Who are the Dutch?

There's Holland, the Netherlands and the Dutch, how does that all fit together?

To investigate, last Friday night, I attended the Baltimore County incarnation of the Pennsylvania Dutch Market, the experience left me with no clues to solve the puzzle, however the overall experience was life changing.

In an effort to educate those unfamiliar, I would like to impart a number of suggestions, should you think of dropping in. Don't say I didn't inform you.


Suggestion 1:

Avoid the furniture. Not that it's shabby, it all looks solid and imposing but don't get distracted, it's not the 20 lb magazine rack or the purple Adirondack chair  that you are there for, it's the unending series of kiosks featuring delectable treats. Stay Focused.

Suggestion 2:

Don't skip the peanut stand. One step into the building and the fragrance of hot roasted peanuts is everywhere, it's entrapment. Now if you think you are going to pass over  the peanuts all together, think again, your stopping in on the way out, guaranteed.

Suggestion 3:

Focus on the beards. Hair doesn't grow like that. Think of the grooming ritual. Think of the time commitment.  Marvel at the shaggy precision. The haircuts might be easy, any bowl could do, but the beards, that's style.

Suggestion 4:

Consider how your life may have changed if you had married an Amish girl. They have a alluring balance of "at your beacon call" sweetness and a razor sharp edge that does not allow for any opportunity to interject a suggestion as to how to choose your drumstick. I left feeling simultaneously amused, aroused and afraid for my life.

Suggestion 5:

If this is your second visit, it is exactly the same as your first, there is nothing more to see and there never will be, and yet, all you ever want to do is return. It's as if they pump an addictive scent through the HVAC system that sticks to your clothing only to re-emerge the following Friday when the market reopens, and you say to yourself, let's go back, I wonder what's new? Don't fight it.

Suggestion 6:

I fear this isn't Dutch at all, but a German enclave using the Dutch name to disarm any obvious grievance, a brilliant play of words. Amish? Can't be sure of that either, no one will say, research required.

So here's to the Dutch, the Hollandaise, the Amish, the Pennsylvania Protestants or the German Interlopers; whatever subculture I have stumbled upon. I love it. More bourbon bites please.

American Pie

In the words of Mackenzie Rice, "there are no gains on the stair mill." I rediscovered this fundamental truth last night at the conclusion of my workout. I decided to eschew my normal cool down exercise, which has me circling the gym looking for a good place to plank, before giving up and heading to the steam room ... and instead, I hopped on the climber.

Once at the top of the machine, I smashed the quick start button, toggled to level 10 and started trudging. Then I remembered! The first step hurt, there would be more to follow. I quickly translated my allotted time for the activity to 6 songs on my playlist. I can do this! My mind began to wander.

My recollection was of my rowing career. I sat in a boat and pulled my guts out for 4 years in high school - I'm not sure to what end. We spent 6 months weight lifting and running for the glory of 2 months of rowing from one side of the canal to the other. I realize I have an affinity for relatively mindless repetitive tasks, but this tested even my superior abilities in this regard. For the first three years I would row from 4 pm to 6 pm every spring evening; near collapsing from exhaustion, I would plunge my fist into the canal and take a sip of the clear, refreshing water in an attempt to revive myself. This was a ritual of mine right up until my final year of high school when in the midst of a conversation with the father of one of my friends, who, when I told him of my after school routine, countered with "yeah I work at a steel mill on the canal, let me give you tip kid, don't drink that water!"

Three songs down and three to go, my legs were just about ready to give out. There is very little kinship among workout enthusiasts. I took a peek around and noticed a veritable sea of people stepping, running, cycling, sliding; all wearing their own headsets and all very focused on the Fox News channel in front of them. In what could very well be a quintessential social act, there is no comradeship, no support, no smiles; every person for themselves. However in this instance, I caught the eye of the young woman beside me whose demeanor conveyed one obvious thought as she looked in my direction, "I don't think that guy's going to make it."

Still one doesn't spend 4 years at something without getting a little better. After a string of last place finishes the Centennial High School Rowing Team's 4 man crew began to gel. For those of you that may not be aware the strongest man in the foursome typically rows at the bow - I rowed at the other end. But don't let this fool you, I had an important role, I rowed stroke, which means that I set the pace for the group. everyone followed my stroke rate, if I let the rate fall, we would be in trouble. In a sport where strength and skills dominates, I had neither, but I was consistent. In the final event of my career the vaunted Henley regatta, we somehow made it through the qualifying round and the semi final and to the amazement of our coach we reached the starting gate of the final for the men's 4. I remember it well, I looked to my left and there were 4 men from Hamilton who looked like they crushed granite in their spare time, then I peeked to the port side and noticed 4 athletes from Vancouver, all six feet 4 with arms that stretched out to the shore and back. I then leaned back at my ragamuffin squad for a pep talk, "Boy's, we ain't going to win this race, but I say we go all out for the first 200 meters and give our coach on the sidelines the thrill of a lifetime," we reached the 200 meter mark in first place, and at the conclusion of the 2000 meter race they sent out a search party to ensure we were still in the lake ... be there in a few minutes.

I have a talent for timing. I hit the sixteen minute mark and the fifth song on my playlist was just wrapping up. Beneath me was a puddle, I was hoping it was sweat. The young woman who had been stepping at the same rate as me still had a lilt in her step and a concerned look on her face. I was less stepping at this point and more slouching over the stairs, hanging on for dear life with my hands gripping the rails to prevent me from completely falling off the machine. But it ain't about grace - in the words of Rocky Balboa, winning is going the distance. So as I took a deep breathe I thought back to my rowing days, I had gone out fast and hung on to the end. One more song, you've got this...

A long long time ago
I can still remember how
That music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while

But February made me shiver
With every paper I'd deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn't take one more step

I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
Something touched me deep inside
The day the music died

So

Bye, bye Miss American Pie

8 more minutes .... the cruelest twist of fate.

The missing years...

I had forgotten, I used to blog. And write novels. But about 3 years ago, I lost my way. It began when I became a "serious" writer, typing scholarly articles for academic journals, then I perpetuated the misery by churning out a book chapter. Neither were all that fun to write.

Come to think of it, I didn't used to write, I used to type. Just bang on the keys and watch what would come out, APA and Oxford Commas be damned. I have no idea what combination of keystrokes led to my old blogger page jumping to the front of my monitor this afternoon, but here it is and I'm typing once more.

My last entry was 2015. A few things have happened in the interim.

My country of residence (not my country of citizenship, let's be clear) has lost its mind. I think. Or maybe I've lost my mind. Or we have both lost our minds - yep I'm pretty sure that's it. I remember when I was growing up in Canada in the 70's I never felt as though the United States was much different than Canada. Just bigger with more TV channels. But somewhere along the way it hitched itself to some kind of Ayn Rand fairy tail and now its politics are incomprehensible. Looking back I blame Michael J Fox, a Canadian no less. MJF played Alex Keaton on the show Family Ties, he was a lovely young gentleman who played a Nixon loving, conservative sycophant. I think he made it seem cool. People ... he was kidding!Alas.

I know I am old because I absolutely cringe at reboots of movies and TV shows. Can't anyone find another vehicle for a screenplay, like, say, one of my three novels ... #I'mnotbitter. While the world swooned over Gal Gadot as the new Wonder Woman, my heart remained true to Lynda Carter, who, by the way, I understand, lives in Maryland and is a huge Capitals Fan (thank you for the insight my dear friend Twitter). BUT, that said, I'd like to throw my full support behind the new Mary Poppins adaptation. The intersection of Mary Poppins and Emily Blunt is the greatest natural combination since peanut butter and bananas. As for that husband of hers trying to play Jack Ryan, No, Just No.

Lastly, my children grew up and left me. I'm not handling it well. I walk around our townhouse like a lost puppy trying to find them. No Dice. What I miss most is that for 22 years they were my excuse to not do something else. Oh no, "I can't possibly go to that function this evening, I have to drop Mackenzie off at the golf course (I'd join her of course) and Malcolm needs help with his Math Homework (he didn't)." Now my excuses - "Oh I couldn't possibly I'm far too busy", have a frightening lack of sincerity. But I understand they will be returning for Christmas, so to all my friends and colleagues, I gotta get home.

What's it like...

Abraham Lincoln invented Twitter on November 19th 1863. That day in Gettysburg, President Lincoln followed up an epic speech given by a noted orator, with a 5 minute micro-blog so perfectly crafted that there was no need to say anymore. Similarly, the seductive challenge to create the perfect tweet has recently consumed me, so as I look back at my recent blogging history, I realize I have shot blanks for the majority of 2015. The essay has died.

It's not that I've been idle or haven't come across new experiences to share. I am coming up on my second year anniversary of my residency in the United States. I have resisted the temptation to share my idle thoughts about the experience mostly because it's been a lot to process. Before arriving to Baltimore in January 2014, the U.S. wasn't new to me. I had travelled extensively around the country but I've learned that it is unproductive to make judgments about a place when you only see it on vacation. I can say that I have travelled to Fiji and Malaysia but to be honest, I simply visited the Hilton and the Marriott on those occasions; conclusions would be difficult from a hotel window - impressions would be as close as I could come.

But my two year employment in Baltimore has taught me a lot. Most of what I have learned has taken place on the light rail, on the buses and in conversations with a diverse cross section of Americana. And I've travelled! My Southwest account is full and my bag tag collection boasts an impressive list of destinations (Boston, Portland, Knoxville, San Francisco, San Diego, Houston, Atlanta, Milwaukee, Chicago, Greenville, Denver, Sarasota.... and that's only the start!). My conclusion is that I can't wait to learn more, see more and meet more people. This is the third country that I have called home in the past 6 years - that alone cultivates an openness to experience and culture. It's difficult not to compare experiences but the real trick is not to; don't look away, see the whole field and drill down to values; as the systems and politics are a result of deeply held convictions (with a hint of theatre). I know that I will always bring my inner Canadian to the perspective and in that context I often get asked.... what's it like to live in the U.S.?


Here's what I've learned so far:


Americans can plan a party. Events are big and austerity be damned. Volunteers are everywhere. There is no structure too big to create. Understated isn't a thing. And you will never be welcomed in a more authentic way than at an American gathering, southern hospitality is alive and well. Wow.


So you think you work hard? Americans work very hard. Long hours aren't even considered. It's an early to rise, late to bed, just try to keep up day - everyday. Innovation thrives through hard work and Americans have the uncanny ability to re-invent themselves economically, almost on a dime. Sorrow happens (often self inflicted), grieving lasts a day and we move on. I've never been to a place where the people are so resilient. They don't whine. They get angry, push, shove and get back to work.


This is my first time being confronted with America's racial divide. In the past two years I've been exposed to an African American Culture from a perspective I never had before. This is not my first time outside - I've been around many people of color in many countries and I enjoy learning about new cultures and belief systems. African American culture, from my perspective, seems to be in an unrecognized period of resurgence, perhaps having begun as early as the mid 1980's corresponding to new archetypes in the Arts within the Black community. It has been a quiet revolution and one in which African American culture is growing and celebrating itself. I've had the pleasure of meeting many intelligent young black men; DJ's, scientists and poets, who have educated me on their experience. I witness every day on the bus the "inside jokes" Black people share and the heartfelt commitment to their families. It is a culture. However it seems to me that White America fails to recognize that "White" is also a culture; instead they seem to feel that their experiences from Country Music to the baby blue eyed images of Santa are simply "the norm" therefore African American culture is aberrant, something to be feared and managed. This lack of self awareness is the tragedy of the nation. I have seen first hand fantastic examples of cultures that recognize their differences and take an interest in each other's unique perspective, even within the same nation. People tell me that America is "too big" and that my observations from places like New Zealand where White and Maori cultures synergize are inappropriate to be used as a model. I disagree. I believe that there is a process towards reconciliation; but it is White America's inability to recognize their own culture that prevents the proper apologies and reparations. Maybe to do so would be to deny American Exceptionalism - and perhaps that is the real place to start.


The America I experience daily has a wonderful heart and a tremendous rhythm. It's a soulful place made up of super music and too much tempting food. The people I have met in this country I count very quickly among my best friends. The infrastructure can occasionally seem precarious but everyone rallies to overcome the deficits. There's ownership. It's theirs. The Libertarian in me sees a country with the same enormous capacity for good as all others. Many Americans feel that the road to social justice is Activism - which in this country is generally associated with a minority group creating a momentary imbalance of power or consciousness to affect change. Americans will point to evidence that this process has led to movements in thinking and new policies. But with each passing day the country continues to get more unequal, more segregated and unhappier. Social change ebbs and flows but the underlying fundamentals are never addressed, the hard questions are never answered and the revolution never holds up. I have no solutions to offer.


America seems to me to be the America you choose to look at - so many faces and regions that blend into a pattern that looks like liberty; attempts justice and aspires to freedom. Whatever it is, I am grateful for it, hope to continue to discover it's mysteries and I wish it well.

The Tyranny of Measurement

"Dr. Bayes, thank you so much for coming and on such short notice"

"My Pleasure Chi, it's always a pleasure to come down to the Zoo and assist the staff, how can I help you today?"

"Well Dr. Bayes it seems that there is an unanswered question about the most recent acquisition to our collection,"

"Hmm..., sounds interesting Chi, tell me more"

"You see I have just returned from a procurement trip to India and next week we will be exhibiting our first Bengal Tiger, I believe it to be one of the most magnificent creatures we have ever housed at the Zoo. Our marketing department would like to create a campaign advertising 'The Beautiful Bengal Tiger', but I suppose what we really need your help with is in determining, if the Tiger is, in fact, Beautiful?"

"Of course, Chi, I completely understand your dilemma, and I'm glad you had me out to take a look, where may I locate this Tiger? Is that it sunning itself on the grassy, savannah landscape you have provided?"

"Correct, Dr. Bayes, you spotted it right away"

"Yes, well you see Chi, I am a trained expert at analysis. The first thing we need to do is anesthetize the animal so that we can take some measurements. With this tranquilizer, I have rendered the object completely lifeless. Now I will take some routine measurements; the distance between the eyes, the proportions of it's facial features, the precise shine of the coat, the mathematical patterns of it's striped design and by plugging those numbers into a rubric I have developed to assess beauty in a wide number of dimensions across the animal kingdom, we should be able to get some preliminary information"

"Wonderful, Dr. Bayes, it is nice of you to help us"

"Right, but you see Chi this is where a number of investigations might end, but I intend to give you a more complete diagnosis. You'll see now that I am slicing open the belly of the creature to do an analysis on all of the internal organs, kidneys, lungs, liver, the works. Most investigators are superficial in their process, but we all know that beauty is more than skin deep, in order to truly understand the object in front of us we need to determine the extent to which it's internal mechanics determine it's external features - such as beauty. Now I am draining all of the body fluids from the creature, so that I can measure it's volume and determine if the composition of the blood affects the appearance - it always does,"

"Dr. Bayes, I am thankful that you have devoted your considerable talents to this field. Where would we be without you?"

"Chi, the nice thing is that because of the processes I have developed I can give you an immediate answer, it's just coming up on the screen now and .... Yes! I can assure you that this Bengal Tiger, is indeed beautiful 19 times our of 20 at a confidence interval of 85%"

"Wonderful, that certainly backs up my hypothesis"

"And Chi, I might remind you that this analysis is only valid for this single object, if in the future you wish to determine whether other Bengal tigers are beautiful, a similar set of tests will have to be run under the same conditions,"

"Of Course, Dr. Bayes, we will call you straight away. Just one further question - What should we do with the tiger's corpse?"

"Ah, sorry Chi, you've got me there - not my department I'm afraid"

The Presidential Nine

Eight hour car ride from Baltimore, Maryland to Gatlinburg, Tennessee and somehow the conversation turned to U.S. Presidents. No, it's not what you think; nothing about politics, social policies or foreign affairs. It was the irreverent "Rice Family" treatment.

Hence, I give you the hotly debated starting lineup for the Presidential Baseball Club, courtesy of the Rice's. Do other families engage in these quirky diversions....


Starting Lineup

1. Andrew Jackson CF
Speedy lead off hitter with limited power but on base all day long. Cool Name. The guy is clutch, we call him "Money".

2. Barack Obama 1B
Slick fielding first baseman. Super hitter, always on base. Most popular guy on the team.

3. George Washington 3B
A stud. Team leader, perennial gold-glover and offensive dynamo.

4. William Taft DH
Slowest guy in the league, but man can he hit bombs.

5. Ronald Reagan RF
No surprise we'd find him in right. Bonus baby with big potential who talks a great game.

6. Teddy Roosevelt LF
Under-rated. We named the park after him but our Manager took the credit.

7. Richard Nixon C
All catch, no hit backstop. Wears the tools of ignorance well.

8. John F. Kennedy SS
His father got him on the team so we had to give him the best position.

9. Dwight Eisenhower 2B
All heart. He finally made a baseball team after getting cut at West Point.

SP. Abraham Lincoln
Bulldog. No quit in him, big game pitcher.

RP. Lyndon Johnson
We never have to go to the bullpen often but when we do, why not hand the ball to a 6'4" sociopath with unclear motives.

PH. Gerald Ford
Only comes off the bench, never a starter.

MGR. Franklin D. Roosevelt
Master Strategist noted for inspirational speeches,though truthfully, the team doesn't listen well.

Other Notables:

G.H.W. Bush - came in like he owned the place but we had to cut him for our sanity

Bill Clinton - overslept and missed the tryouts, comes to all the socials though

G.W. Bush - couldn't pick up the signals

Woodrow Wilson - Scorekeeper

Jimmy Carter - Concessions

Thomas Jefferson - too smart to be a ballplayer

The Long Con

In preparation for parenting, I played out a few scenarios in my head before having to experience them in the fullness of time. I am still waiting for the call from the local constabulary to pick up one of my offspring from temporary confinement. I've got a great line for that occasion... and I know that Mom has no witty comeback prepared - so I dearly hope that my number is first on their speed dial...I stand ready.

One of those moments which requires forethought is the first evening when your son or daughter brings home their report card. How should one react? Should you make a big deal of the event or brush it off as insignificant? Over a decade of such reports coming home I have chosen a consistent path; I only look at one item on the report and I give praise and encouragement based on that single number which typically appears towards the top the document. Days Absent.

In a world where 90% of your success is determined by "showing up"; I remark on their progress in this key metric. "Mackenzie, I see that there are 10 absences on this terms report".... "Yes, well you see father I had cholera for a week and was asked by my school to spend 5 days in Bora Bora swimming with the dolphins"..."Sorry kid, I don't care, 10 days away is 10 days away... we are what we do repeatedly, better luck next term" ... My nonsensical approach to school reports has become a tradition in our house much like pumpkin pie at Halloween or filling out an NCAA bracket in the first week in March; there is comfort in continuity.

But for me it also serves a more symbolic purpose; your ability to attend and persist is far more important than your score on a few arbitrary assessments. A's are fascist and C's likely mean you were challenged but either way they are not worthy of loosing your cheese over.

The assessment dance was reprised just last week with my son coming home sheepishly with a report full of A's and B's and more importantly only 2 Days Absent!; Yet he declared that his friends who had snuck a peek at his report card worried about what might happen to him when he got home, as his first term, grade 11, B's were going to limit him from attending University. For a moment, I sensed that Malcolm may have felt that my obsession with attendance at the exclusion of all other indices may have been shortsighted. I had to assure him that it was not.

Even a cursory analysis of the shrinking global demographic trends leads to the logical assumption that the million square feet of post secondary real estate in Baltimore is more likely to be a barren wasteland in the near future and colleges will have to become creative marketeers in order to keep classes full. In the world of supply and demand today's students should be asking for free haircuts every Thursday in their enrolment contracts and if you can't get it at Morgan State there will be someone at Johns Hopkins with an enrolment quota to fill and a sharp pair of shears at the ready.

Yet this obvious fact appears lost on all those that perpetuate the misery that education has become for so many adolescents. We herd these teenagers like early morning cattle, exposing them to a creativity sucking curricula and an archaically inflexible schedule and we wonder why they act strange. All the while we perpetuate the myth that college life will elude their grasp if they do not participate and if they fail they can expect a life of loneliness, searching for answers, wondering what might have been. Believe me it will be there, if indeed - you want it.

The collusive conspiracy that is education is boggling. It involves parents, teachers, administrators and from what I can gather.... planet earth. The result is a treadmill to nowhere that has left adolescents broken, disillusioned and defeated by age 17, instead of strong, confident and invincible. But hey it was good enough for my generation so it's good enough for you...

I am convinced that there is a day of reckoning coming for higher education when Gen Y parents (an overall sensible and thoughtful group) don't let their children play this harmful and divisive game. You can develop skills anywhere / anytime so the con will be exposed, it's only a matter of time. But I have to hand it to the Danny Ocean like confidence man that hatched the conspiracy and launched a kazillion dollar industry. The size of the sector makes education too big to fail and it's associated myth that the only way to gain competency is through the privilege of spending every Tuesday afternoon with a grey haired Calculus teacher is flawed but difficult to shake. Still, disruptive innovation is coming and if it can happen to the music industry higher education is not immune. Open Universities, and alternate pathways to accredited studies are on the way. Have faith.

But beyond that, I would simply like the world to re-frame the entire issue of adolescence. From age 12 to 24, there is a tremendous opportunity to tap into the worlds greatest unused source of humanistic exuberance. Put it to use! Under-estimate it at your peril! Stop playing this ridiculous con game that calls for mid semester grades and mandatory logarithms. You are exploiting human frailty to fill your coffers or raise your ego. And while you can fool most of the people most of the time, their is a new wave of wonderful young men and women; in fact they are the best collection of generational talent I have ever seen, and they are about to call your bluff. So for those of you who perpetuate the current education paradigm, wake up to the new enlightenment, cut your losses and stand aside, cuz that house of cards you've been hiding in at night, it's coming down.

The Friendly Skies

If you take the scenic route long enough you are bound to run across your fair share of airports. As a public service I shall review a few of the ones that have left an impression on me in my travels. It's not a top 10 or a "good,bad,ugly" it just is. Enjoy?

• Kuala Lumpur - Real good, swanky clean and efficient. Great food and shops, though souvenirs cost 100 times more at the terminal than in the city. By far the best place to get a cheesy elephant statuette (sorry Malcolm). Would be #1 on my list if they actually placed the airport in Kuala Lumpur or in Malaysia for the matter. The 1 hour (plus++) no rules taxi ride to the city must be taken with your eyes closed, just trust me.

• San Francisco - Likely the best in North America, super clean and everything works! Wifi, baggage handling, you name it, it all happens. Nice place to hang for a layover which I intended to do about a year ago when I arrived with the family from Sydney, unfortunately we were re-routed to Los Angeles ... good old LAX, which is the complete opposite to SFO in every way. Try customs at LAX sometime after a 14 hour flight from Sydney and I dare you not to cry.

• Dallas - I like the cowboy hats (worn by all the info booth helpers and such), I like the big Texas feel and it's the only place where a person can order brisket at an airport and be optimistic. You hardly realize how unusual Dallas is when you judge it by the airport. The same goes for Portland, officially the weirdest place on earth, the airport is downright normal, in fact last time I almost bought a tiny little Oregon duck stuffed animal...almost. San Diego is the reverse, super city, below average airport with the most ridiculous system for rental car procurement, it's so close to downtown that you almost feel as though you are landing on an aircraft carrier in the bay, which actually - would be pretty cool.

• Atlanta - You can find this airport on both best of and worst of lists, for me it wins me over with the rental car monorail, I'm a huge fan. The signage is nails and I have a suspicion it was designed by the same mob that built the Tampa airport, an altogether underrated place, with a handy rental car area and a superb monorail to the terminal, Tampa also has a perfect collection of shops that I have used as last minute "get out of jail free cards" on my way back to the family after an extended absence ;)

• Toronto - Look, I'm a patriotic guy and every time I get to Toronto I feel Canadian, everything is overpriced and over-regulated...Ah, I'm home! But the three terminals (beautiful as they are; are no where near each other and I always go the wrong one! And if they ever host the Olympics in Toronto they should set the marathon at Terminal 3 - what I'm saying is ... it's a hike...and a half. While I am talking about Canada my friends and family will be waiting for me to "pay out" Vancouver,  my least favorite city in the northern or southern hemisphere, but you know what, it's pretty good, very organized (Canadian), the odd native painting (Canadian) and everything there almost works (Canadian), Alas. Vancouver used to have a program whereby they charged travelers $20 to leave the city, to wit I once replied to the attendant; are you kidding me I would have paid $100!

• Detroit - there is a PGA superstore there, which almost makes up for everything else. And speaking of dreary I don't recommend the post apocalyptic landscape around the Denver airport to anyone but I would literally make a connection in Denver just for a taste of the sirloin steak at Elway's restaurant.

• Sydney - Sydney is great in theory but nothing actually works there. The duty free area is outstanding but super intrusive if you were in a hurry. Australians cannot operate a line, god love them, so things like customs and baggage claim have no operational sensibility. It all works well when there are no people but it's as if the operators get surprised every day when the folks arrive. Most of the other airports in Australia are glorified bus stations. Same can be said about a connection from Montana, sorry people - I take comfort in a glass and steel monolith, flying out of a lodge just doesn't inspire confidence.

Happy Trails

Really

My son has been damaged by a recent documentary about the rock band "Rush" detailing their Southern Ontario roots from the 1970's. It was an hour of mullets and heavy glam rock that left the poor boy shaking from head to toe. The styles, the music, the ambiguous sexuality of it all was too much to take. When he woke up the next morning he asked me how anyone from the era could have seen this as interesting, desirable or in any way sensible.

I smiled. Though I reminded him that maybe, just maybe he would look back 40 years from now with similar disdain for the current cultural and fashion trends. Then he uttered the most innocent and misguided proclamation - Tell me one thing from my generation that I will look back on with shame?

My dear child!

• Tattoos - the only socially acceptable reason for having a tattoo involves warfare or some similar bonding experience that compels one to place the insignia of their platoon or honored group on their left arm. A 20 inch depiction of a spider growing out of ones buttocks just because it looks cool, makes you only one thing - a victim to fashion

• Flat top baseball hats (pictured) - It is a look that is pretty difficult to pull off, the best at it is Ricky Fowler and he looks ridiculous. Gas station "snap backs" that say HORNY on the front will never come back in style - trust me

• Over-sized sun glasses - ladies, it's just not working. Not sure what look you're going for here but I am here to inform you that you look like a gigantic bullfrog eyeing up a tse tse fly. I imagine that they must look different in the mirror and through some strange optical illusion you believe you look normal, news for you, you don't

• Yoga Pants - They are leggings people, not pants, other than a few athlete type, they're not for you - this is a public service announcement intended for the 1 million women currently running errands around the city of Vancouver wearing lulu gear

• #loser#pretentious#getalife#enoughalready#stopit#thisisridiculous#whatthehellareyoutryingtosay#Idon'tunderstand#hash#tag#hashtag

• Falsies - no not those, I'm talking about empty eye-glass frames - a word to those 20 something year old athletes that wear them; how about I rock a pair of non supportive crutches because I want to be cool like a 40 year old ex athlete that hobbles around life without the use of their ACLs

• Twilight -the novel, the sequel, the movies - "vampires" Transylvania meets Pennsylvania, that's a thing? - what were you thinking

• Home ownership - if some can convince me that home ownership makes any sense whatsoever in today's market, please enlighten me. It worked for the baby boomers when they retired with household incomes worth 5 times their initial mortgages but if you think that your going to purchase that $400,000 dream home because you'll be pulling in a cool $2 million a year when the calendar hits 2035, you've been hoodwinked, duped, run amok, bamboozled, swindled, ....., #trustme.

Yes, and...

1. When the jaywalking hall of fame is built, I propose that it be constructed in Baltimore somewhere in the the middle of a busy intersection.

2. My favorite baseball team is in first place and the world seems brighter. Yes, that is as sad as it sounds.

3. I am forcing my son to grow tomatoes in our backyard, who am I?

4. The Canadian consulate in Canberra, Australia just sent a message to all Canadian residents alerting them to the location of poutine in the city #thatreallyhappenned

5. As a resident, Australian political discourse is sublime, as an outsider looking in, ridiculous. The latest scheme is to try to tax dead students. You can't make this stuff up!

6. Baltimore is extremely green, its summer soundtrack is set to the hum of a lawnmower.

7. Four months in Baltimore without cable or satellite TV and dodgy wifi; I feel like we're living on Bonanza.

8. One day we were looking for a 5 bedroom 3 bathroom house to buy, the next we signed a lease on a two bedroom condo. Sorry Mackenz - the guest room is a closet.

9. I caught myself singing a Bob Dylan song in the shower morning, where do I go from here... (see #3).

10. What! Pountine will not spell check in America!, it better work on my scrabble edition or else - us Canadian's have burned down the Capital building before you know...

Calling

A bit of a dandy. That's what they would have said about young "Anigo" as I he pranced around his Spanish castle, festooned in mock armor, polishing his aristocratic sword and yearning for the battle that would transform him from a young boy into an honored soldier. Soon, even the name became too colloquial and he would adopt the moniker "Ignatius", as when you are the youngest of 13 siblings you'll do anything to stand out. Picture a cocky young Chris Pine in the movie version. "Hello ladies...."

Thirty years in the making his soldiering days came to an ignominious end as his leg caught the wrong end of a cannonball. Broken in three places, he was confined to bed-rest to recoup, a career in ruins. recuperating in his family's palace, not so young Ignatius would have been unbearable to attend to. "Fetch this, Fetch that, Got anything to read..."

According to his loving sister whose task it was to care for him, the only book written  in Spanish at the entire Loyola homestead was a volume entitled "Jesus of Nazareth"... hehehehe... I bet she was lying. But with only one novel to read and months of bed rest ahead, Ignatius became captivated by the main character of the text. Jesus, the ultimate peaceful warrior who would expose himself to the world and while bleeding to death on a cross only ask forgiveness for his persecutors. Frosty.

Soon Ignatius would rise with his life's mission changed from fighter to street preacher. The next step was to attend University studying the great works and scripture. "What did you say, I need to know Latin, you're kidding right." Apparently not. Now the scene changes from drama to farce as a Spanish nobleman pretends to be a 15 year old Grammar student in an attempt to pass the entrance exam. The guy has spirit. The University of Paris takes notice.

It was in Paris that Ignatius became the leader he was meant to be, and along with a handful of idealistic comrades they form the "Society of Jesus". They begin counselling each other, graduate to fellow students and soon hit the streets chatting to anyone in need of help. Their flock expands. Soon the self proclaimed, Society of Jesus, adds seminaries where young people can study scripture, these informal gatherings become what would be known today as schools. Afterwards the Jesuits were being called to take all manner of children into their seminaries and found a multitude of schools. Ignatius visits the Pope to see if it was all right to do so, "Sure boys, just don't get into any kind of trouble..." was the reply.

Today the small society begun at the University of Paris in 1534 and officially formed in 1540 upon the Pope's blessing, has been responsible for starting schools in dozens of countries with 28 college and universities in the United States alone. In many ways the foundations of the modern school system was brought to mankind by the Jesuits. A fantastic legacy.

If there is a moral to this story it has likely escaped my mind, but I am struck with how often in history a person develops skills in one area, but then changes course simply by listening to what they are being called to do. It is a voice we should listen to more frequently. No?

A cold day in March

I met him 16 years ago. He was in a huge hurry that night - moving way too fast for his own good. I waited by his side as he rested and gained control of his breathing. As he settled in for the night I made my way home for a quick sleep. I knew we would catch up again the next morning.

The clock in my car put the time well into the wee hours of the morning. I drove to the first stop light on my way home. The roads were abandoned. Was it supposed to be this cold in March? Positively freezing if you ask me! Perhaps I'm just not used to sitting in my car at 3 am in the morning... The light turned green but I did not move. In fact, I put my car into park. I just sat at the light. Moments flew past, I could not drive. I kept thinking about the new friend I had made - hoped that I'd be worthy of his friendship. Three or four green lights went past before I put the car back into gear and headed home. I drove slowly.

The next morning I introduced Mackenzie to my new friend and she fell in love. It is a reaction that I would come to appreciate as the years flew past. His is the singular ability to charm. Over the years, at various points in time he has reminded me of friends and relatives, but he always grows past the stereotypes. His own man.

A few years ago, I had the occasion to travel with him to New Zealand. My how he had grown. Tall, lanky and a fast climber with grace that could only be interrupted by approaching puddles. How did you not see that! For the most part it was a great trip full of laughter and good spirit but it wasn't without its challenges. And when there are troubles you want your best friends beside you. He was there.

It has been a privilege to watch him grow over the past decade and a half. He has only averaged 4 inches a year, but the cumulative effect has been startling. Those who know me realize that my friendship comes with a cost; I am so profoundly drawn to change that those closest to me must always be ready for a new adventure. But like a true friend he has risen every time to meet my needs and exceed my expectations.

Today officially marks the longest period of time that the two of us have been apart since that chilly day in March 16 years ago. As I forge forward, I have left him behind to clean up in my wake, responsible for all that I hold dear.

A few more weeks and we'll be together again; laughing and scratching the way we always do. I'm looking forward to catching up again, my friend. It's been a positively frigid March down here, the coldest I can remember in 16 years - but the sun will shine strong again soon. Oh - and the picture, that's the first place we're heading.

Happy Birthday