Category Archives: Writing
Life’s Like That
A story based on fact and reflection by B. B. Wright
I’ve heard that bad things come in groups of three. To me that was nothing more than a bunch of malarkey. Sure, I accepted the adage that life is ‘what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.’ But, neatly packed up and delivered in threes? Now, that’s stretching the imagination. At least, that’s what I thought until the week of my wedding.
It all started on a Tuesday morning about five years ago. I was trimming my beard and moustache and rehearsing my replies to an imaginary interview that would play out for real later that morning at the executive office of the Sun newspaper in Toronto when the phone rang. It was my bud, Peter, who was applying for the other editorial position. He informed me that he had arranged another day for his interview because he was too sick with the flu. After a few consoling words, suggested remedies and his repeated assuredness that he would be okay for my ‘big day’—after-all he was going to be my best man Saturday—I hung up and headed out into the blustery and rainy March day with a fairly large degree of trepidation; a fear that was less about the interview than the drive in. You see, since Peter wasn’t driving, it meant that I had to drive my less than in great shape 10 year old Isuzu.
On my way to the interview, I stopped at the closest self-service gas station to fill up and get some oil. The fill up went fine but while I was pouring the oil a gust of wind came out of nowhere and slapped the oil over my best shirt, tie and dress jacket.
Actually, it was my only dress shirt, tie and jacket.
Already running late, I had no choice except to show up at the interview looking like a mechanic who had forgotten to change. Feeling already overly self conscious about my appearance, I stumbled through the hour long interview, shook their hesitant hands and left, thoroughly convinced that I had blown it.
Thursday evening I picked up my bride-to-be, Jeanne, and headed to the Fairmont Hotel to meet my future sister and brother-in-law and their four year old son for the first time. They had flown in the day before from the East Coast for the wedding on the Saturday. Their son Tom was the ring bearer.
As we drove to the hotel, my mouth was sawdust dry with nervousness since it was my first time meeting them. And, like any future brother-in-law, I wanted to make a really good first impression. So, fearful of bad breath and wanting to relieve the dryness, I popped in a stick of Bazooka bubblegum and relished its wonderful ooey, gooey, satisfyingly juicy effect.
What can I say, I have a bubblegum fetish.
Fifteen minutes after arriving at the hotel, I found myself alone with the four year old Tom while Jeanne helped her sister and husband put together a tray of goodies and drinks in the kitchen of the adjoining suite. In order to entertain the little tyke I decided to blow up the largest bumble I could. Wide-eyed, Tom giggled with delight as the bubble grew larger and larger. Then, for no apparent reason, the kid reached out and punctured it with his index finger.
That ooey, gooey, icky, sticky bubblegum slapped itself like a magnetic ghost slime across my beard and moustache and I spent the rest of that evening attempting to expunge that damn lousy bubblegum from my beard.
I thought: Who ever thought we needed a ring bearer? Well…I’ll leave it at that.
By my wedding day on Saturday morning, I had given up trying to remove that bubblegum excrement and shaved off my beard and moustache.
Later as I watched my bride walk down the aisle of the church, I took a cursory glance at my best man, Peter, who was wavering to and fro in position. Giving me the thumbs up to reassure me that he was okay, I turned to meet my bride who was giving me one of her askance looks as she saddled up beside me.
Damn! I had forgotten that she had never seen me without my facial hair.
“It’s really me,” I whispered.
“I figured that,” she replied. “I just wish you had waited.”
“What’s the problem?”
“My teeth marks are on your chin from last night.”
I had obviously forgotten that amorous moment. I was sure that the bruising hadn’t been there when I shaved earlier.
Beads of sweat poured down Peter’s face as Jeanne and I completed the ‘I dos’ and the ring exchange. Then, just as I was about to kiss her, Jeanne’s head snapped back and she ended up on her back on top of Peter. Peter had fainted straightaway and had fallen on her train.
Later, we learned that he had been still in the throes of the flu with a feverish temperature of 105.
Though our Jamaican honeymoon was hampered somewhat by Jeanne’s neck brace and dislocated back, the three of us made the best of it. The three of us, you ask? Yes, the three of us—Jeanne, her wheelchair and me. I pushed that damn chair—whether she was in it or not—from one end of the island to the other in the worst possible weather to hit the Caribbean in a century. But, that’s another story.
Looking back on it 5 years later as I sit in my office in the editing department of the Sun newspaper, I have come to accept that life’s like that and that it works in wonderfully unexpected ways.
Do bad things really come in groups of three? My tendency is to reply: “Not really.” Yet, two weeks ago, it took me three attempts to get the spelling correct in a article for the now defunct German word: Rindfleischetikettierungsüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz.
I’m still holding my breath on that one.
Presently, I’m suffering through the editing of a medical article and trying to get the spelling for a lung disease called pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis correct for the third time.
Oh, well! I can only do my best.
I have come to gratefully accept that those heralding moments in life (whether in groups of three or not), once plucked out at some future date from life’s treasure chest of quirky moments, take on a whole new perspective and energy of their own; often becoming a story told clothed in much laughter. Moments like these are best described in the following quote:
“Do you know how there are moments when the world moves so slowly you can feel your bones shifting, your mind tumbling? When you think that no matter what happens to you for the rest of your life, you will remember every last detail of that one minute forever?”
― Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes
Much ‘stuff’ which fills our daily existence often goes unnoticed for no other reason than it is so tightly integrated into life’s daily landscape that it is taken for granted; it is relegated to nothing more than a given in an often unthinking, daily routine that affords little tolerance for distractions. I’m not saying it’s not important, in fact, just the opposite. It is a necessary human attribute for daily existence; it keeps our focus on getting the ‘job’ done—whatever that may mean.
Most of the time life’s like watching the humdrum uniformity of a newscast—the same old same old—that barely registers on the psyche. Then, one day something occurs sending ripples through that daily human landscape; something that glues us to the moment and sends the “mind tumbling” along a range from tragedy to comedy. Wherever the event occurs along this continuum, it is never void of revelation. Whether it is revelation born in the blink of an eye or not doesn’t matter. What does matter is that a modicum of truth is learned about ourselves, the ‘community’ we are part of and the role we play in it.
Some Thoughts on Family and Retirement
“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them…And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. when the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”
-Stephen King, “The Body”
Recently, I have come to reflect on a number of important threads in my life during the times I have waited for my radiation treatment at the cancer clinic. These are nothing more than thoughts which were barely rescued before they fluttered away to play hide and go seek within the deep recesses of my mind. Gathered on two separate occasions, this is my humble attempt to share in writing a partial snapshot of some of those fleeting moments in the hope that maybe my words will have meaningful impact on at least one person who reads them.
Some Thoughts on Family
by
B. B. Wright
To me family is a place where you can be your worst and the people around you remind you of your best. Family represents safety, respite and peace. In family lies positivity and positivity is forgiveness. Family recognizes that each of its members are tethered to his/her childhood and, from time to time it shows up unexpectedly in ways that may be either positive or negative in its impact. Family accepts both the broken and unbroken parts of its members unconditionally and seeks to either mend or rejoice in those parts. Family does not dote out punishment or shame when suffering accompanies the human spirit of one of its members but recognizes that forgiveness is the courageous witness to what s/he is and what s/he can become. Family recognizes, supports and protects all the tender, fragile pieces that form the fabric of each of its member’s life and, when necessary, helps in its healing process.
Some Thoughts on Retirement
by
B. B. Wright
Retirement brings its own set of rules. The number one rule is to ENJOY. Use your time wisely since time is your new currency. RE-examine dreams, both past and present, and pursue only the ones that still make sense for you. Rejoice in family and friends because they enrich your journey. Let go of negative thoughts and old grudges since they zap your energy and eat-away at your soul. Find something that is bigger than self to pursue in your life, you will never regret it. RE-examine boundaries you have set on yourself and, if any interfere with your new life choices, change them. Seek the wisdom you may have lost in knowledge and the knowledge you may have lost in information. You will find the questions you will need to ask and the wisdom to answer them correctly for you.
When Yesterday Becomes Tomorrow: Chapter Five
My apologies to those of you who have been following this story. I had hoped to get it out sooner but I am presently undergoing radiation therapy for cancer and as a result my energy and concentration levels have not been up to par. If all goes well Part Six should be up by the end of the weekend. Thank you for your understanding and support.
Now, I introduce for your reading enjoyment When Yesterday Becomes Tomorrow: Chapter Five by me, B. B. Wright.
_______
Louise nibbled on a small piece of garlic bread as she watched Ethan clear the table and load the dishwasher. A pleasant enough dinner, she thought, but… uneventful…Definitely not what I expected. Putting down her garlic bread, she picked up her half filled wine glass and, sitting back in her chair, she folded her arms across her chest. “Ethan?”
“Uh-Huh.” Placing the last dish into the dishwasher, he picked up his wine glass from the counter in front of him and turned to face her. “I hope you’ve enjoyed it so far?”
“I have! Very much! But…Ethan…I think you’re here for more than just feeding me a great meal and talking over old times. Huh? What’s the real reason for your visit?”
Ethan bit on his lower lip and looked at her long and hard before finishing the wine in his glass. “I kind’a hoped we’d get through dessert before…we discussed that.”
Taking a sip from her glass, she smiled and, raising her eyebrows, replied: “Then, maybe we should have started with dessert.”
He breathed deeply and let it out slowly. “Maybe… we should have.”
Placing his empty wine glass on the table, he disappeared into the living room and returned a few seconds later with a large brown envelope tucked under his arm. Sitting in the chair opposite her, he placed the envelope beside him and offered to refresh her drink from the partially finished wine bottle in front of him.
She waved off the refill and, with haunting undertones, asked: “Is it that bad that I need a drink?”
He poured an ample portion of wine into his glass and slid the envelope toward her and began massaging his chin as he watched her reaction. “In a word…yes, I think it is. I’m sorry, Louise, for what’s about to happen.”
“What’s ‘about to happen’? What is this?” Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized his face looking for an easy answer. Seeing none, she abruptly sat back in her chair as if the envelope was a viper about to strike.
“It’s an autopsy report. To be more precise, it’s Tom’s autopsy report.”
Bug eyed, she retorted: “Tom’s? Why? How? There was no autopsy report. I would have known. He…died from complications due to his prostate cancer. No! Whatever you’re about to show must be a lie.” Tears swelled up in her eyes as she stood up and walked into the kitchen for a tissue. “Why are you doing this to me, Ethan? Maybe you should go. NOW!”
He wanted to comfort her but at that moment he knew it was best to keep his distance. Too many unpleasant questions had to be asked and if he hoped to crack open his investigation some of them had to be asked tonight.
“Louise…please…Come back. After you’ve read it, you’ll understand why I can’t just pick up and leave.”
Several moments passed in silence before Louise returned to the dining room with a box of tissues and sat down. Dabbing her eyes with a balled up tissue, she eyed the envelope that lay a short distance from her. Her hand crept across the table and her fingers touched its edge tentatively.
“Ethan, how did I not know there was an autopsy report?”
“It was arranged through CSIS (Canadian Security Intelligence Service) working with the RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police).”
“What was Tom working on?”
“He had been working on some highly classified stuff before his death. I know that doesn’t answer your question but in time you’ll learn.”
“You’re one sonofabitch, Ethan. You know that, don’t you? Once I’ve read it, I want you out of here. DO YOU HEAR ME? OUT OF HERE!” She pulled the envelope toward her and spilled its contents onto the table. Picking up the report, she had barely started to read it through her teary eyes when she looked up at Ethan quizzically. “What’s lethal polonium-210-induced acute radiation syndrome?”
“It means that Tom was murdered,” he replied, dolefully.
“Murdered?” Slack-jawed, her mind agonized over what she had just heard and the questions she knew she had to ask; her eyes feverishly skirted the room looking for readymade answers only Ethan could supply. “Are you telling me he didn’t have cancer?”
“No…Louise, he had cancer. I’m telling you that…someone wanted him dead before he had a chance to talk to me. And, whether you know it or not, you may have the clue to who did it.”
“But…murder?”
“What twigged us into the possibility that Tom was murdered was the Alexander Litvinenko case a few years back. I don’t know if you remember it because it got scant coverage on our news.” She shook her head in the negative. “Well, he escaped persecution in Russia by obtaining asylum in the U.K. It turned out he had been working for British Intelligence, namely for both MI5 and MI6. Litvinenko wrote two highly controversial books accusing the Russian secret service of staging Russian apartment bombings and other terrorism acts in order to set the stage for Vladimir Putin regaining power.
We were aware that Tom had prostate cancer, Louise, but we were also aware that it was not life threatening. Two weeks before he suddenly got sick, he alerted us that he had come across some highly sensitive material. Based on the symptoms exhibited in your doctor’s report and comparing it to Litvinenko’s death, the clandestine autopsy was ordered.” Feeling the tension gathering in his neck and shoulders, he stood up and stretched.
“Did you ever find out what the sensitive material was that Tom had discovered?”
“We went to his usual drop-off location with the hope of finding it there but came up empty. So, either someone else got to it or else Tom hid the information in a different location.”
“But Ethan, how would I have the clue to who killed Tom? Or to anything else? How?” Standing up, she began to pace back and forth. “I don’t understand. How could I possibly know such a thing?” She stopped and glared at him.
“Louise, no matter how I looked at it, unraveling this puzzle always came back to you.”
“Ethan, what are you saying?” She rounded the table and headed toward him.
“I’m saying…”
A bullet shattered the ceiling fan light in the living room on its way to its mark and within seconds the frame splintered at the bolt of the outside door to the kitchen sending the door smashing against the wall.
When Yesterday Becomes Tomorrow: Chapter Four
When Yesterday Becomes Tomorrow by B. B. Wright
Chapter Four
It was 3:20 in the morning when Louise switched on her night-table light and sat up in bed. Placing her pillow and the one beside her at her back, she picked up the novel “The Light Between Oceans” by M. L. Stedman from the table, leaned back and tried to read.
Disturbed by her movement, Pepper stood up, circled a couple of times before plopping down hard against her and resuming his sleep.
She struggled to finish the chapter she was reading but her mind kept drifting back to her conversation with Ethan the previous day. Inserting the bookmark, she closed the book and placed it on the table. Pepper was now snoring beside her. The running shoe he had retrieved from the rocks at the beach lay beside his head.
Though she and Ethan had spent three hours over lunch catching up on old times, she had been unable to elicit any information about what he knew about the case Tom had continued to work on shortly after he and Ethan had gone their separate ways.
Or did they go their separate ways? I never thought about that possibility until now, she mused. “Hmm.” Tom became so distant then. Why?
Uncharacteristically, Tom never discussed anything related to his new position in 33 Division even when he returned home one day with a badly bruised cheek. Often, he would disappear for weeks at a time. “It’s police business,” he’d say. “So don’t fret, dear, it’s not another woman. But, I can tell you this. When this case breaks wide open there’s going to be a few high level heads rolling.” It was the only time she remembered him breaking his silence.
Louise recalled how thankful she had been that Sheila, Ethan’s wife, had continued to be friends. Sheila’s friendship had been a boon during Tom’s long absences. Not a day went by that the two of them hadn’t been out on some kind of an excursion whether to buy new clothes, attend live theatre in Toronto or Thursday morning breakfast at the nearby Tim Horton’s. Then, one day—a year later—it had all ended with a call from Sheila. The conversation on the phone had barely lasted twenty seconds. No explanation! Caput! Finished! Nothing!
Consternation and remorse still easily bubbled up in Louise whenever she thought about that day. Friends, she thought, don’t just pick up and disappear like that…unless… she really wasn’t a friend.
Begrudgingly, she had come to accept that for all of the time she and Tom had spent with Ethan and Sheila she had really never known them. A conclusion easily reached when she learned that Sheila had run off to Vancouver with Ethan’s new partner who became the head of the newly formed Drug Investigative Unit there.
She reflected: How does that John Lennon quote go? Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.
Her conversation with Ethan the other day about that time troubled her because he had treated the whole thing so nonchalantly. He had been unwilling to divulge so much as a modicum of information that might have shed some light on what had happened. When she had pressed him on it, his demeanor changed dramatically and he became quite defensive. So much so she had to quickly back off. Their conversation had remained strained for a time afterwards but by the time they parted any hint of it had clearly subsided. His reaction, though, continued to confuse her and—to her way of thinking—there was something that just didn’t add up. But, what it was, for the moment, eluded her.
She glanced over at Stedman’s novel on her side-table and let out a long, forlorn sigh. Tom was the name of one of the main characters in her book and she couldn’t help but feel that her life, similar to that of Isabel’s, Tom’s wife in that novel, was about to unravel. She wished she hadn’t agreed to have supper with Ethan this evening. But, curiosity had got the better of her. Unfortunately, she remembered what curiosity had done to the cat. What bothered her the most occurred when Ethan had admitted their meeting in the park had not been an accident. She wondered what was up his sleeve. Would he drop it on me during the main course or during dessert? She mused. She guessed dessert. Life’s short, eat dessert first, she thought with a smirk. For me, it’s the time of greatest flavour.
Easing herself out of bed so as not to disturb Pepper, she headed downstairs for a glass of milk and the last slice of chocolate cake from a bridge party she had hosted the previous week.
As she sat at the kitchen table looking at her reflection in the window, she wondered what it was that Ethan needed to show her and why he felt it was so important that it be shown in privacy. Picking up her fork she cut through the triple layered wedge of chocolate cake and savored the morceau in her mouth before downing it with a drink of milk.
She glanced at the wall clock. It was 4:30. Getting up, she walked over to the cordless phone and brought it back to the table along with her address book and sat down. After she finished the remainder of the cake and milk, she opened the address book, found the phone number she wanted, punched in the numbers on her phone and waited for the pickup at the other end. She didn’t have to wait long.
“This had better be good Louise,” said the gruff, groggy voice of Jeffrey Deaver, the recently retired Captain of 33 Division, who picked up on the first ring. “You know what time it is?”
Louise smiled: “Of course I know what time it is.” She quickly discerned she was talking to empty air.
“Good! You didn’t wake up Meredith! Now what’s up?”
“I bet you were snacking in the kitchen like me. Old habits don’t die easily even in retirement,” she sniggered. “How’s that wife of yours handling you being underfoot?”
“Meredith’s doing just fine. But, why don’t you just cut to the chase and tell me why you called.”
“Do you remember Ethan Cranston?” She shifted the telephone to her other ear and stood up and walked into the living room. “Your silence is deafening Jeff.”
“Yeah… I remember him. So?”
“He’s in Meaford and it’s no accident.”
“Fuck!” He mumbled under his breath. “He’s always been a lose cannon. And Tom knew that especially…”
“My sentiments too, but you have such a poetic way of saying it.” She opened the candy dish and popped a chocolate in her mouth and sat down on the couch. “What were you about to say?”
“Nothing, nothing important. Did he tell you why he’s there?”
“He says he’s investigating a murder, if that’s what you’re asking?” She turned on the table lamp when Pepper came down the stairs and jumped onto the couch and settled in the corner opposite her.
“Hmm… Did he say what murder?”
“I guess I’ll find out this evening.” Patting her side, she looked over at Pepper to invite him to snuggle against her which he readily acceded to.
“This evening?” Jeffrey queried with more than a hint of astonishment in his tone.
“Uh-Huh. He’s coming here for supper. Even bringing it,” she replied smugly as she ran her hand softly along the top of Pepper’s head and down his back. “By the way, how’s retirement?”
“Okay…I guess.”
“Just okay? What the hell does that mean?”
“I’m going to bed,” he retorted.
“Wait! Help me out here. Ethan hanging out here has opened old wounds. Whatever happened between him and Tom?” Silence greeted her ears. “Nothing? You’re saying nothing?”
“Are you okay with inviting me to supper?”
“It depends.”
“Just say yes or no.”
“Yes,” she replied, unable to hide a tinge of reluctance.
“What time?
“Six.”
“You’d better tell him to bring lots because I’m bringing Meredith, too.”
When Yesterday Becomes Tomorrow: Chapter Three
When Yesterday Becomes Tomorrow by B. B. Wright
Chapter Three
Louise strained her eyes to identify the man who was trying to help Pepper but came up empty handed.
_____
Gregarious people, Louise and her late husband, Tom, were easily assimilated into the community and, as a result, quickly became either fast friends or familiar with most whom quite rightly so called themselves permanent residents.
Staunch in their cohesiveness as a community, they learned to endure the onslaughts from the city as nothing more than pesky insects defining a season.
_____
“Hey Pepper! What are you doing? Get over here,” she commanded, pointing down to her side. That’s not like him not to come, she thought, as she marched toward him.
The man who had been helping Pepper began to walk toward her. His toque was pulled down tightly over his ears and his high-back collar partly obscured his face. He smiled at her as he approached and slowed down, tipping his head in her direction as he passed. “Cute dog you’ve got there.”
She smiled and nodded back. He seems familiar, she thought. “If you think disobedience is cute,” she chuckled, pointing in the direction of Pepper who stayed his distance while playing with the running shoe he had retrieved from between the rocks.
“What can I say?” he replied, laughing. “He’s got the curiosity of a perpetual two year old. But, he’s still cute.” And, he began to pick up his pace.
“Ethan? Is that you?”
Stopping, he turned and slowly walked back toward her with a wide grin on his face.
Pepper dropped a soaked and muddied running shoe at her feet and attempted to get her attention.
“Shss.” And, she kicked the shoe away. “My god, Ethan! Is it really you? This is the last place on the face of the earth I’d expect to meet you. Take off that silly toque and let me have a good look at you.”
About to remove it, he hesitated. “Why don’t I keep it on until we find warmer surroundings?”
“Then I’d recommend the Boar Inn.”
When Pepper returned with the shoe in his mouth she bent down and grabbed him by the collar and hooked on the leash. Unable to dislodge the shoe from between his teeth she gave up and, placing her arm under Ethan’s, the two of them toddled off toward the Inn with Pepper leading the way.
“You know, you look pretty good for an old fart,” she said teasingly.
“Thanks,” he chortled, patting his stomach. “I’ve put on a few pounds there
since the old beat.”
“Tell me something. Would you have just kept on going if I hadn’t called out?”
“Louise…I know you’re still grieving over Tom. Timing…well…I didn’t want to intrude until…”
“Oh, Ethan! “ Why would you even think that?” She gave his arm a squeeze. “You and Tom were so close.”
“Yes…at one time we were. But, if you remember, he and I didn’t part under the greatest of circumstances.”
They crossed the street in silence and stopped outside the pub’s entrance.
“Ethan, all I knew back then was that you two were no longer partners. He never spoke about it…at least not to me. I’ve never held any rancor toward you.”
“Louise, I know that.” He sighed deeply. “Look, he was sworn to secrecy. Just like me. Few people knew. That’s the way the department wanted it played out.”
“Wanted what played out?”
“Let’s get in out of the cold,” he replied, opening the door. “Should we tie him outside?”
A smirk formed at the side of her mouth. “No…Pepper’s a regular like me. Anyway, he’s got a special in with the owner.”
A few minutes later they were sitting in a booth with hot coffees between them. Lying on the floor beside the table was Pepper with the running shoe tucked between his paws.
“It’s as plain as the nose on your face that you don’t want to talk about what went on back then between you and Tom. I’ll buy that for the moment. But, can you at least tell me why you showed up here after all these years?”
Ethan blew across his coffee and took a sip before answering. “I’m here investigating a murder.”
When Yesterday Becomes Tomorrow: Chapter Two
When Yesterday Becomes Tomorrow by B. B. Wright
Chapter Two
As the morning dragged on, the rain finally stopped and the sky began to clear up.
Placing Pepper on the floor she said: “Well little friend, if we’re going for a walk I’d better wash up and put on warmer clothes.”
Pepper playfully zigzagged in and out around Louise, occasionally leaping up at her, while she pretended to try to catch him. This continued for several minutes until he bounded up the stairs barking and, at the top, he turned and looked down at her panting. She could have sworn he was smiling at her but before she could blink twice Pepper’s wagging tail disappeared around the corner, heading toward her bedroom.
As she ascended the stairs, the sun burst through the clouds transforming the bathroom at the top from a solemn grey to a blinding glow of hopeful possibilities. And, she smiled.
Louise was glad she wore her ankle-length black Spanish Merino coat as she walked along the pebbly beach at Macleod Park, roughly ten minutes from where she lived. The sporadic sunshine had brought a handful of people to the park but most, she surmised, were discouraged by the cold north wind blowing off Georgian Bay.
She pulled the long hair Tuscany collar, that doubled as a hood, over her head and watched Pepper running up ahead, sniffing this and that as he went along. Normally, she would have had Pepper on a leash but, with so few people in the park today, she thought it would be alright to let him run free. Anyway, he never ran too far ahead and often scurried back with some prize he had gathered to lay at her feet. Occasionally, she’d gather up this newfound toy and play fetch and retrieve with him though, more often than not, she deflected his attention elsewhere while she discarded it.
She was glad that she had decided to wear her woolen mittens as the cold wind nipped at her cheeks. Picking up a flat stone from the beach she tried to skip it in the rough water but was unsuccessful. Undeterred, she tried several more times until one stone completed a triple skip and she giggled like a young girl. Looking around for Pepper, she found him further along the shoreline than usual, pulling at something between two large rocks at the water’s edge.
_____
The Town of Meaford began to change about ten years ago. Whether it had changed for the better or worse was open to debate. The local bakery coexisted with Tim Horton’s—contrary to what was expected—and the local tax base was sizably increased from the influx of people from the Greater Toronto Area hungry for lands on which to build their dream homes. Many who came, came only for a chance of respite and an opportunity to play in at least one of the four seasons. This would have been all fine and nice if these outsiders had been willing to leave well enough alone. But, when the smell of money to be had reeked across the landscape, the tenor of country living—though kicking and screaming—was corralled in and redesigned to give a contrastingly new meaning to what was meant by country living. It was now defined along more narrow lines that emphasized the self-centered blindness of entitlement. This philosophical shift irked the locals as they resented to their core these city dwellers who bullied their way into their lifescape. Real-estate once enjoyed by all—especially along the shoreline—became prime real-estate and was gobbled up overnight, only to be traded the next day for a hefty price-tag. Three new high-rise condominiums had been completed along the shore-line last spring so that there were now five: two at one end of the park and three at the other. The number of upscale shops along Sykes Street running parallel to the park had tripled. Closed between seasons, these shops mainly catered to seasonal dwellers and tourists while the locals stayed with the familiar to support their friends, their family and their way of life. They were begrudgingly coming round to tolerate that that unwelcomed change was part of life’s twists and turns that entailed familiar faces disappearing and strangers arriving in their place.
At the corner of Sykes and Lombard was a century old Tudor-style building, the Boar Inn and Pub where the locals—mainly the fifty plus group—came for a few pints, a game of darts, a good chin-wag and sing-along, and plain good food, usually British fare. The younger group on Friday and Saturday nights wouldn’t be caught dead there and willingly drove the forty minutes along the coast to the joie de vivre atmosphere of the town of Collingwood to celebrate the weekend at the Admiral’s Post Pub, Lounge 26 and the Copper Blues.
_____
“Where is that dog?” she grumbled under her breath as she looked around for him. “Pepper!”
At the far end of the shoreline, Pepper was busily trying to pull some sort of object out from between the rocks with the help of a man.
When Yesterday Becomes Tomorrow: Chapter One
When Yesterday Becomes Tomorrow by B. B. Wright.
Chapter One
Heavy rain, common to November, had pelted the Meaford area for the previous twenty-four hours and, now, was nothing more than a drizzle. Located two hours north of Toronto on the shores of the fresh waters of Georgian Bay, the area awaited the arrival of winter and the influx of skiers and winter enthusiasts.
Louise Kedry’s long, reddish hair cascaded over the comforter as she pulled it up around her shoulders and under her chin. She wore soft brushed polyester blue pajamas bought for her by her late husband, Tom. Snuggling down to keep out the damp morning chill, she chided herself for not programming the thermostat to come on earlier.
On weekends, Tom had always brought her breakfast in bed: a tray of hot tea and warm buttered toast with strawberry jam, her favorite. He would sit on the side of the bed drinking his coffee while they rehashed the week and planned that day’s activities.
Her eyes welled up with tears that coursed a path across her flushed cheeks. She missed his playfulness and how he’d blame their dog Pepper for stealing a slice of toast from her plate.
An impish smile creased her girlish face as she pulled a couple of tissues from the box beside her and dried her tears.
A black terripoo, pressing against her, stirred restlessly as it jockeyed about for a comfortable spot. Finally, giving up, he jumped off the bed and ran to the bedroom door and scratched frantically at it.
“Ok! Ok! I’m getting up Pepper,” she said, disgruntled by the thought of leaving her warm bed.
By the time Louise’s feet hit the cold wooden floors searching for her Haflinger wool slippers, Pepper had nosed open the door and headed downstairs.
She watched Pepper through the window in the kitchen door rooting about to find the best place to do his business. He seemed so undeterred by the inclement weather and she envied him. Forcing her hands into the side-seamed pockets of her blue, full snap-front robe, her shoulders crunched inwards to a sudden chill. A burst of warm air from the vent she stood beside travelled up her leg and she moved closer to it.
By the time the whistle on the kettle heralded, Pepper was back in the house shaking off the rain drops and looking for something to eat.
Gently, she blew across the surface of her tea to cool it down while watching Pepper chow down. She welcomed the warm, moist steam on her face and the heat of the cup that she cradled in her hands and hoped Pepper wouldn’t pester her too much for his ritual walk. The radio in the background informed her that the rain would stop late morning and that it would be a cold but partly sunny day. Winds off Georgian Bay, biting this time of year, made her shudder even more when she thought of the possibility of a walk before the warming effect of the sun had managed to burst free from its prison behind the clouds.
She missed the company of her two sons and their families but she had come to accept that their busy lives pressed them back to their world. Though they had only left yesterday, it seemed an eternity ago.
Unnoticed by her, Pepper had finished his meal, slurped down some water, and made his way over to her, leaving a trail of water droplets behind him from his soggy beard. Still ignored, he pawed roughly at her leg.
Placing her cup on the table, Louise patted her lap to encourage him to jump up onto it. At first, she regretted her invitation because his wet face, licking tongue, and affectionate energy were overpowering, and she tried to push him away. But, once he settled down on her lap, she patted him, and her mood became warm and loving and she could accept his gestures of affection.
She remembered when Tom had first brought her to meet the litter of puppies and the only black terripoo among them he had already named Pepper. It had been obvious to her right from the start that Pepper and he had chosen each other and how much that relationship had brought out the little kid in Tom again. Pepper was his first dog. Her eyes bubbled up again with tears and she dabbed them with a well used tissue, retrieved from her pocket.
When Tom was dying of cancer, Pepper never left his side. They were inseparable. Pepper, a quiet dog except for the usual warning barks when strangers came onto the property, had become unusually restless during Tom’s final hours. When he died, Pepper’s prolonged forlorn howling sent a soul chilling dagger through the night.
Louise cradled Pepper closer, hugging and kissing his head. She knew she was silly to think it—it was just her imagination—but, she could have sworn that she felt Tom’s presence. And, she held Pepper even closer.
To be continued
Some Further Thoughts on Education
“The task of the modern educator is not to cut down jungles, but to irrigate deserts.” – C.S. Lewis
“Intelligence plus character-that is the goal of true education.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.
“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” – Nelson Mandela
Does the educational system betray the trust of parents?
No, I do not believe it is the educational system that is betraying the parents.
As long as the decision making is top-down and void of real meaningful collaboration with stakeholders (schools, teachers, students, etc.), the educational system is doomed to failure. Equity must be applied across all students so that they have access to the same opportunities; their assessments should be based on individual differences not differentiated opportunities otherwise, a number of school districts will needlessly suffer. If the disciplines of algebra, geometry, physics and chemistry (if it hasn’t already occurred) have not shifted to a more formal presentation in middle school and therefore in-line with the rest of the world then our students will lose their competitive edge. When a top-down authority arbitrarily decides to “raise the bar” on our students, it demeans the principles of the educational system and demoralizes both teachers and students; it is an action void of lofty thought that inadvertently punishes the very people it heralds to want to help.
The following quote sums up how I think about our teachers and the need for all stakeholders to be actively involved in shaping a better future. Deflecting blame for our failures only hurts the ones we love; accountability means taking ownership and that must include all of us.
At a time when other countries are doubling down on education, tight budgets have forced states to lay off thousands of teachers. We know a good teacher can increase the lifetime income of a classroom by over $250,000. A great teacher can offer an escape from poverty to the child who dreams beyond his circumstance. Every person in this chamber can point to a teacher who changed the trajectory of their lives. Most teachers work tirelessly, with modest pay, sometimes digging into their own pocket for school supplies — just to make a difference. Teachers matter. So instead of bashing them, or defending the status quo, let’s offer schools a deal. Give them the resources to keep good teachers on the job, and reward the best ones. And in return, grant schools flexibility: to teach with creativity and passion; to stop teaching to the test; and to replace teachers who just aren’t helping kids learn. That’s a bargain worth making. —President Obama
Teaching: My Point of View
RESPECT, APPROACHABILITY, AVAILABILITY, UNDERSTANDING, TRUST, SUPPORT formed the base upon which I worked from with my students.
Phobias and negative attitudes associated with mathematics on the part of most students formed the barrier that I often, as a mathematics teacher, expended the greatest energy trying to overcome.
Effective learning is an empowered partnership in which both student and teacher are accountable to each other through on-going dialogue; there should never be a power struggle between the two. I continuously used their feedback to tweak my course and encouraged the students to do likewise.
Students must be an integral part of their learning experience, not outside of it. The best way I knew how to do that was staying connected with them through constant dialogue and, most importantly, acting on it in a tangible way. They had to see that I listened to them. Once students believed that I did indeed ‘walk the talk,’ the classroom took on a whole new meaningful learning experience.
A simple gesture like standing at the entrance to a classroom and welcoming each student goes a long way toward changing attitudes toward learning in that classroom. Posting full solutions to tests and assignments and allowing time for students to check them and ask questions establishes a level of accountability for both teacher and student.
Students have a right to understand where and why they went wrong and how to correct it. Anything less, in my opinion, cheats the student.
I could never have imagined teaching the same course the same way year in and year out. If I had taught that way I know I would have gone flat and so would have the learning experience in my class. Each class taught me something different which was incorporated into the next class and so on. When I considered the variety of learners in each class, how would it be any other way? As a result, a variety of learning experiences were built in to each week’s set of lessons reflecting the new information I had learned the previous week.
Teaching can never been done in isolation. If a particular student had difficulties, I went to the different departments on the student’s timetable to speak to their teacher. Often, much was learned by doing that.
Finding My Way
My dad impacted me the most. His steadfast perseverance, intelligence, fair play, honesty, foresight, courage, sacrifice and unconditional love for his family set the standard by which I measure my life each day.
Each stage in my life—often, when I needed help the most—has had a mentor to guide me through it before s/he handed me off to the next. This is a blessing that visits so few of us and I will always be grateful for their wisdom, patience and understanding.
One mentor, if for no other reason than the longevity of his contribution, stands out: Dr. H. L. Ridge, Professor Emeritus, University of Toronto. He was my mathematics instructor at the Faculty of Education, University of Toronto. He not only challenged me to think differently and apply my learning in a creative way but, he was the model of commitment and professional standard that I became as a teacher. Like him, I encouraged my students to do better and be better than they were because I understood the benefits of that attitude to not only myself as a teacher but for my students.
My greatest growth as a teacher occurred five years into my career when Dr. Ridge asked me to co-author the first mathematics textbook series in Canada for Prentice-Hall: “Mathscope.” That opportunity to work with him was nothing short of “awesome.” His patience as he taught and guided me through each stage propelled me to levels of expectation, achievement, knowledge and personal-growth that—to this day—fill my life.
When Dr. Ridge learned that I had written my first novel “Betrayal of Trust” he was the first to critically read it and to provide his encomium on the back cover. His life and mentorship have given me immeasurable gifts. Nothing would have counted without them.
Standardized Testing – What Does it Do to the Average Student?
“If we are to achieve a richer culture, rich in contrasting values, we must recognize the whole gamut of human potentialities, and so weave a less arbitrary social fabric, one in which each diverse human gift will find a fitting place.”
-Margaret Mead
This quote by Margaret Mead is the foundation upon which my views as an educator were built; it is the lens (or bias) through which I will attempt to answer (as succinctly as possible) this deceivingly complex question.
Like an onion, the expression ‘average student’ consists of many layers of interpretation beyond the statistic of mean, median and mode especially when it comes to assessing the marvelous elasticity and growth potential of the human brain.
For example, who would be the average student and the below average student in these examples?
John wrote down the following in his notebook:
10+7=17, 9+6=15, 11+5=16, 8+11=19;
While Leanne wrote the following in her notebook:
10+7=5, 9+6=3, 11+5=4, 8+11=7
Leanne was also correct. How could that be?
I think most would say that John was at least average and Leanne was below average. John’s answers are the obvious traditional replies we would expect and, therefore, he would have been credited with a correct response. Unfortunately for Leanne, the logical path she chose would probably have been dismissed outright. Yet, I would argue that she is—in all likelihood—a more actively engaged learner than John and what we should encourage in our system. Why? She used higher level thinking skills to construct a different mathematical system while he regurgitated ‘superficial’ skills. In other words, she set a new standard of opportunity: opportunity to examine how she had applied what she had learned in a new and unique way.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I do believe that the basics must be mastered and are an ingredient for success in our competitive world; but, like all recipes, success depends on all of the ingredients being proportioned correctly. Imagine ranking a cake in a baking contest by only tasting its baking powder? Yet, I wonder if that isn’t what’s happening when a diploma is denied on account of failing an exit exam.
A student’s initiatives, creativity, imagination, curiosity, effort, judgment—just to mention a few—are invaluable assets that must not be ignored just because it cannot be measured on a standardized test; these assets can and are evaluated every day by our teachers. The following quote says it all:
Every person passing through this life will unknowingly leave something and take something away. Most of this “something” cannot be seen or heard or numbered. It does not show up in a census. But nothing counts without it. –Robert Fulghum, All I Really Need To Know I Learned in Kindergarten.
Our schools and teachers are well placed to develop and to deliver meaningful programs throughout a school day that not only recognize and engage the uniqueness of each student but allows for expression, awareness, and development of the multiple intelligences present in their classrooms. If we want all our students (irrespective of ability levels and socio-economic factors) to be lifelong learners in the 21st century, then the intelligences of intrapersonal, interpersonal, musical, spatial, and kinesthetic must be treated with equal importance alongside verbal/linguistic and logical/mathematical. To do otherwise not only cheats students from feeling successful and discovering their potential and the opportunities that await them, but may also deny the community the richness of their contribution.
The goal within our educational systems should always be about enhancing the quality of our students and the schools they learn in: not just about ranking them. The world we live in demands much more of our students than a shallow approach to learning that stresses storage of information in their heads. Higher scores (though laudable) on standardized tests should not be the gauge by which time and money are judged well spent; especially, if dropout rates continue to rise and our placement in the global community is deemed unsatisfactory.
Our choices must always profit our students. Stakeholders must collaboratively work together to find a way to encourage a willingness on the part of the student to trump factors that may impede their success and to find ways to empower our students to reach their educational goals.
Standardized testing has a place but, like the baking soda mentioned earlier in our cake, it is only one ingredient and, as such, must never (by itself) be accorded legitimacy when determining a valid measure of a good education.
An overemphasis on standardized testing impacts negatively on attitudes towards education and what learning is all about at a time when we want students and teachers engaged in a meaningful dialogue of discovery within their classrooms.
Living in a global community demands a broader, more informed perspective and application of a mixture of new learning ‘tools’ well beyond the regurgitation of facts. Standardized tests emphasize an outmoded emphasis that only hurts our students’ learning if it is allowed a disproportionate part in their educational experience. Twenty-first century education must have an all-encompassing and broader view that emphasizes commitment to fairness, equity, accuracy and quality for all.
How was Leanne right? This is my humble view on this problem.
If she let 10+7=5 (it really doesn’t matter what it is equal to because she always applies the same logic) then
9+6 = (10-1) + (7-1) = 5-2 =3
11+5 = (10+1) + (7-2) =5-1 =4
8+11= (10-2) + (7+4) =5+2 =7
What’s your opinion about standardized testing?
Angel Maker 