True Love?

True Love?

A few nights ago, I heard a knock at the front door at around 2:00 am. There stood my son and his girlfriend, a thin crust of snow in their hair.

“What happened?” I asked. They smiled weakly and my son replied, “Um … we missed our bus after Karaoke night.”

“So … you walked all the way home?” I noticed his girlfriend was wearing dainty little shoes, the sort you might wear to perform on stage, and hardly suitable for walking two miles in snow.

“In those shoes?”

She smiled broadly and there was a light in her eyes when she turned to look at my son. “He carried me on his back all the way here.”

That’s when I suddenly realized something. My boy might actually be in love with this girl. She was certainly impressed with him.

On the other hand, maybe he’s just a really nice guy and chivalry comes as naturally as youthful bravado to him (after all he is his father’s son). I suspect it runs deeper than that. The look she gave him and the tone of her voice made it plain for me to see that she, at least, was in love with him.

That got me thinking. Am I ready for this? The possibility that my son might have found his life partner. That marriage could be on the horizon. He doesn’t know what he wants to do for a career and even less what he wants to study at college. He’s not ready yet, I told myself. I thought about the pep talks I would have with him.

My biggest question, as a Christian, would be: are they equally yoked, like the biblical “two oxen” going in the same direction? He isn’t ‘on fire’ for God, in the way I would like and neither is she. So it’s accurate to say they are equally yoked but are they going in the right direction? No. But we can pray God will turn them around and they will walk together towards Him.

Or should I counsel my son to break up with her? I sense that in his present spiritual and, likely, smitten condition he would not be amenable to that. Besides, I like this girl. She’s a sweetheart. For now I will just take a ‘wait and see’ approach.

A Family That Laughs Together Stays Together

You’ve probably heard it said that laughter is like a medicine. Well that could be much closer to the truth than people realize. Scientists have proven that laughter raises your level of endorphins, a group of biochemicals in the brain that lower pain and improve your mood. A natural high you could say.

Laughter can certainly lighten the mood of others around you especially if everyone joins in. I enjoy laughing. Some say I have a loud and jovial laugh. I don’t know about that but I do try to find humor in everyday situations usually by employing word-play or puns. I love to manipulate words and phrases that mean one thing but can have a second meaning that when applied to the same situation can either be met with a guffaw or if it’s truly cheesy as in a bad pun, elicit a groan. But even groaned reactions show the word-play has been noted — fun for the punster.

Now imagine, seven or eight punsters in the same room. That can make for a whole lot of laughter (maybe some groans too.) Even my youngest, the eleven year old, can come up with a brilliant play on words on occasion. But they started much earlier than that. I remember one time when my twelve year old was four years old. We were at a twin Drive In at Owen Sound near Sauble Beach. We used to spend an afternoon at the beach and then head over to Owen Sound to watch a couple of movies.

At that Drive In theater you could actually see the movie playing on the second screen, although you couldn’t hear it. The movie playing on the second screen that night was called ‘Bruce Almighty’ and we were watching ‘The Hulk’. While we were enjoying the film, my four year old daughter suddenly said with a grin, “On that screen the movie is ‘Bruce Almighty’ and on our screen the movie is ‘Bruce All Angry’. If you know the story behind ‘The Hulk’, you know that the Hulk’s more mild-mannered alter-ego is Bruce Banner and he transforms into the Hulk when he becomes angry.

We all laughed so hard I almost spilled my coffee in my lap. Out of the mouths of babes eh?

Concussion at Conwy Castle

Conwy Castle
My family of nine resides in Canada. I was born in Liverpool, England and emigrated a week short of my eleventh birthday. When my twenty-one year old daughter (affectionately known as the Princess of Montreal — which is where she lives now) was six months old, my wife and I decided to go to the UK for a three week holiday.

It was going to be a welcome break from the job I hated and a chance for me to show off my beloved home land. The plane flight from Toronto to Bristol in the south of England was tiring because I hadn’t slept the eighteen hours prior and my baby girl was awake and bright-eyed the entire trip, sitting on either my lap or my wife’s .

That’s right, at six months of age my little girl amazed everyone with her ability to sit, back bolt- straight and unwavering for hours on end. But she was a delight and I loved every minute of the flight.

Before Bristol our plane had to land in New Castle in the north of England to let off and take on some passengers. It was a sunny, clear morning as our plane nosed into its descent. First the myriad lakes of England’s northern lake district came into view and then a green patchwork of farms grew increasingly larger (my tiny redhead giggled then and I turned from the view thereby missing the cityscape of New Castle but that was fine with me.)

Soon the plane soared skyward again but (England not being a very big country) the jet no sooner reached it’s zenith and then began it’s descent again. In the forty-five minutes it took for the plane to travel from New Castle in the north to Bristol in the south an astounding diversity of terrain was revealed to us: lakes, farms, villages, moors, forests and major cities. It was one long uninterrupted WOW! moment.

Our time in England in many ways was a smorgasbord of sights and experiences. We stayed in Colerne, Wiltshire for a few days with an Aunt, and visited a town that has been called ‘The Prettiest Little Town In England,Castle Combe, where the original Dr Dolittle film was made and some episodes of the 60s TV series, The Saint and The Avengers. After a few days we rode a train from Bristol to Liverpool in the north of England where we stayed with an uncle.

We had many wonderful kodak moments during our stay in Liverpool and many meals from a local chippy (they were known for their fish and chips wrapped in newsprint but they have a much more eclectic menu now.) While there we visited many historical sites in Liverpool. My uncle Peter took us to the town of Chester and we walked upon a Roman wall that surrounded the city and was roughly two thousand years old. We went to South Port, a busy tourist beach town on the West coast of England.

But I’d have to say the most memorable place we visited (but not for entirely positive reasons) was Conwy Castle in Conwy, Wales. Wales is actually only an hour’s drive from Liverpool.
The castle was built as a fortification to quell Welsh uprisings during England’s occupation in the twelth century. It is medieval and beautiful! Did I mention I love castles? It is an awesome and almost surreal experience to stand up in one of its eight towers and look out upon the wall of the castle extending in every direction to wrap around the entire town of Conwy.

All the while my alert, curious six month old pointed and waived at tourists pushing prams (strollers) carrying infants. At one point she squirmed and let me know she wanted to be taken closer to another little red head that was similar in age that belonged to a mother my wife was chatting with. I accommodated her and bent down, leaning in closer to the child so mine could coo at her face to face.

That’s when someone bumped into me and hard. I knew I was going down but my breath caught because I was terrified my baby and the baby in the pram would be injured by my fall. I turned to flash a helpless glance at my wife who suddenly scooped our little one out of my hands just as the other baby’s mother jerked the stroller out of my path.

I ,on the other hand, went sprawling. Unable to stop my forward momentum my head violently struck an eight hundred year old wall. The next thing I knew, light was being shone into my eyes by a doctor. It was determined I had a concussion and would have to visit the nearby hospital.

They kept me overnight for observation and thankfully the prognosis the next day was that I had no long term damage and I was released. I was so relieved that I had remembered to purchase travel medical insurance and that my stay was short; we were scheduled to fly out of Bristol airport in a few days.

In the next few days we saw more sites in Liverpool including a trip up to the top of the Liver (pronounced with a long ‘i’) building, Liverpool’s premier landmark with its two giant statues of Liver birds.

My uncle Ronnie worked as the heating engineer in the Liver building so we were privy to a view (not experienced by even most Liverpool natives also known as scousers or liverpudlians) of the River Mersey dotted with the ubiquitous ferry boats carrying a steady stream of passengers between Liverpool, Birkenhead and Seacombe.

We soon left the home of the Beatles, and my birth-place, and returned to Wiltshire for a couple of days before flying out of Bristol, again in the daylight, so we could view the same incredible vistas of England’s varied landscape once more.

It was an unforgettable three weeks. I want to do it again now that my little red headed princess is twenty one. Maybe my whole family can go. That would be memorable.