RETIREMENT MEMOIRS

GOING, GOING, G......

2012-01-25T12:25:00.000-08:00

Our lovely home is listed. You can tour with a 360 degree view here.
We have lived here for twenty years.

So many memories were born here.

At first Christine and I were alone in the house.
Then, Jeff lived here while attending university.
Following university in Winnipeg, Cari moved here to live with us.
Brother and sister each in their twenties, living with mom and dad in a spacious home. Their friends came, hung out.

We entertained. Scores of people at a time sometimes and intimate dinner parties on other occasions.
Both Jeff and Cari were 29 years of age when they married their sweet hearts. First Cari to Tim. I can remember Cari on her wedding day, standing at the grand fireplace, and I looking down with admiration and love on my girl who on that day would pledge herself to another man. Gorgeous woman she was then and is today. And now she has given me three grandchildren.
And Jeff, well he was my little boy once, towering over me on his wedding one year later as he expressed his love for Gina. I am so proud of that man, a teacher, a noble profession. And he has given me two grandchildren.

The home would be so much less than it has been if not for Christine. She is the idea person, the visionary, the organization, the generously spirited woman, always a giver and welcoming host. So we have partied and celebrated and laughed and also grieved deeply at times within these walls.
The walls themselves have all experienced different colours for different seasons of our life together. We never thought that we could let this place go. Now we have together accepted that it is time, but that doesn't diminish the tug when nostalgic thoughts surface, frequently.

It will be a wonderful home for someone else. That's what we would like. Some family well suited to enjoy it to the max.

THE NIGHT BEFORE THE NIGHT BEFORE NEW YEAR'S DAY

2011-12-31T10:32:00.001-08:00

It was Grandchildren’s SleepOver Night.On Friday night, four of our five grandchildren were with us. It was designed with bonding in mind for Christine and me and the children, as well as night off for their parents. We went for a rather cold walk at White Rock Beach waterfront. We found that Andy’s Ice Cream Emporium was closed but the children saw him inside, so we turned around and stopped in front. He knows our grandchildren very well and he opened for us, so they all got a pre-supper double cone with sprinkles on top. Then we drove home for pizza.

Following that we had a painting session and each child painted an acrylic painting of a theme of his or her choice, Rainbow, Apples, Rocket, and Truck. And then sleep - wait, not so fast. First there is PJ changes, and then teeth brushing, oh forgot toothbrush so use of fingers, then the read a story, say a prayer, and then lights out, and so begins the talking and laughing, and talking and then finally, silence. And then Kailyn the oldest (11) joins the tribe. She was out with her school class for a party. And 4 year old Kadence stayed awake until Kailyn arrived. Then the two of them chatted in the dark for an hour. And in the morning, Grandma (Nana) made pancakes but not before we did a group shot, well, not including me, the shooter. Grandma and the children, first sad, then elated, and then a great happy memory photo.

CHRISTMAS DAY & THE DAY AFTER

2011-12-25T11:48:00.000-08:00

THEN: We are moments away from the entire clan gathering in our home for a Christmas lunch and then an afternoon of fun, gift giving and going outside for a long walk to tire the kids out, and then a dinner around 5 or 6 pm and then games and conversation etc.

The house is ready to receive our children and grandchildren, and there is something nostalgic happening here, because we are convinced this is our last Christmas here.
We will list the property in January and look for something smaller. After 20 years, there is some attachment to this beautiful place.Who am I kidding? A Lot of emotional attachment!
So Christine is typical fashion has set the tables for all of us, six adults and five children. It is beautiful.
We will have lunch at noon in the kitchen and then a leisurely transition to the tree in the living room and to gift exchanges.

AND NOW: Well, actually, now I can speak in the past tense, because it has come and gone. We sat together and I read from Luke 2 and Simeon's remarks upon seeing the newborn Christ. Then we opened presents. We drag this out and watch each child and adult open a gift rather than do a mad wrapping tear. Children grow antsy of course when it's the adult's turns to open presents.

Finally Christine and I came to the BIG secret, the gifts we had saved until the last. Each of the five grandchildren received identical boxes in which was a several page graphic invitation and disclosure of Grandma's and Grandpa's plan to take everyone to Disneyland during the March school break. As they opened in unison, we asked Kailyn to read the document and each child rapidly turned pages to keep up. It was sinking in that this was real. Then each of them found a green T-shirt with the words, "I'm Going to Disneyland.' We gave each adult a bottle of Bacchus and a 5-day entrance pass to Disneyland as well. We are excited.

Front L-R: Jeff, Kale, Gina, Tim, Kadence, Cari, Kailyn, Rear L-R: Ron, Ryan, Jayden, Christine

Then an afternoon walk outside, and a fantastic turkey dinner which Christine prepared so well. And later, table puzzles done, and games played, and songs sung at the piano, and nibbling and the traditional family portrait. At a mid-night conclusion. A great day of family fun.

Today is boxing day and some necessary cleanup.

RYAN AND ME AT THE ADVENTURES OF TIN TIN

2011-12-21T22:21:00.000-08:00

Today, my oldest grandson Ryan (9) and I saw the opening showingof The Adventures of Tin Tin, in 3D. We were at the Colossus Theatre. One week ago I invited him via an email sent to his mother which she shared with him. His happy reaction was “He’s taking only me?” So we both waited with anticipation. I booked tickets for us through my SCENE points card, so we gained admission at no cost at the gate, FREE. An inexpensive afternoon. My intention was to go early enough to get the best spots in the room. It was a 12:40 pm start so I picked him up at 11:30 am. That meant that we had a little more than one hour. We shared some French fries, $5.00. Then we ordered our bags of popcorn and containers of coke, $23.00.

Ryan Sept 2010

With provisions in hand we received our 3D glasses and entered showing room #11. We were the first ones inside and that was exhilarating. We had already scored, and we climbed to the second row from the projectionist wall. Sat in the middlemost two sets, and waited for 35 minutes. But that meant we saw all of the previews and ads and could get a jump on that popcorn and pop. Ryan excused himself within ten minutes to visit the washroom. Then they did some 3D test previews and were instructed to put on our 3D glasses. Ohhhh! A jet aircraft came flying at us and stopped inside the theatre and hovered over our heads. And then Tin Tin began. What an experience. At first I thought I might get a bit queasy but soon found my 3D legs. Ryan on the other hand found the movement gave him a slight headache so he watched the movie minus the specks. It was a great flick. Half way through Ryan again took a leave to relieve himself. A full litre of theatre pop is a challenge to contain. The movie was a hit with me, good, good, fun. And then when I took Ryan home, he gave me a hug of thanks, and later when I was leaving he was suddenly there beside me hugging me again. Dollars well spent. Which way to the washroom?

OUR LAST CHRISTMAS IN THIS HOME

2011-12-11T22:50:00.001-08:00

Rose House - Our Beloved Home

It's our last Christmas season in this house. We have spent twenty Christmases here, parties of people, family, Christmas Eve sleepovers, Christmas morning gift opening, Christmas day dinners. We will sell our home soon. That's the plan. At our most objective, Christine and I know this is the right thing for us to do. Emotionally, like tonight, we don't feel like proceeding.

The fireplace flames leap with their warmth to reach us where we sit. Christine and I are alone tonight, two weeks before Christmas. The stereo is cranked and playing Handel's Messiah. Our Christmas festivities truly commence with this audit of the scriptural account of God's promised comfort, the revelation of the Comforter and the passion of the Christ who himself could find no one to comfort him on that night of his betrayal and crucifixion.

Today was an event-filled Sunday. A youth pastor was inducted into service at our church. In the afternoon Christine and I toured an open house in a complex of new townhomes. Then for supper we joined our family of children and grandchildren and a number of other children - friends of our grandson Kale who today celebrated his 7th birthday at the Spaghetti Factory.

Twograndsons Jayden and Kale born in the same year with birthdays one month apart,belong to my daughter Cari (and Tim) and my son Jeff (and Gina).

Rose House, we enjoy roses

This has been a good day and yet filled with pockets of varied emotion. And tonight at the fireside I note to myself that we will not be here next year. Rose House will not be ours. We will have sold it and relocated somewhere - a location unknown to us now. But we have always been people who trusted the Messiah, so we will trust Him about this as well.

Christine and I have lived in BC for 21 years. We came from Toronto where we lived for nine years whenI pastored a church in Scarborough. In that church were a couple of elderly women who loved totreat Christine and I occasionally to a dinner out. It was their annualChristmas gift to us to take us for dinner in downtown Toronto and then to a performance ofHandel’s Messiah with the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir and the Toronto Symphony atthe Roy Thompson Hall. Year after year the four of us did this wonderfulevening together. We loved it. Then we moved to BC and since that time over twodecades ago, Christmas in our home has begun with our playing of the CDs of thatoutstanding oratorio.

Handel’s Messiah is an oratorio, notan opera. Handel’s Messiah is a well regarded and popular piece of choral literature and an oratorio is not everyone’s choice of music you have all been exposedto some music from the Messiah. The music is exquisite but the best part for me is thetext because it is Biblical. With most sacred oratorios while the themesmay be biblical, they do not exclusively use Biblical texts. The Messiah does do that, skillfully,brilliantly, movingly. This marriage of words and music can cause listeners totremble in admiration of God. Handel’s Messiah is a reflective commentary onGod’s Promise consisting of Christ’s Incarnation, His Passion and HisResurrection. There are three oratorio parts.The first part emphasizes that"unto us a child is born." The second part from Handel’s Messiah uses. “Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world” (John 1:29). Then the third part is such an encouraging and triumphantreminder of our hope. “I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that Heshall stand at the latter day upon the earth. For now is Christ is risenfrom the dead, the first-fruits of them that sleep” (Job 19:25).

MY LIBRARY - MY FRIENDS - I GIVE THEM AWAY TODAY

2011-11-28T00:00:00.000-08:00

MY LIBRARY - MYFRIENDS - I GIVE THEM AWAY TODAY

For the past 45 years these have been my daily friends, myconstants. They have welcomed me in the mornings when I walked into my office,wherever it was. Many bear my underlines and comments. All of them carry myname inside their covers. And today they lie contained within clean boxes,ready for me to deliver them to a new home, not mine, but new for them. Theyare the volumes of my pastoral library.

My personal library began with a gift, a bestowment of manybooks from my pastor when I was a young man of 21. James Vold was one of the pastorsof Calvary Churchin St. Catharines, the church inwhich I grew up, from boyhood to manhood. He was moving to Philadelphiaand was affirming my decision to study the Bible at college level when heinvited me to his office. There Pastor Vold entrusted me with commentaries andreference books that launched the birth of my library. With each college courseother books were added. By the time I was hired to pastor Calvary Bible Churchin Smiths Falls, Ontario,I had a reasonable working collection of books with which to compose BibleStudies and sermons. Five years there, and then seven years in Peterboroughat Ferndale Bible Church and now my library filled anentire wall of my office. Then I was called to Wishing Well Acres Baptist Church in Scarborough (now called Gracepoint),named after its community. I was blessed with a healthy book allowance and overthe nine years of my pastorate there, I was fortunate to build that librarywith the finest of reference books. The Reformation Bookstore was owned andoperated by an astute gentleman, a prolific reader, whose shelves were filledonly with the most helpful volumes, old masters as well as newer editions. Iwould call ahead to tell him what I needed and when I arrived he would have astack of books from which I could choose the several I found most helpful. ThenI came to Cloverdale Baptist Church where I pastored for tenyears all the while growing my library, giving some volumes away and addingothers. And I concluded my formal ministry career with six years as thepresident of the Evangelical Free Church of Canada (EFCC), whose home office ishoused in the Fosmark Buildingon the campus of the Trinity Western University.

Upon retirement three years ago, I found my double doorcloset of my study was the only space in which I could shelve my library. So myfriends sat in rows, clean, dry and waiting for the less than regular times Imight need one or two of them. And now, assured that we, Christine and me, willsell this home and move to something smaller, it is obvious to me that I willnot have room for my library of ministry associates. I have asked young pastorsoccasionally whether they might be interested in having them. The response hasbeen underwhelming because many pastors already have a library and they want only certain volumes that supplement their collection and other pastors are accustomed to e-collections. I preferred to gift the entire library. So Idiscussed giving my entire collection to a Bible College called Christ for the Nations, where because their own library is small and they are seekingaccreditation and therefore must enlarge their collection, my books are awelcome addition. They will be useful again. That gives me pleasure. But is itever difficult for me to let them go. I will pray a dedicatory prayer this morning.

I PREACHED AT CARBERRY YEARS AGO

2011-11-16T06:26:00.000-08:00

I visited Carberry a couple of times when I served as President of the Evangelical Free Churches of Canada.
Carberry, Manitoba is a rural farming community outside of Winnipeg. It's located in the prehistoric Upper Assiniboine Delta which is composed of deposits from the glacial spillway which drained meltwater from the receding Laurentian Ice Sheet by way of the Qu'Appelle Channel. Near Carberry, as it moved east the water slowed and delta marshes occurred, which allowed finer particles to settle forming the fertile Carberry Plains. Between 1878 and 1890, thousands of settlers from the East moved to take up the 160 acre homesteads offered by the government of John A MacDonald to settle the Big Plains. Their wives and children began to arrive in 1879, and the farming district of the Carberry Plains was born. Today Carberry's prosperous economic life has become inextricably bound to potato growing and processing. Carberry and the surrounding rural municipality of North Cypress has a combined population of 3400 residents. Carberry is 173 km out of Winnipeg. (Data courtesy of Carberry's A1 website)

I was visiting the congregation of Carberry Evangelical Free Church where Will Feldbush is the pastor on the occasion of this sermon delivered in 2008. The church kept me busy. I spoke five times from Friday night to Sunday night on their missions conference theme, 'For God So Loved the World.' In the video you will immediately get the sense of a small congregation in a small building with a warmth and friendliness between pastor and people. they are a wonderful group. The sermon was missional, reminding believers of what it is with which we have been charged or commissioned.

The video is 43 minutes in length. I preached almost that long, 35 min perhaps. I have been retired since 2008.

IT'S MOM AGAIN

2011-11-06T08:27:00.000-08:00

We can't help it, we three boys, three sons of a woman who was born in Montana and brought as a toddler to Saskatchewan. This is one of those days in every year when we remember her. I am glad that we can do it with fondness and gratitude. We remember her with reference often to this photo of her, mature, with cognition and joy and love shining from her blue eyes. Her mind and her eyes fogged in later years.

Her daddy had just died, so young, too young, 29 years of age. Doerksen was his surname. Her mom and her brother Peter two years older than she, were transplanted into another family, the Willems family. Marie married Abram. He had lost his wife and he already had six children. Opportunities did not abound on the prairies in the twenties and thirties, specially for a girl. Mom completed grade 9 before needing to work. She met Edward Richard Unruh, dashing young man, with a pencil mustache, balding dark hair, whistled everywhere he walked, well liked by everyone, a gentleman, a gentle man. She loved him. He was 4 years older than she. Although living in a distinctly Mennonite Christian community, Hepburn, he was not practicing the faith of his parents. His personal commitment would come later, ten years later, but Tina married Edward. I (Ron) was the first to be born to them.

He ran a gas station and then he went to war, enlisted, and that was unheard of. Conscientious objectors they were, these Mennonite settlements, but he was a Canadian and proud of it. He was an enlisted member of the Royal Canadian Royal Air Force, Force mind you, not Farce. So on this weekend, Remembrance Day, is also a time when memory of Dad re-emerges. And then the war was done and mom and dad started up a coffee shop, and then moved east to Ontario, and Murray (son #2) was born, and I was 5 years old. Dad worked hard at factories and mom was busy with children and work at home projects, sewing for others. She cleaned other people's homes. She worked in a restaurant as a waitress. And son #3 was born, Neale, named after Dad's eldest brother, and I was 11 years old. A coincidence that has intrigued us was that in dad's family there were three sons as well, and they born at the same time intervals, the first five years older than the second who was six years older than the third son.

And in 1954 Tina and Ed bought their first home and dad was 39 years of age and mom was 35. It was a small home and all three sons grew into adulthood there. Mom had basic life skills which because she was entrepreneurial, she turned into a livelihood. Many figure skaters wore her garments. Thousands of people ate her food. She ran her own occasional catering business. She served her food for coffee breaks in a corporation office building. She was head chef for many summers at a Christian Conference campus. She wrote a cook book in which Neale's and my drawing appear. She led women's groups at church and regional women's meeting in many places surprising herself that she could stand in front of others with adequate thoughts and words from which others would benefit. Those latter responsibilities compelled her to read and to study the Bible among other books and she grew spiritually and intellectually. And in all of these pursuits she was encouraged and assisted by the gentle man whom she had loved when she was a stunning young woman of 22. Sometimes it seemed that he had no greater ambition than to see her succeed.

I have written in memory of mom today, but as all of us have witnessed through our experiences with mom and dad, you could hardly think of the one without thinking of the other. So, on this day of remembrance of Mom's departure from here, I know that it won't be long, six months from now when we will remember Dad's departure. At 93 years of age he spoke to her still body and said, "good night sweetheart, I'll be seeing you soon." He too, could not think of life without her, and then he too was gone. We are all okay with this. This is life and theirs was a happy and contented life. They were married for 66 years. Her eyes convey to you why we loved her so much.

MAINTAINING SPIRITUAL VITALITY

2011-11-05T14:11:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking a good deal about the challenge of maintaining spiritual vitality. This is particularly demanding when one is employed and life is full or when children are young and require constant care. Responsibilities can impact one’s efforts to sustain a vital relationship with God. Conversely I have found that following retirement from formal work and in my case from ministry-oriented work, the absence of time consuming responsibilities also impacts spiritual vitality. Often responsibilities of the kind I knew when I pastored four churches or served as an executive officer of a church denomination, compelled me to pursue with diligence an intimate connection with God through prayer and reading the Bible and trusting God’s Spirit for insight and direction. When no longer faced with pressing duties, I have found it easy to relax the level of time and commitment to spiritual disciplines. It’s a retirement risk. It isn’t necessary but I know that it occurs. I have experienced it until I have realized afresh that no matter what I am doing in life, my relationship with God should not diminish but it should develop. This has been a good reminder, initiated by the theme of a one-day seminar that is being offered by ACTS Seminaries on November 25^th, 2011. I will attend. While it designed for people in Christian ministries, it has application to all working and active Christians and I know that it will apply to me as well. The principal speaker on that day is Gary Thomas, author of numerous good books. The seminar is entitled, ‘MaintainingSpiritual Vitality in Ministry.’

Information about the seminar

MURRAY AND RON TOGETHER AGAIN

2011-09-23T12:10:00.000-07:00

Murray & Di at Queen Elizabeth Park

When Christine and I decided to move from Ontario to B.C. twenty years ago, we knew that we had introduced separation into our family relationships. I ran that by my father at the time and his response was "you have to do what God has called you to do." That was an appropriate response given that he believed what he said and I was coming to BC to pastor a church. I left behind my parents and two brothers and their families and Christine did the same with her family. We have never regretted the move and the separation was manageable as it turned out that I was able through all of the years to travel annually to visit family back east. My own two children stayed in the west, married and had children and live here. We are complete and content.

Image of Murray from his website

However, we missed all the large family events and parties. My elderly parents finally unable to travel, saw only one of our five grandchildren in person. My brothers, Murray and Neale and I missed countless leisure and sporting opportunities done together. I am saddened to reflect on that. Murray is now retired as well and in his later years has also taken up visual art (painting) as a passionate hobby. His website is called Vintage Impressions. He paints for the pleasure and sells some because he has a unique and appealing style. Neale and his wife Kathy run a needlecraft store and Neale does picture framing. That could certainly have become a business alliance.

Murray & Ron at work/play

He and Diane chose to come to visit here in British Columbia for three weeks. Murray has come to officiate at a wedding of some special friends, and Di and Murray have been staying with us. We have both fulfilled a dream by spending hours painting together while listening to music (golden oldies) or talking (telling old stories) or laughing (too much), or doing all of these simultaneously. We have both completed paintings during this week.

We both see what we have been missing but we cannot retrace the past or return to change it. So we are not dwelling in the past, or dreaming of the future, but rather concentrating upon the present moment - living it.

Christine and I may travel east in 2012 and we will certainly pop in to see all of the relatives scattered in Ontario and Quebec. We may also return to see the Maritimes after an absence of over twenty years. And then perhaps we will disappear to England and Europe for many months - just thinking.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

2011-08-23T08:54:00.000-07:00

At Moby Dick's Fish & Chips, White Rock

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY MY SWEETHEART! Christine and I celebrate our 44th Wedding Anniversary on August 12th, 2011. We were married in 1967 Canada's Centennial Year, and the summer of EXPO Montreal. Thank you Christine. I love you.

Great 44th Anniversary Day. Began with a 1-hour walk, leisurely sunny breakfast, then our MX5 sports car ride to Domaine de Chaberton for lunch at the Bacchus Bistro, outdoors amid the vineyards, drove along 0 Avenue and backroads to Yarrow for an ice cream cone and on to Minter Gardens for a stroll through the magnificent themed park, happened upon a garden wedding and listened to vows similar to those we exchanged in 1967. Leisurely evening ride home in the sunset. And by the way I did mean 0 Avenue, right along the US/Canada border with nothing but a ditch separating 0 Ave and another US parallel country road. And somehow very surreptitiously and clandestinely border patrol monitors that border. Probably caught us sneaking a kiss too.

WE GOT IT AND DID IT - SENIOR MAN AND SENIOR WOMAN

2011-07-14T09:29:00.000-07:00

The call back for the six of us for a commercial advertising campaign resulted surprisingly in Christine and me being selected as principals, but not Jeff and Gina and their two children. Fortunately later last week, Jeff and Gina landed another. Yet what an interesting few days Christine and I have had this week, Monday through Wednesday. This is our first foray into commercial ads. We received word late last week that we were selected as two of six principal cast members, having no idea what we were expected to do. However, we learned that our roles were as senior man and senior woman. There is no doubt that we qualify by appearance and chronology. We arrived for wardrobe fittings on Monday. Then Tuesday and Wednesday were shooting days on a large lakeside acreage with a waterfront heritage home.

This was an atypical production because the cast was much larger than is customary. There were forty extras,and the six principals. The production crew was enormous, ten trucks, scores of production people, camera personnel, grips and gaffers, electricians and lighting technicians, set, props and art decorators, hair and makeup stylists, attendants, catering team, and even portable toilet. In addition the client company had a number of marketing, writing, advertising professionals on hand watching monitors with the developing action and still visuals. It was a very hands-on production. Someone said that this crew was the size often seen on movie productions.

Once on site, and having gone to wardrobe for the right apparel, we sat with other cast in a cavernous barn on the property. This was the sheltered holding area, where there was a constant supply of good foods available. Upon arrival you could grab a sumptuous breakfast at the catering trailer. Lunch was mid afternoon on both days. Tables and chairs accommodated us all during the hours that we waited for a call. Calls came to the entire group sometimes and at other times just couples or several at a time. Sometimes they were still shots taken rapid fire and other times it was action. Christine and I were even called for an audio only for sound bites that might be used. Hours and hours of digital material will be edited into 60 second commercials and magazine and brochure pieces.

We were impressed that while sun, clouds and rain alternated throughout both days, the crew managed their windows of opportunity with expertise.

We finished each day by 9:00 or 9:30 PM and drove home so by 10:30 pm we were weary even though we had nothing particularly strenuous.

We meet some fantastic people, might even have established a casual acquaintance or two that we can revisit. We found the clients very affirming. It was a new and enjoyable experience. After the goodbyes as we walked down the dark lane to our car, we overheard the director on the handheld radios telling his crew to meet the next morning downtown and thanks for a great day.

A STAR WE ARE

2011-07-05T11:34:00.000-07:00

Christine and I joined my son Jeff, his wife Gina and their two children for an audition last week. Yes, that's right. Gina regularly stars in TV commercials. She has an agent. This time, the product whatever it is, we are not told, wanted a family. They particularly want grandchildren interacting with grandparents. So we stood together with the camera on each of us in turn, stating our names and answering questions. There were scores of other families there for the same reason last week - $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$.
Kadence is four years old. She stated her name and her age. She was asked who is the funny one in the family and she replied "me." And she is comical.

Well it was considered highly unlikely by Christine and me, but we have all been called back. It is called a 'Call Back.' So tomorrow we go again so they can do another more in depth interview with us. Perhaps we actually have to do some role playing for the camera.

If on the outside chance we land the commercial, we will have to give them three days for shooting the film and we each get paid.

FATHER'S DAY 2011 - EDWARD RICHARD UNRUH

2011-06-17T06:50:00.000-07:00

My dad was a good man. He was easy to love.

I can remember him being angry only a couple of times. Once it was with a man who was troubling my mother. Another time it was with me as a youth and I deserved his annoyance.

Edward was his name. Edward Richard. English names bestowed on a Mennonite boy born on the prairies of Canada. His father Cornelius, a more common Mennonite name broke with custom. Only the oldest son carried the father’s name and it was Anglicized as well to Neale. The middle brother was Harry. Three sons, the eldest five years older than the second and eleven years older than the youngest who was my dad.

Dad and mother Tina had three sons, me Ronald James (the eldest) and I am five years older than Murray Dennis and eleven years older than Neale Bryan. In the early years of his fatherhood Dad wanted us to be thoroughly Canadian, hampered in no way by any hang-ups derived from the heritage. Little could he know how important the connection with our family history would be to us when we were adults. He and Mom spoke the Low German dialect at home with which they themselves had been raised in their Saskatchewan homes of Hepburn and Waldheim. Since I was almost five years of age before Dad and Mom moved to Ontario, I was familiar with the dialect, understanding much of it but not able to speak it. For years I did not let on that I understood what they were saying when Mom and Dad spoke privately using Low German.

Our Dad never struck us as a complex man. He was intelligent, interests in politics, current affairs and sports. He completed grade eleven, had no skilled trade but worked at available manual jobs. He was enlisted in the Canadian Air Force, never saw overseas action but was posted in the Yukon. Following WWII, our Dad, a hard working man, began a lifetime of work in factories. He was in love with his wife, committed to the care and provision of his three children, appreciated his church and what the Sunday lesson gave him for the week ahead.

He was not an ambitious man. He respected himself yet he may not have understood how well he was liked by others. He was friendly, helpful, kind. He never owned very much yet he shared what he could. He was satisfied easily. A day’s work and a day’s pay, and supper meal, and a newspaper, a nice place to sit in the back yard, a car to move the family around, a couple of weeks of summer vacation, a small pension at the end of a long time with the company. He expected no more than that. God was good to him.

I respected him very much. As a young man if I was tempted to do anything that was at all wicked, my esteem for him, held me back. Of course he was much younger then, and most of our memories are of him advanced in years, still with a wonderful sense of humour and a pleasant spirit and endearing love for our Mom. I miss him a great deal. He died at age 93 and that was three years ago.

June 19 Addendum: Father's Day came on Sunday and I was asked to preach at our local church. I chose to speak about "God the Father" and I used the Lord's Prayer in Matthew 6. The prayer begins with "Our Father who is in heaven..." Christine had prepared a light lunch and my son's and daughter's families came. After dinner I took my five grandchildren for a long walk to the school yard to play on the apparatus and then to the corner store for a slurpy. We hung around until early evening snacking on lunch leftovers. We enjoyed a good family day. I like that.

CANUCKS - PRIDE AND SHAME IN THE CITY

2011-06-16T06:19:00.000-07:00

We did it in 1994 and again in 2011. We went to game seven of the Stanley Cup Playoffs. And our city's worst residents rioted in the streets. Yep, again!

I watched the game with my son Jeff and his wife Gina and their two children who were multi-tasking with IPad and other toys. The tensions the three adults felt had intensified since Monday when our Canucks lost in Boston. We knew how important it would be to the team who scored the first goal. We had only put six goals past Tim Thomas in six games so the probabilities were against us. Nevertheless it was home crowd, home ice, tons of talent and desire. But Thomas and the big bad Bruins bombed the Canucks in their wins in Boston.

Canucks began the first period looking strong and determined, and THEN, the Bruins scored first. The noise went out of the building and the fright was on. Then in period 2, goals two and three and still no comeback by Canucks, and another B goal in period 3, and then it was over. In our viewing room, dressed in our Canucks jerseys, we sat mostly silently all night, glanced at one another occasionally with resignation, and then it was over.

Yet near the end of the third period our Rogers Arena fans were on their feet waving their towels and cheering for their Canucks who did us proud all year long in so many ways, and then when it was over our players also skated around and applauded their fans. Then the two teams did the traditional congratulatory skateby and shook hands but even that had a classiness to it as players showed genuine appreciation for one another's performances. And Tim Thomas in one of the outstanding goalie displays ever through his playoffs won the Conn Smythe most valuable player of the series award. And our fans cheered him genuinely. And they applauded the Bruins as they received the Stanley Cup.

Then within minutes outside and downtown in Vancouver, where 100,000 had watched on giant screens, the vast majority of people moved to go home, but the drunken, easily led, selfish, low esteem, social misfits from 18-24 years of age, broke down barriers, burned cares, taunted police, overturned police cruisers, broke windows, looted stores, hurt themselves and shamed our city once again.

As disappointing as our Canucks loss was, I am far more disappointed that our city's reputation has been sullied across North America by these degenerates.

JUNE 4 IS TINA'S BIRTHDAY

2011-06-03T08:27:00.000-07:00

She was born in 1919 in Montana, USA – June 4th. She was an infant when her father died suddenly. Mom’s parents had been homesteading and farming the vast rolling fields in pioneer conditions. One small wooden building served as both a house and a barn. Her name was Tina and she was a toddler when her mother Marie together with Mom’s four year old brother Pete, made a significant decision to leave Montana and come to Saskatchewan. Without much distance between her and the shocking grief she had born at the farm house, she was introduced to Abraham Willems who had also recently lost his wife. He was somewhat more desperate because he had six children for whom to care while farming a small plot of land. Marrying Marie was a practical resolution. Abraham’s children had adored their mother and still cherished her memory when this new woman entered their home. In the ensuing years Marie bore five more of Abraham’s children. The challenges for family life, poverty, tuberculosis, inter-family rivalry and tensions were factors that shaped the family and yet these were people of faith – ancient faith of a Mennonite variety that traced back to Crimea where Mennonite Colonies had found a haven in Catherine the Great’s Russia. Mom’s brother Pete was the odd brother, that is the maternal son, not wholly welcomed by the Willems sons, and decisively as a teenager he himself moved back to Minnesota where his mother’s family resided. It was from Minnesota that his father and uncles as young men had embarked upon that American dream of owning great tracts of land on the prairies of Montana. Pete’s departure was difficult for my mom and her mother Marie. Mom was a young teen and soon a young woman, who managed to complete a grade nine education before working as a domestic wherever she could. In time she met a dashing young man named Edward Richard Unruh who resided in Hepburn Saskatchewan. On June 12, she was married at age 22 and Edward was four years older than she. He had lost his hair by age eighteen yet what hair remained was dark brown and was complimented by a dark and classy thin mustache and dark eyebrows. Dad finished grade eleven, worked at odd jobs, ran a gas station, then called a service station and whistled while he worked. He was 26 when he and mom married, and I was born a year later, and when I was a baby Dad enlisted in the Canadian Air Force because Canada was at war. Following the war mom and dad operated a coffee shop in Hepburn, and then when mom was expecting her second child, they made the monumental move to the job opportunities of southern Ontario. Large factories and car plants and paper mills were installed there. Dad worked at the Ontario Paper Mills and Thompson Products (makers of GM parts) and finally at Anthes Imperial (furnace production) where he was employed on an assembly line for over 40 years. Soon after the move to Ontario, my brother Murray was born. I was five years old. Murray and I waited another eleven years for our brother Neale to come along. In the years between Neale and Murray, mom miscarried and there was a rumour that she had lost a baby girl, perhaps even twins. Such matters were never discussed with children when we young or older. Mom’s skills were numerous and all of them hands on and practical. She cleaned other peoples’ homes. She sewed clothing and costumes for skating clubs. She cooked meals and specialty foods. She was always involved in church life. Dad was too but far more reserved and quiet. She began her own successful catering business preparing and serving extraordinary feasts for wealthy clients. She had the temperament and traits of a leader but she surprised herself when she became the president of a Christian women’s group with a province wide mandate. Throughout our childhood our parents took us to Sunday school and church and we were involved in assorted children’s and youth programs which influenced choices that we made. The outcome was that all three Unruh sons became trained and involved in Christian work, two as pastors and one as a missionary. Murray and I are retired now from pastoring and Neale completed his mission involvement and began his own retail business. Mom has been gone since 2007 when she was 88 years of age but June 4 marks the recollection of her birthday. When she died, her children and adult grandchildren stood with my Dad Edward and heard him say to her, “Goodbye Sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.” Six months later he peacefully left us as well. The legacy that these two ordinary people left is lived through the lives of an entire family now where children and grandchildren walk with God and live by God’s values.

KAILYN IS A CHAMPION

2011-05-26T13:22:00.000-07:00

Kailyn far in front - Secretariat

Can you see that small statured girl walking to the line at the rear of the crowd. That is my ten year old granddaughter Kailyn. It may appear like a mismatch, but hold on. It doesn't matter how quickly one walks to the starting line but how confidently, how sure of one's own ability. I am sure that Kailyn had a better idea of what she could capably do than I did as I stood high in the bleachers ready to cheer her on. I could kick myself now for leaving too early. But I was there when she ran the 100 m. The gun went off and in the distance to the left I could see her. She looked like she had a good start and was with the others. But something happened about fifteen of her mini-strides into that race. Some afterburners kicked in and at 25 m she was in the lead. We were standing at the 3/4 marker and we could see that at the 1/2 point, Kailyn was three metres in front of the nearest runners. She came tearing past us, eyes riveted on the finish line, and she was now eight metres ahead of everyone. She blasted the field. She was first!

Kailyn is our Winner

Well she did that in the 200 m as well. First!!!!! Yes, I know everyone gets a ribbon. Everyone is important, and she is First. I am so amazed and so happy for her and so proud that she lets me hug her. Wow!

She finished third in the 4X100 relay, eighth in the 800 m. Sprinting is her strength.

EASTER SUNDAY 2011

2011-04-24T06:23:00.000-07:00

It is Easter Sunday morning. There are so many fine paintings from which to choose one that depicts the the intelligent movement from conjecture and hypothesis to conviction and faith. Many great paintings illustrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Most show Christ with scarred hands outstretched, or the risen Christ standing outside the now empty tomb, or otherwise revealing his victory over the grave and death. Perhaps no artist has captured the bewilderment and the emotion associated with human intellect coming to terms with the truth of Jesus' supernatural identity than this beautiful painting by Caravaggio called “Doubting Thomas.” It is an outstanding piece. Caravaggio makes flesh come to life. He brilliantly and dramatically stages the scene. This is Christ living and breathing despite his mortal and still open wounds, standing with his disciples eye to eye. Thomas had expressed his doubt about the report of the other disciples that Jesus was alive again. He said he would not believe unless he himself touched Jesus' wound, actually put his finger in Jesus' gaping side wound. Jesus permitted Thomas to do this, and in this moment, Thomas, astounded and convinced said, "My Lord and My God."

Caravaggio lived from 1573 – 1610. His Christ lives forever. And his visualized victory here is shared. The promise to us is this. Whoever believes in him will not utterly perish but will have everlasting life.

ICE CREAM CONE DAY - A DELIGHTFUL WAY TO HONOUR MY DAD

2011-03-08T21:43:00.000-08:00

Jayden better known as JJ

All of us except Cari the photographer

Ice Cream Selection March 8th, Dad's B-Day

We did it. We honoured Great Grandpa Edward Unruh. Died 3 years ago, Today would have been his birthday, No. 96.

He was an ice cream cone lover and he taught us enjoy it too. One cone was never enough.

This is cone number 8

Ryan took the prize. Ice cream was the main course today, and then savouries, following by, you guessed it, DESSERT.

Kadence is the youngest -

Kadence has tiger tail in her cone.

Kailyn is her older cousin and she teaches Kadence many things.

Kailyn is the oldest G-Kid


Nana and Papa and JJ, Kadence, Kale, Ryan, and Kailyn

Papa topping it up for JJ

My Dad, Edward Richard Unruh

Dad, we loved remembering your Birthday tonight. We thanked God for you, and we sang happy Birthday to you.

And best of all, my brother Murray and his family and grandchildren did this in St.Catharines, and my brother Neale and his family did this in Dorchester, ON

Yours Truly

A Cross Canada Celebration!

ICE CREAM CONE DAY

2011-03-08T07:59:00.000-08:00

Heh, dear family, welcome to Ice Cream Cone Day.

It's a tradition in our family. My father, Edward, was 93 years old when he passed away three years ago. following the memorial service my brother Murray gathered us all at his home. He and Diane spread ice cream flavours across the table. My dad's children, grandchildren and greatchildren helped themselves to cones of ice cream and more than one. That became the start of our now annual tradition. My grandchildren have been excited for weeks waiting for this. For our evening meal in Western Canada, we will begin with Ice Cream, as much as we want, and then we will enjoy some savories, and perhaps a dessert cone after that.

Grandpa Unruh was an established ice cream lover. One small cone always tasted like one more to him and if we were with him, that became the biggest treat - a gigantic splurge of pleasure. Having more than one cone today is playing by Grandpa's rules as my daughter put it.

So, today, although I and my two brothers and their families live in Surrey, British Columbia, St. Catharines, Ontario; and London, Ontario, we are all filling our cones and lifting them in a salute to Grandpa Unruh. I loved you very much Dad, even more than the ice cream.

New Zealand and Australia and South Pacific Islands

2011-02-20T03:32:00.000-08:00

Christine and I have just returned from a trip of a lifetime for us, exploring parts of New Zealand and sampling Australia and visiting islands like Fiji and Vanuatu. We count ourselves privileged to have been able to travel around the globe, specially into the heat of summer down under and away from the cool of our BC winter. I bring back hundreds of photos of exotic places and splendid people that I will enjoy turning into paintings on canvas. Ours was only a three week trip but it has brought us much pleasure.

HIGHLY REFLECTIVE

2011-01-24T07:48:00.000-08:00

Vermillion Lake-Mount Rundle reflection

I am highly reflective these days. Not nostalgic as much as contemplative. My age is partially responsible for this, as well as retirement. When I was actively employed, the daily routine and the full agenda restricted meditative time. Now the hours of each day are generally my own, to wake early and to read and to blog and to paint and to walk and to have coffee with a friend, and to hang out with a grandchild, and to watch TV and to nap. Moreover, now that my parents are gone and I am the eldest in the family and I am the grandparent, the senior, hopefully a long way from being a patriarch, I think a great deal about legacy, passing on the story, remembering the past. The urgency of recollection is driven by the realization that I have killed off a load of brain cells in recent years. Five years ago I suffered a grand mal seizure and certain short term memory connections blew out. I am no longer the bright star of trivia games. I am deeply grateful for life itself and for the life I have been permitted to live and to enjoy. In my faith understanding of the world and my place in it, I see myself as a recipient of so much that is undeserved. Well, maybe all of it. With the exception of academic degrees for which I worked my buns off, I have been accorded blessings, opportunities, privileges and honours that had virtually nothing to do with me. Good and responsible parents with high standards for relationships and work and morality. Their examples and affection bound me voluntarily to a code of conduct that was ultimately good for me. That's what I received right from the start. Some natural, latent and developed talent and ability in some areas stirred my interests and moved me forward in life on a good track. Interested and thoughtful encouragers in young adulthood stimulated my involvement in numerous activities and service that steered my life. Finding that the girl to whom I was attracted, also like me became the superior blessing of all. She married me. She and I grew a life out of innocence and naivety into a family of two children, five grandchildren, decades of good service to others in churches and organizations where we worked. And now the work is history and the family goes on, and it turns out that the relationships are still most rewarding. I draw a dinosaur with my grandson. I snuggle with the tiniest granddaughter. The oldest granddaughter lets me put my face against here face. The two middle grandsons spontaneously, unexpectedly come to hug me. Friends still surface from times spent up to fifty years ago and it is deeply satisfying. All of it is by grace. That's the way I look at it. Unmerited. A good gift, greatly appreciated.

ONE DAY AFTER NEW YEAR'S DAY 2011. IT'S JAN2

2011-01-02T21:54:00.000-08:00

Today was a gloriously sunny cloudless sky which in spite of a coolish temperature, begged for Christine and me to take a drive to the ocean, cruise down Marine Drive at White Rock beach and then on the Crescent Beach. It was top down weather for part of the time. We have a great walk at Crescent.

This was the day to take ornaments from the Christmas tree and set the still fresh specimen outside.

I put finishing touches on a painting of a red bicycle set against a fence at the ocean. It front basket is filled with yellow wild flowers picked nearby. Christine likes the composition. I will take a photo of it tomorrow and post it on my art blog. It will ready for my March Open House show in March.

2010-12-27T05:13:00.000-08:00

Well Dear Friends, I am trusting that 2010 was not unkind to you and that as you say goodbye to it with its fine memories as well as with its challenges, 2011 will emerge with realistic resolutions and numerous encouragements for a life of contentment, hope and trust in the trustworthy One, our Father who is in heaven, and his son, the Lord Jesus Christ.

Advent Wreath

2010-11-29T08:11:00.000-08:00

Almost universally the Christian church marks each Sunday during the Christmas Advent season in preparation for and in celebration of the birth day of Christ with the lighting of a symbolic candle. Yesterday, Nov 28^th the Candle of Hope was lit.

Candles are arranged in Christmas Wreaths, usually four candles in a circle and one white candle in the center of the circle. The wreath itself is assembled with evergreen tree cuttings. Traditionally on each of the four Sundays preceding Christmas Day, one outside candle is lit until Christmas Day, the anniversary of the Birth of Christ, when the central candle is lit. Each of the four outside candles carries a symbolic meaning, hope, love, joy, peace. Three of the candles are violet in color and the fourth has the color of a rose. The Christ candle at the center is white.

REMEMBRANCE DAY - WE VISITED JUNO BEACH MUSEUM IN NORMANDY

2010-11-11T08:32:00.000-08:00

Insignia of WWII Royal Canadian Air Force

VETERANS' WEEK/REMEMBRANCE DAY

Edward Richard Unruh, my dad fought to preserve us from outside oppression.This was particularly unusual given the family, heritage and town from which he came. His parents were immigrants from the Mennonite colonies of Crimea, Ukraine near the turn of the century. He was born in 1915 and in 1941 he was going to war to defend the freedoms upon which his birth country was founded and governed. Hepburn, Saskatchewan was largely settled by Low German speaking Mennonites who established a town of shops that provided all necessities and some amenities. Most families were farmers and most citizens attended church. Dad was slow on connecting with faith in the supreme being and perhaps that was one of the factors that resulted in his decisions to break with the pacifist conviction of his family and peers to join the Royal Canadian Air Force. While the town would support the war effort through prayer and labour, he would fight, albeit as an Air Force maintenance mechanic. He was a new generation Canadian and proud of his homeland.

My wife Christine and I spent two months in France in 2009 and our travels moved us to Normandy just before the D-Day anniversary. We stopped in Arromanches where we booked in at Room #6 in the Mountbatten Hotel. We walked the beach and toured the Musee that celebrated the accomplishments of June 6, 1944. This was the beach town to which the remarkable floating concrete piers and barges were floated by night across the English Channel from Britain and anchored well off from shore to create a docking area for great ships loaded with tanks and war equipment with which to mount the victorious assault against the Nazi German Army. Remains of some of the barges lie still visible in the crashing surf.

On a rainy and foggy day we went to Juno Beach and the Canadian Museum that honoured the Canadian contribution. Veterans years earlier realized there was no monument to honour the Canadian War Effort so they began the recruitment of funds. The City of Courseulles Sur mere donated a former camp site for the museum location. The museum was highly informative about immigration, about WW1, about the 1929 stock market crash and economic depression and then the confusion about Germany and Hitler's intentions until it was necessary to declare war against him. From six thousand soldiers to one million by war's end, most were volunteers like my father. Forty-five thousand Canadian soldiers died. Museum guides were mostly young Canadians on duty for four months. At the Canadian Museum we met one guide, a 21 year old McGill student whose grandfather perished while storming this beach, and while he may have said it many times to visitors, he told us, " I would not be here had it not been for his sacrifice." I was very proud to be Canadian that day.

When the war ended, my father came home in 1945.

My Uncle Les is gone

2010-10-30T23:23:00.000-07:00

My Uncle Les Willems died yesterday. He was 87 years old. That's a long life. He had been unwell for some time. His wife Helen, was with him at the end just as she has been there through all these years, a one man woman for a one woman man. They have two sons Dean and Peter and grandchildren in both Britain and Canada. He resided in Ontario, the province I left twenty years ago to live in B.C. In all those years I have seen him and visited with him only on family occasions like my parents significant wedding anniversaries and then at my parents funerals three years ago (Mom) and two years ago (Dad). Uncle Les was a tall man. When we were children his height and his deep voice mesmerized my brothers and I. He had a quick wit and a good sense of humour. When I wanted to go to college, he traded a 57 VW Beetle for an oil painting that I painted of an old Russian peasant woman. He held on to that for many years, returning it to me when I was already a middle-aged man. He thought that I should now have that painting. The car was long gone. He was a man of faith, so leaving was not a hardship for him. We however know he is missing from our family. His nearest loved ones miss him very much.

Memorial Service held Wednesday, November 3rd at 2pm, at Tallman Funeral Homes 3277 King Street SS1, Vineland, On L0R 2C0 phone# 905-563-8223 .

ACCIDENT

2010-10-16T18:06:00.000-07:00

A write-off, bent frame etc

Three of my grandchildren pictured below were in their daddy's car when minutes ago, it was struck by another car - not critical, for which I thank God, but daddy and youngest taken by ambulance for observation. The other two have some cuts.

These three sweet ones are safe

Sunday news: All appear OK, sore and traumatized and we will wait to see their progress.
Wednesday news: The car is a write off. human body Scratches disappearing, and some bruises appearing.
Wednesday one week later: Everyone is AOK. They must purchase another vehicle. They certainly have confidence in the Honda because no door panel or hardware entered the passenger area.

A BUNCH OF NUTS - THANKSGIVING

2010-10-10T22:51:00.000-07:00

Thanksgiving Day was a great day for my family and me.
Christine and headed for church at 9:30 AM, top up because the air was cool and damp. Great morning of music and a sermon. And then leaving the church we were welcomed by a sunny sky and warm air. Down went the top and we drove home stopping for a few groceries and a Starbucks pumpkin spice latte.

Knowing that the entire family of children and grandchildren would be coming for a harvest dinner at 4PM and Christine would be spending the afternoon preparing, I suggested that I could take three of the grandchildren in early afternoon to a NUT farm, that's right, and we would pick up hazlenuts. So that's what we did. My daughter and her three children spent part of the day together going nuts among the nut trees.

And then back home, everyone showed up and we have had a fantastic family time together. A happy thanksgiving. Between dinner and dessert, we sat together around the dinner table and each of us took a moment to express something for which we were grateful. Even the smallest one had a reason and that was that she was grateful that she has a cousin with whom she can play. Then we went for a walk and came back for pumpkin pie smothered in whip cream. Hours of conversation and hugs all around and we shut down for the night. What a wonderful day.

PAPA AND THE 3 BOYS

2010-09-29T11:49:00.000-07:00

The photo is two years old and the 4 boys contained in it are each 2 years older. I have grown a beard since then but the other three have not. They are my three grandsons. Two of them are brothers and the third is their cousin. I cherish these kinds of moments and this one in particular because it is visually captured. It happened on an August morning at a cottage in Tulameen. I had just retired after a career of service and I was finding it difficult to adjust to life without work and I was not reacting well to a cottage full of people and busy grandchildren. I am confident I did a good job of putting off my children from every wanting to do a family vacation again. Hopefully some mending has occurred since then as they see I have grown more comfortable with who I am now and more content with the grandchildren as children. I am not always grumpy. I love the intimacy and love and the touchy, feely stuff and joking and tickling and walking and playing together and seeing them grow. These boys are close to my heart. Can you tell?

IT'S MY BIRTHDAY but I am thinking of Mom and Dad

2010-09-13T09:33:00.000-07:00

Yes, another one. As I did my walk this morning on this cool damp morning after a day of rain, I walked with a sense of my age because my clenched hands ache with the onset of a mild arthritis that is bothersome to my painting. I didn't stay on that thought long however. I realized that while I walked on the first day of my 68th year on earth, I was thinking of my mother who sixty-eight years ago laboured to give me birth. I was her first-born child. She was twenty-five years of age. Just beginning a life as a mom. She is gone now, leaving three years ago after finishing well as she could and then her mind clouded gradually until everything became simple and mundane and controlled by others. For those other caring people I will forever be grateful. Most of all for my brother Murray and my sister in law Diane who for love alone gave endless hours to care for Mom when Dad could no longer do that and we he needed to be encouraged as he toughed life alone until he was 93 years of age. On my birthday I have thought of Mom, soft blue eyes, devoted wife, lover of Christ, nurterer to three sons, fantastic cook, proud woman, contented woman, helpful to everyone, concealer of deep inner hurt that had a long history, determined and ambitious and industrious and surprised by successes that came as a result. The woman my father fell in love with and whom he adored changed involuntarily until she barely existed but he understood this process and loved her. He taught his sons about love so that we could come through adolescence, confusion and mistakes to a mature appreciation of our mother. And when she died he taught us again when he said, "Good night sweetheart. I'll be seeing you soon." Six months later he too slipped quietly from us in 2008. And I am experiencing a birthday at this season of my life and trusting still to leave a legacy of good memories for my offspring and grandchildren. May be 68th year be productive.

Day later Birthday Postscript: We gathered at my son Jeff's home. He and Gina prepared a great meal, baked crusted Halibut which he himself caught off the west coast of Vancouver Island, salsa, great green salad (courtesy of daughter Cari), glass of Ehrenfelser. For dessert, Christine baked an egg custard pie and a chocolate pie with whipped cream. Later, everyone sang happy birthday to me, grandchildren crowding in to give me cards and a present from the whole clan. The children ripped the wrapping off because I was far too slow at it. Inside was a portable painting easel, light, easily assembled, in a carrying case - could take this to France or Fiji. This was the kind of soft celebration birthday party that I like - only my son-in-law was missing do to work. Thank you my family.

Life is too precious.

2010-09-04T05:31:00.000-07:00

My own life is almost spent. Sure I may have many years to live. Yet my energetic working years are done. The strong blond man of my high school and college years lives only in pictures seldom viewed by anyone. My children now in their own mid years don’t remember me in my youth. In their minds they have only grown accustomed to the ‘me’ with escalating limitations. Their children will always know me ‘old.’ Grandpa I am.

I am not complaining. This is life. It’s good. There are large measures of joy and satisfaction attached to this personal definition of life in Canada.

That’s why the wounded lives of Paul and Zabeth Bayne and their children Kent, Baden and Bethany trouble me so much. That's why the Court Case, the result of which will determine whether the children can come back to their parents or whether they must be forced to become adopted children to adoptive parents, is one of the most important events in B.C. right now. It is only one family of course. However, this single case forecasts the likelihood of an overhaul of the structure, protocol, personnel and policies of this beleaguered child protection agency. It is unthinkable that the Judge's conclusion might greenlight further injustices to more innocent parents and children as zeal and power without wisdom decides the lives of citizens.

The Baynes should not be enduring this broken family unit, the financial ruin, the daily tears, the eyes of three children filled with worry and doubt about so many things that should not harass a child in Canada. For the past year I have been writing a daily blog post advocating for the return of the children to Paul and Zabeth. A final court day occurs September 21. Then the judge will take some time to write and deliver his ruling. Catch it all at my GPS site. Today I wrote my 300th entry.

WE WENT TO THE PNE

2010-08-31T07:23:00.000-07:00

On Sunday afternoon and evening of the 29th of August all of us, Christine and I and our children's families, all eleven of us went to the PNE, Pacific National Exhibition. This year it celebrates 100 years. And of course at night there was a dazzling show designed to that theme.

We parked for $25 per vehicle, did many rides and ate PNE food and paid PNE prices and toured the prize home and stood in lineups and played games and won stuffed animals, and watched fireworks and had a blast.

FREE IS THE WAY TO GO

2010-08-20T16:07:00.000-07:00

BC Ferry: Coastal Celebration The Coastal Celebration was the ferry we boarded at Tsawwasen on Tuesday at 10:00 AM. Christine and I and two of our friends were heading to Swartz Bay as seniors, which incidentally means 'FREE.' We left our car on this side got our tickets with $0.00 printed clearly and took our ride across the waters. We did not plan to get off and head to Victoria. Rather we were simply doing the ride there and back and enjoying the deliciously prepared buffer dinner on the return trip. As we were finishing the home bound journey we decided that it was only 12:00 PM and we could do another round trio and be back on the mainland by 3:00 PM. So we did that. What a great idea, a great meal and great day.

Coastal Celebration was built in 2008 at a length of 160 metres. It's car capacity is 370 including 32 semis. It travels at a maximum speed of 23 knots.
Vancouver (Tsawwassen) - Victoria (Swartz Bay)

Summer Day

2010-07-14T21:27:00.000-07:00

Two of my grandsons and I, Ryan and Jayden went for a long walk at Tynehead Park this morning. Just thought I would. Ryan is 6 and Jayden is 5. We had water and oatmeal bars along. We walked over bridges that span a little river that carries salmon and trout in the high water season. We walked through forests where there many hidden stories that we developed with our imaginations. There were branches to ride like horses. There were butterflies. The three amigos had a fun time. And small diet coke cans when we got back to the van and Jayden said, "Watch grandpa, this is the first pop can I ever opened." Pffft

NOT LOST AT ALL

2010-05-25T06:01:00.001-07:00

I shut down my theological mind occasionally to be entertained by fiction. Lost intrigued me.

First the affirmation. The final image of Jack’s eye closing, a reversal of the show’s opening moment six seasons ago, was perfect. The sideways storyline with Desmond gathering the characters to reclaim their memories of the island was warm and emotional. But here it comes. The show's ending was disappointing and contrived, maybe inevitably. Oh of course it was a jolt to learn that Jack Shepherd was in fact dead as were all the other Losties. They had been dead all along. The Oceanic air disaster was really the end of their lives. When the entire island story line that grabbed us for six seasons turned out not to matter, that was deflating. All the island particulars were insignificant. All the tumultuous action and story twists turned out to be disconnected from that final quasi-religious resolution of the plot. Life on the island had been a supernatural post-death test and everyone who mattered was destined to pass, except for Ben, who stayed out in the parking lot. The island had been a post death prep school for all who would eventually pass into the vivid white light of afterlife. A pretty good yarn.

Have you considered that LOST has not concluded at all? That it is continuing in a parallel dimension, a sideways universe that is running concurrent to our own. That is what real LOST fans are thinking.

My reality is this. “I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see.”

JJ and Me

2010-05-18T15:58:00.000-07:00

LEGACY BUILDING

Three of our grandchildren had a sleepover on Saturday night. The youngest of the three is Jayden, known as JJ and he is five years old.

On Sunday afternoon, his brother and sister were each occupied with their own activities. JJ came to my studio and I was sitting at my laptop. He came quietly to me and said, "Grandpa, can you come outside with me?"
I said, "do you want to go outside?"
JJ responded, "Can you play with me?"
I was so touched by the soft request.
"Let's go!" I said.

So we went outside, sunglasses on and started out for a long walk. As we walked we stopped to look at insects and we picked up anything that looked shiny or interesting. We headed for the hydro right of way in which spacious walkways have been constructed. I spoke to JJ about the hydro towers. JJ told me those are power lines. I asked him, "how do you know that?"

He said, "I just know it." I told him, "I am so proud of you."
JJ said, "I know a lot of things. I think that I'm a pretty smart boy."

We walked to the school yard and we did the swings and then I watched as he climbed and slid on the equipment. We continued our walk and talk and wound up at the corner store where I bought him a multi-coloured slushy. I had a coke.

The walk home was casual, conversational, and so much fun for us both, a man and his grandson. I loved it.

THE FINAL GOODBYE CAME ON MAY 1

2010-04-30T00:01:00.000-07:00

Our father died on May 1st 2008.

Murray, Neale and I instinctively remember him today. We each remember him frequently all through the year but on this day a couple of years ago, we said goodbye. It seemed at times he would always be here. Decade after decade in spite of aging, he was here. Even when Mom was no longer coherent and required the care of a nursing facility, Dad remained in his apartment looking after his own needs.

Our Dad was a small man and he raised big boys – too big right now. Thirty pounds too large. I speak for myself.

Dad gained a grade eleven education in the small prairie town of Hepburn, Saskatchewan. Then he worked. He worked at many jobs and hard work did not worry him. He married his sweetheart when he was 26. Their love took them contentedly through 66 years until Mom passed away. In his twenties he owned a gas station ) filling station it was called) and he an Mom set up a coffee shop. He enlisted in the Canadian Air Force for the conflict of WWII, an uncommon act in a town of Mennonite pacifists. When the war was settled Dad moved Mom and me to Ontario for the advertised job opportunities. I was four years of age. Factory jobs were available and he tried several, finally landing with Anthes Imperial, a furnace manufacturing company. He stayed with this company for forty years. He was always on the assembly line, never in management. I remember that he often came home tired and hot. He would clean up and settle down with his newspaper, sometimes draped over his face as he napped on the sofa. He modeled a commendable work ethic that instructed his three boys for our passage through adulthood. Well into our own manhood one day, we asked him why he stayed at such difficult work for so long. A six word reply revealed the man. “I did it for my boys.”

Dad never took a leadership position at church. If he was asked to be on committees or boards he declined. He knew his strengths and limitations. He enjoyed serving but he chose service in the areas of his comfort and competence. Smart man. Private man. Honorable man.

We miss him so much. He was 93 years of age when he died. He had been without his sweetheart for six months. I am sure his heart could not take the loneliness any longer. But as always he didn't show his emotions. He never complained. Oh perhaps he complained occasionally about the imaginary neighbours above him who made unnecessary noise and the imaginary boys whom he saw climbing trees in the back yards four floors beneath his apartment in the dead of winter. But we didn't fault him for these wanderings. In fact I have been hearing neighbour noise and seeing unusual events for some time now myself.

In fact right now I see you Dad.
“Five years between each one of your three sons means that we each have differing memories of you at different stages of your life. But you were unchanging so there is much that we recall that is the same. You did stuff with us, whether it was baiting fish hooks or walking through a forest or taking us on a road trip. Dad, you loved the ladies each of us chose to be our wives. You treated each one as though she was your own daughter. You were proud of us and what we were able to accomplish in life. You let us talk and you listened to us. You had a wonderful natural sense of humor that enabled you to say a comedic line so dryly to crack us up. You laughed with us. You remembered each one of our children by name and you inquired about them – even the ones you never saw in real life because of your years, frailty and distance. We loved the lady you chose to marry too. It broke our hearts when she had to go. But you were strong. We will never forget you as standing beside her then, you said, “Good bye sweetheart. I'll be seeing you soon.” Through the years we always paid attention to what you said and we trusted your word. On this occasion you were right again. 'Soon' came too selfishly soon for us, but really, we know the timing was good and gracious for you. How we loved you Dad. We love you still.

EDWARD RICHARD UNRUH, HUSBAND OF TINA; FATHER OF RON, MURRAY AND NEALE; LOVER OF GOD.

(See Murray's comment below)

An Artist's Vocation is to be Respected

2010-04-09T06:16:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Robert Genn sent his second letter of the week. Twice each week I am a recipient of this artist's newsletters. They are informative and stimulating. Further, his online site permits free listing of my website and for a small price an even better exposure online. Thousands of artists subscribe to his service.

His sent letters provide opportunity for comments and these are always worth a read. I occasionally respond as I did today. Genn cited a letter written by an American teacher of art named Charles Brooks. It can be read in its entirety at this web location.

Today I wrote, "The letter is a classic and it was worthwhile for me to read it but perhaps not with the results you expected for me. Brook’s advice to the artist was to disregard what critics might comment about the artist’s idleness of life when the world outside the artist’s own creative world is troubled, and to dismiss from one’s mind all of those temporal cares in order to focus upon the authentic and legitimate task of controlling that material world briefly in order to see well and then to nobly seize the opportunity to create something that becomes a portion of one’s legacy to others.

As I read this letter, I projected the many unbearable life situations in which many artistic spirits find themselves today. This letter is written to someone in the almost idyllic North American culture where all one has to shut out is extraneous traffic noise or the rumours of wars on CNN. Yet internationally and even personally there are worlds of pain and hurt and destruction that are not easily dismissed in order to gain solitude for a creative moment. The letter caused me to reflect upon artists who have respected their craft so well that they did not have to justify it or even to find solace from a wild world in order to create. I think of the painters of the war experiences of our world, who like photo journalists today, recorded for us a material world coming undone, and faces of beautiful men and women dying, dead or fighting for freedom. I think of Vincent Van Gogh who early in his career tried to pastor the poverty stricken potato farmers and recorded their faces and gnarled hands because he could not ignore his world but found something to be treasured there. An artist is far more than a recluse needing affirmation for a vocation that doesn’t hammer nails or build empires. An artist’s vocation is not merely for the good times, or for the times when you can escape a bad world. It is for every world condition and that is why it is to be respected."

I am Golfing

2010-04-07T00:01:00.000-07:00

Jeff and Tim and I took Ryan and Jayden and Kale out for some Par 3 golf at my Golf Course. Ryan and JJ and Kale are seven, five and five years of age so it was a slower than normal round. Par 3's were played by these little guys as Par 20's.

As for me, at age 67 I am hitting the ball consistently straighter and with better contact and control than ever in my life. All the backyard practice with plastic golf balls has paid off.

And.......... The Master's Golf Tournament week has begun and with that the return of the now notorious Tiger. It might make for a great story for Tiger to win but I would much rather see Mickelson or Weir or Els win this big one.

Easter Sunday Special Family Dinner

2010-04-04T18:08:00.001-07:00

The Day dawned perfectly, a clear sky, sunshine later in the morning, the entire family showing up at my church so we could sit together in one long row at least one time each year. Grandma purchased T-shirts for the three grandsons, Ryan (blue), Jayden (yellow) and Kale (green) spring colors no less, and she sewed corresponding dresses and bought cute sweaters for the two girls - cousins, Kaylyn and and Kadence. The rest of us had to fend for ourselves. As we did last year, we made reservations at Northview Golf and Country Club for their Easter Buffet Brunch. Besides the good food there was a magician who made the rounds of tables and facepainting for the children. The afternoon finished with the girls watching a girlie kids flick and the guys (young and old) going to the nearby golf course where I have a free membership for four years, having done a painting for them and the T-B ox signs. A wonderful time. Little Kadence topped it off for me when she grabbed my arm and hugged me and said "My Papa!" and then she said, "hug and kiss" so we did it. Christine deserves so much praise for making this event like so many happen for us all, building memories of our family for our family.

JESUS ON EASTER SUNDAY

2010-04-03T18:17:00.000-07:00

Easter should be the most openly joyful time of celebration of the church year. Celebrated against the background of the shadows and darkness of Lent and Holy Week, this season truly becomes a living expression of the hope that God has brought into the world through the death and resurrection of Jesus. Since this hope of renewal and new life, both present and future, is at the heart of the Good News that the church is commissioned to proclaim and live in the world, every possible avenue of proclaiming that Good News should be utilized. No doubt that is why many traditionally non-liturgical churches are increasingly recovering the value of the various traditions of the Easter Season as a means of bearing witness to their Faith. Seen as Proclamation, the various aspects of worship during this season can become vehicles for God’s grace and transforming work in the world, and among his people.

It is Good Friday

2010-04-02T08:37:00.000-07:00

“It's Friday, but Sunday's a comin'!"

Tony Campolo is the man who made this phrase famous. In a classic sermon he tells the story of a white pastor preaching at a predominantly black church and finally catching on to the cultural speak that communicates the great news of Easter.

“It's Friday, but Sunday's a comin'!
It’s Friday, but Sunday’s a comin’. It was Friday, and my Jesus is dead on a tree. But that’s Friday, and Sunday’s a comin’. Friday, Mary’s crying her eyes out, the disciples are running in every direction like sheep without a shepherd. But that’s Friday, and Sunday’s a comin’. Friday, some are looking at the world and saying, “As things have been, so they shall be. You can’t change nothing in this world! You can’t change nothing in this world!” But they didn’t know that it was only Friday, and Sunday’s a comin’. Friday, them forces that oppress the poor and keep people down, them forces that destroy people, the forces in control now, them forces that are gonna rule, they don’t know it’s only Friday, but Sunday’s a comin’. Friday, people are saying, “Darkness is gonna rule the world, sadness is gonna be everywhere,” but they don’t know it’s only Friday, but Sunday’s a comin’. Even though this world is rotten, as it is right now, we know it’s only Friday. But Sunday’s a comin’.”

The message builds to a powerful conclusion when the pastor simply shouts, “It’s Friday!” and the congregation responds, “But Sunday’s comin!’”

A PALM SUNDAY PERSONAL APPLICATION

2010-03-28T06:15:00.000-07:00

This last week of Jesus’ life on earth, this Easter week is arranged by the will of the Father. It is what he wills. Last week we listened to Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane and while he asked to be excused from such an horrific death as a sin bearer disconnected from the Father, he qualified his request with submission to the will of the Father. He said, “not as I will but as you will.” Jesus is essentially saying that whatever the Father wants, he himself wants.

What God wants, is what I want.
That was so easy an attitude for me when I was a younger Christian and relatively unattached to people, to places and to things. When you possess little, and you are eager to be on your own and away from parental jurisdiction and you have a spirit of adventure that is eager to go anywhere It is comparatively simple to say to God, “What you want is what I want.”

But here I am today. I have finished a four decade career in formal Christian work as a pastor and an executive officer of a church denomination and numerous volunteer responsibilities in Christian organizations. Always during those years I was quick to say, “What God wants is what I want.” I have been married to Christine who has similar expressed that commitment to the Father’s will. With me she has prayed submissively, “Anything, Any time, Anywhere.” This shared obedience has developed our skills and connections and wisdom and experience and taken us to several cities to live and to work for God.

Now I have embarked upon a stage of life called retirement. During all the active working years Christine and I have seen our children married and our grandchildren born and all of them located within a five minute drive from our home, and we have accumulated stuff, property, house, cars, things. And now I have taken retirement to mean release from the myriad formal responsibilities of earlier years but not release from biblical spirituality and godliness of life. Nevertheless, when it comes to thoughts about whether to and when to sell our house, and where to relocate, and how to spend the remaining years of our possibly long lives, I know that I must say I want what God wants yet I don’t find submissively saying “Anything, Any time, Anywhere,” as easy as it once was.

I give you that personal anecdote simply to say here that the will of God is paramount in how each of us lives our personal lives and chart the course for our families with children who are still in our care, and it is paramount with how we do church and nurture our relationships and practice our careers in the marketplace or the Christian sector. What God wants is what I want, or more clearly, not my will but your will Lord.

So, the disciples knowing what Jesus wanted, went ahead of him into Jerusalem and met the owner of the animals and told him that Christ needs the donkey and its foal. This was what Jesus wanted so the disciples did it. It was what Jesus wanted so the owner gave the animals for Christ’s use.

KALE GETS DENTAL SURGERY TODAY

2010-03-26T07:07:00.001-07:00

OUR MINDS ARE OCCUPIED WITH MY GRANDSON, 5 YEAR OLD KALE TODAY. HE IS SCHEDULED FOR SOME DENTAL SURGERY. HE CAME FIVE YEARS AGO WITH AN EXTRA TOOTH IN THE FRONT SO HE WILL GO TO SLEEP AND WAKE UP AFTER THE PROCEDURE. EVEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS GETS GRANDPARENTS VERY CONCERNED. WE LOVE HIM SO MUCH. SPECIAL BOY.

And this is his swollen post surgery grin, painful and to bed early...

Mazda-MX-5 Roadster My retirement wheels

2010-03-25T07:47:00.000-07:00

This is my car - no! really!

Just another peek at it - well, OK it is a bit more stylized!

The Red one is mine.

ICE CREAM CONE DAY WAS A GOOD SUCCESS

2010-03-09T05:07:00.000-08:00

If you look back to the previous post you will read that yesterday, Monday March 8th was ICE CREAM CONE DAY at my house. For that matter it was Ice Cream Cone Day at my brother Murray's place in St. Catharines, Ontario and at my brother Neale's place at Dorchester, Ontario or wherever they observed it seeing that Neale is a working man during the daytime.

ICE CREAM CONE DAY is in honour of my father Edward Richard Unruh. He died at age 93 in 2008 so had he lived a wee bit longer he would be 95 years of age. As it is he is a forever man. He was a man of faith. I remember that as a boy a western singer sang a song that Dad loved. Stuart Hamblen sang, "When you see me close my eyes, say Amen but don't you weep. I've got so many million years you just can't count them."

Of my own five grandchildren, he saw only one of them in person, the firstborn. Mom and Dad reached a point a few years ago after which they no longer travelled any distances, so they never made it west and my children as young parents could not afford to go east to St. Catharines where Dad and Mom lived. He never personally saw the other four great grandchildren here in B.C.

Nevertheless we celebrated his memory yesterday. It was a privilege. These five little twerps want to do it every year.

Pictured here are first, my Dad Edward, then Kale (5) and Kadence (3) and me, Papa. Then Kale, Jeff, Kadence and Papa. Following that, is Ryan (7) Jayden (5) and Kailyn (9) together with mommy (Cari my daughter) and Papa with a photo of my dad, Edward.

On the Photo is the inscription Edward Richard Unruh / Lover of God, Tina and Ice Cream.

ICE CREAM CONE DAY

2010-03-07T13:30:00.001-08:00

MY FATHER LOVED ICE CREAM CONES
Monday March 8 is my father's birthday. He is not here to celebrate the day. He passed away two years ago. On this day this year he would have been 95 years of age. Of course we were saddened by his death, but our mom, his wife and sweetheart had preceded him in death just six months earlier. Those were lonely months for him but he was always a pleasant and cheerful man. And he loved ice cream cones. He always had enjoyed them. So, following his funeral we all celebrated his memory with ice cream.

Tomorrow my brothers, Murray and Neale and their families will remember Dad with ice cream cones, and so will we here in B.C. My children and grandchildren will come over and I will scoop. I have numerous flavours and cones galore. One cone may not be enough even for the children, so a second is acceptable.

I can remember being ten years of age and my father taking me to an ice cream parlour and buying us cones, just he and me. We ate them as we walked down the street on the way home. As we turned a far corner, Dad was completing his cone when he said, "I think that tastes like more" so we turned around and went back for a second one. That spontaneous extravagance impressed me then and became a precious memory.

Throughout his years no matter whom he was with he might say, 'let's stop here and see if they have some ice cream," or "Do you care for an ice cream cone? I think I would like one." And he always had to pay. He insisted.

LEAVING A LEGACY - MAY THEY FIND US TO HAVE BEEN FAITHFUL

2010-03-03T05:29:00.000-08:00

Both maternal and paternal sides of my heritage derive from a persecuted people group known as Mennonites who found refuge in Empress Catherine II's Russia and were permitted to establish themselves in colonies in Crimea. Stalin changed that. Researching my paternal ancestral tree has taught me that in every generation going back into the 1700’s, there was a missionary, a pastor, a church elder, a theologian/teacher. From a family of seven siblings living in Temir Bulat, Crimea in the late 1800’s my grandfather was one of three who emigrated to North America. Coming through the northern states to Saskatchewan where he settled with a new bride. In Hepburn, my father and I were born. I began my personal journey of faith when I was ten years of age. As I write in 2010, fifty seven and one half years have passed. I am more convinced today than I was as a boy that an exclusive trust in the Son of God is imperative. Further, the legacy of faith which I received has been nurtured far beyond a superficial institutional belief to something enduringly exceptional. I am convinced that I must leave my children and specially my grandchildren an example of faith and the prescription for making faith their own.

American recording vocalist Steve Green hit his stride during the 1980’s and one of his songs was ‘Find us Faithful.’ These lyrics speak my sentiments. I have linked two YouTube files where you can hear him singing this today, twenty-five years later, and also when he sang it as a young man. Of course the studio settings are a wee bit churchy and clichéd but appreciate this for the tune and the words.

Find Us Faithful - Steve Green
We're pilgrims on the journey
Of the narrow road
And those who've gone before us line the way
Cheering on the faithful, encouraging the weary
Their lives a stirring testament to God's sustaining grace

Surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses
Let us run the race not only for the prize
But as those who've gone before us
Let us leave to those behind us
The heritage of faithfulness passed on through godly lives

Chorus:
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
May the fire of our devotion light their way
May the footprints that we leave
Lead them to believe
And the lives we live inspire them to obey
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful

After all our hopes and dreams have come and gone
And our children sift though all we've left behind
May the clues that they discover and the memories they uncover
Become the light that leads them to the road we each must find

Repeat Chorus

* Steve Green sings it for the Gaither Vocal Band
* Steve singing it as a younger man when the song was first introduced.
* A link to Steve Green’s Web Site and Foundation

Steve Green (born August 1, 1956 in Portland, Oregon) is a Contemporary Christian music singer notable for his vocal range (tenor) and flexible solo style. Over his twenty-five year career, Green has been honored as a four-time Grammy Award nominee, seven-time Dove Award winner, has had 13 No. 1 songs, and has sold over three million albums.

IT JUST HAPPENS

2010-03-02T06:11:00.000-08:00

As Christine and I were saying goodnight to one another last night, she with her head resting on her pillow and me reclining on mine, with one hand she stroked the side of my face, silly little beard. As she moved her hand against me I could see in her eyes a look of pathos, a sadness at the different me she saw from when we knew each other as younger adults and new lovers. Her expression was so clear to me that I said, “I’m sorry.” Looking into her eyes, still so stunningly dark and alluring I said, “I tried not to change.” And then her understanding eyes began to tear up as she replied, “Me too.” “I know” I offered, “we tried for so long not to let it happen to us.” Both so happy with one another. Both complete with memories made together, both nostalgic and yet realistic, I said, “We’ll go the rest of the way together.” At which time, we both wiped some tears and then Christine said, “Oh stop it, you can talk like that when we are eighty.”

2010-02-28T06:58:00.000-08:00

We all believe; it is trust that we find challenging.
Doing is natural to us; depending on someone else is exceptional.
Answering comes easily to us; asking is more awkward.
Some life situations are unchangeable unless we trust someone who is trustworthy and can do more than we can and do it more effectively.

Those are some of the thoughts I have today as I reflect on something that I read. I preach at Richmond Chinese Evangelical Free Church this morning at the English service. Yes, occasionally I have an opportunity to do this once again. I thought that sharing some of the lessons God has been teaching me might be helpful to you too. I am preaching from mark 9:14-29 on the theme, “I believe, help my unbelief” which as you can remember is a prayer uttered excitedly and urgently by a father who was convinced that his son was infected with an evil spirit that caused the boy to be self-destructive, uncontrollable, irrational and non-communicative. The Canadian Olympic theme song refrain says, “I believe in the power that comes from a world brought together as one. I believe together we’ll fly. I believe in the power of you and I.” It’s an enjoyable song of solidarity but the power of you and I falls short when addressing the profound issues of life. While Jesus took three disciples, Peter, James and John to a mountain where Jesus was transfigured, the remaining nine disciples were challenged to cast out this evil spirit when the father brought his son for deliverance. The power of them blew it. They couldn’t fix the boy and the father was very disappointed. When Jesus returned, he reproved everyone’s unbelief but his prescriptive remark was, “all things are possible to one who believes.” That’s when the father prayed this prayer, “I believe, help my unbelief.” When later the disciples asked Jesus why they had not been able to deliver the child, he told them, “This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.” This is a transferable lesson to the many life situations which are beyond our ability to change or remedy or fix but All Things are Possible to One who Believes and Some Of These Situations Can Only Be Changed By Prayer.

MAKE THAT TWO

2010-02-27T13:34:00.000-08:00

That's right. Make it two trapped squirrels in three days. Another grey squirrel but this time I was surprised to find it had no tail. Closer inspection showed that it had been a recent accident perhaps in a fight or some other unfortunate incident because it appeared like a fresh wound. My image here is a stock photo and not one minus tail.

in this case my squirrel might have succeeded in hiding as the second image demonstrates.

Another trip to Redwood Park to release squirrel 2, and now the cost has been halved, sort of. One trip, $80.00 for one squirrel. It's down to $40.00 per squirrel. The business plan is unfolding with each passing day.

The Squirrel Meister

2010-02-25T11:24:00.000-08:00

I stamped his passport today. I have waited for several days. Today was the day.

A grey squirrel decided last week to make his home, his nest, perhaps his/her nursery in my garage soffit. I saw the squirrel entering a hole one day and knew I was in for a challenge. I tried boarding the whole and he chewed through the wood. I reboarded, and he simply chewed a larger hole up higher in the softer soffit wood.

I did my research, reading all I could online. I bought a havaheart trap and it has been waiting for him now for three days. Each day he came out in the morning, entered to look and taste the peanut butter and even took a couple of shelled peanuts. Yesterday I placed peanuts with shells at the entrance and today he took one on two separate occasions and then proceeded to take the peanut over the roof, along the fence, into the neighbour's yard and up into a tree at the back of their place. While he was gone I placed the peanuts behind the trap trigger plate so he would have to step on it to access the nuts. HE CAME, HE TOUCHED, I CONQUERED AND HE'S GONE.

I placed the cage with squirrel into my trunk, with a blanket over the cage to subdue the anxiety, transported him 10 kilometres to Redwood Park and let him go. If he returns he has to actually have a good GPS, be able to swim a small river or cross a busy bridge.

Now I have a cage. And I think that I will hire myself out. Do you have squirrel problems? Drop me a note. Perhaps I can help, for the price of my travel to set up the trap and to take the trophy away. Seriously.

Trap cost me $80.00 & made a round trip of 20 kms and have to buy some soffit wood - it was an expensive visitor.

I did it - my talk at the Surrey Art Gallery Association

2010-02-05T11:54:00.000-08:00

Last night was a very enjoyable evening for me. One of those bucket list items. A chance to talk to art enthusiasts about my art story, my early youthful ambition to be a graphic artist, the divine interruption that started me on a path of altruistic service within the church community, the setting aside of art as a career, the revived aspiration that in retirement I would give my art another serious try.

I was honoured to be asked to tell my story last night at the Surrey Art Gallery Association. At first perhaps ten people were there and by conclusion twenty. I chatted about the 18 art pieces I had brought with me and entertained questions as we shared some food refreshments. These new acquaintances were very encouraging to me. I confessed that I am not sure who I am as an artist because my styles and brush strokes and mediums appear to change according to the whim of the moment. Nonetheless the comments I received helped me and affirmed me.

Surrey Art Gallery Association Talk 'A passion postponed' Ron Unruh

2010-02-04T15:02:00.000-08:00

A passion postponed

Ron Unruh, a pastor-turned-painter, will speak at the Surrey Art Gallery on Feb. 4.

Surrey Leader Newpaper

As a child Ron Unruh was consumed with drawing, and as a youth he planned a visual art career. But a divine interruption summoned him to a life of service to others, and brushes and palette were set aside.

Surrey Art Gallery Association presents an illustrated talk by this Surrey-based visual artist titled Recovering a Postponed Passion on Feb. 4.

Unruh is a contemporary realist painter who paints scenes of the coastal region of British Columbia where he resides. With his residence/studio in Cloverdale, he is near White Rock and Crescent Beach waters and within sight of the North Shore Mountains and the snow peaked range of the Rockies so they become subjects of his work.

His Miata MX5 navigates through the agricultural lands of the Lower Mainland where heritage farms have changed hands and fields display the turbaned heads or bamboo hats of their current owners. He is fascinated by these images and seeks to record them. Unruh has travelled Canada from coast to coast and enjoyed numerous international trips.

Unruh has shown his work at the Cloverdale Blueberry Festival and in the constituency suites of MP Suhk Dhaliwal and MLA Stephanie Cadieux, under the auspices of the Arts Council of Surrey. He has also displayed in the Watershed Arts Café in Walnut Grove and recently held a show in his residence/studio, and almost half of the twenty-seven paintings on display found new owners. His work can be viewed at http://ronunruhgallery.webs.com.

The Feb. 4 talk is from 7:30-9 p.m. and there will be time for questions and conversation during and following the talk. Everyone is welcome and admission is free. Surrey Art Gallery is located at 13750 88 Ave.Call 604-501-5566 or check www.arts.surrey.ca for further information.

2010 A NEW YEAR IN SO MANY WAYS

2010-01-01T10:42:00.000-08:00

It is January 1, 2010
Christine and I have been out for a morning walk on a wet not so cool morning. Coffee is ready for sipping. Christine has already exchanged all the Christmas dishes for our customary day ware. It's a new month and a new year.

I walked past a house one block away that we seriously considered purchasing a week ago. It is a rancher and less square footage than our two story beauty, but someone beat us to it. Christine and I both wanted it but the morning we were to place an offer we learned it had sold. Mentally I had already trimmed the roses, removed old garden ties, put down fresh garden soil, put in a new kitchen, new hardwood floors, new baseboard and crown moulding, a new roof and new windows. Well that's gone but we have determined that we will nonetheless sell our home this spring. It won't be easy for us to leave here after twenty years but it what we will do it in 2010.

I will turn 68 years of age next September 2010. Swell! I am feeling those years and I suppose that gets me down a little. I haven't made the adjustment to being the patriarch, the geezer.

In 2010 we will do a Caribbean Cruise and a Habitat for Humanity week in Hawaii.

I hope to sell more paintings and to establish myself better as a credible artist.

Perhaps my children's novel will find its way to the printer in 2010.

I have been an advocate for a young couple whose three children were taken from them by BC's Ministry of Children in 2007. I am seriously trusting that a Court Case in January 2010 will restore their family to wholeness.

For so many years I was a dedicated reader of scriptures and a practitioner of what they contain and a communicator of its truths. The principles inherent in following Christ are still of importance to me but retirement has made laziness easy. I concede that and I want to make some changes. I can. That is what resolution is. A personal commitment to change a pattern of behaviour. I know that prayer and study should be dialed up a lot in 2010.

For someone who acknowledges that there is much that is out of my control and for someone who wants to see changes and improvements for my family members and friends, there is a lot about which I need to talk to the only one who can affect change in a supernatural fashion.

Hopefully for me 2010 will be far more than merely the enjoyment of the Winter Olympics in my province and will be a year upon which I can look back with satisfaction and thanksgiving.

Grandchildren Sleepover and Painting Lesson

2009-12-27T07:57:00.000-08:00

This is Boxing Day evening sleep over for five grandchildren with Nana and Papa.
One of the activities was a painting lesson with Papa(Grandpa)- me. All five around the kitchen island with watercolour paper in front of them. We each drew pictures with graphite first and then painted them in.

It takes a Grandma to set this up and pull it off. I would never have the nerve or the patience. But to my amazement, three boy cousins in one bedroom and two female cousins in another large bed and bedroom, went to sleep without hesitation and slept through the night. This morning two boys woke early and I cuddled them in a blanket to watch cartoons, then we had cereal and waited for the others. Grandma sewed the pajamas for all of them.

A Family Shot twelve years apart. A few Additions and Subtractions.

2009-12-27T00:01:00.001-08:00

These two photos are not only representative of how time passes but what transpires during the passage of time. And they are also a testament to what truly matters in life and particularly during the Christmas season. The Loving relationships between people and within family mean so much.

Here is a twelve year old picture of Christine and me and our children, Cari and her husband Tim, and Jeff and his girlfriend Gina. With us are my parents, Ed and Tina Unruh, both of whom have passed away since then. They were however, well enough to be at both of our children's weddings.

12 Days Before or After Christmas? and spiritual significance?

2009-12-26T00:01:00.001-08:00

Twelve Days of Christmas

What is often not understood is that The Twelve Days Of Christmas which we now customarily celebrate as preceding Christmas day, really begin on Christmas day December 25 and proceed until January 5 the day before the twelfth day, the Feast of the Epiphany on 6 January. For instance, the BC Ministry of Healthy Living and Sport this year promoted the Twelve Days of Christmas from December 13 to December 24 in Robson Square with ice skating at GE, hot chocolate, visits from Santa Claus, entertainment and children’s craft activities.

In actual fact the Twelve Days of Christmas are the festive days beginning on Christmas Day (25 December). This period has been known as Christmastide. The Twelfth night marked the end of the Christmas season. In Tudor England, Twelfth Night itself was forever solidified in popular culture when William Shakespeare used it as setting for one of his most famous stage plays, titled Twelfth Night.

Although the song by this name ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ was first published in England in 1780, the textual evidence may indicate the song is of French origin and this popular Christmas carol contains increasingly grandiose gifts which ‘my true love sent to me’ over a twelve day span of Christmastide: 12 Drummers Drumming, 11 Pipers Piping, 10 Lords a-Leaping, 9 Ladies Dancing, 8 Maids a-Milking, 7 Swans a-Swimming, 6 Geese a-Laying, 5 Gold Rings, 4 Colly Birds (often given as "Calling Birds"), 3 French Hens, 2 Turtle Doves, and a Partridge in a Pear Tree.

The song itself has often been viewed as a nonsense song for children. In fact, there have been numerous parodies of the song through the years. Interestingly, as early as the 16th century there were implications of spirituality for the song, that is that there were hidden references to basic Christian tenets of faith. The latter notion suggests that this is a mnemonic device to teach the catechism to youngsters so each gift refers to some aspect of Christian faith. The "true love" mentioned in the song is not an earthly suitor, but refers to God Himself. The "me" who receives the presents refers to every baptized person who is part of the Christian Faith. The partridge in a pear tree is Jesus the Christ, and Three French Hens are the Three Theological Virtues: 1) Faith, 2) Hope, and 3) Love (1 Corinthians 13:13) and Nine Ladies Dancing are the nine Fruit of the Holy Spirit: 1) love, 2) joy, 3) peace, 4) patience, 5) kindness, 6) generosity, 7) faithfulness, 8) gentleness, and 9) self-control.(Galatians 5:22). I am sorry but this effort strikes me as improbable, even comedic. Some church historians affirm this account as basically accurate, while others point out apparent historical and logical discrepancies. There is no substantive evidence available either way.

George Frederick Handel’s famed oratorio called 'Messiah'

2009-12-16T04:22:00.000-08:00

MESSIAH

Early each December in our home, our cherished CD’s of George Frederick Handel’s famed oratorio called Messiah are dropped into the CD player and we begin to listen to the words of scripture set to some of the finest music ever composed.

I credit two friends of ours with beginning that tradition for us thirty years ago. For a stretch of nine years, a couple of elderly women in my Toronto church spoiled Christine and me each December. Their Christmas gift to us was to take us to Ed’s downtown restaurant just across from the Roy Thompson Hall where following dinner we would enjoy the magnificent sounds of the Toronto Symphony and the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir as they performed Handel’s Messiah.

Handel’s Messiah is a choral oratorio, not an opera, determined by the fact that the choir plays the major role. Handel’s Messiah is by far the most popular of all choral literature and while I know oratorio is not everyone’s choice of music you have all been exposed to some music from the Messiah, even if only a perverted Hallelujah chorus used offensively in Bugs Bunny cartoons or toilet tissue advertisements. The music is exquisite but the best part is the text. It’s Biblical. For the child of God the text is enough to make one shake and tremble in admiration of God.

Handel’s Messiah is a reflective commentary on God’s Promise, His Incarnation, His Passion and His Resurrection. With most sacred oratorios, while the themes may be biblical, they do not use Biblical texts. The Messiah does, skillfully, brilliantly, movingly. Today I will read you the text of the first part and preach on a small section of the scripture I quote. There are three parts. I was guest preacher this past Sunday morning at Aldergrove Baptist Church and I chose to preach from Isaiah 40:1-5 which contains the opening words of Part One. The text of Messiah is taken from the King James version of the Bible.

"Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned: for she hath received of the LORD'S hand double for all her sins. The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain: And the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the LORD hath spoken it."

I told the folk there that if they like what they hear they can invite me back around Easter and I can read to them the second part from Handel’s Messiah and preach a message from the text it uses. “Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.” Then if they are up to it, they can invite me as summer begins and I will read to them the text from the third part which is such an encouraging and triumphant reminder of our hope. “I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth.” For now is Christ is risen from the dead, the first-fruits of them that sleep.” How’s that for inviting oneself.

Listen to conductor Trevor Pinnock introduce "Comfort, Comfort ye My People," and then tenor Kurt Streit singing this 3:37 min section.

Photo credit for Roy Thompson Hall: Cliff Spice

Christmas is Upon Us

2009-12-06T22:35:00.000-08:00

It's the 6th of December 2009 and the Christmas season is here. Today at church Christine and I were part of an ensemble that sang several selections from Handel's Messiah and that was a delight for us, and it sounded like others were thrilled to listen. Annually in our home the Messiah oratorio has been part of our celebration of the season. Christmas is a season of lights. Our pastor spoke about darkness and light. World news is frequently characterized by dark news bites much as it was in Jesus' day. He arrived as the light of the world. He pierces the darkness. Since then, all who follow him are instructed to serve as light and to insure that the light is not concealed in any way. Christine and I enjoyed a dinner at the Lampliter restaurant in Fort Langley and then in the afternoon, my two sons, one blood and the other in law, assisted me, virtually did it for me, that is, helped me set up our Christmas Tree. We purchased this 14 foot tree last Saturday an an dinner/auction for a Christian school. This is a tall and heavy tree and now it is in our living room with lights up and down and ornaments to come. Tomorrow we have friends coming over for a dinner. After the tree set up, we stopped at Tim Horton's donut place with Jeff and Gina and two of our grandkids for a snack because they had been to downtown Cloverdale to watch the Santa Claus parade. The season is rich with experiences. I speak to a bunch of seniors this Wednesday at a Christmas lunch gathering. Of course I don't yet admit too loudly that I also am a senior. I am in denial.

Ready to Fly

2009-11-06T00:01:00.000-08:00

A friend and I were in Arizona and we drove to the Grand Canyon where we climbed aboard a helicopter for an aerial flight over the Canyon, and my first ride in a helicopter. Sitting in this glass bubble cockpit, the landscape came at me from underneath and every side surpassing an IMAX rush. The copter company’s slogan was ‘Ready to Fly.’

My mother, not consciously, but effectively, was ready to fly ever since she was a young girl. In her case, it took an entire lifetime to finally experience that for which her training had prepared her. She was 88 years old when she went to heaven. But she was ready to fly much sooner.

On this date, November 6th, 2007, Mom dismissed gravity and her spirit soared. For the past several years of her life she had steadily lost so much of the vibrancy and power that had marked her identity through all the years that her three boys and eventually their spouses knew her.

As a very young woman she was a strikingly lovely prairie woman who bedazzled a debonair and balding young man with a pencil thin mustache who was known in his home town of Hepburn as the whistler. Hepburn was a predominantly German Mennonite community and Mom committed herself by faith to Christ as a young girl. She stepped outside the norm in marrying Dad who while born to church going parents had himself not yet made a faith commitment but was otherwise a really good guy. Soon after their first son was born, (me), her husband enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force as WWII raged overseas. When the war was over Ed and Tina started a coffee shop on Hepburn’s main street. Soon after however, they moved to St. Catharines, Ontario in hopes of a better standard of living and a brand new beginning. Dad got a job at Thompson Products, then the Ontario Paper Mill and finally Anthes Imperial. He was always a factory labourer, always proud of the quality of his work and the reputation he established with his foreman and peers. Mom was in love with him all of her life, confident in him, safe in his care. Then when he was in his mid-thirties he too placed his faith exclusively in Jesus Christ, and now Mom had a spiritual partner as well. She was a woman with an entrepreneurial spirit, whether it was cleaning houses for someone else, sewing garments, or starting a successful catering business. She was married to a one woman man who encouraged her in every ambitious pursuit. She assembled a cook book entitled “My Heritage” with illustrations by my brother Neale and me. She was a leader of women, a helper, a confidant, a reluctant speaker, and a woman totally amazed that God could and would use her, and use her three sons in Christian work, and give her three daughters in law whom she loved like daughters. Gradually in her late eighties, her recollections clouded, and her communication diminished and her enjoyment of life here disappeared. And finally, although she had never wanted Dad to be the one left behind, she was ready to fly. There was lift off. She was 88. At the age of 92 Dad stood by her side and in the company of us all he said, “Good night sweetheart. I’ll be seeing you soon.” Dad only hung around for six months before he too became airborne. That’s easy to understand.

My Friend Bob

2009-11-04T09:55:00.000-08:00

We are heading home from Phoenix to Seattle to Bellingham. This is a great day.
For the past ten days I have been in Bob's company to provide service to him, as his chauffeur, gofer and you name it. Best of all, we are friends. He has been here for surgery, his thirtieth surgery, a consequence of an horrific vehicle accident in June 2006. In that accident an out of control car struck his rental van. His wife Donna, and his mother Lillian died because of that crash. His daughter Kim and his son in law Brent were severely injured as he himself was. The young couple's several months old son was spared injury.

I helped to officiate the memorial service for the two women more than a month after the accident - sufficient time for the three adults to be well enough to be wheeled into church. Three wheel chairs occupied by surviving members of a loved family moved the congregants to erupt in a spontaneous and heart-felt standing O salted with tears.

These have been difficult years with many challenges for Bob and for me to share these days with him has been my privilege. I love this man of God. We have talked and prayed and laughed much.

What a Great Day! I Held an Art Show

2009-10-20T06:21:00.000-07:00

I held my first real art show Sunday afternoon from 2-5 PM and perhaps 30-40 people came and stayed, looked around and by the conclusion I had moved 10 paintings out of 27 shown. What a wonderful surprise to Christine and me. I sold Greek scenes, French scenes and local agricultural scenes and even three archived watercolours, one of the White Mountains painted in 1988 and two of Muskoka painted in 1991. We had refreshments available. I wore my beret all afternoon. As I greeted people at the door and they saw me in the hat they laughed. Classical music played in the background. Christine set it up very attractively.

I had a handout page with the titles and an indication that if a visitor asked to reserve a painting of interest, a red dot would be placed on the piece. Yesterday we delivered sold items to their new owners, with a card on the back that tells the story behind the painting and has my signature. Now, Christine who was a bit reluctant thinks I should do this every month. Ha,Ha, Ha! I would turn into a painting factory. I returned four large paintings to their show place in Stephanie Cadiex's MLA office where they will hang until the end of November. On November 8th I install many of my remaining paintings in the Watershed Arts Café until the end of November. Perhaps I may hold another show in April or May, that is, if we still have the house which we are still pondering about, selling and downsizing. This coming Sunday I travel with Bob Dobson to Phoenix where he will have his 34th (or some number like that) surgery on his leg and I can keep him company and act as his chauffeur for ten days. We may even slip up to the Grand Canyon. I have never scene that.

And that afternoon event followed my morning of preaching two times at our church, and for the first time in years, Christine and Cari sang a duet as they once did, and it was during Communion which I had the opportunity to lead twice yesterday, that they sang “How Beautiful” – glorious words at the Lord’s Table.

How Beautiful the hands that served
The Wine and the Bread and the sons of the earth
How beautiful the feet that walked
The long dusty road and the hill to the cross
How Beautiful, how beautiful, how beautiful is the body of Christ

How Beautiful the heart that bled
That took all my sins and bore it instead
How beautiful the tender eyes
That choose to forgive and never despise
How beautiful, how beautiful, how beautiful is the body of Christ

And as He lay down His life
We offer this sacrifice
That we will live just as He died
Willing to pay the price
Willing to pay the price

How Beautiful the radiant bride
Who waits for her Groom with His light in her eyes
How Beautiful when humble hearts give
The fruit of pure love so that others may live
How beautiful, how beautiful, how beautiful is the body of Christ

How beautiful the feet that bring
The sound of good news and the love of the King
How Beautiful the hands that serve
The wine and the bread and the sons of the Earth
How Beautiful, how beautiful, how beautiful is the body of Christ

DEATH SEEMS NEAR AT TIMES

2009-09-28T08:05:00.000-07:00

Arriving home last night we listened to a voice message from a friend Wilma telling us that her husband Al had passed away and his memorial service is scheduled for this afternoon. Al was 77 years of age, ten years older than I am.

If my first retirement year has not underscored for me already the transitory nature of life, these moments definitely do. There are more and more of these. So many of our friends, ageing as we are, become ill and some die. I have never been so conscious of the nearness of death. That’s noteworthy because the pastoral work in which I spent forty years of my life required me to visit seniors in nursing homes and hospital rooms and even be near for their dying moments. Yet I remained objective and detached. Now it’s personal.

Al had some health issues in recent years. Nevertheless, since I am 67 years old, age 77 does not seem so far off. I know how quickly time moves. It almost evaporates.

Christine and I, me with my sprained ankle, attended an afternoon 50th anniversary celebration of Arvid and Ruth Olson yesterday. It was very well attended by friends. Given the event, we saw a sea of white hair. As I hobbled along, I fit right in.

Al was a gentle and kind man. I liked him very much. Friends, children, spouse will speak well of him of him today because it will be true.

What will be said of me when I go? That is likely the most profitable aspect of reflections of this sort. I have time and I can make course corrections in some relationships where I need to do that. I can allow some of the graces of God to infect me more profoundly than they have so that I am more like my Master than myself. That would be an improvement. And I can use the time I have profitably. What I am glad about is that friendships have come to mean more to me in this phase of my life than they ever have. That makes life rich and enjoyable.

2 Corinthians 4:16 Therefore we do not despair, but even if our physical body is wearing away, our inner person is being renewed day by day. 17 For our momentary, light suffering is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison 18 because we are not looking at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen. For what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.
2 Corinthians 5:6 Therefore we are always full of courage, and we know that as long as we are alive here on earth we are absent from the Lord – 7 for we live by faith, not by sight. 8 Thus we are full of courage and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. 9 So then whether we are alive or away, we make it our ambition to please him

Today is My Birthday

2009-09-13T08:28:00.000-07:00

Today is My Birthday

Once I was a little boy
Now I am a man
Enjoyed those boyhood years,
Cannot return again.
With passage of years I married well
Fathered a daughter and son
Nurtured them and watched them grow
Each stage was so much fun.
Now I have come this far in life
I am the white haired one
My eyes can see and my hands touch
One, Two, Three grandsons.
Granddaughters? I have two
A young lady and a tot
Each of them loves me
And I love them a lot.
Through the years of my life,
I didn’t think much about heaven
I am considering it now
That I have turned sixty-seven.

September 7th - A Day for Birthdays

2009-09-06T23:14:00.001-07:00

Birthdays on the Same Day

My brother Murray is an artist. He has been many other things in this unfolding life. All of them good. He has been a good brother and an even better son. He lived for these past many years in the same city as our ageing parents and he was their primary caregiver. He has been a preacher, a businessman, an employee. He is a husband, a father and a grandfather, and he excels in these latter categories. If he is your friend, you are blessed. Most recently he has taken on an unusual and forward initiative to establish an art gallery for a new church in downtown St. Catharines. It's an honourable effort to relate to the arts community with some even better news than a prospective buyer. He is not a pastor any longer, but a helper, a supporter, an honest man of whom I am proud.

Today Murray is having a birthday on Monday September 7th. Why not make it a group celebration? Murray is five years younger than me, will celebrate his mmmthikteefhtoommth birthday. But why celebrate it alone. Sooo, his second child Matthew married Cristina several years ago and Cristina was born on the same date of the month of September. So for a little while the two of them enjoyed that day. Now, for the past couple of years another smaller girl has been sharing this same birthday. Murray’s daughter Beth has two daughters and the second sweetheart named Karis was born not on the 6th or the 8th but the 7th. That makes three family members with the same date. This is a 2006 photo of Karis.

Happy Birthday you three.

Take a look at Murray's website Vintage Impressions

Happy 9th Birthday Kailyn

2009-09-05T08:33:00.000-07:00

Kailyn is my numero uno grandchild. When our daughter Cari was born my father and mother came to Mississauga Hospital to see their first grandchild. With great pleasure my dad, father of three boys, peered through the window into the nursery at my pinkly bundled girl with the frizzy whitish blonde hair and blue eyes. Years later my daughter gave birth to a girl of her own, a similarly striking little blue eyed blonde that claimed all of our hearts immediately. We have watched with delight as she has grown up in the company of two younger brothers.

Today is her birthday, and she is celebrating nine years.

We are amazed by the passing of time. Every generation is I suppose. I speculate what she may be like in ten or twelve more years, and I wonder whether Christine and I will still be here to watch her marry.

Right now, I love it when Kailyn leans against my shoulder and allows me to casually play my fingers in her hair when we are both relaxed. She and I tease one another and I know she enjoys that familiarity. I wonder what these next few years will bring to her.

I thank you Lord for my granddaughter Kailyn.

Photos:
* 2008 Kailyn looking her best - WOW!
* 2008 Kailyn and her youngest cousin Kadence, another girl in the family
* 2005 Kailyn, Jayden, Ryan lying on the floor
* 2005 Kailyn, Flower Girl

From the Prairies to Ontario

2009-08-03T08:03:00.000-07:00

It was 1947.

The Second World War had concluded. My father was home from his service in the Canadian Air Force. Canada had the role of trainer of pilots and aircrew for the Allied war effort under the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan, an agreement signed in December 1939 by Canada, Great Britain, Australia, and New Zealand. Dad was one of the aircraft maintenance personnel that prepared aircraft, so he was stationed in Ontario, Vancouver and Skagway, Alaska. He had never shipped overseas.

Following he war my father and mother worked in their home town of Hepburn Saskatchewan but opportunities to advance oneself were absent so they chose the great adventure of moving east, to the golden triangle, the Niagara Peninsula, and specifically St. Catharines, the Garden City. I was four years old.

My parents found a run down wooden shack on Geneva Street in which they could live as they looked for work and settled into this new life. My mom was pregnant. I remember this place being back from the busy road, and consisting of one room, with a curtain pulled over the section where mom’s and dad’s bed was. An out house serviced us. Sunlight shone between the wall boards so before winter, my parents moved into a home owned by my Uncle Ed Willems.

On September 7th 1947 my bother, oops Freudian slip, my brother Murray was born. He was a beautiful looking little guy. It was maddening. He got so much attention. As he grew he had the blond, curly hair and blue eyes. I recall the day of his birth because after sharing with me his good news of a second son, my father took me to Montebello Park and gave me a gift box in which I found a pair of roller skates, the kind that are fastened to shoes with a tightening key. They are also known as quad skates. He sat and watched me for a long time as I skated around the wooden pavilion. The gift was not only celebrative of Murray’s birth but in anticipation of my birthday the following week, September 13th when I turned five years of age.

Montebello Park is located on Ontario Street, in the heart of the downtown area. With an adjacent band shell that still hosts musical concerts today. Montebello Park remains a prominent memory from my childhood and young adult years. On Sunday night my parents would walk with us to sit on a blanket to hear a summer evening concert. Often Mom brought some snacks for us to munch on while we listened. It was in the rose garden of this park that Christine and I and our wedding party had our pictures taken when we began our life together as husband and wife on August 12, 1967.

Pictures
*Dad (Edward)and his first two sons, Ron and Murray
*1910 Montebello Park
*Quad Roller Skates
*Montebello Park Pavillion and Band Stand 2009
*Ron and Murray

Too hot to write

2009-07-30T05:57:00.000-07:00

Sorry, the summer heat has fried my output for the past few days!

Yesterday, was the Hottest day ever recorded in Vancouver. It's been like that for days, and is expected to continue.

I'll get back at my memoirs when I cool off.

Ronnie's Baby Years

2009-07-24T00:01:00.000-07:00

Number one son. Well, at least I was firstborn of the three sons born to Edward and Tina Unruh. Home was the town of Hepburn, Saskatchewan. My two siblings stole the show when they finally arrived. Pictures reflect that life was simple. The homes were wood frame on the open prairies and before required insulation standards. These photos are part of the inheritance that comes to the sons when the parents are gone after eight or more decades of life. Octogenarians and ninety year olds have seen so much change during their lives and I thought my folks handled all of it well. Dad was in the Royal Canadian Air Force during the first years of my infancy and childhood. World War II waged overseas. I got a lot of attention from mom and from the extended family since I was the only little squirt around at the time. As lean as the economy may have been I had a great looking pram, a wash tub and a tricycle but not much understanding about where I should ride this three-wheeled machine. Here I am in the thick stuff which I have found a good deal of the time in my adult years when I golf. I love seeing my dark haired young mom in these early pictures. My brothers didn’t know her this way because she was prematurely grey by age 30. Yes I know what some might say, that it was me who did that to her during my first five years. The photo with the little dog was taken in Mountain Lake Minnesota during a trip my mother took to see her brother Pete. Her visit was taken during one of my father’s deployments with the RCAF. I had great natural curls didn’t I? For as long as we can remember, mom kept our pressed curls, all three of us, in separate paper envelopes in her dresser drawer.

Ronnie and the Great Sturgeon

2009-07-23T00:01:00.000-07:00

How could I know that eventually one day I would live in lower mainland of British Columbia close to the Fraser River where some of the largest Sturgeon fish in the world swim for centuries. Even recently one was caught by a family and brought to the shore for viewing before it was released to swim again. They are distinctive for their elongated bodies, lack of scales, and occasional great size: Sturgeons ranging from 7–12 feet (2-3½ m) in length are common, and some species grow up to 18 feet (5.5 m). Tim Swain caught and released an eleven foot four inch long sturgeon on August 2, 2006 in the waters of the Fraser. If you want an adventure like this, you can contact Cascade Fishing Adventures.

Sturgeon can be eaten. Not everyone wants to try however because most sturgeons are anadromous bottom-feeders. There is concern about the toxicity in the meat.

I don’t think that anyone knew or cared for that matter when I was a boy in Hepburn because people occasionally caught a sturgeon in the Saskatchewan River and it became a celebrated event because it could feed so many if it was a good size. Here I am standing with my Aunt Annie with a reasonably sized fish caught that day. You can see that it’s all I can do to hold my end of this mammoth.

The Milk Horse

2009-07-19T00:01:00.000-07:00

Young people will not remember the delivery of milk to individual homes by a horse pulled wagon. I do. In fact I have another true story from my childhood that I converted to an illustrated yarn in my grandchildren’s story book.Here it is.

One day Ronnie's mother asks Ronnie to do her a favour. She needs some bread to make lunches.
Mommy gives Ronnie some money and she tells him to walk to the corner store where he can buy a loaf of bread.
Ronnie is a polite boy and inside the store he says to the storekeeper, "May I have a loaf of bread?"
The storekeeper brings him a loaf of white bread wrapped in plastic. Ronnie gives the man the money, and the man gives Ronnie some money back. Ronnie says, "Thank you," and then he puts the money in his pocket.
He slides the loaf from the counter and says, "Goodbye." He leaves the store and starts to go home.
On the way, he sees the milk wagon. The milkman is carrying milk bottles to some houses.
In front of the milk wagon is a milk horse. The milk horse pulls the milk wagon. While the milkman is gone, the milk horse stands still.
Ronnie looks at the horse. "Hi, horse," says Ronnie. "Are you hungry?" Ronnie thinks the horse looks hungry.
The only thing that Ronnie has to feed the horse is bread. Ronnie opens the loaf of bread and gives the horse a slice of bread. The horse likes it.
Ronnie gives the horse another piece, and another, and another.
Soon, there is only half a loaf of bread. The milkman comes back to the milk wagon. "Bye, bye horse," says Ronnie.
When Ronnie arrives at home, he gives his mother the loaf of bread. Where is the rest of the bread?" she asks. "Did you eat it?"
"Oh no!" Ronnie says. "I didn't eat it."
"Then who did eat it," asks mother.
"The milk horse ate it," says Ronnie.

You Will Be Bagiki

2009-07-18T00:01:00.000-07:00

This is one of my childhood stories that I have written for children and illustrated in a small book that was a Christmas gift to my grandchildren. While it is a true story it has been embellished through the years. I recount it here as reliably as I can recall it.

When I was between three and four years of age, my parents, Ed and Tina owned a coffee shop in our home town of Hepburn, Saskatchewan. The year would have been 1945 or 46. The shop fronted on to the Main Street and it had a back door into a laneway. Behind the coffee shop was a well, probably unused and also uncovered. It would certainly hold interest to a boy like me.

As I was peering into the depth of this well a man in a pickup truck passed by in the lane and seeing me, out of concern said to me, “If you fall in that well, you will be bagiki.” Bagiki was a word with which I was unfamiliar and with both the rebuke and the mystery word I ran inside to tell my father what happened and to ask him what bagiki meant. He didn’t know but he assured me with a smile that it wouldn’t be good. My father never forgot that word and as he retold the story through the years, the word became synonymous in family parlance with anything that might be nasty or unpleasant in the extreme.

When I wrote the story, I wasn’t sure how one should spell the word, and when asking family members I received a variety of opinions. For many years I envisioned its spelling as I have recorded it here. BAGIKI. When we presented the gift book, Christine and I also gave each grandchild a T-shirt with the caption, “you will be bagiki.”

Bob Skates

2009-07-17T00:01:00.000-07:00

Winter temperatures in Hepburn, Saskatchewan can be as low as -30 to -40°C and wind can make temperatures feel even colder. Skating and Hockey was popular during the days of my early childhood yet these were outdoor sports.

I remember my bobskates. Have you heard of these? If that name is not familiar to you, you will nonetheless have likely seen these convenient attachments that enable a child to learn how to skate on two blades rather than one. I may have been three years old when I pushed my shaky little body around the slippery surface of the outdoor rink close to Main Street and close to my Uncle Harry’s hardware store.

The name bobskate derived from the same word used for bob-sleigh and bobsled. A bob was one of the wooden runners on the sleigh or skate.

A Pink Wedding – My Mom and Dad

2009-07-16T00:01:00.000-07:00

It was 1941. The war was on in Europe. Who knew what the future would bring. Mom was in love with Dad. He was the youngest son in a respected church going family. He played hockey and ball on local teams. He completed grade eleven before beginning work at various jobs in the community. Then he owned and operated a gas station, well the one and only gas station in Hepburn. His brother Harry owned the local hardware store. His father was the town Reeve. Dad, Edward by name and known as Eddie, was a debonair man, prematurely bald, with a manicured pencil mustache. He whistled everywhere he walked. Church was not on his priority list. For that reason, when Mom fell for him, the counsel she received was cautious.

Mom had worked ever since she was a teenager. Compelled to work for the sake of the family she had to end school after grade 9. She always regretted this and bore a sense of educational inferiority through her adult years. It was against the general will of the Christian community for her as a committed Christian to marry someone who had not yet settled eternal matters with God as far as anyone knew. Dad and Mom loved each other. He was 26 years of age and Mom was 22. So on June 12, 1941 Edward Unruh and Tina (Doerksen) Willems exchanged wedding vows. Mom couldn’t afford a traditional wedding dress, white and clearly sanctified. She wore pink and she wore a hat. They honeymooned in Saskatoon. They were very happy.

Ed and Tina wasted little time in beginning a family which began with me, firstborn, on Sunday, September 13, 1942. WWII was raging and Hepburn’s inhabitants were primarily Mennonite people with a pacifist position with regard to conflict. They would be exempt as conscientious objectors. Dad was not bound by such religious strictures. My father had already made up his mind that he was a Canadian and he bore responsibility for the nation into which he was born and into which his child was born. Against the predictable community behaviour he and a handful of young townsmen enlisted. Dad joined the Royal Canadian Air Force and Mom became a war bride who would spend much of the next years on her own. Dad was never shipped overseas. When he was sent to Gananoque, Ontario, Mom was able to accompany him. When he was sent to White Horse for an extended time, she felt his absence. They would remain in love and together for 66 years.

Photos:
• Mom in her wedding dress and hat June 12, 1941
• Mom and me in the Hepburn Central Office and residence where mom and dad operated the switchboard.

Grandpa Unruh – Cornelius K. Unruh

2009-07-15T00:01:00.000-07:00

Only a few recollections of Grandpa remain to me from my early years, but I do recall as a four year old, riding along with Grandpa in the pickup truck to deliver a barrel of kerosene to a farm. I recall 73 year old Grandpa hoisting the barrel and placing it on the bed of the truck. We drove to the Saskatchewan River where Grandpa drove the truck aboard a ferry boat. Once on the other side Grandpa piloted the truck to the farm where Grandpa lifted the barrel and set it on the ground. On the way home, we stopped at a small store and Grandpa bought an ice cream cone for each of us. I remember his large hands with which he handed me my cone and with the other tussled my blond hair. I had no idea then about my Grandpa’s life.

My paternal grandpa’s name was Cornelius Kornelius Unruh. He was born on May 2, 1873 and he lived in Timirbilat (now Razdalnoye), Crimea. According to custom his middle name Kornelius, was the same as his father’s first name, whose entire handle incidentally was Kornelius Kornelius. Cornelius K. Unruh was one of three of the Unruh siblings to emigrate from Soviet controlled Crimea. When Stalinism became violent against Mennonites, the other four family members were almost certainly taken to Siberian labour camps. In 1893 at age 20, Cornelius Unruh emigrated with his older sister Aganetha (Agnes) and her husband (Henry Kroeker) and lived in South Dakota for three years. There he met and married Katherine Loewen of the Jacob Loewen family and they lived in a log cabin with a dirt floor which was regularly swept and kept smooth. Their daughter Annie was born in Marion, South Dakota. They moved to Harney, North Dakota for seven years. C.K. Unruh as he was known or simply C.K., at the age of 30, purchased for the price of $10.00, a ¼ section of land northeast of Hepburn, Saskatchewan. His sister Annie and her husband homesteaded in Herbert, Saskatchewan. All three of his sons, Neale (Cornelius), Harry, and Edward were born on the Hepburn farm. Edward my father, was born when C.K. was forty-two and he was 69 years of age by the time I arrived. CK was well known as a farmer, then a school board trustee, a Reeve, an active churchman, International Harvester agent, Hardware store owner, an auctioneer, a hail adjuster for the province of Saskatchewan and later a helper in Harry’s (his middle son) hardware store (delivering Kerosene among other things). He was on the original Mennonite Central Committee and on the committee that sponsored Russian Mennonites to emigrate to Canada. In 1927 the Unruhs moved into town and also took time to travel to South Dakota to visit Grandma’s sister Marie (nee Unruh) Kunkel as well as her brother Jacob in Kansas. Two of their children predeceased them, Harry age 40 in 1948 and Annie also in 1948 at the age of 49.

In August 1955 Grandpa and Grandma sold all of their belongings and moved into a single bedroom in my parents’ house in St. Catharines, Ontario. I was thirteen and I recall my surprise at his appearance. His posture was bent and this large barrel-chested man was bent short with huge arthritic knees visible through his trousers. His hands trembled much of the time, even to feed himself. Grandma was diabetic and required a daily injection which he was in the custom of administering with his shaky hand. Grandma lived with us for sixteen months and died of a heart attack on December 14, 1957 at the age of 83. I pulled my pillow over my head to subdue the sound of the old man’s agony as he cried, “Oh my Tina, my Tina!” On May 16, 1959 he passed away at age 86.

Photos:
1. Grandpa Unruh, me (Ronnie), and Dad (Edward) outside the Saskatoon railroad station. My father was 5’6” and Grandpa was noticeably taller. This was the occasion when my father and mother made the move off of the Prairies to settle in Ontario, probably 1947.
2. The Unruh men. From the right is my Uncle Neale (arrived from B.C.), my brother Murray (5 yrs younger than I), my brother Neale (1 yrs younger), and my father Edward.

Low German Language, Grandma and Sugar Bread

2009-07-14T00:01:00.000-07:00

I understand the unique dialect known as Plautdietsch, otherwise known as Low German. It is my lifelong regret that I cannot speak it. Here is how this came to be.

I knew her in the formative years of my childhood, my father’s mother, Katrina Loewen, my Grandma Unruh. We lived in the prairie town of Hepburn. Grandma and Grandpa lived in town having moved from their farm years earlier. They were now in their seventies. I surprise myself with the clarity of my recollection of that small house. During those years when I was three and four I was at her house a lot. My parents ran a coffee shop on the town’s main street. Inside Grandma’s back door one entered the kitchen which had a large wood burning stove. There was a small pantry on the right in which Grandma kept her jars of preserves, jams and much more. All of this was done during summer months in preparation for the long severe winters. I remember particularly the large Mason jars with white cooked chicken preserved in liquid. In the depth of winter this meat would be baked or roasted and one would never know it had spent so much time swimming in its Mason aquarium.

When I was at her home we talked together. She spoke the Low German dialect that all the townspeople spoke and she required that I speak to her in English. She wanted desperately to learn how to speak the dominant language in Canada long before mandated French/English bilingualism. While I liked anything Grandma Unruh made for me, I was a sucker for home baked bread with butter and white sugar sprinkled on top. She could keep me there for hours. As I fed my sweet tooth I heard and learned Plautdietsch but I never spoke it. Years later when I was twelve and thirteen, Grandma and Grandpa left their Hepburn home to live with us in Ontario. They were in their eighties then and Grandma still did not speak English.

What a privilege to have a second language, even one as uniquely peasant and appealing as Low German. No translation does justice to some of the nuances of this language when telling stories and sharing jokes.

Mennonite communities settled in Saskatchewan and Manitoba, Canada using Low German in their religious services and communities. These people were largely ethnic Germans whose ancestors moved to newly acquired Russian territories in Ukraine before emigrating eventually to the Americas in the 19th and early 20th centuries. The type of Low German spoken in these communities and in the Midwest region of the United States has diverged since emigration. The survival of the language is tenuous in many places and has died out in some places where assimilation has occurred.

If you are interested:
* A Learning to Speak Plautdietsch Site:
* A Low German Grammar is a very helpful site
* Listen to a podcast called plautcast http://www.plautcast.com/
* Historical Society Site
* Elmer Reimer has produced a Plautdietsch New Testament in both written and spoken form, and both are available on the internet and the Biblegateway site and can be used simultaneously.
* Canada’s only low German radio station

Hepburn’s Elevator #901 and Me

2009-07-13T00:01:00.000-07:00

Hepburn was my home for the first five years of my life.

As it was in 1942 it is still a small farming and bible college town located 40 kilometres northwest of Saskatoon. A rail line was constructed and was operating in 1909. After a local farmer named Rowitt Hepburn applied for a post office permit on his farm, Hepburn became a recognized village in 1919. Within ten years the town population reached 800 people. Located beside the rail line was Saskatchewan’s Grain Elevator No. 901, which was built in 1928. It served the grain farming community for decades until the great depression and the drought years of the thirties when the population dropped to less than 300. Today there are 500 residents. The rail line was shut down by the province in 1989 and subsequently most provincial elevators were torn down. Hepburn’s elevator No. 901 survived because of enthusiastic local plans to turn it into the Museum of Wheat.

At the age of three, a friend and I ventured where small children do not belong. We peddled our tricycles to the yawning open doors of the elevator, walked inside, found a large platform that moved up and down with the flip of a large brass handle fixed to the wall, and we took turns riding it until a large man confronted us. No doubt he was terrified that two children were so close to danger and he rapidly terrified us as he told us the perils of falling into a bin of grain. I have not set foot inside an elevator since that moment. I would love to visit Hepburn’s museum one day.

I have written and illustrated children’s stories based on my childhood experiences and in fact printed a simple copy as a Christmas gift for my grandchildren.The Wheat Museum Page

This Blog will Change - Look for it on July 13

2009-07-08T08:00:00.000-07:00

For the next several days, I am reconsidering and redeveloping this blog. The site is undergoing changes. For the past year it has served as an outlet for me to express many of my observations about retirement. Yesterday I realized that in many of my postings I had digressed from this purpose to comment about numerous other day to day and world events and people. That confuses blog readers.

I intend to refocus this site and to assist this, I have begun a new blog called GPS. GPS will allow me to speak to the issues of the day as well as to general topics of interest, all within the framework of a biblical world view. You will see the link to it on the right sidebar. Please bookmark and try it and I will welcome your examination of the first few subjects of interest, the first of which was about the person who dominated the news that day, July 8 2009, Michael Jackson. Memoirs will now contain bio stories only.

Personal Branding

2009-07-07T00:01:00.000-07:00

A NEW LEARNING
I met an interesting man the other day. He and is wife made the decision many years ago to live on a sailboat at False Creek in Vancouver. A 42 foot sailboat is their home and also their RV when they choose to navigate coastal waters and beyond. It can also serve as an office for his new employment as an environmental real estate agent. Having retired from a different occupation he is now seeking to market himself effectively and that is why he came to mind now.

I alluded yesterday to the importance of personal branding in order to enhance one’s reputation, credibility, recognition as an expert and to advance one’s career. Personal branding describes a process where individuals differentiate themselves from a crowd by articulating their unique value proposition, whether professional or personal, and then leverage it across platforms with a consistent message to achieve a specific goal.

And here is the stunning reality. At 66 years of age if I want this kind of recognition, I either have to research the ways or higher someone to assist me. Other responsible adults similarly find personal branding impossible to fit into already busy lives. Generation Y however knows how to brand themselves instinctively using media tools such as blogs and social networks like Facebook, LinkedIn and Brazen Careerist. They become well known this way.

Gen Y is marketing itself without thinking about it. It goes online more than any other generation and cell phones are an extension of their hands. It instant messages and Skypes and podcasts and blogs and twitters and YouTubes and is getting the word out about themselves and so are we every time we use one of these networks. The fact is Generation Y needs to be good at these marketing tools because as it matures, jobs are declining, industries are downsizing and cutting back. They are under pressure to rethink how they are perceived and how they can stand out from the pack.

Is it Important to be Better Than Anyone Else?

2009-07-06T02:00:00.000-07:00

A NEW LEARNING
In reflecting on Roger Federer’s monumental achievement on Sunday, I asked myself, “What must it be like to be better at something than everyone else in the world?” Accompanying questions might be, “Is it important to be better than everyone else?” or perhaps, “Am I better at something than everyone else in the world?”

I came to some conclusions. It’s more important to some people than others to be better at something than anyone else. It becomes the dominant motivator of competitive people regardless of the contest. It is enormously beneficial to careers and advancing oneself in the world.

Roger Federer was better this year at Wimbledon than all other male tennis players. Federer won the Men’s Single Trophy for the sixth time, and in the process won his fifteenth grand slam title, one more than Pete Sampras who retired in 2002. He did it by beating Andy Roddick in the thirtieth game of the fifth set, the longest title match in history. He made history at many levels. All of this success has branded Federer, which is a good thing monetarily. His father wore a ball cap with a classy signature RF logo that now extols Roger’s celebrity. He and Nike have partnered to produce a catwalk style of apparel for the man – what a racket! His monogrammed shoes are sold at the Bay.

Some further conclusions. It is never too late to try to find that something in which you are better than anyone.

For instance, Mike Flynt is the best sixty year old college football player ever. Well he is the only grandfather to ever play college ball. He missed his fourth year of eligibility thirty-seven years ago, and at age 59 asked for a chance to make the team again. He made it in 2007 with Sul Ross State University in Texas. Flynt has given new meaning to being a college senior. Flynt is a strength coach by trade and was a conditioning coach at Nebraska, Oregon and Texas A&M. He is the inventor of the Powerbase Fitness exercise equipment. He is a grandfather and is retired. He has written a book called ‘SENIOR.’ Here is his personal and fitness website.

Ron's Opinion: I am not better at anything than everyone else, and it is no longer important for me to be better than anyone else but I will strive to do what only I can do and to do it so well that it makes a positive impression or contribution within my influence circle.

Tim Hortons Returning to Canada

2009-07-05T06:16:00.000-07:00

A NEW LEARNING
In spite of the fact that Timmy’s has been owned since 1995 by U.S. hamburger chain Wendy’s International Inc., Tim Hortons is securely linked to the Canadian identity. After all, its founder was the legendary Tim Horton, Hall of Fame defenseman for Toronto Maple Leafs, who died tragically in a vehicle accident in 1974. Horton’s coffee shops are familiar landmarks in our communities for as long as most of us can remember.

Well, Tim Hortons is coming back to Canada. It is not nostalgically motivated but entirely business. Currently incorporated in the Unites States, the company filed notice with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission, stating that it proposes to reorganize itself as a ‘Canadian public company’ in order to take advantage of the decreasing Canadian corporate tax rates. The new company would maintain the name Tim Horton’s Inc. The Canadian federal government is whittling down the federal corporate income tax rate to 15 per cent by 2012 from 22.12 per cent in 2007 and the current rate of 19 percent. Good for you Harper. The U.S. rate is presently 33 percent. You blew it Obama. The company has also considered that 90 percent of its revenue comes from Canadian operations. The company has 2,930 restaurants in Canada making it Canada's largest restaurant chain, 527 restaurants in the U.S. and a presence in Ireland and Britain, primarily through self-serve outlets in grocery stores. Hortons plans to open 150 to 180 new stores in 2009. The company reported a profit of $66.4-million or 37 cents a share in the first quarter of 2009, up 7.5 per cent from $61.8-million or 33 cents a year earlier.

I know people who dislike Hortons coffee and many more who are dedicated drinkers. I did not say addicted but dedicated because urban legends take care of the addiction references. One dated urban legend claimed that Tim Horton’s coffee contains the secret additive of nicotine and another that Tim Hortons coffee contains higher than normal levels of caffeine. An alternative conspiracy theory about Tim Hortons coffee rumors that Tim Hortons coffee has MSG in it. All of these implications have been disproved by independent testing as well as those done by the Canadian Food Inspection Agency. Their website asserts that there is no truth these urban legends.

Shareholders must approve the reorganization. D-Day is September 2nd.

In comparison to Starbuck’s customarily bold enjoyable flavours, Hortons is an unexciting but pleasant beverage. People who prefer Hortons generally do not like a strong coffee taste but love the lower per cup cost.

George Sand and the Hotel Named After the Author

2009-07-04T00:01:00.000-07:00

A NEW LEARNING
In the city of Loches in the Loire Valley, Christine and I stayed at the George Sand Hotel, the guest house that carries her name. Yes, George Sand was a woman. She was born Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin and she became the most famous female writer of 19th century France. She authored novels, stories, plays, essays and memoirs. She was the epitome of French romantic idealism and in her literature she questioned sexual identity and gender destinies in fiction. She demanded for women the daily freedom of life that men took for granted. She wrote "The world will know and understand me someday. But if that day does not arrive, it does not greatly matter. I shall have opened the way for other women."

As brilliant a writer as she was recognized to be, she was prominent as much for her lifestyle and personality. The time in which she lived, with its restrictions and conventions, drew notoriety to her way of life. Aurore was married to a baron, scandalously left him, taking her two children to live on her own. She became friends with many artists, writers, and musicians like Eugène Delacroix and Franz Liszt and had romantic relationships with others, most notably Frédéric Chopin. She was loud, lewd and shocking. She was anything but the typical Parisian lady of the 1800’s. Her protest of treatment of womankind was manifest in her dress, that is no dress. She wore men’s clothing, suits, pants (long before that was acceptable), ties and a top hat. She smoked cigars. She became iconic because of her fame as a writer.

And Christine and I stayed in a charming hotel named after her, an aged old building, with a tiny entrance off a seamy street, with rooms, on three levels to which you climbed with luggage round and round the tightest circular staircase with head bumping low spots in the ceiling. And of course, our room, because we chose to pay less, was up with the pigeons or whatever else requires less oxygen. It looked like the attic with the structural support beams serving as obstacles en route to our beds each night. Ours is the tiny gable window in the roof. It did have a great view over a waterfall and the sound of running water 24/7 and it had a fine restaurant with good food. Then we learned that Paris has a George Sand Hotel with an elegant environment and beautiful furnishings which would have set us back a few Euros. Oh yes, on the outskirts of the city there is another less elaborate one with the same name, Hotel George Sand, Courbevoie, France; and another at 26 rue des Mathurins

The pleasant French proprietors knew nothing about George Sand.

At Hofstra University in 1976 Friends of George Sand founded the George Sand Association as a literary society, the purpose of which is to encourage and foster research and scholarship on George Sand.

Sand's "Story of My Life" is available from Amazon

Madness at Oradour Sur Glane (2nd part of 2)

2009-07-03T00:01:00.000-07:00

A NEW LEARNING
Christine and I learned as we walked the empty streets and read the literature that in 1944 Oradour was unmistakable from other nearby French villages and it was known for its pleasant surroundings and its prosperous Limousin market. Residents would have heard within a day about the June 6th Allied landing in Normandy but those beaches were distant and Oradour was calm. Then the Panzer division arrived. German units throughout France were on high alert as soon as the Allies landed on the Normandy beaches. German mobile units advanced north to stop the Allied advance into France. French Resistance groups stepped up activity to thwart the Germans. On June 7th to slow the Panzer division, Resistance partisans blew up a railway bridge at Saint-Julien 10 kms from Oradour and several soldiers were killed. Das Reich ignored St. Julien and marched to Oradour, perhaps because it was non threatening.

As the armoured vehicles and troops entered the village, the people were curious but unalarmed, so when the village drum was sounded, all inhabitants calmly made their way to the village green, ostensibly to have their identity cards verified. Once there, they were divided into groups, men in one, women and children in the other. Fear developed now. Women and children were herded to the church and secluded there. The men were divided and led into three barns, two garages and one hangar. Women heard machine gun fire as the men were massacred in these buildings. Soldiers covered the bodies with combustibles and ignited the piles of corpses. Remarkably several men under the bodies, Mathieu Borie, Clement Broussaudier, Marcel Darthout, Robert Hebras and Yvan Roby survived the bullets and fled into the bushes.

Several hours later, soldiers entered the church to light fuses to a large container near the altar which upon their departure exploded, filling the church with suffocating smoke. As the women pushed through a sacristy door, soldiers cut them down with gunfire, entered the church killing everyone and then set the church on fire. One woman known as Madame Rouffanche survived by jumping from a window was wounded by gunfire but lay motionless in the church garden.

After killing all the townspeople that they could find, the soldiers set the town on fire and early the next day, laden with booty stolen from the houses, they left. The soldiers journeyed to Normandy and joined the rest the German army divisions attempting to throw the allied invasion back into the sea. They failed.

Yesterday I speculated that God may again be disappointed with the humanity that populates our planet. While he is the God of infinite attributes including mercy, are we approaching a moment when God will once more take decisive action of some kind? We must be grateful that after the universal flood recorded in Genesis, when God wiped out humanity because they were continuously and only evil, God made a promise never to repeat this universal aqua catastrophe. Genesis 9 “Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him: 9 ‘I now establish my covenant with you and with your descendants after you 10 and with every living creature that was with you—the birds, the livestock and all the wild animals, all those that came out of the ark with you — every living creature on earth. 11 I establish my covenant with you: Never again will all life be cut off by the waters of a flood; never again will there be a flood to destroy the earth.’" In view of human wickedness, God did something full of grace - sent his son to substitute himself in order to bear our punishment, from the worst of us to the best.

That's why good news (gospel) sounds like this. John 3:16-18 "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God."

Can you tell that the evidence of madness I observed in Oradour affected me? I have merely repeated what the Bible tells me.

Madness at Oradour Sure Glane (1st part of 2)

2009-07-02T00:01:00.000-07:00

A NEW LEARNING
Oradour Sure Glane is a French town without inhabitants. However, thousands of visitors walk its streets each month of every year. Christine and I were two of these guests during one of our day trips. Neither of us was prepared for what we saw as this sign invited us to remember.

Once a vibrant community, it was razed and all its occupants massacred by a Nazi army division following the D-Day invasion by Allied Forces in Normandy. The village was far from the heavy war activity and its families were uninvolved with the war effort. They were innocents. Yet so comprehensive was the German occupation of France that even an isolated community like Oradour Sure Glane was invaded and controlled by Hitler’s company.

On Saturday June 10th 1944 soldiers of the Der Führer Regiment of the 2nd Waffen-SS Panzer Division Das Reich murdered 642 men, women and children without cause and without explanation. As Christine and I walked within the remaining ruins of the shops and homes, the church and municipal buildings, we were struck by the silence. Groups of tourists moved speechless through the streets. Captivated by pathos we were overwhelmed with sadness at the human cruelty evident around us.

Humanity is not improving of its own accord. Humankind had not been on planet earth very long before the extent of its depravity was obvious. Mind you now, I am not getting preachy. I am simply reading what it says. Scripture attests that human wickedness offended the Creator so much that he regretted making the creature. Genesis 6:5-6 tells us “The LORD saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And the LORD was sorry that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart.”

Then came this pivotal response. So the LORD said, "I will blot out man whom I have created from the face of the land, man and animals and creeping things and birds of the heavens, for I am sorry that I have made them “(Genesis 6:7). The cataclysmic flood followed. Only Noah and his family survived because Noah found grace in God’s eyes. I wonder how God thinks about humanity today.

I deduce that there is no point in asking whether any of us might find grace with God today because possessing grace innately or through performance is not the definition of grace. I marvel at this following clear explanation. Ephesians 2:7-9 (New International Version) “…in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. 8 For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith, and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God, 9 not by works, so that no one can boast."

Wow! all that humanity must do is to accept the gift and Oradours can be avoided. Or perhaps more to the point is to say that when the gift is ignored Oradours will be an inevitable result.

Canada Day

2009-07-01T00:01:00.000-07:00

A NEW LEARNING
Christine and I speak English so we were easily mistaken for Americans by people in Europe. “Americans?” they would query, and we would say, “No, Canadian.” “Canadien!” they would respond affirmingly. We learned many years ago that Canadians are regarded with respect throughout the world so we travelled in France with Canadian flags sewn conspicuously on backpacks and pasted on luggage.

I am proud to be a Canadian. I am proud of Canada. Yes I know Molson’s made a compelling and humorous video a few years ago in which a young man articulates Canada’s identifying features and loudly proclaims his loyalty.

July 1st
Did you know that July 1st was established as the Dominion Day holiday in 1879? A few things have changed since then, and while we still have our British connection, we are more resolutely Canadian. So, this day is our national day, Canada Day.

Name
Out of interest, do you know where our country’s name originated?
Here is the nutshell version. In 1535 two Huron-Iroquois youth told Jacques Cartier about a route and used the term “Kanata” to refer to the village of “Stadacona” (later Quebec City) since the word "kanata" means ‘village” or “settlement.” Cartier employed the word to refer to Stadacona as well as the entire surrounding area. As time passed and explorers and fur traders the name applied to increasingly larger tracts of land. As an official name it was used for the first time in 1791 when Quebec divided into Upper and Lower Canada colonies. It was at Confederation in 1867 that the new country took the name Canada.

Flag
In 1996 February 15th was declared National Flag of Canada Day. That marked the day when in 1965 the new red and white maple leaf flag was raised over Parliament Hill in Ottawa and in hundreds of communities across the country.

Anthem
Celebrated composer Calixa Lavallée composed the musical score and French lyrics were written by Sir Adolphe-Basile Routhier and the piece was first sung on June 24 1880. It was 100 years later on July 1, 1980 that “O Canada” was proclaimed Canada’s national anthem. The official English version includes changes recommended in 1968 by a Special Joint Committee of the Senate and House of Commons. The French lyrics remain unaltered. You can hear an instrumental rendition here.

Happy Canada Day!

At the Beach

2009-06-30T00:01:00.000-07:00

A NEW LEARNING
I did this quick watercolour the other day. A pencil sketch first on an 8X10 inch sheet and then I applied watercolour paint. Once my favourite medium, I have not painted a watercolour picture in years. This one probably looks like I need a refresher course. I do enjoy this medium and I enjoyed painting this small piece. I want to do more of it. That inspiration came from watching some of the best watercolourists in the world during my travels in France. Watercolour is called aquarelle in France.

Watercolour permits some refreshing and spontaneous effects. Since the paints flow and since you can let colours bleed into one another, the many resultant soft edges produce an impression rather photographic realism, at least when I use them. On the other hand one can also achieve precise lines by preventing the flow of colours. Didier Brousse is a master watercolourist who lives in Lourmarin where Christine and I lived for two weeks in April 09. His work is extraordinarily marvelous. His reputation and international sales have enabled him to charge superstar prices for his paintings. He has his own gallery in Lourmarin, an out of the way Luberon town, yet one that is frequented by tourists. I cannot refer you to internet ogling of his work since his website is in development and crazily there is a French photographer with the identical name so Googling picks up his references. Try as I did, there was only one site that had an image of one of his paintings, and certainly not one of his best.

I have found Mary Penley Fine Artists online gallery that shows some of his work.
The final photo is of Brousse's own studio in Lourmarin. I spent some time there relishing his craft.

It’s a Good Thing I am not Pregnant

2009-06-29T00:01:00.000-07:00

A NEW LEARNING
Some of you have been helpful to me with your advice regarding my osteoarthritis. The osteo was a pain even before we left for France on April 19th. At the Marseilles airport we picked up our rental vehicle. We saved $400 by contracting a manual transmission. However, I was concerned that my arthritic hands would get overused with the constant shifting right hand and the wheel gripping left hand. I found that I was soon accustomed to the exercise and I felt fine.

A couple of days ago I expressed my disappointment that my hands constantly ache and impede my painting. I purchased something called Voltaren and was not thrilled with what I read about its potential side effects. Someone recommended Arthrotec. I did some online research of both products and potentially the cure may be worse than the disease. Each contains something called diclofenac sodium and that appears to cause a few users some grief.

It was little comfort to read in the preface that “Side effects can be mild or severe, temporary or permanent.” What kind of caution is that? Common side effects are • diarrhea • gas • heartburn and some less common are • abnormal vision • acne • change in taste sensation • decreased appetite • dry mouth • irritability or nervousness • loss of hair • muscle pain • decrease in sexual ability • tingling, burning, or prickling sensations • trembling or shaking • trouble swallowing • vaginal bleeding.

There is also a warning that “if any of these symptoms occur contact your doctor immediately: black, tarry stools , bleeding or crusting sores on lips, blood in urine or stools, bruises or red spots on the skin, chest pain, chills, confusion, continuing thirst, convulsions (seizures), cough or hoarseness, disorientation, drowsiness, fainting, fever with or without chills, fluid retention, general feeling of illness, heartburn or indigestion, increased blood pressure, increased heart rate, increased weight gain, itching of the skin, irregular heartbeat, large, flat, blue, or purplish patches on the skin, lightheadedness or dizziness.” We should be specially cautious if we are seniors or pregnant. It’s a good thing I am not pregnant. I used Voltaren for three days and stopped it feeling sure that I was experiencing at least ten of the above symptoms. My imaginative mind is active.

Someone else wrote to me about the use of therapy gloves designed to relieve arthritic pain. I found some and bought the right hand. I slipped it on and told the druggist “I feel like Michael Jackson.” Then upon quick reflection on Michael's death that morning I corrected, “No, on second thought I don’t feel like Michael.” The fabric contains ceramic fibre which reflects body heat into tissue and improves blood circulation. I have been wearing it and there is some relief. I simply do not want to ingest stuff for the sake of my hands.(Prolotex Therapy Gloves and ThermoFlow Therapy Gloves)

Many people are receiving help from the two ointment products named above and experiencing none of the side effects.Oh, and I purchased only one hand for now because they are $44 each.

Health Canada's Approval - it is fully endorsed after testing