Who's your Daddy?

I’ve never met my father.  It’s kind of weird to say it out loud, but I have absolutely no idea who he is as a person.

My Mom got pregnant at a very early age and my father left before I was even born because he didn’t feel as though he was ready to help raise a child. When I was a kid and people from my small Cape Breton town would ask, “who’s yer father, by’?”  I would normally crack wise and say that it was Clint Eastwood, John Wayne or Chuck Norris – and that I didn’t get to see him much because he was always away making movies in Hollywood.  Sometimes I would throw a wrinkle into things and tell people my Dad was Charlton Heston and his pet name for me was ‘Damned Dirty Ape’.  That always got a chuckle.

As a young boy, it was something that I found really hard to deal with and couldn’t reconcile that my father could just walk away from his son with a clear conscience. I was lucky to have my grandfather in my life until my early twenties and he was the one responsible for teaching me all the things a young boy needs to know. Stuff like how to properly mow a lawn, how to fix a leaky toilet, how to throw and catch a baseball, the difference between latex and oil based paints and how to treat a lady on a date – among other things.

I tracked my father down on Facebook a few years ago in order to get family medical history; just to see if there was anything I should be particularly concerned about as it pertained to my children. It was a very business-like interaction with only the basics exchanged, much the way you would deal with any stranger from whom you were trying to extract information.  I’ve had more personal dialogues with tire salesmen, to be honest.

At the end of the conversation there was a half-hearted attempt by my father to “get together sometime” and I politely declined. I had made it through over three decades without his parental influence and I simply wasn’t interested in making a new friend.  I haven’t spoken with him since.

One of my biggest fears as I grew into adulthood was that my lack of a present biological father would somehow handicap me in being a good Dad to my children someday. Always hidden away at the back of my psyche, the anxiety almost consumed me when I heard that my wife was pregnant the first time. What if I was a complete failure at raising a child? What if I was going to be the worst Dad ever?

Flash to my current reality as I sit in a hotel room somewhere in Quebec, with two queen sized beds occupied by my family as we make a stop on our way to Ontario for our family vacation. Not more than one hour ago, my sons almost got into a physical altercation over who “loves Daddy more” and which one of them would get to bunk with me. It’s about as far from my relationship with my absentee father as it could ever be.

Yesterday was Father’s Day. It’s a day I take very seriously on the calendar because it’s the only day aside from my wedding anniversary that I feel as though I’ve done something to earn.  I take being a father very seriously, but I see being a Dad as the most important job I have ever done.  Sadly, though, Father’s Day is seen as an afterthought by many folks and I think I have a good idea why.

You see, a lot of modern fathers are portrayed as bumbling idiots who can’t be trusted to take care of our own children without the steady, guiding hand of a female partner. We’re seen as a small step above caveman and there are thousands of ‘funny’ photos on the internet of guys using their kids’ bellies as places to rest their video game controllers, unintentionally putting their kids in harm’s way, and being so incompetent that they can’t even perform the simplest of tasks like feeding or changing a baby.  Everyone has a good chuckle and shakes their heads at those ‘poor dumb Dads’.

The fact is, though, that I think some of us are doing really good work. We take our kids to school, we cook their meals. We buy their clothes, we take them to their endless list of activities. We get up with them in the middle of the night when they’ve had a bad dream. We sit with them in emergency rooms with mystery illnesses, we educate them, play with them, read to them, and provide them with more love and support than we ever thought humanly possible.

We do what Dads are supposed to do.

So for everyone who thinks that all Dads are a carbon copy of the buffoons you see on your typical sitcom, please know that we’re not all cut from that same cloth. We understand that Moms have it way worse than us, but we’re trying really hard and we’re doing our best. We haven’t yet reached the peak of perfect patriarchy yet, but we’ve evolved – and are involved -more than we were even a couple of decades ago.  Unlike my father, some of us stick around after the fun part is done. Oddly, that’s when the fun part really begins. 

Happy Father’s Day!

Did the Earth move for you too?

According to the British Columbia Ministry of Energy and Mines, "The shaking motion of an earthquake is the result of a sudden release of energy. Earthquakes are caused when stress, building up within rocks of the earth's crust, is released in a sudden jolt. Rocks crack and slip past each other causing the ground to vibrate.”

Oddly there was no mention of naked Canadians having anything to do with the phenomenon.

Some folks on the island of Borneo in Kuala Lampur, Malaysia would take considerable umbrage with this definition. Many are claiming that a 5.6 magnitude earthquake that happened last week and killed 18 mountain climbers was caused by a couple of Saskatchewan twins – part of a larger group - who stripped down to their birthday suits for photos on Mount Kinabalu only a few days before. 

The locals believe that the mountain is home to sacred spirits who were insulted by the display of nudity on such hallowed ground, so the mountain showed its displeasure by shaking the earth and raining tons of rock down on innocent folks looking to scale the summit. The Canuck twins, Lindsey and Danielle Peterson were detained in Malaysia and, as of this writing, are still in custody as the Department of Foreign Affairs works to bring them back to Canada.

So, did these Canadian travelers deserve their punishment? There are a few ways to look at it, I suppose. One could look at it from the perspective that worshipping a mountain is ridiculous and it shouldn’t matter what these folks did – naked or not. Someone baring their nude behind would be in no way responsible for a natural disaster, and the fact that these folks are being detained is simply ludicrous.

One could look at it from the angle that these people were in a foreign land where a different culture is practiced and a whole other set of societal norms are enforced.  As a show of respect for the country being visited, the decent thing to do is observe their customs and requests – regardless of how unorthodox one may find them – and simply be a good guest.  The inhabitants of the island of Borneo obviously take their divine beliefs regarding the mountain very seriously, and to fly in the face of it was not only an insult to the mountain, but to the people who worship it.

A third and more troublesome interpretation that has been made by many online goes something along the lines of, “If all these foreigners come to our country and refuse to integrate to our culture and respect our customs and beliefs, why should we give a damn about what they believe when we go to their homelands?  A sacred mountain…who cares? Those villagers are lucky that getting naked was all those people did. Way to go!”

It’s quite the situation, and I can honestly understand the sentiment behind all three arguments. As someone with a completely secular way of thinking I don’t subscribe to the belief in or worship of any deity and can completely identify with the first outlook. Mountain spirits…come on, folks. 

As someone who was raised correctly and always taught to respect anyone who hosts me in any fashion, I am also on the side of the second argument. You don’t go into someone’s home and disrespect them. Why? It’s the decent thing to do, and I always thought that manners and basic human decency were the hallmarks of us folks who hail from the Great White North.  These tourists deliberately ignored the instructions of their tour guide who clearly explained the spiritual significance of the mountain to the party and warned them against even speaking ill of the spirits that dwelled within it. Not only did the group ignore the instructions, but they spit directly in the faces of their hosts by being completely self-serving and snapping their selfies au naturel on the island’s most revered locale.

Sadly, I can also understand a bit of the third viewpoint. I personally feel as though Canada’s identity has been eroding a little bit over the last several years. We have stopped promoting our own distinctive culture and traditions in an effort to not exclude or offend anyone new to our country, and a side-effect of this is that many would be hard pressed to explain what this country’s values are anymore.  It’s a rough situation where we have to find a balance between being accommodating and risking completely losing all that we’ve stood for in the past.

That being said, our nation’s struggles with personality don’t give us the right to go to other countries and run roughshod. The maple leaf on a backpack used to be the sign of a respectful traveler who would be welcomed anywhere in the world. The saga of the stripping siblings from Saskatchewan isn’t doing us any favors.

Whether you’re on a mountain or a molehill, my fellow Canucks, if someone tells you you’ll anger any sort of deity by doing something stupid, how’s about just avoiding it, eh?

Keep your stick on the ice and your clothes on your back. 

Poverty porn comes to your TV...

The Roman poet Juvenal coined the phrase ‘Bread and Circuses’ somewhere around the 1^st century. The phrase, in a nutshell, refers to the belief that the common man isn’t interested in his civic duty, his freedom or even the welfare of his fellow man. The common folk are simply interested in their own entertainment and are happy as long as they’re distracted from real issues surrounding them – the more outrageous the better.

The Bread and Circuses effect is on full and obscene display these days, and one need look no further than the CBS television network and their new show ‘The Briefcase’.

In this ‘reality’ show, two financially struggling families are made to deliberate over the decision of whether or not to accept $101,000 or to give it to another family in need. Each family is given this briefcase filled with money, and the first thing they’re made to do is spend $1,000 on themselves – a luxury seldom afforded to the deceptively named ‘American middle class family’.  It’s a clever ploy to give these unfortunate souls a taste of what it’s like to have disposable income so that they’re more prone to take the money and look like selfish miscreants when they make a ‘selfish’ decision.

Viewers of the show get to bear witness as these families wrestle with the choice of whether or not to keep the money, and if the decision wasn’t hard enough, they’re made to tour the other family’s home just to see how bad off they are. “What’s that you say? You’re trying to raise a family of five on $15 an hour? Well, the family you could be helping is expecting a new baby and the dad lost a leg in Iraq! Are you sure you really need this hundred grand?”  As these families are torn apart emotionally by this potentially life changing decision, you have commercials airing for luxury cars, credit cards and Hawaiian vacations in between.  How ironic. It might be funny if it weren’t so disgusting.

It’s profit from poverty, and what makes me really nauseous is the fact that there are going to be people who not only find this entertaining – but amusing. Don’t believe me?  I saw firsthand the other day how much contempt some folks have for those a little less fortunate while on my morning drive to work.

Every morning I take Wheeler Boulevard and generally find myself at a red light at the intersection of Champlain and Wheeler. Most mornings there will be someone standing at the chain link fence on the side of the road with a cup or hat, hoping that motorists might donate some spare change. I don’t have money every day, but on days that I do I happily contribute.  Last Tuesday morning, in the middle of a downpour, I watched as the driver of a very expensive SUV rolled down their window and forcefully threw what looked to be a handful of dimes and nickels in the general direction of the fellow who was standing there hoping for some kindness to be extended his way. It was one of the most insulting things I have ever seen one human being do to another in this city.


We’re living in scary times. The rich are preying on what’s left of the middle class, and if you don’t believe that fact you can check out the latest reports on the ever-widening wealth gap between the very rich and the rest of us poor slobs. As we work our day jobs and hope we have a little bit of money left over  for savings and entertainment after all the bills are paid, most direct their ire not at the folks up the line who are enjoying the lion’s share of the fortunes,  but look down their noses at those struggling more than we are.  Many idolize the folks who make more in a week than we do in a year but can’t be bothered even acknowledging the folks who truly need our help. Instead of lending a hand, many put a foot on the head of those in need to feel better about their own less-than-stellar situation.

They’re likely the same folks who sit and watch while honest, hard-working families go on a reality show to have their every move scrutinized and mocked just so they can have a chance at a better life – if only for a little while.  It’s a whole lot of “at least we’re not those people” at play and I suspect ‘The Briefcase’ will have no trouble finding an audience for their brand of poverty porn.

Do you think for one minute the folks with all the real financial power wouldn’t watch the exact same show with folks like you and I in the starring roles?

The fact of the matter is that there are two levels to society; the haves and the have-nots. Compared to the top tier folks in the western world, we are all the have-nots – just on slightly different scales.  The last thing we should be doing is making a spectacle of those who have less than us by not sharing our bread with them and making them the clowns in our circuses. 

The roots of Moncton's healing?

Ten years ago, my wife and I moved to the Hildegard area of Moncton with the intent of starting a family and putting down roots in our new home. Eight years ago today, we were planting a tree in our backyard as part of the healing process we were going through after our first pregnancy was lost.

If you’ve been reading this column for any length of time, you will know that our desire to start a family ended up a very successful endeavor and we are now the proud parents of two amazing little boys.  The oldest of those little boys is someone who I gladly shuttle out the door every morning so he can get himself a top-notch first grade education.

Every day, as I drive my son to school, I drive past the spots where the events of June 4^th played out last year. I remember the media assembled at the intersection of Mountain Road and Hildegard, the police tape stretched along the wrought iron fence just before you turn on Shannon Drive and, without fail, my eyes are drawn to the laminated letter and plastic flowers that still remain fastened to a telephone pole on the corner of Mailhot Street.

Every morning, I’m reminded of the eerie silence that fell over our neighborhood while we were in the middle of a lockdown zone, watching as a city waited for the capture of a rogue shooter who had taken the lives of three of our police officers. Even as I drop my son off, I wonder what would have happened on that Wednesday last year if everything had gone down while our children were still in school.  The thought of being separated from my son during that ordeal is unfathomable.

If I can be completely honest, despite the block parties and bicycle rallies that have taken place over the last year, the stretch of road named Hildegard Drive has been a constant reminder of a time that I would just as soon forget. For almost a year, home has felt like anything but.

My neighborhood looks a lot different lately, though.

A couple of weekends ago, a community group saw their fundraising efforts come to fruition when three rows of trees were planted to line each side of Hildegard Drive. They serve as a reminder of the events that took place in the north end of our city last June and a tribute to the three slain officers whose lives were lost on the streets of our north end subdivisions. There were 74 trees planted in all, with a trio of maple trees gathered together to honor the memories of the perished RCMP.

I haven’t taken my eyes off them in a week.

As with anything that happens in this city, there are some folks that have nothing but negative things to say about this gesture. They call it a waste of money, a pointless exercise to seek attention, or an overreaction to an incident that now should be a part of our ancient history. Some people have even called it “flat out stupid”.  I couldn’t disagree more.

When my wife and I planted our little tree at the far corner of our back yard all those years ago, it was more than just a bit of landscaping to us. It was a tangible thing that we could have to help us move ahead and give us some hope after a devastating personal loss. It serves as a constant reminder that things get better and that things can thrive, even after tragedy.  It reminds us that no matter what, life goes on.

It’s a pretty special little tree.

To me, the topiary that now lines Hildegard is pretty special too. It has given us a face lift and a fresh coat of paint to cover over last year’s memories. They’ve altered the landscape to where Hildegard Drive will no longer look like that road that was broadcast over and over again on countless news programs while our nightmare played out in front of the rest of Canada and, for that matter, North America.  They’ve added life to where lives were lost.   They remind us that life goes on in the north end.

Instead of constantly being reminded of what happened on these streets last year, I now envision what the street will look like with a beautiful canopy of branches and boughs covering both sides of it. Every morning now, my son and I count the trees that line Hildegard Drive as I drive him to school. We talk about what a positive thing planting them was, and how they will be around for a hundred years from now when the memories of June 4^th have become mere echoes of the raw emotion they are today.

There’s an old Chinese proverb that goes something like, “Keep a green tree in your heart and a singing bird will come.” Here’s hoping the trees of Hildegard will bring some of the music back to Moncton’s north end.

Don't let your kittens in the Dogg pound

 You see that fellow whose photo is linked to this post? That's Snoop Dogg - one of the most successful rappers of all time. Now Snoop isn't a Vanilla Ice type rapper; he's a guy who for over 20 years has been rapping about life on the streets , "banging bitches" and smoking weed. He is - as some people would put it - a straight up G.

Currently, Snoop is in nearby Bible Hill, Nova Scotia, filing episodes for the 10th season of the raunchy Canadian comedy 'Trailer Park Boys'. When you have a bunch of guys known for raunchy comedy and you combine them with one of the most recognizable faces of modern gangsta rap (man I felt white typing that), you can expect some shenanigans to say the least.

So, CBC decided to send a female reporter and camera operator to Bible Hill to interview Snoop on the set of TPB. Guess what happened next. 

If you guessed that Snoop made a comment that people were offended by, congratulations - your prize is in the mail. 

It seems that Snoop found the camerawoman quite attractive and commented on her being "thick" - referring to the shapeliness of her legs and behind. In what was probably his attempt to compliment the lady, Mr. Dogg engaged in some banter with her and mentioned how he was having a hard time not looking down. 

Cue the outrage. 

"We should expect this behaviour, but that doesn't mean we need to accept this behaviour". 

But here's the thing... You kinda do have to accept it. 

You see, I wouldn't go to an adult comedy show and not expect to hear some swearing. I wouldn't expect to go to a kids' birthday party without kids screaming. I wouldn't go to church and not expect to hear a prayer - and I sure as hell wouldn't be an attractive woman around Snoop Dogg and not expect him to comment on it in his own way. 

CBC made their own story here. They knew what they were setting their team up for and the team likely knew as well; it was almost guaranteed to happen the way it did. Now these ladies can be filled with righteous indignation and we'll be subjected to all kinds of national stories about what a misogynist pig Snoop is. 

The thing is though, I don't care. I'm in full support of women's rights but not everything that happens is a feminist rallying cry. This is, to me, a clear set up designed to create a story where there was none. 

Can these ladies really say they were shocked that Snoop made a (what he believed to be highly complimentary) comment to a woman he found attractive? If you're shocked by that, you'd also be floored to find out that Hitler really wasn't particularly fond of the Jews either. 

Give me a break. 

People, it's within your right to be perfectly offended by whatever you want. It's also perfectly within everyone else's right to not give a shit. 

Just keepin' it real 'til the next episode.

You can find the original CBC piece HERE

Another kick at the can

"Blog."

What a funny word.

"Blog."

Say it enough times, over and over again, and it starts to sound an awful like "blah, blah, blah."
Oddly, that's the main objective of someone who blogs - we want to communicate. In the case of blogging, we want to do it with our writing.

I'm no stranger to blogging. I have been doing it off and on (mostly off) for the last 16 years and I once had a site that had thousands of regular readers per week that I just decided to stop one day. One of the reasons - and the main one, really - for stopping was that I was a brand new father and I really didn't feel like sharing all the minutiae of my life as a new Dad with an audience comprised largely of folks I didn't know.

The second reason was that upon closer inspection, I realized I wasn't very good at it. Who wants to do something that you think you're terrible at? Not this guy.

I had a lot of friends keep asking why I didn't start writing on a website again, and I would always come up with some excuse that I thought would sound good enough to get them to leave me alone. the fact of the matter was that I wanted desperately to be a good writer and I wasn't, so I shut the factory down and sent all the writing muses home.

Then a funny thing happened.

A friend of mine who works for the local newspaper - the Time & Transcript - approached me about doing a weekly movie review column. Loving movies like fish love water, I gladly accepted and I realized the more I wrote every week, the more comfortable I felt. I gained confidence as I was beginning to find a more mature writing voice and I got another break when I was asked to do a weekly opinion piece in the same paper.

This year marks my fifth year doing the newspaper gig and I can't express how much it gave me the confidence I needed to start writing for an audience again. A big reason for blogging again is to share my work with people who may not have access to the newspaper, and I will eventually have an archive of most of my T&T work available for readers here. (If you look to your right, an archive has already been started, and the T&T pieces are all tagged at the bottom - click the tag and you'll be brough to the entire collection!)

The biggest reason for beginning to blog again, though?

I really miss it.

I just turned 40 years old and I'm a much different person than I was the last time I hopped on the blog bus and hoped for the best. I have two children now, have been happily married for almost 10 years, lost my mother and brother unexpectedly over the span of one year, had a near-death experience, stood at the precipice of depression, fulfilled some old dreams, made some new ones, and generally have amassed a whole collection of stories, memories and life experiences that I finally feel like sharing with someone.

Here's hoping that if you've made it this far, you find something that will keep you coming back.

I'm following my whimsy. You're free to tag along!