Letters to Lost Loved Ones – Part 3

We began a series of blogs in September 2022 to honour people in our lives that are no longer with us called Letters to Lost Loved Ones. David started with letters to his late wife, Joyce, and his father, Bob Sr.

In the interim, David moved to Kelowna, B.C. and it’s been challenging for us to share further accounts of our feelings about special departed people so we’ve been slow in carrying on with the series. We, however, have invited others to help augment our work and are pleased to share a letter from one of them.

Paula Hall is a work partner and friend of David. She’s a communications and public engagement specialist and author in Calgary.

Paula wrote letter below to her mom, Joyce Kupchak, on January 18.

We hope other friends, family and colleagues feel comfortable to join us in remembering people who are no longer physically with us but will always be in our minds and hearts.

Dear Mom;

Paula and her, mom, Joyce

Emmanuel brought out the old videos to digitize them this past weekend. Do you remember all the old camcorders we had? The videos went back from before we were married.

The oldest one was about 20 years ago, at my work event at Spruce Meadows, with preschool aged Julianna. Oh, how I loved to do things with you and little Julie, firstborn grandchild. Manny was filming Julie with her balloon sword, while you were talking away behind him, making fun of me – my camera battery ran out, just like it did in France. Just like it always does, for some reason.

Hearing your voice and seeing you in video, holding the babies, laughing, telling me stories, is bittersweet. I can anticipate every word. I remember them like I remember the taste of coffee, so strong, distinct, and unchanging.

The truth is, Mom, the past twelve years have been so much more difficult than I expected. I knew that losing you, my best friend, would not be easy. I knew I would mourn, and always feel empty. But the twelve years brought challenges that I wish I had faced with you. I know that with every one of the seven babies I lost, you would have cried along side me. And with every health concern, every hospital visit with the kids, you would been there to help (if you were able) or to just be support. A phone call or a hug.

I have made sure the kids know who you are. Noah remembers you well, puzzling, cuddling and playing on the floor with him. Violet’s memory is fading, but she holds a few key moments in focus. She remembers you brushing her hair in hospice. Arwen often felt left out, never knowing you, but she has a photo of you on her wall and she knows all the good stories. Little Henry can identify you in her photos, and Dad too, though he has little memory of him. You would get such a kick out of Henry, Mom. All of them, really. They are all so unique, wonderful little human beings.

I hope that you have been hanging around, joining us for events and moments. You promised you would haunt me, but you haven’t yet. Or maybe you have, in the smaller moments. Like when smell Esteé Lauder Youth Dew, and I’m transported back to the big house on 65^th, cuddled up watching Simon and Simon with you. Or when we talk in my dreams and I realize I’m dreaming, then wake up crying.

Well, I have to go pick up Henry from Kindergarten, then the two middles from school. Ari is having a tough time in Jr. High. You were right about needing to be there when they are older, Mom! Go ahead and have an “I told you so” moment in Heaven. I hope our dogs are curled up at your feet while you watch your stories on some Divine Streaming Service, sipping a cup of joe, with too many sugars. Russell will be there soon, too. Make sure you’re waiting for him. He’s a good dog.

Love,

PJ

Letters to Lost Love Ones – Part 2

In September, David wrote a letter in this space to his late wife, Joyce, to begin a series he and Wendy are producing on dealing with loss. That piece marked the six-month mark of her passing. Today, it’s 34 years since David’s father, Bob Olinger Sr. died, so he’s sending his thoughts to his Dad.

We’ll continue the series in the coming weeks. Admittedly, it’s been tough to share personal feelings for loved ones broadly. We hope our letters help others contemplate their losses and find strength. We will also be featuring inclusions from other friends.

Dear Dad,

It’s been quite some time since I’ve written formally to you, though I do think of you often.

As time goes on, I remain very aware of how you helped to shape my life and I know that you continue to influence me from above.

Though I mark your passing every year on this day, it seems even more meaningful today with Joyce’s short illness and death last March. It was a stark reminder of just how precious life is. Unlike with you, I did get to tell her how much I loved her. You were gone instantly and I was three provinces away.

Every time I hear The Living Years by Mike + The Mechanics (https://bit.ly/3HEOA0I), I think of you and the unsaid words I’d love to have imparted on you.

The night you left us all too suddenly, you’d just attended your first NHL game with Bob Olinger Jr., a match between the Calgary Flames and Chicago Blackhawks. Sadly, you never got to see your beloved Montreal Canadiens in person and I have a few times. Alas, our Habs are not doing well again this season and have only won the Cup once since your passing. Maybe next year!

I naturally adopted several aspects of how you lived such as looking out for others. One of the things I learned from observation is to try to balance life, though I know I could have well beyond what I did. You were pretty focused on your job and never found ways to explore pastimes you’d probably have really enjoyed.

I’ve attended many sporting events and concerts and travelled across our country extensively to get more out of life. That I know there was much more to do underlines the importance of not putting off dreams.

The hope is, as each generation passes, we discover ways to emulate the best of those who’ve come before us and see how we can enjoy our time on earth even more.

Joyce and I had hopes of international travel in the coming years. COVID and her illness cut all that short. Ironically, son Peter and his partner, Mara, are in New Zealand as I write. That was a country on our bucket list.

I’ve noticed many more ironies lately. Peter’s been accepted into Vancouver Island University to pursue a teaching degree this fall. You always wanted me to be a teacher. Though I never followed that career path, I did mentor many people in my career, worked within a school system and volunteered for an adult education agency.

I’ve also relocated to Kelowna to be closer to Peter and enjoy a different lifestyle with warmer weather. You didn’t get the opportunity to retire to the place you’d purchased in nearby Westbank. I have connected with some of your brother John’s family to re-establish some missing family linkages.

Dad, I’m pleased I picked up on many of your traits and found ways to live life much more fully. Just as I wonder what Joyce would do in certain situations, I will continue to seek your guidance from the heavens. Please give her a hug for me.

Missing you today and always.

Love, David

Letters To Lost Loved Ones

Joyce and Mica

Back in May, David wrote in this space that our next blog would focus on loss. Today marks six months since David’s wife, Joyce, passed away. Wendy is very familiar with the subject matter. In 2004, she lost four close family members in the span of nine months, including her older brother, Wayne.

We decided to devote this space in the coming weeks to sharing our feelings about loss through letters to our departed loved ones. We’ve invited other friends who want to remember special people to do so in this manner.

Readers are welcome to add their comments to these blogs if they have feelings that resonate with our words.

David begins …

Dearest Joyce,

They say that time flies when you’re having fun. The last half year has, indeed, flown by. It’s also been the worst time of my life. The only relevant word beginning with fu that comes to mind is one commonly associated with an upraised middle finger to cancer.

It still hasn’t sunk in fully. Some days feel somewhat normal as I pretend you’re just away getting more treatment in Edmonton and will return any days. Others are numbing and I feel nearly paralyzed navigating life on my own.

Your condition deteriorated so fast on that saddest of days in March that I didn’t get a chance to say everything that I’d like to have fit in.

I was fortunate to affirm often in your last few months how much I love you. You knew that I always considered you my best friend and the woman I was happy to call my wife for more than 35 years. You were my only true love ever.

Others are not so fortunate. They lose their wife, husband, mother, father, son, daughter, brother, sister or someone else they’re very attached to suddenly and there’s no chance to share feelings like I was able to.

So this isn’t like the verse in Joni Mitchell’s song Big Yellow Taxi … I did know what I had before it was gone (you had to know I’d draw in a music reference when I write to you).

Instead, there was more that I could and should have said.

You did know how proud I was that you’d become an accomplished potter and instructor. I told you early on when you took up the craft that you’d be able to sell your work. Sure enough, you went well beyond that. I was so delighted to promote your sales.

I was not only honoured to have you as a spouse but you were clearly the go-to for Peter as he grew into manhood. I always deferred to you in parenting matters. You were the heartbeat of our family.

There were other times, however, you perhaps didn’t know how much I appreciated you – that you were always there for me, my protector when I needed it the most. You let me be me and I did the same with you. But it wasn’t always like me to let you know what was troubling me.

It would’ve been easier for me to just tell you. You knew when something was wrong. I have to admit I would clumsily try to work through problems, not wanting to bother you.

This is yet another reminder to tell love ones what you feel about them, to leave nothing important unsaid. It often becomes too late.

During the last year, you apologized repeatedly for the impact your disease was having in our home. I only wish I could have shared your pain as you bravely carried on as a once hopeful prognosis turned into notice that your time would be cut short.

That you continued to work until your final days remains inspiring but you were determined not to be defined by your diagnosis.

Though I was surprised by nothing that was said about you at your Celebration of Life, it was heartening to hear tributes from the many lives you touched, whether family, friends, colleagues, clients, or peers in the arts community.

Facebook memories over the last few months have provided both plenty of triggers and moments to reminisce – wedding anniversaries, our birthdays and other annual celebrations, summer vacations, and photos of locations we’d considered as possibilities for our next home.

You’ll be happy to know that I’ve figured out our online banking and bill payments, things you flourished in managing. The next road trip will be difficult without you and your adeptness for navigating and holiday planning. Your adeptness with technology is greatly missed.

It’s bittersweet that I’m carrying forward with our relocation plans.

A favourite photo of you is prominently displayed on our upstairs entertainment unit. I gaze at it often. As I contemplate life and what to do next, I frame my thoughts in terms of WWJD … What Would Joyce Do. I welcome any guidance you can provide from the heavens.

I miss you and will always love you. You will forever be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Love, David

Music Makes The Moment – Revisited

Just over a year ago, Wendy and I co-wrote On The Quest For Purpose where we committed to get back to blogging regularly with a vision of meeting our original goal of using the content from our writing toward a motivational/inspirational book(s).

Well, life continued to get in the way for both of us and, in my case, the diagnosis of cancer for my wife, Joyce, in April 2021, and her passing away in March, took my creative writing mojo away.

Wendy and I met virtually recently and decided we’d renew our pledge to write together again starting with sharing our thoughts on significant losses in our lives, including Joyce’s death.

We’ll do that soon, but I wanted to use this space to honour her. May was always our month for celebration with Mother’s Day, our anniversary and Joyce’s birthday.

Joyce would want me to carry on with this blog project and my professional writing, too. I thought reflecting on some of the music we chose for her Celebration of Life and reception would be a great way to pay tribute.

Consider this Part 2 of a blog I published on May 31, 2010 about what music means to me: https://themuseandviews.wordpress.com/2010/05/31/music-makes-the-moment/

Looking back, some of the songs featured in that blog were incidentally part of the playlist when we paid our respects to Joyce on March 16. Some were tunes by performers we’d seen in concert – Elton John, Fleetwood Mac, and Don Mangan.

Here are my musings on a few of the selections.

Morning Has Broken – Cat Stevens

Joyce originally wanted this song played at our wedding. However, we opted to have a late afternoon.

It’s a song praising the wonders of nature and a new start with the dawn of each day. Joyce loved the outdoors and hiking. She was definitely much more of a morning person than I am.

The song is especially meaningful. Our wedding anniversary is on May 17. We’d have been married 36 years on that date.

Over the years, we moved across the country and returned to Alberta, produced son, Peter, made some wonderful friendships, and enjoyed many travel adventures, including to some concerts, though we never got overseas, sadly.

We’d planned to relocate to Vancouver Island this year. Joyce will be pleased to know some of her ashes have already been spread there.

Stand By Me – Ben E. King

Joyce was always there for me, even when she didn’t agree with me on a course of action.

She lived through a challenging point of my career with me and was not only a supportive wife, but she threw on her employment counsellor hat to help me find solutions.

She showed her strength right up to the last night of her life. Ironically while staff at the Grande Prairie Regional Hospital were rushing to inject pain medication into her, she was repeatedly urging them to find food for her diabetic husband who hadn’t eaten for hours.

Bridge Over Troubled Waters – Simon & Garfunkel

Like the last song, Joyce was my bridge. I always knew I could count on her. I didn’t even need to tell her when I was troubled. She just knew.

Keep Me In Your Heart – Warren Zevon

This song has always brought tears to my eyes. It was written after the musician knew he had cancer so now I have even more reason to feel connected.

Joyce, you will be in my heart forever.

Don’t Stop – Fleetwood Mac

While several of the songs at the Celebration of Life were more introspective, this one’s more upbeat and suits Joyce’s mindset, always finding the positive in situations.

Even in her waning weeks. She continued to talk about relocation plans and was getting listings from realtors in favourite spots.

Joyce’s mission was to be not defined by her diagnosis. She wasn’t, working up until days before her passing, despite being in a lot of pain.

Always On My Mind – Willie Nelson

This song wasn’t on our playlist but I cited it in my tribute. It’s a reminder we can always be better, no matter how much we love someone.

Honourable Mentions

For the music buffs in our readership, here’s the rest of the playlist:

Basket – Dan Mangan

Your Song – Elton John

Here Comes the Sun Again – M. Ward

If you See Her, Say Hello – Bob Dylan

The Night We Met – Lord Huron (featuring Phoebe Bridgers)

I’ll Be Seeing You – Billie Holliday

So Far away – Carole King

Farewell, Not Goodbye

Joyce always said I could throw out a song lyric at the drop of a hat. Well, dear, here’s a couple more for you until we meet again.

I told a friend that I was writing this blog. She mentioned Frank Sinatra’s My Way would be a choice for her celebration. It would’ve fit Joyce, too. I’m in awe of how she managed those last days.

Lastly, Joyce, it seems most appropriate to sign off with Chicago’s Wishing You Were Here.

On The Quest For Purpose

We’ve been writing in this space for nearly 11 years to develop content for an inspirational/motivational book(s) and that remains our focus. There haven’t been many posts in the last couple of years. That’s not because we’ve run out of topics. Far from it.

We’ve both found ourselves wrapped up in life but it’s also a sign there’s ample material to do more than one book, an online publication – or both.

As a way of getting back on track for 2021 and moving towards our goal, we’ve decided to compose our first blog together. We’ve written many complementary pieces and commented on each other’s posts, but we’ve never actually co-authored a blog.

In this post, we’ll discuss knowing your purpose. In the past, we’ve touched on purpose in a couple of different ways, including the concept of living with purpose.

What made you want to write a blog about finding your purpose?

D: It was the quote below that caught my eye and prompted me to suggest to Wendy we write about purpose together. It really resonated with me, partly because it contains my first name but mostly it reflects how I see myself living.

“Work for a cause David, not for applause.
Remember to live your life to express, not to impress, don’t strive to make your presence noticed, just make your absence felt.”
― Grace Lichtenstein, Inside Real Estate: The Complete Guide to Buying and Selling Your Home, Co-Op, or Condominium

It’s not clear who the David is that’s being referenced, but it had me reflecting, once again, on what my role is in life.

W: For me, I’m at a stage in my life where I feel like I’m redefining my purpose. Back in 2014, I departed on the journey of a lifetime. I took a two-year sabbatical and travelled across 18 countries. It was something on my bucket list for much later in life, but a very big goal that I had geared most of my efforts towards preparing for. Having the opportunity to accomplish it 30 years before I intended, coupled with the experiences I had and people I met along the way, left me with some pretty big questions to answer when I got home. Amongst them being, “Why am I here? What is my purpose?”

Purpose is a big topic and takes on varying meanings for different people. What does it mean to you?

D: For me, purpose is having an influence on other people and events to improve situations, better lives. Coming to terms with that has helped me to understand relationships and why things happen in the way they do. It doesn’t always make negative outcomes easier but it can help you move forward, guide you on what to do next and help you determine what you should do to meet goals.

W: I think there are two sides to the meaning of purpose, or rather a more physical purpose versus one’s sense of purpose. You can do something on purpose, meaning intentional, and you can do something with purpose, meaning on point and aligned with your values, aspirations and overall direction in life.

How do you know when you’re on your purpose? What do you do if you feel like you’ve wandered or fallen away from it?

D: I’ve come to realize that I’m a mentor, someone who encourages others to do their best, to consider all the possibilities and to make the most of opportunities, whether it’s as a parent, a husband, a supervisor, a colleague or as a volunteer leader. I’m meant to be a supporter on the home front, in business and in the community – getting behind important causes and lending my skills where they best fit.

On a professional level, that means being a storyteller, whether it’s doing a feature story on an individual or helping an organization shine.

I’m here to be a positive spirit, motivating others to look at the brighter side of life, to connect people and build community.

Ultimately, my purpose is to leave the world in a better place than I found it.

It’s been increasingly easy to identify my purpose by recognizing when I’m not living it –those times when I get drawn into toxicity in online discussions or conversations with people who know they can set me off in person – and do if I’m not careful.

W: I have some very physical/emotional responses I look for to help guide me to ensuring I’m on purpose, especially right now while I’m still defining and refining my direction, the impact I want to make and what I want my life to mean. When I relax more, when something or someone makes me smile instantaneously, when my eyes light up at a suggestion – these are all the tell-tale signs I use to show me I’m on point. I guess you could boil it down to following my bliss. Being on purpose means doing the things and spending time with the people who make me feel the best.

When I’ve wandered off from or fallen away from my purpose, I can feel the discord. I feel tense, uncertain, untrusting, and lost.

How do you find your purpose if you’ve lost it? What advice would you give others seeking their purpose?

D: When I recognize I’m off purpose, I remind myself I’m of more value when I’m aligned with like-minded people, working toward a common goal or finding a new volunteer opportunity. My advice is to take a step back when you feel off and re-evaluate. Even small things like taking my dog for a walk in the middle of the day clears my mind and I’m refocused on what’s important.

W: When I’m feeling off my purpose, I feel awful. That’s when a self-care day often comes into play where I can take some time to step back and breath, pinpoint what’s going wrong. I don’t try and make a plan to change it though. I’ve learned that once I pinpoint the source of what’s pulling me off purpose, I look back for the things and people that make me feel on purpose.

Like David, reminding myself of my value and what characteristics help me align with other like-minded people is especially helpful. If I’m too overwhelmed or distraught by something to get there, I quite literally start with a nap followed by 10-15 minutes of meditation and then some journaling to help me process whatever is going on in my head and give me some much needed perspective to get back on track.  

You get more of what you focus on, right?

Can you have more than one purpose? Or does your purpose change? How do you support that?

D: I’ve reflected on my own purpose as life has changed, from being a husband and father to job changes, individual and team successes, accolades and awards, operating a communications firm, volunteering, and living life, in general.

In more recent years, I’ve had a renewed sense of accomplishing my purpose. When I relaunched my communications consultancy in 2018, some of my initial employees in the late 1990s and early 2000s passed along congratulations and reminded me I’d hired them for their first jobs. They shared their gratitude for giving them a chance.

There’s been great joy in imparting career and life advice to our son and encouraging my wife to pursue greater heights in her pottery hobby.

W: I do think it’s possible to have more than one purpose, but I think they’ll have varying degrees of importance. I think, generally, people have one main purpose (or theme) for what they want their life to be about and then other, more specific purposes come in to play to support that. “Sub-purposes” to play on David’s love of storytelling.

For some people, I think they’ve been blessed with a strong sense of purpose that stays with them their entire lives. For others, I think our purpose changes as we change and grow. I know I resonate more with the latter. My purpose continues to evolve as I deepen my understanding of myself and what I’m capable of.

Supporting an evolving definition of my purpose is literally like trying to make sure the pants I bought 10 years ago still fit… or acknowledging that it’s time for a new pair. It’s, at minimum, having an overall goal or theme for my life and then making my plan of action each day or week to check in to make sure it stills fits. If it doesn’t feel right anymore, I need to determine if I’m off track or if it doesn’t fit and choose my next steps accordingly.

My purpose setting is not like goal setting where it should be quantifiable and measurable. If a person wants to make it that way, that’s up to them. But for me, I feel my way forward where my purpose is concerned and my only requirement is that whatever my decision, it feels good to me. This also requires a good degree of surrender and self-compassion because it’s a continual work in progress and I don’t think it’s one that ever ends.

What are the benefits of having a strong purpose? How about the dangers of not having one?

D: It helps me live with focus and to get back on track when I’ve gotten derailed. Businesses and organizations having values, vision and mission statements by which to live and it’s good to have a compass.

W: Purpose gives me a guiding light to live my life and make decisions by. Much like David, knowing my purpose helps me find the right organizations to work with to ensure I’m doing work I feel good about and identify the kinds of people I want to spend more time with.

I don’t know that everyone feels the same need for a strong sense of purpose. I’m someone who needs to connect into a bigger meaning to find my reason to get out of bed in the morning. Without a strong sense of purpose, I think I run the risk that when I get to the end of my life I’ll look back at it and think, “What a waste.” I want to feel like I have juiced every bit of human experience I can while I’m here.

What about you? If any of the questions above resonate for you to answer, add them to our discussion in the comments below!

What Is Your Vibe?

A few months ago, Larry Arrance, an employment workshop facilitator colleague in Kelowna, B.C., put out this question on LinkedIn: “If you’re not spreading hope, what are you spreading?”

I’ve been pondering that question a lot since then and now is a great time to explore the subject. Co-author Wendy Peters and I have reached the 10-year anniversary of The Muse and Views, created to build content for an inspirational book(s). Larry’s query fits perfectly into our theme.

I asked Larry recently to spell out what his take was on the question. He responded, “For myself, I’ve found hope to be a powerful catalyst to get people to be open to positive changes. A hopeless situation or attitude causes people to take no action because it’s hopeless – so why bother?”

Hope on its own is an empty word unless there is action behind it. If I say, I hope to on holidays next July, there is no chance of that happening without planning a trip, booking accommodations and travel arrangements and setting the time and taking other necessary steps to leave home.

What Larry is talking about is a belief that positive things can and will happen through our own actions and attitudes – and further, that we will exude confidence to others.

As we head into 2020, it’s easy to feel less positive – there is economic, social and political upheaval in our country and around the globe.

However, the late great radio broadcaster Paul Harvey once reminded us, “In times like these it helps to recall there have always been times like these.”

As a communications consultant 20 years ago at this time, I was preparing content for a client in preparation of a potential Y2K catastrophe.

Guess what? Those communications materials weren’t needed. We moved smoothly into the Year 2000 without a global online crisis.

Are we going to get every job we apply for? No. Sometimes that’s a good thing. Do we get every house we put an offer on? No. We are disappointed but then find another and make a home out of it with the friends and family we choose to enjoy it with. Do unforeseen circumstances, good and bad, occur? Of course. How we react either way is what matters.

I appreciate the spirit of a quote by author Louisa May Alcott when she remarked, “Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow them.”

As this author of Little Women alluded to, not everything is going to go our way, whether on the home front or in the workforce. However, how we answer Larry’s question has implications in our personal and professional lives.

Negativity hangs over us like the smoke those of us in Western Canada are all too familiar with from wildfires. It sucks the life out of you and you feel uninspired.

There is a much greater probability of finding success and opportunities if we have a positive outlook and encourage others. If we’re negative and spreading discontent to those around us, the people who come into our lives will tend to be miserable and down on life, too.

Friend Lynsey Dalen has a phrase to describe this: “Your vibe attracts your tribe.”

Lynsey is an inspiring, driven woman who I’ve watched with admiration advance from radio advertising sales to associate advisor at Neil & Associates.

Earlier this year, she also launched Elle Bell Sales Co. which provides online sales training designed specifically for women. In addition to being a wife and mother of two girls, Lynsey is the women’s clothing buyer for S3 Boardshop.

Lynsey responded with tribe line after I posted a meme on Facebook that I told her reminded me of her actions and style. It cited Five Types Of People To Surround Yourself With: The Inspired, The Motivated, The Open Minded, the Passionate, The Grateful.

Indeed, part of your success in spreading hope is having other people to hand your torch to – like-minded people.

I asked Lynsey to share her thoughts on Larry’s question and the Vibe attracting Tribe statement. Here’s what she says:

“I’ve always been a believer in the law of attraction and that you get back what you put into the universe. 

Our energy and our mindset matter because we have the ability to control those things.  We can’t control what happens to us, but we can always control how we respond to those things.  I 100% believe that happiness is a choice and it has to be a conscious one or else it’s too easy to get caught up in what’s happening around us and to soak up the negative energy of others. It’s not always easy to choose happiness but the result is always worth the effort.

That being said, I try to be conscious of the energy I’m putting out to the people in my life.  If I were a negative, pessimistic and discouraging person, those are the type of people I would have in my life because they would feed off that energy.  However, I CHOOSE to be a positive, optimistic and encouraging person and so those are the people I have attracted into my circle.  Your vibe absolutely attracts your tribe and we are all the product of the people we spend the most time with so I think it’s important to choose wisely.  Time is a limited resource and I have zero interest in wasting it!”

I thank Lynsey for sharing her powerful words. There is always hope. Will you join friends like Lynsey, Larry and I to help spread it? Together, we can make a difference.

Make Your Last Ten Your Best Ten

Last September I joined a HIIT (high intensity interval training) gym in Calgary called The 80/20 Hub. Three times a week over the last 6 months, I was through the door at 6am for a hard 45 minutes to start my day. Aside from strengthen our body, the gym’s main coach and owner, Deb Sousa, also encourages us to work our mental muscles, pushing past our own brain barriers to bring us past the finishing line rather than giving in just shy of our goal.

In the final round of our sessions, you’ll often here her words of encouragement:

“Come on, guys! This is it. Your last ten. Make them your best ten!”

Today, I ran my first race in over a decade with the Jugo Juice 10Km race as part of the Calgary Marathon. I’ve been sick the last couple of weeks and not training. As race day drew nearer, I was questioning myself as to whether the race would chase away this head cold, or help it settle in for a longer spell. By Saturday, I had decided it didn’t matter either way. I signed up for the race in January, and whether I was going to walk the whole thing or if I could muster the energy for a jog, I was going to make it through.

When you run frequently, 10km does not seem like a long way to go. Heck, even on a good hike day, my dog Beiken and I can come home with some energy to spare. But I haven’t been out hiking, nor have I been training much in the last 4-6 weeks for this. Towards the halfway point in the race, my breathing figured itself out, but my calves were starting to tighten. Around the 8km marker, they were screaming for mercy. Without endangering myself for a pulled muscle, I slowed my pace, but I kept up the slow jog as much as I could.

Not willing to give up, but definitely feeling like maybe I had done enough and earned the right to walk the last km, Deb’s voice popped into my head. “Come on Wendy, 1km to go. Make your last ten your best ten!” And while I was nowhere near the pace I started with, I persevered in my little jog, picking up whatever steam I could on my way to that finish line.

Like I said, my speed was nowhere near what I had started with. In fact, I don’t think you could categorize me anywhere close to “speedy”. But the mental strength I gathered to make that last km happen when I was ready to take a leisurely stroll through the last 10% of the course brought me into that zone of being at my best.

See, your “best” isn’t always about the same physical measurements. You won’t always beat your previous time or score. For me, it’s more about pushing myself just a little bit further when it would easier to take my foot off the gas and coast through the final stage when I’m “almost” there.

I’ve been coasting a lot lately in many areas of my life. Maybe it’s time to pick up the pace a little and make my next ten, my best ten.

There’s Always a U in Volunteer

“I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do.”

– Edward Everett Hale

I was surprised, honoured, flattered and somewhat humbled last week when I was recognized as a 2018 Outstanding Volunteer at the International Volunteer Day Celebration Breakfast in Grande Prairie.

While I’ve volunteered steadily throughout my adult years, I much prefer being behind the scenes. Just as with my professional life, I’m not shy about taking the stage, but I often joke that I have a face for radio, just not the voice.

Ultimately, my preference is in the doing. It never occurred to me there’d be a community award for something that gives me personal satisfaction, has added to my leadership abilities, and has provided me with countless wonderful friendships.

While I was in the spotlight, I must, in turn, thank the work supervisors and colleagues who first encouraged me to invest personal time in the community. I also extend gratitude to everyone who has served with me along the way to achieve successes together. I appreciate the acknowledgement from Grande Prairie Volunteer Services Bureau and the role it plays in celebrating community volunteers.

Individuals who’ve invested far more time and energy into important causes than I have also motivated me. I would want my own legacy to be that I’ve motivated others to give back in some way.

The quote above illustrates that everyone can offer something back to his or her community. Every contribution will have some impact. Volunteers are the lifeblood of every city, town and village.

There are endless needs and opportunities big and small in every neighbourhood, school, church and municipality.

Some of my volunteer positions have been for a short duration – doing publicity for the 1986 Alberta Senior Games in Grande Prairie. Others have taken a long-term commitment, including my current role for the past five years as Chair of the Grande Prairie Council for Lifelong Learning.

I’ve also promoted musical theatre, chaired a parent council, served on economic development and chamber of commerce committees, worked on the executive of my son’s swim team, and chaired the Grande Prairie Volunteer Services Bureau.

When asked why I choose to volunteer, my response is that I accept opportunities where I see that my involvement will make a difference to an organization or an individual. Over the years, I’ve been able to do both.

Serving as a Big Brother was one of my first volunteer positions. I took my Little Brother on camping trips, tobogganing and to his hockey games. Although this experience was cut short because a change in employment had me moving across the country, I know we both gained from the relationship. It certainly helped prepare me for parenthood a couple years later.

My work with the Council for Lifelong Learning is particularly rewarding. While serving on the Board is a governance role, we have the opportunity to visit classrooms where it’s not unusual to see students from multiple countries learning together as they get a new lease on life in Canada.

The impact of volunteering in Canada has not gone unnoticed.

A report by the Conference Board of Canada this year – the Value of Volunteering in Canada – notes volunteering provides many important services that affect the lives of Canadians—supporting Canadians in need and contributing to sports, arts, cultural, and environmental causes are just some examples.

“Services provided by volunteers not only help to strengthen and empower individuals and communities, but also benefit the volunteers and their employers by expanding their experience, skills, and social and business networking opportunities.

• We estimate that volunteers added over two billion hours to Canada’s work effort in 2017.
• This volunteer contribution is valued at $55.9 billion in 2017—equivalent to 2.6 per cent of GDP.
• If volunteering were an industry, it would employ nearly as many people as those currently working in education.”

Who knows what my next volunteer role will be. Without doubt, community involvement will always be part of my life.

One of my favourite sayings sums up well what volunteering means to me. Winston Churchill is quoted as saying, “We make a living by what we get but we make a life by what we give.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Walking the Talk of Leadership

Many people shy away from community involvement because they don’t see how one person can make a difference. Sexsmith, Alberta, said goodbye Saturday to someone who will leave a powerfully lasting impression on many, including me.

I admired Mayor Claude Lagace greatly.

Claude was not an imposing figure. Nor was he renowned as an orator. He was a man of few words. His actions spoke much louder than talk. But when he did speak up, people listened.

His humility was such that he didn’t want a funeral yet his passion and dedication were so strong that few knew he was battling cancer for the last eight years.

I certainly had no idea when I last saw him in June at a regional municipalities’ event I hosted on behalf of the City of Grande Prairie. Even as his health was waning, Claude was there to lead a delegation from the Town.

I’m glad Claude’s family and Council colleagues over-ruled him about having a service. He worked tirelessly for his residents and represented his own municipality fiercely. At the same time, Claude recognized the importance of initiatives that would benefit residents across the region.

His contributions deserved to be recognized.

He was beloved by colleagues on Council, even those who he waged heated discussions with. Councillor Jonathan Siggelkow told those attending Saturday’s service that, “This is Claude’s town.”

He told me at the reception following the service that it wouldn’t be the same without Claude. “He kept us all together.”

Municipal employees shared that the Mayor treated them as an extension of his family – to the point he’d pull pranks on them – and Chief Administrative Officer Rachel Wueschner said she sees him as a father figure because of the care and example of service he provided to staff.

In her remarks at the service, Rachel noted the Mayor wouldn’t mince words when he wanted to make a point. An “I don’t give a shit” would be followed by a long list of to do’s and he’d be sure to take charge as needed.

“I sometimes would bite my tongue if I felt the town had been slighted because I knew Claude would go on the warpath, even if that meant going to a Minister,” she said.

I’ve worked with elected officials throughout my career as a journalist, employment in school board and municipal communications roles, work in an intergovernmental affairs position, and as a communications consultant.  His class, integrity, character, and respectfulness were second to none.

Claude came across as a humble yet strong leader – one who welcomed you to his community as if beckoning you to his home.

He had a gleam in his eye and a wry sense of humour, credited for helping him stickhandle through arguments with his wife, Noreen.

Rod Masterson, who emceed the service, eloquently explained leadership via scripture.

“The greatest among you will be your servant.”  – Matthew 23:11

Daughters Michelle and Laurie found a meaningful verse and dedicated it to their Father in the memorial card for the service.

A snippet could be equally applied to Claude’s commitment to his community:

“He never looked for praises

He was never one to boast

He just went on quietly working

For the ones he loved the most …”

Claude was Mayor of Sexsmith for the last 11 years and also served nine years on Council.

He was first on the scene during emergencies, whether these be fires, flooding or train derailments and was often the last to leave, even if that meant staying late into the night. He would drive around the community to ensure everything was operating smoothly and took great pride in his role with Citizens on Patrol to help ensure resident safety.

Claude was instrumental in the development of many projects in Sexsmith including the medical clinic, spray park, fire hall and, most recently the Lakeview Seniors Home in Clairmont among countless others. In 2012, he was the recipient of the Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee Medal, for his dedicated service to his community.

Claude was involved in all aspects of the community, big and small. How appropriate that he built the flag stand at the Sexsmith Civic Centre.

As much energy as Claude invested in his community, his family was the recipient of even more devotion.

Twelve-year-old grandson Becker Olson spoke of the influence Claude has had on him: “I always think, “What would Grandpa do?”

I told Councillor Siggelkow that although Claude would no longer be at the Council table, Councillors could be sure their ears would be burning as he influences them from above.

It was only fitting that the video tribute at Mayor Lagace’s service featured the Frank Sinatra song, My Way.

You certainly did do it Your Way, Mayor Lagace and we’re all better for it.

 

 

 

 

 

A Parental Paradox

“It’s the circle of life,” Simba.

That line from the 1994 movie The Lion King comes to mind whenever I think of how our son, Peter, was born just a few weeks after my father passed away on Jan. 28, 1989.

I thought of this Sunday, the 29^th anniversary of Bob Olinger Sr.’s death (photo left). Even after all this time, I still consider how my life has been shaped by my father, either in our likeness or how I chose to be different from life lessons, intended on his part or just from observation.

The entry on my On This Day for Sunday on Facebook six years ago reads: “So, it was 23 years ago about this time of night that we received a call from my older brother that my dad had died just after watching his first NHL game (live), a match between the Calgary Flames and Chicago Blackhawks. I vowed that I would work just as hard as he did, but to enjoy life a whole lot more. I’ve been to my share of professional hockey, baseball and basketball games and a lot of concerts. I’ve worked hard and played hard. When I think of him, I am reminded of the Alice Morse Earle quote, ‘Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That is why they call it the present.’”

Now, Peter is the age I was when Dad passed away and I reflect on what impact I have made on my son. He loves sports and music as much as I do and think he’s learned more about balancing work and life through seeing me putting in longer hours, particularly in the years I operated my business. He’s also kind-hearted and peace-loving. Like his father, he enjoys a good debate and is likely to side with the underdog.

I’m proud of the person Peter become and that he’s forging his own way in the world.

For Fathers’ Day 2012, which fell just after what would have been my father’s 90^th birthday, I wrote this blog, a special note to my Dad: https://themuseandviews.wordpress.com/?s=Father

I was inspired to write this blog after a conversation on Twitter with another avid Blue Jays fan, Jenn Smith, who posted a photo of herself and her dad from 1978. He died suddenly four years ago on Saturday.

“It seems so long ago and, yet, like no time has passed at all. I miss him,” she wrote.

When I shared that I continue to reminisce about my Dad, she added, “It still stuns me sometimes how much of an imprint his passing has left on me.”

Steve West, a communications colleague from Winnipeg chimed in: “17 years this month for me. Always remembered, and honoured. Thoughts are with you both.”

Steve and I would go on to compare notes about our fathers and how the song The Living Years by Mike + The Mechanics brings us to tears every time we hear it as it reminds us so much of aspects in our relationships with our dads.

“The song also reminds us about the importance of saying things to each other “(in) the living years” as we don’t get the chance after someone dies,” says Steve. “So powerful!”

I also noted to Steve and Jenn that while our fathers made great impressions on us, other important people in our lives can have everlasting impacts.

The late Darrell Skidnuk, who passed away in April 2004, was the best man at our wedding. I always admired Darrell for his character, which never wavered, even when battling cancer or facing tough issues on the job. He was a devoted father, loving husband, and community builder.

When faced with dilemmas, I often wonder what Darrell would do, just as I used to think of turning to my father for advice. Sometimes I would go to do so after his passing and then realize he was gone.

Darrell and my Dad are just two salt-of-the-earth people I consider to be great role models.

Here’s to Jenn, Steve and all of you who’ve lost that important go-to individual(s) in your lives. May you always cherish the memories and make those people proud in return.

And here’s to you Dad for continuing to be there in spirit.