Let me clarify. A “stupid friend” is not someone who is stupid. A “stupid friend” is a friend who knows you and loves you well enough to tell you when you are doing something stupid.
Mine was a silly little thing. My best friend Leslie and I were buying souvenirs in Scotland. I wanted to get a tartan pencil and grabbed one at the cash to include with Leslie’s purchase. We asked how much it was as the sales clerk was ringing it in and the clerk said “Two pound 99”, which would be just shy of $6 in Canadian funds. For a pencil! I nodded my head and handed Leslie the money.
On the way out of the store, Leslie said that was stupid, you shouldn’t have bought that. She was right of course. Later that day, I saw a set of four pencils for 75 pence, about $1.50.
I wish I had been a better stupid friend the other day when a friend of mine who wasn’t feeling well decided to play golf in this sweltering heat. He had to leave the course when he started feeling dizzy and weak. If I had known what he was going to do, I would have told him he was stupid to play golf in this weather.
A stupid friend will always look out for you and want what’s best for you. They can be a voice of reason, the perfect foil, or a person who balances you out, the yin to your yang. They are the very best and truest of friends because they are always there when you need them, especially when you are your own worst enemy.
Dear friends. I hope you are well. I’m writing this letter to let you how very, very unhappy the people of Canada feel towards you right now.
I’ve enjoyed and valued our friendship over the years. Getting to know you at conferences and enjoying lively conversations over dinner and fun nights out exploring your cities, and the adventures during our travels in your beautiful country.
We’ve shared memories, values, and beliefs, but now it seems you want to pick a fight.
It hurts us when you refer to Canada as the 51st state and want to slap tariffs on all our goods, destroying decades of prosperous free trade for both our countries.
As Canadians, we feel hurt, betrayed, and angry.
If this is how you treat your friends, I shudder to think how you treat your enemies.
We understand your pain and frustration. During our travels, we’ve seen first-hand the economic decay of your country, from the derelict empty storefronts in your small towns to the abandoned factories and the “rust belt” of America.
You believe you will make America great again, a formidable global superpower. But you are misguided. The world has changed and your place has changed in it. Your power has waned. And while you think tariffs will restore your prosperity and place you at the top of the world pedestal of power, it won’t. That ship has sailed.
You’ve always sensed but never understood why the rest of the world dislikes you.
I remember years ago when I was backpacking in Europe hearing a young American boy say to someone, “Oh, you speak American!” The person replied, “No, I speak English”.
Later that night at the hostel, the European travellers tried to explain to him why Americans weren’t liked. That to the rest of the world, it always seemed like you had a chip on your shoulder, that you were arrogant.
That you meddled in other people’s affairs, sometimes overtly, sometimes covertly if there was something of value at stake like oil or natural resources, but were nowhere to be seen when wars or atrocities happened in poor countries.
I never knew if you didn’t know how people truly felt about you or if you knew but just didn’t care.
Some of you may be under the false impression that we are essentially the same, but you just have to look to our national anthems to understand how we are different. Yours is about battles and armaments with rockets glaring and bombs bursting in air. Ours is about patriot love, glowing hearts and being strong and free.
We will never be the 51st state. Canada will always be strong and free.
You have slapped us in the face, so we will look for new friends. Friends we can trade with, visit, and work with to create a better world.
I can’t help reflecting on two important anniversaries.
On February 24, 2022, Russian forces invaded the Ukraine. While the invasion was ordered by Vladimir Putin, the Russian people have been complicit in this flagrant breach of international law and aggression and have been silent. Perhaps they are misinformed, believing whatever propaganda their government is feeding them, or believing that if Ukraine had joined NATO it would somehow be a threat to Russia’s sovereignty. The bottom line is the Russian people have allowed it to happen.
January 27, 2025 marked the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. The liberation of this most famous of the concentration and extermination camps that killed six million Jews during the Second World War shed light on the atrocities and evil of Adolph Hitler and the Nazi regime.
The German people could have prevented Hitler’s rise to power, but they too stood silent despite early signs. In November, 1923 the Nazi Party led by Adolf Hitler attempted to overthrow the government using violence. It resulted in Hitler’s arrest and a temporary ban on the Nazi Party. And yet, the German people voted for the Nazi Party a decade later when Adolph Hitler was appointed Chancellor.
Hitler systematically destroyed democracy in Germany in his first two months of power through constitutional means by changing laws or looking for weakness in laws. The German people did nothing.
My American friends, you don’t have the excuse of not knowing what is happening in your own country. And you have the power to do something about it. You still live in a democratic society. For now.
Take action. Write to your elected representatives. Organize or join a protest. Refuse to implement edicts that hurt others, either within your own country or outside its borders. Don’t turn your back on Canada. Don’t turn your back on the world.
I wanted to end this letter by sharing this photo of our Canadian flag being unfurled yesterday in Ottawa, on its 60th birthday. We are and always will be #CanadaStrong.
P.S. Please know when we are booing your national anthem at sporting events, we are not booing the players, the team, or your anthem. We are raising our voices in political protest to be heard. Make your voice heard too.
Like many fathers, my Dad wasn’t exactly into Christmas. After my Mom passed away, he’d decorate the house by putting one teensy weensy bow above the fireplace, declare to anyone in the room who was listening “Festive, ain’t it?”, then promptly fix himself a rye and ginger.
Every year when we asked Dad, “What do you want for Christmas?”, his response was always the same: “just the love of you kids around me” (and a six-pack of beer).
Fast forward twenty years, and Dad’s words were echoing in my head throughout the day yesterday. We hosted our annual gathering of the neighbours. There was lots of smiles, laughs, and good cheer even though there was less to be cheerful about this year, singing, sharing of food and drink and enough presents to fill up Grinch’s sleigh.
Our neighbours Kim and Bruno gave us one of the best Christmas presents ever: a custom fish trophy made with Bruno’s 3-D printer, four identical lures, one for Dave, Clare, Grace and me and a year-long fishing tournament challenge: to see who could catch the most fish with the tried and true Berkley Flicker Shad 7. What a wonderful gift: a year of fun on the water and friendly jibes to see who is the best fisherperson in our family.
Not to be outdone, my neighbour Charlene gave us a wonderful gift basket but in it was my second favourite present ever: a mug that says “Most people never get to meet their favourite player—I’m raising mine”. Charlene always picks out the perfect mug or cup for us every year.
Our cottage neighbours brought some beautiful gifts as well, but their best gift was when their son Daniel sat down on the piano and played Chopin and Christmas tunes as the kids sang along.
As I sip my coffee this morning in my new mug, and dream about the first warm days when the ice is out and I can make my first cast in the soft light of the morning, I think my Dad was right. The greatest gift of all is having the love and laughter of the people you care about around you.
The neighbour’s annual Christmas holiday gathering 2021
Last week after I wrote my blog, I went for a nice walk in the snow to look for the eagles that soar over our lake this time of year. I slipped on a slight skiff of snow on ice and fell and broke my ankle. Two trips to the hospital, one surgery, a cast and crutches later, I’m now staring down 6-8 weeks of sitting on my couch with all our holiday plans scuppered.
As the week wore on, we started getting calls and texts from neighbours who said they were planning to pop by with food. Not just food, full meals of pork roast and potatoes, Morroccan chicken with salad, pulled pork, beef brisket, ribs and chicken wings and treats and wine. We have enough food in the fridge now to last until Christmas without having to cook a meal!
We’ve always been blessed with best neighbours. As a kid growing up in Port Credit, our neighbourhood and the people in it were our entire world. All the neighbourhood kids hung out together playing street hockey in the winter and baseball in the summer. The Moms of the Neighbourhood were a powerful posse, watching over and taking care of us. On the one hand, it was great. If you needed help–you could knock on any door, but the downside was there were about 25 other parents watching your every move who could get you in trouble!
I appreciated this amazing group of women even more as a teenager when my Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. For seven years, they visited, brought us food and helped drive my Mom to appointments, and then doing the same for my father after she passed away.
In 1995, Dave and I made a huge leap of faith and moved to a small farmhouse outside of the village of Sydenham where we didn’t know a soul. Our first two sets of neighbours were a family of sheep farmers and a single guy, a military communications officer named Kramer.
Kramer was like the Kramer of Seinfeld fame with a big personality and a big heart, but with a lot less hair. He would show up at our door out of the blue with a whiskey bottle in hand or come for dinner, and stay until the wee hours of the morning. We’d push him out the back door, watching him stumble and weave across the lawn in the moonlight and up the steps until he was home safe.
On the other side of us was a lovely family of five called the Orsers. They too became fast friends and we’d visit back and forth, especially during lambing season when Dave and I would spend hours in their barn, petting and holding the baby lambs. During the ice storm of ’98 when we lost power for two days, Neil and Pat and the kids all bunked down at our house since we had a wood stove.
When Kramer moved to the Wasaga Beach area, we said our sad goodbyes and welcomed new neighbours into our midst: a young couple by the name of Jeff and Karrie. Jeff and Karrie became some of our closest friends. It was Jeff who found our beloved cat Angus dead, hit by a car on the road and gently put him in a box and broke the news to us when we came home from work. It was Jeff and Karrie who babysat Grace for the first time, giving us our first afternoon out as new parents. They live in Edmonton now—our kids are all grown up, but we still keep in touch.
When we made the move from Sydenham to Verona, we thought the same thing: there is no way we’ll ever have such great neighbours, but yet again, we were wrong. Our one neighbour Mark Berry reminded me so much of my Dad who had passed away just after we moved into our beautiful lakefront property.
Mark was the inventor of the “unbirthday party”. He’d putter over to our house on his tractor bearing gifts for us and the kids “just because”. His dog Buddy became best friends with our border collie, even sleeping some nights on our deck in our lawn chairs in the summer. We were very sad when he moved back to Toronto to be closer to his children.
Fast forward to today, when once again we have the best neighbours ever. Through the years, our little tight-knit community has grown even closer. Whether it’s popping by for a drink, getting together to celebrate one of the kids’ birthdays next door, graduation celebrations, Canada Day fireworks, or our Christmas Eve tradition of gathering at one of our houses, our time spent together has become some of my favourite memories here on the lake.
They’ve become extended family, and have been a huge life support for us, especially this year. I honestly don’t know what we would have done without them.
So thanks my dear friends and neighbours, for your love and support, friendship and all the delicious food that is now overspilling from my fridge. I look forward to sharing many more precious memories in the years ahead with my favourite neighbours, the best neighbours in the world!
Clare trick or treating with the neighbours’ kids this year
There are no words to describe the comfort of a friend. Friends console us when we’re down. They are a sympathetic ear when troubles weigh heavy on your heart and the first person to say I believe in you. You will overcome this.
They share in life’s joys, sorrows and celebrations. They are the person you turn to when you need a hug, or someone to listen without judgement, or just want to share a laugh or what’s on your mind. They love you unconditionally, warts and all. Without them, we’d be lost.
It’s a scientific fact that having one good friend has a significant impact on happiness. It’s not surprising having a friend increases your happiness in good times, but it’s been proven that having a friend is critical during times of stress when you need help.
In his New York University course The Science of Happiness, Dr. Alan Schlechter lectures about the “tend and befriend” response. The cousin to the fight or flight response, the tend and befriend response is when the hormone oxytocin, induced by stress tells us to reach out for help. When we reach out to a friend, our cortisone level goes down and we feel better.
They say you’re lucky to have at least one true friend in your lifetime. I’ve been fortunate enough to have two, my best friend Leslie and my husband Dave. Thanks for being my rock, guys. I love you both.
This week’s #HappyAct is to tell your best friend how much they mean to you.
Last Saturday, friends and family gathered in Madoc to celebrate the life of Jack Patch. Jack was a dear friend of ours who passed away last year. His wife, Dianna had asked me to say a few words that day, but I couldn’t.
I wanted to, but I didn’t know what I wanted to say. That’s because Jack was a classic. In many ways, he was indescribable.
And then one night this week, as I was walking on a country road with the sun shimmering through the trees and the sounds of tinging bats and shouts from Clare’s baseball practice wafting in the distance, the words just came to me.
This is what I wanted to say.
Jack Patch was a classic. He was my Jack.
Jack was my dance partner. When all the other men in the room wanted to sit around and drink beer, Jack would be the one who would get up and dance with two women at the same time.
Jack was a child. Jack always liked kids, including my kids, as long as they didn’t irritate him too much or did what he wanted. I think it was because he never grew up himself.
Jack with our friend Murray and Libby’s son, Alex as a boy
Jack was a mountain man and MacGyver guy. He puttered. I never saw him move faster than a shuffle, unless the sap was about to boil over in his homemade maple syrup operation.
Jack and Dianna bought 25 acres on the Moira River in the 1980s and built a cabin on the river. We had some great parties in those days, and we were all there to help them when they decided to quit work and build an off-the-grid cabin on the land. That basically gave him carte blanche to build stuff and putter for the next 25 years.
Jack and Dave putting up drywall in their home on the Moira River
Jack was an environmentalist. He built trails on his property and did annual counts for species like birds and frogs. He was nature’s friend.
Jack was a dog lover. He always had a four-legged friend by his side. Even as his mind and body started to fail him, his neighbour’s dog Sophie was his faithful friend and helped spark life back into him.
Jack was my skinny dipping partner. He believed swimming trunks were a scourge on humanity and had the skinny dip down to an art of science.
He would stroll to the end of the dock, sit down and dangle his white legs in the water, and slip off his trunks so surreptitiously, only the loons would notice. My favourite picture I ever took of Jack was one I snapped quietly while he was sitting on the end of our friend Murray’s dock with one cheek showing.
Jack was my vintner. Jack was a purveyor of bad alcohol. Bad wine. Really bad wine. But we drank it anyway.
Jack was my comic relief. My favourite Jack quote of all time was on January 1, 2000. Our regular group had spent the millennium New Year’s at Jack and Dianna’s off-the-grid cottage, because if the world was going to end, you might as well spend it with the people you love most and at a place where you don’t need electricity.
We had imbibed in a few too many drinks naturally, and the next morning were slow to emerge from our hovels to see if the world was still intact. I remember Jack shuffling out of his bedroom in his saggy t-shirt and boxer shorts. He scratched his chest and said, “Well, that’s a relief. Now I don’t have to worry about being a 90s man anymore.”
Not that Jack was ever a 90s man. Jack figured out about 40 years ago, that if he didn’t do something exactly the way Dianna wanted him to do it, it would give him a lifetime free pass. That included changing diapers, dishes and just about anything he didn’t want to do.
Jack was a lover of life. He always had a twinkle in his eye, and a wonderful low chuckle of a laugh, the Jack laugh.
One of the last times we saw Jack was on a visit to Pine Meadows nursing home in Northbrook where he spent his last year. It was Mother’s Day weekend, and the staff had brought in an entertainer for a morning sing-along with the guests. The nice singer in a break between songs at one point asked if Jack was my father, or who he was in relation to me.
I simply said, “He’s my Jack.” And he was a classic.
Jack, we love you and miss you. Thank you for all the happy memories. I hope you’ve finally found your happy place where you can putter, skinny dip and dance to your heart’s content.
For once, I followed through on a New Year’s resolution.
Last January, I posted this blog where I vowed to walk one day each week at lunch with a fellow Empire Life employee. My goals were to stay connected with my co-workers and what’s happening in the company, get in shape, and save money (as opposed to going out for lunch with people to catch up).
In full disclosure, I didn’t quite make my goal—work schedules, vacation, and a nasty gland infection in November meant I finished just shy of my 52 walks this year, but I figure I met it in spirit. Here is what I learned on my walks:
For some of us, a quick walk at lunch is one of the only times to ourselves. For instance, I learned one co-worker has five kids under the age of seven, with two-year old twins. If I had five kids under the age of seven, I’d definitely need an escape now and then!
Every person has a story to tell. One of my favourite walks this year was with a co-worker who just happened to mention that her husband had received an invitation to the royal wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. She agreed to let me post a little contest on our company intranet to guess who the mystery wedding guest was. We had a lot of fun as people tried to guess which of us knew royalty.
People have many hidden passions and talents. Several guys I work with are beer aficionados and are members of the Kingston and Area Brewers of Beer club, I work with several “foodies”, and people love their pets!
Life is full of joy and challenges. Many shared their lives, struggles and challenges with me. It was a great reminder that you never really know what’s going on in people’s lives (despite Facebook and Instagram) and to always listen with your heart.
And finally, but I didn’t need 52 walks to know this, I work with some of the nicest, most talented people around. Thanks to everyone who joined me for a walk in 2018. I plan to continue my walks in 2019.
What’s your New Year’s resolution? Leave a comment.
As much as it’s important to avoid unhappy habits, it’s just as important to avoid hanging out with people who are pessimistic, focus too much on themselves and see themselves as victims in this world.
As Ed Sheeran in his beautiful song Save Yourself says, “human beings are destined to radiate or drain.”
This week’s #HappyAct is to surround yourself with people who are positive, bring out the best in you and who radiate. Avoid those who drain.
Elaine on the right with her sister Lynn-Marie (also retired!) at her retirement celebration
I’ve attended a lot of retirement parties lately. Several years ago, my company announced a change to retiree benefits, and I think many of my friends and colleagues just decided it was time to go.
While some people like to quietly slip out, Elaine helped plan an entire week of retirement festivities with lunches, dinners, and an after-work fete at a local bar. Today, I’m taking her to Handel’s Messiah for her retirement present.
On Friday, I celebrated the upcoming retirement of my friend Beatrice, who told us that Empire Life was the longest place she ever worked. She stayed because she liked the people she was working with so much and the work was always interesting and challenging.
There are so many reasons why these celebrations are so special.
I enjoy hearing the incredible stories and contributions my colleagues have made to their organizations, often over the course of decades.
I love seeing the smiles and laughter around the room and how genuinely happy everyone is for the person retiring.
I like seeing former colleagues who made the leap years ago who came to honour the newest recruit to their ranks. Without fail, they look ten years younger and say they are busier than ever.
But most of all I love the warmth and family feel of these gatherings. Like it or not, work is a huge part of our lives. The people we work with become our family. And when one of our members leaves us to embrace a new, exciting chapter in their life, we celebrate with them.
This week’s #HappyAct is to attend a retirement or honour the work contributions of a special colleague. And to all my friends who have made the leap into retirement or are making the leap this year, I am so happy for you. Enjoy, and don’t look back!
When our kids were young, we had a wonderful neighbour named Mark Berry.
Mark was in his 60’s and lived on his own on our lake. His family was in Toronto, so he adopted us and we adopted him. Our dogs became best friends and we’d often have Mark over for a beer or dinner.
Every time Mark came for dinner, he’d bring us presents, claiming it was an “unbirthday party”.
There’d be huge stuffed animals for the girls, something for the kitchen or a bottle of wine for me, and usually something fish-related for Dave. These were some of our favourite nights.
Last weekend, it was our turn to pay it forward and hold an unbirthday party for a group of friends we’ve been getting together with for almost 20 years.
Our official wine drinking team–the socks say “if you can read this, bring me a glass of wine”
We brought wine drinking team t-shirts and socks for the girls, water bottles for the kids, funny beer koozies for the boys and a few other gifts for the real birthday boy who happened to be celebrating that weekend. I think everyone appreciated their gifts.
The best gift is having this wonderful group of friends who we’ve shared so many memories with in our lives.
This week’s #HappyAct is to plan an unbirthday party for a special group of people. May it bring many happy memories and returns.
Happy Act 