Easter Weekend

It’s Easter Weekend. This is the time when even the C&E Christians do their second pilgrimage to the hallowed halls of higher learning.  It’s also the weekend here when the North Shore Round Up of AA takes place.  This year the round up is at the Vancouver Convention Centre.  

Before Covid when George, Vivian and Antonnio were still alive we’d have these wonderful reunions, lighting up when we saw each other, shaking hands and sharing embraces, our smiles so wide there was no room for face.  

George and I with our lady friends would begin the weekend with Friday night at the speaker meeting for AA.  Antonnio would connect with us then. Along with hundreds of others dozens of whom we called our close friends.  Vivian might be there or we’d connect with her on Saturday.  Being a priest she had so many duties with her church Easter Weekend it was a trial for her to slip out. Saturday meetings at the Round up and the dance that night, often after a dozen or so dined together was, always special.  I remember all these incredible story tellers from the round up, Dr. Bob’s son, and the nun whose vodka bottles clinked when she walked, the lawyer for the Hell’s Angels, all these wonderfully funny inspirational folk who brought us together in the evening.  

Sunday morning though George and I would meet at Christ Church Cathedral  early to get in ,as with each passing year the overflow increased. George, a jazz pianist and physician, would ,like me enjoy the incredible choir and organ at Christ Church.  Easter was the time the Brass was added with horns and trumpets.  We’d burst with song and Hallelujah. Christ is Risen.  We’d love Peter’s sermons and talk of them later over brunch. Often we’d be able to make the spiritual speaker at the Round up after church if we slipped out after sharing communion.  

We’d say hello to Antonnio, Barb, Andrea, Stephen , Vivian, Jackie.  Archie and Bill were always about.  So many people bursting with joy and celebration, clear eyes, where to stones had once been.  Scotty and Michelle, when Scotty was alive and still bursting with wisdom. I loved connecting with Lorne from the country, and others who came in often fo the annual gathering.  We’d lunch with Kevin and Anna before all their kids came along.   I loved most when the AA roundup  was held at the Hyatt with it’s chandeliered  ball room the weekend before EAster.  Then we’d be able to take in both  celebrations before it grew so big it moved to the convention centre.

Then Covid leaked and the lockdowns followed. .  I ‘m still isolating a bit. Each month I’m doing more , coming out more, socializing but still rather content to be alone . I’ve sailed solo so many years that I’m rather content with my hermit friend Laura and the crazy dog.  Our work is very intense and social so weekends I like to be alone in nature though as spiritual meetings works as well as the forest to still the soul.  I have a friend in Jesus.  I sing Hallelujah.  I pray and meditate.  I’m not going to St. Mark’s with John and studying Christian spirituality at Regent College anymore, so many evenings so many years, of meetings and classes after work. We all so loved the Christian dinners together when John was alive and James Houston’s wife was a live and Helen was back from her missionary work in the Sudan.  

As a child with my mom and dad and brother and often with my Aunt Sally visiting we’d go as a family to church, the ladies wearing white gloves and Easter hats.  I’d go on to be an intellectual, doctor, and study multiple religions, always striving to know God and self, the two entwined.  I was awarded a masters in Christian theology and comparative religions to go with the many other pieces of paper on the wall beside the MD , Psychiatry and Addiction medicine degrees.  Each year at this time I’d be as I am today surprised at the time.  We’re here again.  We are blessed to be alive another year.  Another year to contemplate the sacrifice of Jesus ,the deepest meaning of his parables and the beatitudes. 

This year I’ve bought a new motorcycle while Jesus was dying on the cross. It’s wind therapy and moving meditation.  Jesus Christ is an experience not an idea.  I don’t care to argue any more with aetheist prosyletizers or others who would contain God.  I loved Phillips book « your God is too small » . 

 Willie, the Christian psychiatrist would say that Jesus said ‘do not be afraid’ more than once.  He encouraged reading the Bible daily and every time I do I learn more from the living word. Phillip another Christian psychiatrist would say Christ is the celebration of life. Jesus also said ‘where two or more are gathered together , there too am I’.  He also came as a stranger.  Tom and I sailing or driving the back woulds in the truck would contemplate the song ‘were you there when they crucified my lord’.  « I was probably holding the spear’, Tom would say. I recently watched the performance on uTube of   the Thief by Third Day .  I took Laura to hear them when they played in Langley. It was truly a miraculous communion for all there .  The night air when we left was somehow more alive.  

Easter is a time of reflection, celebration and thanksgiving.  Thank you Jesus. Thank you Christ. Thank you Holy Spirit. Thank you God.  

Alright ,I am happy older

Normally I’m searching for an excuse to be negative.  Dr. Paul O said he could find a problem with a blank wall and if you didn’t see the problem it was an even bigger problem.  Dr. Philip Ney, the brilliant pro life psychiatrist and blue water sailor said, “There’s only one choice a man makes when he gets older, whether to be a bitter old man or not.  Bitter old men are common as weeds.”
Well, I’m happy.  Thank you for all the birthday wishes. Dr. Gary Horvath and the DocSide crew gave me a cake yesterday because I was wasn’t going to be there today.  It really was sweet and I am very glad they didn’t sing Happy Birthday.  It’s all kind of embarrassing when you get older.  My sister in law Adell and the nephews Alan, Andrew and Graeme called me saying they had bought  two tickets to the U2 concert coming to Vancouver.  “Take binoculars,” Adell said , “The best seats sold out fast."
I have been more than annoyed by the Facebook politics but today it really was wonderful.  All the birthday wishes from all over Canada, even Alaska, Australian and Saipan.  I really like that we ‘check’ in and take count. I felt like I was on this life boat earth doing this lifetime and everyone was calling out names like we did in Kindergarten on trips.  The trips back then were only down the hall to the washroom.  Now we travel the globe and some people are actually getting to be the first tourists on the next moon shot.  If I live long enough maybe it will be me or someone I know.  I have to admit there’s been many a time when I’ve been dealing the Borg bureaucracy I’ve wanted to say “Beam me up, Scotty.”
Earlier this week I had ‘sole food’ at  Chez Michel’s with my good friend George before attending a meeting of good cheer.  Misery loves company and were it not for the willingness of all those who come together to share experience, strength and  hope I’d not be as hopeful today.  Whenever  I wear the purple scarf Anna knit for me I remember with joy her and Kevin and the God kids, little Bea, Alex and Izack.
Looking back I can’t imagine how blessed I’ve been. The adventures have been incredible and this thing called medicine is something precious. I have also been spoiled by the incredible brains and beauty of the women I have known even the ones who’ve long forgotten me and those who said they hated me.  Maybe the latter were the most passionate.  It’s all more and more a blur with the resentments falling alway like leaves and more and more the past simply populated by a truly remarkable cast of extraordinarily gifted characters.  I’ve even been privileged like Sherlock Holmes to have enemies the likes of Moriarty.  Perhaps more sordid but certainly as villanous.
Now Laura and I have driven down to Bellingham in the new white Ford truck,  gift to myself, with the greatest little dog Gilbert. It’s been a truly great day.   Really, a blessed day.  I’m thankful to be alive  and feeling rather guilty because  there were times when was younger I would have welcomed death. I love the expression “Don’t stop till the miracle happens”.  In the 60’s we just said , “Keep on trucking” and now I guess that’s what I’m doing.
Here I am.  I  really am happy to have another day above the grass.  Only the good die young.  I know the very best have gone that I’ve known and I survive if only for a little darkness I carry inside. I worry about becoming too saintly.  The history of Christian saints especially most of Jesus’ closest apostles isn’t inviting to the cowardly.
Dr. Willi Gutowski, the great Christian psychiatrist , was quite famous for saying, “ Jesus said, “Do not be afraid!  It wasn’t a suggestion.   It was a command.”   Willie and Anita, intrepid missionary doctor and nurse.  are the two of the happiest of couples today.  I also look forward to seeing Sam soon as he’s a mensch if ever there was one. I have been  blessed by so many chicken or lamb dinners, rich in conversation, with John and his fine sons.  There really is so much to look forward too wealthy in friendship as I have been.
Now I have this uptown problem. I have to order room service before the Hotel Bellweather Restaurant closes.  There’s a steak with my name on it.   I’m also  going to have to choose a movie we can watch while Laura and I eat and Gilbert begs and gets treats.  What a rough life this is:)
Thank you all for all the wonderful birthday wishes.  Thank you God for all your blessings.  Maybe tomorrow I’ll be grumpy again but today I will celebrate with praise and thanksgiving.  

Thank you all for Happy Birthday Wishes

Thank you all who have wished me happy birthday. It’s raining heavy. Gilbert woke me early wanting to pee. He just had his birthday too.
We walked in the woods after that. My back hurt. It was wet. I liked the smell of the fresh wet morning forest air. I liked that the snow was gone. It was warm enough but wet.  Gilbert peed on every single branch, every single branch.
He’s napping now. He came in and ate dry food.  Lots of happy dog chomping noises. I had to throw the ball a bit.  Odd that tennis players play with these yellow dog balls.  I’ve meditated and prayed.  But God did not levitate me. No shining light appeared. No bearded guy walked into my head in white robes. The Rapture didnt take me. 't just got a little quieter. I prayed.
I don’t exercise enough or pray enough or walk the dog enough.  It’s a good start to a new year.  I’m about to have my second coffee. I had a nap till a friend woke me.  They were flying back from Toronto. Waiting in the airport, thought of me.  How kind.
I don’t feel like doing much.  Other years on birthdays I’ve driven to Seattle, taken a weekend at the Harrison Hot springs, gone up to Whistler, but despite taking a day off, all I’ve done this weekend is minor errands.  I’ve bought myself a new watch and gone to church.  I’ve hung out with Gilbert.
We’re living in a dog house.  It’s been a month since my friend, (I simply can't call her a cleaning lady since she's smarter, wiser, more accomplished than me, but comes over and cleans up my place because I remind her of her brother and she's doing a lot of jobs so she doesn't have to get back into the 9-5 institutions),  came by to tidy and clean.
For a week or two after that it’s a human dwelling then Gilbert ascends and I devolve.  There’s even socks on the kitchen floor, dirty dishes in the sink. Some male slobs live here.  No bad smells or mould or slime but there’s a general messiness. My place  looks like an adolescent’s bed room especially the floor.
I would not invite someone over.  The empty Ray and Gerry ice cream carton the dog has beside his bed probably should go in the garbage soon.   I’ve been good at taking that out daily, since the dumpster is next to where I park my car.
There are books everywhere. The Post American World by Fareed Zakaria is almost finished.  Shackled Continent by Robert Guest is down on the floor. Coffee with Isaac Newton has a book mark in it. I've not started Dudley Popes Galleon. St Petersberg Eyewitness Travel - I've read the history and browsed all the tourist sites.  Dr. Phillip Ney's essay Why Kingsdom Rise, Why Kingdoms Fall: History Makes Sense of All.  They're all on the shelf behind the couch in easy reach.  I sometimes lie here reading them or read bits between commercials.  If I don't read between the commercials I get up and go to the fridge.  There should be a class action suit against commercials by the obese of America.
The Canadian Book of Common Prayer, I read the morning prayer yesterday, remembered when I read it religiously, had been a while, comforting and uplifting., Eyewitness Travels Russia, I've read the history and sights, Russian for dummies. I'm not making much headway with that. Different alphabets get me.  Like the Hebrew I studied last year.  (Why can't everyone just use the alphabet we have, 10 thousand years ago, really, the ancients were so arbitrary and contrary, we really need to get a time machine to get their languages in line with my limitations.) Falling Upwards by Richard Rohr - it hasn't been opened but I read his contemplations daily on the internet.
For Sinners Only, The Book of the Oxford Groups, A.J, Russel, I got a chapter into that and distracted, must get back to it.  Really good history of the early 12 step origins.  I've got more books in the bed. I've been reading Nigel Tranters Scottish Grey series a page or two at a time before I fall asleep.
I've got a couple of dvds lying near me on this table.  I notice that I watched Nebraska last night and will probably get to  Adventurer tonight. I've had the Pussycat Dolls work out series on the table for a couple of weeks and it's still in the cellophane.  How about that.  I thought scantily dressed young women would trick me into working out in front of the tv but so far I'm too sophisticated for that.
I also have a Tai Chi dvd which I thought I'd use to remind me of the patterns  I once knew so well, but that's not out of the cellophane either.  The couch and refrigerator have been well used in contrast.  There's three channel changers on the table, one for cable, one for the VHS and one for netflix.  I have a little amp beside me the couch and had the guitar going again.
It's all a mess. Every surface is covered.  Lots of external hard drives around this macbook air.  Tetrabeyondgigs and megabytes proportion little packages and I remember when an external hard drive was the size of the computer and carried very little memory.
I’m always reading several books at a time and I've got some science texts and novels on the go on the Kindle.  There’s never enough space.   I need a clutter blackhole from the future which would suck everything up into a tiny space and hold it between uses, then spew it out in tact when I needed it.
I have had this sense of limitation these last few years.  I feel like for the first time I see the horizon of heaven or hell. I believe it's heaven but then I know bad guys think they're going to hell and that's okay with them. They wouldn't want to go to heaven. I want to go to Mark Twain or CS Lewis's idea of heaven.   I have been journeying this way all my life but now I see the future like a mountain on a vast plain.  There’s a destination called death out there and I’m considering it more. Things like bucket lists mean something to me.
I’m more intolerant of the stupid and pompous and smug which is my latest excuse for lack of patience. That said I’m rarely as rude as I was when I was younger and I was passionate about time. Now I feel this too shall pass. Ironically I bought a new watch for my birthday present to myself.
Relationships have become so much more important for me.  I was so alone for a while and now I’ve opened up to really enjoying those around me and their individual lives.  I”m more content and less driven.
Thoughts of revenge pass through my mind since I have nothing to lose like never before. Yet I don’t care to waste the time on such silliness. I value my time differently.
The past seems sometimes like yesterday and sometimes like another life away.  The journey is good though. All of it. Mostly I’ve gained some compassion for myself and others who rule.  No one is safe from death.
Old age is up there somewhere and I’m considering it differently too.  Bithdays are times for reflection as much as celebration. I celebrate this life. I’m thankful for spirituality. I’m thankful for learning. I’m thankful for all the love.
Thank you.
PS: I’ve concluded TESTOSTERONE is Scalping Me though. .
 I just swam 20 lengths in the pool.  Crawl and backstroke are much more aggressive than breast stroke.  Loved the jacuzzi. The jacuzzi is my friend.

Netflix TV

I've just watched the first season of Jericho on Netflix tv. I've been sick so I've had time lying about and enjoyed immensely the ability to program my entertainment with this brilliant series.  No commercials.  Easy download. I love Netflix.  Cheap at $8 a month.  I've loved tv series I bought in DVD but the cost of $40 or more a season was relatively prohibitive.  That said, Sons of Anarchy was well worth the price when we got it at Sturges North and watched it in the RV rainy nights after a Harley run.
When I first got Netflix a few years back the selection of movies was limitted and I only watched a couple before dropping out.   I've seen a lot of movies over the years being somewhat of a movie buff.  Tuesday 1/2 price movie at the theatre was a regular event some years.  Now it's only the movie that's a must see big screen event like the recent Men in Black that gets me out to the theatre. Some movies are cultural events and seeing them early in the first week at the theatre allowed one to be able to talk about them. Woody Allen films were like that a few years back.  Then there's Kidman's Australia which really needs a truly big screen to appreciate it.  Australia is that big a country.  Otherwise we like to stay at home with the dog and watch DVD.
I'd watched an episode of Jericho on tv and never watched it again. The commercials disrupted the 'flow'.  However, watching the series over a week has been like reading a great book .  The characterization, the sub plots and sub stories have all been so alive this way.  I realized too that commercials have caused television story telling to have to be 'dumbed down'.  Jericho has alot more happening than alot of the mainstream tv. Ironically lack of commercials can kill a tv series but equally commercials can kill a great tv show.
Thanks to netflix I'm reviewing tv series I've not 'caught on' too because without the commercials complex character stories like Jericho are really extremely intriguing. The fast pace thriller aspect is maintained without the interruption too.
I'm hoping that tv series and movie series find a better way to 'make money' to make the money they deserve.  The acting and writing of these has never been better.  Other venues seems to have sorted this out.  I don't mind paying the monthly rent for this sort of quality. I imagine however all manner of things that could of gone the 'commercial' route like 'educational lectures' at Univeristy interrupted every 5 to 10 minutes by a jingo.  Maybe with the health care crisis surgery can interrupted for a 'word from the sponsor'.  I recently had the experience of a video commercial board over a urinal and thought while I missed the opportunity for my own thoughts I preferred commercial in the washroom to commercials in my livingroom.
Just as Frank Lloyd Wright asked that architecture consider the environment it was in  an ahead of his time ecological consideration,  high quality marketting really needs to get on board with better ways of selling without abusing the potential 'customer' the way commercial disruptions of entertainment have.
Netflix  is a  great antidote.
I don't have much time in my schedule for tv or movies as is.  I suspect though I watch at least a couple of hours a day of some sort of entertainment making me one of those roughly 20 hour a week sorts.  Perhaps that's a lot by some standards, less by others.  Whenever I'm sick though or recovering from an injury or overworked tv series and movies are a favourite distraction and entertainment.
Thanks to Netflix though I can better program the content - indeed I could watch more 'discovery' channel easily if I was so enclined. Frankly I do watch a lot of history and science material but nothing beats a good tv series for 'comfort food enjoyment'.  Jericho did that like Friends and Tudors did it, like some of the HBO mini series have too.
Probably having watched so much Jericho this last week I'm a little post apocalyptic and more attentive to the BBC news about world terrorism.  Certainly Sons of Anarchy didn't affect my desire to do crime, if anything it made me more against it, but it did affect my desire to ride my Harley.  Just seeing the bikes on the open road was invigorating. "Friends" always takes me back to medical school days,  nostalgia of student friendships that is always enjoyable. I appreciate the friends I have today more as a result of the relationships depicted in the Friends series and in Seinfeld too.
Netflix lets me choose the tv I want to view.  I confess, if I'm eating alone at home, I prefer to watch tv , a half hour, rather than watching a movie which can have me infront of the screen for an hour and a half limitting the available choices for the evening after that.
I like that it's on my laptop too.  My Mac Air is just fine for viewing.  The Apple cube and tv seemed over priced and didn't have what Netflix has in comparison.

Dinner at Athenes

As usual the lamb was delicious.  We discussed the seminal work of Ferenzi, the new atypicals contribution to mood therapy, the effect of premature ejaculation on women, and the success of his family. He'd just attended a performance of the National Ballet. His friend Karen Kain had introduced him to Emily Molnar.  "I really am enjoying what she is doing for Ballet BC," I said.  We moved on to talk Of Mice and Men, the play he'd enjoyed performed at the Stanley.
We talked of motorcycles some. and the True Grit remake. "I've always loved westerns," he said.  Not surprising given his love of horses.  I told him about my cowboy uncle.  Together we laughed at the New Yorker cover of Steven Jobs. We both heard his remarkable speech 6 years before when he'd thought he had the cancer beaten.
Discussing lapses of memory I told him.,  "I couldn't remember my past lives at all." I suspected he didn't remember when he'd been ruller of the universe either.
As I was leaving I told him that people would think all we'd talked about was women and sports.  And in a way, I guess, we did.

Wes Hazlitt

It was great seeing Wes Hazlitt again.  We've known each other since school days.  Today I visitted his lovely home past the University of Manitoba. I drove by my brother Ron's old home on King Drive.   Wes has two dogs and it was clear that they were barkingly delighted to have an excuse to prove they really were great guard dogs.  After greetings all round the  two dogs remained our companions as we caught up on mere decades sitting in his back yard enjoying the Winnipeg sun..  Just like yesterday. I remember Wes so much from high school.  I was doing gymnastics with the YMCA.  Keith Carter, Colin Lount and Kirk Laidlaw were all on Don McQuaigs YMCA gym team.  When I'd show Wes what I'd been practicing for months, with his herculean upper body strength, Wes would do the stunt effortlessly first try.   We were in Vincent Massey student politics as well. His indefatigable good cheer and great sense of humor was ever present. Nothing has changed except neither of us found the time this visit to do gymnastic stunts.
Next I remember seeing Wes  when he'd  opened the Marriage Store on Pembina ahead of the curve. Wes always had an uncanny sense for business. It was only later he'd got into banking. . With Fort Gary friends it seems years have gone by and I  have a few  snapshot of these rich and full lives.   I met his son Scott.  A big full grown married  man.  I'd been sitting with Wes slipping back into believing we were teen agers when this Hazlitt clone suddenly appeared with another dog.  Genetics are uncanny.  My dog Gilbert would have loved to have been here.  Then,  Gail, Wes' wife,  his great love and companion appeared.  Wes the individual exploded into Wes the family.  I know there's this whole extended Hazlitt family with the brother I knew from days gone by. Then there are his countless friends and associates.  It was wonderful to see Gail too.    A part of me was kicking myself for always  being so distant.   Mostly I'm really thankful that Wes and I connected again, after "Wes Wisdom" and sharing on Facebook we were back face to face.  The laughter was so good.  Thanks Wes!    

Television Reviews from a Sick Body and Mind

I don't tend to watch much tv.  However when I have the flu or am ill it's a godsend.  This winter and early spring, thanks to overwhelming work  stress ,environmental stress, karma, divine retribution, a big nose that attracts bugs,forgetting a flu shot, smoking as a young man, tsunamis, earthquakes and tyrannical governments in the middle east, I've been bedridden with Upper Respiratory Infections off and on.  As a result I'm now an authority on television series.  They're all incredibly good.  There's only so much reading one can do with headache, back ache, fever and running nose.  The tv is a saniety saver.  I actually watched a bonanza and a matlock episode and realized, it's always been.  Commercials have got better over the years. The mute button on the remote is technological wizardry.
Now to the shows themselves.
NCIS is great.  I love all the characters.  Can't remember their names. The ex Mossad agent is just so hot.  The goth chemist is darling. The computer geek is so believable. The playboy is endearing and the old doctor, duckie and his side kick are just wonderful.  This family has a silent mysterious father and he's just fine too.  There's bosses behind him but the team is really a great school grouping that makes all the intriguing scenarios that happen each week quite wonderful.
I like NCIS Miami too. Mostly because of the black guy and white guy military types but the best is the old lady. She's a great actress and it's a joy to see such wit and charm and age appreciated. The young pair are a delightful combination and this family with a smart mommy character works just great. Maybe the stories are even better. The odd girl in this one is the communication computer hacker as opposed to the chemistry chick from the other NCIS.
The UNIT is the best.  Laura and I watch this even when we're not sick.  It's the best combination of  military 007 Spike guy thing couple with army brat wives chick flick thing.  All the characters have depth and the plots are sensationa,
I love the Mentalist.  He's believable and his partner is gorgeous and bright and they make the kind of team that Dianna woman was part of in the early 70's. It's got that great boy girl working together with touch of romance thrown in. Great stories too.
The Closer is terrific. I like this cop team. She and her FBI boyfriend are a hoot. I love her female Colombo style.  I like the irreverent old cop and the smart chinese guy.  It's just a good cop show.
Chicago Code is real cop material.  Believable. Gets to the corruption. The regular cop and the head of the police fighting the corruption of city hall and the gangs on the street is thrilling. It's real like the Unit is real.Serious drama.
Burn Notice is slick. The guy is smart and it's got all the McGivor 007 and Diesel xxx smarts too it.  I like the commentary.  Love the killer ex girlfriend. The buddy is a good balance but the mother is a show stopper. Love that she was written in. Brings this whole thing home. We never did know 007's family.  I like the cozy home feel of this.
Pretty Little Liars is intense and twisted and smart camera. Everything that soap opera aspires to in the making. But too much information.  Everything is drama.
Insecurity the Canadian spy series is really funny.  Makes me proud to be Canadian when I see such good drama.
I love Stargate and Stargate Atlantis. I'm a big sci fi fan. This isn't star trek but it's the next best thing and I love it.  I like the doctor to and the wild man and wild woman and the blond leader is so believable and the guy leader is so believable and the bright guy is so believable and I just think I should have my own personal star gate. This is going on at Rockwell right now.  And the government isn't telling us about it.!
Criminal Minds is dependable. I like the team.  I like the leaders and I like the whole unit.  The smart guy is my favourite.  Good drama.
Law and Order is still as good as ever. It's been around for ever and it's always just good informative drama.
House - I don't tend to watch doctor tv much anymore.  I love the information on House. The stuff they're dealing with is usually really good medicine. They've obviously got some good consultants but I just can't accept the drama. Maybe in the US this goes on. But here all the doctors are required to be without personality and there is no drama allowed or someone complains and they're up on charges for being colorful.  When I started in medicine I learned from a few House like characters but they've been killed off and I mourn their passing.
In the wilderness doc series seemed too flakey. I've done the wilderness medicine stuff and the plot and scenarios were just too weak for me.
ER was a terrific doc series.  Michael Creighton consulted and it was at times just like it was in real life.  The police told me Barney Miller was fairly representative of alot of time in Canadian police activity.  The Hill and things like that in New York and LA just didn't seem to be relevant to Canadian police activity. Cold Squad was brilliant and better than Quincy.  But today given all the gang wars in Vancouver and meth labs blowing up down town maybe it's time for a new Vancouver cop series.
Nothing has come along to even come close to Seinfeld and Friends.
I dont' get the Discovery or History channel here.  BBC news beats out everyone else.  Manbridge is still good though.  I wonder if the girls felt about him the way the guys feel about the BBC news announcers. The main men and women on CNN seem flat in comparison to the Brits and Canadians.  More like corporate brands than real people.
I love the English and Australian drama but it's a bit low key for when I'm sick. The American pizzaz for making fast action and multiple cameras is best for the sick person.  I'd rather read a book but I dose alot.  Movies are too involved so these TV Series are really the best for sick people.  I found I like watching the two guys myth busting a blowing up something while at the dentist. Loved watching big fish catching with my nephew.  I think all round tv has got a whole lot better. That's not even with PBS and the HBO mini series.
That said, the general population is given a real skewed view of law enforcement, crime labs and such.  I think that's part of the propoganda of Big Brother is all powerful and watching you. It's really so much myth and entertainment. I can't imagine any crime except maybe the shooting of a senator or such that would get the millions of dollars of investigation time and resource each NCIS series would cost.  It's even more fanciful than Sherlock Holmes.  But great drama.
Criminal Minds is all this profiling stuff. It's fun psychodrama but it's utterfly far fetched. My field.  But it's better than Freud.  Lots of stereotypes and psych 101 but really.  Good drama though.
Mentalist is however in contrast believable in a real way. The "book of tells" is about those little things people give themselves away with. He's over the top but the stuff he's based on is well founded.  It draws on years of hypnosis research and is really valid. Irritating but it's what the circus carnies do their stuff with and why the best tarot card readers read you more than the cards.  I like it. I like the character too.  But mostly I like the girl.
So it's all about team playing. The girls, like Nikita, are the killers. So we're tv is long beyond the feminist  dichotomy - men are bad, women are good. There's a real balance of good and bad characters and a balance of believable female and male leaders . There's lots of black representation, some oriental and even some latin, some Russian, but not that much first nations.  It's a long way from vanilla for sure.
The other propaganda item is that the world is on the brink of disaster and every week there are dozens of terrorists the US is protecting everyone from.  This is probably going to end up like the War on Drugs, with all the Homeland security measures as much begetting terrorism as protecting us from it. It's got that feel. However the propaganda is there. Every series has a terrorist being caught about to blow up a city. The other thing to propagandize to the women , especially the silly girls, is that Big Brother is protecting you from a daily serial sexual predator. The pig farmer was the biggest news here in Vancouver. They're rare but watching tv land they're everywhere so that's major fear mongering.  Terrorists and serial sexual sadists behind every door. I preferred the good old commie scare. So I'm aware I'm being fed this constant message of good government in the end, the bad guys get caught but I haven't heard of any convictions over 911 or the recent banker regulation scam.  I appreciate the purpose of tv as opiate for the masses. When I'm sick I enjoy being anesthetized.  Somebody like dirty harry is out there fighting for me the little guy whose sick right now and couldn't defend myself from a wet noodle.  I like Bat man and Superman some days too.
I know the lie though. I still appreciate the propaganda.  I probably was benefitted from watching Bonanza and the goodness of the Cartwrights.  I wish there were more westerns.  There sure are alot of cop shows and Big Brother and stuff.  I like the guns and car chases.  That diner canadian comedy in Saskatchewan or the north somewhere is good but it doesn't have the guns and car chases you need when youre sick and dozing.
Right now I'm thankful for the tv.  I'm hoping to be well before I know all the names of all the characters.  Oh yea, Oprah really is good. Her talk show is the best. I fall asleep before the late night ones especially when I'm sick.  But after David Letterman there really isn't anyone out there.  I figure if I get a slice of David Letterman coupled with Fox news I've just about got the full spectrum of what's important in the news.
Glee is great too but the music has become American Idol made like the Monkeys since the earlier ones so it lost me.  I wish there was more godly and Christian programming.  I like the televangelism on Sunday but it loses me when it seems like the product is a used car.
The reality series suck for me. I'm a survivalist and all the stuff they do and the way they act is just not the world I know.  Too much phony adrenaline and testosterone with downright nastiness.  People in difficult times in my experience usually pull together a whole lot better than those prima donnas so I've just not got into them.  Apparently office workers with cutthroat office politics love the reality series.  Man and girl made
That said, television rocks.  There's so much really good tv out there. The commercials are a whole lot funnier too.  The motorcycles are awesome. The acting is terrific.  I'm just really thankful and really impressed.  The dancing is phenomenal.  Channel surfing the music series is always a buzz.  So much happening in so little time.  Great video.
Now I'd rather be outside doing stuff but if you have to be inside and if you're sick tv today is the best!

Transubstantiation and Transmutation

She said tonight she loved the eucharist.
"It's so very sensual," she said, eyes sparkling in the candle light. "I mean, kneeling there, the priest, placing the wafer, in your palm, saying, "This is my body shed for you", the actual body. It's the sacrifice being enacted all over again. 2000 years later and I'm there on my knees being fed the body and blood of the Lord. It's all I can think of. He gave his life for me. God cares that much."
"Bloody cannibalism," I said. The waiter brought more coffee.
"Well yes, I know what Joseph Campbell said and it's really the way Robert Graves might approach it but God is holy. I can't be holy by myself. I'm quite the animal if the truth be told. God enters me and changes me. It's all God's doing. I just take the host and He does the rest."
I knew she was experiencing the real thing. For her there weren't any of the intellectual barriers that confound the many. Her passion spoke of his Passion. Earlier her husband had said grace, thanking God Almighty whose 'greatest was in the very mystery of his being' which we can only ask to be in relationship with. I loved reading Phillips book, "Your God is too Small". It's arrogance that would have a pot believe it could know the potter. Yet it's the nature of man's mind and certainly mine to want to contain and control and classify. God is beyond all that. The medieval mystic spoke of the "Cloud of Unknowing."
I know what she says. In the bending my knee and taking my place in the wall of humanity I too am there with Christ at the Last Supper hearing him say that the bread and wine are his body and blood. The blood of the lamb sacrificed for you. The ultimate sacrifice. The servant king. God dying that I might live.
So yes for me, like her, the bread and wine are the physical body of Christ. They don't just contain the physical body and blood. They're not just spiritually the body and blood unless spiritually is beyond dualism. In Christ's death he joined the father and God is all. The bread and wine aren't just representative of the body and blood. They are. Of course they are. They're all this and much much more.
"I feel alive again when I've gone to Eucharist. Cleansed and whole and with my Lord as one," she said.
And I knew what she meant. But knew that on bad days I'm just going through the motions, living in the worries of finances and future, thinking of disease and dying, feeling alone and self important. I walk in the herd and participate but I"m not all there. My mind is elsewhere. I don't trust God to care for me in everything and always. I'm trying to think myself out of some latest of holes I've fallen into. I'm there in the church. There's incense and music and even laughter. It's just that as I'm kneeling and the priest is giving me the host I'm just eating bread. Later kneeling at my pew I'm praying and thinking of God but it's sometimes so half hearted.
I look across at her flushed high cheek bones, vibrant eyes and see she is alive with the Lord. Looking at her husband beside her I see his steady eyes calmly watching me. Beside me my dearest friend is comfortable too in her relationship with Christ.
And all I can think of is how I kill him and betray him and that on those days I'm really not all there I am all that Joseph Campbell says I am, a cannibal participating in the carnage of animalism. There is the source of shame and fear.
It's just a moment as the conversation has moved on to a rather risque tale of camels and sex and the French foreign legion. Everyone is laughing. I can only promise myself to pay attention again and again and again. It's in the moment. It's in practicing of the presence of the Lord. It's the mystery. I have to stop going through the motions. Life is far too precious to be wasted with lies and deceit. God is everything or God is nothing.
Turning to her husband, she asked ,"What is the term for it, is it transmutation?"
He laughed, "I think you mean, Transubstantiation, dear. You'd have to ask the doctor here about transmutation."
And earlier I'd answered her, using the word, "transmutation" meaning "transubstantiation". Now I had to wonder if it was just a slip of the tongue. Certainly Freud would have a lot to say about my 'slip' in the choice of a word that reflected alienation. I trusted though that Dr. Carl Jung, son of a minister, would be more understanding.







- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

VMC Reunion Pictures

My brother Ron took incredible pictures at the VMC reunion and sent around a disc of these. This is me with Jon and Susan Cowtan. I also just received the booklet of pictures in the mail. It's been another nostalgia blast all over again. Just love it. I'm now planning on quitting work and returning to Vincent Massey High School if only I convince all the folk I met again at reunion to do the same. I think we could have even more fun and probably reduce the stress by no longer being adolescents.

VMC 50th Reunion Dinner and Dance

I am making notes about the Vincent Massey Collegiate 50th Anniversary Reunion Gala Dinner and Dance at 2 30 a.m. At this moment, I feel this was the very best dance event in the world. I can't recall when I had such a spectacular time.

My feet however are just beginning to seize up. I've taken some aspirin hoping to prevent more swelling. In truth I may be in traction in the morning. All the dancing I did with all those wild women is going to cost me big time.

Right now I feel this spiritual whole loved-by-the-world, blood-gone-to parts-of-my-body-long-forgotten, muscles-moved, ligaments-stretched experience. It's good now but morning I suspect I could be taking an ambulance to the plane. I'll need a chiropractor, an acupuncturist and certainly a psychiatrist to answer whatever inspired me to dance all night and talk myself hoarse.

The organizers were prescient in their planning, issuing us all green wrist bracelets to be worn all weekend. The general public naturally thought we were on pass from hospitals, asylums or nursing homes saving the city from having to explain what 13, 000 crazy happy people were doing there.

The best for me was finding my older brother Ron. He'd been in the musical along with Sue Cowtan and hoards of the most talented folk at Vincent Massey. Despite that and carrying 500 pounds of camera he danced to the very end too. We left together. The band was clearing the stage. I'd hugged Jon Cowtan goodbye three times by then.

Colin and Derek Lount were very California Winnipeg and having way too much fun. Jon and Susan Cowtan danced like they really loved each other after all the years and kids and friends like me. Gilda and Lisa Berger really did cut up the rug. At the end of the night it was bare floor thanks to them.

Mary Buhr and her husband never stopped dancing. Mary was doing relatively 60's type dancing interspersed with ectstatic airborne moments. Boris Tyzek just looked like a grown up. Dancing he let loose like Travolta. He was having way too much fun but tried to conceal it wearing his suit to the bitter end. Everyone else was stripping and the young were helping some of the older ones back into their clothes. Alot of caring going on.

Ann Hughes danced like a pro. She had all the right moves. Gail Miller was a regular duracel bunny that never stopped. Darlene Milowski in a sexy long tight gown tried hard at first to be proper until she let loose. The girls were twisting down to the floor and flinging their arms to the sky.

Judy Blair danced like the cheer leader she once was. Disco meshed with rock and roll spiced with salsa and jive. Joan Marten actually made boogie look elegant. Her husband danced like a guy who just knew he was one of the luckiest of men. The Gosselin sisters, Sue and Sandra, were 'dancing queens'.

Brenda Brandt told me while dancing that she was a spiritual advisor. Just heavenly. Don Hurst danced like Travolta only taller. Jim and his wife laughed as much as danced. Dianne Anderson danced and smiled and smiled and danced. Karey Shin (Asselstine) did political art as dance.

I danced with them all. There were these big circle affairs of gorgeous women and handsome men. Then we'd break out in couples and mix it up with small groups and large groups. Near the end of the night everyone degenerated into a congo line.

Our class of 1970's tables were by far the best dancers. Collectively we were the very finest raconteurs as well. Ron tried to argue that the class of 1966 had had it's moments but I wouldn't hear of it. The class of 1970 was simply the most hip, slick and coolthere. Best dressed, most beautiful and very smart women, while the guys despite some padding were truly sparkling representatives of the human race.

Naturally there is some natural selection for these reunion events and those of our year locked up in institutions or working as terrorists overseas probably didn't hear about the event.

If aliens had landed tonight, world leaders would have directed them to us. We could have been ambassadors for the planet. This 1970's perfection seemed to spread to the tables of the other years too. Whenever I wasn't mesmerized by the shining company I was in, I looked up and found generally the same thing was happening to everyone else. Every one was having a blast. The night was an all time sensational success.

Gary Enns was dancing with Brenda MacLeannan who was just one of the many amazing organizers. They made this reunion rock. Paul E. Sveinson was the Reunion chair. Rob Coglan, Brenda MacLennan, Derek Hay, and Val Moore were the Dinner Dance Co chairs.

Rick Martin, the present VMC principal spoke while we all chowed down to a most delicious dinner at the Winnipeg Convention Centre. He didn't strike terror or sound like Solomon as our principal Zotolov had. In fact he seemed like a nice 'young man'.

Meanwhile I felt like I was 17 all over again. I literally wondered if some old LSD residue was leaking back from the 60's . Or maybe I was truly immortal and surrounded by goddesses. I danced like I was resurrected. It's going to be a different thing in the morning. I'm thinking maybe a Cox 2 inhibitor.

Who would have guessed Colin Lount would become an architect. He was a gymnast. Judy was a cheer leader. How could she be a lawyer. Gail amazed me telling me she was with SETA . I tried to follow her government job description all over the world until I figured it was obvious she was a female 007.

Jim was beside me at the table talking about IT. He had kids and they didn't need baby sitters. How did all these people have children older than we all were when we were at Vincent Massey. Gary's kids were having kids of their own. This whole thing was spreading out of control.

The Ron Paley band was great, too. But I'd been to a John Mayer concert and hadn't even danced in the aisle. Gilda had me "almost" dancing on tables again. I'd sworn off dancing on tables a decade ago, was attending a 12 step program for people who dance on tables. Meanwhile Mary was doing the flying nun bit.

What a time.

The best time.

Thanks everyone. Vincent Massey Collegiate is the best.

In the morning I'm going to hate you all though. I already hurt.

Vincent Massey Collegiate 50th Reunion

I flew into Winnipeg to take the first winds and waves of nostalgia at the Airport. My father had come to Winnipeg in 1956 to build the airport conveyor system bringing my mother, brother and I along with him. I was 4 at the time. Seeing the machinery reminded me of Dad. Thinking of Dad reminded me of Mom. The last time I was in Winnipeg was for her death. I still see her cheering the kids on the hockey team and remember the words she wrote in the Fort Garry Lance about community events.

It's just beginning to rain and the skies are grey but that doesn't mar the perfection of the city. It's a beautiful city. The skies go on forever and the green of the grass and foliage is a very precious green. The rivers are old and serene. The air is alive with scent peculiar to Winnipeg. The taxi takes me to Pembina. We drive by the old school. I'm almost drowning in memories by the time I get to the Pembina by the Red Best Western hotel.

I walked back to the school meeting Gary Ens coming out. He's just bought a Harley Sportster. We talk bikes. We're standing outside Vincent Massey Collegiate entrance talking about motorcycles and I've been in just this place countless times before talking bicycles, cars, girls and sports. There's something timeless about Gary and this moment.

Seeing the pool behind the police station I tell Gary "We used to climb over the walls at 3 in the morning in the summer and swim there till the police chased us out, "

"Carl Hedlin couldn't figure out how his parents caught him. It just might have had something to do with his putting a ladder up to his bedroom window on the second floor."

Gary and I walked through the library sharing tales of work and family. Seeing the school library again, I remembered the Leonard Cohen and Raymond Souster poetry books I'd found there. Later someone would reminisce fondly about Carey Asselstine and I'd remember the school poetry book we compiled.

Further on I saw the place where the guy hit me with brass knuckles when I was defending the woman teacher. I put him down but he'd opened my cheek and there was a lot of blood when the police arrived. I wonder what happened to him. Just like I've always wondered what happened to David White.

"Remember Hoag and the foot ball teams?" I asked Gary.

"Sure do. Last week I found a caricature I drew of him back then." Gary told me how he'd gone on to do architectural drafting. I told him about our starting the pole vaulting to get Hoag off our case. Those were the days of murder ball and rumbles after school dances.

Gary's three children have grown and he's a grandfather. My registration kit is out on the football field somewhere. The organizers who are amazing have arranged a football game between Vincent Massey and Tec Voc. I remember playing volleyball but mostly now I'm thinking of starting the men's cheer leading squad. Later I hear about OJ's accident. A musical has been going on in the school and we pass the guys and girls in costume. I remember playing a lead in a school play. It was all so new back then. There've been so many stages and television studios since then. Not to mention the operating theatre and court rooms.

A hurricane plane has been arranged for a fly over. It's pretty incredible. I've got tears welling up in my eyes when I hear the choir. They're singing the country's anthem. I remember Dan Donahue singing with the choir in my year. We sang "To dream the impossible dream." The Guess Who played at the school dance. Lenny Berreau played jazz down the street.

The girls I meet all look so young and beautiful. I know we're old. Their eyes haven't changed though. A gorgeous young thing tells me about a hip replacement and I can only think about how hot she's always been. There's Bubbs and Porteus. I text Kirk that I've just seen Lynne Day. Dianne Anderson has had kids and she and her husband have travelled all over the world. They're riding motorcycles now. The brilliant Berger sisters light up the room. They were always so incredibly smart.

Gary and I have been to Johnnies for incomparable burgers. It's the drive through the north end that takes me to another time. I 'm remember the days I spent with the Manitoba Theatre School, dancing with the ballet, wondering how I ever got waylaid into medicine. Some of us are laughing about the expulsions and suspensions. It's great to see Sue Gossen again. It's hard to believe she's a lawyer. It all began in the liberal 60's and yet here we are in a new millennium conservative with age. Sues' adopted a daughter whose now a teen ager. Joan Marten hasn't changed a bit. Her smile is more radiant. She was gangly in Gr. 10 and now she's Vogue and More. Don Hurst is still amazing. I look at him and still admire his goodness and soundness. Yet he's retiring. Has the time passed so fast. In my books he should have been in parliament. He's a born leader.

The mingler has Beatles music playing. I want to flee. Help, I need someone. I don't know how to talk to these people. It's a nightmare holding it together. The music is too loud and I can't hear half of what people are saying. The booze is flowing and we're in the Wildwood Club. It's down the street from my childhood home. We played badminton here. There's wall to wall conversations and memories are filling all the corners all the way up to the ceiling. I need another diet coke.

Meeting Mary Buhr is special. We sat together in elementary and she was always the brightest and best of us. She's become a Dean somewhere. Never was a university more fortunate.

One moment I'm talking to a person my age and next they've morphed back to when I last remember them. I'm an old man discussing scars with Dirks who I remember as the boy my mother always thought so well of. One minute I'm a teen ager and next I'm an old man.

It reminds me of when I'd go home to my parents and suddenly I'd be a kid again. They'd be calling me 'Billy' and I'd be responding like I'd not seen all the death and disease and insaniety I'd seen for decades upon decades.

It was all of that and then some. But mostly it was hugs and smiles. I'm intoxicated on all the human warmth. I heard Sue Cowtan and Boris Tyzek were there. Names of old friends and acquaintenances ran through the group like wild fire. Old friends are celebrities.

I'd not recognize a person looking at their face but then bending to see the name tag in the dim light I'd suddenly realize why they were smiling so intently at me. We'd embrace and I'd feel guilty I didn't recognize them right off. Then we'd talk of marriages, divorces and moves and careers.

At last I was standing apart. I felt all alone. I felt like I did at the first sock hop I organized. I was scared for a split second. Adolescence is all about fitting in. I've been to too many countries and sailed across too much ocean to fit anywhere anymore, travelled too many roads and cart tracks. I think I envy the people who stayed. There's safety in the known. I know this world and yet I don't. It's all nostalgia. Bittersweet yet fragrant.

Kirk Laidlaw, Lenore Clemens and Lynne Miller all text me saying they wish they were here. I wish we were all here too. I know some are already gone. There will be even fewer with passing years. I'm glad I came.

"Principal Zotolov is still around."

"That's great," I say, thinking the man must be immortal.

Gary and I talk about God. We're both attending church. Later I lose him in the crowd. I walk alone across the fields of Viscount Alexander and Vincent Massey schools the way Kirk and I did all those decades back. I'm just thinking. Like I did as a teen ager. Thinking about nothing. Thinking about everything. What is and what could have been.

Happy New Year 2010

We've made it another year. Physically survival is too often underestimated. Emotionally we take so much for granted. Intellectually we underestimate the sheer magnitude of this mysterious miracle of life. I want to remember what was great about last year.

It started with me thoroughly enjoying the winter locum in the Trail Hospital, the fine doctors, staff and delightful people I had the priviledge of working with there. How magnificently beautiful and diverse British Columbia is.

Then my own practice survived the business failures of 2009, as the macrocosm of the world reeled, in the microcosm of my office, frank incompetence in business and accounting mismanagement reigned. New owners on the building would not renew the collective leases and staff desertion after the grossest of errors had me working 7 days a week 12 hours aday just to keep a practice open, all the while looking for new offices and new staff.

It would have been even darker were it not for the understanding of patients and referring family physicians, lawyers and their staff. Friends like Laura and Colin stepped in to help. Lo and behold I found a new office in China Town and amazingly with the help of Tracy and Mark the move occurred. I was exhausted but equally amazed. New business administration and accounting began to bring order to the self centered bedlam I'd earlier not attended to struggling with all the immediate demands for patients who overnight lost so much as provincial authorities focused their budgets and attention elsewhere. The sick are rarely a priority. And those who care for the sickest are stigmatized as they are.

Yet here I was in church praying and at home on my knees praying, going to meetings, and finding that truly in times of travail our relationship with God becomes central. Talking with my father, brother and sister in law was inspiring. Friends , colleagues and ministers were all so supportive. Soul food with George was never more appreciated.

And spring came. Out of the darkness and cold, came light and warmth. My sailboat went up on the hard at Mosquito Creek. To fulfill the surveyor's insurance recommendations the hull underwent ultrasound assessment with two areas of weakness found. After the real bloody work of preparation was done Barry the welder came with his magic wand and healed Giri's broken mast and added two new plates to the hull. An ancient evil septic tank was exorcised, water tank leak repaired,and quite amazingly Tom put Humpty together again.

The boat wasn't ready for summer sailing but the weather was perfect for motorcycling and camping. Laura and I had our usual terrific jaunts to the country. We got out together on the Christmas Toy Run and Motorcycle Ride for Dad as well. I did the Oyster Run down in Washington with Donny. The AA round up on Salt Spring Island was the best with Bill and Brian. IDAA conference in San Antonnio, the Alamo and riding a Harley to Corpus Christi were all highlights of the summer.

Then it was deer hunting season and a series of trades with a little out put of money that had me, sans a scooter and a couple of rifles but with a new 30:30 rifle and a 230 Honda enduro.

Laura was with me when I shot a deer. The barbecued tenderloins were so delicious. She enjoyed her days camping, reading, sunbathing in Princeton while I rode all over the back country shooting every can and the bagging the occasional partridge. 4x4ing the Harrison Lake area where fire had struck was an unforgettable drive through dead truck alley.

Then winter was on us and somehow the practice continued with less chaos as Mark's experience grew, Scotia Bank at Granville continued supportive, the taxman fattened, and generally I was again able to focus on learning medicine, amazed at the advances in the knowledge of addiction, brain injury and human sexuality.

I enjoyed very much being asked to teach a course on spirituality in mental health and addiction settings. Several of my articles were also published by the Medical Post. I loved the Canadian Author's Association monthly meetings and especially enjoyed our writer's circle readings and criticism. I continued in the Blue Water Cruising Association and joined the Harley Owner's Group.

I was a reader at Christ Church Cathedra until my move to the north shore caused me to attend St. James Anglican Church more often, mostly because of their later service. In retrospect, practicality has often had a major role to play in my church attendance. I used to attend St. John's Anglican Shaughnassey Sunday night service because I wasn't back from sailing for morning mass. Then I attended Wednesday night West Coast Biker's Church until they moved further out of the city. I was attending Rainbow Community Church evening service in the West End till they moved East Vancouver and hopefully this year I'll get back to them and the Biker church.

I attended the West End Pride Parade, made it out to several charity functions, including Shout, Turning Point and Loving Spoonful. I was divinely dressed for the annual Emperor and Empress charity fundraiser and continued to support Avalon Women's Centre which does great work for women with addictions.

Strathcona Men's AA meeting and the other AA meetings I attend have all made my life fuller with the inspiration, the fellowship and service involved. Cyberdocs on the internet and the email friendships I continue there with others around the world, and blogging, have all added a special richness to my life.

My nephew Andrew's visit with his friend Kyle awakened me to the fact I was probably aging. Their staying out all night partying and liking it seemed a truly alien concept to me yet I believe I may well have been like that when I was in my 20's. I really have grown to love going to bed early, early morning rising and generally G.O.D. – good, orderly, direction. I fear I'm getting set in my ways. My cat, Angel, certainly is.

Now when I think back on the year I really didn't believe my health or sanity would survive the spring. All I thought of for weeks was leaving medicine and working as a shoe salesman. I never wanted to have to trust another person in business or work the extra hours and devote the time and energy involved in making work for others. I never wanted to talk to another contemptuous government agent or beg on behalf of another patient for services that had been promised. I wanted to get on my motorcycle and ride off into the sunset leaving everything and everyone.

Yet I didn't and it all got better. The sun rises after the darkest part of the night. I felt the same about my boat. So much cost and so much work and so much uncertainty. I would have sold it but there wasn't any market for a holy sailboat with a broken mast. I worried it was a metaphor for my life too. But then that was fixed.

And here I am today moored in Salt Spring Marina listening to the wind blowing in the rigging, white caps in the harbor, glad I chose to stay another day before returning to Vancouver. I almost left this morning, lifting the outboard from the dinghy and locking it at the stern, then putting the dinghy on the deck. VHF weather 3 said there'd 20 to 35 knot SE winds in the Strait of Georgia, if I left then I'd go through Active Pass on the turn, and yet. The autopilot isn't working. We were mucking with the hydraulic steering, the water cooling system has a leak, it's winter and cold, I've just put on the hydrovane again and haven't tested it. There's simply no rush. Tomorrow the low will have passed. 15 knot winds predicted from the south. I have the boat all stowed. I'll pay for another day. It's New Year's day. Relax already.

Looking back it was a series of challenges like any year. Each seems at first insurmountable and then somehow whatever that was falls behind and something else takes it's place. All a series of highs and lows like the weather. Sailing, is a great metaphor for life. It's a long haul. Motorcycling is just a metaphor for the short haul.

To paraphrase Mark Twain, most of the deaths and disasters I've know have been in my mind.

2010 is a new year. Last year we had President Obama and Prime Minister Harper. Bin Laden is still out there somewhere and for that we have more and more Security. The Cold War was lost to the the War on Drugs which has now lost to the War on Terrorism. What next? The real estate money crisis, the war in Iraq and Afghanistan, threats of new air borne virus while HIV is increasingly treatable, global warming and planetary pollution, the space station and color is back in fashion. Any year above the ground is a good year. This was a particularly good year.

2010 will be a good year too. The 2010 Winter Olympics are happening right here in February in Vancouver and Whistler. Vincent Massey is having its Winnipeg high school reunion this spring. There's always Sturgis in the summer for motorcyclists to dream about. IDAA is meeting in Buffalo this August and AA is having it's big convention in San Antonnio. I might even make it out to a Blue Water Cruising Association rally.

Mostly I'll be thankful if I'm alive, well, uninjured and will pray the Jabez prayer indeed. I think my Dad is terrific when he tells me in his 90's that he's heading for 100. I hope he makes it.

To all those who are friends, I do wish you a wonderful year of joy and peace. To those who consider me your enemy I wish you well and hope that I am more forgiving. I am very thankful to my teachers and mentors.

This 2010,I really do want to be a better person, a good friend, a fine doctor, a responsible citizen, a talented writer, a safe rider, a competent sailor, a straighter shooter, a caring family member, a good pet owner, considerate of my household plants and all round closer to God.