KADENCE TURNS TWELVE TODAY

10,11,12. She turns Twelve today, my youngest grand-girl. And I do marvel at the sensation of speed for the passing of years, since on Kadence’s second birthday I wrote this … “She is a cuddler. She comes to me with ease and climbs aboard my lap, lays her head on my chest and loves me. We will walk for long times together, her head on my shoulder as I sing nonsensical songs while she tucks into my warmth and the reverb of my voice. It’s a good match.”

I reprise a poem that I composed shortly after she was born. It has turned out suitably descriptive of the young woman celebrating today. 

DAYS OLD, SHE SLEEPS
Long awaited she came, first a wife for a son
Then a daughter for them both
A sister for their boy.

A new sight for older eyes
Another life to love and nurture.
And now on one of those following days
The two girls sleep
Gina and her child.
'Kadence' meaning “with rhythm”
Is rarely given
So Kadence with a K she is
A strident girl, a girl with a voice
A girl who will be heard
A girl who will sing and laugh
And make parents proud
And give grandparents joy.
They sleep now, one only days old
But soon we will wonder where the years went. 

And today, March 13, 2019, Kadence will fully possess each moment, posing, smiling and filling everyone around her with cheerfulness. Happy Big Birthday sweet girl, Kadence.

ANNUAL ICE CREAM CONE DAY

It was Saturday March 8th and once again it was Ice Cream Cone Day for our family. Each year for the past few years we have celebrated the birthday of my father, Edward Richard Unruh, born March 8th 1915 and who passed away in 2008. When I was a boy one of the biggest treats dad could give us was a stop at the Ice Cream parlour. We thought he was doing it for us but as we grew older we realized that ice cream was one of his favourite foods. I was a nine year old walking with him, each with a cone in hand, and as we turned a corner several blocks away from the ice cream shop, he said, "that tasted like more." So we turned around and went back for a second. Those little pleasures were infrequent in those days, but memorable. As a senior he could be driving in a car with us and spot an ice cream sign and clearly indicate that he thought it was time to stop for a treat. Our family of eleven here in B.C. celebrate the day. I know in other years my brothers in Ontario have done the same.

This past Saturday, we met at our home, with several ice cream flavours and cones ready, and the understanding that you could have as many cones as you could eat. It doesn't get crazy, just fun. So, dessert first, then pizza, and a little while later, dessert again.   Thanks Dad.

JUNE 4 IS MOM'S BIRTHDAY

On this fourth of June, I am on a return flight from Toronto to Vancouver having been away for five weeks. We have been in Wales and England honouring my wife Christine as she celebrates her seventy years.

As I fly I am remembering my mother Tina, for whom this day was a birthday. She lived to celebrate 88 of those birthdays and she has been away from her family since November 2007.

We miss her still yet time passes quickly enough that the blurring of memories occurs in spite of our desire to remember. It is photographic images that arouse the recall.

What an interesting woman Mom was. Born in Saskatchewan in a farming community, living in Waldheim and Hepburn, she had a grade nine education and she began to work hard at an early age. She was industrious from the start, knowing how to sew, how to bake and to cook. She did unskilled work, clerking and switchboard operator. She married Edward Richard Unruh, but soon their lives were interrupted by WWII and my father’s enlistment into the Royal Canadian Air Force. The post war years began with them teaming to start and to run a Coffee Shop in Hepburn. Soon however, Dad felt that opportunity for employment and a future existed in Ontario and the family, Dad, me, and a pregnant Mom moved to St. Catharines ON.

I AM A SEPTUAGENARIAN ACTION FIGURE

It's September 13th, and once again as it does every year, my birthday celebration has arrived. This year the day has substantially more significance for me, in that while I have been enjoying a few of the perks of my senior classification, I am now a confirmed codger. I have turned 70 years of age today. I am a septuagenarian. Can you see the numerical French root 'sept' in yet another English term?

The term might be used in the following manner but I will not let this be true of me, 'He sat there, a portly septuagenarian sunk deeply into a leather chair." Rather, I intend it be said of me, "Ron was the first septuagenarian action figure." I may have a long way to go since although I go to the gym each morning at 6 AM, I am failing to lose any significant weight. My tummy although still muffin topped is hard. Because of that, although Christine knows that I leave for the gym, she suspects I am stopping for a fast-food breakfast.

The world continues to be obsessed with youth and beauty and success and that won't change. The fashion world gravitates to 20-somethings and that too is predictable. However, I have earned my sartorial stripes and I am a fabulous septuagenarian as is my wife Christine. Our style is timeless and it has little to do with fashion or skin-care. We are simply sensational and have the confidence to prove it. We own our looks and at 70, I am cool.

What a Wonderful 70th Birthday I had.
I went to the gym, shopped for a rose bush and a plum tree, took my grandchildren and daughter Cari for after-school pre-dinner ice cream cones at Andy’s in White Rock, walked the beach, came home for aperitifs & Lasagna supper with my family (11 of us) courtesy of Christine, my requested dessert (my mother’s Egg Custard Pie Recipe) went on a scavenger hunt organized by my grandchildren, sat while family read blessings to me capped with a prayer, then to each of my children’s home to plant the rose bush and the plum tree. And all children to bed. And then the grand finale, a serendipity … en route home I decided to drive past our old home and there we saw our kitchen stove, only 3 years old sitting on the front lawn available to any claimant of garbage collector … nothing wrong with it … so, I quickly returned to my son Jeff’s place, we hooked up his utility trailer, picked up the stove and delivered it to a family with four small children whom we knew could benefit by having it.

Today is My Birthday

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.

Jeff’s 39th Birthday

A NEW LEARNING
Happy Birthday son.

Your age makes my place in the world unquestionably clear. You are approaching middle years with a small son of your own. I am the grandfather and I am a senior. I marvel at the truth that my little boy has become this impressive man who makes me proud.

You were a beautiful boy with blond hair and hazel eyes. You were your kid sister’s constant companion. You were a southpaw and I loved seeing you throw and draw and handle things with your left hand. I didn’t correct your natural preference and I was bugged by educators who did not understand the special needs of lefties, such as school desks with a supporting left arm and scissors designed for a left hand. You compensated successfully.

You made your sister laugh, frequently and uncontrollably. You have always had a great sense of humour which you honed and enhanced with sarcasm, which has systematically broken me up. Good on you. Laughter helps to make life work.

In contrast with your comedy was a low frustration level. You displayed an occasional exasperation. I reluctantly confess that you must have inherited this genetic volatility from me. Sorry! Yet with the use of ‘genetic’ I am not taking full responsibility for it. Someone else is to blame. On the other hand while I have no evidence to support my notion, I believe that irritation and determination are coupled. You were resolved to understand or overcome or master anything that challenged you enough.

You were an inquisitive child and mechanically minded child. You dismantled and reassembled objects to examine their parts. One of your standout accomplishments was your design and construction of a fiberglass model radio controlled racing boat. Then one glorious morning at the cottage the morning stillness was cut by the sound of the high-pitched success of that small boat cutting around the lake.

I will forever remember playing on the church softball team together with my teenage son for several seasons. I will never forget white water rafting with you and climbing Black Tusk. I admired your interest in various sports through the years, from wind surfing and wake boarding to snow boarding and sports fishing. I have appreciated your eagerness to try new things, fly tying, silk screening, and home renovation. I am deeply thankful for your mastery of so many handyman skills.

While you had some uncomfortable grade school experiences as a boy, it pleases me that you are a respected and effective educator today. Your students are fortunate to spend a year in your classroom learning from you about lessons and life.

What I love best about you Jeff is your love for your wife Gina and your love for your two children and your love for your Mom and me. I enjoy watching your emotion as your children amaze you and make you happy. I am grateful that your childhood faith grew into maturity in your adult years and you treat your relationship with God as integral to who you are and want to be.

Happy Birthday Jeff, my dearly loved son.

200th Anniversary of FELIX MENDELSSOHN'S BIRTH

A NEW LEARNING
I like to celebrate people who have made an extraordinary contribution.

This is the birthday of Felix Mendelssohn. This is the 200th Anniversary of his birth. He was born Jakob Ludwig Felix Mendelssohn on February 3, 1809 to a notable and wealthy Jewish family that converted to Protestantism. He was the grandson of the philosopher Moses Mendelssohn and son of Abraham who upon conversion to Christianity changed his surname to Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, which was seldom used. He died November 4, 1847.
You know Felix Mendelssohn as the German composer, pianist and conductor of the early Romantic period. He is among the most popular composers of that period although he wrote music that included both the styles of romanticism and classicalism. His works include concerti, oratorios, symphonies, piano and chamber music. He began to compose at age 11; at 16 he wrote his first masterpiece, the String Octet in E Flat Major (1825), followed by the Overture to A Midsummer Night's Dream (1826) at age seventeen. He wrote the first of a series of elegant piano works, Songs Without Words, in 1830. His Reformation (1832) and Italian (1833) symphonies date from this period. In his last decade he produced great works such as the Scottish Symphony (1842), the violin concerto* (1844), and the oratorio Elijah (1846).

Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel was his beloved sister (1805–47), and she was considered his equal in musical talent but she was discouraged from composing until her marriage to the painter Wilhelm Hensel (1794–1861); she eventually wrote more than 500 works. Her death was a severe shock to Mendelssohn. Years of overwork simultaneously caught up with him, and he died six months after her.

*Listen and watch renowned violinist Itzhak Perlman at the age of 13 years playing Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto - 2 min clip
Then look and listen to Perlman as an adult playing this same piece. - 5 min 45 sec

What a treasure people like this are. This is a happy day.

SHE'S 40

A NEW LEARNING
It’s my daughter’s birthday. Today my little girl is forty years old.

We lived in Mississauga forty years ago. While I was completing my pastoral training Christine was great with child. We had nothing. We lived in two rooms of Mrs. Stoll’s rambling large home as payment for a few hours of my service in a church. Graciously, Mrs. Stoll permitted Christine to use her piano and sitting room to teach a few music students. For those months our as yet unborn daughter heard Christine’s music.

If our baby was a girl, her name would be Carinne May. Her middle name a tribute to her maternal Grandma. Then she came. A long difficult coming. Maternity units forty years ago were no place for dads it was believed. I was impounded in the waiting room and ventured only briefly into Christine’s agony. My first glimpse of Cari came as our doctor brought her to me, not to hold, merely to see. She was simply, unforgettable, blue eyes bright, soft white hair. Primal medical sensibilities placed my tightly wrapped girl in a generic container behind a windowed room full of other baby containers. My father stood at the glass for a long time looking at his first grandchild.

During her early years music was a constant in our home. As no surprise, Cari showed interest in the piano. As she grew, her dedication and enjoyment at making music were promises of things to come. We moved to Smiths Falls, to Peterborough and to Scarborough and in each location Cari’s music filled our home. And then she was gone to university in Winnipeg and I was crushed. I wasn’t prepared to be Cari-free. During her studies in Winnipeg and her brother’s studies in BC, Christine and I relocated from Toronto to Cloverdale BC.

Upon graduation Cari joined us in Cloverdale, worked part-time while she earned a Master of Piano Performance degree at Western Washington University. Then this gorgeous gal lived with her mom and dad, year after year, through her twenties until Christine and I were asking ourselves, “What’s wrong with this scene?” And along came Tim. Then along came Tim.

Cari was twenty-nine when she held my arm to walk down the aisle on her wedding day. We walked to a highly emotional song from the movie ‘The Mission.’

And here she is today, a wife and a mother of three children, aged four, six, and eight. My girl. 40. And don’t I feel old, and HAPPY! She has blessed my life. I love her.

She is a published scrapbooking artist and member of the design team for Canadian Scrapbooker. You can see her work on her blog, Me and My Thoughts and various websites:
Scrapvillage
Creative Express
Class Dates and Projects
Creative Imaginations
Pencil Lines

Accolade for a 'Great' Grandma

A NEW LEARNING
Christine is a creative woman, my wife. She doesn’t give herself enough credit. And she loves deeply, which when combined with imagination results in joyous surprises for others. At our grandson Jayden’s fourth birthday a couple of weeks ago after the predictable gifts with wheels from small car to bicycle, Christine gave him a package of coupons. He can’t read so his big sister read them each in turn.

“This coupon entitles JJ to a walk at the beach and an ice cream cone at Andy’s”
“This coupon entitles JJ to an afternoon at Grandpa and Grandma’s for a movie and popcorn.”
“This coupon entitles JJ to an overnight at Grandpa and Grandma’s.”
“This coupon entitles JJ to an afternoon with Grandma to do some baking.”

To our surprise he understood each one and cheered lustily as he anticipated what they meant. He has two siblings whom he loves but these coupons meant specialized time for him alone with Grandma and Grandpa doing things that thrill him.

So here is the total invoice for this gift.
One loonie for an ice cream cone and a toonie for the fuel to get to White Rock.
A toonie for microwave popcorn.
A loonie for fuel to pick JJ up and bring him to our home.
A toonie for the ingredients for a Ginger Bread house which JJ and Christine are planning to bake and to decorate on Tuesday afternoon.
Memories – priceless.

I love JJ’s Grandma.