Poppies

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Yesterday, I attended a Remembrance Day ceremony at my youngest granddaughter's elementary school. It was an innocent salute to fallen soldiers who gave their lives in service to their country.

The school choir opened with a song about peace, love, and hope, following which we: heard a recitation of Canadian physician, Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae’s rondeau, In Flander's Fields; witnessed the laying of paper wreaths of poppies by student members of the Brownies, Girl Guides, and Scouts; viewed a moving slide presentation on the sacrifice of service men and women; and observed a moment of silence followed by The Last Post.

I was proud to see the children from Junior Kindergarten to grade five respectfully participating in this short but moving memorial tribute; and inspired by the hard work obviously put into this ceremony by the school staff.

The poppy serves as the official symbol of respect and remembrance for soldiers who have given the ultimate sacrifice, as Lieutenant-Colonel McCrae did before the end of WWI. It is fitting that the meaning of his inspired poem and the symbolism of the lowly poppy live on through future generations.

"Red are the poppies
Of the blood stained battlefields

Still giving us hope"

© 2005-11-05 - nhg

Carvepalooza

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Our little lefty literally attacks
her pumpkin at Carvepalooza 2017

Saturday evening, some of the usual participants gathered around my sister's dining room table for an evening of pumpkin carving. This year we nicknamed it Carvepalooza 2017.

Four generations attended, including two men who helped with the heavy lifting; although, only the x-chroma-zones actually did any carving. My mom watched and kept us all company, as four of us dug in to my sister's "home-grown" pumpkins.

My sister carved a creative traditional jack-o-lantern, and her annual mouse-house accomplished with a power drill; my youngest daughter cut out her own hand-print and scraped down the outside of her orange-green pumpkin to a freaky finish; I carved two skeleton hands and spooky eyes into my tall orange canvas; and my youngest granddaughter attacked her pumpkin with enthusiasm, strength and endurance I have rarely before seen in a six-year-old.

At one point, a Bach organ prelude filtered up from the lower level of the house - my brother-in-law practicing for a Sunday church service - providing Phantom of the Opera-like music that somehow seemed totally appropriate to the occasion.

We missed the family members not in attendance this year, but otherwise enjoyed the evening immensely, even the clean-up. As always, the favourite part of the evening is lighting up all the finished jack-o-lanterns and taking pictures in the festive glow: It's always an Ooh and Awe moment.

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This years' jack-o-lantern collection

Kudos to my sister for growing the fabulous pumpkins we carved this year: It's a real accomplishment. And, tonight three of those orange beauties lit up our front porch to greet the youngsters who came trick-or-treating.

Not unlike the warm glow of the jack-o-lanterns in the darkness outside, Carvepalooza is a lovely long-standing family tradition that lights up my heart each year.

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Photo by: Bryan Salisbury

Our New Teen

Our New Teen
Blowing Out Her Candle

It seems only yesterday that my first grandchild came into our lives; and, suddenly this delightful young woman has reached the milestone age of thirteen.

We didn't get to spend her actual birthday with our new teen, but she graced us with her presence one lovely afternoon a few days later.

I'd made her two-dozen chocolate cupcakes with vanilla butter-cream icing, to which I added piped chocolate 13's as decoration; and, she dutifully posed for the traditional blowing-out-the-candle photo.

Aging clearly hasn't changed her, rather, it's enhanced the quirky, loving, intelligent, talented and beautiful woman-child we've loved since her birth. I'm blessed to call her my grand-daughter and wish her the happiest of thirteenth birthdays!

XO  Grama

Our New Teen

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Some happy moments I've shared with Rachel
Clockwise from top left:
- Meeting Astronaut Chris Hadfield,
- Flower Girl at my 2010 wedding
- Wearing a dress I originally designed for her mother
- Visiting the touring Anne Frank museum
- Swimming in our pool

My oldest granddaughter, Rachel is a special joy and very dear gift to all who know her: A loving, spirited, intelligent, thoughtful, and beautiful young woman of whom I am very proud.

Rachel is celebrating her 13th birthday today. I wish her health, happiness, and dreams fulfilled; on this special day and as she continues her journey to adult-hood.

Love always,
Grama

Mug Full of Love

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The mug full of love I received
from grand-daughter Mattie-Belle

Last night, I received a mug full of flowers; and, except for the dandelions, I'm positive they were plucked from my own front garden. The gift giver was my nearly six-year-old grand-daughter, who’s nonchalance was almost comical.

She breezed past me in the kitchen with five flower blooms floating on green packing crepe in a glass mug of water. After pausing briefly to let me catch a glimpse, she placed the offering on a table near where I sit to watch TV.

As she was retreating, I inquired if the flowers were for me, and her reply was a simple, "Yes." She didn't appear to need anything by way of acknowledgement, and the matter-of-fact manner of her gift-giving was refreshing.

Too often, gifts are given with strings attached, and sometimes feelings are hurt if expectations are not met. My grand-daughter's mug full of love came to me freely, out of pure generosity; thank-you and hug she received not withstanding.

I'm in Reader's Digest!

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Nearly six months ago as part of their 70th anniversary celebrations, Reader's Digest Canada reached out to their readers, asking, "What does Reader's Digest mean to you?"

I responded with a submission about my family's history with Reader's Digest, beginning with my dad's "Word Power" training and ending with the publication of my Reader's Digest "Life's Like That" submission in 1999 and its republication in 2004.

Imagine my delight, to discover that my recent submission has also been chosen for publication; and, that this time I'm in Reader's Digest as a 'Reader's Comments' full-page feature: Specifically, the September 2017 anniversary year issue - Page 7.

If you subscribe to Reader's Digest or can pick one up in a local store, I hope you'll enjoy reading my little piece about, "What Reader's Digest means to [me].

Mommy - Daughty Day

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From City of Hamilton Website

This afternoon, daughter Chelsea and I took some much needed time off. We don't often have a chance to get out one-on-one; and, this Wednesday seemed as good as any for what Chelsea calls a Mommy-Daughty Day.

One of the places we like to go during the summer is Wednesday's at Whitehern, where we can enjoy music and bottomless tea or lemonade for $1. This was our first and only opportunity to attend this summer, and I'm glad we didn't completely miss out.

Armed with comfortable folding chairs; we set off for a sojourn in a peaceful urban garden; enjoyment of 1920's era guitar, violin and vocal music; and a refreshing beverage.

Today, Mike and Jill Daley's cheerful tunes rang through the trees and foliage while Chelsea and I enjoyed the ambiance, each others company, and the beautiful vintage garden setting.

Lucky for us, dark storm clouds that threatened to end the afternoon's entertainment early, managed to hold back their raindrops; and, eventually passed right by the Whitehern garden before the lovely concert was over. 

Chelsea and I returned home refreshed and rejuvenated, having once again enjoyed a brief outing, and more ready to take on what life has to offer in the days to come.

Here's to Mommy-Daughty Days! I highly recommend them.

Glen Campbell

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Glen Campbell performing at Hamilton Place in 1983
Photos by Philip Haigh

Glen Campbell
April 22, 1936 – August 8, 2017

The music world has lost a much beloved musician and entertainer; and for me the news of Glen Campbell's passing, though not unexpected, brought back memories of growing up with his music, enjoying watching him in movies, and a memorable chance to see him perform at Hamilton Place, back in 1983.

I expected to be amazed by one of the world's best guitar players and anticipated listening to Campbell perform many of his hit songs; but I was totally surprised to hear him play the bagpipes - And good too!

He played Amazing Grace, Mull of Kintyre, and a couple more bagpipe pieces in addition to many guitar picking and banjo plucking classic fan favourites for his ecstatic audience. Watching all this from 4th-row center-front seats, I remember the evening as one of the best concert experiences I've ever had.

With Glen Campbell's passing, he leaves behind a legacy of music and memories. For me that includes songs like Honey Come Back, and Galveston; movies like True Grit, and my personal favourite fluff piece, Norwood; and of course the aforementioned concert.

Though immortality comes to very few, I think Glen Campbell has a good shot - In my memory, anyway!

Link here for a great Glen Campbell vocal/bagpipe rendition of Paul McCartney & Denny Laine's Mull of Kintyre.

David's Glasses

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My brother, David Ross Hunt (left) and the

Ecuadorian recipient of his eyeglasses (right)
Photos by Nancy Gordon & Barbara Skinner

I write this blog post in honour of my brother, David Ross Hunt, who passed away just before his 20th birthday, an inconceivable 35 years ago today. Losing this smart, generous, talented, hard-working, and tender young man was unbearably hard; and, my mom, my sister and I still cherish his memory, all these years later.

That said, David's optimism would never have stood for a sad tale on this anniversary, so I'll simply relate a positive true-life story about how David's generous belief in organ donation ended up providing the gift of sight - in an unexpected way - to a young man far away on another continent. 

Specifically, when David's intention to be an organ donor - as indicated on his driver's license - was deemed impossible due to the nature of his brief illness, the donation of David's eyeglasses by our mother to Medical Ministry International Canada, allowed David's spirit of generosity to live on.

Family friend and Optician, Barbara Skinner, carried David's glasses with her - separate from the other carefully cataloged eye wear - while on medical missions to Ecuador following my brother's passing. When she finally found a young man who was able to be fitted with David's frames and prescription, Barb took a picture. On returning to Canada, she gave my mother a copy of the picture showing the young man who's life had been changed immeasurably by receiving David's glasses.

Though tragic beyond words, David's untimely passing made it possible for another young man, thousands of miles away, to see well for the very first time in his life; and, it's clear to see in the photos above that David's strong uncommon prescription and sturdy frames made the Ecuadorian recipient very happy, something that would have made David happy, too.

That a simple pair of eyeglasses could link one person's past with another person's future is the sort of legacy of which David would have approved; so, let the spirit of generosity live on!

For more information about donation of eyeglasses, please link to: Medical Ministry International Canada

For an update on current MMIC work in Ecuador, please link to: MMIC Ecuador

The Cat Pen

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Recent conversation on Facebook about a cat raised in the outdoors and his owner who’s given up keeping him indoors, made me think about the cat pen I constructed ten years ago.

Before the pen, I had two cats who were unable to escape from our back yard: One was too clumsy and one was too old to get over the six-foot fence. They had full use of the great outdoors through a cat door in the back wall of our family-room.

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After the senior cats passed, we acquired two young felines who were much more inquisitive and agile. They could jump over any height fence or even the garage to escape from their perceived prison.

I did some research and discovered cat pens on the internet. They looked like a good solution, and since I had the tools necessary for the construction, I set to work. With a few two-by-fours, recycled rolled plastic fencing, deck screws and some serious elbow grease, I built the cats a spacious, safe, entertaining oasis they could access using the existing family-room cat door.

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The cat pen is roomy enough to allow for a human visitor to sit in a deck chair and is shaded by an adjacent wisteria. As time went on, I added ramps and upper levels, so the beasties could get exercise, and look down on the great-wild-world from above. I eventually moved the litter box outdoors, as well, contained in a weather-proof deck box with another cat door installed for access.

All these years later, Louie – our only remaining cat – goes in and out, day or night, all-year-round, safe from other predators and without annoying the neighbours.

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I thoroughly believe that a cat pen is the only way to go when you have a feline friend who truly adores the call of the wide wild world. No doubt about it, you’ll both love it!

150 Years

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Memories from our 5th Annual

Canada Day Street Party & Fireworks

This Canada Day, the 150th anniversary of our country's confederation, friends and neighbours gathered for a 5th annual street party and fireworks display.

For years we had celebrated Victoria Day with a neighbourhood fireworks send up, until someone wisely suggested that we might find the weather better more often in July.

This year's big day was the first since the date switch that we've had to contend with a two-hour rain delay. But, we didn't let that stop the festivities.

Games and music started mid-afternoon, before Doug and I had to nip out to fulfill our part-time work commitments. When we returned, the rain had stopped; so, the games continued while the barbeque was fired up for hamburgs and hotdogs to go with the pot-luck salads, munchies and desserts.

With dusk, came the much anticipated fireworks display and sparklers for the children to cap off another fun neighbourhood Canada Day celebration.

This year's party was extra-special for me because all of my three daughters were in attendance, something that doesn't happen every year. I'm happy we were able to get a photo of the four of us together on the occasion of Canada's 150 years as a country.

I'm also glad we have such great neighbours, with whom we can spend quality time, whether it's a special occasion or not.

Happy 150th Canada!

A Tribute

Ross Allan Hunt
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A number of years ago, I participated as a member of the Hamilton Spectator Community Editorial Board. During this time, I wrote and had published a 700-word article, on a variety of subjects, every six or seven weeks over an eighteen-month period.

Within this format, I was given the opportunity to acknowledge my father, Ross Hunt, on the anniversary of his birth following his passing.

I've often lamented that I didn't write this piece while my dad was still alive. I think he'd have enjoyed this look at how a child's perspective of their parent changes, often in a positive way, as time passes.

I post this article as a tribute, today on Father's Day, as it was published in the Hamilton Spectator on January 15th, 1999.

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Activist got the message out, one person at a time

"While pondering how I was going to begin this personal article, I found myself looking through an assortment of pens, papers and photos that my father routinely carried in his shirt pocket. 

He always carried a collection of papers and photos with him and was often identified as the man with all the pens in his pocket. These important pieces of his life are now preserved in a clear plastic bag, because my dad died in October of cancer. 

Mixed in amongst his pens and mementos, I found my dad's handwritten list of important phone numbers, his lodge membership card, a list of things still left to do, a letter from his cancer specialist urging my dad to continue treatment, and copies of three articles from The Spectator. 

The first newspaper clipping was a copy of an Ann Landers column on how tobacco companies try to hide the lethal dangers of cigarette smoking.

Wisely heeding the warnings when the first Surgeon General's report came out in Reader's Digest more than 30 years ago, my father quit smoking, cold turkey. Two successive collapsed lungs moved him to spend the rest of his life trying to convince other smokers to become habit free. 

To this end, my dad handed out hundreds of copies of the Landers article over many years, to anyone he saw smoking in cars, restaurants, malls or on the street. He'd simply walk up to someone and say he had an article he had found useful and felt they should read. He particularly targeted secondary students, outside schools, and they rarely refused to take the neatly folded sheet of paper. 

The second article found among my dad's pocket possessions was written by former Community Editorial Board member Harry Meester: Printed Jan. 20, 1998, its title was "We don't need a Red Hill NAFTA bypass." 

Meester's article inspired my father. In fact, my dad was so impressed with Meester's insightful comments and admitted change of heart that he began a single-handed effort to make Harry Meester a household name. 

Originally using his own meagre funds, my father made hundreds of copies of this article and began distributing them all over the Hamilton-Wentworth region. 

Using his tried and true method of folding the copies into pocket-sized parcels that were easy for people to keep, he distributed them to people in bank lines, restaurants, offices, stores, parked cars and at public meetings. 

Eventually, he began receiving financial contributions towards copying costs from the people he was meeting and he methodically continued to canvas all six regional communities. 

In all, he handed out more than 1,100 Meester articles and claimed 90 per cent of those he talked to ended up agreeing with him. It is interesting to note that my father never met Harry Meester (although they spoke on the phone, once), but we discovered Harry’s signature in the guest book from the funeral home, after my dad’s memorial service. 

Interestingly enough, the third article is one my dad wrote for The Spectator in May of 1989. Published on the Forum page, “A lesson I almost died learning” was an account of how he was nearly electrocuted as a young boy, the result of an ill-conceived childhood prank. 

He was extremely proud to have his story published. He hoped that knowledge of his experience might save others from tragic misfortune, though I suppose we may never know what effect any of my dad’s actions, over many years, ultimately had on people’s decision-making. 

Nevertheless, as a man who adeptly utilized the possibilities of direct citizen action, my father surely must have been an effective community activist. 

Even when his health failed last summer, my dad sat in his beloved shed, “like a tall, skinny Buddha, waiting for people to come visit and sample some of his wisdom” (in the words of my brother-in-law). 

My dad and I disagreed regularly through most of our years together, he over-zealously trying to protect me and me trying to break free. How interesting that two of the things we eventually found we had in common were a newspaper and a commitment to a cause. 

It is interesting, too, that through these common bonds, we finally developed a mutual admiration for each other’s good qualities and abilities. Like so many other former teens, I eventually discovered (to my surprise) that my “daddy” became much smarter as I got older."

Then and Now

Rachel & Our Wisteria
May 28th 2009 & 2017
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My wisteria took eight years from initial planting to first blooms ... Another eight years later, the fragrant cascading wisteria flowers are blooming more beautifully than ever. 

In those same eight years, my granddaughter Rachel has been blossoming, into a wonderful young woman. 

Photographed together, then and now, the wisteria and Rachel continue to be a visions of loveliness! 

True Selflessness

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White oval ... the white van

Black oval w/white insert ... the police car

Red oval ... my car

Dashed line ... wheelchair route

Today, I was traveling south on John Street North when a red light forced me to stop third in line behind a white service van with ladders on it's roof, and a police car.

The driver of the white van suddenly exited his vehicle and crossed in front of it to the sidewalk. I was unsure of what was happening and briefly lost sight of the man; however, within seconds the van driver reappeared in the middle of the busy intersection, pushing another man in a wheelchair.

I realized then that the wheelchair user had been struggling to legally cross the road, and was in danger from green-lighted traffic heading west. In Good Samaritan style, the van driver not only gave an assist to the Gore Park median; he ensured a successful crossing all the way to the sidewalk on the far south side of King Street East.

By this time, the light had changed again and the van was now blocking quite a few motorists from moving through the intersection. I wondered if the police officer would get involved at this point, but the appropriate answer is, no. The driver of the white van unceremoniously made his way back to his vehicle, hopped in and took off, straight ahead through the green light: The police car turned right at the corner.

The events described here all happened within just one full cycle of the traffic light. Miraculously, no one was hurt, inconvenienced drivers resisted the urge to engage in impatient aggression and horn honking, and I must admit that I was heartened by the positivity of the moment.

The man driving the white service van has my sincere admiration for what can only be described as true selflessness. I’m not sure that I’d have had the where-with-all to do what he did, given the same circumstances. Thankfully, for the sake of the imperiled
wheelchair user, it was the gentleman in the white van's day to shine.

Princess Margriet

Princess Margriet of the Netherlands

flashing a smile as her car drives away

photo - nhg

Today, I had the amazing opportunity to be in the presence of Princess Margriet of the Netherlands during her local visit for a tree planting in Burlington's Apeldoorn Park. She has long been my favourite Royal, perhaps because we share a common place and circumstance of birth: We were both born in Ottawa Ontario Canada while our families were living away from home.

Princess Margriet was born to Queen Juliana and Prince Bernhard while the Dutch Royal family were living in Canada during the WWII Nazi Germany occupation of The Netherlands. The government of Canada temporarily granted international territory status to the maternity ward of Ottawa's Civic Hospital, so that the newborn member of the Royal family would descend solely from and with the citizenship of her Dutch mother.

I was born in the Grace Salvation Army Hospital, many years later, while my parents were living in Ottawa due to my father’s work. They had previously been stationed in North Bay, Haileybury, Cobalt and New Liskeard; drawing the line at a transfer to Kapuskasing, which my mother believed to be too far north to allow for occasional visits home.

Just as Princess Margriet journeyed with her parents to their home in The Netherlands after the war, I travelled with my parents back to their Hamilton home and family. I suspect that Princess Margriet remembers little of life as a very young child in Canada’s capital city: I remember none. That said, our roots run deep, and their growth begins in Ottawa.

The hundreds of thousands of tulips in Ottawa are an ongoing gift from the Dutch royal family and the Dutch Bulb Growers Association, in recognition of the care and consideration given to Princess Margriet and her family during their stay in Canada and the role Canadians played in the liberation of The Netherlands. Seeing Princess Margriet today, surrounded by Apeldoorn tulips and so close to my home, was a chance to come full circle with a piece of history that has always intrigued me.

Princess Margriet, dressed in a bright red suit and wearing a white floral fascinator was lovely and stylish, gracious and humble, and in possession of one of the most engaging smiles I’ve ever seen. I hope she’ll continue to return to Canada for many more years to come.

Princess Margriet of the Netherlands, 
surrounded by Apeldoorn Tulips,
clearly enjoying her 2017-05-16 visit
to Burlington's Apeldoorn Park

photo - nhg

Do You Like Butter?

My grand-daughter checking

to see if her mother, "likes butter"

When I was young, I remember adults used to love to place a dandelion flower under my chin and ask me, "Do you like butter?" And, low and behold, the dandelion would reflect a yellow glow on my chin which supposedly indicated that I liked butter.

The scientific reasoning behind why dandelion’s glow yellow under a person’s chin is complicated; though, I’m told it may be related to pollination or plant reproduction. Whatever the rationale, the brilliant yellow dandelion has been entertaining children and adults, alike, for generations.

I remember loving the magic of the dandelion flower as a child, and I recently had a chance to pass on the dandelion’s enchanted properties to my 5-yr-old grand-daughter. Her delighted first reaction to seeing the yellow glow of the dandelion under her mother’s chin, and then under mine, took me back to years gone by.

Butter, over the decades has acquired a bad reputation, medically, just as dandelions have been the recipient of unfortunate condemnation as weed. More recently, though, butter’s alleged harm is being debunked and the dandelion is aptly heralded for it’s important role in providing pollinator sustenance.

Taraxacum – the dandelion’s scientific name – has been one of my favourite spring-time flowers, since long before I learned about it’s beneficial environmental properties. How lovely that the sunny yellow dandelion still has the ability to entertain children of all ages, and to provide the answer to the age-old question, “Do you like butter?”

My Assistant

FYI - This photo was taken

while the car was safely parked

I've been working a part time job for the better part of a year now, a simple obligation that gets me out of the house for several hours each week and brings in a little extra money.

Familiarity with my route, including safe stopping locations, allows me to perform my duties legally and efficiently; and, I quite enjoy getting out alone in my car, where I can play tunes and sing to my heart's content.

While solitude is one of the perks of this independent contractor position, another benefit is the opportunity to occasionally engage an assistant - specifically, my grand-daughter Rachel.

This young lady has willingly agreed on several occasions to spend time in a car with me; and, is becoming quite adept at record keeping and phone reporting, although the latter must come naturally to a pre-teen with nimble thumbs and available cell service.

The job takes less time when Rachel helps me, as I don't have to stop to record and relay the information I've gathered. Furthermore, my young assistant is learning about working, commitment and accuracy while she shares undivided bonding time.

I thoroughly enjoy this occasional pseudo work relationship. I find my grand-daughter to be an excellent conversationalist who already has a strong and sensible perspective on people and life in general. She also has a quick and witty sense of humour that keeps me in stitches, especially when I’m willing to go with the flow.

I hope we’ll always be able to find time to simply hang out, catch up and tactfully explore each others thoughts and feelings. I think it will enrich both of our lives in immeasurable ways. For now, I’ll take what time I can get, in the car or out, making sure my grand-daughter knows that I’m always available, whenever she needs or wants me.

I'm genuinely encouraged to think that if Rachel continues as she’s started, she’ll grow into an amazingly happy, flexible, mature and confident young woman who will enjoy and enhance life on her own terms.