Saturday, December 29, 2018

Ron and Judy Plett - How to get traction.

Ron and Judy Plett on a pair of their John Deere tractors.
One of my favourite type of photographs to do is something I call a character shot.  It should look good, but that is not the true objective.  A character shot is something that speaks more about who someone is rather than what they look like or what they happen to be doing at a particular moment.  It speaks to the viewer about what it is that "drives" them or gives them some sense of purpose in life.  If possible, there should also be some metaphorical association present.  That's one of the things that makes them fun; who is this person and how does this photo relate to their character.
The above photograph was taken two and a half years ago at Ron and Judy Plett's farm in Alberta near the Saskatchewan border.  They are sitting on a pair of antique but fully restored and functional John Deere tractors.  Anyone who has ever been around a farm knows you need some significant machinery to tackle some of the course jobs which come with farming.  Although a utility vehicle like a Gator or an ATV comes in handy, they usually don't have the muscle to take care of the larger tasks.  An so, most opt for a tractor.
If you are going to get a tractor, why not get something that you are excited about?  Although there are many models and sizes available, you can also think old school.  It is not so different from someone who needs a car and ends up getting a 1957 Chevy or maybe a 1956 Ford F-100 truck.  They may not have all the bells and whistles of modern machines, but are loaded with character and style.  Furthermore John Deere has played a major role in farming the prairies over the last century; you can see the skeletons of many machines across the province whose rusted remains reminds us of times past.  And so, for Ron and Judy, the dice were cast.
To really understand the picture you have to realize that I photographed it from another John Deere tractor; a larger one which has even more horsepower and capacity than the two in the picture.  That is what has given me the extra height so I could capture the image the way I wanted it.  And so here I was, in a herd of tractors, with their masters at their controls, shooting this wonderful couple.  So, what is it about the photo that makes it a character shot?
Ron, Judy, and their tractors are synonymous with the life they have chosen.  They are content with simple things but insist that they work well.  Whatever they do has their complete attention, but they also know how to enjoy what there is around them.  They are devoted people, not only to the John Deere brand name but to their friends and family.  Sitting on top of the farm machines you get a sense that they are in control and have a plan for the future.  They also both have serious traction; both the tractors and those at the steering wheels.  Ron and Judy have been a significant force in the lives of others, contributing in a meaningful and productive way.  Not only do they farm the land, they have been involved in farming people, the church, and businesses they have been associated with.  And all have benefited greatly from their involvement.
How do you get traction in life?  Be involved, love what is around you, and make a difference.  You don't need a tractor to do it, but it certainly doesn't hurt.

Tuesday, December 25, 2018

Why traditions are important

Sarah, Lianna, and Leanne - with their gingerbread houses
There are many ways to think about things.  Take any subject and two different people at random and you will have differences of opinion on a variety of matters.  Most things are not black and white, but rather shades of gray.  These opinions and beliefs come from experiences and education, much of them because of where we grew up - our family.  These beliefs or ways of behaving often are traditional; previous generations did it a certain way, which is why we do it this way today.  Other times such things may be attributed to more ethereal sources - perhaps something gleaned from the internet or because of a random event.
Now, this is important.  Take any one thing and you can probably find people who will be divided on the issue, action, or thought.  There is such diversity in the world that you can find a variety of ideologies supporting or contraindicating anything.  Sometimes, more often than not, these differences are not celebrated but rather debated, even contested.  Such action leads to segregation,  prejudice, and dark emotions.
The other side of that coin though is what we have in common.  Sometimes it may be as thin as our humanity, other times there may be a great many things; we have more in common than in how we differ.  Focusing on the similarities will bring people together, it helps us celebrate the things we collectively agree on.  Focus on the differences and the results are negative; focus on the similarities and the results are positive.
This is where tradition comes in.  It doesn't matter where the tradition comes from.  It could be new or old.  What matters is that it is something that brings people together - it is a way of celebrating what is held in common.  Tradition brings a connection to history, culture, relationship building, and a sense of who someone is.  Memories are built up and you get a connection to family, friends, and community.  It starts as something simple and becomes a tradition which brings people together and celebrates commonalities.
A  good example of this is the tradition my daughter has of building gingerbread houses with her friends.  They have done it for years, whenever they can get together as a group around Christmas time.  It is a new "tradition," one that is built on commonalities.  It is a time to celebrate friendship and Christmas.  They have many differences, but it is not these things that they focus on.  Rather it is the collective beliefs which they jointly use to further their relationships. 
Traditions bring people together.  They allow people to celebrate commonalities and build memories and identity.  Remind people of this when the "Why are we doing this?" whining takes place.  We do this because we love our family; we love our friends.  We do it because this is who we are, and it is who you are.  I know my daughter is happier and has better relationships because of this gingerbread tradition, and when she is older those memories will stay with her and always be a part of who she is.  Celebrate tradition because it is the right thing to do.

Monday, December 24, 2018

A Christmas Story

Ron and his daughter Merideth
Let me introduce you to my friend Ron.  He is an amazing fellow in many ways, although he would never claim such a status and would downplay any such accolade.  This photo gives a tiny glimpse into his life; one which deserves some recognition even though he would discourage it.
I can not tell you specifics of Ron's childhood, but have heard his story and have to say it is remarkable.  He came though difficult times with odds very much set against him yet developed into a positive family man with a great love for others.  Anyone who knows Ron will tell you about his passion for people and his love for his family.  His daughter, Meridith, has certain challenges and yet Ron insists on being there for her and helping her live a meaningful and functional life with her family and in her community.  Meridith has contributed in a great many ways in her church and has been forefront in plays and in fund raising for the needs of others.
Another thing which I appreciate about Ron is his love of music.  He has been instrumental in bringing southern gospel music groups to Maple Ridge and has been a member of a local gospel group which was active for many years.  He has inspired others, encouraged others, and been an example for others in his devotion to the craft and the art.  How many of us have enjoyed the music he has brought us in one form or another?
Then there is his work.  It might surprise you to find out that Ron worked with flower arrangements at a funeral home near Vancouver.  He did it because he enjoyed it.  It was another opportunity to contribute to his community with his skill set.  He toiled behind the scene, bringing about organization and beauty.  It is symbolic of his life, taking a group of things and putting them together into something awesome and wonderful.  His family, his church, his music, and his job.
Today Ron still finds employment with a group of funeral homes transporting whatever is needed.
Ron recently lost his wife, Nancy, a wonderful woman who shared his passion for family and people.  Although saddened by her passing, he has continued to contribute to the lives of others.  It is a little harder not having her there, but he is determined to continue doing what he believes in.
In many ways the people who touch Ron's life are like the flowers he used to work with; his gentle and loving touch combined with an amazing wit and level of expertise have made the world a more beautiful place.  Merry Christmas Ron!  And thanks for everything.


Saturday, December 22, 2018

How many people does it take to make a pie?

Brennan, Hudson, and Eric making a pie
You know the joke; how many _____ does it take to screw in a light bulb?  Well, this is kind of like that.  How many people does it take to make a pie?
There is something I have discovered with the time I have been given on this Earth.  Relationships are important.  If you want to develop, foster, and expand those relationships you have to spend time with those people.  To spend time with those people you have to make an effort, and it is always a good idea to have fun.
It turns out there are a million things you can do which will help with this, and none of them require anything other than time and effort.  Time alone isn't enough, although without it the bonds maintaining those associations are weak.  It is kind of like making pies.  You can put flour and shortening side by side.  They can be there for days, weeks, even years, but nothing really happened.  They existed together.  That is it.
Effort is the same idea.  A great effort expressed rarely helps but again does not really cement those bonds of care, love, and respect.  The effort can come in many different forms, all of them valuable, but without time they wither the objective.  Again, like pies, you can put the shortening into the flour and mash it around a bit, but the end result will not win you any blue ribbons.
And so to make that pie you have to have the ingredients (the people), you have to fold them together properly (effort) an you have to do it well enough to make a good end product (time).  You just can't make a decent pie without all this.  Of course, we haven't talked about the filling, the baking, the cooling, and the most important part, the eating.
Making pies is a metaphor for building relationships with people that are important to you.  Who is important to you?  Do you spend time with them?  Do you make an effort to get together and do something memorable?  These things are important.  Of course, you only have so many resources available to you, and things like distance, money, and your responsibilities may limit your ability to contribute to the "pie".  But it doesn't mean you can do nothing.  Who is important to you, and what are you doing about it?
This brings us back to the question, "How many people does it take to make a pie?"  The answer: as many as you can successfully manage.  Pies are important, and fun!

Thursday, December 20, 2018

The last paddle


Left:  Keisha enjoying her last paddle
Right:  A much younger Keisha paddling with Leanne
Keisha was a black and tan dachshund; a wonderful dog with an adventurous spirit.  She hated being left behind and was always up for whatever was on the table - both metaphorically and physically.  Walking, bike riding, car rides, squirrel hunting; these were all activities she enjoyed.  One of her favourite things though was kayaking.
Her post was on the front of the boat on a position we used to call the bow-wow.  She was always well behaved, which is why it was not referred to as the poop-deck.  Four paws firmly planted, her sense of balance keenly sharpened, she swayed with the rolling and pitching vessel.  She only ever hit the water once; an evil branch extended its long reach and swept her off.  Once retrieved she resumed her job as figurehead on the prow.
You could not leave her behind.  One of us would be on shore with her, the other out paddling the waves, and she would bark frantically.  It was her job to sit on the front.  Who was at the controls didn't matter.  Once at her post she was in her element.  It was always fun to see her ears flopping about in the breeze; you might expect her to emulate Sally Field in her roll of The Flying Nun at any moment.
Keisha loved all adventures with the family.  She developed breast cancer late in life; surgery removed it but it had already metastasized.  There was nothing to do but love and comfort her and enjoy whatever time was left.  You know how it is.  It was while camping during her last summer that Kathryn (my wife) decided to take her out one last time.
It was a poignant moment for us.  Keisha's last paddle.  She rode in the kayak's cockpit not far from her mommy.  It was difficult to separate the two, with one fighting off the dwindling days and the other coveting what time was left.  Memories of previous days - a happy dog doing what she loved with the people she loved.
We put Keisha down in November of that year.  One of the hardest things either of us have had to do.  To this day we still miss her, her empty post a reminder of her spirit.  Her last paddle engraved in our minds.

Wednesday, December 19, 2018

What makes a family?


Left:  Kathryn, Leanne, Lianne with Marble, Keisha, and Rookie
Right:  Marble, Smudge, and Keisha
There are many definitions of family.  Each definition depends upon how myopic you want to be, what your heritage may tell you, and what your personal experiences are.  Then there are modifiers to the term family, such as "nuclear", "extended", "single-parent", and even "step".  Add to that what the government's position is relative to family law and you have a very diverse understanding of exactly what the heck a family is.
I prefer to think of family as a group of people and animals in my life that I care deeply about.  Yes, you read that right, animals.  Some may have a hard time wrapping their cerebrum around that while others would accept is as an axiom.  The kinds of animals we are talking about are the same ones that live with us and that we care deeply about.  Generally this doesn't include farm animals, pests, fish, or other organisms which can't respond to us with emotional attachment; but it for sure includes cats and dogs.
We have owned 6 dogs since my wife and I married; each one of them I can genuinely say was a member of our family.  Four of them are represented by the pups present in the picture above.  We also owned fish and a hamster.  I can say that the unfortunate death of our fish and hamster did not leave us wallowing in misery, but each dog we lost certainly did.  We loved the dogs, and the dogs loved us.  I don't think the hamster cared either way, and the fish were as cold as, well, you know what.
Then there are the people; they may not be related to you but are considered family members all the same.  Not by the government, not in a legal way, but are a part of your family none the less.  And why not; if pets can be family members why can't other people?  We adopt, foster, extend, and look after people we care about all the time.  A family is what you make it.
I love my family; each animal and person that has found its way into our ever growing circle.  Isn't it great that your family is not a stagnant, unmalleable paradigm restricted by law.  Your family is what you choose it to be, and that is the best definition of them all.

Tuesday, December 18, 2018

Overcoming fear

Kathryn on elevated trail, Hobart, Australia
If you are at all like me, there are things that scare you.  Most of the time those terrifying experiences which elicit so much trepidation are in the background of our psyche - mostly because we avoid situations where we would otherwise encounter an unpleasant situation.  If you are afraid of snakes (you know who you are) you stay off certain paths in the summer.  If elevators are demonically possessed you take the stairs, and if heights fill your heart with terror you are close to terra firma at all times.  Not so my wife.
She is afraid of heights.  Not all heights mind you.  Standing on a step stool is fine; chairs are a little more daunting.  A ladder of any type causes palpations and sheer drops represent certain death.  These things are easy enough to avoid, but even then there are nasty little reminders of how gravity can suck you to certain doom.
A good example of this is the metal grate.  You know, those diamond cut steel plates used for walkways and reinforcing structures.  The problem is there are holes, thousands of them, and you can see through them.  That is their great sin.  It is also true for slats, struts, bars, beams, and so on.  Between the things that support you there is empty space.  It doesn't matter that there is no way your body mass could ever squeeze through that quarter inch hole.  Nor does it matter that the whole structure is over engineered and could support a column of tanks.  Hand rails, ropes, even a husband with a secure hand will not diminish the urge to run for the hills (low hills, that is).
So, it was curious to me why my darling would want to do the excursion to the "Sky walk," a tourist experience near Hobart, Australia where you can walk about the canopy of the trees.  There was everything there an acrophobe would detest.  Ladders, metal grates, and sheer drops all waiting to lead to your ultimate demise.  Yet it was with determination that we would do this.  And so off we went, me strutting jauntily while she crept slothfully, her hands clenching any solid secure object with great tenacity.  And she moved forward.
Now, I must admit to a certain fiendish temptation to hop about, especially to find the tonal frequency of the thing to really get a good swaying rhythm going.  I like being married and I love my sweetheart, so I buried such thoughts deeply away and kept them there.  She plodded along, pushing past her fears and accomplishing this great achievement.  Meanwhile, I am busily going about my business shooting photos and enjoying the awesome views.  Every once in a while I would look back to see her progress; she was doing a great job.
In any quest there comes a point where you have to ask yourself if something is really worth it.  There as an overhang; they called it the cantilever.  It was a wire supported walkway, no solid structure underneath it, projecting out into open space above a river.  I bounced out there joyfully; a truly freeing experience, did a couple of shots and even volunteered to photograph others with their cameras to prove they mastered this pathway to destruction.  All the time, I kept checking to see where my lovely wife was.  Would she master this challenge?
I found her, at the beginning of the cantilever, securely attached to a railing, waiting for me to return from the pathway of death.  She had accomplished a great deal, but nothing short of a heavy winch would encourage her going out there.  That was OK - I was proud of the fact she had done so much, and done it on her own.  What a super effort!
Her goal was simple; don't let your fears prevent you from enjoying life.  Each of us knows our fears, some of them we know are silly (bad luck superstitions may well be amongst the greatest hindrances to human accomplishments), others are very real.  But she set her mind to achieve this thing, and she did.  There was a suspension bridge to cross as well; two in fact - the long one being very impressive.  She successfully faced her emotional doubts regarding its integrity and physics and made the journey.  She was thrilled to have accomplished it, and equally relieved it was done.  At least until the next time.

Friday, December 14, 2018

What a true friend is

Kathryn and Trynie - being silly together
Yes, its Christmas time, and we all know that it is a time for celebration, for holidays, and for being with family and friends.  All good things for sure - and all of these are self explanatory, except for maybe the word friend.  What exactly is a friend?
Well, there are definitions from books and web sites, and then there is the general idea floating around out there about what a friend is.  You can have friends on Facebook, you have your childhood friends and your friends at school or work.  With these definitions we could each say that we have dozens, hundreds, maybe even a plethora of friends.  I think a friend is deeper than what the electronic consensus is, and is narrower than what you could find on paper.  I think a friend is someone who accepts you fully for who you are.
Now, I don't want to dissuade people from being friends, or make it seem like a superficial thing.  What I want is for you to think about those people who accept you fully for who you are.  Those people where, without pretense or sheltering your character, you can be fully who you are.  You can be silly, sad, angry, or hilarious, you can lay your heart fully exposed upon your chest with your deepest thoughts laid bare, and those people will still care about you and enjoy spending time with you.
How many people in my life are there where this is true?  How many people in your life?  And the wonderful thing is that you end up being the same kind of friend to them as they are to you.  True friendship is mutual; it is self sacrificing, it is accepting the other fully for who they are.  Many of the relationships I have are guarded, not because I don't trust people but because we haven't spent the kind of time together and gone through the kinds of things together that are required for true friendship to be developed.  I can say one thing about each of those who are my deepest friends; we all trust each other implicitly and there is no need for explanations.  That kind of relationship comes only with time, through pain, and with trust. 
My deep friends know that I love and trust them.  I hope that yours do too.

Sunday, December 9, 2018

Visiting Jerry and Simone

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Eric and Kathryn visiting Gerry and Simone Schuil
Look back into your past and think about all the people who have made a difference in your life.  As a child you had people who reached your heart and helped you navigate the challenges of growing up.  As an adolescent there were those who you loved and trusted and gave you a place to be safe and feel secure.  As a young adult who was trying to find their way, others accepted you unconditionally into their home and cared about you and taught you that you were valuable. 
Then there is today, a day when you think back to all those who made a difference in your life, in the lives of others.  Gerry and Simone are a couple who did exactly that for me.  There are many of them, and perhaps I will get around to talking about them eventually, but for today I want to say, "Thank you" to Gerry and Simone for caring and for being there when I needed someone.  They made a difference in my life by accepting me with all my quirks and oddities, and there are a few of them, and helped me find my way to where I am today.
We haven't seen them in 25 years; they moved back to New Zealand from where they came, and we have had the good fortune to be able to visit them.  What is amazing about the whole thing is that our relationship is still good; we continued where we left off and have enjoyed each others' company for the last week and a half.
It is strange how time changes people, and yet doesn't change them at all.  We both raised kids, both fostered careers, both served in church and have both seen 25 years pass in what seems like a blink of an eye.  So many more experiences and changes, yet there is something that remains.  Caring.  Real caring.  That's what makes the difference.  It is the same now as it was then, in spite of the time and events, we still care about each other.  I think that is what true friends are all about, don't you?

Saturday, December 8, 2018

Sherman Tank - a personal connection

Charles and a Sherman Tank
My dad was in the Canadian Forces; first with the air force and later with the army.  I spent my formative years growing up in Camp Borden.  It is a military community located north west of Toronto, about half an hour out of Barrie, Ontario.
As a preteen, I embraced all things military.  We would go to Bordon's amazing tank park and pretend we were in battles.  There is nothing like playing on a real tank to pretend that your actually around one.
Although I always was awed by the power and reputation of the German tanks, like the renowned Tigers, it was the Sherman tanks that I always felt a connection to.  They weren't as tough as the heavy tanks marshaled by the enemy, but they did the job and did it well.  The US and Canada had many hundreds of them.  We poured them into battle one after another, and in my mind I was often there with them.
Then, one day, not so long ago, I learned something about my grandfather; my dad's dad.  He was in the Canadian Army during the war.  He fought the Germans on their doorstep all the way to the homeland.  And he did it in a Sherman.
Apparently, so I am told, my grandfather was a landed immigrant to this country.  He came, as many others did, to work the land and raise a family.  He met my grandmother and my father eventually came about.  Then the unthinkable happened; Germany went to war.
Denmark was conquered and in the process my great grandmother, my grandfather's mother, was killed.  That was the only invitation he needed to join the fight.  Although he was much older than the average person joining up to take on the invading hordes, he was not about to let them get away with destroying the family that raised him.
I do not know of any specific stories of my granddad, but I do know that he was in a Sherman tank and that he came back home to raise more children.  Is it possible that, all those years ago when I was playing tank commander, that I unconsciously felt a connection between my granddad and me?  Probably not, but still, to this day, I am very fond of the Shermans, there legacy, and I am thankful that they brought my grandfather back home.