Category: Uncategorized

February 14: Today is Valentine’s Day* and I find myself alone. There’s an assumed conjunction between being alone, being unhappy and being unwell. I don’t agree.

I’ve been living on my own since last September. Obviously, the first few weeks and months of this change in circumstances was made somewhat more exciting by the need to move and then get settled into new surroundings. I found it very rewarding to have imagined how the new apartment could be set up, and then to actually work through the process of making it happen. There were issues which became opportunities for creativity. A few weeks ago, I finally finished hanging a few pictures and the place now feels like “mine”.

Because of the pandemic, I’ve been alone throughout this time. As I’ve recently written, it often felt that time was without limit and this made actually getting motivated to do things more difficult. Yet there have been relatively few times when I’ve actually felt bored, distressed or unhappy about being alone. A recent article in the Globe and Mail quoted John Eastwood, a clinical psychologist at York University as saying:

“…”doing nothing” means a lack of constraint or pressure. There are no external forces placing demands on how we spend our time, which means we have the opportunity to be fully present with what is happening. It means being time-rich. Being bored on the other hand means having an unfilled desire to be engaged in satisfying activity. It is associated with the feeling that time is dragging. Bored people are restless and looking for something they can’t find. It is very possible, and arguably desirable, to be “doing nothing” but not be bored. The prime example of this would be looking out the window and getting lost in daydreams, which can have great value.”

He makes an important distinction that I have found to be true in my own experience. Frequent reader(s) will know that I became interested in buying a cottage just before Christmas. I made a couple of offers but the cottage was ultimately withdrawn from the market until the Spring. As I wait for it to reappear, I have been daydreaming / scheming about ways to conclude the deal. Once I own the place (at least in my imagination), I imagine all of the problems that might arise and their possible solutions. There’s much work to be done, and many, many issues to be overcome. I’ve spent hours lost in thought analyzing each of these and then marveling at how wonderful my solution will be when realized.

To an outside observer, I would be “doing nothing”. And arguably I should be focusing on problems that actually exist and working toward their solution rather than “wasting time” imaginary and potentially non-existent scenarios. Still, that effort ultimately takes me to a happy place full of realized potential that might exist after this lockdown has finally ended. I imagine a fully-fledged cottage: a glass of rose in a Muskoka chair watching Segwun cruise by at dusk. In that sense I may be a dreamer. But I’m never bored.

* The truth is that we have all been locked down for so long that it feels more like Groundhog Day than Valentine’s Day, but that is a story for another time.

January 18: For several years I wrote New Years Objectives. I was reluctant to call them resolutions because that seemed to imply that you could resolve to do something but then never actually follow through on doing it. My city planning background told me that to be meaningful, these sorts of things had to be explicit, they had to be measurable, and they had to be on a timetable. So for example, one year I set the objective of running a 10 km race in under an hour before my birthday. I accomplished that; box checked. Personal satisfaction ensues.

In setting these objectives, I identified different areas where I felt the need for improvement or growth. These have changed over the years but have included physical well-being; personal creativity; spiritual and emotional growth; and, financial security. Some of these objectives are really a continuation of what has been in place for the previous year: continue running and try to develop a stretching and strength-building routine. The running part is easy; the stretching and strength part, not so much.

I like to think of myself as a creative person and “being more creative” has been an objective for many years. Obviously, you can’t measure creativity. Simply churning out endless numbers of useless paintings to meet a deadline is not very creative. While I attend classes (now virtually) during the school year, I gradually lapse into not painting at all when the classes are not active. My objective in the past has been to develop a routine that provides an opportunity to do something creative as often as possible. Even an hour a day sketching, painting or writing would be a huge improvement and probably a benefit to my mental well-being.

And there’s the problem: with the COVID lockdown in place, time has become infinite. Every day is the same as the last. There’s no rush to do anything because there is always another day. I find this immensely discouraging. I’m not motivated to do anything significant because it can always be done tomorrow. I’m wasting precious time by not making better use of this period of enforced introspection and unlimited opportunity.

So for now I have not really written any objectives for 2021 (although simply avoiding the virus might be worthwhile). Instead, I’m starting small: for the next while I’m going to try to be more purposeful and present in my life. Take more opportunities as they come and focus on actually doing some new things to distract from the day-to-day sameness we all face. A step in the right direction. And who knows ? In time I might actually find the time to write some objectives for the rest of the year. You know: that time when we can go outside again.

December 20: The news arrived toward the end of last week that the computer systems and data banks of many US government departments and agencies had been hacked by foreign agents. Among those victimized were the Department of Homeland Security and the departments of Treasury, Commerce and Energy among others. Apparently the attackers used a vulnerability in a software program developed by a US company called SolarWinds to access servers across the country. One commentator likened the process to having your phone updated every night. There’s new data added and updates to software which go largely unnoticed. According to some, it’s the most serious attack on the US since Pearl Harbor.

The attack also affected governments and businesses in Canada, Europe and elsewhere around the world. Most analysts suggest that the attack was perpetrated by the Russian security service. It took patience and time to succeed, and was so intricate that most experts I have seen automatically rule out the vast majority of other players. Whoever is responsible, the damage is done and it will take many months to understand the extent of what has happened, and even longer – perhaps years – to correct the damage.

I have long believed that the next war will be fought in cyberspace. Indeed, I understand that hacks and attacks on government computer systems are pretty much a daily occurrence. There is a “battle” on-going that we unwittingly join simply by going on-line. It seems to me that we are blissful in our ignorance of the real dangers we face from cyber attack; imagine for example what would happen if the internet was to shut down for even a day or two.

The parallels with the current pandemic are obvious. We have been and will continue to be attacked by malicious “viruses” that have the ability to totally destroy our lives as we know them today. They are unseen, introduced willfully or by accident and can be undetected for long periods of time. They can transmit rapidly between hosts, and mutate as they do so. They seem to become endemic, and are extremely difficult to combat or eradicate once established.

We are certainly right to be concerned about the current and future impacts of the COVID pandemic; its’ effects will be with us for years. I also think that we need to wake up to the very real dangers we face in our increasingly computer / app-driven world. The scope of the recent hack demonstrates how complacent we have become, and how vulnerable we are to an “electronic pandemic” that will be much more damaging and long-lasting than anything COVID can send our way.

 

December 4:

November 21: The last month has unfolded behind an ominous drumbeat of increasing COVID case numbers. As the Ford government threatens a lockdown and dithers about when and if it will happen, hospitalizations and deaths increase daily. The weather has turned colder and a tendency to remain indoors and isolated has made for a melancholy time. But in spite of all the bad news, there have been some bright spots.

Cottaging: In August I wrote about a trip to Muskoka to see the sights and railed in a sanctimonious way against the oversized and out-of-character nature of recent cottage homes. Shortly after, and completely by accident, I stumbled across a listing for a very dilapidated cottage on a private island directly in front of the last cottage we owned (now owned by my friend McCart). It struck a chord in me and I have spent the last month trying to figure out a way to buy it. It’s eye-wateringly expensive and needs far too much work to be a reasonable proposition at my stage in life, but unfortunately, I have a vision of what it could be like, and I have become a bit fixated on getting ahold of it. We are a long way from any sort of deal. I’ll let you know how this goes.

May I Help You: Also in August, I wrote about trying to get a replacement Pleasure Boat Operators Permit from Boaterexam.com . I had telephoned at least 5 times, and sent a further 4 or 5 e-mails to the company trying to get a replacement license, but heard absolutely nothing from them in the intervening 4 months. About a week ago I decided to contact the Federal Ministry of Transportation to see if they could get a response, and in the course of that, called Boaterexam once again. As expected, I got the robot answering machine, left a message and expected nothing further.

A couple of days later the phone rang with one of those long – short rings that signifies a long-distance call.  I was trying to ignore it when I spotted Boaterexam on the call display. Snatching up the handset I found that it really was them, actually returning my call. When I mentioned to the caller that I had first called in July and had subsequently heard nothing, she said “We’ve been a bit busy….” No apology, no further explanation. “We’ve been a bit busy….” For 4 months. Anyway, 10 minutes and $30 later and I now have a replacement license. And if the cottage works out, I’ll need it.

Keep Left: Paul Romer, Stanford economist, once said “A crisis is a terrible thing to waste.” With the COVID pandemic in full swing there seems to be no shortage of crises that we are in the process of wasting. In no particular order we have Black Lives Matter and the need for racial equality; indigenous land claims and the need for reconciliation (however you define that); climate change and environmental impacts including the extinction of species; social inequity and the need for affordable housing across the country; inter-provincial relationships and trade structures;  Police relations with minorities and the need to eradicate a toxic work environment at the RCMP. Feel free to add as many more as you wish.

Throughout it all, our governments have been banging the drum of getting COVID under control. Every day I see various talking heads say “I’d love to tackle that problem, and we will, but right now we have to be focused on helping each and every Canadian through the pandemic ….” Chief among the apologists is Justin Trudeau. Make no mistake: I’m an old lefty from years gone by. But false concern expressed in his practiced theatrical voice drives me nuts. When will he actually DO SOMETHING rather than talk about it ? So here’s a little something to consider from the ever insightful and prickly Rex Murphy. Wouldn’t it be nice ….

Rex Murphy: Conjuring up an even greater reset (msn.com)

October 29: Over the last 3 weeks I’ve finished my move from the townhouse to my new apartment. During that time, I’ve been thinking about the many times that I have moved and the emotions that those moves have stirred up.

I remember sitting on Mum and Dad’s blue down-filled couch watching the furniture being moved into the house on Inglewood. I was 5 and would live in that house for 20 years. After landing my first full-time job, I moved to a second floor apartment on  Walmer Road that had a small fireplace, an even smaller balcony, and hideous bright yellow paint on the walls. That could be fixed with a coat of paint, but the gold shag carpet haunted my days there.

Another couple of moves and I was living in a third floor one-bedroom on Parliament Street just south of Carlton. This was, and remains, one of my favourite places to live because it was right in the middle of the action on the street. I could walk to work (at City Hall in those days), and then shop for dinner on the way home. It really taught me the joys of living in a city environment. After a couple of happy years there, Mum and Dad helped me to buy my first house on Martin Road, not far from where I’m living now. It was a power of sale deal for $55,000 and it needed a fair bit of work to bring it up to date.

I took advantage of a Federal make-work stimulus program to build and addition on the back and relocate the kitchen to the front of the house. But unfortunately, no amount of work could replace the stairs which were so steep that they would not have been out of place on a submarine. Only after falling down them a few times did I figure out that the best way to descend was to stick your toes out to the sides and walk down like a duck to make sure that your whole foot landed on the step.

After Melinda and I got married in 1987, we moved to the Lakeshore in Etobicoke and lived in a quintessential 2 bedroom post-war bungalow. There were 3 rooms in the basement and a separate bathroom, so Marisa had her own kingdom as she grew through public school, high school and university.

I’ve been in Garden Court for 6 years now and have (mostly) enjoyed being back in a very urban environment. When I look back on all these moves, I associate them, with fundamentally happy periods in my life. Usually they signified a new start in a fresh environment and an opportunity to create a new life experience. Moving has been a transition from one way of life to another, full of hope and promise. It’s exciting to be starting afresh, even if the hauling of boxes is somewhat less than enjoyable.

This most recent move has been all of those things. I really enjoy the space, and I think I now have it more or less set up to my taste. Most of the time, I can find the things I’m looking for, and there’s space for painting and maybe even playing a bit of bass guitar. Unfortunately, it’s on the second floor so I already miss the day-to-day interaction with all of our friends around the townhouse door. We were a regular stop on the dog-walking circuit and we made many friends in the brief time we were there.

But being off the ground feels like withdrawing from people, and that feeling is heightened by the end of my relationship with Kate and the resurgence of the COVID virus. We are again facing a lock down that begins with the onset of winter. The whole situation feels ominous to me at this point so the hopefulness and promise of my move to a new place is tempered with concern. After so many happy moves, this is a new experience for me – one I don’t particularly enjoy.

October 5: Kate likens my personality to that of a Border Collie: always alert to new threats, calculating appropriate responses, herding people and events toward some desirable outcome. I accept that comparison and certainly recognize the behaviours that have developed in me with years of practice.

When I was working, Border Collie instincts could be helpful. Our team was very busy and those instincts had me on guard for errors or misjudgments that would be costly in time and effort. I was managing the team and herding people toward desirable outcomes, agenda deadlines and better performance. Having Border Collie instincts helped me to sort the big problems from the small, and to deal appropriately with those that needed my immediate attention. When your hair is on fire, you look for a bucket of water.

With retirement, and now the (impending second-wave) COVID lockdown, I’m faced with less to do, less to manage. While you might think that would be a blessing, in fact, it is not. I’m finding that with fewer issues to assess, my Border Collie instinct seizes on any problem as a matter of significant importance that requires a full assessment and a structured plan. I was awake until 2 AM last night as my brain tumbled through  what might go wrong this week as I move into my new apartment. That happens in 4 days, so there’s no immediate need for concern, yet I react as if  certain doom is right around the corner.

I understand why I might behave in this way. My childhood, and later adult years were marked by alcoholism. Growing up and then living with this uncertain environment meant that I had to be ready for anything; I needed a plan. I learned to be a Border Collie to protect myself.

With COVID closing in again, it has begun to feel like every event is somehow significant and warranting a plan of action. You can’t just go to the grocery store now; there’s a procedure that has to be in place. Things need to be done to protect yourself and others. Routine matters now have greater potential to be a threat that requires attention.

In and of itself, that is understandable and appropriate. This is something that we need to do if we are to survive as individuals and as a society. But I am not sure that many people acknowledge the potential impact that this level of stress and preparedness can have. One of the hidden and insidious dangers of COVID is its’ impact on the physical and mental health of old dogs like me.

September 20: For several years I’ve harboured the idea of renting a boat and doing a day tour of the Muskoka Lakes. There are lots of alternatives in the fiberglass / aluminum boat rental universe, but I felt that I wanted something special if I was to spend the day dawdling down memory lane. This lead me to Muskoka Launch Livery, and Demoiselle, a 1951 Duke Playmate.

After a few perfunctory instructions from the owner, Stan Hunter (“Neutral is pretty much hypothetical…”), Kate and I unleashed all 25 horsepower and headed up Lake Muskoka from Scarcliffe Bay. I twisted the accelerator in the centre of the steering wheel to the stop and we gathered momentum (speed would be a misnomer). It seemed that Demoiselle topped out just under a plane, so the bow always seemed a bit too low, and we were often spritzed with water over the bow.

The serene pace of our tour meant we could focus on the scenery, and on the cottages and towns we had come to visit. I’ve many memories of my time in Muskoka that involve cottages my family rented, or cottages I’ve owned along the way. While there was a period when I had visited Muskoka at least once a summer for more than 45 years, it’s been a long time since I’ve spent any meaningful time exploring these past haunts.

I will admit to misgivings. When I sold our last cottage, one of the reasons was that I felt Muskoka had become very pretentious. There seemed to be a race toward the biggest, Most Ridiculous and Expensive Cottage award that I didn’t want to enter. Rather than the friendly, family-oriented place I remembered from my childhood, Muskoka and its’ cottages seemed to have become status symbols for the privileged few. Useful smaller family cottages were being demolished and replaced with reproduction homes from Toronto. Nothing seemed to be too outlandish: swimming pools (there’s a whole lake out there you may not have noticed….) tennis courts, waterfalls.

So it was that we idled up to the place where my Grandfather’s former cottage had stood. It was a single-storey, 3-bedroom, 3-season cottage with a furnace and a stone fireplace when he owned it. There was a one-slip boat-port where he stored his boats, one of which was a 1953 Greavette launch and the other a Peterborough cedar stripper with a 10 horsepower Evinrude motor. I would call the cottage comfortable but not exceptional; there were certainly grander cottages on the bay.

It has been replaced by this monstrosity. The boathouse alone is larger than the cottage had been, and has the now apparently de rigueur boathouse with a waterside recreation room (with wet bar), and living space upstairs. We saw this type of cottage / boathouse in many places as we wandered back to Scarcliffe Bay. It seemed that everywhere we went, the quieter, more modest cottages I remember had been replaced by garish, shouting monuments to wealth and power. Look at me; see what I’ve got….

I’ve been very conflicted writing this. Clearly my Grandfather’s family – my family and I – were very privileged. In hindsight, I remember those days as much more restrained and respectful of the traditions of cottaging in Muskoka. Perhaps this is a touch of “rose coloured glasses” but those were the attitudes that brought me back there for more than a half-century. They have now largely been replaced by a generation bent on displaying its’ wealth and poor taste. The connection to the past seems to have been lost. All that remains is a token outdated cottage here and there, and some old goof wandering around in a 1951 Duke Playmate.

http://www.muskokalaunchlivery.com/