No Place Like Home

I’m sitting alone on my deck on this hot June evening as the sun fades and the forest crackles with cicadas, crickets and other creatures of the night, and I’m reminiscing about the wonderful occasions that brought family and friends together in this home over the past 32 years, and the cherished memories that are part of our family history. Soon I will move away and start a new life elsewhere, but tonight countless memories are dancing in my mind’s eye. I see my daughter, Emma, bright-eyed and smiling, hitting a Piñata with her friends on her 7th birthday. I see my son, Jaret, sitting on the living room floor, tearing open a Christmas present (Pokémon) and the joy alighting across his sleepy face. I see my late wife, Lisa, garnishing a leg of lamb (rosemary, from her garden) for our neighbours and seeing the love and pride in her eyes as our guests oohed and awed over her culinary magic. I see a Saturday in April when Mom visited with an armful of goodies and feeling happy to spend an afternoon with her as our children bounced around and tired themselves out. I see my Dad sitting on the deck with his body hunched and his fists curled on that fateful Sunday afternoon (he passed away at his home from ALS that night). I see kids’ birthday parties, Easter weekends, Christmases, lavish dinners, movie nights, lazy nights, nights of single malt scotch, paper routes, Halloween costumes, kitchen renovations, VCRs, Dr. Seuss books, stuffed animal cushions, Lego bricks, impromptu BBQs, and sleepovers - memories flood my brain and tears stream down my face as I realize how quickly a lifetime has passed and how fortunate I’ve been to have lived and raised a family here. Life is a gift; and it happens in the blink of an eye. One day you’re changing diapers and the next minute you’re helping your daughter move into residence at university. Yesterday Jaret is running around a poplar tree in the backyard, carefree and cackling with laughter, and today he is a young man working and living in Toronto, and that same poplar tree has grown tall and firm and stands as a symbol of permanence in a world that’s constantly changing. Our home was a centre of gravity, a place of laughter and tears, of growth and celebration, of nurturing and healing, of dreams and disappointments. It bristled with life, vitality, laughter, daily loads of laundry, meals sizzling on the stove and nightly bedtime stories. Where did those years go? What does it all mean? Does anything matter in the end? Today, my children having long since left the nest, this house stands silent and empty. I feel imprisoned by the past, and I don’t belong here anymore. I’ve had my time, and now another family will take up residence and create their own memories within these walls. ‘There’s no place like home,’ said Dorothy in The Wizard Of Oz,’ in one of the most poignant scenes in movie history. ‘There’s no place like home.’ Suddenly, she is transported from a nightmare back to her home in Kansas, safe and comforted by loved ones. Our home has been a special Kansas, too, a welcoming place where everyone, family, friends and strangers alike, felt loved and wanted. As I recall the past and contemplate my future, I realize that the saddest word in the English language is ‘goodbye,’ and we say it so casually to people and places all the time. As painful as it is, I must now say a bittersweet goodbye to the life that I knew, goodbye to a home that was and is no longer, a home that offered warmth and protection and whose memories will sustain my children and I for years to come and provide fond recollections to those who visited us. At the end of the day, we are all just passengers on this strange, wonderful and exhilarating trip of life. We must be grateful for all that we have been given and, as we move on to new pastures, trust that life will unfold as it should. Honour the past, but don’t stop living for today or planning for tomorrow. Tonight, as the skies darken and a gentle breeze ruffles the maple trees, the past is brilliantly alive again and a kaleidoscope of memories come pouring in. There, just inside the patio door, I see Emma as a fifteen year-old, tapping out a song on the piano as the soft notes drift outside into the hot summer air; and over there - Jaret and I are playing mini sticks in the family room and he’s scored on me again while the smell of fried chicken and exotic spices wafts in from the kitchen. And over in the dining room, our extended family is seated for a Christmas feast as playful voices animate the room and we tear into our turkey and dressing. And there, somewhere over the rainbow, I see my dear Lisa smiling with the angels, proud of the beautiful memories she created in a home that she blessed with a lifetime of love, tenderness and joy. 

Churchill's Finest Hours

The Splendid And The Vile, by Eric Larson

Published in 2020 by Crown, an Imprint of Random House

There is a strange irony in reading a book about a nation under siege when, at the moment, the world is under siege from the Covid-19 pandemic.

The nation under siege in this true-life tale is Great Britain, and it’s the start of World War II. Erik Larson’s “The Splendid and the Vile” covers the period from Winston Churchill’s appointment to prime minister in 1940 until the American official entry into the war in December, 1941. This is a period where Britain is fending off continuous naval attacks and aerial bombing from Germany, a period when Churchill’s leadership is put to the test.

Larson dramatizes that leadership by focusing on Churchill’s inner circles, including his family members, close friends, chiefs of stall and fellow politicians, and provides an intimate picture of how this extraordinary man managed to keep his country together during the early years of the war. We see Churchill interacting with his wife, Clementine, with his secretary, John Coleville, with Lord Beaverbrook (Max Aitken), with U.S. president, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, along with dozens of military and government officials. The word that kept popping to mind about Churchill in this story is ‘indefatigable.’ The man was possessed of seemingly superhuman energy and boundless faith. He firmly believed – and inspired his country to believe – that Great Britain would ultimately prevail in this war. He served as a powerful symbol of hope when his country was being beaten and hope was in short supply.

However, as much as Churchill inspired his countrymen to ‘never surrender’ with his words (“…I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat”), he was still a human being, capable of moments of self-doubt and bouts of depression. And he was not averse to feelings of empathy, as is illustrated in this passage of Churchill surveying Bristol after a bombing raid:

“As the train departed, Churchill waved at the crowd from the window, and kept waving until the train was out of sight. Then, reaching for a newspaper, he sat back and raised the paper to mask his tears. ‘They have so much confidence’ he said. ‘It is a grave responsibility.’”

One cannot imagine how this great leader coped with the nightly bombing of London, Coventry, Bristol and other cities, night after night, month after month. His country was losing the war, and losing it badly, and yet his determination never wavered.

One of the techniques that Larson uses to great effect in this story is bringing the German perspective to life. Throughout the German bombing raids, and periods in between, we see the stratagems of Hitler, Hermann Göring (commander-in-chief of the Luftwaffe), Joseph Goebbels (Minister of Propaganda), Adolph Galland (German flying ace), and other key figures in the German military. Using diary entries and other documents, the words of the German military leaders come to life and add a thrilling element to this narrative.

Reading about a man who was so right for his time, readers will naturally look for examples of Churchill-type leadership today, during the current global health crisis. Where are the true leaders who will inspire us to persevere? Where are the words of hope and faith that will make nations fight on and believe that better days lie ahead?

“The Splendid and the Vile” is essentially a story about leadership in a time of crisis. It’s a story about the thoughts and actions of a single man and how he used his incredible gifts to inspire a nation to keep fighting and never give up. Indeed, Larson has done a splendid job showing us what true leadership looks like from the inside.