Book of the Week

The snow's all melted but it's still cool for this time of year... a good excuse to kick back and finish reading a book I bought as part of my Christmas cum Birthday present from my sister, Shelley (thanks again)! (If I'd known the online prices were so much better than the store prices I would have shopped online!)


In this autobiography Bobby Ackles describes his career. He literally climbed from his first job as water boy for the earliest incarnation of the B.C. Lions football team, to the front office of the current Grey Cup champs/contenders, with some significant stops in the NFL and XFL along the way.

Like most sports memoires it won't win a Pulitzer, but it's an enjoyable read. I found it interesting to see the transparency that exists between the CFL and NFL. Bob describes working relationships amongst football teams and individuals that move easily across the national boundary and league lines. When teams are looking for the right staff and players, there seems to be a level playing field. The right person for the job, with the right professional team experience is usually considered. That's interesting.

Because he was so much involved with team building and player evaluations and so forth, I would have enjoyed more insights into the key differences at various positions that might determine a player's chance of success in one league versus the other. In the epilogue Mr. Ackles touches a little on this, but more would have been appreciated:

"The NFL is a different kettle of fish - because it is huge. It's a different game. The athletes are different: in general, they're about 20 percent bigger, faster and more powerful. Still the same values hold sway in each league."

"If you have quality Canadians, you can find American players for other positions. There is just such a huge pool of talent south of the border.... Finding talented Canadians who can play at a professional level was more difficult."

He shares some insights regarding how professional players have changed over the last few decades, for example:

"...Kids today are coached constantly and, as they get to higher and higher levels, especially in the U.S., they receive specialized attention. In college and university, they have 10 to 12 assistant coaches... there are as many as 20 assistant coaches in the NFL..."

He's vociferous about keeping the NFL out of Canada, as he believes it would kill the CFL:

"... I sure don't want to see the Grey Cup game disappear, especially just because a few people in Toronto need an NFL franchise to feel good - to feel they're "major league." That's really what it is, isn't it? Ego. ... You will eliminated the economic benefits, the players, the support staff, the money that the Grey Cup brings into each host city. The economic impact of the Grey Cup in Vancouver was between $46 and $48 million. ... Other than for a few people and one city, what is the advantage of a (NFL) franchise -- except, as I say, for a few greedy people to turn $1 billion into $6 billion, while screwing the rest of the country."

I guess that's pretty clear!

I enjoyed seeing how hard work, dedication, loyalty, luck and a little chutzpa propelled Bob through all levels of professional football. It's nice to know this still happens.

Earth Day 2008, April 26, Bowen Park 11, am-4:30pm

Bowen Park has been transformed. A brand-new stream flows through the forest. Built by DFO last year, as a natural fishway it allows fish access to the Millstone River, bypassing all the falls. It works!

Last year coho swam up the channel to spawn in the river, and some of them spawned in the channel itself. If you haven't seen the new stream, you have never lived. The Goldstream is lame by comparison. On Saturday, April 26th, you will have a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see this modern miracle. If you want to come down and see the stream, there will be a conducted tour at 11:30 am.

 After four months of intensive planning, the Earth Day Committee is hosting Earth Day Nanaimo 2008. It was no small task, but we have set up for a fun event, with music, stuff for kids, and most important of all (to me), a tree-planting tournament. We have purchased 150 native plants, and we need to get them into the ground, to protect and enhance the new stream. We are doing an ivy removal exercise, to liberate the native trees from the tyranny of this invasive parasite. We will provide the tools but if you want to bring a pair of snips to cut ivy, please do.

 For kids, there will be a fishing expedition, using fry traps and nets, to see what is there. The kids can go wading in the creek, using special buckets to see the life beneath the surface. Budding biologists will be supplied with waders and nets to do their own exploration.  The flowers are in bloom, so you will see White fawn lilies hiding in the forest.

P.S. the White fawn lilies are still out at Piper's Lagoon.

April Showers ... of SNOOOWWW!!?

Here's what we woke up to this morning! I guess it's a good day to stay home and read and putter... D'OH!

A Day

First, a musical theme for this day:



A deer hobbled past my window Saturday morning, unable to put weight on her left rear leg. She'd injured it - probably struck by a car. Some days I hate the world we've made, where our need to move seems so pressing that we've invented hurtling, lethal masses of metal which we drive at speeds harzardous to every other living creature on the planet. I hate our cities and roads that cut swaths through virgin forests, destroying habitat and creating new, incomprehensible mazes for all the forest beings.

And some days I don't know why God loves us so much, because frankly, on these days, I'd just as soon do away with us all and leave the planet in peace.

In my heartache I drove my own hurtling hunk of metal out to the parrot refuge where I spent the afternoon cuddling Ester. His remnant tumor on his tail was bugging him. Some days he can't rest because he seems to have twinges in his legs from the scar. So he fidgets and twitches and scratches at the tumor until he pulls the scab off and it bleeds. And that's okay with me (and Wendy). We don't "scold" him like some do for picking at this. Sometimes a wound just needs to bleed. I think.

So I hold him and massage his legs and stroke his ribs and pray in his ear. I remind him what an amazing creature he is and how beautiful he is. I tell him of his future when he will fly more freely and gloriously than we can ever imagine here in this painful era. And I recall the scriptures telling me how all of creation groans, awaiting it's ultimate liberation on that day when we the children will finally be born and fully revealed.

In the meantime my heart groans and like the psalmist's it cries out: "How long, Lord? How Long?"

Soon a mother and father arrive at the front counter with their daughter. She's about 15 years old but due to autism she seems much younger. She has trouble communicating, but apparently she's been here before with her school and loves the birds. She blurts out phrases from time-to-time which remind me of Dustin Hoffman's character in The Rainman. Her name is Stephanie.

As they begin their visit the parents soon realize that Stephanie cannot handle the continual noise and turmoil of the parrots, so Dad retreats outdoors with her to enjoy the warm spring day. Mom takes her turn to visit the other parts of the refuge before returning so Dad can have his visit. And I take Ester out for one his favourite pastimes - a walk in the sun.

Ester and I finally join Stephanie and her dad on a bench by the front door. Ester is now resting in my arms half asleep. Steph loves having the bird close by and from time-to-time she reaches up to stroke his wondrously soft feathers. Then she pulls her hand back as if she's experiencing something too lovely to endure, shuddering in delight. She blurts out some unintelligible (to me) words.

And maybe this is a good analogy for my heartache today. Maybe life in it's wholeness is just too wonderful for me? I do know that to be open fully to the true joy of the world, we also have to be open to the pains and disappointments as well. It's as if these two extremes are felt with the same sensors. And to live life wide open to the one, means being open to the other. And isn't this what all the poets of the ages have tried to tell us? That in order to truly laugh we also have to truly cry.

Slowly, my heart-sorrow and pity for the deer, and for Ester, and for Stephanie and her parents begins to fade and is replaced by admiration for their courage and strength and endurance. I am gently over-whelmed by their determination. That they dare to go on despite the suffering. Every day, they choose to care. They choose to live.

My heart heals just a little.

Then it's time for me to leave the refuge.

At the Qualicum Beach airport the sun is still brightly shining. A few small planes come and go, but generally I putter in solitude, surrounded by the sounds of life as I prepare my small plane for flight. Building and flying this machine was another experience in emotional highs and lows. There were exhilarating moments of accomplishment and thanksgiving, and there were times when I wanted to turn the damn thing into a huge lawn ornament - or worse. The final test of will came when the engine problems surfaced, causing several near power-losses in flight. I finally tracked down the cause and fixed it. Since then the engine has performed flawlessly. But trust, once broken, heals slowly - one flight at a time.

Soon I'm airborne again, surprised as always. When I really think about it I am still in awe that I can lever skyward borne only by ephemeral wind made solid through speed. The snow capped peaks of Mount Arrowsmith shadow me on the right, while the calm waters of Georgia Straight bracket me on the left. I climb to three thousand feet and put the aircraft through some gentle stall maneuvers, feeling the airflow breaking and re-clutching the surface of the wing. I take note of some airspeeds which I will use later to form a more detailed picture of the airplane's performance envelope.

It's good to be lost in activity.

The radio silence is momentarily broken as a small group of pilots returning from a day-trip to Tofino and back chatter happily. It's been a glorious day for sight-seeing across the mountains. I know how close the west coast of the island is by air and hope to make the same trip myself soon when both I and the aircraft are ready. Sometimes life seems to be about waiting, but its actually about preparation.

The flight ends with a smooth approach and touchdown as I see how slowly I can land and how little runway I can use. More information for the flight manual. As I pull back into my parking spot, and shutdown the engine and pop open the canopy I sit peacefully for a moment, feeling the freshness of the breeze and the warmth of the late afternoon sun.

It's been a day of huge emotions and now I'm spent. I'm calm.

The Life goes on. The Day is just a little closer. Even so Lord Jesus, Come.

And now maybe I'll close on this hopeful note:

April Showers

If you believed the forecast you'd think it was rainy here most of this week. But it wasn't. The showers were fairy sparse with many sunny breaks. But the temperatures have been around plus 8 degrees each day which is a littler cooler than the average of 13°.

I see the weekend is forecast to be mainly sunny and a balmy +16 or so! Whoopee.

Rainy Morning and King's Cafe Article

So, just to tell the truth, it does sometimes rain in Nanaimo - like this recent morning. But happily, by afternoon the sun was breaking out again. We seldom get those long dreary rainy spells that many associate with the west coast. And at least the trees are blooming.

This recent newspaper article was published about Gregg's new restaurant adventure, The King's Cafe:

Walking Near Nanaimo Lakes

The snow in the hills around town is largely gone although there's still lots on the moutain peaks. We drove with our neighbours up the Nanaimo River road and then walked on some of the forestry roads that aren't currently open to traffic. The huge S64 logging helicopter showed up and was apparently doing some training in the area: