A mistake that 'kind of makes your heart race'

Last week I came | this close | to rear-ending a car in front of me. I had just turned left at the intersection of Wilson Road and Bloor Street and was accelerating when I noticed the car that had gone left at the intersection before me was NOT MOVING. Unfortunately I was moving, rather quickly I might add!

My grip on the steering wheel tightened, I braced myself and tramped on the brake. I don't think I've ever hit a brake pedal that hard in my life. Despite how quickly everything was happening I could see the car in front of me getting closer and closer in S-L-O-W M-O-T-I-O-N. The question of the moment was how hard was I going to hit the guy? The second question, would my airbag deploy?

Then the car stopped. No bang, no crunch, no sounds at all. I'd missed him by less than an inch (about six centimetres for my Canadian friends). He turned into a driveway, I took a breath again, and went along my way down Bloor Street to work. About 15 seconds later the adrenalin rush hit me. I hate that feeling.

Missed it by this much! Actually I came a lot closer than this to
hitting a car the other day but I didn't feel comfortable pulling my car
up behind my wife's car for this demonstration,

Fast-forward to the end of the day, I've returned home and there on the kitchen table is a letter from my insurance company. I normally get a reminder at this time of year telling me how my rates are going to rise again despite the fact I'm still driving a 12-year-old car and haven't had a ticket or an accident (touch wood). Basically it's letting me know that I'm going to get SCREWED AGAIN, without so much as a I love you or even a peck on the cheek.

But this letter was different from previous letters because this letter had a paragraph in it highlighted in bold type. It read:

With the coverage as it is now this vehicle can not (sic) be driven at anytime.

I read the letter again and the adrenalin rush I'd experienced in the morning returned. The letter was telling me I had comprehensive insurance ONLY on my car. That allows you to safely keep your car parked in your driveway. But I've been driving all year and nearly had a wreck eight hours earlier. Could you imagine the shit I'd been in if the traffic gods had not smiled on me causing me to miss the car that morning? Driving without insurance is a crime and for a guy with a perfect driving record that's a big deal! I was beyond frustrated but could do nothing about it because the insurance company was closed. So I stewed all night, barely slept and woke up feeling lousy.

When I finally got in touch with Keith (I won't mention his last name) and told him my problem, he laughed nervously and told me he'd remembered speaking to me last year at this time. Since we'd spoken for almost an hour about how I could reduce my insurance costs I was relieved he'd remembered me. But I didn't recall telling him to "pull the insurance off my car so I could park it in my driveway for a year." Granted that's one way to reduce your insurance bill but not if you have to drive it.

I could hear him plucking away at his computer while he pulled up my file.

"No, you've got liability, you're safe to drive," he said.

Then there was a pause. "Wait a minute, there's a note on another file, not yours."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Your heart must have been racing when you read that letter, didn't it?" he chuckled.

"You think?!" I said, not impressed.

"I really should read those letters before I sign them and mail them off," Keith said.

"In my business if you make mistakes like that you get sued," I told him.

Keith's tone changed but not as much as it would have if I'd said what I really wanted to: "You stupid fucking asshole, can't you get anything right! You sound like you're barely old enough to have a licence let alone have a job!"

Keith then broke into his apology. He must practise it a lot because it sounded sincere. I told him I didn't want his apology (I did) but I wanted to make sure I had insurance to drive.
He confirmed that I did. Then he wished me a Merry Christmas.

I've got to get a new insurance company.

I drank the crazy Christmas Kool-Aid

It's official, my house is aglow. As I mentioned in my last post, the kids wore me down so I climbed to the rooftop to light up Christmas.

There's just no denying your kids forever. Remember, they're younger than you and have more time to hound you until they get their way.

Simple, yet effective don't you think?

Once I'd strung the outdoor lights along the roof and anchored a spotlight in the front yard I stood back and had to admit it did look better than darkness. It's no Chevy Chase light display but it's a start.


The reaction from the kids was worth it too. They stood there, oohed and aahed. That's far better than  hearing them whine and complain! 

Around the neighbourhood my meager light display dims in comparison to some of the others. There are  homeowners who have their whole front yards filled with Christmas scenes. One display even has Christmas music playing while the reindeer and snowman move in time to the beat of songs like Jingle Bells. Further up on the roof the homeowner has strung lights leading to a star. It must have taken the guy a week to put up all those holiday decorations.

It's impressive the effort some of these crazy people will go to in order to spread a little Christmas cheer! But I have to admit, my kids stop dead in their tracks and admire these displays.

Now that I think about it, maybe these homeowners aren't the crazy ones, maybe it's me? It doesn't matter anymore. I drank the crazy Kool-Aid and have joined in the celebration. Bah, humbug no more.

Do you light up your house for the holidays?

Lighting up the holidays -- finally

I wrote in this space a year ago about my charmed life and how I didn't have to put up my own outdoor Christmas lights to enjoy the holiday season (http://imiancmillan.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-dont-need-my-own-christmas-lights-to.html). I stand by that statement . . . sort of.

Children are like water. The more they pour down on you about something the further you erode. Does that make sense? In my head it does so I hope it does in your head too.

My kids love Christmas lights. They've told me daily how we need to put up some at our house. It doesn't help I have an old strand of lights in the garage I haven't put up in years due to the fact a couple of bulbs burned out.

"Why don't you just get a new bulb and put them up Dad?"

"If you put them up before why can't you put them up now?"

What they really want to say is "Stop being such a cheap prick Dad, get in the spirit and put up some damn Christmas lights."

The other night my son Tavish was out with his Mom when they spotted a house decorated with a beautiful display of lights. Apparently Tav sat there staring at the lights in awe.

"We need to get some lights but Dad won't put them up," he told his Mom who later relayed the story on to me. Then he sighed.

Now I don't know whether Heather added the 'sigh' part just to wear me down but if she did all I have to say is "Well played." I'll go out this weekend and buy some Christmas lights.

The things I do for my kids.

You can say chicken, just don't say turkey

The good doctor measured Hannah Foster's head to gauge the size of her brain.
There were zombies inside waiting and apparently they were hungry. Watching the fun was Rebekah McMillan.  

We were warned to watch our steps for scattered body parts, to be prepared for things that go bump in the night, to be aware off unseen hands grabbing us and to not be concerned about hallways that get narrower and narrower.

We were also told that if things got too scary that it was okay to scream 'chicken'. A monster could escort us to the exit. But don't say 'turkey'. Apparently there were creatures inside that really enjoyed turkey.

I told myself I wouldn't say turkey. There was no way I could guarantee I wouldn't say chicken though.

Bowmanville's Fright Night at the Firehouse Youth Centre packed them in again Saturday night. I brought my daughter Rebekah and her friend Hannah Foster again for some thrills. We weren't disappointed.

From the moment we got to the front door we were entertained by two mad doctors who took an unnatural interest in our skulls. There were zombies inside we were told and they were hungry. Great.

Then Beetlejuice came around the corner to warn us about the sandworms. Great, something else to watch out for!

Who was going to scream first we were asked. It was hard to tell due to the fact all three of us screamed in terror for 15 minutes straight.

Beetlejuice kept an eye on the crowd to make sure we were okay.

Beetlejuice came out to greet and frighten a few of the visitors
to the Firehouse Youth Centre's Fright Night.

We went from room to room getting frightened by evil clowns, hungry zombies, mischievous goblins and infamous villains. Then we came to the end of a hallway and at the end of it was Freddy Krueger. Did I mention Freddy Krueger has always been able to frighten the 'bejesus' out of me? Well it didn't take us long to get out of that hallway but it didn't matter, there were more hallways to get through.

When we entered Fright Night at the Firehouse Youth Centre this was
the spooky bar we encountered. They weren't serving anything we wanted to consume!

Let me measure your cranium ladies.

I didn't think it was possible to get frightened and shocked more than I did at last year's Fright Night event. I was wrong. The volunteers who helped put this event together should be given credit, they did an awesome job. Best of all all proceeds went to the United Way. As far as I'm concerned that's a win-win for everyone.

I've always loved Halloween and all the spooky things it does for me. Fright Night has given me one more reason to love it.

Great ghost story, bad parenting

I love a good ghost story. There's something about the spooky unknown that intrigues me which is why Halloween is one of my favourite times of the year.

Oh yah, I also like to scare people. It gives me a sick thrill. To see the frightened reaction of someone responding to something shocking or spooky that is a result of something I've done makes me laugh. I need help, I know. But at least admitting it is half the battle to recovery, right?!?

One family memory that still makes me chuckle out loud to this day was when my best friend Oz and I sneaked up to the back door of my house under cover of darkness. We were 11 or 12 at the time and had been outside goofing around. Inside around the kitchen table my parents and Oz's mom were having a few beverages and shooting the breeze. They couldn't see us but we could see them so on three we burst in through the door and into the kitchen making roaring sounds.

The scream that erupted from my father was unlike anything I've ever heard before or since. He dropped his drink and ran down the hall to get away. The ladies had the dignity to sit there and scream but they didn't run away like my fearless father! Nobody sitting around that kitchen table was impressed with us but we were too busy laughing to notice just how annoyed our parents were. Gawd that was funny.

The other day a colleague at work posted a YouTube video clip about spotting the ghost in a European car commercial that never made it to air because of what happens in it. I'd seen it a few years ago but my mind was in a foggy place when I hit play. I was trying to remember what happens in the commercial and where the ghost appears and ... well just watch the clip above in case you haven't seen it.

DO NOT READ PAST THIS LINE IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED THE VIDEO

As much as I appreciate giving a good scare I am also one to appreciate it when the tables are turned and I am the one screaming in fear. I jumped then laughed when I'd finished viewing the video.

Once at home I saw my daughter Rebekah on the laptop.

"Hey, want to see something spooky?" I asked her.

We went to the video clip and I watched as my daughter screamed in shock at the ending.

"Daddy, how could you do this to me," she yelled.

My son Tavish was in the living room and came out to see what all the commotion was about.

"Want to see something spooky?" I asked him.

"You've got to see this Tav, it's so cool," Rebekah chimed in.

We set Tav up with the headphones and the computer and told him to watch it carefully or else he would miss the ghost. Hitting play I turned away so he couldn't see me laughing. Little did I know while my back was turned that my four-year-old daughter Bronwyn had sneaked in beside her brother.

I heard a shriek from Tavish and a scream of terror from Bronwyn followed by tears. I'd inadvertently given my daughter the worst scare of her short life. My father of the year award was immediately revoked.

Last night I spent the a number of quality sleeping hours in Bronwyn's room making sure she wasn't frightened and tonight I'm getting her a brighter night light. 

I may enjoy a good fright at this time of the year but not everyone in the family shares my enthusiasm for Halloween.

Never let self doubt hold you back from achieving your dreams

Walter G. Pitman, past president of Ryerson University, met with Heather McMillan
prior to the start of the Leaders in Learning ceremony held on Oct. 13. Heather received the
Walter G. Pitman Award for academic excellence in continuing education
and outstanding contributions to the Ryerson University community.

Three years ago my wife Heather began to fulfill her dream of going back to university. She applied and was accepted at Ryerson University to study public administration on a part-time basis.

I realize for most of us a bucket list item wouldn't be to go BACK to school but to accomplish something a little more exciting. But for Heather going back to the classroom was what did it for her. Give her a textbook and an assignment and she's in her happy place!

After the first course her professor approached her to apply for a scholarship. Heather came back home and was over the moon. I was proud of her and also encouraged her to fill out the scholarship application. Days turned into weeks and every time I asked her if she'd finished filling out the scholarship application Heather always had an excuse. I could tell I was not endearing myself to her with my constant questions (it's the reporter in me) so I shut up. The deadline came and went and she never filled it out.

Why is it so easy to make decisions for other people but difficult to make them for ourselves? I knew from the day I met Heather that she was destined to do great things with her life and she has proven me right every step of the way. The biggest obstacle she has consistently run into is her own self doubt. She's afraid of failure. We've all fallen short of expectations at some points in our lives but it's what we learn from our failures that helps us become successful later.

The next year I brought the subject up again.

"I could but my grade point average needs to be higher," was the excuse I got.

My wife is a lot of things but a good liar she is not. I saw the self doubt in her eyes, I read it in her body language. She wasn't comfortable applying so again I didn't push her.

Heather finished her third course this year and again she was encouraged by her professor to apply for a scholarship. I was surprised and happy when she actually filled it out and submitted it. If you fulfill every requirement of the scholarship there's a good chance your application will get a second look by the university.

Well not only did Heather's scholarship application get a second look but she got notice a few weeks ago that she would be this year's recipient of the Walter G. Pitman Award. Next semester's course wouldn't cost her a dime!

"I'm not an academic," Heather told me.

"You're a university student who has just been awarded a scholarship. What else would you call it?" I'd asked.

When you're right, you're right. Heather didn't mention it again.

We travelled into Toronto together on Thursday night to attend the Leaders in Learning 2011 ceremony held at Ryerson. She was nervous and I could see the self doubt creeping back into her mind. Then we met Walter Pitman, the former president of Ryerson University from 1975 to 1980. He was thrilled to meet Heather as she was him. They spoke at length about continuing education and its importance.

I could see while they spoke Heather become more comfortable. Later when the two met on stage for the awards ceremony Heather was even more at ease. She was surrounded by her peers, all of them academics.

Never let self doubt get in the way of achieving your dreams. It's an ugly human condition many of us suffer from and it holds us back.

I am hopeful Heather is now as confident in her abilities as I have always been. She may not be comfortable calling herself an academic but her actions and her grades tell a different story.

She did good. I'm proud of her.

Chiefs country no more

Last Tuesday I walked into the gymnasium of Oshawa Central Collegiate Institute where I play basketball with a great group of friends. We've been playing now for years but something about the gym was different on this night.

The floor was shining like a top for one thing. The custodians had buffed it to the point where you could almost see your reflection in it. But there was something else different -- the space on the wall above the bleachers was bare where once it boasted 'CHIEFS COUNTRY'. That's because Central's sports teams have always been called the Chiefs. At centre court there was also a school crest where once a Chiefs logo was painted.

Apparently Central is no longer Chiefs Country as the school has erased the Chiefs moniker. When I asked one of my colleagues, who's a teacher at the school, what the new name was for the school's sports teams he didn't know.

I realize in this era of political correctness some people might take offense to the term Chiefs. Others though see Chiefs as a powerful name, one of pride, leadership and courage.

Indeed, you don't have to look very far, even in Durham Region, to find aboriginal logos and names on sports jerseys. The Brooklin Redmen are one of the areas more popular lacrosse teams.

In the NFL there are the Washington Redskins, in Major League Baseball there are the Cleveland Indians and the Atlanta Braves and the NHL has the Chicago Blackhawks who sport the best uniforms in hockey as far as I'm concerned (I can admit this despite being a life-long Leaf fan!).

Many of the colleges in Ontario are named after aboriginal tribes such as Algonquin, Seneca and Mohawk. These names were chosen for their strength and a tribute to the founding people of this province. It would be a shame if they were ever changed due to political correctness.
By no means does any team or school adopt a native name or logo to insult aboriginal culture. I always liked the 'Chiefs Country' warning painted on the gymnasium wall at Central. It told opposing teams they better watch out because Central was going to put a beating on them. Over the years many of the school's teams have won LOSSA and OFFSA championships.

Did the school go too far erasing the name? Or was it time to head in a different direction? I'm a traditionalist and didn't think Chiefs was insulting to anyone native or otherwise. I'll be interested to see what Central sports teams are called  in the future.

Getting squeezed for the juice

Earlier this summer the frozen juices at my local grocery store began shrinking. It was a subtle change made more evident in transition before customers bought out all the old stock. The old tins of juice came in at 355 ml, the new ones at 295 ml.

At the time the juices were reduced in price, marked down to 93 cents a tin so I figured the size and the price were relative. However, soon after Labour Day came and went the prices for frozen juice shot up to $1.17. Bigger price, smaller tin.

The Minute Maid orange juice website made no mention of the shrinking size of its frozen juices. Check it out for yourself at http://www.minutemaid.com/. I clicked the 'contact us' button and it directed me to the Coca-Cola website, which owns Minute Maid. I typed in my 'shrinking frozen juice' concern into the questions field and it directed me back to the Minute Maid site. Hmm.

Upon further investigation I stumbled upon a blog titled, Fagstein at http://blog.fagstein.com/2011/08/12/minute-maid-frozen-juice-ripoff-2/. It told me all that Minute Maid and Coca-Cola would not.

A company statement said this: "With the increase in commodities, rather than pass the total cost on to the consumer, the decision was made to adjust the package size to offset some of the increase the consumer would have had to pay if this adjustment wasn’t made."

I also went on to the McCain website to see if any mention had been made about its juice size. On this site there was a 'contact us' button that didn't send me to another website then back again. I sent my concern and McCain replied. Here was the response:

Thank you for taking the time to provide your feedback; it is always valuable to hear consumers’ insight and concerns.
Old South is responding to increased ingredient costs and is passing along these increased costs by reducing the volume of frozen concentrate in the package. In order to keep the price the same we had to slightly reduce the volume of the frozen concentrate which means that a package now yields 0.19 litres less prepared product.
We are still offering consumers products which are an excellent source of Vitamin C and have no artificial colours or flavours. In addition, all Old South Juices and 100% Juice Blends contain 2 fruit servings per 250 mL.
Old South is our way of offering consumers a line-up of healthy, great tasting juices and punches at a competitive price.

To keep the price the same? To that I say WTF. But at least they had the courtesy to accept the question and respond.

 As consumers we're paying more for frozen juice and getting less to drink. This isn't offsetting an increase, it is an increase and the companies are hoping we don't notice, or don't care. As Fagstein so rightly states, it's a frozen juice ripoff.

This juice issue got me to thinking about other grocery store products that have shrunk in size but not price the past little while. Remember when laundry detergent came in large boxes? These days it comes in what I refer to as mini-me boxes, they're a third the size of the old ones. The various brands boast the detergent is more "concentrated" yet the amount per load remains the same.

Again I say WTF.

I get that companies are always looking for ways to increase their profits. That's businesses and even though it sucks for consumers it's a necessary evil. I'd rather see the prices raised than the size of the product reduced. Just be honest and hike the price, don't shrink it or feed the consumer a 'concentrated' line of bull, put it on sale for a month or two and then put the price back up to where it used to be. That's deceitful, it's wrong.

I'm not buying as much juice anymore, the kids can drink more water -- from the tap. None of that bottled water nonsense. But that's a consumer rant for another day.

Don't cheapen the blue and white

There will be more than one logo gracing the practice jerseys of the Toronto Maple Leafs this fall. For now the maple leaf will be the dominant logo but the upper right-hand corner will sport a Purolator logo.

When I read this in the Toronto Star today I couldn't believe it. I didn't think Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment (MLSE), the owners of the Leafs and the Raptors, could make any more money than they do until I read this article. Actually there is one way both teams could make extra money -- they could actually make it to the post-season, something neither team has done in a very long time.

There was a time when sponsorship played little, if any role in hockey. Look back at some highlight reels of the Leafs in the 1970s and you'll see the boards surrounding the ice covered in nothing but white with the odd black mark here and there from the puck. Those were different days back then as even helmets weren't mandatory.

By comparison today everything is sponsored, the boards are covered with logos, all through the Air Canada Centre signs flash the names of companies and  telecasts broadcasting the games are filled with ads of one kind or another. The only thing not flashing a company logo is the players themselves.

But that will change this season in Toronto.

I understand the financial difficulties smaller market teams across the NHL are going through. Reports this week indicated the New Jersey Devils were prepared to declare bankruptcy. There are rumblings in Long Island about the team moving if it can't get a new arena built and Phoenix hasn't made money since it left Winnipeg for the desert in the late 90s. Will fancy logos on their practice uniforms tip the scales and make those teams profitable? I doubt it.

MLSE is sporting a sponsorship logo this season because it can charge top dollar and make a whack of cash from it. The company isn't stupid and that's why it's one of the league's wealthiest franchises. But to hockey purists, and there are a lot of us out there, putting one logo over top of the maple leaf, no matter how small, is sacrilege. Before long one logo will turn to two, will turn to three and before long you won't even recognize the jersey. And trust me, if MLSE can make a bundle of cash on practice jerseys can you imagine what they would make on their game jerseys? Cha-ching!

It's a slippery slope and one I believe will lead eventually to logos on game jerseys.

In Europe there are hockey teams that have their practice and game jerseys plastered with logos. Keep in mind over there football (soccer) and rugby jerseys have been this way forever. In North America there's a tradition in hockey and part of that tradition is one jersey, one logo.

Put sponsorship whereever you want but leave the maple leaf alone. Don't cheapen the blue and white.

Ribfest secrets, it's all in the sauce

Hmmm ribs. Can't wait.

One of my fondest 'food' memories of childhood is of my Grandma McAskill's spareribs in sauce. I don't know where she got her sauce recipe but I do know when I walked into her home at 123 McLaughlin Blvd. and smelled her ribs cooking I was in heaven. Her ribs were wonderful.

Her special sauce recipe was handed down to her daughter, my mother Barbara McMillan. Guess who got his hands on that recipe? Yep, yours truly. Over the years I recreated Grandma's recipe and although it always tasted wonderful, it's just never the same without Grandma and Grandpa there to share it with. But I digress.

I have become somewhat of an expert on ribs over the years. As a member of the media I have been asked to judge ribs at a variety of Ribfests across the Greater Toronto Area. I have participated in Etobicoke, Scarborough and for the past seven years in Oshawa at all the Rotary Ribfests. Those ribbers put on quite the feast. Words cannot do justice to the different recipe of ribs they've served me over the years. Mouth watering, delicious, each and every one of them.

The origins of my fascination with ribs though has to go back to Grandma and her famous ribs and sauce. If you ever talk to a ribber at one of the Rotary Ribfests and ask them for their secret it always boils down to their sauce. Plus if they ever told me anything they'd have to kill me. So the fact that I'm still alive means not one of them has ever given me a hint of what makes their ribs so damn good. Those ribbers, they're a secretive bunch!

Last summer I decided to have a ribfest of my own and Grandma's sauce was my secret ingredient. I'd tell you how I prepared my ribs but in true ribber fashion my sauce, like the millions of other rib sauce recipes out there, will remain a secret. Needless to say the ribs were amazing and this Saturday I'm hosting my second annual Ribfest. It will be amazing.

Ironically the following day I am judging Oshawa's Rotary Ribfest again for my seventh year in a row. It will be a carnivor's dream weekend!

Grandma left me with many fond memories but she only left me with one recipe. And it's a keeper.

Start living, stop shopping

I've seen these shoes somewhere before.

I read a lot of blogs but the ones I keep coming back to time and again are those penned by women. There are far more women bloggers out there than men and I'm intrigued by what many of them write about because it's so different than what I put down on paper.

These talented female scribes have a lot to write about but one element unites many of the blogs I've read -- shopping. Women love to shop and there are whole blogs dedicated to just that topic. Shopping, simply put,  gives these women pleasure.

That got me to thinking, when I met my wife Heather she brought more than 200 pairs of shoes to our relationship. Shoe shopping was her drug and she got her fix practically every day. She'd spy a pair of perfect pumps in the store window and be in awe. Bliss.

Edenland is a blog I read often and recently Eden Riley wrote about a pair of cowboy boots she purchased without the knowledge of  her husband. She blamed the purchase on her sisters and he bought it, or actually she bought it!

"They have special powers, make me feel incredibly tough and kickarse," she wrote in her blog (http://www.edenriley.com/2011/08/imma-die-with-my-boots-on.html).

Why Eden felt guilty about buying some kickarse boots surprised me because from what I've read in her blog she doesn't shop a lot. There's a lot more going on in her life than trips to the mall. Read a bit of her stuff and you'll see.

These days Heather doesn't buy shoes very often. A house, three kids, a dog and cat tempers the shoe shopping urge. Well maybe it doesn't temper the urge but it does result in fewer shoe purchases. The person we both worry about is our 13-year-old daughter Rebekah. She loves to shop and would do so every day if she could.

Heather said to her the other day, "Rebekah, would you die if you couldn't have it?" in reference to another article of clothing she couldn't live without.

"What do you mean Mom, of course I wouldn't die," my teenage daughter replied.

"Well then, it's a want not a need," Heather replied.

Sounds simple enough. But try convincing a shopaholic teenager of that simple fact. She rolled her eyes and gave both of us the 'you don't know anything' look.

We all enjoy looking good and even I can admit to the 'rush' when making a purchase of something I really want. Our task now is trying to teach our daughter that there's more to do in life than shop. There are many other things to do that will fulfill you. The mantra, 'shop til you drop' does not exist in this house.

Rebekah does not go without much in this life. What we hope to instill upon her is that in order to feel good about yourself you don't need a new outfit every weekend, there will always be perfect pumps there when you want them. She's a smart girl, she'll figure it out.

Elizabeth Jayne Liu writes Flourish in Progress (http://www.flourishinprogress.com/), a blog chronicling her life for one year outside the mall. She decided on her 30th birthday to start a project to stop all her needless spending and to see what happened to all those hours. Her writing makes me laugh because she's comical and has a unique perspective on the world.

I want my daughter to read this blog to prove to her it can be done. I'm not saying she has to stay away from the mall for a year, that would just be a sick thing to do to a teenager. But there is more in life than shopping. My mantra for my daughter is 'Start living, stop shopping.'

I can only imagine the look I'll get when I tell her that!

Softball memories for them and me

You can't see it very well in this picture but every player on my Woodview softball team
signed this game ball and presented it to me after our final game of the season.  

Last Sunday the Woodview Mite softball team placed fourth in the NASC playoff championships. Despite losing the bronze medal game to Kedron there were a lot of smiling faces on the Woodview bench. The biggest smile though was mine.

This was a stressful year for me. As mentioned in a previous blog (http://imiancmillan.blogspot.com/2011/05/player-to-coach-transition-not-easy.html), for the first time I stepped up to the plate and put on the coach's hat. I'd helped out the coaches in previous years so when Woodview needed a coach this season I volunteered for the job.

I didn't go into the season with a master plan to conquer the softball world, I just wanted to show the kids some fun and teach them a bit about the game. Mites are ages 8 and 9 so you get some kids who've played before and some who have limited or no experience. The 2011 Woodview Mites had quite a few first-year players.

You could say a team comprised of that many players with limited or no experience would be a challenge. But think of it from the players' point of view, they were dealing with a man with no experience as a coach so we were even!

So how did our season turn out? Five wins and we missed the finals in the June tournament. Despite the limited checks in the win department my players came to the ball park each Tuesday and Thursday ready to have fun. I'll never forget one game after we'd beaten Brookside at Connaught Park both teams ran the bases together after shaking hands. Woodview was thrilled with the win but more importantly they were being kids and just having fun.

One would expect my team wouldn't have had a chance of making it very far in the playoffs given our limited success during the regular season. The Monday practises paid off and we made it to a medal game. Yah, we lost but given our record everyone was thrilled to be playing on the final day of the season.

After the game the players presented me with a ball they'd all signed. It was unexpected but touching. The praise from the kids and some of the parents also came as a surprise. One girl told me I was the best coach she'd ever had. It's her first year so I've been the only coach she's ever had! To hear it though was sweet and made the hard work worth it.

I know the kids learned a lot this year because I saw first-hand how much they improved. As much as they learned this summer though I think they taught me more about the game than I ever could have taught them.

It was a summer I'll never forget.

It's time people starting looking up

Remember photo radar? It was used in the 1990s as a method to get motorists to slow down on highways and byways throughout Ontario. You'd be speeding along and 'flash' your car's licence plate would be caught on film and your speed recorded. A few weeks later you'd get the ticket.

A lot of people hated photo radar because they didn't like getting busted by a camera. Rather they wanted more cops on the road to issue the tickets. Like it or not though it did slow people down and radio stations across the GTA would always broadcast warnings where these photo radar vans were parked.

Photo radar was eliminated almost as soon as it started. A new government was elected and out went the program.

Fast-forward to 2011 and I believe a similar program could be adopted with more success by any one of the four parties vying for election this fall. But rather than have cameras take pictures of speeding cars they'd be set up to take pictures of texting drivers.

Here's the beauty of my plan though. Tickets would not be issued via snail mail. Instead they'd be sent by email, preferably to the offenders hand-held device. GOTCHA!

I bring this up because twice I've been rear-ended in my car by somebody texting on their cellphones. Last Friday it happened again while I was driving along Steeles Avenue with my family after visiting Black Creek Pioneer Village. We were sitting at a red light and 'bump' the guy driving his Mercedes Benz behind us gave my Chevy Cavalier a little love tap. No damage was done but both of us were somewhat surprised by the accident.

It may be law now that using a hand-held device, be it a cellphone, Blackberry etc, is forbidden while behind the wheel of a car but it doesn't take long to realize a lot of drivers still use them. Everybody these days is looking down at these damn devices whether they're in a car or walking on the sidewalk. It's time we all pay attention to what we're doing and look up.

At the rate people continue to text while behind the wheel it's impossible for the police to enforce this law effectively. Meanwhile the traffic accidents mount. Law or no law the message hasn't gotten through to most of us.

Getting into a traffic accident with someone who is texting sucks. Getting killed by someone who is texting would be such a waste. No message is worth that price.

Cheerios at the beach

Rebekah and her new beach towel. Makes you think of breakfast, don't you think?

I got a call the other day at work. It was my daughter Rebekah.

"Dad it came, I can't believe it," she said.

"What came?"

"It's beautiful Dad, you should see it and it's got cereal all over it."

At this point I'm thinking, "What have you spilled now? Gawd, why didn't I send you to summer camp?"

"My towel Dad, the towel I ordered from Cheerios," Rebekah said.

Ah, the towel that was going to save me or kill me while I was off work a few weeks ago. I'd almost forgot about the minute-by-minute updates Rebekah was giving me in her excitement when she ordered it for free. Did you hear that, she ordered it for free?!?

Why is it the women in my life always describe purchases by the amount of money they didn't have to spend to acquire them?

"Look at this Dad, it was $19.99 so I saved $10," is a common phrase Rebekah uses with me. Her Mom, my wife often does the same. They probably do this because they know I'm a cheap bastard. I don't want for much, I don't need much and as a result I don't buy much. I'm a capitalist's worst nightmare!

So when I saw how nice this Cheerios towel was I had to give Rebekah credit for filling out the form and getting it ordered. She was warned delivery could take six to eight weeks but it came in under two weeks giving Rebekah lots of time to use it this summer. Best of all, it came with a coupon, $1 off a box of Cheerios. Rebekah can have the towel, give me, the cheap bastard, the coupon!

Cheerios, the cereal never tasted so good.

A beautiful beach towel could save me or kill me...

A beautiful beach towel, that's the focus of my daughter's summer.

She's 13-years-old and doesn't do summer camp. Actually she doesn't do much of anything but when she's doing nothing she has lots of time for stuff like filling out the Internet form for a free Cheerios beach towel. And guess what? It will arrive in six to eight weeks!

I don't know whether to be sad or happy for my daughter. But then I remember when I was her age and too cool to do anything but be bored. And let me tell you, I did bored well! I had the bored walk, the bored talk, the bored stance down to a pat. Bored never looked so good as far as I was concerned. Of course I was 13 and thought I knew everything so I could be excused for my ignorance. My daughter Rebekah though, she's too cool to believe anything I say so she sits and remains cool ... and bored.

She ordered this Cheerios towel after she'd eaten her cereal at 11 a.m. Nothing like getting  up early for breakfast, right? While she was laying on the couch being bored she noticed the ad for the free towel. She asked if she could order it and when I heard the word 'free' I was sold. So she ordered it. And I haven't stopped hearing about it ever since.

These are the thoughts of a father who's been off work for a week and spent it with his bored children. We've gone to the library, we've gone to the park, we've gone to get Slushies, we've gone on walks, we've gone swimming, we've gone to Cedar Park but all I hear about is the Cheerios towel. This towel better be all it's cracked up to be because I'm SICK of hearing about it from my more than bored daughter.

I'm heading back to work on Monday and guess what? I've never looked forward so much to work. I love my children but we need space, time, and that Cheerios towel to finally arrive. My tour of duty is coming to an end but my wife Heather's is coming up in August. I wish her luck . . . and that the towel arrives.

RBC does have a loyalty rate

Heather and I had it all planned out as we headed to our dreaded mortgage meeting. She's had a lousy week so she was the bad cop. I'm rarely in a bad mood so I was the good cop. Our hope was that together we'd get what we wanted and if not, leave frustrated.

I have to be honest, our last mortgage meeting five years ago did not go well. We had to raise a fuss just to get our lender to match our old rate of 5.23 per cent. We weren't going to go through that again which was why we were more determined than ever walking into today's meeting. I'd gone to other banks, spoke to some people and had some numbers to throw at RBC if it came to that. If somebody had asked us where we were going I would have answered in my best William Wallace imitation, 'I'm going to peck a fight.'

So you could imagine my surprise when our lender, Kelly Cooper, opened up our file and told us she could do better than our current rate. Without missing a beat she gave us the best posted fixed rate RBC had today, 4.14 per cent. That was exactly the number the other banks had been offering to lure our business away from RBC. And this was without us saying a single word. I looked at Heather, she looked at me and we both started to relax.

During the subsequent conversation Kelly mentioned "good customers" and "loyalty" more than once which  got me thinking, "did she read my last blog?" Maybe she did, I don't know. What I do know though was that Heather didn't have to pull her bad cop routine to garner us a lower rate. We were getting that by just being silent. I couldn't believe it.

I'd heard from a few friends RBC wasn't the best bank for your average customer. A reader of this blog had mentioned the same thing in a comment. The bank seemed to be geared more to business, less to your average homeowner. But today's meeting proved to me RBC does want to help the little guy, at least this little guy.

Heather and I now have the lowest fixed rate we've ever had and that's going to help us pay off our mortgage earlier. I can't wait having that extra $1,200 a month for other things, like maybe myself!

I was convinced that today's meeting was going to turn out bad. I was wrong and let me tell you being wrong isn't always a bad thing. Today it was awesome.

Does RBC offer a loyalty mortgage rate?

This is a big year for Heather and I financially -- it's mortgage renewal time.

In October our current 5-year mortgage is up meaning we can renew or move our business elsewhere. We're in that 120 day period where we can renew if we stay with RBC and tomorrow we've got an appointment to see if the bank will make us an offer we can't refuse. Somehow I doubt we'll hear that offer.

I had an appointment with BMO the other week to see what that bank could offer us. I came out impressed as the rate they offered was 1.5 per cent lower than our current rate. That struck me funny as a recent message RBC left on our phone had an ominous tone, talking about the hikes in interest rates and about how it was important to lock in now. A hike in interest rates . . . is that bank code for we're going to screw you royally?

A colleague of mine recently told me she's never stayed at a bank for longer than one mortgage renewal period. She's always been able to get a better rate at another bank. If the same holds true for me I have but one question -- What happened to loyalty?

If a new customer can walk into RBC and get offered a rate of 4.1 per cent why can't a customer who has been with the bank for more than 10 years get offered the same rate? What about a 'loyal customer' rate? I can already hear the laughter emanating from the mortgage lenders as they read this blog.

Maybe I'm wrong. Tomorrow Heather and I could walk out of RBC with the lowest rate we've ever paid. Or not.

What's your experience with banks? Any suggestions? I'd like to know. I'll let you know how we do at RBC tomorrow.

The RESP sacrifice will be worth it

I wrote the other day about my daughter entering Grade 8 next year. It's hard to believe she'll be entering her last year of grade school in the fall but to look at her you would already think Rebekah was in high school. Boys can look like boys well into their 30s but girls, they tend to look years older as soon as they turn 12.

High school is no longer a five year cycle. If you fail it could be five, six even seven years but that's not going to happen with Rebekah. She's pulling off grades that my parents never saw on my report cards. She must take after her mother.

So in a blink of an eye I will looking at my eldest daughter graduating high school. It shouldn't come as such a surprise. I went to high school with friends who now have daughters graduating university (congratulations Shona) so in some respect I'm a little tardy to the party! I also have colleagues at work whose sons and daughters are heading off to college and university. So the rising cost of education has come up as a topic of conversation.

Here's the million dollar question (gawd, I hope it's not that high!) -- what's it going to cost me?

My wife and I have been saving as much as we can for our kids' educations. Rebekah was lucky because we actually started saving for her education before she was born. We had money back in those days so we threw some of it away in a savings account. Later we switched it over to a Registered Education Savings Plan when Rebekah was born. The other two kids weren't as lucky but we've still managed to squirrel away some cash for them as well. Will it be enough? I doubt it. But it's something that's important so it has to be done.

Since the Recession of 2007-2008 there's been a lot of turmoil in the world. Here in Durham Region well paying jobs are being awarded to those with educations. Long gone are the days when you could leave high school, walk into General Motors and be set for life.

Everybody who has lost jobs around here has gone back to school for retraining. Education has become, if it wasn't already, the most important thing you could do for yourself.

Rebekah's four years away from the rest of her life. Whatever it costs will be worth it.

Remember when we ruled the school?

My daughter Rebekah just arrived home with an impressive Grade 7 report card and announced she's officially a Grade 8 student and as such she and her classmates have reached the top of the public school mountain.

"Grade 8s rule the school Dad, don't you know," she said.

Yah, I think I've heard that before. The last time I looked I made it through my years at Vincent Massey Public School. If memory serves me correctly 1983 was my class's year to rule the school.

But unlike the Class of 1983, the Class of 2012 will require two things we didn't -- constant affirmation and being spoiled in ways that were unheard of in the 80s.

Call this my Daddy rant because I've officially been put on notice about all the expenses a Grade 8 will incur such as the semi-formal at Christmas ("I'll need a dress and shoes Dad"), the Grade 8 day at the Blue Jays (that's not unusual as most grades do that at least once), graduation ("You don't expect me to wear the same dress, do you?") and last but not least the grad trip to Montreal. The current Grade 8s return from their trip tomorrow and for the low cost of $500 Rebekah will be there in 2012.

My how times have changed. In my day we were lucky to get bussed to shop and home economics classes at St. J. Phillips. An out of province trip? That type of thinking just didn't happen. But the way things are these days field trips are far more common and costly. As a parent I constantly fill out the forms on a regular basis. Today's students are a well travelled bunch.

As I write this I can hear an old man ranting, "When I was a kid we walked 10 miles uphill to school and 20 miles back home." The weather was always worse and we suffered terribly on a daily basis.

Oh my gawd, I am that old man!

I told Rebekah not to worry about ruling the school. Her day will come as soon as the Labour Day weekend ends.

"Enjoy it because in one short year you'll be a nifty niner," I said.

Rebekah rolled her eyes at me. I get that a lot these days and don't expect it to end any day soon!

Ruling the school...those were the days, weren't they?

Expectations

If I was to tell you Movie X was brilliant and then you heard a similar review from another friend you would expect that film to be very good. If you then read spectacular reviews about the movie you would enter the theatre expecting everything to be perfect. But we all know what would happen once the movie was over and you left the theatre. Disappointment.

Your expectations were so high that there's no way the movie would ever measure up. That's what happened to me last night when I saw Peter Gabriel at the Molson Canadian Amphitheatre. And I wasn't alone.

I was so pumped to see Peter Gabriel. I'd seen him before at the SkyDome in 1993 during his Secret World Tour and his performance was powerful, fun and jammed with amazing vocals. Nothing about the performer on stage last night resembled the one 18 years ago.

Peter Gabriel and the Blood Red Orchestra sounded like a winning combination when I purchased the tickets in April. But when Gabriel walked on stage you could hardly hear him. He spoke softly and sang softly. The orchestra and audience drowned him out at certain points of the performance.

He'd stripped down his show, took out the drums, guitars and theatricality that had become his trademark earlier in his career. The only time he moved on stage was to walk off while the orchestra played and he did that numerous times.

The clincher for me that I wasn't the only one caught off guard by this performance was the people around me. They were not engaged at all with what was (or wasn't) happening on stage. They were looking around the amphitheatre, leaving their seats in the middle of a song to get a beer and looking out at the poor people in the 400 level as the rain came down. When Biko was performed Peter had to tell the audience to stand up at the end of the song. He would NEVER have had to do that if the song was performed the way it was originally recorded. The last time I saw Gabriel sing Biko everyone was on their feet because the performance compelled the audience to stand. There was nothing compelling about last night's stripped down rendition of Biko.

People directly behind and beside me lamented he was not the Peter Gabriel of old, that he looked fat and had lost his spark. Not everyone felt that way. A review in the Toronto Star heaped praise on the concert (http://www.thestar.com/entertainment/article/1013624--peter-gabriel-s-new-blood-tour-a-masterful-reinvention). But the large group of people who left the concert an hour before it ended with us felt differently. We were expecting something different, something that resembled the Peter Gabriel of old. We came to the concert ready to rock with one of the greatest and left without any ringing in our ears at all.

I built this concert up into something it was not. Expectations, they're rarely what you expect them to be.

The wins and losses of coaching success

How hard could it be to coach nine and ten year olds? That's a question I asked myself last January when I signed my name to the dotted line when registering my son to play for the Woodview Mite softball team.

I played for Baker Park from the age of 8 until 21 so I had experience. I'd also helped coach a woman's team while living in Toronto in the 90s. It was relatively easy considering most of them were older than me at the time. It felt like being an arm-chair coach, most of them were good at one position or another so I simply pencilled them in at their best position and let them be the heroes. It worked out well as we made the City of Toronto finals and had a great time (and a few beers afterwards) getting there.

But the team I coach these days cannot drink beer with me, they are of the juice box drinking variety and they  do not know the game. It's not so easy to pencil them in at this position or that because few if any of them know where they can play. It's up to me to coach them, to determine where they're best suited to help the team. Oh yah, I also have to switch each and every player into as many positions I can per game at this level. It can prove to be quite interesting.

I thought all was well when the first two games of the season came and went. Two wins, no losses, not bad for a first year coach. The kids were also encouraged by the two-game winning streak. That though was early June. Our late June record now shows two wins, five losses. Ouch.

This past weekend was our first tournament and for reasons that were beyond me we were slotted into the A Division. Two wins and five losses and we're in the A Division, okay, doesn't make a lot of sense but my team played along and we managed to squeak out a win in our first game against Kedron, a team we'd lost to in regular season play. The kids were on Cloud 9 when we'd won. They jumped up and hollered when we'd won giving me a sense of accomplishment. It felt good seeing them so exited about one win.

The next day we played Courtice 3, one of the few teams we'd beaten earlier in the season. It was a hard-fought match but Woodview came out on the losing end 15-13. Tough.

Game 3 saw us meeting Harmon Park and three of the players on that team were as tall as me. I'm 5 foot-seven but also hold the distinction of being 43 years old. These three kids were 10 years old and looked me straight in the eye! Bam, bam, bam, our team was literally giving Harmon Park batting practise. We went down to defeat, 16-4. There was no bronze medal game for Woodview this weekend. We played our hearts out but came up short.

Being the coach I felt the disappointment more than you'll know. My team wanted so much to play one more game and despite the huge loss we took at the hands of Harmon Park I hoped we'd still have a shot at a medal game.

The result left us all hanging our heads in disappointment. Then my Dad came forward to give me a heads-up. One of my players' fathers had struck up a conversation with him over the weekend and told him how his daughter was really enjoying the season so far. She thought I was a good coach because of my enthusiasm and that I moved her around the field so much. That was just what I needed to hear.

Truth be told it's in the rules that I have to move my players around to every position except pitcher and catcher. So if that makes me look like a good coach, I'll take it. But my enthusiasm stems from a belief that I think my team is THE BEST no matter what our record indicates. Yes, we have good players and not so good players. But each and every one of the 12 players on my team wants to play, have fun and hopefully win. I can always guarantee they'll play, I'm trying my best to make it fun but winning is not always as easy a recipe to follow. We've had limited success to date but I know we'll have more in the future.

No matter what happens between now and August, I want to continue making softball fun and I want to continue teaching my kids all I can about the game. My success won't be what record we end up with at the end of the season, my success will come registration next season.

I too started playing softball at the same age as my current team. We lost every game that season except one. We won that one by default. A few years later the same group of kids were winning city championships on a regular basis as they grew older and developed their love for the game.

My goal is to foster a love for the game. I hope I achieve it because the kids on my team now have so much potential. They're my team and I'm proud to be their coach.

Kickin' it old school

Try picking up a gas powered lawn mower this way. You can't.

 I'm no Fred Flintstone but there is one thing I do that many consider prehistoric.

I cut my lawn but in doing so I rarely make any noise. How do you do that without making noise, you may be asking yourselves? Well, it's easy once you take the engine out of your lawn mower.

That's right, I own a manual push mower. While others spark up their lawn mowers and get'er done I am content to push mine around the yard. The only power in my lawn mower comes from my upper body. It takes some getting used to each spring but once the muscles are warmed up it's all good.

It's called kickin' it old school.


Back when I bought this prehistoric grass cutter I only had a patch of lawn to worry about. Actually a whipper-snipper could have been used to cut my front yard but I needed something bigger for the backyard.
Well, I've moved since then and my current front and backyard now are significantly larger but I keep pushing and pushing and pushing. It's just something I do. All my neighbours use the gas powered variety of lawn mowers but I've remained faithful to the zero emissions type of grass cutter. David Suzuki would be so proud!

One advantage to using this style of lawn mower is safety. I have a 9-year-old son who is at that stage in life where he wants to help me cut the lawn so having him push this thing around the yard is far safer than a gas powered machine. I remember the look on my own father's face when he first let me use his LawnBoy. He followed me around for quite some time. At the time I felt as if he was cramping my space but now, a father myself, I understand his concerns. A push mower offers the advantage that when you stop pushing it the blade stops rotating. And you cannot cut the lawn while pulling it backwards because the blade only goes forward. Safe, simple and affordable.

Do I wish had another type of lawn mower? Sometimes. If your grass gets too long it can be REALLY tiring pushing your way through it manually. Truth be told it SUCKS. There's nothing worse than feeling like you ran a marathon when all you've done is gone back and forth, back and forth, back and forth to chop your grass down to a manageable level. You're sweating, tired, out of breath and you think, "What the hell am I doing this for? There's a reason why man invented real lawn mowers, it's so we don't have to feel this freaking shitty!"

But then I break free from my reverie and I realize that if there's one thing I'm good at in life, it's suffering. Why do things the easy way when I can do them my way?! Let's face facts, I always get into the longest line at the grocery store, I never get an up front parking space and if there's a traffic jam, chances are I'm in it. Suffice to say, cutting my lawn could be easier but I choose to make it challenging!

Will I ever buy a real lawn mower? Nah. If I ever did I'd never get the chance to answer the kids who come up to me every summer to ask, "Why do you use that type of lawn mower?" And I wouldn't be able answer "because I'm not a lazy slob like your father!" Catches them totally off guard. :)

I don't really hate my dog

It's pretty easy to say you hate something.

"I hate cleaning the house, I hate telling anyone more than once to do something, I hate rainy days, I hate peas." There, that was easy.

But saying it and feeling it are different things. Do I really hate peas? They've never done anything to warrant my hate. I actually don't mind them in Chinese food. So hate might be wrong word when I describe how I truly feel about peas.

One of the cushions on the couch Ozzie's laying
on in this picture became his dinner.

I've cursed at our family dog more than once. He's a beagle and has chewed and clawed through our basement door and eaten a couch pillow. He's also incapable of going to the washroom in his own backyard so Heather and I take him on daily walks so he can do his business. Yes, we've both said, "I hate that dog" on more than one occasion.

Two nights ago though hate was the last thing on our minds concerning Ozzie when it became apparent to everyone he was gone. The damn dog went AWOL while we were ferrying kids off to soccer and softball games.

We didn't notice he was even gone until we were putting the kids to bed. Ozzie regularly takes his spot at the foot of my son Tavish's bed and when I called out to him he didn't respond. How could he when he was up the street at a neighbour's house eating a sausage and enjoying a new fluffy bed? Unbelievable.

While the dog was enjoying the company of strangers I was out wandering through the neighbourhood calling out for a dog who couldn't hear me from his comfortable digs at our neighbour's house. I kept thinking the worst, it was cold, it was rainy and then I remembered the cars. What if he had gotten hit and was laying dead in a gutter? Or worse, what if he got hit and was in agony laying in a gutter? My mind was making me worry but when I got home with no dog at the end of the leash it wasn't difficult to tell I wasn't the only one concerned. The kids were in tears and by the look in my wife Heather's eyes she was as worried as me was about the dog.

The next morning the kids were in tears again and when I got to work I posted a Facebook and Twitter request for people to keep an eye out for Ozzie. Kristen Calis even put a warning on her Kristen's Kritters blog at durhamregion.com. Everyone was concerned for a little dog who had no worries at all because he was having the time of his life.

Ozzie returned from his vacation in the afternoon when our neighbour's called us to say it was time for him to check out. The relief I felt was real and so welcoming when I saw the little dog sitting at home wagging his tail. The look in his eyes said, "Hey, you're not going to believe the time I had last night." I wanted to kill him but instead I just hugged him. He's so dumb he didn't even know we were worried sick about him.

Yes, I admit, I say I hate the dog more often than I should. But I don't really hate him. I just dislike many of his bad habits. I am officially going to take 'hate' out of my vocabulary.

Player to coach transition not easy

I spent most of my youth playing softball for Baker Park. By the time I finished playing at the age of 20 I had gotten pretty good. I still have my championship trophies from those years. My son Tavish proudly displays them on the shelves in his bedroom, right next to the medals he's earned playing for Woodview Park the past two seasons. He hasn't won a city championship yet but give him time.

During my playing days I had a number of coaches. They must have done something right because I lived and breathed softball for a good decade of my life. I only stopped because this little thing called life got in the way. I was forced to grow up, go to school, get a hair cut and finally get a real job. I thought my softball days were behind me but I was wrong.

Two summers ago Tavish asked to play for Woodview so I registered him. The moment he stepped onto the field for his very first practise I was hooked again. All the old thrills of playing came flooding back and I lived for Monday and Wednesday nights, Tavish's game days.

Tavish yucking it up when he should
have been practising his swing!

Whenever Tavish's coaches needed a hand I was there to help out. I rarely missed any of his games or practises and when he did well I was on cloud nine. Likewise, when Tavish struck out or muffed a play in the field I felt his pain.  I guess that's all part of being a parent.

This year Woodview needed a coach so Tav asked me if I would step up to the plate and volunteer. I agreed. Truth be told I wanted to be the coach and given my experience playing the game I figured I could do it. When I signed the dotted line in January I thought, "piece of cake" but next week the season starts and all of a sudden I'm thinking, "Gawd, I hope I don't screw this up."

Tomorrow is the team's first practise. We would have practised earlier but it's been so rainy the past week all the fields have been off limits. It's been AGONIZING waiting for this first practise. I'm literally freaking out inside because I want everything to go just as planned. Logically I know things will be fine but I'm still nervous and that's just not how I operate. Calm, cool and collected is how I usually roll.

It's my job to teach these kids how to play the game and to keep it fun. Maybe we'll win a few games, maybe we won't. There's so many unknowns at this point.

Tavish's looking forward to getting out there tomorrow. I should probably just take a page out of his book and chill out. After all we're talking about a bunch of nine and ten year olds, how hard could it be? We'll see tomorrow, we'll see tomorrow.

Give the rookies a chance

A lot of media types are making a big deal about the number of rookie New Democratic Party MPs who were elected in the May 2 federal election. They want to see the train wreck and can't wait for the first screw up that is bound to come.

For those who haven't heard or who may not live here in Canada, the NDP made history on election night when 104 of their candidates were elected. As a result, the party became the Official Opposition to the Conservative Party. The Liberal Party stumbled in this election and was reduced to 34 seats giving them third party status in Parliament.


 Most of the rookie NDP candidates were elected in Quebec. Quite a few were university students. Now they must put aside their studies and focus on their new jobs which pay quite a bit more than minimum wage and include benefits.

Will NDP leader Jack Layton have a tough job teaching his new colleagues the ropes? You bet. Given their numbers there's a steep learning curve for everyone. But I'm not one of the naysayers who's looking down their nose at these young people. I think it's great there's some new blood in the House of Commons.

It wasn't that long ago I was young and breaking into the newspaper industry. I remember walking into one of my first newspaper jobs at the Bloor West Villager as the whole staff minus one guy in production was leaving. They'd quit and were starting a competing newspaper down the street. In one moment I went from cub reporter to editor. It was a tough adjustment but I did it. Two years later the Villager was voted best community newspaper at the Ontario Community Newspaper Association. Victory was mine.

If I could go back in time I wouldn't change a thing about that experience. It made me learn a lot and learn it fast in a very public manner, something many of these rookie MPs will discover as well.

Given the Conservatives now have a majority government it's probably the best time for these new NDP MPs to learn the ropes. If the NDP had actually won the election outright, sure it would have been a different story. Those of us who lived through the Bob Rae years in Ontario remember some of the mistakes made when his party formed government. But being in the Opposition benches the glare of the spotlight won't be as harsh.

In 2004 a Conservative rookie MP by the name of Colin Carrie was elected in Oshawa. He was trained as a chiropractor and knew nothing about being a MP. He learned his job and has now been re-elected three times.

But that's the media, we're waiting for a mistake, something to pounce on. I may not like it but I get it.

There will be some mistakes made in the next four years by members of all political parties whether they're young or old. To err is human.

Anybody who's new to Parliament will have to learn the ropes. Let's give them all a chance before we try to knock them down.

Bringing out the worst in people

Have you ever made somebody freak out without even trying? I have. I'm not talking about your husband or wife, boyfriend or girlfriend either. I'm talking about a complete stranger.

A few years ago I was at a busy butcher's shop waiting to place an order. I wasn't in a rush and was just standing in line when the butcher yelled "Number 93. Who's got number 93?"

Looking down at my ticket I relaxed because my number wasn't 93, it was 94.

"Ninety three, I'm looking for 93, he said again.

Everyone looked around but number 93 didn't step forward. Finally the butcher said, "Okay, who's got number 94?"

I held up my ticket and stepped forward. I'd already told him what I wanted and was waiting for him to prepare it when a woman came up behind me and grabbed my shoulder.

"Are you number 94?" she asked me.

"Yes," I replied.

"So how do you feel about yourself jumping in front of me?" she snarled.

"I didn't jump in front of anyone, he called my number," I said.

At this point in the conversation the proverbial train left her station and she flipped out. Hysterically she began yelling at me for taking advantage of her when her daughter had just died.

"Listen I'm not in that much of a hurry, you go ahead," I told her. I could feel my face going about a dozen shades of red. I didn't know this woman and I certainly didn't know her daughter had just died.

The woman placed her order and I stepped back. But while she was waiting for the butcher she turned on me again to yell some more. It was obvious that arguing with this woman would only have made things worse so I didn't engage her. I just took the abuse knowing that whatever the woman was going through must have been tough and I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

When I got back up to the butcher's counter he apologized on behalf of his customer. I told him it was no big deal but here I am years later still thinking about it. I wonder if that woman remembers me? I wonder if she regrets taking her frustrations in life out on a complete stranger? I wonder.

Fast forward to this week and I again found myself in a precarious position with regards to a complete stranger being upset with me for reasons I had nothing remotely to do with. I was walking the dog with my son Tavish and we'd stopped so he could explain a story to me. Tavish was right in the middle of his tale when all of a sudden he stepped back.

"What's wrong Tav?" I asked.

Tav remained silent and just looked beyond me at something approaching.

"What did that damn dog just do on my lawn?" a crusty voice growled behind me. I turned around and saw a woman standing there with her hands on her hips.

"Just pee," I replied.

"Better be. I'd better not find anything else on my lawn," she said. "Now get out of here."

She then turned around and stomped back into her home.

I turned to look at Tav. "Why did she say that Dad?" he asked.

"She must think that Oz (the dog) was going to crap on her lawn," I said.

"But you would have picked it up, right Dad?" he said.

"That's why I have these bags," I said holding one up.

As we walked away I looked back to see the woman glaring at us from her window. Again, wrong place at the wrong time. Obviously some other dog owner had left a package for this woman on more than one occasion and I was the unfortunate guy who stopped in front of her house while she was looking out her front window. 

On both these occasions I didn't do anything to warrant the abuse I took. What can I say, sometimes I just bring the worst out in people.

Has anything like this ever happened to you?

Peter Gabriel has thrown me a concert lifeline

My wife Heather and I do not get out often. Three kids, a dog and a cat tend to limit our social calendars.

But we do try to get away to catch a concert or two each year. Heather's list of must-see concerts includes James Taylor, James Taylor and James Taylor. Oh, did I mention she's a big fan of James Taylor? That's right, for about 8 years James has come to Toronto every other summer and paid us a visit at the Molson Canadian Amphitheatre. The price has always been affordable and we really enjoy the venue.

A couple of years ago James went commercial on us. Last winter he came to Toronto with Carole King. I went online to order tickets and then gasped at the price, almost $200 a ticket. Hmm, what to do, feed the family or let them starve for a few weeks and see a concert? The food and hunger thing won out.

Heather forgave James and we both hoped he'd come back to Toronto this summer without Carole King (yes we blamed her for the over priced tickets, not James!). Well, James announced three weeks ago he would be back in Toronto in June at the Rexall Centre but again his tickets cost upwards of $200 each. Again, feed the family or see a concert? For the second time in less than a year we put the credit card back in the family wallet and hit cancel in the 'purchase tickets' section of the Live Nation website.

A quick search of the bands playing the Toronto area this summer turned up slim pickings for two 40-somethings. Teenagers though, they'll be rocking out this July and August. Oh to be younger...

Two weeks ago though Live Nation sent me a lifeline. I got an e-mail from them announcing Peter Gabriel was touring and would make a stop in Toronto this June.

Both Heather and I have been big fans of Peter Gabriel going back many years. We last saw him at the SkyDome in 1993 during his Secret World Tour. But he wandered off into concert obscurity after that and hasn't been heard from since.

The Peter Gabriel New Blood Tour comes to Toronto on June 22. I immediately checked Live Nation fully expecting to see James Taylor ticket prices. To my relief the tickets were half the price. For $200 we got two tickets in the 300 level.

So my question is this, how could a performer of Peter Gabriel's status charge half as much for one of his concerts while James Taylor, who used to be affordable to see, charge such exorbitant prices? It's just not right.

Yes, I realize James Taylor could fill practically any venue he wanted. There are a lot of Boomers out there who would pay any price to see him. Unfortunately I'm not a Boomer or able to shell out that much coin for 90 minutes of entertainment.

Funny, I took Heather to see Jason Mraz a few summers ago and we paid around $75 a ticket and ended up in the front row at the Molson Canadian Amphitheatre. We were two of the older people in the crowd but Jason Mraz put on just as good a show as James Taylor ever has. The difference? Jason Mraz's fans were made up of Generation Ys with far less disposable income.

In my mind though a concert is a concert is a concert. If one Boomer could put on an affordable concert why couldn't another? Just asking.

 

If you think you're having a bad day think again



 I'm sporting a nasty bruise on my hip today thanks to a lightsaber battle I lost at the hands of Darth Child last night. Did he use the force on me? No. Was my lightsaber thrown from my hands? No. How I lost this battle was epic, I fell over the vacuum cleaner. Who leaves out a vacuum cleaner in a Death Star? I am so not a Jedi.

***

My family was reduced by two this weekend and daughter No. 2 was never happier. Rebekah and Tavish disappeared to two different sleepover parties leaving Heather and me with Bronwyn. It felt like 1998 all over again when we had just one child to look after. I'd forgotten how much easier it was to entertain and feed a single child. Bronwyn loved the undivided attention. Far too often she has to battle with her older brother and sister to be heard. No yelling this weekend though.

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If somebody carves the word 'asshole' into the side of your car while it's parked in the driveway that's what I would call a bad day.

If somebody returns and throws silver paint over the hood of your car that's still parked in your driveway that's what I would call another bad day.

If your birch tree gets blown over rendering your front yard a complete disaster I would call that a really awful day.

Believe it or not these things have all happened to my neighbour in the last three weeks. The car problems were a result of a dispute with a former tenant. The birch tree could only be the result of a dispute with God.



Timber! This is what I would call a bad day.



Last summer a water pipe leading to his house sprung a small leak that went undetected for weeks. His yard turned into a bog. He got the leak repaired but in the process must have damaged the root system to the tree.

Last night the wind blew the birch over making a mess of the whole yard. Funny, when asked, not one neighbour could recall hearing the tree fall putting an end to an age old mystery!

The part of the birch over hanging the street has been removed but my neighbour, who shall remain nameless, had to cut that part with a handsaw. Nobody had a chainsaw for him to borrow. It will be interesting how long it takes to him to get this mess cleaned up.

So if you think you're having a bad month, think again. You could be my poor neighbour or worse yet, you could be his tree.