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 ooh and awe 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 iconic 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 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.

My European Travelogue - London to Thessaloniki (1982)

I am pleased to report that I have self-published my first e-book on Amazon. The book is called 'My European Travelogue: From London to Thessaloniki (1982),' and it's a series of diary entries and photos from a solo cycling trip I took through England and Europe in 1982. Thirty-seven years after the fact - it's never too late to become a first time published author.

My European Travelogue is free to read if you subscribe to Amazon's Kindle Unlimited service. For those who don't have Kindle Unlimited, the cost of the book is $4.62 Canadian. Here's a link to my book on Amazon.ca. 

The tools available for self-publishing on Amazon are straightforward and easy to use. I would recommend this platform for any would-be authors looking to self-publish their work.

Running To Feel Alive

"Beyond the very extreme of fatigue and distress, we may find amounts of ease and power we never dreamed ourselves to own; sources of strength never taxed at all because we never push through the obstruction." - William James

On a chilly Saturday morning, about a year ago, I met two members of a local running group called Run Georgina for the first time, and I joined them on a run. At the time, I recalled the old Groucho Max maxim: "I would never want to belong to a club that would have me as a member."

Actually, never having joined a running group before, I didn’t know what to expect. I was unsure if my athletic performance would measure up.

Fortunately, the two Run Georgina members made me feel welcome. They accommodated my slow pace and even stopped several times so that I could catch my breath. On that first run, we completed a 10 km route along Lake Drive in Jackson’s Point. I have been a runner for more than 15 years and have had great running partners, but running with a group was a different experience altogether, and it felt good.

Throughout the winter and spring of 2018, one group run led to another, and another. Over the past year, I have participated in more than 160 group runs and met other members of Run Georgina, some of whom have become close friends. We have run in all seasons, in single-track forests, on ice-covered lakes, in the pouring rain and in the sweltering heat. There is something empowering about being outdoors and running with friends – it produces a sense of community and belonging, and all of life’s problems seem to fade away.

Reflecting on the past year, I am proud to say that Run Georgina has become like my second family, and I'm grateful to be part of such a congenial bunch. The group has inspired me to improve my running fitness beyond what I thought possible - to the point where I achieved a PB at a half marathon last October (2:05). Plus, I’ve registered for my first 30 km race (Around the Bay) in March and my first marathon in Toronto, in May. I'm not saying this to boast, but to share with others the benefits of stepping out and getting involved. Making a change in your life literally starts with taking that first step and, in this case, taking it with fellow runners has made the journey incredibly fun and enjoyable.

Starting a new venture or stepping outside your comfort zone can be scary. But, never let fear, apathy or age stand in your way: I'll be 60 this year, and I’ve never been fitter in my life. I’m looking forward to achieving new running milestones and helping others achieve theirs in the months and years ahead. Consistent running produces many positive benefits for one's mental and physical health. In my case, increasing the frequency, distance and intensity of my runs (and being part of a running community) has helped me cope with difficult personal circumstances, enriched my life immeasurably and given me a deeper appreciation for the sport.

Stacey Allison, the first female American climber to summit Mount Everest, once said, “You find your talent, and see how far it will take you. You do what makes you feel the most alive.” As you improve as a runner, and enjoy the fresh air, the beautiful surroundings and the fellowship of other runners, it will make you feel more alive.

For solo runners who have never run with others before, or who have done so sparingly, I urge you to make the effort to join a local running group. If you are new to the sport, consider registering for a running clinic in your area. You will form new friendships, enhance your health and enjoy the benefits of belonging to a wonderful and supportive community.

Last, but not least, a heartfelt thank you to three members of Run Georgina, in particular: Celine Tallian for her inspiration, encouragement and companionship; to Mike Bedley for his mentorship, feedback and wisdom; and to Mike Carroll for his kindness, humour and friendship; and to the other members of the group whom I’ve had to pleasure of befriending and running with over the past 12 months and who have encouraged me to keep reaching for the stars: Sue Noel, Valerie Garcia, Lorinda Mundy, Roger Mundy, Jason Girvan, Diana Scheddin, Alex Cebrynski, Erin Eastman, Dwayne Rogers, Andrew Rae, Robin Brunet, Gillian Hanlon, Robert Marinzel, Blair Aeiou-y, Sandi Porter-Thornton, Jeremy McLeod, Jeff Kloosterman, Lisa Groves Leask, Nathan Liss, Amy McIntyre, Sorin Petri, Barbara Wojdylo-Prud'homme, Tom Wilson, Ian Barron, Jim Willett, Esther Burger, MC Pace and Judy Breadner Colley.

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Operation Mincemeat: a masterstroke of intelligence and deception

Operation Mincemeat: How A Dead Man And A Bizarre Plan Fooled the Nazis And Assured An Allied Victory

By Ben Macintyre

Published in the U.S. by Broadway Paperbacks, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc.

In 1943, two British naval officers devised an improbable plan to fool Adolph Hitler and the Nazis, a plan so bold and audacious that it could never get approved, let alone pulled off.

Except the plan was approved by Winston Churchill and General Dwight Eisenhower and, against all odds, it succeeded beyond the wildest expectations of many. It's widely believed that the implementation of this ingenious plan succeeded in altering the course of World War Two.  

The true story of how the British and Americans deceived the Germans is told in Ben Macintyre's thrilling book, "Operation Mincemeat" (an earlier book about the events, The Man Who Never Was, was published in 1954 and it quickly became a best seller; a movie of the same name was released in 1956).

The plan was to create a fake identity of a purported British airman and arrange for the body to wash ashore in neutral Spain. The dead body would contain official documents confirming Allied plans to launch a surprise attack on Greece, when the actual attack would take place in Sicily. If the Germans believed that an attack on Greece was imminent, it would strengthen its resources in that area and leave southern Italy relatively exposed. At this point in the war, the Axis powers held an iron grip on Europe; the Allies needed a weakly-defended entry point in which to launch an assault, which would aid them in eventually liberating Europe.

For the plan to work, an extraordinary degree of luck and good fortune had to play into the Allied hands. In Spain, the Nazis had a vast network of spies and informants working in that country, and many of these agents needed to believe the ruse and pass false information up the chain of command. The opportunities for error were enormous. It's interesting to note the various forms of communication that were employed in fabricating this ingenious hoax - including letters, memos, diaries, newspapers, and good old-fashioned rumour and gossip.

Macintyre describes the lives, backgrounds and motivations of all participants with a superb sense of pacing and detail. At times, Operation Mincemeat reads like a thriller with sudden plot twists and mounting suspense. No detail is overlooked, from the intricate planning and choosing of a body to creating a fake identity and transporting the body to the coast of Spain. It's no accident that Ian Fleming (creator of the James Bond series) and Alan Hillgarth (an adventure novelist)  were among the officers who took part in the ploy.

Here, Macintyre sums up how a single, simple idea took shape and wound up changing the course of history:

"Amateur, unpublished novelists, the framers of Operation Mincemeat, dreamed up the most unlikely concatenation of events, rendered them believable, and sent them off to war, changing reality throughout lateral thinking and proving that it is possible to win a battle fought in the mind, from behind a desk, and from beyond the grave."

"OperationMincemeat" is an incredible story about an incredible chapter in the history of World War Two, and I give it two thumbs up. 

Fitzgerald's tragic tale of wasted days and wasted nights

The Beautiful and Damned

By F. Scott Fitzgerald

First Vintage Classics Edition, August 2010 (Originally published in hardcover in the U.S. by Charles Scribner's Sons in 1922)

The protagonist of F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Beautiful and Damned" is Anthony Patch, an intelligent, Harvard-educated young man with excellent prospects and a bright future. The year is 1913, and America is on the cusp of a brand new era that includes automobiles, moving pictures and exciting new industries. But Anthony has a problem: a stupendous lack of ambition and a refusal to engage in any form of purposeful work.

"The Beautiful and Damned" tells the tragic story of Anthony Patch and his attractive, socialite wife, Gloria, over an eight-year period beginning when Anthony returns from Europe to be near his ailing grandfather, Adam Patch. Adam is a respected industrialist worth millions who disapproves of Anthony's life choices and urges his grandson to stop dilly-dallying around and establish a career.

Anthony does make half-hearted attempts to find employment and to join the workforce, but he is easily bored and soon quits any so-called 'real' jobs. If young Anthony holds any aspirations for a career, it's to become a journalist/writer, but the actual work and effort required in becoming a writer is far beyond his grasp and desires.

During the span of the novel, Anthony and Gloria manage to live a life of complete debauchery, drinking and partying to excess almost daily, with a cheerful disdain for those who have to work for a living. The one consistent theme in the couples' life is their capacity for living on a small inheritance left by Anthony's mother, an inheritance that is gradually being squandered.

As their financial circumstances worsen, they are desperate for Anthony's grandfather to die, whereupon Anthony will inherit millions. But when the grandfather finally does die, the couple are mortified to discover that Anthony has been excluded from the will (except for a meager inheritance), and they suddenly find themselves weighing three unpleasant options - contesting the will in court, finding employment, or going broke.

Both Anthony and Gloria are doomed figures in "The Beautiful and Damned." Especially Gloria who grew up believing that her charm and beauty would ensure a rich and happy life. The gradual deterioration of Gloria's beauty coincides with the strains in her marriage and the couples' growing financial misfortunes. Fitzgerald portrays Gloria as a woman trapped by her beauty, by her husband, and by her grand illusions of herself. 

A rare moment of true happiness and freedom occurs when she flees after the sexual advances of a stranger at a party at her home. Here is Gloria, having escaped the party, sitting on a railway plank in the rain:

"The oppression was lifted now - the tree-tops below her were rocking the young starlight to a haunted doze. She stretched out her arms with a gesture of freedom. This was what she had wanted, to stand alone where it was high and cool...She had thought she would never feel so young again, but this was her night, her world. Triumphantly she laughed as she left the plank, and reaching the wooden platform flung herself down happily beside an iron roof-post." 

As readers, we disapprove of the lives of Anthony and Gloria and their endless pursuit of money, and the shallowness of their characters, but Fitzgerald more than makes up for his characters' deficiencies with prose that glitters like jewellery, and his ability to portray New York high society in the early 20th century with such flair.

The ending of "The Beautiful and Damned" wasn't what I was expecting, which speaks to Fitzgerald's narrative skills in keeping readers guessing and his ability to offer delightful surprises - right up until the end.

A Song for Steve

My dear cousin and best friend, Steve, passed away on a recent October morning, one month shy of his fifty-seventh birthday. I visited Steve a few times during the final months of his battle with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), a progressive and fatal motor neuron disease that has taken the lives of five of my family members.

As the inevitable end drew near for Steve, I found myself reflecting on the years that we spent together growing up in Scarborough, Ontario, and the unforgettable adventures of our youth. We played little league baseball and road hockey together. We were in the same Boy Scout troop and spent hours playing in the ravine across the street from where he lived.

In our mid-teens, we both bought our first cars (Steve's was a candy apple red Chevy Nova, mine a sleek Pontiac Beaumont), which was like a rite of passage and a ticket to freedom. To help pay for gas and insurance, we both worked at a local gas station, and the stunts we pulled during that period gave new meaning to the phrase 'misspent youth.'

By the time we hit our late teens, we hung out and did some travelling together (Florida, Virginia Beach), but we also started to develop different interests. Steve attended Centennial College and was eager to pursue a career in his chosen field, while I spent my early twenties writing poetry and travelling through Europe.

One thing that united us - from childhood until middle age - was music. During our teens, we spent endless hours listening to and discussing our favourite bands: Queen, Supertramp, Bruce Springsteen, Alice Cooper, Led Zeppelin, Genesis, Chicago, Peter Frampton, The Alan Parsons Project, and many more. The 1970s and early 1980s were a golden age for experimental rock and pop music and it gave rise to dozens of classic songs and albums. Steve always got a thrill out of discovering new artists and he loved sharing these treasures with his friends.

Steve had a special ear for lyrics and was drawn to songs that told stories. He introduced me to such classics as Harry Chapin's "Taxi," Billy Joel's "Scenes From An Italian Restaurant" and Bread's "Everything I Own." He once asked me to listen to the words of an obscure song by Styx called "This Old Man," which spoke about the dignity of work and how you shouldn't be afraid to express feelings of love for others. Indeed, this was a pretty mature theme for a 20 year old kid to understand.

Another time, Steve urged me to buy an album by an artist with the unlikely name of Meatloaf. So, we rushed over to the record store and I bought Meatloaf's "Bat Out Of Hell" album. We cranked the volume on his stereo and played it over and over until the grooves wore out. A few months later, Steve and I got a chance to see Meatloaf perform at Massey Hall in Toronto; it was one of the most memorable concerts of my life.

It is those memories of enjoying music together that has been such a comfort to me, in the months leading up to - and after - Steve's passing. I'll put on a song that reminds me of a moment from our past, be it the Scout trip where Steve tossed an unopened can of pork 'n beans onto a roaring bonfire, Steve driving us in his mother's car to Virginia Beach or Steve briefly piloting a Cessna as we flew over the cornfields of Markham. My wife asks why I keep playing songs that remind me of Steve and that make me so sad. Yes, these songs evoke feelings of sadness but they are also a way of connecting to the past and keeping it alive.

We often hear that a picture is worth a thousand words, but music can be just as powerful in connecting the past with the present. Songs like "Candy's Room" by Bruce Springsteen, "Holdin' On To Yesterday" by Ambrosia and "Do You Feel Like We Do" by Peter Frampton remind me of where Steve and I were at a given time. Listening to these musical gems, four decades later, is a way of holding onto Steve and reliving our youth.

One time, Steve and I were driving to Orillia, and the Bee Gees' "Tragedy" came on the radio. Steve thought the song sounded cheesy, but that didn't stop him from belting out the lyrics, "When the feeling's gone and you can't go on / It's tragedy..." in a high-pitched falsetto as he worked an invisible mic. Every time I hear that song, I laugh and think of Steve's exaggerated rendition.

At that time - we were both 20 - we didn't have a care in the world. We were just two guys cruising in my car and enjoying a moment that would become part of our shared experiences. All those years ago, Steve could not have imagined the special place those songs and moments would one day hold in the heart of a cousin whose grief today is beyond words. I'm sure there is a song in there somewhere, and when I hear it, I'll be reminded of the great man and friend that Steve was, and I'll be the first to tell others, That's a song for Steve.