredibly beautiful and peaceful land. Sometimes I feel like pinching myself: it's Heaven.
Hubby and I had had a most lovely weekend which started Thursday golfing with friends at the fiendish Smugglers' Glen. It's not for the faint of heart. Friday saw rain so the Casino at Gan welcomed us in and gladly took what money we would've spent on golf. Our friends headed for home up the 416 but we dawdled up 32, hitting wonderful little shoppes.
We spent too much at Kilborn's on the Rideau (what an awesome place to shop), ate too much at the Stagecoach Restaurant (cinnamon buns, anyone?) and played just enough at Rideau Lakes golf course. Dinner at the Opinicon Lodge was to die for (no calory counting there) and hubby even saw a deer strolling near the parking lot! The Stirling Lodge put us up for the night in an old manor that looked like something out of a Trish Romance painting (12 foot ceilings), and next morning threw in a very satisfying breakfast to boot! We then golfed Evergreen GCC near Westport, with some very nice people, then dined in Perth at the GoodWood Oven...ummm! And, of course, it's always good to return home feeling totally spoiled by that husband of mine. I am such a lucky woman in so many ways.
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