WEEKEND AT THE DRAKE
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As we prepare to settle into what feels like an inevitable 3rd lockdown (or is it the 4th?) here are some images from a trip to the Drake Devonshire Inn a couple of weekends ago when our thoughts were on decompressing from the city, what are we doing for the next meal and shall we order up more tea?
Even though we were less than 200km from Toronto, it felt like we were away. The acts of eating in new restaurants, enjoying the spectacular view looking out into Lake Ontario, doing a little winery hopping and visiting the local alpaca farm was the respite that we were looking for. The quintessential recharging of the batteries.
So here we are on December 17th, a mere two weeks from that weekend, with the announcement today from the Ontario Government on further restrictions. Discussions now are on can we get the rapid test kits in time for returning to work on January 3rd and how can we ensure that we’re all safe.
If nothing else, this pandemic should be teaching us to be in the moment. Yes, it’s a cliche, but this very small part of the world that we call home can seemingly change on a dime. So for now, I’ll look at these images (yes, Alice’s foot is swollen due to a torn ligament) and remember a weekend with no care in the world.
Happy Holidays!
DETERMINATION UP THE WAZOO
I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that I wasn’t just a little proud. During Covid times, my eldest son Maximilian has embarked on a quest to transform his physique. It’s not that he was a slouch before, but something gripped him to put in the work to do something special. To look the way we all, if we had the determination and the time and perhaps a few less decades on the clock, would want to look.
I’ve seen it first hand the hours after hours he’s put into this. It’s not fast and it certainly isn’t easy. It’s not one or two days a week but most of the days of the week., week after week, month after month. And the amount of mostly lean, high protein food this young man can consume is startling. Between him and his younger brother Solomon, half of our fridge is full of high fat, high protein Greek yoghurt.
And to make this all the sweeter, he’s done this from home while finishing the last year of his masters program and most recently, the preparation for his thesis. Impressive to say the least.
But I am the grateful beneficiary of a young man who doesn’t mind having his picture taken, so what more can a dad who likes to take pictures ask for? Max is willing to ham it up and do what’s necessary to show off his hard work. My job is to try to not screw it up.
I posted recently about my ailing mother as well as the birth of my grand niece, two important events in our family. This post is a postcard to Max and his older self. A reminder to him of the year and time we’re living in and how he spent it doing pull ups and stomach crunches and the myriad other gruelling activities to sculpt his body. We can’t stop time, but we can certainly freeze it for a few precious seconds.
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BABY RAINA
My mother is 92 years old and having a bit of a rough time as of late. I can’t think of a better antidote to this stage in her and our lives than the arrival of a new child. A few weeks back we welcomed my niece’s second child, Raina Millie into the world.
Such a sweet little (about five pounds) girl; during the baby naming ceremony which is mostly an excuse for the family to get together, share stories and eat, she slept and ate and I believe there might have been a poop or two. I can’t remember if she cried, if she did, it wasn’t done with much enthusiasm.
It’s been two and a half years since the arrival of Raina’s big brother Elliot. We’re all delighted to have a new family member, someone who will carry on the traditions that came before her. She’ll be told of her great grandmother Ann and great grandfather Milton, but they will be people in faded pictures. Her story will be made from the brave new world we’ve left her. With any luck, she too will have a long and healthy life and she’ll have the chance to have her great grand children pass the torch to their own. And who knows, by then maybe people will live forever.
It’s a great reminder to me of the value of images, it’s proof that we’ve been here and until we live forever, I guess we’ll just have to keep taking them.
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LAST DAY
38 years working for one company is a profoundly long time. I’d venture a guess and say that it’s not the norm any longer, with most young people changing firms at the drop of a hat.
I’ve had the good fortune to have just one company controller at Reliable, his name is Rex. Rex decided to make it a career and retired on June 30, 2021, he started in 1983. That’s a long time ago.
As hard as I try, I can’t really remember much about 1983. But I do know it was the year that I started working for what eventually became my company. At that time Rex wouldn’t have been much on my radar. I was a young sales rep trying to do what sales reps do, I didn’t have the luxury of hanging around the office much. It wasn’t until 1991 when my father passed away that my relationship with Rex started to evolve. He was the guy looking after the books and I was as green as the grass. Thankfully, Rex stuck around, in both good times and bad and there was plenty of bad on the horizon.
The cliche is that it’s another “end of a chapter”. When you’re a company that started in 1955 we can count lots and lots of chapters. They haven’t always had a good ending. I believe this one has. Rex has good health and we were able to hire his replacement long enough in advance that the transition should be seamless. And while Covid restrictions forced us to scale back our celebrations, I think that all in all it was a good day for Rex and a good way to say “thank you and farewell”.
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QUARANTINE
Some of you may know that I participate in a weekly word project on Instagram with a couple of friends called #thiswordthisweek. it’s a bit of a fun thing that we do to help us get through the photographic dry spells. But most importantly in this time of Covid-19, it’s become, at least for myself, a reason to still take pictures.
The word this week is Quarantine, a word everyone is all too familiar with. My first thoughts were to put our masks on and take some pictures of Alice and myself at home, try to make a statement about our hardships. But let’s face it, I go to work everyday, I get to walk outside and go to the market when I need to. It maybe a hardship of sorts but I’ve not been completely isolated. This is not the case for my mother Ann who is 91 years old, who’s been quarantined for the best part of ten months.
This story is not dissimilar to sons and daughters around the globe who have elderly parents. Isolation, fear, loneliness, boredom are words that describe what I’m sure my mother goes through every single day. Her friends are now mostly deceased, her ties are with the few that remain, her sisters and her children.
Her universe is the television and her large print books. She says she is okay but will also admit to the dark parts of being much on her own and no longer being a part of the outside world as before. She misses Sunday dim sum with Alice and her grandsons. She misses going to the mall and buying things that she doesn’t need. She misses her freedom. She misses her life.
My mother’s time cannot be counted in years and decades. Her time and her future are now. We visit every week and bring her food. At the end of the meal is always something sweet, creamy and delicious. When she’s eating her beloved dessert, I believe she’s at her happiest and most content. Perhaps she’s time travelling to a place that is warm and sunny, full of family and friends. The enjoyment she gets out of it is a thing to behold.
The quarantine is not fair to people like my mother. In some ways I don’t think she fully understands what’s at stake when we visit. We keep our distance, we make sure that we’re as careful as possible. Of course simply by being there we are taking a chance, risking her life at the same time as we’re trying to give her back some of her life. Quarantine and Covid-19’s cruel irony.
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STAYING IN
We’re on week one of our second major lockdown during Covid-19. If I’m honest it’s felt pretty much like we’ve been staying in since late March 2020. Yes we had a reprieve this summer (oh what a glorious reprieve that was) but this is now feeling all too familiar. It almost feels natural. That’s kind of crazy.
On top of that it’s January in Toronto and it’s been grey and grey and grey for so long I can’t remember the sun. I do remember a constant stream of beautiful sunny Sunday’s in July and August and even for much of September. Getting out of the city with our road bikes feels like an eternity ago.
Alice and I are debating (negotiating) whether we will still be going to Whistler come March. The latest news in BC is that they don’t want visitors. Yet the mountain is open and they are, like the rest of the world, desperate for business. It’s a tough decision. We’ll figure it out in February but in the mean time I can dream about beautiful British Columbia and those wonderful mountains. And when the sun is shining and the snow is fresh and it’s not too cold, it is what my dreams are made of.
in the mean time, here’s some images from staying in. That’s all I have at the moment.
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