Growing Up a Valley Kid in the 1980's

I grew up in a small Northern Ontario town called Hanmer, north of Sudbury with a population of about 10,000 people.  It was divided between French and English.  The kids who went to French school didn't often associate with the kids who went to English school.  My dad was French and my mom was English.  I went to English school because my brothers and sisters went there.

Fifth Birthday - no French kids that year!  

I played with anyone, I didn't care what their main language was.  My birthday fell at the end of summer which meant most of my school friends were enjoying the last long weekend of the holiday so had to invite the French kids to my birthday parties.  It was strange being the odd man out at your own birthday.  It was nice of them to come but since we only hung out once a year I wasn't in their circle.  I'd watch them play the games speaking French to each other while I topped up their glasses of orange Fanta.  Everyone knows, the French love a good party.

Growing up in Hanmer in the 80's was pretty amazing.  It was also known as Valley East.  We were "Valley Kids".  We had ultimate freedom.  The neighbourhoods were generally safe, kids were free to roam.  There were acres of bush land to explore.  One of my favourite things to do was to play in the bush with my best friend Laura. We'd build forts and set traps for the imaginary Indians.  We played for hours out there with no one knowing where we were or what we were doing.  It was our own private world that we didn't share with adults.

We'd hop on our bikes and ride for miles through a series of dirt tracks in the bush which were made by dirt bike riders (and in the winter time, snowmobile tracks).  These were called the monkey trails.  There was an element of fear and thrill, you could easily get lost in the monkey trail maze.  We loved the idea of someone sending a search party for us.  We'd pick wild blueberries and raspberries, pack a picnic, our Barbie dolls, and play all day out there.  Not a care in the world.

Laura and I at the age of 13 hitch hiked into the city.

Laura and I were pretty creative.  We didn't spend a lot of time indoors unless we were choreographing dances which we would perform on the front lawn for people out on their evening walk, we'd insist they they stop to watch. We would hold random craft markets where we'd sell our handmade macrame plant holders and bracelets.  We had a lemonade stand.  We'd decorate our bikes, recruit other kids and have parades around the neighbourhood.  We even dressed up on random occasions and went trick or treating in the middle of April.  That was our most ingenious idea ever.  Why suffer from sugar withdrawal when we can entertain for candy?  It was hard to resist our charm.  We were unique kids full of ideas.  I was the ring leader which won't surprise any of you who know me.  I was Batgirl, Laura was Robin.  Our parents didn't drive us anywhere like kids today, if we wanted to go somewhere we had to figure it out for ourselves.  At the age of 13 we started hitch hiking into Sudbury on Saturday mornings (I don't think our parents knew where we were).  We'd dress up in our coolest clothes and spend the day hanging out at Sudbury Shopping Mall.  We were pretty cool, at least we thought we were.

Laura went to French Immersion - both her parents were English but they wanted their girls to learn to speak French.  I went to the English Catholic school down the road - St. Anne's.  It was a great school.  I loved my teachers.  I loved school, period.  I was a straight A student but I rarely studied.  I was Valedictorian of my class.  Some people thought I was teacher's pet - and maybe I was.  I respected my teachers and it made me feel really good being reliable and conscientious.  I guess I'd be classified as a brown noser.

8th Grade Graduation - Pretty in Pink

My oldest sister taught me to sew.  She was an amazing seamstress herself.  I learned to make my own clothes.  The pink dress I wore to Graduation was the first fancy dress I made.  I hand beaded it and everything.  I was very proud of it.  I'm so lucky I had my sister.  She was the only person who kept an eye on me, she was my main role model.   She instilled a sense of decorum and style.  She used to dress me up like a doll and do my hair and make up like one of those little perverse beauty pageant entries they have in the USA.  I loved it.

But it wasn't all roses growing up with so much freedom.  It not a nice feeling being invisible and having no rules.  Boundaries and rules give you a sense of security. It was standard for me to come home from school to an empty house on a Friday afternoon, leave a note for my mom to tell her that I was at Laura's and I wouldn't come home until Sunday night.  This was at just 8 years old.  Prior to that age, my brothers and sisters were there but as they became teenagers I hardly saw them.  My mom worked to support 5 kids on her own.  To me this was normal.  She worked hard to put food on the table and I took it for granted that she gave me practically anything I asked for.  We didn't have much.  She always put our needs first.  She drank to hide her sadness.  A lot of my friend's parents drank.  That was also somewhat normal.  They didn't all fall asleep in the chair in the living room without making dinner... that set me apart from the rest.

Me and Al 1986

My best school friend was Allison.  I loved going to Al's place for weekend sleepovers.  Thinking back, I wasn't home much on weekends, I was always sleeping over somewhere. Allison's mom and dad were really fun and they treated me like I was part of the family.  I thought Al was so lucky.  They had a lot of parties which meant Al and I could to do anything we wanted.  We'd often stay up late watching movies that were inappropriate for our age.  I watched every scary 80's horror film at Al's house.  Allison had very few rules too.  Her parents trusted her implicitely and gave her the freedom to make her own choices.  The main differences between us was she had a dad and her parents openly adored her and drove her absolutely everywhere.  They took me and Al to Canada's Wonderland on a day trip.  It was 3 hours one way.  Unheard of in my world.  Allison's parents were fun drunks, vastly different from my mom who drank in her chair and passed out.

Laura's parent's were strict and I was intimidated by her dad, not because he was mean, in fact he was generous and very good to me.  I just wasn't used to strong male figures.  We had to do what he said, I couldn't get away with anything there and I tried, oh I tried!  I used to get Laura into so much trouble!  Bless her.  I think she spent half her summers grounded because of me.  Her dad often forbade her from hanging out with me, but we'd sneak around behind his back so he gave up trying.

My mom was lucky, because I was such a social kid, I was often invited to stay for dinner and weekends with friends.  It was an amazing way to grow up.  I was everyone's foster child.  I had motivation for this.  I was looking for love.

Sleepover at my house.  

As I said, children need boundaries to feel secure.  Having that kind of freedom left me openly vulnerable.  I was targeted by older boys who thought I was cute and who would bully me into doing things I didn't want to do.  I was abused by a number of babysitters in my younger years.

My first sitter, our next door neighbour, used to look after me when I finished my half day at kindergarten.  I would get off the bus and walk to her house for lunch.  My mom specifically told her that I liked peanut butter and jam sandwiches and that the only thing I would not eat was mushroom soup.  For two years that woman gave me mushroom soup for lunch.  While she was watching the Price is Right in the other room, I'd allow the soup to cool and then I'd pour it down my pants.  Why I chose to pour it down my pants and not down the drain, I don't know.  I didn't want to leave any evidence and risk punishment.  I'd excuse myself quickly before the soup ran down my leg,   I'd go home, change my clothes and play outside until my mom came home from work. This happened daily from the age of 4.  I thought I'd get in trouble for not eating my lunch so I didn't say anything to my mom.  I thought she knew, and I was getting away with it without getting a spanking. I could never understand why this lady blatantly ignored my mom's instructions.  Maybe she heard my mom wrong.  Or maybe she thought she'd convert me into a mushroom soup lover. I know it sounds odd, how I didn't say anything or tell my mom that I wasn't eating my lunch. I was afraid.  I was taught to eat what was put in front of me.  I sat for many hours staring at cold food (especially at Laura's house).  We weren't allowed to move from the table until it was all gone.  It was easier to pretend, hide the evidence, say thank you and leave.  I got good at sneaking food into my underwear or my big chipmunk cheeks.  At home, I just had to wait until my mom was asleep in her chair and then flush the evidence down the toilet.

I built the snowman but invited the French kids over for a photo.

Another babysitter used to punish me regularly by locking me in a bedroom for hours and hours.  Sometimes she'd lock her psychotic son in there with me and he'd bite me.  I'd often pee my pants, out of fear and the fact that the door was locked and we couldn't get out to use the bathroom.  Then she'd spank me... but it wasn't just a spanking.  It left welts. I didn't tell my mom about this either.  I thought she knew.  I seriously thought this babysitter told my mom how bad I was and my mom was okay with it.  I had an active, creative imagination to escape the reality.  I wanted to be anywhere but where I was.  This is when I began to meditate.  What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.  I learned from an early age I had to rely on myself.

Decades later I spoke to my mom about these incidences.  As you can imagine, I was pretty upset with her for leaving me with incompetent people.  But talking to her made me realize she really had no idea.  She was desperate to find anyone willing to look after me while she went to work.  She didn't have much money to pay and these sitters were cheap.  I asked, "Didn't you notice the mushroom soup in my clothes?"  She said she thought I was a messy eater.  She also thought I had separation anxiety.   She admitted she didn't like leaving me with sitters and was glad when I made my own babysitting arrangements.

Playing in the mud age 3.

It didn't make me a victim.  In fact, it made me incredibly resilient and resourceful.  I would not be where I am today if I didn't grow up the way I did.  I'm grateful for every lesson life threw at me.

I often talk to friends of mine who say that they envy my natural sense of freedom and the fact that I picked up and moved to the other side of the world.  They would love to do it, but they can't leave their family or the familiar comforts they grew up with.  Some friends even have parents who would make them feel guilty for leaving.  This is where I'm grateful for being raised to be independent.  My mother may have been negligent at times but she did the best she could given her own personal circumstance.  She ended up giving me the greatest gift - freedom to experience life, good and bad.  This has allowed me to find my own path, draw up my own conclusions and live life how I want.  When I was 16 years old I wrote in one of my journals that I wanted to live in Paradise.  A place where it never snowed but I could still go skiing on a mountain.  I visualized it and now here I am living the dream.

I choose to hold onto the good memories.  I had an amazing childhood.  I was given wings to fly... and look how far those wings have carried me!

Bigger Doesn't Mean Better

Yesterday I completed my final assessment with Te Wananga o Aotearoa Certificate in Small Business Management (CSBM).

Established in 1984, Te Wānanga o Aotearoa provides holistic education opportunities of the highest quality for Māori, peoples of Aotearoa and the world.  It is one of New Zealand's largest tertiary education providers offering a comprehensive range of certificate to degree level qualifications to New Zealanders of all ages and walks of life.

Guided by Māori principles and values, they really take great pride in this nurturing and inclusive learning environment, as well as the depth and diversity of their courses in small business, computing, social work, teaching, Māori performing arts and te reo Māori.

Te Wānanga o Aotearoa has provided a fresh and vibrant alternative within the New Zealand tertiary education sector for 25 years, enhancing the skills and employment opportunities of more than 50,000 graduates.

In my course we covered:

•   business planning processes in the New Zealand business environment
•   business law, including legal terms and concepts and preparing a legal plan
•  marketing, including principles and concepts which can be applied to real-life situations
•  people management, including employment and staff development
•  small business accounting, including business mathematics and accounting concepts (e.g., cashbooks and filing GST returns)
•  ‘the financial plan’, including taxation, budgeting, sourcing finance and implementing financial policies and procedures into a business. 

Our class having lunch together on our last day. 

It was a 36 week course done part-time.  My teacher Ra Winiata was just incredible.  An incredible human being with a passion for small business and helping people achieve their goals.  I call him Ra Ra Ra because he was our cheerleader.  

I have run a business for 18 years without any knowledge of what I could do better.  This course helped me to discover my personal and business strengths and the things that cause me the most stress.   My strengths are definitely in marketing, real life concepts and strategic planning.   Thinking about money and conducting research on what other people are doing with their business causes me stress.  I don't want to know what other people do.  I don't see the point.  Their path is different to mine so what does it matter what they're doing?  The end goal is different.  And in regards to money, I always do quite well applying simplistic logic to the art of making money.  I decide what I want and then I achieve it without going into debt.  

What I really need is a large sum of money so that I don't have to THINK about money and I can carry on doing what I love - healing, traveling and writing.  That will be my next goal.

I learned that business can be pretty ruthless.  People aren't afraid to steal ideas if it's going to make them money.  I learned this the hard way when I shared my long term goals with someone I thought was a friend.  She was an accountant for a big company so I thought I was talking business.  A few months later she started up her own business using my ideas.  I was absolutely blindsided.  It really threw me.  There's no such thing as friends in business sadly.  So knowing this, I've come to realize what I already knew.  I have no desire to be out there in that cut throat business environment.  I have been doing pretty well for someone who knew so little.  I have something that a lot of people don't have - common sense and survival skills.  I want to keep things simple.

I am happy ticking along earning enough money to pay my bills and live comfortably. Why would I want more than that?  It reminds me of that story about the American businessman and the Mexican Fisherman.

An American businessman was standing at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish.

“How long it took you to catch them?” The American asked.

“Only a little while.” The Mexican replied.

“Why don’t you stay out longer and catch more fish?” The American then asked.

“I have enough to support my family’s immediate needs.” The Mexican said.

“But,” The American then asked, “What do you do with the rest of your time?”

The Mexican fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take a siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I have a full and busy life, senor.”

The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds you buy a bigger boat, and with the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats.”

“Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the consumers, eventually opening your own can factory. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually NYC where you will run your expanding enterprise.”

The Mexican fisherman asked, “But senor, how long will this all take?”

To which the American replied, “15-20 years.”

“But what then, senor?”

The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO (Initial Public Offering) and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions.”

“Millions, senor? Then what?”

The American said slowly, “Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take a siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos…”

I love that story.  I am once again reminded why I moved to New Zealand in the first place.  It is so easy to get caught up in the treadmill of life.  That feeling of wanting more more more is apparently still haunting me!  

Taking this course reminded me that I can do anything.  I can achieve absolutely ANYTHING I put my mind to.  So if I want to live a semi-retired life then who's to say that isn't successful?  Apparently just me.   I know I need to stop comparing myself to others and just focus on what I want.

"If you can achieve your sales goals you have an excellent business Tracy. The challenge now is to find the passive income that will allow you to ease back from the physical demands of your current work in future - should you want to. I like your innovative thinking with the app that you are developing and you have a great skill in writing too. You are a woman of many talents and will do well in whatever you put your heart mind and soul into."       Ra Winiata 

Ta Ra!

Now this is the life.  Long weekends in Fiji.

My Confession by Ben Stein

I find that when I get on a role with writing, I just can't stop.  Even if it means sharing other people's brilliant thoughts and stories.

Here's one that I particularly love which my best friend posted on facebook.  I left North America for many reasons.  One of the main reasons was the loss of values and simple morals.  Something is lost but this gives me hope because other people feel it too.  Maybe it can be re-discovered.  God has become a dirty word.  It amazes me just how uncomfortable that word makes people feel.  Yet how many of us have heard little kids dropping the "f-bomb".  When I was a kid, you got your mouth washed out with soap!

The following was written by Ben Stein and recited by him on CBS Sunday Morning Commentary.

My confession:

I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees, Christmas trees... I don't feel threatened.. I don't feel discriminated against.. That's what they are, Christmas trees.

It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, 'Merry Christmas' to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu . If people want a crèche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.

I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from, that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat...

Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship celebrities and we aren't allowed to worship God as we understand Him? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where these celebrities came from and where the America we knew went to.

In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.
In light of recent events... terrorists attack, school shootings, etc.. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found a few years ago) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK. Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school... The Bible says thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.

Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave, because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he's talking about.. And we said okay..

Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves.

Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with 'WE REAP WHAT WE SOW.'

Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell. Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says. Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing. Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.

Are you laughing yet?

Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list because you're not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it.

Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what God thinks of us.

Pass it on if you think it has merit.

If not, then just discard it... no one will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don't sit back and complain about what bad shape the world is in.

My Best Regards, Honestly and respectfully,

Ben Stein

Quite Possibly the Best Job On Earth

The New Zealand All Black Sevens - Gold Medal Winners

Last year I was lucky enough to get a call from the New Zealand All Black Sevens physiotherapist, Matt Wenham (aka Chalky).  He'd heard about me and asked if I'd be interested in working on the team during training camps here in Mount Maunganui.

At the time my wrist was really playing up and I was having treatment on it.  I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle the physicality of working on rugby players, particularly at that level.  I asked Matt if I could think about it and get back to him.

Looking back, it makes me chuckle.  Who in their right mind says "maybe" to the All Blacks Sevens? 

It was an honour being asked.  I didn't have to chase this, they found me and asked ME if I could come work for THEM.  Of course I had to say yes... and I did.

At STOMP - really giving it to him in the gluteus maximus

It's been a long time since I've worked on a team.  The last "team" experience I had was just before I moved to New Zealand and I'd been asked to join the North American tour with STOMP.  I loved being on the road, it was a great social scene.  But the work is hard and the hours are crazy.  I'd work late into the night, often until 3am and then sleep in late.  Working on athletes is physically demanding.  You've got to be pretty fit to keep up.

 

Mostly I work alone.  I've had my own business for such a long time that I don't know what it's like to get a regular pay check or to work with other people in an office. It's just me and the cats.

On the Set of STOMP

I don't know a lot about rugby.  I've been to a few All Black games and I was a volunteer for the IRB Rugby World Cup in 2011 which was hosted here in New Zealand.  I've even been to the Wellington Sevens.  But I go for the excitement of the game - I don't follow any of the players.


I know the body.  I know how it works.  I understand the mechanics and physiology and how to treat injuries.  I'm a Neuromuscular Therapist and have been doing it for 18 years.  What does it matter if I know nothing about rugby.

I think this was an advantage because I wasn't star struck or nervous about going to work.  I had no idea who any of these guys were.

We are set up in a big common area in the hotel where they stay during their training camps.  There's three of us in there - Chalky, me and Annette, the other therapist who has been with them for years.  It's very relaxed.

I was just thrown into it. I wasn't given the scoop on any of the players - what position they play or what injuries they had.  I didn't even know any of their names.  They all call each other by nicknames.  I was just expected to figure it all out.  I guess most people would know who they were - but not this Canadian girl!  Gradually I got to know the guys and it didn't take long to feel comfortable (but I still don't know most of their full names).  It's a real team environment - I forgot how much I missed it.

Our shift starts in the evening after 7pm and usually finishes around 10:30, sometimes later.  The guys hang out watching television, chatting to each other, having late snacks and waiting for their turn on the table with one of us.  It's a good vibe.  Very relaxed and easy.  We have a lot of laughs.

Their coach Gordon Tietjens comes in from time to time if he's not off playing tennis.  That man works so hard coaching all day and then he plays tennis for hours in the evening or early morning.  He'll usually pop in for a massage when the last guy has finished (hence the late nights).  Titch is a real  Roger Federer fan.  If Federer doesn't do well, he takes it out on the players at training the next day.

Gordon Tietjens - Coach of the All Black Sevens and hater of cheese

I thoroughly enjoy working with Titch.  He's just an amazing man.  He has presence.  There is a twinkle in his eye and he's always smiling at the end of the day.  You can see that he loves his job.  This past year he was given the great honour of being inducted into the IRB Hall of Fame.  But to me, he's a local who happens to coach the world's best rugby team. We have some great chats on the table.  Titch always asks questions and wants to know everything there is to know about you.  He's genuinely interested in people.  We often talk about public speaking - he does a lot of it.  He gets asked to talk about Team Building - understandably.  This guy knows a thing or two about building winning teams.

The reason the All Black Sevens are so successful is because Titch knows how to choose the right players.  He looks for guys who have high integrity, who have strong morals and values and who are willing to work hard to achieve their goals.  As Titch says, "We are a team, there is no 'I', only 'We'..."  He doesn't tolerate ego and he practices what he preaches.  He's an amazing role model for his players and you can see and feel the respect they all feel for him.



Because of Gordon Tietjens, the team are a bunch of really cool, down to earth guys.  They are fun to work with, easy to talk to and it all helps to make my job pretty awesome.

It all sounds glamorous - massaging hunky rugby guys for a living - but it's bloody hard work!  If these guys weren't as awesome as they are, I might have walked away after the first season.  I don't have time for big egos or to feel like I'm hired help.  Physically it's demanding and hard on my body.  I want to be useful as a healer right up into old age so I have to look after myself.  When you are acknowledged and appreciated by the people you are "healing", then there is an exchange of energy.  If that energy wasn't there, I couldn't do it.  You have to get what you give.

A Sevens Player cooling his muscles after a hard training

One of my friends left a cheeky comment on my facebook saying how lucky I was to be working on the rugby boys.  I replied by saying, "You try softening tree trunks with your bare hands, it's bloody hard work!"  There's a lot of muscle to get through.  It's not about rubbing them down - but helping them through to the next round of training.  This is serious business for these guys.  Their career depends on how they perform from one day to the next.  No matter what I say, people tease.  They're right, it's a great job but not because of the bodies... a leg is a leg is a leg.  I get to be a part of this team as one of their therapists.  In a small way that makes me a part of the family (even if it makes me a distant cousin, I don't care).

Chalky and Annette are equally laid back and awesome colleagues to work with.  Annette and I are the only two women but we are respected, and even feared by the players because of our strength.  Neither of us are very big (Annette is only about 5') but we are strong!  The other day one of the players asked me if I could go easy on him.  I asked if he was feeling fragile.  "Like tissue paper."  He said.

I didn't need this contract for my CV.   After 18 years as a therapist, I've done my hard time working on athletes.  I was enjoying my quiet little studio in my garden by the beach.  I was trying to stay under the radar, enjoying semi-retirement.  But the Sevens found me and I'm grateful they did.  It can be lonely in the secret garden.  It's nice having the best of both worlds.

So at the moment I'm just working with the team when they are here training between tournaments which suits me.  But as things heat up with the 2014 Commonwealth Games approaching, I imagine it could get busier.  I'd love to go with them.

Loving how Sammy is hugging his new shoe in this shot.

RWC 2011

I'm also proud to report that I am learning more about rugby.  The guys have been gracious enough to teach me a thing or two and to answer my dumbass girly questions.  Plus, we watch a lot of games when we're working.  It's finally starting to hit me that I am actually working on celebrities in the sports world.  These guys are a big deal - but to me they are just my patients and ordinary people.  Take Tomasi Cama for example, I've just learned that he has been named IRB player of the year.  That's a big achievement!  I just knew him by his nickname!  I'm shaking my own head.   Next time I see him I should bring him a present.  What do you get a rugby player these days?  Do you think flowers are too much?

I'm learning more and I realize how little they probably know about the therapist who is working on them.  This is a girl who has come a long way from starting her own business in Toronto at the age of 20.  I have treated a few celebrities, actors, athletes, entertainers, very successful business people, most of them Canadian and American.  But now I have one of the most talked about Rugby teams in my brag book... and they found ME.  

The team is off to Dubai tomorrow and then South Africa the following week.  Good luck guys!  I'll be watching with new respect and admiration... and most of all pride.  I can say, I had a hand in your success.  That's amazing.

Karma Jarhead Pepper - When You Find Yourself in a Pickle (Jar)

My little cat Karma has taken a liking to drinking out of other people's cups and glasses.  He's getting into mischief lately.  I think he purposely looks for it.

Curious Cat

Early the other morning I heard a thud, thud, thud coming down the hallway.  It was before 6am and I thought, "What on earth is he playing with?"  But I didn't open my eyes as I was trying to catch the last minutes of sleep before my alarm went off.

He jumped up onto the bed but he felt heavier than usual, I cracked an eye.  At first I wasn't sure what was happening but as I focused my gaze I saw that he had his head stuck in a broken glass jar!  It was a startling sight but at the same time it was pretty funny.  Poor guy.  He was pretty "over it".  He is such a good cat.  He was calm, didn't howl or make a fuss.  He just needed help.

Once I realized he wasn't hurt, I had to get a photo.

What baffles me is how the heck he got through the cat door!  And how he didn't do any damage to the curtains or walls.

Thud thud thud down the hallway

I've worked out what happened.  The jar wasn't on my property so wherever it was, he had to jump over a 4 foot fence to get home.  The jar would have been full of water so this wouldn't have been an easy task!  He managed to break the jar when he got to our concrete patio.  Then he had to walk up the steps and get himself through the cat door and find his way down the hallway (thud thud thud) and up onto my bed.  It must've taken him hours!

The only thing hurt was his pride

I wasn't sure how I was going to get his head unstuck.  I thought I'd have to get out the cooking oil and grease him up.  But Karma managed to pull his head out when I held the jar for him.

Imagine waking up to this!

This cat has already used up two of his lives (that I know of).  I'm glad he comes to me when he's in trouble but what the heck if I'm away?  Who will be here to rescue him if I'm not here?  He's a worry!

Whatever was in that jar smelled bad.  I took him into the shower with me.  I wasn't sure how he'd react which is why I got in there with him. He's such a weird cat - he liked it!  I shampooed him, rinsed him off under the warm water and towelled him dry.  It's good to know he's not afraid of water.  Somehow I have a feeling this isn't the last time he's going to need rescuing.

Now this wasn't a small jar, it was quite heavy.  He was absolutely knackered and he slept the rest of the day.   It's a good thing his mum is a Massage Therapist.

This is typical of life.  We should all be curious enough to stick our head in jars.  Sometimes we get lucky and our head comes out easily, we've done something that others are afraid to do.  That leaves us feeling really chuffed.  But sometimes we get ourselves stuck.   The object is to not panic.  Simply stop and find your way home to the people who are there to help.  If you can get your head into the jar, you can get it out.  You just might need someone to anchor it for you.  Then you can still feel chuffed because you not only did something no one else would do, but you know the right people who can get you out of trouble.  Either way, it's a win win and you can sleep well knowing that you are safe no matter what you do.

I have decided to add Jarhead to his name...

Karma Jarhead Pepper

Meow.

Total (Partial) Eclipse of the Heart

Easy to see through the clouds

I witnessed a rare solar eclipse today.

The eclipse - caused when the moon passes directly between Earth and the sun - cast a 150-kilometre wide shadow which started at dawn in Australia's Northern Territory and then crossed the northeast tip of the country before swooping east across the South Pacific.

No islands were in its direct path, so northern Australia was the only land where there was even a chance of seeing the full eclipse.

Totality - the darkness that happens at the peak of the eclipse - lasted just over two minutes.

Watching through a hole in a piece of paper 

A partial eclipse was visible in New Zealand, with those further north able to see more of the sun covered by the moon.

 The Solar Saros 133, a series of eclipses which occur about every 18 years, began in New Zealand at the North Cape at 9.12am with the moon first creeping over the sun's disc before being viewed from around the country.  It ended just before lunchtime.

My friend Edine was here so we watched it from the spa pool at 10:30am.  It was quite cold outside.  The temperature was only 13 degrees.

The reflection on the camera showed two moons

Today's eclipse was the second of 2012, and the most complete eclipse New Zealand will see until July 22, 2028.

Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima

I got this message from a friend of mine on chat the other day:

^"Did you know....there was a Gagnon involved in raising the American Flag (a famous photo) in the the battle of Iwo Jima in WW2 also a Pepper as well. I watched the movie last night. Flags of our Fathers."

"Seriously? A Gagnon AND a Pepper? That's pretty random."

"Yes. The Gagnon was one who raised the flag. Look on Wikipedia. Very interesting."

I thought it was very interesting indeed.  Gagnon is my birth name - my father's name.  Pepper is my brothers and sisters name.  I go by Pepper because it was less complicated growing up.  And here, in a very famous moment in WWII, there was a Gagnon and a Pepper fighting together.

You may have seen this famous photo:  (The following has been copied from Wikipedia)

Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima is a historic photgraph taken on February 23, 1945, by Joe Rosenthal. It depicts five United States Marines and a U.S. Navy corpsman raising the flag of the United States atop Mount Suribachi^[1] during the Battle of Iwo Jima in World War II.

The photograph was extremely popular, being reprinted in thousands of publications. Later, it became the only photograph to win the Pulitzer Prize for Photography in the same year as its publication, and came to be regarded in the United States as one of the most significant and recognizable images of the war, and possibly the most reproduced photograph of all time.

Of the six men depicted in the picture, three (Franklin Sousley, Harlon Block, and Michael Strank) were killed during the battle; the three survivors (John Bradley, Rene Gagnon, and Ira Hayes) became celebrities upon their identification in the photo.

The famous picture taken by Rosenthal actually captured the second flag-raising event of the day. A U.S. flag was first raised atop Suribachi soon after it was captured at around 10:20 on February 23, 1945. This flag was too small, however, to be easily seen from the nearby landing beaches.

Rene Arthur Gagnon

Gagnon was born March 7, 1925 in Manchester, New Hampshire, the only child of French Canadian immigrants from Disraeli, Quebec, Henri Gagnon and Irène Marcotte. René grew up without a father. His parents separated when he was an infant, though they never divorced. When he was old enough, René worked alongside his mother at a local shoe factory. He also worked as a bicycle messenger boy for the local Western Union. René was drafted in 1943 and elected to join the Marine Corps.

On orders from Colonel Chandler Johnson—passed on by Captain Severance—Sergeant Michael Strank, Corporal Harlon H. Block, Private First Class Franklin R. Sousley, and Private First Class Ira H. Hayes spent the morning of the 23rd laying a telephone wire to the top of Suribachi. Severance also dispatched Private First Class Rene A. Gagnon, a runner, to the command post for fresh walkie-talkie batteries.

Meanwhile, according to the official Marine Corps history, Tuttle had found a larger (96-by-56 inch) flag in nearby Tank Landing Ship LST 779. He made his way back to the command post and gave it to Johnson. Johnson, in turn, gave it to Gagnon, with orders to take it back up Suribachi and raise it.

^{After the event, Rene Gagnon recalled:}

^{"On the morning of February 23 when the Colonel ordered these four men to take up the flag, they started going up and the communications were faulty between the top and the bottom of the mountain and they ordered me to take up the radio battery. When I got up there the four-man patrol with the flag had just got up there and they were about ready to put it up and when I got up I delivered the battery and then I went over to them and I was watching them put up the flag and the very heavy Japanese pipe…it weighed quite a lot…so they said lend a hand…so I just got into it...."}

Mount Suribachi is the dominant geographical feature of the island of Iwo Jima.

^{The Marines reached the top of the mountain around noon, where Gagnon joined them. Despite the large numbers of Japanese troops in the immediate vicinity, the 40-man patrol made it to the top of the mountain without being fired on once, as the Japanese were under bombardment at the time.}

Rosenthal, along with Marine photographers Bob Campbell and Bill Genaust (who was killed in action nine days after the flag-raising), was climbing Suribachi at this time. On the way up, the trio met Lowery (the man who photographed the first flag-raising). They had been considering turning around, but Lowery told them that the summit was an excellent vantage point from which to take pictures.

Rosenthal's trio reached the summit as the Marines were attaching the flag to an old Japanese water pipe. Rosenthal put his Speed Graphic camera on the ground so he could pile rocks to stand on for a better vantage point. In doing so, he nearly missed the shot. Along with Navy Pharmacist's Mate Second Class John H. Bradley, the five Marines began raising the U.S. flag. Realizing he was about to miss it, Rosenthal quickly swung his camera up and snapped the photograph without using the viewfinder.  Ten years after the flag-raising, Rosenthal wrote:

"Out of the corner of my eye, I had seen the men start the flag up. I swung my camera and shot the scene. That is how the picture was taken, and when you take a picture like that, you don't come away saying you got a great shot. You don't know."

A diagram of the photo indicating the six men who raised the flag: Ira Hayes, Franklin Sousley (†), Michael Strank (†), John Bradley, Rene Gagnon and Harlon Block (†).
(†) = Killed on Iwo Jima

Of the six men pictured–Michael Strank, Rene Gagnon, Ira Hayes, Franklin Sousley, John Bradley, and Harlon Block–only three (Hayes, Gagnon, and Bradley) survived the battle. Strank was killed six days after the flag-raising when a shell, likely fired from an offshore American destroyer, tore his heart out; Block was killed by a mortar a few hours after Strank; Sousley was shot and killed by a sniper on March 21, a few days before the island was declared secure.^[16]

Following the war, plagued with depression brought on by survivor guilt, Hayes became an alcoholic. His tragic life and death in 1955 at the age of 32 were memorialized in the folk song "The Ballad of Ira Hayes", written by Peter LaFarge and recorded by Johnny Cash in 1964.  Bob Dylan later covered the song.^.


According to the song, after the war:

Then Ira started drinkin' hard
Jail was often his home
They'd let him raise the flag and lower it
Like you'd throw a dog a bone!
He died drunk early one mornin'
Alone in the land he fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch
Was a grave for Ira Hayes.

Likewise, Rene Gagnon's last years were bitter; he died an alcoholic from a massive heart attack in 1979 at the age of  54.


Following the war, John Bradley was staunchly tight-lipped about his experiences, often deflecting questions by claiming he had forgotten.  During his 47-year marriage, he only talked about it with his wife Betty once, on their first date, and never again afterwards.  Within the family, it was considered a taboo subject. He gave exactly one interview, in 1985, at the urging of his wife, who had told him to do it for the sake of their grandchildren. Following his death in 1994, his family went to Suribachi in 1997 and placed a plaque (made of Wisconsin granite and shaped like that state) on the spot where the flag-raising took place. At the time of Bradley's death, his son James knew almost nothing of his father's wartime experiences. As a catharsis, James Bradley spent four years interviewing the families of all the flag raisers, and published Flags of Our Fathers, a definitive book on the flag-raising and its participants. This book inspired a 2006 movie of the same name, directed by Clint Eastwood.

 <sup>So there you have it.  Rene Gagnon was a distant relative.  One of my great grandfather's cousins.  Actor Barry Pepper played Michael Strank in the film.  Imagine if he had played the role of Rene Gagnon!    

Upon further research I discovered that there was indeed a Lieutenant Wayne Pepper who fought in Tinian, July 1944.  But there wasn't much written about who he was or whether he survived the war.  Still, I think it's pretty ironic to see the names Gagnon and Pepper together in history.</sup>  Main article: Battle of Tinian
 
<sup>Je me souviens Rene Gagnon.  Lest we forget Wayne Pepper.   And of course all the other brave soldiers  who lost their lives at battle, including the Japanese soldiers who defended their country.  They were all just boys.  What a waste of good lives and good men.  Let us make peace, not war.  

Written with love by Tracy Lyn Joy Temple Gagnon Pepper</sup>