Handprint Poems for Other Occasions

Handprint Poems are a ton of fun.

It's Father's Day, or my birthday, or some other vulnerable time of year - and out comes the carefully wrapped gift from school. Is it a camera? Is it a bowling ball? No...it's my dear child's handprint carefully pressed into clay, with an accompanying poem like:

 

This is the hand
You used to hold
When I was only
 4 years old.

And just like that, I go from enjoying the moment to thinking about old age and death. So cute.

So why is this wonderful medium seemingly reserved for little children (and teachers) who want to blindside their parents into a state of despair? It seems like there could be so many other possibilities!

 

Shotgun Wedding Day

The groom has carefully pressed his hands - sans wedding ring - into clay, with an accompanying poem:

This is the hand

That used to be

Un-held, un-kept,

and completely free.

 

But now because

You forgot the pill

With ring my finger

I now must fill.



 

Any Birthday After 50

After jabbing both wrinkly, gnarled hands into cold soothing clay for a few precious minutes, the remaining imprints are given to one's grown children, with the following:


I miss you now we're not together
 You've all grown up so fast.
 See how much worse I've gotten,
Since you saw me last?

 As I aged, I changed a lot,
The years certainly flew.
You can't believe how old I got,
 While you've been so focused just on you. 

 So save these prints in a safe place
And visit them instead.
 That way you can keep on acting,
Like I'm already dead.

 

After a Breakup

Through tear-soaked eyes, the spurned lover has plunged his or her middle finger into the soft clay (much as their own heart has been plunged into by love's dagger). The resulting imprint is delivered secretly one morning to a certain someone's front-door with a note:

Your dirty little fingerprints
 You've left all over me,
 On my heart and soul and mind,
 And each part of my body.
 

So here is one that won't rub off,
 One last thing for us to share,
 And then you can remember me

By sticking it somewhere.

 

After Months in a Platonic Relationship

 

When it's time to move that relationship to the next level, how about an imprinted message like:

 

Ten tiny little fingers, that always want to play,
That never stop exploring the wonder of today,
Ten tiny little fingers, that have been waiting patiently,
To start exploring you and stop exploring me.

 

 

To Virtual Friends

 

Of course the idea wouldn't be complete without speculating on what this might look like in the brave new world of social networking. So here is a final poem attached to a picture of my virtual hands pressed in virtual clay...

 

 

Here my handprints are done
For everyone to view
I had so much fun
Doing this for you.

So look upon this handprint shot
 Upon your Facebook wall,
And memories will come back
Of me when I was very droll.

 

 

My Thoughts on Boston

I have never run a full marathon. It is highly unlikely that I ever will, and even more highly unlikely that I will ever run the Boston Marathon.

I have run a few half marathons, but have yet to do so in satisfying fashion. Each year that I've tried, I've run the distance during training with greater success than during the actual race, my training times being 10 to 20 minutes faster and fairly pain-free. My inability to finish a race (so far) in the time I'm aiming for and without pain has meant that the great feeling I should experience at having finished at all, has been eclipsed by a deeper sense of disappointment.

That aside, being at the finish line I get to see all sorts of great moments.

A few years ago, I finished my half at about the same time that the winners of the full marathon were done. It was truly astounding to see these athletes sprinting at the end of their race, after running twice as fast as I can and running twice as far for more than 2 hours.

It has been equally astounding to watch the 75-year olds being greeted by their grandchildren, and the young couples jumping into each other's arms after finishing their first race together, and the cancer survivors celebrating yet another victory over their disease. Those are some of the people who finish these races at the same time as the 48-year-old guys who have only done this a handful of times and are suffering from cramps as they limp across the line, let-down as usual. (Truth is, there are many more of them who have finished long before me).

No matter how I'm feeling about my personal performance though, I never fail to get a lump in my throat when I see whoever is waiting for me at the end (an allergic reaction, I think), whether it's my wife, my daughters, my siblings (and siblings-in-law), nieces, nephews, and/or running coaches and friends. Heck, I might even get emotional if I ever see my parents waiting for me there.

My point is that what makes it all worthwhile - at least for me, and at least so far - are the people who are cheering me on; the people who braved the elements and the crowds to be there for me; the people who console me and congratulate me for doing something they haven't (yet) done. I haven't let them down, even if I've let myself down. And they let me know it.

Which brings me to the moment that I decided I would give distance-running a try. My family and I were in Orlando and just happened to cross paths with the Walt Disney World Marathon. We stood waiting while a bunch of runners passed by. Standing next to us was a very young man holding a months-old, maybe weeks-old baby. We were lucky enough to be there at the moment that his wife - clearly very soon after having given birth - was approaching. The proud words he shouted to her, the sweaty hug, the tears in his eyes, the mom's kiss on the baby's forehead - were genuinely inspiring. As she rejoined the race, he shouted "see you at the finish". I turned to look at my wife and saw that she was a little blurry and that she was caught up in the moment as well.

Anyways, those are some of the people I've seen at the end of a marathon, and that's what I'm thinking about as I take in what happened in Boston the other day.

Making Sense of Taking Offense

As we live your lives, we develop defense mechanisms that protect us from encounters with unpleasant and even threatening things. In particular, when a specific encounter results in memorably negative consequences, we tend to learn to avoid that experience in the future. That's why most people only check if a red stove-top burner is hot once. That's why I've only bought my lovely wife a bathroom scale for her birthday once. That's why I'm hoping my daughters will always check and double-check their exam schedules from now on. 

 

I really don't like the feeling of having offended someone. Because I have done it before, I believe that I have developed a sense for those times when offense is looming. So that's when I get careful, paying special attention to the words I'm using and how what I'm saying might be interpreted by the potential offendee. It takes me longer than it has to when I write my blog posts for exactly this reason. I also avoid some topics altogether because there's simply no way to broach them without offending someone.
I call this sense. (That's why I usually write about things like cheese, hats, and kidney stones.)

 

Today, I'm going out on a limb into potentially dangerous waters (how's that for a mixed metaphor?) to explore a few examples of - and weigh in on - the giving and taking of offense.

Mattel

I don't care how hard you tried to make your new Barbie 'Dolls of the World' line inoffensive, there was just no way you were going to pull this off without offending many, many people. That said, to those who took offense at the stereotypical and insensitive design of the Mexico Barbie (for example), I assume that means you're okay with how Mattel usually depicts women?

People who are Systematically Stripping the English Language of Acceptable Words for Things
One of my daughters, upon having (temporarily) left the nest to get a higher education, reported back to me that there are a whole bunch of words that I use that apparently are no longer politically correct. I can't even list them here lest I offend someone. Suffice it to say that, for example, I no longer have a word I can safely use to belittle someone's intelligence. If I had one, I would apply it to those to whom I refer in this paragraph's title. (Idiots.)

Those who say "No offense, but..."
Do you think that saying "Don't get wet, but..." as you pour a pail of water on your friend's head would keep him or her dry? (It doesn't - trust me.) If you were in a Zombie movie, would you say "Not to make your head explode, or anything..." before dispatching the undead? I think not. But worse than that is people who get offended when told they smell bad (or whatever) after someone has just told them not to be offended. Can't you follow instructions?

Cats and Cat Lovers

In my October 19, 2012 post "A Morning's Musings on Matters of Medium (to small...", I said the following about cats: "Horrible things. Surely they can be made to be more dog-like with a little genetic manipulation?" In retrospect, I realize that my insensitive words may have offended some of you and I would like to apologize. I'm sorry you like cats.

Americans
See above.

The Women in my Life
If I have ever said anything to offend you, I am sorry. If you have ever been offended by anything I've said, you misunderstood me. As you know, I have devoted my life to making yours just a little brighter and if I have in any way failed in this duty as your son, brother, husband, father or paramour, I apologize.

The Person Who Just Farted Sitting Next to Me in the Restaurant I Presently Occupy
Wow. But you make a good point. Why do we waste our precious time on this planet being offended by others, or being afraid of offending them? As we all sit together in life's restaurant, we should all fart a little more (and little more audibly), and inhale a little more deeply when we hear the farts of others. We're human. We make mistakes. Better to laugh at the results than to cry foul. Pull my finger, friend. Pull my finger indeed.

I Lost My Hat This Morning

According to the Urban Dictionary the term 'I lost my hat' is used "as a general response, when a person is astounded or baffled at something, be it a person's idiocy or unwarranted self-praise. The term can also be used as a response to another person's completely lackluster news."

In literature, according to Yahoo! Answers, "to 'lose your hat' means to momentarily lose your head, like having a blond moment or going way over the top over a subject".

Here, what I mean by 'I lost my hat' is that I had my hat when I set out for work this morning, and now I no longer have it. I don't know where it is, although I'm pretty sure it's sitting on the train in the general vicinity of where I had been sitting before disembarking sans hat. It is lost. I lost it. Hence the phrase 'I lost my hat'.

With that out of the way, let me tell you about this hat.

I bought it a few months ago at Sears on deep, deep clearance. I think I paid $1.99 for it. Its original price was around $20.00. If it had been some other item and as big a bargain, its purchase might have filled me with great joy. But given that it was a fairly average-looking hat, it was one of those bargains where you say to yourself, "well, it's only $1.99 so I might as well buy it".

In fact, I bought two hats that day and I immediately put the other one to use. That hat is still in my possession and I must say it's barely functional as a hat. If I try to wear it down over my ears, it gradually slips up my head and forms a very unattractive little lump above my skull. When I fold up the bottom inch of the hat so that there's more of a grip on my head, it doesn't cover my ears. But I digress, because that's the other hat I bought that day.

This hat, of the two I bought for $1.99, played second fiddle and until yesterday sat in my closet with it's red-tag still attached. Why hadn't it become a first-stringer when the other hat turned out to be dysfunctional? Because I assumed, having been bought the same day and at the same place, that this hat would also suffer from the lumpy-skull-or-exposed-ears challenge. So despite having paid $3.98 for two new hats, I returned to my tried-and-true "Canada" hat that always makes me feel a little stupid since, living in Canada and wearing it primarily in Canada, it's little message ("Canada") seems pointless. It hadn't seemed pointless when I bought it just before a winter trip to Switzerland, but again I digress.

Yesterday, I had an appointment to get the snow tires off my car. The garage is about a 25 minute walk from the train station. It was a cold morning and I knew I'd need a hat. But the night before, I had put my regular tires into the car and in doing so I had been forced to put my rear seats in the folded-over position. Unbeknownst to me at the time I lowered the seats, my faithful but stupid "Canada" hat had become trapped in the seat and obscured from view.

So I found myself in the car - poised to drop it off at the garage and walk 25 minutes to the train on a blustery morning - without a hat. Mistakenly cursing my wife for having jumped the gun on putting away our winter wear (which, to be fair to me, she does every year), I ran back into the house to grab a hat. I looked at the other, dysfunctional hat and thought to myself: "No. Not this time." And in that moment, the third-string hat got its chance to shine. But just in case, I also grabbed my Toronto Marathon insulating headband because if the third-stringer turned out to be dysfunctional, my ears would pay the price.

The delay that resulted from having to go back into the house meant I had to make the 25 minute walk from the garage to the train in about 20 minutes (yes, it did take me 5 minutes to resolve my hat dilemma). This turned the walk into an alternating walk-and-jog. Wearing my Toronto Marathon insulating headband and my third-string hat in a walk-and-jog situation made me sweaty in the region of my head. So after I had made it to the train with moments to spare, I was forced to use the hat as a sweat towel. Imagine, after months of sitting in the closet, wondering if it would ever get into the game, this hat had warmed me and then wiped me.

And in case you were wondering, yes, it had stayed over my ears. Whether that was because it was a good hat or because it was worn over an insulating headband I will never know.

Today, the forecast called for a chilly morning again. I would need a hat. Last night, I had discovered the whereabouts of my stupid "Canada" hat when I put the newly removed snow tires back on the shelf in my garage and returned my seats to their upright position. (And yes, I did apologize to my wife for mistakenly cursing her even though she hadn't known about the curse.) But now I felt my $1.99 hat had earned the right to be worn again (despite the lingering dried perspiration it likely still held) so I chose it over stupid "Canada" - a fateful decision as it would turn out.

I wore the hat today for about 5 minutes as I walked from the parked car to the train. And then I left it on the train. It didn't deserve that.

Was about 25 minutes worth of wear worth $1.99? I don't know. My hope is that someone else will find the hat, overlook the stale smell of perspiration, and take it home. More likely, someone later today will deliver it to the train station's lost-and-found. There, I expect it will sit for a few weeks, until it makes its way to some charitable organization to be resold or given away to someone who needs a hat. I could go to the lost-and-found to recover it - but that would feel wrong (and since it was only $1.99, it's hardly worth the 8 minute walk from my office to reclaim it.)

I hope that by having shared this story, you too have now 'lost your hat' (see definitions above) and can thus feel more intimately connected to me, your friend, who suffers ever so slightly this morning. (Not because I lost my hat, but because of the Jays' home opener last night.)

And I furthermore hope that those of you who habitually tell me insufferably long and pointless stories, can learn something from this one. I will leave it to you discover what that lesson is.

Thank You in Advance Blue Jays...from a Fan

Just before the Blue Jays' 2013 season begins, I would like to say a few words:

No matter what happens in the coming months, I have not been this excited about the start of a season - any professional sports season - in about 20 years. I have the ownership / leadership of the Toronto Blue Jays to thank for that.

They did some amazing things earlier in this off-season. They took their chances. They put their money where their mouth(s) is/are. They went for it. They stepped up to the plate. They threw down the gauntlet. No matter what happens, I must remember the electricity they brought to this city for the last 3 or 4 months.

If all goes well, they may reap the benefit. The Blue Jays could make the playoffs. They could win a championship. They could win several. This city could bask in their reflected glow.

If things that are beyond anyone's control go badly, they may win nothing. That's what happens when you go for it. Sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn't.

In any case, this team has done a nice thing for us fans in Toronto and the GTA. For me personally, they have renewed my very childish love of sport. They have given me months of excitement - and I hope they'll give me months more.

I believe they will win a lot more than they lose this year. I believe they will compete game in and game out. I believe they will hit for average and for power. I believe they will steal lots of bases and score lots of runs. I believe they will be solid defensively. I believe their starters will go deep into their starts, their relievers will relieve, and their stoppers will stop. I hope that will be enough.

If / when they lose games, it won't be because they want to. Umpires won't conspire against us. Players won't throw in the towel. They hate losing more than I do. They want to meet the expectations they've set. But losses will happen and we will move on to the next game.

If / when they lose games, the media may do what the media does and bash them, assign blame, call for heads, and take no prisoners. That's how the media sells what they sell. Sometimes, a solid playoff-bound team is too dull for the media, and the better stories come when things go sour. That's the media. I won't play that game with this team.

I pledge to savour this upcoming season. The ups and the downs. The wins and the losses. The glorious home runs that steal victory from the jaws of defeat, and the near misses that inevitably will come.

This season I will rediscover the innocent, child-like love of sports and a sports team that used to come naturally. This team has earned that from me.

Thank you in advance Blue Jays...from a fan

Author's note: This post was inspired by my Mother who has already been heard to mutter "Here we go again" during a meaningless pre-season loss. 

What Makes Canadians Different from Americans?

I recently facilitated a session in the States and within a few minutes I heard someone's muttered question: "Is this guy from Canada?" When I asked what gave it away (not that I was trying to hide our country of origin), people answered that it was how I say words like "process" and "organization". Fair enough.

But, aside from the proper way in which we speak, what are the less obvious give-aways about where we're from? I can think of a few:

• For us, "March Madness" refers to the late March snow fall that inevitably hits after we're sure we're done with the stuff. It most certainly does not refer to a tournament that highlights our top collegiate basketball talent. We'd have a tournament like that but all of our top talent is busy in March playing in another country's tournament (besides, we don't have enough for two teams).
• For us, the "right to bear arms" refers to July and August when we're able to wear short sleeves. (The American spelling of "bare" is different from ours).
• Speaking of spelling, we learn to spell in school. We don't just take the hard words and create easier ways to spell them. We also don't create new names for letters of the alphabet so that they rhyme better.
• In Canada, we use the Metric system. This puts us miles ahead of Americans.
• In Canada, we don't (yet) have metal detectors in all of our schools. We don't do that because all of the academic medals that our students wear would set off the detectors willy-nilly. 
• You see, in this country we value education and invest our hard-earned tax dollars ensuring that everyone has access to it (if you're having trouble with that last sentence, education = "edu-m'cation" in American). We could also have ensured that everyone has access to guns, but then we'd need metal detectors in our schools.
• Before we start being accused of Communism or Socialism, please understand that we do favour the rich when it comes to just about everything (including education). But they can't have guns. And (please sit down everyone) they pay higher taxes than other people.
• Speaking of taxes, we pay lots of them: Income Tax; Sales Tax; Goods and Services Tax. "Sin" taxes. Etc. Being a Canadian comes with a price which we obediently pay. That's because we have lots of Government. It generally keeps our cities clean, our streets moving, our people educated, and our health good. And what's best, we don't often have to bear arms to ensure that our Government behaves (our last rebellion was in 1837 and most of the rebels were drunk).
• In Canada we don't turn celebrities into Mayors. We turn Mayors into celebrities (at least in Toronto, and not the good kind of celebrities). 
• While we're on the celebrity front, Canadians are surprisingly prominent. Canadians are funny. They sing well. They are really good at hockey and a few are good at other sports. They are great at anchoring American news. Canadian actors are like comfort food - they bring calm and class to American tv and movies. We've actually started making (and watching?!?) some of our own tv and movies, and some of them look like modern film production equipment was used.
• We have health care.

I could go on and on blowing our horn, but that's very un-Canadian. In fact, we're more likely to be heard complaining about our lot in life up here in this cold and mostly empty country. There's a reason for that too, but I am sworn not to reveal it (by our Ministry of Minimal American Immigration).

David's Guide to Healthy Living

Since some of you seem to think that I'm a healthy guy, in today's post I plan to exploit that misbegotten belief and dole out advice on healthy living. There is no rhyme or reason to the topics I've chosen to cover here, so don't expect any.

Salt / sodium

The salt in your diet is slowly and silently taking its toll on you. Even though it hasn't (so far) received the attention of other "killers" like cigarettes and drinking-and-driving, this doesn't mean you should ignore it much longer.

Since facilitating a session with Cardiologists and Nephrologists on the subject of hypertension (aka high blood pressure) about ten years ago, I have tried to minimize my daily salt/sodium intake. If you eat the way I do, you know that's like trying to minimize the amount of air you breathe (which I don't advise).

Back then, I implemented some changes in how I eat - and they were good changes. I'm not nearly as good today, but some things have stuck:

• No extra salt-shaker salt on anything I eat. Ever. I get more than enough in the restaurant or fast-food or grocery-store prepared foods I consume. My body was used to tasting salt, instead of food. Now I taste food. Give it a week or two and you won't miss it (okay, maybe a month).
• I choose from amongst the many equivalent grocery store items I buy based on which has the lowest sodium content (and fat, calories, carbs, etc. of course). If I buy a can of tuna, for example, I check the labels for the various brands and variations - and am always amazed at the range of sodium content. None are good, but some are much better than others. This is a dead easy no-brainer way to immediately cut down on sodium. But pay attention to serving-size because sometimes the manufacturers accidentally mislead you.
• In general, I am aware of the amount of sodium in everything I eat (again, by reading labels). Soup is a killer. Even the soup that I think of as bland is full of it. Bread is a shocker. Anything canned, processed, or preserved always comes with big sodium numbers. And so on.
• I have adopted the belief that if I eat out even once in a given day, I'm already over the daily limit I should have in my diet. A plain 12-grain bagel at Tim Horton's, for example, consumes about 30% of my daily limit all by itself. It doesn't mean I don't eat out; it just means that the rest of the day is about cutting my losses. (To see Tim Horton's Nutrition guide - again only for example - click here: http://www.timhortons.com/ca/pdf/nutrition-guide-can.pdf).
• Really the only chance I ever have of staying within my daily limit is when I/we cook at home. If I use an ingredient from a can, I rinse and strain it before adding it to whatever I'm making. When I cook vegetables, I steam them and add nothing (you'll be amazed at how good they taste once you've weaned yourself off of the extra salt). When making a sauce or a stew or a chili - by the time I've added all the herbs, there's little or no need for salt. It's not hard, but it does require discipline and enough time to cook instead of always eating out or buying fast grocery store meals.

The Globe and Mail had an article last week with a sodium calculator. It will give you an idea of just how much you're consuming currently: http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/health-and-fitness/health-navigator/how-much-salt-do-you-consume-in-a-day-you-may-be-surprised/article9477552/. Or go straight to Project Big Life here: http://www.projectbiglife.ca/sodium/#.UToi_Rw4v94.

Exercise

I run, and when I can't run, I treadmill or I ride a stationary bike. I don't do it as often as I like, and sometimes I can't do it because I'm busy or injured or sick. But the important thing for me was that I just started doing it one day instead of waiting any longer (about 12 years ago).

If you're not already doing something, find time in your weekly calendar that you can commit to something modest and just get started. If it isn't fun in some way, find something else because you won't stick with it. I joined Canada Get Fit to start my running career and just stayed with it until my body accepted that this was happening. Today, I wouldn't say I'm addicted, but not going for a run always makes me feel guilty and sad.

If you want, you can proactively find out how to prevent injury and how to optimize the impact of whatever exercise you choose. Or you can do what I did, start running, and learn about the injuries as you encounter them. That makes it more of an adventure.

Snacking and Treats

Here's the only really hard part (I think). It's one thing to start running, or feed yourself a healthy meal. It's a very different matter to constantly ignore the little boy (or girl) who was programmed by your parents to reward yourself for good behaviour with a treat or to nibble on a great big bag of greasy chips while watching TV.

Does this sound familiar?

• "I've been good this week...I can afford to get some pad thai at lunch".
• "Salad at dinner was great. Boy, am I a good person. I think I'll have a nice bowl of ice cream to celebrate my righteousness."
• "I think I'll have 2 or 3 of those big old greasy chips in the cupboard. No harm, I only ate half my french fries at lunch. Hmm...according to the nutrition label, a single serving is actually 10 chips. I'll have 10. Some of these are broken - I can probably have 20."

I'll give you two tricks that have helped me with snacks/treats:

1. Things that are deliciously sweet or salty should be enjoyed in the mouth. That's where your taste buds are. Eat slowly, savour the taste in your mouth, then grudgingly swallow it down when you have fully enjoyed the sensation on your tongue. If something is less tasty because it's - God forbid - nutritious, eat fast and get it all down before the taste kicks in. Don't forget to chew.
2. To avoid in-front-of-the-television snacking, I eat an orange. But I eat the orange very, very slowly. I spend about an hour or longer meticulously cleaning the remnants of the peel from the rest of the orange before I start eating it section by section. By the time I'm done, the snacking window has closed.
3. I close off the food portion of my day by flossing. Again, in front of the television, I do the flossing ritual slowly and meticulously. After all that work, I don't even think about eating anything else before bed.

Warning: While these tricks may extend your life, your spouse may seek to shorten your life so he or she doesn't have to spend another day with his or her nut-bar, orange-peeling, flossing, slow-eating spouse.

Poutine and Energy Drinks

Some people I know swear by poutine and energy drinks as key components of healthy living. To them I say, pish posh.

Poutine is why we haven't heard any threatening noises from French Canada about Separation lately. They have implemented a brilliant strategy of infiltrating the rest of Canada with poutine. When we're all fat and lethargic, they will invade. Much faster than the machinations of separation.

Energy drinks are obviously evil and they don't try hard to hide it. We can wait until several more years of research to find out just how evil, or just cut to the chase and stop drinking them now. Either way, aren't the energy drinks pointless if you're eating yourself into a state of torpor with poutine?

Disclaimer

The advice offered here is for entertainment purposes only and does not represent the beliefs or practices of its Author. The Author does stand by his feelings about poutine, but does not actually believe French Canada is planning to invade. Furthermore, the Author does not actually spend hours on the couch at night meticulously cleaning oranges and his teeth. That would just be weird.