The Renovator's Prayer
Oh grant me sweet salvation
from the dirt and grime -
this endless renovation
has taken so much time!
One chore barely completed
before one more begins -
I sometimes feel defeated,
and my poor head - it spins.
My house is always cluttered
with tools and with debris;
and at last bill I stuttered -
the costs rise steadily!
The constant noise assails me
it is hard to ignore -
and peace and quiet fail me
like shine upon my floor!
The time line - it gets pushed back -
things never move too fast;
help our projects stay on track,
and may our money last!
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, March 15, 2017
We've been living in the new/old house for almost eight months now, and we still love it - even though the projects seem never ending. We've come so far - yet, we still have so far to go...
We no longer feel like we're camping. Luckily, furnace and air conditioning repairs/replacement was up first on our list. We have four furnaces and four air conditioning units in this house, and three of each needed replacing. Our HVAC guy got right on it - he practically took up residence with us for about six weeks, and became like a member of the family. He knows that now he's welcome to stop by anytime to get caught up on the progress of the house and have a visit. Unfortunately, he had to subcontract the servicing (and replacement) of the AC units, and sadly that was a long, drawn out process. The good news is that it's done, and this summer we'll live in air conditioned comfort - knock wood!
Our kitchen is now 95% complete! Oh - how it thrills me to type those words! After all, I spent three months hunched over a laundry tub in the middle of my kitchen before I got a proper kitchen sink. When the new bank of kitchen cupboards got put in, I knew that sink - and even dishwasher, which had sat there mocking me for two months - would soon be functional. When both were installed, and the plumber had come by to finish the job, I had a true Hallelujah moment! It was akin to the jubilation I'd experienced about a month earlier when my washer and dryer were hooked up and trips to the laundromat in the next town became a thing of the past.
I have to say that a few months of roughing it made me grateful for some pretty mundane conveniences - like functioning toilets. When all three of our toilets were put into use I became a much happier camper. Now I yearn for the day when we have a nice shower in an actual bathroom, as opposed to a grungy corner shower in a vast "crazy room" that once housed a call center. That dream is closer to becoming a reality. As I type this post there are guys upstairs applying drywall to what will eventually (soon - I hope!) become a three piece bathroom! There's just something so disconcerting about having to shower in a room that has no door. Securing a curtain with a butter knife jammed into the door frame and hollering "I'm taking a shower!" (so that your grown son doesn't stumble in on you half asleep) is getting old. I frequently remind my husband that I'm a really good sport - a lot of women wouldn't have been able to handle the rustic bathing conditions in this house nearly as long as I have.
In December, with most of the pluming, heating and electrical issues taken care of - (invisible money suckers that must be taken care of but don't make your house actually look any better) - we were finally able to turn our attention to making cosmetic changes. It took forever to strip off the wallpaper on the two walls in the kitchen that had been damaged by the previous occupants of the house, and to fix the holes and prepare them for paint. It was a half finished eyesore for months, but in February we finally got paint on those walls, and it looks great! Likewise, we painted the back entrance to the house and the improvement is amazing!
One day, about six weeks back, I went upstairs and was thrilled to realize that the front bedroom and the "Men's room" (still complete with urinal) were actually covered in wall paper that could be dry-stripped. I pulled it all down in the space of a couple of hours. Now that bathroom is ready for paint, but some bursitis-type ailment in my shoulder has kept me from scrubbing down the bedroom walls yet. (The trials of getting old...but enough of the moaning.) Likewise, on a quiet day in late January I decided to start ripping up carpet, and we realized that the narrow strip hardwood in the former office and front entrance could be salvaged. We had it refinished, and while we're a bit disappointed with the end result, it is a vast improvement over the disgusting old carpeting. Now the big design dilemma is what to replace the carpeted floors in the adjoining living and family rooms with. Whatever we choose will have look okay with the existing floor, and have a low enough profile that we won't have to shave any height off of our magnificent pocket doors. The jury is still out on that one.
Two weeks ago we had the kitchen floor repaired. What we initially thought would be a quick fix turned into a bigger project when our contractor discovered that the floor tile we'd purchased was about an eighth of an inch smaller than the existing tiles on the floor. We all put on thinking caps and came up with an elegant solution that makes a simple ceramic repair look like a lovely area rug in the middle of our kitchen floor. Needless to say, the additional time and tiles to get it looking so nice added a few dollars more to the budget than we'd bargained for. We're discovering what a common problem that can be be when you have so many projects to tackle in a house as big and old as this one.
Another issue we've experienced, as my opening poem alluded to, is keeping our timeline on track. We're not skilled enough to make all of the repairs and improvements ourselves, and tradesmen get booked up quickly. From the electrician and plumber we can get a full day - maybe two if we're really lucky - here and there. And sometimes our booked slot gets postponed when more dire situations arise. (Milking barn disasters are a real issue here in the wilds of Ontario's mid-west.) And then, occasionally, you might hire a guy who you suspect only books work days when he's low on beer money or runs into an unexpected expense himself. (Luckily we haven't experienced this very often.)
So that's where we stand. Our kitchen is almost completely where we want it to be, we have functioning laundry and toilets and a new bathroom going in. Our floors are being de-carpeted (yessss!) and walls are beginning to be stripped and painted! It's good to see progress and be at the stage where we're making decor decisions and not just improving the unseen "guts" of the new/old house!
Headaches will continue as we put up with noise, confusion, tool littered rooms and workmen arriving (who let themselves in with the spare key you gave them) while you're still lying in bed scantily clad (with your door open). The endless cleaning after said workmen go home will continue for a while, but it's pain with a purpose.
Our growing pains will be ongoing and our wallets will continue to thin. Progress doesn't come cheaply, and isn't always neat and timely - but it's worth it!
The grand Victorian lady is still saying thank you, to which I can only respond, "You're welcome, house. Thank you for giving us a renewed sense of purpose. You are going to be fabulous!"
Thursday, 16 March 2017
Saturday, 4 March 2017
A Rant from a Modern Day "Luddite" - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Luddite Rant
No cell phone do I carry round -
no Bluetooth in my ear
obliges me to take your call -
no ringing do I hear!
I don't like the computer much,
I google now and then;
but don't trust Wikipedia
to tell me what or when.
I didn't own a microwave
'til I was thirty-eight -
my television's not flat screen
but it still works just great!
I like my pencils and my ink,
and write notes in a book.
I sometimes wield a wooden spoon
when it is time to cook.
I have been known to fill the sink
and wash my plates by hand.
Obsessions with technology
I cannot understand.
I check my email twice a day -
who needs to check it more?
And when I type upon a screen
it seems a nasty chore.
The new remote for our TV
completely drives me mad,
and to be honest, ipads still
seem like a passing fad.
I think "tweeting" is for the birds,
I've never sent a text -
I spend days in astonishment -
what will they think of next?!
by Sharon Flood Kasenberg, February 2011
I have a love/hate relationship with technology. I love that Facebook allows me to connect with friends and family far away, and that it has given me a forum for sharing my poetry. I never shop online, but I do like to be able to "pre-shop" here. Looking over stock and sales online saves me both time and money when I shop in "real time". I love being able to "chat" online with my brother and sister out west while I read my news feed, and miss my son less because I know he and his father frequently text. When Todd sends Dan a photo of my latest batch of cinnamon rolls, or of another completed home improvement project, I feel secure in the knowledge that he remains connected to our current lives no matter how far away he is.
On the other hand, I hate how technology has so much of society enchained. Most shudder at the thought of going unplugged for a few days - what would they do without their telephone, laptop or tablet? How would they possibly survive? I have to say that I just don't get their near hysterical reactions to the mere thought of taking a sabbatical from technology.
Daily I see and hear people panicking because they misplaced or broke their cell phone and will have to survive without it for a day or two. I see couples technologically uncoupling as they sit in restaurants together, but apart - each staring at their telephones. I see teens choosing texts over conversation. I find it all a little disconcerting.
I don't like telephones much. I didn't even like them back in the day when they were all neatly affixed to the wall. The darn things were always ringing when I was in the bathroom - or just getting to the most exciting part of the book! If you talked too long your ear got sore, and inevitably as the call stretched on and on you wanted to pee so badly that pain ensued. I had a cell phone for a year or so in 2012 when I spent a lot of time going back and forth between our home in Kitchener and our son's apartment in Toronto. At first I tried to remember to carry it with me when I was out and about, but I always felt stupid talking on the phone in public. I quickly got into the habit of arranging calls ahead of time (with the half dozen people I'd given my number to) so that I could turn it off or leave it at home.
Some people wonder how I get by without a phone, but I love peace and quiet, and I enjoy taking long walks without ever having to worry about being pestered by someone on the phone. If I traveled a lot I'd get one, but for now I simply don't see the need. Some have asked what I'd do in an emergency without a cell phone, but when I'm alone I tend to stay pretty close to civilization, and I really do have enough faith in humanity to believe that if I found myself in dire straits I'd be able to get someone nearby to make a call for me.
The computer I use at home is hardwired into the wall - and I still waste too much time on it! I wouldn't want to have the internet with me everywhere I go. I'm happier paying attention to the people I'm with, the scenery, the weather, and the obstacles in my path. I think that people who spend their days staring at little screens miss way too much of that great big picture called life. Maybe I'm a bit of a Luddite at heart...
Luddites emerged about two hundred years ago when the Industrial Revolution was getting into full swing. Cotton and woolen mills in England began to use powered looms and machinery that made knitters and weavers nervous. The Napoleonic War had already left the working class tightening their belts, and many of theses mill workers feared they'd lose their jobs to machines. In 1811, British troops were called in to break up a protest of some mill workers who wanted better wages. The very next night a mill was broken into and the machinery was destroyed.
Mill after mill was broken into over the next several years - a few were set on fire, but for the most part these "Luddites" settled for smashing the machines that kept them overworked and underpaid. The attacks were supposedly masterminded by one Ned Ludd, who was rumoured to have been the instigator of one of the first mill attacks in the Nottingham area in 1811. "Ned" developed quite a reputation among mill workers, who adopted him as the leader of their movement. Some of his followers even protested in the streets dressed as women, calling themselves "General Ludd's wives"! However, "General" Ned Ludd didn't actually exist, and the real Ludd (or perhaps Ludham) was a young knitting apprentice who took a hammer to his knitting machine after being criticized by a mill boss for "knitting too loosely". As the initial protests took place in the Nottingham area, this fictionalized Ned Ludd was given a Robin Hood type persona - a man who gave to the poor by defending their right to jobs and fair wages.
Thus you can see that the Luddites didn't really hate technology - they just felt threatened by it. They saw their fight against industrialization as a quality of life issue, and worried that the value of human craftsmanship would dwindle as mechanization became ever more popular. If they had to work in mills to make money, they wanted to make enough of it to keep their families fed, housed and clothed.
I don't hate technology either. I've already mentioned the ways that computers have enriched my life, and as much as I don't like yakking on the phone, I'm glad they exist. I just think that we've somehow undervalued real human connections in favour of high tech gadgets and online personas. I'm not looking to smash up anyone's personal devices, but I do advocate turning them off and/or leaving them behind from time to time. It just seems that we've become so technology dependent that we're losing touch with our social skills. We're forgetting about the importance of manners. We're forgetting to be alert and aware of our surroundings. People text as they walk and as they drive, injuring themselves and others because they can't put down their phones for a few minutes.
Most of us crave electronic stimuli like alcoholics crave their next drink. Studies have shown that electronics stimulate the same parts of the brain, especially in young children, that crack does. Parents use electronic devices as cheap babysitters. Children don't play outside much anymore because they are all electronically addicted by the time they're old enough to play outside alone. People socialize face to face a lot less often than they used to, and having people stop by just to say hello is almost unheard of today. I'm convinced that one of the primary reasons for this is that so many of us feel that we get our "social fix" online. (Even though social media offers superficial interactions at best.) I wish social calls were the norm again - our lives are missing something that made my parents' generation more socially stable and secure - an open door mentality that taught them how to be hospitable hosts and considerate guests.
Email created an environment where everyone is addicted to immediacy, and texting has only compounded the problem. In my cellphone days, one friend was totally confounded by the fact that I never answered her texts - and she was a little shocked when I explained that I just never bothered getting texting on my plan.
When personal computers arrived on the scene they were hailed as the answer to our overstressed lives, pitched as time savers that would usher in shorter work weeks, and more time for friends, families, travel and hobbies. In reality the exact opposite has happened.
I think it's time for us to rail against the electronic machines that have diminished our quality of life! It's time to establish unplugged, no call zones in our lives - time to disconnect so that we can reconnect - with each other, and with the whole wide wonderful world that surrounds us.
Some of my happiest memories are of time in my youth spent at the family cabin on Lake Superior - days of playing in the water, exploring the shoreline and the back roads, and building forts in the woods behind us. There are no telephones in those memories, no televisions or screens of any kind. Heck, there aren't even any electric light switches, ovens, refrigerators or indoor toilets in those memories! (See my post called "Superior" if you'd like to hear more about my summers "at camp"). We spent evenings playing board games by lamplight.
The world needs more board games and less social media. It needs more laughter and human interaction. It needs more walking in the woods and less wandering into oncoming traffic while texting!
Technology has its place, but I think we'd be better off if we all became a little more "Luddite" - more aware of the societal ills that our increasing dependence on technology exacerbates. I'm ready to fight for a better quality of life by stepping away from technology more often, and more than willing to increase face time with friends and family.
That is, if any of them are willing to put down their own devices long enough to engage with me.
No cell phone do I carry round -
no Bluetooth in my ear
obliges me to take your call -
no ringing do I hear!
I don't like the computer much,
I google now and then;
but don't trust Wikipedia
to tell me what or when.
I didn't own a microwave
'til I was thirty-eight -
my television's not flat screen
but it still works just great!
I like my pencils and my ink,
and write notes in a book.
I sometimes wield a wooden spoon
when it is time to cook.
I have been known to fill the sink
and wash my plates by hand.
Obsessions with technology
I cannot understand.
I check my email twice a day -
who needs to check it more?
And when I type upon a screen
it seems a nasty chore.
The new remote for our TV
completely drives me mad,
and to be honest, ipads still
seem like a passing fad.
I think "tweeting" is for the birds,
I've never sent a text -
I spend days in astonishment -
what will they think of next?!
by Sharon Flood Kasenberg, February 2011
I have a love/hate relationship with technology. I love that Facebook allows me to connect with friends and family far away, and that it has given me a forum for sharing my poetry. I never shop online, but I do like to be able to "pre-shop" here. Looking over stock and sales online saves me both time and money when I shop in "real time". I love being able to "chat" online with my brother and sister out west while I read my news feed, and miss my son less because I know he and his father frequently text. When Todd sends Dan a photo of my latest batch of cinnamon rolls, or of another completed home improvement project, I feel secure in the knowledge that he remains connected to our current lives no matter how far away he is.
On the other hand, I hate how technology has so much of society enchained. Most shudder at the thought of going unplugged for a few days - what would they do without their telephone, laptop or tablet? How would they possibly survive? I have to say that I just don't get their near hysterical reactions to the mere thought of taking a sabbatical from technology.
Daily I see and hear people panicking because they misplaced or broke their cell phone and will have to survive without it for a day or two. I see couples technologically uncoupling as they sit in restaurants together, but apart - each staring at their telephones. I see teens choosing texts over conversation. I find it all a little disconcerting.
I don't like telephones much. I didn't even like them back in the day when they were all neatly affixed to the wall. The darn things were always ringing when I was in the bathroom - or just getting to the most exciting part of the book! If you talked too long your ear got sore, and inevitably as the call stretched on and on you wanted to pee so badly that pain ensued. I had a cell phone for a year or so in 2012 when I spent a lot of time going back and forth between our home in Kitchener and our son's apartment in Toronto. At first I tried to remember to carry it with me when I was out and about, but I always felt stupid talking on the phone in public. I quickly got into the habit of arranging calls ahead of time (with the half dozen people I'd given my number to) so that I could turn it off or leave it at home.
Some people wonder how I get by without a phone, but I love peace and quiet, and I enjoy taking long walks without ever having to worry about being pestered by someone on the phone. If I traveled a lot I'd get one, but for now I simply don't see the need. Some have asked what I'd do in an emergency without a cell phone, but when I'm alone I tend to stay pretty close to civilization, and I really do have enough faith in humanity to believe that if I found myself in dire straits I'd be able to get someone nearby to make a call for me.
The computer I use at home is hardwired into the wall - and I still waste too much time on it! I wouldn't want to have the internet with me everywhere I go. I'm happier paying attention to the people I'm with, the scenery, the weather, and the obstacles in my path. I think that people who spend their days staring at little screens miss way too much of that great big picture called life. Maybe I'm a bit of a Luddite at heart...
Luddites emerged about two hundred years ago when the Industrial Revolution was getting into full swing. Cotton and woolen mills in England began to use powered looms and machinery that made knitters and weavers nervous. The Napoleonic War had already left the working class tightening their belts, and many of theses mill workers feared they'd lose their jobs to machines. In 1811, British troops were called in to break up a protest of some mill workers who wanted better wages. The very next night a mill was broken into and the machinery was destroyed.
Mill after mill was broken into over the next several years - a few were set on fire, but for the most part these "Luddites" settled for smashing the machines that kept them overworked and underpaid. The attacks were supposedly masterminded by one Ned Ludd, who was rumoured to have been the instigator of one of the first mill attacks in the Nottingham area in 1811. "Ned" developed quite a reputation among mill workers, who adopted him as the leader of their movement. Some of his followers even protested in the streets dressed as women, calling themselves "General Ludd's wives"! However, "General" Ned Ludd didn't actually exist, and the real Ludd (or perhaps Ludham) was a young knitting apprentice who took a hammer to his knitting machine after being criticized by a mill boss for "knitting too loosely". As the initial protests took place in the Nottingham area, this fictionalized Ned Ludd was given a Robin Hood type persona - a man who gave to the poor by defending their right to jobs and fair wages.
Thus you can see that the Luddites didn't really hate technology - they just felt threatened by it. They saw their fight against industrialization as a quality of life issue, and worried that the value of human craftsmanship would dwindle as mechanization became ever more popular. If they had to work in mills to make money, they wanted to make enough of it to keep their families fed, housed and clothed.
I don't hate technology either. I've already mentioned the ways that computers have enriched my life, and as much as I don't like yakking on the phone, I'm glad they exist. I just think that we've somehow undervalued real human connections in favour of high tech gadgets and online personas. I'm not looking to smash up anyone's personal devices, but I do advocate turning them off and/or leaving them behind from time to time. It just seems that we've become so technology dependent that we're losing touch with our social skills. We're forgetting about the importance of manners. We're forgetting to be alert and aware of our surroundings. People text as they walk and as they drive, injuring themselves and others because they can't put down their phones for a few minutes.
Most of us crave electronic stimuli like alcoholics crave their next drink. Studies have shown that electronics stimulate the same parts of the brain, especially in young children, that crack does. Parents use electronic devices as cheap babysitters. Children don't play outside much anymore because they are all electronically addicted by the time they're old enough to play outside alone. People socialize face to face a lot less often than they used to, and having people stop by just to say hello is almost unheard of today. I'm convinced that one of the primary reasons for this is that so many of us feel that we get our "social fix" online. (Even though social media offers superficial interactions at best.) I wish social calls were the norm again - our lives are missing something that made my parents' generation more socially stable and secure - an open door mentality that taught them how to be hospitable hosts and considerate guests.
Email created an environment where everyone is addicted to immediacy, and texting has only compounded the problem. In my cellphone days, one friend was totally confounded by the fact that I never answered her texts - and she was a little shocked when I explained that I just never bothered getting texting on my plan.
When personal computers arrived on the scene they were hailed as the answer to our overstressed lives, pitched as time savers that would usher in shorter work weeks, and more time for friends, families, travel and hobbies. In reality the exact opposite has happened.
I think it's time for us to rail against the electronic machines that have diminished our quality of life! It's time to establish unplugged, no call zones in our lives - time to disconnect so that we can reconnect - with each other, and with the whole wide wonderful world that surrounds us.
Some of my happiest memories are of time in my youth spent at the family cabin on Lake Superior - days of playing in the water, exploring the shoreline and the back roads, and building forts in the woods behind us. There are no telephones in those memories, no televisions or screens of any kind. Heck, there aren't even any electric light switches, ovens, refrigerators or indoor toilets in those memories! (See my post called "Superior" if you'd like to hear more about my summers "at camp"). We spent evenings playing board games by lamplight.
The world needs more board games and less social media. It needs more laughter and human interaction. It needs more walking in the woods and less wandering into oncoming traffic while texting!
Technology has its place, but I think we'd be better off if we all became a little more "Luddite" - more aware of the societal ills that our increasing dependence on technology exacerbates. I'm ready to fight for a better quality of life by stepping away from technology more often, and more than willing to increase face time with friends and family.
That is, if any of them are willing to put down their own devices long enough to engage with me.
Monday, 13 February 2017
Love is NOT a Diamond! By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Love is NOT a diamond -
a bauble that is bought.
It has many facets,
but flashy it is not.
Love is not bedazzled
like jewelry you wear;
not measured in Karats
or debt you need to bear.
Don't believe commercials -
a diamond isn't love.
If you want a symbol,
buy your mate a glove!
One glove can be quite useful -
if the truth be told -
to warm up the other,
the hand that you don't hold.
It will mold to fingers
allowing them to flex;
won't bind them like mittens
and make movement complex.
And when nicely fitted
it's comfy and it's warm -
keeps hand warm and cozy
through every nasty storm.
Why should hands be shackled
by gems that once were coal;
stones mined by slave labour
that sucks a poor man's soul?
Rocks polished to brilliance,
then marketed as "love"?
Ha - it sounds so silly!
I'd rather get a glove!
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Feb 11th, 2017
"Ha!", you're saying, "I'm onto this Rhyming Muse! She's obviously a very unromantic killjoy who complains about flowers one Valentine's Day and diamonds the next! I'll bet she attacks chocolate next year!"
So let me put your mind at ease. I don't hate Valentine's Day and it's safe to say I'll never complain about chocolate - which is on my top ten list of the best gifts to give for any occasion : )
But I will admit that you're half right. I'm not a huge fan of this particular holiday. It does seem to be mostly a big marketing ploy by florists and jewelers to sell their wares. And all the more power to them, but I'll just never be sold on the idea that flowers or diamonds equal love.
When we got married we were poor. My engagement ring was actually a birthstone ring (semi-precious stones at that!) that was purchased on sale. The cheque written for my very modest gold band bounced. No big flashy ring ever appeared to take the place of that engagement ring, and I'm okay with that. We've been happy - and are happier still because we've never incurred massive debt by spending a ton of money we didn't have on big glistening rocks that are supposed to be proof of my husband's undying love. Did you know jewelers have worked out a formula that estimates what percentage of your income you should spend on an engagement ring? Sorry, but that sounds beyond crass to me.
Maybe I am more pragmatic than romantic, but I just can't help but think that extravagant gifts given on holidays can't accurately demonstrate how much a person loves you. I like the symbol of a ring - the circular shape that signifies eternity, but who says the ring needs to be expensive to mean something? Any gift can mean something - even a glove! Heck - buy a whole pair and you'll have two occasions covered! Now and later symbolism for a pittance!
Sometimes people get caught up in symbols - especially status symbols, like well - ostentatious jewelry. They might attach meaning where there is none - telling themselves they're loved because a big bouquet of flowers showed up on their desk on February 14th or a lovely turquoise box was presented just before dessert. (I think those boxes are pretty. Love that shade of turquoise. - but I digress...) In my experience a lot of the men who make big showy gestures a few times a year don't do much to demonstrate their devotion the rest of the time.
Here's the part where I brag. My husband doesn't spend a fortune on me, but he's generally got a smile on his face when he walks through the door. He speaks so highly of me that I'm always a little worried that his friends and work colleagues will be disappointed when they actually meet me. He gets me - laughs at my lame jokes most of the time and expresses appreciation for the routine things I do. He listens to me, talks to me and actually likes me after twenty eight years of marriage.
So these verses are for him:
And now to you, husband -
so long I shopped for love.
Thankfully I found you.
You fit me like a glove.
You are my rock, my diamond -
my flash of brilliant blue,
and your love is proven
by everything you do.
Happy Valentine's Day, everyone - even if you do have to settle for diamonds or flowers : )
Friday, 10 February 2017
Better Questions - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg
"The Question"
Don't ask me what I do -
especially for pay.
I'm more than what I do
on any given day.
Try asking what I love.
(To most this matters more.)
Few are well defined by
the work they get paid for.
So ask what makes me tick,
what thrills me to the core;
what tugs upon my heart -
and you will learn much more.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Feb. 10, 2017
It happened again last night - I was asked the question that I've always dreaded.
"What do you do for a living?"
I hate answering that I'm a housewife, or a home-maker - or even borrowing from Rosanne Barr and saying I'm a Domestic Goddess. I don't like responding that I'm unemployed. Experience has taught me that those answers get no respect. Eyes glaze over and the asker can't get wait to move on to someone with a better answer to their inquiry. So I muttered something about doing odd jobs for my husband who owns a business, figuring that somehow that might redeem me at least a little.
I hate that question.
I wish I had just told the asker that - said it right out loud - just once for all of the hundreds (maybe thousands?) of times I've wanted to say it.
"I hate that question!"
(I wonder what response that would have gotten?)
It's not that I'm ashamed of the fact that I don't work for pay at the moment, or that I felt inferior in the days when I stayed home to raise my sons. I felt completely justified in my choice to be a stay at home mom. It was a pragmatic decision - somebody had to look after our sons, and since I loved them, and had never felt a call towards any particular career, it might as well be me. Most of the time I liked being home with my kids, even though it made me a pariah at work functions with my husband, where "the question" would inevitably be asked...
There I'd be, all dressed up and looking forward to interaction with adults. Hoping that maybe this time somebody would just ask about me - or about my kids - or frankly anything but my profession. Why was it so hard for these people to come up with better questions? Sheesh! I read books, I went to movies and watched the news! I even had an IQ sufficient to allow me to be conversant on a broad range of topics! But...nope. This was just another work function where people didn't know how to be people and fixated on jobs. So "the question" got asked, and I was quickly summed up as another boring housewife. I could almost hear them tsking as they walked away, and asking themselves why Todd would settle for such a boring wife.
But it goes back farther than that.
It goes back to the days when I worked as a fast food server, a sales clerk and a house cleaner. People who asked were always disappointed with how I was supporting myself - even when I was young enough to not have credentials to do anything more. The house cleaning years were worst, even though it was the job I enjoyed most. A few people pointed out that it was demeaning to scrub other peoples' floors and toilets, and that I should try and find a "better" job. This - in spite of the fact that cleaning paid twice as much as any other job I was qualified to do! Furthermore, I liked helping people who were too busy or infirm to clean for themselves. My clients were grateful for the service I provided, and that made the hard work satisfying. But oh - the looks of shock I endured! The looks of disappointment - and the looks of dismissal.
Maybe it even goes back farther than that.
My father was a brilliant man who finished grade twelve when he was about fifteen. He'd attended a one room schoolhouse, and his teachers saw that he was bright and let him work at his own pace. He could work out complicated math equations in his head! Furthermore, there were occasions where he'd challenge people with calculators to add six and seven digit numbers faster than he could without - and he'd win!
When people asked me what my father did I'd have to say that he worked at Algoma Steel - even though I knew that wasn't what he was. I knew it wasn't who he was, and that he had the intellect to hold a more prestigious position in life. (If you'd like to read more about my father, I can direct you to another post called Tapestries.) I knew, even as a child that very few people really want to work in factories, dig ditches or wait tables - but, as my father's life taught me, a lot of people have to cede their dreams and do what they have to do to keep bills paid and food on the table. I understood that these people didn't deserve to be seen as less intelligent, less interesting or less motivated than those who had exciting and lucrative careers.
As I grew up I learned to appreciate how many people work at things that seem boring, or are dirty, laborious, even dangerous - day in and day out. I learned that stereotypes are exaggerated - Preachers can be less than stuffy, undertakers can laugh, and librarians aren't all uptight neat freaks. I also came to understand how many people (like my father) don't get to work at the kind of job they dreamed of having. In fact, I've met very few people who spend their lives doing work they love, and those who do seem to make a lot of sacrifices along the way.
So is asking "the question" really the best way to figure out who someone is?
Next time you find yourself in a group of people, hold off on asking it for a while. Remember that a job doesn't really define a person. Ask them about their hobbies, passions, hopes and dreams first. Ask them about people they love and admire, places they've traveled, and how they'd spend their days if they didn't have to worry about paying bills. Ask them what matters most to them, and how they'd like to change the world.
I think you'll find that better questions enable better - more interesting and revealing - conversation.
Don't ask me what I do -
especially for pay.
I'm more than what I do
on any given day.
Try asking what I love.
(To most this matters more.)
Few are well defined by
the work they get paid for.
So ask what makes me tick,
what thrills me to the core;
what tugs upon my heart -
and you will learn much more.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Feb. 10, 2017
It happened again last night - I was asked the question that I've always dreaded.
"What do you do for a living?"
I hate answering that I'm a housewife, or a home-maker - or even borrowing from Rosanne Barr and saying I'm a Domestic Goddess. I don't like responding that I'm unemployed. Experience has taught me that those answers get no respect. Eyes glaze over and the asker can't get wait to move on to someone with a better answer to their inquiry. So I muttered something about doing odd jobs for my husband who owns a business, figuring that somehow that might redeem me at least a little.
I hate that question.
I wish I had just told the asker that - said it right out loud - just once for all of the hundreds (maybe thousands?) of times I've wanted to say it.
"I hate that question!"
(I wonder what response that would have gotten?)
It's not that I'm ashamed of the fact that I don't work for pay at the moment, or that I felt inferior in the days when I stayed home to raise my sons. I felt completely justified in my choice to be a stay at home mom. It was a pragmatic decision - somebody had to look after our sons, and since I loved them, and had never felt a call towards any particular career, it might as well be me. Most of the time I liked being home with my kids, even though it made me a pariah at work functions with my husband, where "the question" would inevitably be asked...
There I'd be, all dressed up and looking forward to interaction with adults. Hoping that maybe this time somebody would just ask about me - or about my kids - or frankly anything but my profession. Why was it so hard for these people to come up with better questions? Sheesh! I read books, I went to movies and watched the news! I even had an IQ sufficient to allow me to be conversant on a broad range of topics! But...nope. This was just another work function where people didn't know how to be people and fixated on jobs. So "the question" got asked, and I was quickly summed up as another boring housewife. I could almost hear them tsking as they walked away, and asking themselves why Todd would settle for such a boring wife.
But it goes back farther than that.
It goes back to the days when I worked as a fast food server, a sales clerk and a house cleaner. People who asked were always disappointed with how I was supporting myself - even when I was young enough to not have credentials to do anything more. The house cleaning years were worst, even though it was the job I enjoyed most. A few people pointed out that it was demeaning to scrub other peoples' floors and toilets, and that I should try and find a "better" job. This - in spite of the fact that cleaning paid twice as much as any other job I was qualified to do! Furthermore, I liked helping people who were too busy or infirm to clean for themselves. My clients were grateful for the service I provided, and that made the hard work satisfying. But oh - the looks of shock I endured! The looks of disappointment - and the looks of dismissal.
Maybe it even goes back farther than that.
My father was a brilliant man who finished grade twelve when he was about fifteen. He'd attended a one room schoolhouse, and his teachers saw that he was bright and let him work at his own pace. He could work out complicated math equations in his head! Furthermore, there were occasions where he'd challenge people with calculators to add six and seven digit numbers faster than he could without - and he'd win!
When people asked me what my father did I'd have to say that he worked at Algoma Steel - even though I knew that wasn't what he was. I knew it wasn't who he was, and that he had the intellect to hold a more prestigious position in life. (If you'd like to read more about my father, I can direct you to another post called Tapestries.) I knew, even as a child that very few people really want to work in factories, dig ditches or wait tables - but, as my father's life taught me, a lot of people have to cede their dreams and do what they have to do to keep bills paid and food on the table. I understood that these people didn't deserve to be seen as less intelligent, less interesting or less motivated than those who had exciting and lucrative careers.
As I grew up I learned to appreciate how many people work at things that seem boring, or are dirty, laborious, even dangerous - day in and day out. I learned that stereotypes are exaggerated - Preachers can be less than stuffy, undertakers can laugh, and librarians aren't all uptight neat freaks. I also came to understand how many people (like my father) don't get to work at the kind of job they dreamed of having. In fact, I've met very few people who spend their lives doing work they love, and those who do seem to make a lot of sacrifices along the way.
So is asking "the question" really the best way to figure out who someone is?
Next time you find yourself in a group of people, hold off on asking it for a while. Remember that a job doesn't really define a person. Ask them about their hobbies, passions, hopes and dreams first. Ask them about people they love and admire, places they've traveled, and how they'd spend their days if they didn't have to worry about paying bills. Ask them what matters most to them, and how they'd like to change the world.
I think you'll find that better questions enable better - more interesting and revealing - conversation.
Wednesday, 25 January 2017
Freedom@Fifty-five By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
@fifty-five:
In youth a choir seemed to jeer and taunt,
"You'll never get the future that you want!"
Thus in the grip of fear I oft' was held,
and to its whims my mind was oft' compelled.
For far too long my brain would not believe
life offered more than my heart could conceive -
so limited my life in terms of scope
that I could not believe that faith was hope.
The world was just too horrid to behold -
and human weakness couldn't be controlled.
But as I aged I finally observed
some things that left me thoroughly unnerved -
for there is beauty when the heart can see
there's goodness in much of humanity,
and seeing this, plant seeds of faith anew
that prompt us to our old beliefs review.
And so at length I chose another path -
and rid myself of earlier self-wrath
by offering upon a blazing pyre
the effigies of those predictions dire
which kept me so encumbered by their chains
that I could never seize the offered reins.
Now heart has followed where my mind did lead,
and from past misconceptions I am freed!
At last I hear a very different choir
sing choruses to heart and mind inspire.
This truth is simple - and so elegant -
In my own life I can be celebrant!
I can plan both the journey and the route,
and no one ever really ought to doubt
that my own compass tells me where to go -
for I know best the soil where I will grow!
And here I'll build the future that I want
whatever voices choose to jeer or taunt.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Today I celebrate my fifty-fifth birthday, and I'm giving myself a gift. I'm freeing myself from a weight I've carried for over a year, lifting it off my shoulders and dropping it at your feet...
For a very long time my blog posts have talked about change, and I've alluded to the fact that I've made many changes in my life. Some of these changes have been obvious - like the fact that I moved. I'm living a whole different life now - embracing small town atmosphere and working toward the dream of breathing new life into our old Victorian house so that some day it can be a source of income as well as a happy home.
But there has been one source of change in my life that I was loathe to share publicly - afraid that some of you would see me differently, and maybe stop listening to me. Maybe you'd decide my posts weren't worth reading, or that we couldn't be friends anymore if I told you this. Furthermore, I've been afraid that in telling you this truth you'd see me as a sinner, a traitor, or a coward, because there are some who say that's what I am now. I hope you're not one of them. You see, no matter what changes I've made in my life, if I ever considered you a true friend that hasn't changed. And it won't change - even if you feel that we no longer have anything in common once I say this...
I no longer belong to any church. You read that right. (Whew - I said it!)
I was born and raised in a faith that was my whole world for most of my life. My church was my community, and my sense of purpose revolved around service in my church. My identity was enmeshed in membership in my church. I was proud to belong.
Until things changed. My husband stopped attending and I felt judged by many because he'd rejected the faith. And over the years a lot of the things I was raised to believe stopped resonating with me. Not because I sinned, because honest to goodness, I live the most squeaky clean life you can imagine. That hasn't changed one whit, and isn't likely to. What many of you may not have understood was that I've always had my own moral compass leading my life. The things I chose not to indulge in were things I simply never wanted. I made my own choices. The church was never my crutch, never my reason for saying no or yes. So believe me when I tell you that I still live as I always have.
How can my life still be rewarding without faith? I know that's a question some of you will ask, and I have an answer. My life is not without faith! I have my very own theology - perhaps I always did. I have faith in the goodness of humanity, and genuinely believe there are more kind and decent people in the world than there are mean, nasty people wanting to hurt me, or anyone else. I really see that goodness in people now that I'm less concerned about what they do or don't believe, and merely focus on their words and deeds. I have a lot more faith in myself too, now that I've embraced my ignorance and admitted that I don't have all the answers. There is a great sense of freedom in saying out loud - "I just don't know!" I feel more content with my life now that I focus on merely being a good person, rather than worrying about achieving any level of perfection in this life or any other. My only competition now is with myself as I strive to be better than I was the day before.
I've always tried not to lie or cheat or hurt others - and that's why it's been so hard to keep this to myself for as long as I have. I have no desire to hurt any of you who still believe the things I used to believe. I didn't make any grand announcement on Facebook because I was afraid that my decision to leave would somehow offend you. But by keeping this to myself I was hurting me. It bothered me to let you think I hadn't changed. It made me feel like I was being a traitor to myself. It made me feel guilty for following my conscience and doing what I felt was right. I hated feeling that many of you felt safe in the assumption that in spite of all the change I alluded to, that hadn't changed. So now I'm being honest - for my sake and yours.
I resigned in October of 2015.
I don't want to go into all of the reasons I resigned my membership, but it wasn't a decision I made lightly. I don't want to engage in debate, or influence anybody else to come to the same conclusions that I have. I can live with the fact that we see things differently. Please don't feel badly. Don't shed tears for me, or pray for me to have a change of heart and come back. My heart has already changed - in wonderful, meaningful ways. Every person I ever loved is still loved - and perhaps loved better. My heart seems to have more room in it for love since I stopped trying to force myself to believe things that just didn't seem right to me. I'm happy. I feel that my life has purpose and direction. My conscience is alive and well, and I trust it to keep me living as I should.
It hurts me that some of you won't feel the same toward me now that you know I've left the church. Just remember that this change came a while ago, and that many of you have been interacting with me since I ceased being a member - and you were none the wiser. That's because I'm still the same person I always was. We still have common life experiences and interests and ideas to draw upon, and we can still be friends. This doesn't have to be a big deal.
I still love you, and I'm sorry if this news shocks you or makes you feel sad. That wasn't my intention at all. It's just that I'm fifty-five... old enough to know my own heart, and finally brave enough to speak my own truth. I needed to be able to say this, and couldn't feel free of the weight I carried until I did. I hope you can understand that.
I have enough faith to believe that most of you will choose to love me anyway - the ball is in your court.
Thanks for listening and not judging.
Sharon
In youth a choir seemed to jeer and taunt,
"You'll never get the future that you want!"
Thus in the grip of fear I oft' was held,
and to its whims my mind was oft' compelled.
For far too long my brain would not believe
life offered more than my heart could conceive -
so limited my life in terms of scope
that I could not believe that faith was hope.
The world was just too horrid to behold -
and human weakness couldn't be controlled.
But as I aged I finally observed
some things that left me thoroughly unnerved -
for there is beauty when the heart can see
there's goodness in much of humanity,
and seeing this, plant seeds of faith anew
that prompt us to our old beliefs review.
And so at length I chose another path -
and rid myself of earlier self-wrath
by offering upon a blazing pyre
the effigies of those predictions dire
which kept me so encumbered by their chains
that I could never seize the offered reins.
Now heart has followed where my mind did lead,
and from past misconceptions I am freed!
At last I hear a very different choir
sing choruses to heart and mind inspire.
This truth is simple - and so elegant -
In my own life I can be celebrant!
I can plan both the journey and the route,
and no one ever really ought to doubt
that my own compass tells me where to go -
for I know best the soil where I will grow!
And here I'll build the future that I want
whatever voices choose to jeer or taunt.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Today I celebrate my fifty-fifth birthday, and I'm giving myself a gift. I'm freeing myself from a weight I've carried for over a year, lifting it off my shoulders and dropping it at your feet...
For a very long time my blog posts have talked about change, and I've alluded to the fact that I've made many changes in my life. Some of these changes have been obvious - like the fact that I moved. I'm living a whole different life now - embracing small town atmosphere and working toward the dream of breathing new life into our old Victorian house so that some day it can be a source of income as well as a happy home.
But there has been one source of change in my life that I was loathe to share publicly - afraid that some of you would see me differently, and maybe stop listening to me. Maybe you'd decide my posts weren't worth reading, or that we couldn't be friends anymore if I told you this. Furthermore, I've been afraid that in telling you this truth you'd see me as a sinner, a traitor, or a coward, because there are some who say that's what I am now. I hope you're not one of them. You see, no matter what changes I've made in my life, if I ever considered you a true friend that hasn't changed. And it won't change - even if you feel that we no longer have anything in common once I say this...
I no longer belong to any church. You read that right. (Whew - I said it!)
I was born and raised in a faith that was my whole world for most of my life. My church was my community, and my sense of purpose revolved around service in my church. My identity was enmeshed in membership in my church. I was proud to belong.
Until things changed. My husband stopped attending and I felt judged by many because he'd rejected the faith. And over the years a lot of the things I was raised to believe stopped resonating with me. Not because I sinned, because honest to goodness, I live the most squeaky clean life you can imagine. That hasn't changed one whit, and isn't likely to. What many of you may not have understood was that I've always had my own moral compass leading my life. The things I chose not to indulge in were things I simply never wanted. I made my own choices. The church was never my crutch, never my reason for saying no or yes. So believe me when I tell you that I still live as I always have.
How can my life still be rewarding without faith? I know that's a question some of you will ask, and I have an answer. My life is not without faith! I have my very own theology - perhaps I always did. I have faith in the goodness of humanity, and genuinely believe there are more kind and decent people in the world than there are mean, nasty people wanting to hurt me, or anyone else. I really see that goodness in people now that I'm less concerned about what they do or don't believe, and merely focus on their words and deeds. I have a lot more faith in myself too, now that I've embraced my ignorance and admitted that I don't have all the answers. There is a great sense of freedom in saying out loud - "I just don't know!" I feel more content with my life now that I focus on merely being a good person, rather than worrying about achieving any level of perfection in this life or any other. My only competition now is with myself as I strive to be better than I was the day before.
I've always tried not to lie or cheat or hurt others - and that's why it's been so hard to keep this to myself for as long as I have. I have no desire to hurt any of you who still believe the things I used to believe. I didn't make any grand announcement on Facebook because I was afraid that my decision to leave would somehow offend you. But by keeping this to myself I was hurting me. It bothered me to let you think I hadn't changed. It made me feel like I was being a traitor to myself. It made me feel guilty for following my conscience and doing what I felt was right. I hated feeling that many of you felt safe in the assumption that in spite of all the change I alluded to, that hadn't changed. So now I'm being honest - for my sake and yours.
I resigned in October of 2015.
I don't want to go into all of the reasons I resigned my membership, but it wasn't a decision I made lightly. I don't want to engage in debate, or influence anybody else to come to the same conclusions that I have. I can live with the fact that we see things differently. Please don't feel badly. Don't shed tears for me, or pray for me to have a change of heart and come back. My heart has already changed - in wonderful, meaningful ways. Every person I ever loved is still loved - and perhaps loved better. My heart seems to have more room in it for love since I stopped trying to force myself to believe things that just didn't seem right to me. I'm happy. I feel that my life has purpose and direction. My conscience is alive and well, and I trust it to keep me living as I should.
It hurts me that some of you won't feel the same toward me now that you know I've left the church. Just remember that this change came a while ago, and that many of you have been interacting with me since I ceased being a member - and you were none the wiser. That's because I'm still the same person I always was. We still have common life experiences and interests and ideas to draw upon, and we can still be friends. This doesn't have to be a big deal.
I still love you, and I'm sorry if this news shocks you or makes you feel sad. That wasn't my intention at all. It's just that I'm fifty-five... old enough to know my own heart, and finally brave enough to speak my own truth. I needed to be able to say this, and couldn't feel free of the weight I carried until I did. I hope you can understand that.
I have enough faith to believe that most of you will choose to love me anyway - the ball is in your court.
Thanks for listening and not judging.
Sharon
Saturday, 14 January 2017
Toastmasters Take on the Common Cold - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg
The Common Cold
Who would have thought the common cold
could ever yield comedic gold?
But for those who wish to orate
the subject matter proved just great,
and somehow from this common thread
a lot of funny things were said.
We laughed at symptoms - cough and sneeze,
and at outrageous remedies
well guarded in some secret vault -
and laughter - how it does exalt!
Somehow a subject quite mundane
moved all into some fresh terrain -
promoting potions meant to heal
the varied aches and pains we feel.
And once our fancies took to flight,
Toastmasters chuckled all the night!
Those words - like mucus, phlegm and spit
embellish speeches quite a bit -
but best of all? The word catarrh -
a true vocabulary star!
A wonderful way to explain
an inflammation of membrane
from stuff that plugs the human nose
which each into a tissue blows.
The beauty then, of Thursday nights
is finding such profound delights
among folk not afraid to reach
for fodder for another speech!
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Jan 13, 2017
My husband and I have been looking for ways to meet people and get involved in the area since we moved to North Perth. Atwood doesn't have a lot happening, except the Lion's Club, which my husband promptly joined. (It's an "Atwood thing", we were told. Men in this town pretty well all become Lions or sign on as volunteer firemen, and since Todd is asthmatic and doesn't do ladders well, the choice seemed clear.) That helped Todd integrate, but I knew that I also needed to develop some interests outside my door, but still close to home.
While scouring a local community bulletin, I discovered that Listowel, a more bustling town just five minutes away, was looking for Toastmasters to join their local group. I've had some experience with public speaking, and for many years considered the possibility of becoming a Toastmaster to hone my skills. I thought it seemed like a possible way to meet nice people too, so I decided to check out the Linguists of Listowel and see what they were all about. Since I don't drive, Todd brought me to the first meeting, but as we were driving home he said he'd let Toastmasters be "my thing" if I wanted to join on my own. (He didn't want to cramp my style.) However, since we'd both enjoyed the experience that evening I told him I'd be happy to try something new and different with him. (Words every man married for decades longs to hear, right?!)
At our first meeting we didn't know what to expect, but we were seated beside experienced members of the group who explained each portion of the evening to us. We met a room full of warm and welcoming people who were encouraging with each other, and a lot more interested in pointing out each others' strengths than offering harsh criticisms of perceived weaknesses. We both left there feeling good about learning how to speak in front of these people. When we returned the following week we were greeted like old friends.
We've been involved for about a month now, and Thursday night's meeting was so much fun! The topic for the evening was "The Common Cold", which (I have to confess) didn't seem very inspired to me. I was asked to read something for the Literary Corner - choose any written passage and read it to the group - four minutes maximum. I got nervy and chose to read one of my own blog posts. I wasn't sure how well my efforts would be received, but I forged ahead and felt my post was well received. My husband was asked to be Grammarian - the member who enriches vocabulary by introducing a new word to the group, then counts how many times people fit that word into their comments, and also keeps track of the use of filler words (like um and eh) that speakers use that evening so that we all learn to root out negative speech habits.
In keeping with the theme of the evening, he chose the word catarrh - "inflammation of mucus membranes and nasal passages". Needless to say, that word got well used by every person present. The subject of colds, cold symptoms and cold remedies was a source of much amusement as the night progressed. A toast was made to Canada, for opening the country's secret vault of the best 150 home remedies ever. Our chair for the evening regaled us with fun facts about obscure cold remedies, and our Table Topics Master invented a fun game where he passed around two envelopes - one contained slips of paper naming common cold symptoms, and the other contained slips denoting unusual cold remedies. Our task was to remove one slip from the first "symptom" envelope, name and wax somewhat poetic about our symptom, and then spend the balance of the allotted two minutes explaining how the randomly-pulled cold remedy from the next envelope helped cure us - or didn't.
It's hard to maintain composure while people are talking about using outlandish home remedies like horseradish, or onion necklaces, to cure their cold symptoms. And the hilarity continued when people described exactly how they'd use each remedy to obtain relief. Snort that elderberry juice up your nose - it'll clear up the pesky catarrh in your sinus cavity! Bite into a clove of garlic - munch down that sucker like it's an apple - by golly it'll clear up your cough - and as an added benefit, continued use will keep anyone from ever getting close enough to share a germ with you again! Does chicken soup sound like a boring cure? Not if it's made with the recipe we heard! We also learned that French Canadians substitute gin for whisky in their Hot Toddies, and that the word catarrh just never gets old.
I would never have dreamed that so much laughter could ensue from discussion of the common cold, but we managed it.
There were serious moments in the evening too. One member gave a heartfelt speech about the importance of giving blood. It was well thought out and delivered. My own contribution was more serious than most of the rest of the evening too, but what I've discovered about Toastmasters is that every speech - be it serious or silly - has its merits. Whether we spend the evening laughing or nodding in serious agreement, everyone leaves edified. And fed with yummy snacks too! I think it's safe to say that each Linguist of Listowel learns something new every Thursday night, and leaves feeling good about what they experienced.
What better way could there be to spend a Thursday night?
Who would have thought the common cold
could ever yield comedic gold?
But for those who wish to orate
the subject matter proved just great,
and somehow from this common thread
a lot of funny things were said.
We laughed at symptoms - cough and sneeze,
and at outrageous remedies
well guarded in some secret vault -
and laughter - how it does exalt!
Somehow a subject quite mundane
moved all into some fresh terrain -
promoting potions meant to heal
the varied aches and pains we feel.
And once our fancies took to flight,
Toastmasters chuckled all the night!
Those words - like mucus, phlegm and spit
embellish speeches quite a bit -
but best of all? The word catarrh -
a true vocabulary star!
A wonderful way to explain
an inflammation of membrane
from stuff that plugs the human nose
which each into a tissue blows.
The beauty then, of Thursday nights
is finding such profound delights
among folk not afraid to reach
for fodder for another speech!
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Jan 13, 2017
My husband and I have been looking for ways to meet people and get involved in the area since we moved to North Perth. Atwood doesn't have a lot happening, except the Lion's Club, which my husband promptly joined. (It's an "Atwood thing", we were told. Men in this town pretty well all become Lions or sign on as volunteer firemen, and since Todd is asthmatic and doesn't do ladders well, the choice seemed clear.) That helped Todd integrate, but I knew that I also needed to develop some interests outside my door, but still close to home.
While scouring a local community bulletin, I discovered that Listowel, a more bustling town just five minutes away, was looking for Toastmasters to join their local group. I've had some experience with public speaking, and for many years considered the possibility of becoming a Toastmaster to hone my skills. I thought it seemed like a possible way to meet nice people too, so I decided to check out the Linguists of Listowel and see what they were all about. Since I don't drive, Todd brought me to the first meeting, but as we were driving home he said he'd let Toastmasters be "my thing" if I wanted to join on my own. (He didn't want to cramp my style.) However, since we'd both enjoyed the experience that evening I told him I'd be happy to try something new and different with him. (Words every man married for decades longs to hear, right?!)
At our first meeting we didn't know what to expect, but we were seated beside experienced members of the group who explained each portion of the evening to us. We met a room full of warm and welcoming people who were encouraging with each other, and a lot more interested in pointing out each others' strengths than offering harsh criticisms of perceived weaknesses. We both left there feeling good about learning how to speak in front of these people. When we returned the following week we were greeted like old friends.
We've been involved for about a month now, and Thursday night's meeting was so much fun! The topic for the evening was "The Common Cold", which (I have to confess) didn't seem very inspired to me. I was asked to read something for the Literary Corner - choose any written passage and read it to the group - four minutes maximum. I got nervy and chose to read one of my own blog posts. I wasn't sure how well my efforts would be received, but I forged ahead and felt my post was well received. My husband was asked to be Grammarian - the member who enriches vocabulary by introducing a new word to the group, then counts how many times people fit that word into their comments, and also keeps track of the use of filler words (like um and eh) that speakers use that evening so that we all learn to root out negative speech habits.
In keeping with the theme of the evening, he chose the word catarrh - "inflammation of mucus membranes and nasal passages". Needless to say, that word got well used by every person present. The subject of colds, cold symptoms and cold remedies was a source of much amusement as the night progressed. A toast was made to Canada, for opening the country's secret vault of the best 150 home remedies ever. Our chair for the evening regaled us with fun facts about obscure cold remedies, and our Table Topics Master invented a fun game where he passed around two envelopes - one contained slips of paper naming common cold symptoms, and the other contained slips denoting unusual cold remedies. Our task was to remove one slip from the first "symptom" envelope, name and wax somewhat poetic about our symptom, and then spend the balance of the allotted two minutes explaining how the randomly-pulled cold remedy from the next envelope helped cure us - or didn't.
It's hard to maintain composure while people are talking about using outlandish home remedies like horseradish, or onion necklaces, to cure their cold symptoms. And the hilarity continued when people described exactly how they'd use each remedy to obtain relief. Snort that elderberry juice up your nose - it'll clear up the pesky catarrh in your sinus cavity! Bite into a clove of garlic - munch down that sucker like it's an apple - by golly it'll clear up your cough - and as an added benefit, continued use will keep anyone from ever getting close enough to share a germ with you again! Does chicken soup sound like a boring cure? Not if it's made with the recipe we heard! We also learned that French Canadians substitute gin for whisky in their Hot Toddies, and that the word catarrh just never gets old.
I would never have dreamed that so much laughter could ensue from discussion of the common cold, but we managed it.
There were serious moments in the evening too. One member gave a heartfelt speech about the importance of giving blood. It was well thought out and delivered. My own contribution was more serious than most of the rest of the evening too, but what I've discovered about Toastmasters is that every speech - be it serious or silly - has its merits. Whether we spend the evening laughing or nodding in serious agreement, everyone leaves edified. And fed with yummy snacks too! I think it's safe to say that each Linguist of Listowel learns something new every Thursday night, and leaves feeling good about what they experienced.
What better way could there be to spend a Thursday night?
Saturday, 24 December 2016
Four Gifts - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Four Gifts:
Let laughter ring out like the bells
that flying reindeer wear -
to warm our hearts through winter nights
and lighten every care.
Let friendship's glow enhance our lives
like twink'ling lights on tree,
and lift our spirits with its light
so we'll in darkness see.
Let love burn bright in every heart
like yule log on the hearth,
that all may feel its radiance
and hope might fill the earth.
Let voices raise in carols sweet
proclaiming precious gifts,
to sing of laughter, friendship, love,
and hope that ever lifts.
Whatever else we lack or want,
if these four gifts we give -
we'll surely see them multiplied
through all the days we live.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, December 24th, 2016
Last night we hosted friends in our home, and my new old house was filled with the sounds of laughter and friendly chatter. Some of the people we invited we didn't know all that well, and we wondered whether our invites - given on short notice - would be accepted. But almost everyone we invited came. Most were neighbours who already knew each other, two were guys who did so much work on our house last fall that they started to feel like family, and one was an old high school friend who traveled a couple of hours to share supper, goodies and conversation with a room full of strangers.
My high school friend and I reconnected on Facebook six or seven years ago. He was a guy I met at the lunch table the first week of ninth grade - never a romantic interest, just a buddy. I've joked that you never forget your first boyfriend, and that you likewise never forget the guy who skipped class to sit in the cafeteria and pass you kleenex when you suffered through the breakup with your first boyfriend, and Phil was that guy. So a few years ago we reconnected in person, and after decades of not seeing each other discovered that we still enjoy each others' company. (I think he also likes my cookies : ))
It's fairly hard for me to extend myself socially. My range of comfort is small, and just passing out invitations was difficult. We are the newbies here - I didn't know what any of my invitees would like to do, or what they liked to eat. Maybe they'd find my shindig boring. (Maybe they did - but if so they were all too nice to let on.) What I do know is that it felt like there was easy comaraderie, the conversation didn't lag. We laughed together, they ate my food (and seemed to enjoy it), and they all thanked me for the invitation when they left.
Phil remarked as he was leaving that it was so nice to see neighbours come together and seem to enjoy each other. I'm sure there are people here in my town who don't like each other much, or who just don't intermingle because they feel they have little in common. Maybe some of the people who came here last night feel that way about others who came. I don't know - but really that doesn't matter. What's important is that they all came and visited with us, and that we sensed no discord. Our furnace repair guy seemed to bond with the guy across the street, and one set of neighbours who moved into their home several months before us got to meet someone new to them in our small town. I hope everybody here benefited from our shared evening in some small way.
As I laid in bed last night, I felt hopeful that these new acquaintances would someday become really good friends. Each of them has already demonstrated kindness and generosity, decency and inclusiveness. I thought back over the evening, and how good it felt to bring together old friends and new friends, and to have their laughter echo through the rooms of an old house that is still new to us. That gathering brought together the best gifts we can give and receive - laughter, friendship, love - and the hope that all of the three endure in our lives.
These four things are gifts that never stop giving. I don't really care what presents I get tomorrow. Last night reminded me that I have enough, and that as long as I'm open to new friendships, to hospitality and laughter, to love and to hope, I will always have more than enough.
Merry Christmas to all of you, and may you each enjoy gifts of laughter, friendship, love and hope in the year to come.
Let laughter ring out like the bells
that flying reindeer wear -
to warm our hearts through winter nights
and lighten every care.
Let friendship's glow enhance our lives
like twink'ling lights on tree,
and lift our spirits with its light
so we'll in darkness see.
Let love burn bright in every heart
like yule log on the hearth,
that all may feel its radiance
and hope might fill the earth.
Let voices raise in carols sweet
proclaiming precious gifts,
to sing of laughter, friendship, love,
and hope that ever lifts.
Whatever else we lack or want,
if these four gifts we give -
we'll surely see them multiplied
through all the days we live.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, December 24th, 2016
Last night we hosted friends in our home, and my new old house was filled with the sounds of laughter and friendly chatter. Some of the people we invited we didn't know all that well, and we wondered whether our invites - given on short notice - would be accepted. But almost everyone we invited came. Most were neighbours who already knew each other, two were guys who did so much work on our house last fall that they started to feel like family, and one was an old high school friend who traveled a couple of hours to share supper, goodies and conversation with a room full of strangers.
My high school friend and I reconnected on Facebook six or seven years ago. He was a guy I met at the lunch table the first week of ninth grade - never a romantic interest, just a buddy. I've joked that you never forget your first boyfriend, and that you likewise never forget the guy who skipped class to sit in the cafeteria and pass you kleenex when you suffered through the breakup with your first boyfriend, and Phil was that guy. So a few years ago we reconnected in person, and after decades of not seeing each other discovered that we still enjoy each others' company. (I think he also likes my cookies : ))
It's fairly hard for me to extend myself socially. My range of comfort is small, and just passing out invitations was difficult. We are the newbies here - I didn't know what any of my invitees would like to do, or what they liked to eat. Maybe they'd find my shindig boring. (Maybe they did - but if so they were all too nice to let on.) What I do know is that it felt like there was easy comaraderie, the conversation didn't lag. We laughed together, they ate my food (and seemed to enjoy it), and they all thanked me for the invitation when they left.
Phil remarked as he was leaving that it was so nice to see neighbours come together and seem to enjoy each other. I'm sure there are people here in my town who don't like each other much, or who just don't intermingle because they feel they have little in common. Maybe some of the people who came here last night feel that way about others who came. I don't know - but really that doesn't matter. What's important is that they all came and visited with us, and that we sensed no discord. Our furnace repair guy seemed to bond with the guy across the street, and one set of neighbours who moved into their home several months before us got to meet someone new to them in our small town. I hope everybody here benefited from our shared evening in some small way.
As I laid in bed last night, I felt hopeful that these new acquaintances would someday become really good friends. Each of them has already demonstrated kindness and generosity, decency and inclusiveness. I thought back over the evening, and how good it felt to bring together old friends and new friends, and to have their laughter echo through the rooms of an old house that is still new to us. That gathering brought together the best gifts we can give and receive - laughter, friendship, love - and the hope that all of the three endure in our lives.
These four things are gifts that never stop giving. I don't really care what presents I get tomorrow. Last night reminded me that I have enough, and that as long as I'm open to new friendships, to hospitality and laughter, to love and to hope, I will always have more than enough.
Merry Christmas to all of you, and may you each enjoy gifts of laughter, friendship, love and hope in the year to come.
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