As I indicated in my last post, my sister Barb passed away at the end of June. It's been a difficult summer. This grieving process has been much different than other experiences I have had with grief.
I've lost many loved ones. My Dad passed away when I was 13. My grandparents are long gone. I've lost aunts and uncles, including some aunts with whom I had a particularly close relationship. Their deaths brought heavy and terrible sadness. I still miss them. My faith gives me great hope, but it does not mean that these deaths do not make me sad.
Grieving for my lost sister, though, has been qualitatively different. For a while, I felt shell-shocked. Even though her death was not unexpected, I could not believe that my sister -- the sister who sat across from the family dinner table from me for years and years -- had died. It would catch me by surprise and take my breath away. My sister.
Parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts -- at some level, you expect them to die. Hopefully not too soon. But it is the natural ordering of things. The older generation gives way to the younger generation. Their deaths cause pain, sometimes intense pain. Their deaths change you, especially if you lose a parent at a young age. Your heart will ache.
My heart aches now. At the same time, I have this nagging feeling like I've lost something very profound but I cannot quite articulate what it is and I think I may have taken it for granted for a long time. A colleague wrote to me that losing a sibling is like losing a limb. Exactly. Losing a sibling is like losing your arm or your leg. A piece of yourself is ripped away and you wonder if you will ever feel complete again. There is this void, this vacuum. Once, I was part of four kids; now there are three of us. How can we go so simply from four to three? One of us is missing.
Our family has gaps in it, but gaps at the level of my generation. Not the older generation, which, although painful, is comprehensible. But this is my generation. This is my sibling, with whom I share a very unique history. There were four people in this entire world that share exactly the same DNA input as a result of the marriage of Art Miedema and Agnes Huisman. Now there are three. And everything feels out of balance as a result.
I simply cannot imagine what it must be like for my mother. I feel for her. I grieve for her, too. How much can one person bear?
As for me, I feel a constant vague sense of loss, an ache that is almost always present. This ache is punctuated by intense feelings of grief that come at unexpected moments. And always the sense that I've lost something, that I'm missing something, that I've misplaced something even. My brain is still struggling to grapple with the idea that my sister is gone, that I have one less sibling. But when this thought crosses my mind, I don't experience shock anymore. Even worse, I experience resignation. Yes, my sister died. I have lost a sister. I'm getting used to the idea, and that is hard, too.
I've been surprised at how often my thoughts go to her. I'll read something and think, "Oh Barb will love this." Or I make a mental note to tell her about some experience I've just had. I did not realize how often my mind records things to pass along to her until now. It's the jolt of realizing that I cannot pass along these stories that has awakened me to how often I think of her each day.
My sister and I were separated by nine years, so we didn't have that sisterly bond of growing up side by side, playing together, sharing each other clothes and so on. She was older, so the experience was more of her telling me what to do, me driving her crazy, and her taking me out on adventures. Our day to day lives were very different, and have been different for most of our lives. Yet there is -- was -- a strong subconscious bond there and a desire to share experiences, stories, and jokes.
My sister's death has also forced me to examine my own life. It was a stark reminder of my own mortality. What choices have I made? Am I content with those choices? Where I am going? Do I really believe all the faith stuff that I claim brings comfort right now? And if I really do believe all that stuff, what are the implications for my own life? When I die, will God say to me, "Well done, my good and faithful servant?" My mind has been occupied, both consciously and unconsciously, with these thoughts.
And then there is the loneliness. Not many people my age have lost a sibling. Not many people know what it is like. My siblings and I haven't talked too much about our experience. Maybe the wound is too fresh. But I have questions and I wish I could ask someone who has walked this road. Sometimes I can talk to my mom, who has lost three siblings. We have had some great conversations -- honest, open talks -- that make me love my mom that much more. Still, it would be great to talk to a peer. Maybe this blog post is partially about filling the need to talk about this grieving process.
People think they know what it is like to lose a sibling. They think that all losses are alike. They don't realize how different the grieving process can be, depending on the context.
I'm grateful to those of my friends who are quietly walking alongside of me. I can say (and have said) to them, "my heart is sad today", and they understand. They don't fill the space up with empty words and syrupy sentiment. They don't try to make it better and they don't try to find silver-linings. They just acknowledge the loss and pain and they walk with me. They are a blessing.
I don't know how long the grieving process will last. I certainly have not been all "sack cloth and ashes" since my sister died. I have good days, even great ones. Still I haven't felt myself for a very long time. Sometimes I can escape for a while. The vague sense of something being amiss is almost always present, though. Mostly, I remind myself that grieving is a natural, healing process. So I let myself feel what I feel because that is the only way to move forward. Henri Nouwen counseled that one should stay with her pain, meaning, don't avoid it. Just feel it and process it. It could take a while.
It should take a while. I've lost a piece of myself.
Thursday, 22 August 2013
Thursday, 1 August 2013
In Memorium: My Sister, Barb Clark
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
I've been thinking about John Donne's words a lot lately. They echo in my heart late at night and early in the morning. Death, be not proud... They are there when I lie awake, thinking about everything that has happened, the great loss our family has experienced, the pain of it all.
On Sunday, June 30, 2013, my sister, Barb, passed away. She had cancer. She long outlived her doctors' prognoses for her, but at great expense, for she suffered a great deal. She fought long and hard. She wanted to live for her family, for her husband and children. But she had primary peritoneal cancer (PPC) and was diagnosed at stage IV; this diagnosis is a death sentence.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
Barb determined that she would simply have to beat the odds. And she did. The average life span of a person with stage IV PPC is about 12 months. Barb lived four years and three months. In March 2012, Barb's doctor told her that there were no more treatment options for her and that she might live another six months. Barb lived another 15 months. Barb did not go gently into that good night. She raged against the dying of the light.
But do not think for a moment that Barb fought so hard because she was scared. No! Emphatically, no! Soon after her initial diagnosis, the words of Question and Answer 1 of the Heidelberg Catechism (which we had all memorized at some point during Catechism classes) became very important and dear to Barb:
Q.1 What is your only comfort in life and in death?
A. That I am not my own,
but belong --
body and soul,
in life and in death --
to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ...
Barb held onto to this most basic tenet of our faith: whether we live or die, we belong to Jesus, and so things will be all right. Of course, "all right" does not mean "not painful" or "not hard". Barb suffered a great deal and her death was not at all an easy one. It was terrible and painful. But Barb was never afraid. She suffered physically and, emotionally, as she mourned that she would not see her children grow up, but she experienced no dread, no fear.
I am proud of how my sister lived and how she died. She ran her race with great strength, perseverance, and raw courage. She chose to fight so that she could be there for her husband and her children. Cancer took her life, but it did not win its battle with Barb. It never stripped her of her dignity, her character, her faith, her love for friends and family. In the end, cancer got the consolation prize: it ended Barb's days on earth but it could not take her Life.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Yes, death's days are numbered. Barb's fearlessness in death affirmed our faith and our hope in Jesus Christ as the Resurrection and the Life. Barb is now Home. She has joined that great cloud of witnesses that cheer us on in our own races. And one day...one day, our family will be together again, laughing and celebrating at the Lamb's great feast.
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more...
'Til then, my dear sister, 'til then.
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
I've been thinking about John Donne's words a lot lately. They echo in my heart late at night and early in the morning. Death, be not proud... They are there when I lie awake, thinking about everything that has happened, the great loss our family has experienced, the pain of it all.
On Sunday, June 30, 2013, my sister, Barb, passed away. She had cancer. She long outlived her doctors' prognoses for her, but at great expense, for she suffered a great deal. She fought long and hard. She wanted to live for her family, for her husband and children. But she had primary peritoneal cancer (PPC) and was diagnosed at stage IV; this diagnosis is a death sentence.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
Barb determined that she would simply have to beat the odds. And she did. The average life span of a person with stage IV PPC is about 12 months. Barb lived four years and three months. In March 2012, Barb's doctor told her that there were no more treatment options for her and that she might live another six months. Barb lived another 15 months. Barb did not go gently into that good night. She raged against the dying of the light.
But do not think for a moment that Barb fought so hard because she was scared. No! Emphatically, no! Soon after her initial diagnosis, the words of Question and Answer 1 of the Heidelberg Catechism (which we had all memorized at some point during Catechism classes) became very important and dear to Barb:
Q.1 What is your only comfort in life and in death?
A. That I am not my own,
but belong --
body and soul,
in life and in death --
to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ...
Barb held onto to this most basic tenet of our faith: whether we live or die, we belong to Jesus, and so things will be all right. Of course, "all right" does not mean "not painful" or "not hard". Barb suffered a great deal and her death was not at all an easy one. It was terrible and painful. But Barb was never afraid. She suffered physically and, emotionally, as she mourned that she would not see her children grow up, but she experienced no dread, no fear.
I am proud of how my sister lived and how she died. She ran her race with great strength, perseverance, and raw courage. She chose to fight so that she could be there for her husband and her children. Cancer took her life, but it did not win its battle with Barb. It never stripped her of her dignity, her character, her faith, her love for friends and family. In the end, cancer got the consolation prize: it ended Barb's days on earth but it could not take her Life.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Yes, death's days are numbered. Barb's fearlessness in death affirmed our faith and our hope in Jesus Christ as the Resurrection and the Life. Barb is now Home. She has joined that great cloud of witnesses that cheer us on in our own races. And one day...one day, our family will be together again, laughing and celebrating at the Lamb's great feast.
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more...
'Til then, my dear sister, 'til then.
Saturday, 11 May 2013
30 Reasons Why I Love, Adore, and Respect my Mom
My mother is bad-ass.
She would not like that I used "ass" on my blog. But she really is bad-ass.
It's almost Mother's Day, so I am going to share 30 reasons why I love, adore, and respect my mom. There are more than 30 reasons, so these are really the top 30 reasons. And she deserves to be honoured every day, not just on Mother's Day. With these caveats in mind, let me introduce you to my mom.
My Mom's name is Agnes. Well, it is actually Aagje. But when her family immigrated to Canada and she started school, her teacher could not say her name. No one outside of the Dutch community could. So my Mom chose a new name, Agnes. She told me that a girl that she knew back in the Netherlands had that name, and she liked it. So she launched a preemptive strike and arbitrarily re-named herself, which was better than the alternative of having the school teacher do it for her, as was the case with her sister, my Aunt Theresa (for whom I am named). Aunt Theresa's name was Trinje. I'm sort of grateful that the teacher re-named her Theresa or I would have been saddled with the name Trinje.
Here are 30 awesome things about my Mom.
1. She lives her faith. She walks the talk. And she made sure that we knew her faith -- our faith -- too. Her relationship with Christ shines through in all she does, and it is her most precious gift to me.
2. She is a smart critical thinker. She reads. She listens. She thinks. And then she tells you her opinion.
3. She is funny, sometimes even intentionally so. She has a great sense of humour. I love that about her.
4. She is wise. When I am willing to listen, she actually has excellent advice.
5. She always made the best cakes for birthdays. No store bought stuff in our home when I was growing up. (We were poor Dutch immigrants; we didn't buy cake.) One year, she drew a Smurf on my cake in blue and white icing. It was awesome.
6. She is pretty. She has beautiful hazel eyes.
7. She has an enormous talent for languages. She can read and write in three languages (English, Dutch, and Frisian). I think she could have learned more if she had had the opportunity.
8. She is cuddly.
9. She has a michevious streak. When I discovered the photo below and showed it to her, she immediately said, "Oh, I was smoking just for the fun of it. It was just a joke." Ironically, she had written these exact words on the back of the photograph: "Just for the fun of it." She would do that, you know. Pose with a cigarette, just for a joke. (She definitely was not and is not a smoker.)
10. She and my Dad held hands when they sat together. In a stoic community where affection was not always shown, this is special.
11. She (and Dad) named me after her sister, Theresa. So I was named after one of the most beautiful, lovely and graceful ladies in history.
12. Mom makes the best pancakes, soup, chocolate chip cookies, pork chops and grilled potatoes I have had. But she cannot cook vegetables without boiling them to death.
13. Mom was horrified when she learned that I planned to keep my family name when I get married rather than taking my husband's name. She said, "What are you, some kind of feminist?" This was not a compliment. The funny thing is that Mom is a feminist, albeit a Christian Reformed feminist. She is a strong, thinking woman. So if I am a feminist, I blame her.
14. Mom is a very creative person and a gifted photographer. She could have easily been a professional writer or photographer. I'm pretty sure that I inherited my creative side from her.
15. Mom has had a lot of grief and heart ache in her life, but she has carried it all with strength, grace, and dignity. She would say, "Well, that just comes from God. God gave me the strength." This gives you a good idea about how my Mom has dealt with the adversity in her life. And she is not bitter about anything that she has endured.
16. After my Dad died, my Mom continued to invite my Pake (Dad's dad) to our home for holidays like Thanksgiving and Easter. She maintained a close relationship with Pake even after she remarried. Because of her, I had a lot of regular contact with him -- an important connection to my Dad.
17. Mom has a good sense of adventure. Whether it is walking in our national parks or riding a camel in Israel, Mom is up for the challenge.
18. Mom brought home the biggest souvenir EVER from Israel: my second Dad, Hank. They met in 1989, three years after my Dad (Art) passed away. They married in 1990. And you know what? They really did live happily ever after.
19. Mom had the courage to start a new life with Hank. She had the courage to move from Ontario to Alberta, to go from city back to the country, and to join a new community far from everyone she knew and loved. I love that she had the faith, strength, and courage to take this risk. I love that she found love again with such a wonderful and honourable man. I love that she embraced her new life and put down new roots. I love that she became part of the local community.
20. Mom keeps a big garden where she grows potatoes, carrots, strawberries, rhubarb, beans, and other stuff. She works in the garden even though some of the plants give her rashes and even though she is engaged in an ongoing battle with the birds for the berries. If I am visiting in the summer when there are berries to be had, she lets me have the biggest, sweetest ones even though I have steadfastly refused over the years to provide any assistance in the garden. (I don't like to touch the dirt or the plants. They are icky. She humours me in this regard.)
21. She wears goofy hats that she has had for decades. Seriously. Decades.
22. Mom has the gift of hospitality. People have always been welcome in our home. Plus, she goes out and visits people. A lot of people. She brings them little treats. She writes letters to people and sends cards. She is thoughtful.
23. Mom is sensitive to people and she is generous. When Mom and Dad took us to Holland in 1980, we met with another family there who had a son, Robby, who was a bit younger than me. We spent a day or two together. At one point, we went into a candy shop. Mom bought all of us kids, including Robby, a bag of candy -- our own bag, which we did not have to share. I remember thinking that my Mom was the most kind and generous mom ever. I still think that.
One year, I had trouble planning my birthday party because I did not want to leave anyone out. Mom accommodated the situation by letting me have two parties so that I could invite everyone. Another year, she let me invite my entire class to my party. I think she understood that I did not like to leave people out. I think she understood that because she herself did not like leaving people out.
24. One time, Mom ironed my PJs because she knows that I love the feeling of freshly ironed clothing.
25. Mom exemplifies the best in what a citizen should be. She is informed about political issues, she votes, and she writes letters. Lots of them. To politicians, to radio show hosts, to companies, and so on. She lives in the public square. And once she scored us a case of cookies after she wrote to a company to complain that she had bought a package of their cookies only to discover that they were all broken.
26. Mom made good on my Dad's promise to let me go to Holland when I was 16. Keep in mind that I did not go with her. I went with my cousin, Brenda, and our Aunt Cathy, my Dad's unmarried younger sister. If you know our Aunt Cathy, you can understand why Mom might have been a bit leery about the whole idea. But she still let me go...and has tolerated my gallivanting around on trips around the world ever since then. Well, we all know where I got my sense of adventure...
27. When I became a runner, Mom and Dad got interested in the sport. They followed my progress and tracked me on race days. It doesn't matter how old you are, you still want your Mom and Dad to cheer for you.
28. My mom ordered lots of copies of my kindergarten photo (and passed them around to family members) even though my kindergarten photo looked like this:
29. Mom has grand-cats. Specifically, Wiley (now sadly departed), Winston, and Dave in my family. My Christmas parcels always include presents for the cats. She brings them toys when she comes to visit. Her letters include a "PS. Give the poesen a scratch behind the ears for us". And once, she left a message on my voicemail that ended as follows:
And for the record, my parents have photos of the grandcats in their office and on their refrigerator. Plus, they never bug me about giving them grandchildren (or about getting married, for that matter). My parents understand that the cats are a part of our family, and they treat the cats that way.
30. Occasionally, my Mom indulges my theory that one of my siblings was switched out at birth and is not really related to us at all.
31. Bonus...Mom has supported my studies over the long-term, even when undergrad led to law school which led to graduate school. Even when I'm sure she wondered if I would ever finish school and if I was crazy for leaving my good Bay Street firm. She stood behind me. She was 100% in my corner. You know why? Because she gets who I am and she understood that I had to keep going back to school.
The bottom line is that she gets me. So when I visit, she has my favourite things in the house. She picks out just the right card for my birthday. And sometimes she sends me some cookies "voor de aardheid". Sure, sometimes she calls me by the names of every other sibling until she finally gets to my name. But that is okay. Because she knows who I am.
She would not like that I used "ass" on my blog. But she really is bad-ass.
It's almost Mother's Day, so I am going to share 30 reasons why I love, adore, and respect my mom. There are more than 30 reasons, so these are really the top 30 reasons. And she deserves to be honoured every day, not just on Mother's Day. With these caveats in mind, let me introduce you to my mom.
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| Me and my Mom. |
Here are 30 awesome things about my Mom.
1. She lives her faith. She walks the talk. And she made sure that we knew her faith -- our faith -- too. Her relationship with Christ shines through in all she does, and it is her most precious gift to me.
2. She is a smart critical thinker. She reads. She listens. She thinks. And then she tells you her opinion.
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| Mom doing her homework for Coffee Break at church. |
4. She is wise. When I am willing to listen, she actually has excellent advice.
5. She always made the best cakes for birthdays. No store bought stuff in our home when I was growing up. (We were poor Dutch immigrants; we didn't buy cake.) One year, she drew a Smurf on my cake in blue and white icing. It was awesome.
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| My first birthday cake. |
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| Mom, shortly before marrying my Dad. Oma told her to buy a new dress before the wedding since she might not be able to afford a new one for a long time once becoming the wife of a poor farmer. This is the dress she bought. |
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| Mom, Dad (Hank), and my nephew Danny. After many years, Mom's still got it. |
8. She is cuddly.
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| Mom with my niece Alyssa. |
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| Mom, smoking "just for the fun of it" |
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| Like mother, Like daughter. Except I'm smoking a cigar. |
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| Mom and Dad. |
11. She (and Dad) named me after her sister, Theresa. So I was named after one of the most beautiful, lovely and graceful ladies in history.
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| Mom (L) and Aunt Theresa (R), the early years |
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| Mom (L) and Aunt Theresa (R), the latter years. Don't they look awesome in those saucy hats? |
12. Mom makes the best pancakes, soup, chocolate chip cookies, pork chops and grilled potatoes I have had. But she cannot cook vegetables without boiling them to death.
13. Mom was horrified when she learned that I planned to keep my family name when I get married rather than taking my husband's name. She said, "What are you, some kind of feminist?" This was not a compliment. The funny thing is that Mom is a feminist, albeit a Christian Reformed feminist. She is a strong, thinking woman. So if I am a feminist, I blame her.
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| Feminist or not, Mom took off her shoes in this wedding picture because she did not want to appear taller than my Dad in their wedding photo. She once commented, "But it wrinkled my dress. Phooey." I'm not sure if this observation makes her more or less of a feminist. |
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| A beautiful photo that Mom snapped of my cat, Wiley. To be fair, Wiley did accommodate her by posing. |
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| Mom calls this photo, "Energy on the Prairies" |
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| Mom sees things that others do not. She took this photo, which she calls "Shadows". |
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| Mom has consistently chosen joy in the circumstances of her life. |
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| Pake, sitting on our porch. |
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| Mom and my nephew Danny in Waterton National Park. |
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| Mom and the infamous camel ride. In a dress! Go Mom! |
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| Mom and Dad (Hank), April 21, 1990. |
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| Mom and Dad celebrating one of many anniversaries. |
19. Mom had the courage to start a new life with Hank. She had the courage to move from Ontario to Alberta, to go from city back to the country, and to join a new community far from everyone she knew and loved. I love that she had the faith, strength, and courage to take this risk. I love that she found love again with such a wonderful and honourable man. I love that she embraced her new life and put down new roots. I love that she became part of the local community.
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| It turns out that farm life suits my Mom. |
20. Mom keeps a big garden where she grows potatoes, carrots, strawberries, rhubarb, beans, and other stuff. She works in the garden even though some of the plants give her rashes and even though she is engaged in an ongoing battle with the birds for the berries. If I am visiting in the summer when there are berries to be had, she lets me have the biggest, sweetest ones even though I have steadfastly refused over the years to provide any assistance in the garden. (I don't like to touch the dirt or the plants. They are icky. She humours me in this regard.)
21. She wears goofy hats that she has had for decades. Seriously. Decades.
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| The hat Mom is wearing in this photo is circa 1980. Please, woman, buy a new hat. |
23. Mom is sensitive to people and she is generous. When Mom and Dad took us to Holland in 1980, we met with another family there who had a son, Robby, who was a bit younger than me. We spent a day or two together. At one point, we went into a candy shop. Mom bought all of us kids, including Robby, a bag of candy -- our own bag, which we did not have to share. I remember thinking that my Mom was the most kind and generous mom ever. I still think that.
One year, I had trouble planning my birthday party because I did not want to leave anyone out. Mom accommodated the situation by letting me have two parties so that I could invite everyone. Another year, she let me invite my entire class to my party. I think she understood that I did not like to leave people out. I think she understood that because she herself did not like leaving people out.
24. One time, Mom ironed my PJs because she knows that I love the feeling of freshly ironed clothing.
25. Mom exemplifies the best in what a citizen should be. She is informed about political issues, she votes, and she writes letters. Lots of them. To politicians, to radio show hosts, to companies, and so on. She lives in the public square. And once she scored us a case of cookies after she wrote to a company to complain that she had bought a package of their cookies only to discover that they were all broken.
26. Mom made good on my Dad's promise to let me go to Holland when I was 16. Keep in mind that I did not go with her. I went with my cousin, Brenda, and our Aunt Cathy, my Dad's unmarried younger sister. If you know our Aunt Cathy, you can understand why Mom might have been a bit leery about the whole idea. But she still let me go...and has tolerated my gallivanting around on trips around the world ever since then. Well, we all know where I got my sense of adventure...
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| Brenda and I exploring our roots in Holland. |
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| Seriously, she and my Aunt Greta let this motley band of travelers go to Holland alone for four weeks. |
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| Years later...I still have the travel bug. |
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| I'm grinning because I am on my way to breaking 2hours in the Half-Marathon. |
29. Mom has grand-cats. Specifically, Wiley (now sadly departed), Winston, and Dave in my family. My Christmas parcels always include presents for the cats. She brings them toys when she comes to visit. Her letters include a "PS. Give the poesen a scratch behind the ears for us". And once, she left a message on my voicemail that ended as follows:
Well, Dad and I are just thinking about you and the cats, of course. We wanted to say hi to you all and we love you and the cats. Well. We love you...but the cats. We like the cats...but you know...It cracked me up. It's okay to say that you love your grandcats, Mom. They certainly love you.
And for the record, my parents have photos of the grandcats in their office and on their refrigerator. Plus, they never bug me about giving them grandchildren (or about getting married, for that matter). My parents understand that the cats are a part of our family, and they treat the cats that way.
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| Wiley (L) and Winston (R) |
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| Dave. This photo is on my parents' fridge. |
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| Is this Maggie or merely a baby posing as Maggie? |
31. Bonus...Mom has supported my studies over the long-term, even when undergrad led to law school which led to graduate school. Even when I'm sure she wondered if I would ever finish school and if I was crazy for leaving my good Bay Street firm. She stood behind me. She was 100% in my corner. You know why? Because she gets who I am and she understood that I had to keep going back to school.
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| Undergraduate convocation. |
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| Call to the bar. |
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| Celebration at my firm for my call to the bar. |
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| SJD (doctoral degree) convocation |
The bottom line is that she gets me. So when I visit, she has my favourite things in the house. She picks out just the right card for my birthday. And sometimes she sends me some cookies "voor de aardheid". Sure, sometimes she calls me by the names of every other sibling until she finally gets to my name. But that is okay. Because she knows who I am.
LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!
Friday, 10 May 2013
International Migratory Bird Day
In honour of International Migratory Bird Day (yes, this really is a thing), I present to you a photo. I call this photo "I know why the caged bird sings", in honour of the poem by Maya Angelou.
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| "I know why the caged bird sings" |
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Maya Angelou
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
I am an Argonaut
I am an Argonaut.
No. Not as astronaut. An Argonaut. Remember the myth of Jason and the Argonauts? Okay, I had to look it up, too. The Argos were a mythic band of sailing heroes. For clarity, I have not entered some bizarre, role-playing myth club. But I have joined a club that shares the Argonaut name: the Argonaut Rowing Club.
Yes, I know. Toronto has a professional football team called the Argonauts. And by "professional", I mean CFL. I also mean 2012 Grey Cup Champion Argonauts!!! I haven't joined those Argos, although I remain a loyal fan. I was also delighted to learn that there is a historical link between the Argonaut Rowing Club and the Toronto Argos. My past as a St. Hilda's Smasher is meeting my present as a member of the Argonaut Rowing Club.
I initially signed up for a Learn to Row program. As a result of problems in my foot (the on-going sage of the fractured metatarsal), I will not be able to run for quite a while. So I need to adapt. I decided to try rowing. As the Learn to Row program draws to an end, I can see the benefits of rowing, especially at a time when I dreadfully miss running. And so I decided "go big or go home". I signed up as a member in the Development Program, which is the next step for a person who has completed the Learn to Row program.
I'll tell you more about rowing soon. But for now, I must tell you that this membership was quite expensive, even for an ex-hockey player who is accustomed to paying high fees for ice time. I had no idea that lake time is more expensive than ice time. My little Dutch heart nearly stopped when I hit the total (membership plus this fee and that fee, HST, etc). (No, I'm not going to tell you how much. Let's just say I am going to row whether it kills me or not because I want to get my money's worth.)
Here are my top ten thoughts after paying the piper a lot of silver and becoming a member of the Argonaut Rowing Club:
No. Not as astronaut. An Argonaut. Remember the myth of Jason and the Argonauts? Okay, I had to look it up, too. The Argos were a mythic band of sailing heroes. For clarity, I have not entered some bizarre, role-playing myth club. But I have joined a club that shares the Argonaut name: the Argonaut Rowing Club.
Yes, I know. Toronto has a professional football team called the Argonauts. And by "professional", I mean CFL. I also mean 2012 Grey Cup Champion Argonauts!!! I haven't joined those Argos, although I remain a loyal fan. I was also delighted to learn that there is a historical link between the Argonaut Rowing Club and the Toronto Argos. My past as a St. Hilda's Smasher is meeting my present as a member of the Argonaut Rowing Club.
I initially signed up for a Learn to Row program. As a result of problems in my foot (the on-going sage of the fractured metatarsal), I will not be able to run for quite a while. So I need to adapt. I decided to try rowing. As the Learn to Row program draws to an end, I can see the benefits of rowing, especially at a time when I dreadfully miss running. And so I decided "go big or go home". I signed up as a member in the Development Program, which is the next step for a person who has completed the Learn to Row program.
I'll tell you more about rowing soon. But for now, I must tell you that this membership was quite expensive, even for an ex-hockey player who is accustomed to paying high fees for ice time. I had no idea that lake time is more expensive than ice time. My little Dutch heart nearly stopped when I hit the total (membership plus this fee and that fee, HST, etc). (No, I'm not going to tell you how much. Let's just say I am going to row whether it kills me or not because I want to get my money's worth.)
Here are my top ten thoughts after paying the piper a lot of silver and becoming a member of the Argonaut Rowing Club:
- Holy crap! Does this membership come with partial ownership of the Toronto Argos football club?
- Sorry cats. There's no money left in the budget to send you to summer camp this year.
- I wonder if the fees include a steroid program.
- For this money, do I get to name a boat?
- I need to find cheaper hobbies.
- At least there is free parking.
- Can I afford a seventh thought?
- Sure it's expensive. But being able to see all the garbage on the bottom of the Lake on a clear day from the club's dock while the local swan terrorizes Canada geese? Now that's priceless.
- These membership fees make Leafs playoff tickets look cheap.
- Membership has its privileges. I hope. I really, really hope.
Friday, 3 May 2013
Alumni Updates
It's that time of the year again: reunions and alumni updates. I am subjected to a regular stream of alumni magazines, and each magazine typically has an "Alumni" section that broadcasts all the great things that the alumni have done, created, and accomplished. Here is a sample of a typical alumni update:
Apparently everyone I went to school with is a pro-star. And if they are not a pro-star, they find a way of sounding like one. For example, being the subject of an episode of America's Most Wanted becomes "was the subject of a documentary about his exploits".
If I could write my own alumni update creatively, this is what my former classmates would learn about my life:
Jane Smith (9T2) was just named CEO of Big Money Corporation. She recently published her third book, "Doing It All and Having Fun!" She was delighted to have won various literary awards for her first two books, and critics are sure that she will "three-peat" with her latest insallation. Jane is married to Mr. Handsome and they have three lovely children, a golden retriever, and a cat, who all get along. In her spare time, Jane coaches a soccer team associated with a local orphanage.
Apparently everyone I went to school with is a pro-star. And if they are not a pro-star, they find a way of sounding like one. For example, being the subject of an episode of America's Most Wanted becomes "was the subject of a documentary about his exploits".
If I could write my own alumni update creatively, this is what my former classmates would learn about my life:
Dr. Theresa Miedema has authored several award-winning publications since graduating. After touring Europe with her band, she has finally settled down in Toronto. She now teaches at a prestigious university while competing in marathons in her spare time. While Dr. Miedema does not have any children, she recently adopted a monkey named BoBo and an elephant named Tethu. The animals live in a sanctuary that Dr. Miedema has built for them in Kenya, where Dr. Miedema has re-invigorated the local economy by starting a green environmental tourism business, fully staffed by local villagers.Of course, the reality is a bit different.
Dr. Theresa Miedema has written several annual Christmas letters to her family since graduating; her grandmother has the letters proudly displayed on her fridge. Theresa also sort-of maintains a blog read by the same grandmother, a handful of friends, and one sibling. Theresa did the usual backpacking through Europe trip after graduation. She now teaches at some unreputable institution. Theresa has no children, monkeys or elephants; however, she does have a whimsical pair of socks that have monkeys on them. She has two cats. She has never been to Africa and she would never start an environmental tourism company because she really does not like nature. She has run three marathons, but her foot is now in a state of permanent fracture, so a change of sports is in order. One of her biggest recent accomplishments is not getting a speeding ticket in over 18 months.You get the picture. It probably explains why I haven't submitted any updates to any of my alumni magazines. But if I did submit an update, I think I would summarize everything by writing this:
Theresa E. Miedema is content.
Monday, 22 April 2013
Peeps: A (mostly) Photo Essay
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| Once upon a time, there were two peeps. I think they were friends. |
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| But then one of the peeps lost his head. Literally. |
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| The other peep made sure the head was gone. Then he started to eat what was left of the peep. |
[Maybe they weren't really friends after all.]
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| The story ends as all peep stories do: when the peep pooping. |
One peep a' pooping.
The end.
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