What's My Line?

The prompter was sorely needed. However, despite the two lead characters not knowing a large portion of their lines, the small town Saskatchewan dinner theatre on March 9 was a big hit. With the use of various rural regional references in the dialogue, it was indeed a slice of life.

Although I am greatly biased in my assessment, my son-in-law and my daughter were easily the best performers in the drama, or were at least in the top three. My son-in-law was a striking visual presence, with his acquired black tonsorial and fu manchu. His character portrayal was very pleasing, from his jumping up and down tantrum as the spoiled rich kid character, to accidently knocking himself out, to mistakingly poisoning himself. A delightful performance.

My daughter was said to be out of character. She easily grasped the "clueless" nature of her character, much like the lead in the movie of the same name. It was ditz city on stage as she pranced, jumped and squealed, all with loud enthusiasm. She may have made some parents uncomfortable in the community where she is an elementary school teacher. Don't worry folks; she doesn't act that way most of the time.

I must applaud the community for the very satisfying evening of entertainment. The dinner meal was plentiful and scrumptious, and the "sex in a pan" dessert was wonderful. And the drama, despite some missed lines, was extremely funny. It brought back fond memories of my days in a small community where a bunch of us performed Arsenic and Old Lace, almost twenty years ago.

Attending this drama was a nifty experience, and was easily worth the six hour drive from Calgary.

Bye Bye Bowie

While I was growing up, Bowie Kuhn was the Commissioner of Major League Baseball. For most of that time, I highly admired the man, especially when he vetoed the Oakland A's firesale of three of its stars to the Yankees and Red Sox, because it was "not in the best interests of baseball." However, during my early adulthood onset of cynicism, I shared the critics' distaste for Bowie when he seemingly disappeared from the scene during the early '80s player strike.

For me, a more laughable moment in the Bowie culture was his reaction to Jim Bouton's bestseller Ball Four, wherein Bowie insisted that the incident where inebriated major league ballplayers kissed each other "didn't happen." Ah, the omnipresent, omniscient Bowie.

Nonetheless, Bowie was there. With the exception of the aforesaid baseball strike, he was always there for baseball and for this fan. Love him or not love him, Bowie will be missed.

Cassia's Wedding

Wow, what a beautiful day. No, not the weather. It was a chilly, mostly miserable day, the 4th of March. Wedding guests had encountered blizzard conditions and ice-packed roads in traveling to (or attempting to travel to) the Moose Jaw wedding. No, it was the wedding ceremony, reception and dance that were so beautiful and enjoyable. Why so? Because of the beautiful people involved.

I love my favourite single niece (single until after 4 PM on March 4). She is so vibrant, expressive and full of life. I always feel good about myself, and just feel great in general when she is around. I also share a bond with her, both of us having visited poor countries in Africa in 2006.

My new nephew is beautiful also. He has a great sense of humor and is so loving and supportive to his new bride. I enjoyed his public remarks about why my recent multiple rib fractures had prevented me from being the photographer at the ceremony and reception: "Uncle Marvin had something come up. You can check with him later for the details. It may or may not have had something to do with a toboggan."

The ceremony was lovely. The wedding party all glowed. The large group of pre-school age flower children, Cassia's and Jeremy's nieces and nephews, were crowd pleasers, and most of them made it down the aisle without incident. I was day dreaming somewhat during the worship songs when I noticed the bride with arms extended, singing her heart out. The whole ceremony was moving.

I was also moved to tears several times during the toasts at the reception. Both sets of parents joyfully lamented this watershed family occasion of the marriage of their youngest children. Family members and close friends gave tear-jerking tributes to each other. There was so much love in evidence.

I loved the African motif table centre pieces. Carved wooden giraffes, gazelles, elephants and birds. They were all for sale with the proceeds to go to the Ugandan orphanage where both Cassia and Jeremy worked last autumn.

To replace the practice of tinkling expensive glasses, guests were invited to perform their favourite song to encourage the wedding couple to kiss each other. There was rock and roll with You've Lost That Loving Feeling, nostalgia with Side by Side, a barbershop quartet and a modern rendition of We Are The Barn Crew." But, the most memorable for me was the performance of the William Tell Overture on a young man's cheeks (facial). Intriguing.

It was indeed an interesting and beautiful wedding. Cassia and Jeremy put on an enjoyable show, complete with delicious salads and fantastic desserts. But again, the big draw was the people.

I am so happy for Cassia and Jeremy. They will go far.

Surviving "Suicide Hill"

Who said "Suicide is painless"? Speaking of the hill, that is. The steep slope is just across the Trans Canada from McMahon Stadium.

My cousin told me not to go. After my first successful run down the slope without incident, I refrained from any more descents.

However, with the advent of a roll of duct tape and the re-inflation of our inflatable/deflatable sled, I was game to accompany my sweetheart down the hill. Bad idea.

My famous last words as we took off, "I'm stupid!", served to be prophetic about 5 seconds later. Our sled veered sharply to the left, headed towards not just one, but two ridges. The first ridge was not too eventful, but the second one was much higher, and we were suddenly three feet airborne.

I landed on my side with a sickening thud. Shades of "How the Mighty Have Fallen" (refer to an earlier blog entry, regarding my rapid descent from the back of a camel in Niger, West Africa). But I appeared to be the lucky one.

I glanced over at my wife who was laying motionless on her back a few feet below me on the slope. As I managed to wiggle my injured body closer, I noticed that Connie's face was bloodied and she was not responding to my inquiries about whether she was alright. I was helpless to do anything for her, as my own pain prevented me from getting up. Just then, I was relieved to hear the arrival of help from the top of the hill.

A paramedic trainee and his friend triaged and began focussing on Connie after I assured them that I was okay for now. Connie then regained consciousness and appeared to have movement in all her extremities. Once we regained our total senses (or at least as much sense as I had prior to that last ride, which you might surmise wasn't all that much), our helpers slowly walked us to our car and our friends, Isabella and Jeremy, drove us home.

We continue to mend slowly. Not much you can do for bruised ribs, except for sleeping sitting up on the couch and trying not to sneeze. Connie is fortunate, not only to be alive and intact, but also to be able to recline and sleep. Her hip injury is improving and her facial scrapes make her look tough.

Praise God that Connie and Marvin were not hurt much worse. Despite the pain from the mishap, there is a certain satisfaction we share that we got hurt in the same venture and we both walked away from it. Now we suffer together temporarily, and we can continue to enjoy our future joys and pains together after surviving 28 plus years of marriage.

The obvious question remains: when do we get to go tobogganing on the hill again?



PS: THIS JUST IN: BUSTED

The results from my February 21 x-ray: you guessed it; a couple of fractured ribs. Ouch. Oh well; I am fortunate to have Constance Nightingale living with me.


PSS: THIS JUST IN: SIX PACK

Sextuple ouch. My doctor informed me today, February 24, that I fractured ribs 3 to 8, inclusive. That would be six ribs. He kept congratulating me on doing such a good job. My sweetheart has me on strict immobility now. Sleeping vertically appears to be easier with codeine.

Tribute to Connie, on the occasion of her 50th birthday

What can I say about my lovely wife, my sweetheart? Well, lots. Connie has brought joy to my life ever since the moment we met. It was not love at first sight, but we did have an instant connection through my sister and her uncle and aunt having been schoolmates years earlier at the same college where Connie and I met. Connie and I sat across the dining hall table from each other for an entire week to kick off the school year, and wouldn't you know it, she fell for the guy beside me. However, she later came to her senses with the realization of who Mr. Right really was.

It is neat that Connie and I became friends before we became romantically infatuated with each other. It was the summer after we met that we first exchanged letters, and something just clicked between us. Later on that autumn we had our first date, and I realized then that there was a real magic in the way I felt about this girl.

After working through some hurdles, we became engaged and I really credit God with bringing us together after a period of not seeing each other. When I announced our engagement to my mother, I was told: “Well, Marvin, she really thinks the world of you.” That really sums up Connie's devotion to others.

It was a hoot attending university with my sweetheart. I was so proud of her when she received her first scholarship while I had to be content with ordinary grades. It was also interesting running about campus with this beautiful little woman who looked so young. I remember one of our schoolmates, on my introducing her to Connie, asked if she was my daughter. Through the years of our marriage, I'm sure there have been other times when people wondered a little bit. I have always been okay with that and with Connie outshining me in the classes we took together. In fact, I was fortunate to have her help in my trying to understand the subject matter.

I am grateful for Connie's gift to me of our three precious girls. I appreciate the great job she did in raising these kids while I was so busy with farming and law school. Once I finished my heavy studies, I tried to make up for lost time with my kids by spending every non-working moment with them that I could, but kind of forgot to spend more time with my sweetheart. Despite some problems that resulted, we survived in our marriage and as the kids got older, Connie plunged into her education once again.

I am so proud of her accomplishments in obtaining her education degree and her success in teaching. When her teaching contract ran out, Connie did not dismay, but spent a couple of years finishing her honours in English and nailed down scholarships and funding to pay her own way through her Master's program. Then somehow she talked me into following her to live in a foreign land (sorry, Albertans), and here we are.

When comparing notes on our roles in our respective marriages one time, my brother remarked to me that the women we married would definitely be faithful to these two farmboys. I do appreciate Connie's faithfulness to me. Apart from the occasional Roberto Alomar or Pierce Brosnan lapse, Connie has been a faithful partner and friend. In recent years we went through some troubled waters, but Connie was always faithful and committed enough to me to try to make it work. I love her, admire her and respect her for that.

Now that we are off in La La Land, away from the distractions of kids and kitties, Connie and I have watched our relationship boom again, as each looks out for the other and as we can spend some quality time together. I appreciate all the years that I have been fortunate to spend with Connie. It has been neat to watch her grow and mature as a person. It was an adjustment for her, the eldest of four siblings, to marry the baby of another family, but she has handled it well. It was neat for me, too, how Connie kind of doubled as the little sister that I never had. She also introduced me to a whole new set of younger siblings and terrific parents-in-law that I have been able to enjoy all these years.

What can I say about this amazing person? Connie, I love you and cherish you. You are my best friend. You are always there when I need you. With all my recent disability experiences, you never once suggested that I was lazy or told me to get off my worthless butt (except maybe in jest, or when you thought about the actual net worth of my butt).

You have been a wonderful wife and companion all these years. Thank you for all the socks you have folded, all the delicious meals you have fed me (even some of the interesting earlier ones), for every time when you listened to my problems and concerns and helped me through a situation.

I treasure you. You are so special that, in the words of Billy Talent, “I would have given my life for you.” I will try not to cry, but I want to relate the words of an old song to you:

You are so beautiful... to me
You are so beautiful... to me
Can't you see
You're everything I hoped for
You're everything I need
You are so beautiful... to me

I love you, sweetheart. Thank you for loving me and sharing your life with me.

- Marv

PS: I am looking forward to one day in the future when I can call you "Dr. Connie"

Billy Talent and the beer shower

"You're going to what?"

That's right; to a rock concert, featuring my favourite punk-type Canadien music group, Billy Talent. After all, why wouldn't I go?

I guess I really should blame all this obsession on my youngest daughter. Back in her high school days, when she played soccer and I coached her team, we travelled regularly to the soccer centre on the north side of Saskatoon. Melanie would always welcome the one-on-one time with Dad by inserting her favourite CD into the car player and cranking the volume. As I listened to all this noise, I queried her as to the name of the artist. "Billy Talent", I was told. "Oh", I replied.

Who could have predicted that after the third trip to soccer while listening to the same CD, I was hooked? When Billy Talent was scheduled to perform in Saskatoon thereafter at a small venue, I was determined to go. However, a sudden three-foot snowstorm put a halt to my plans (Actually, I think the weather may have resulted in the cancellation of the concert anyway).

Later in the autumn that same year, Billy Talent was again scheduled to perform in Saskatoon. Alas, I had to be out of town that week, and could not make it. Following that personal disappointment, I never lost my appreciation of their music, and was determined not to miss them again.

And so it was that in October, 2006 I learned that Billy Talent was scheduled to perform in Calgary on January 24, 2007 at the Pengrowth Saddledome. Should I go? How does one actually dither for three months? Finally, I coughed up for a ticket two days before the concert. "You're going to what?"... "Why?"

Granted, the idea of an overweight, balding, middle aged lawyer type dude going to a concert for a current punk group might be hard to fathom, but through the years, quite a number of people have had some trouble trying to understand me. I didn't think it was a good enough reason not to go, just because of what others might think. If you are a fan, go for it, regardless of the age difference.

Wow, what an age difference! Sure there were a few others that were almost as old as me, but they were either working in security or escorting their own children to the concert. Despite my being a couple of generations older than most of the crowd, I didn't receive any negative reactions from others I encountered. In fact, the youthful fans I met were very polite and friendly to me.

Once the concert began, I realized that I should have researched this event more thoroughly. I had no clue who the first warm up band was. I was relieved that a fan next to me knew nothing about them either. Still, I was impressed with the performance of Moneen. Their music was entertaining and the band members played with such enthusiasm. Especially the bass player who never missed a note while repeatedly jerking his head down and up, with his exceedingly long locks flipping down and up in time.

The second group, Anti Flag, were also entertaining. The lead singer sported an interesting tonsorial, partly shaved head and a large long strand from the other side. I liked his message of promoting equality. I am with you there, Pittsburgher. I liked your music too.

Not having researched as to how many warm up bands were to perform, I was expecting my favourites to appear after Anti Flag. However, when the lights came up on the third act, they didn't really look like or sound like Billy Talent. Did I somehow miss the release of a third album? No, I just had not heard of Rise Against. They were also great performers and the audience sang along with their music.

All right, three groups out of the way. When the lights went down again, there was an excited buzz in the audience. Suddenly, we heard a familiar riff and the lead guitarist for Billy Talent appeared in silouette form. That was just too cool. Then the drummer, then the bass player, and finally our lead singer appeared and launched us into an exhiliarating concert. Like the rest of the fans, I stood throughout the concert. I stood there with my hands in my pockets, "singing."

Why the reference to "the beer shower"? No, I did not discover an old bottle of "Body on Tap" shampoo. While I listened through the first three acts, and especially during Rise Against, I felt occasional misty sprays on my head. After my initial reaction of angry disgust, I then realized that this was part of the experience, to be in the line of fire of partially filled plastic cups of beer being hurled through the air.

Also, I noticed a fan to my right in the row behind, who animatedly gyrated, sung and gestured with his right hand through each song of Rise Against. In his left hand he clutched a plastic cup half full of beer, that was soon one-third full, then one-quarter full, but without his taking a drink. My row was the lucky recipient of the occasional splashes of beer.

While Billy Talent performed, I did my best to sing along, mimicking the sounds where ever I could. Now, it wasn't that I wasn't familiar with the music, but I have difficulty figuring out lyrics at the best of times. Nonetheless, I sang on, sometimes reciting gibberish that somewhat resembled the lyrics, and adjusting my voice to falsetto or screeching, as the need arose.

After a few Billy Talent songs, the dude in the row above me presented his hand and we shook hands and underwent some minimal bonding over our love for the group. After another song, he smiled at me and we shook hands again, and he was heard to remark "I like this guy" in reference to the old guy with his hands in his pockets.

Even though I stood out like a sore thumb, it was nice to have made a new friend. However, I seem to have lost track of him ever since he was escorted from the arena during the concert.

The road to the Super Bowl?

After my inglorious head over heels plunge down the steep sand dune, my host "rescued" my reputation by throwing his football to me. I ended up on the flat plain at the bottom of the slope and proceeded to pass the ball to various dune jumpers from our team. For the next 20 minutes I played quarterback and wide receiver, and somehow managed to nail each reception and pass attempt. After awhile, I began making my gradual ascent up the sand mountain.

I kept playing catch with young Mitchell on the way up the slope. Suddenly I noticed a couple of local boys who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere on the slope with us. I motioned to one of them and then threw the ball to him. He had no clue how to catch or throw the football, but he returned it to me. Then I repeated the process with the other Nigerien boy, with the same result. Following this, I crawled over to the boys and demonstrated to them the proper grip for throwing a North American football and let them try it over and over again. Their skills improved the more they attempted throwing and catching.

Later, after we had reached the summit and were about to leave the area, the two boys, one dressed in white, the other in black, resumed playing catch with me. It was neat to see the smiles on their faces, a look of satisfaction of acquiring a skill that these funny North American people kept showing off. I assume that these boys had never seen a football before, and their likelihood of obtaining a football scholarship to the University of Nebraska and eventually making it to the Super Bowl is remote. However, their exposure to a cultural item from the other side of the globe may help them to relate to cross-cultural experiences they may have in the future, even if it is only in their own neighborhood. I know that the experience of sharing my culture with them while witnessing their culture and environment is an experience I will never forget.