A tribute to my father-in-law

Just before Christmas, my father-in-law died.  He had been failing for almost a year, so in some ways, we had anticipated his death.  But his final decline seemed drastically sudden.  

My father-in-law was a university president for 13 years, and was known for his kindness and compassionate administrative principles.  He taught and administered at the same university for over 25 years.  He was involved in many community organizations, authored several books and edited many other books and articles, and was a respected academic and administrator.  He was, as his friend Alex Colville wrote, “a man of substantial intellectual accomplishment, of great energy, and of firm principles” and he was a man of faith.  He received 2 honorary doctorates, and was awarded a Commemorative Medal for Canada’s 125^th anniversary and a Queen’s Diamond Jubilee Medal. 

His funeral was a large and public affair, well attended by the community.  The funeral service remembered and celebrated his professional accomplishments, and his legacy as a community and institutional leader was recognized. 

He was an accomplished and respected man, and I respected him greatly.  And yet, in all of the public memorials following his death, I did not feel a great sense of personal connection to this public figure.  I did not know him as a community volunteer, or a teacher, or a pastor, or a university president.  I knew him as my husband’s father, and grandfather to our children.  The things that I personally know or remember about him are less connected to his public roles and his place in the community. 

My first memory of him is when my newly minted fiancé phoned his parents to let them know that there would be an addition to the family (me).  To put this into perspective, his parents lived in Nova Scotia.  We had a bit of a whirlwind romance, and had spent the summer working together, 4 provinces away, at a somewhat isolated summer camp, with no telephone (and before the days of cell phones).  Until I met my husband, I had never heard of his family, or his community, or the university where his father was then the president; before this phone call, they had certainly never heard of me, or my family. 

After my future husband broke the news that he was planning to marry this previously unheard of young woman, there was silence.  Then, in a moment of pure graciousness, my future father-in-law sputtered his congratulations.  Not just once, but repeatedly, as he struggled to react appropriately.  Later, when I knew him better, I realized that this news must have been a complete shock to him; I never knew him to be at a loss for words at any other time.  

The first time I met the family was several months later, when I travelled east to spend New Year’s with them.  By this time, they had all mostly recovered from the shock.  Both of his parents were kind and gracious, welcoming me into their family seemingly without reservation. 

 

I remember a very busy man, who made an 8-hour detour to see his first grandchild, just a few days after he was born.  He had been at meetings in Ottawa, and instead of returning directly to Halifax, he flew to Toronto, drove to our home which was about 45 minutes from the airport, spent a couple of hours with his grandson, and then returned to Toronto for the return flight to Halifax.

I recall a grandfather who quietly enjoyed his grandchildren.  When our children were small, whenever we stayed with the grandparents, the routine was breakfast with Grandpa.  As soon as the children were up, Grandpa would be in the kitchen, making morning tea as usual for his beloved wife, and then preparing bacon, eggs, toast with Marmite, and half a grapefruit for his grandchildren.  This was his time with his grandchildren, with no one else around.  As they grew older, the routine changed, but I believe that his pride in both of his grandchildren as they grew was limitless.  

I remember his retirement from the presidency at his university, which is in a small town about three hours away from where we live now.  He retired in 1993, about the same time that we moved to the Maritimes.  I remember his retirement party, and the number of town people at the party.  If I recall, there were at least as many town people as there were university people.  I have lived in a similar small university town for almost 25 years, and trust me when I tell you that is a remarkable sign of respect from the community. One of his greatest legacies was nurturing a cooperative and mutually respectful relationship between the Town and the University, which, based on our experiences in our community, is another remarkable accomplishment. 

When we were all gathered for his funeral, I spent a few moments in his study.  On his wall is a walking staff that the employees of the university’s Physical Plant created for him when he retired.  It incorporated items such as an antique doorknob, a piece of an oak railing, and other items from around the campus, all lovingly and thoughtfully assembled into this gift by various sections of the Physical Plant – electricians, custodians, groundskeepers, locksmiths, etc.  The accompanying letter explained the symbolism of the different components of the staff, and expressed appreciation for his dedication to the University, specifically, his support of the Physical Plant staff. 

 

I have heard a story from several people, most recently directly from the horse’s mouth, about a former student at the university, probably during the late 80s.  This student dressed as the Pope and “blessed” the football field before every home football game.  The former student recalled the day that a member of the University’s Security staff showed up at his residence room and told him that the University President wanted to see him immediately.  He wrote, “I remember being escorted into his office, thinking that I was about to be expelled for my alter ego shenanigans. He kindly introduced himself to me and we chatted. Then, he said, ‘I hear that you are planning to land in a helicopter at the football game on Saturday.’ I said ‘yes.’ He said, ‘You’re not flying it, are you?’ I said, ‘No, it comes with a pilot.’ He said, ‘You will not be carrying the Bible will you?’ I said, ‘No, I never do, it's a business law text book that I carry.’ He said, ‘Good.  See you on Saturday at the game, Good Luck!’”

These are some of the things that I will remember about my father-in-law.  A man who was serious about life, but not so serious that he did not enjoy it.  A man who enjoyed sports, but didn’t so much enjoy the analysis and would most aggravatingly turn the television off between periods of the hockey games or at halftime of football games.  A man who had a mind for details, so much so that when my husband’s older brother got married in Toronto a month earlier than we expected (when we were again working at the aforementioned camp with no communication), he wrote us a detailed letter about the family’s trip to Toronto, including where they stayed, what they were served to eat on the airplane, maybe even the name of their flight attendants, but neglected to tell us WHY they were in Toronto; the only clues we had were a brief mention of a rehearsal dinner, and the fact that the entire family (except for us) had made the trip.  Our suspicions were confirmed several days later, after a rare phone call home from the resort town on the other side of the lake.  He was a man of integrity who never forgot his working class roots; my husband often recalls that when his father became president, he informed the university community that budget cuts were inevitable.  He pledged that no one would lose their jobs; cuts would be accomplished through retirements and resignations, and he kept his word.  A man who took his profession and his academic and intellectual life very seriously, but was able to relate to everyone on a deeply human and personal level – from world famous artists and wealthy businessmen and politicians to the man who owned the local garage where he took his cars to be serviced to the woman who has cleaned for them for the past several years to the staff at the Physical Plant to a slightly intimidated young woman from the prairies who married his son, and everyone in between.  A man who deeply loved his wife of 64 years and called her by his own personal nickname until he died.  A man who took great pride in his children and his grandchildren, and all that they aspired to do and be. 

We will miss him.  I will miss him.  Requiescat in pace. 

Grey Cup 105, Ottawa

I know I write a lot about football; it is a big part of my life, and a big part of my family’s life.  From our local university team to the pros, with some occasional involvement in minor and high school football, we have all been involved in various ways: formally, through coaching and managing, or in other ways like counselling, teaching, tutoring, feeding, befriending, and fanning (is that a word?).  Even though you might not share our family’s interest or passion about football, I hope you enjoy reading about it.

It’s hard to believe that just over a week ago, my family and I were still revelling in that magical post-exciting-Grey Cup-snow-game high.  We have all returned to reality with a bit of a hard landing.  We are left with memories from a really fun few days in the nation’s capital.

 

Grey Cup 105 in Ottawa was my third Grey Cup in as many years, as you probably know. Each experience was different.  The first year, my team was in the game but lost.  Last year, my team was in the game and won (you can read about it here).  This year, my team did not make it to the finals at all, so I did not have a vested interest in the outcome.  Also this year, for the first time, my whole family was able to share in the Grey Cup experience together.

Before my husband arrived in Ottawa on Saturday morning, my kids and I managed to have a bit of fun.  The best day was Friday, which was a day off school for my young nephews.  We all went down to the Grey Cup Festival Headquarters at Lansdowne, and enjoyed an afternoon of activities.  My nephews and I became virtual reality quarterbacks (I was 3 for 5 if you’re interested), and they enjoyed climbing all over a military tank and asking questions of the Coast Guards (not sure what that has to do with football, but they had fun).  We visited the exhibit from the Canadian Football Hall of Fame.  The adult-sized agility drills that we enjoyed last year in Toronto were nowhere in sight, but there was a little kids’ agility test, and it was fun to watch big Zack Evans stepping over the hoops that his toddler son was struggling through.  We all enjoyed pancakes from the Calgary Stampeders free pancake breakfast (although mine came without sausage), and we picked up a bunch of free loot (pencils, Canada 150 pins, a water bottle for my daughter, and all kinds of other stuff).  We met (and re-met) players from the REDBLACKS and a few other teams, took lots of photos and got some autographs.  One of the silver linings of the REDBLACKS not being in the game was that the players did not have curfews or practices; fans were able to meet and mingle with them at a variety of venues. 

After the little kids went home for the day, my kids and I checked out the RNation Party.  I was super pumped about the Friday night edition; the headliner was Dwayne Gretzky, a cover band that we heard last year at the Argo Shipyard Party.  The Dwaynes opened for Sloan, who were performing next door at the Arena, and then came over to RNation and played for another 90 minutes.  They definitely did not disappoint.  Within about 15 minutes of their arrival, the place was packed.  I even got out on the dance floor, something I have not done for a very long time (no, there is no photographic evidence!).  If you live in southern Ontario and ever have the chance to hear Dwayne Gretzky, I highly recommend them. 

 

My kids went to see Sloan, but when they came back to RNation, they met up with a few of the Ottawa players, and for the rest of the evening, we hung out with a group of highly entertaining  young men.  They were mostly from Quebec, with a Californian thrown in for good measure. (I understand that he has adopted poutine as his favourite meal, and has a fine repertoire of French swear words).  There were a few shenanigans, a lot of laughter, and a lot of fun.

The game itself was classic CFL.  The forecast called for flurries, but before the game even started, there were people out on the field shovelling and ploughing snow (flashback to last year’s Eastern Final!).  We passed on the “ice cold beer” in favour of hot chocolates and hot dogs, and settled in for a game that started slow.  Eventually, the players found their grooves (and their traction), and the game picked up speed, and once again, it ended with the Eastern champions (the Argonauts) stunning the heavily favoured Calgary Stampeders with a last minute field-goal, followed by an interception (right in front of us) to win!

My Dad was a huge fan of the CFL, and I grew up watching CFL football on television.  My affection for the Canadian game solidified when I worked for the team physician for one of the CFL teams when I was much younger woman, and I actually came to know some of the players (the injured ones).  In all of my growing up years, we never lived near a football city, and I never had the opportunity to go to a live game until I was an adult.  When football became such a big part of my son’s life, and we saw some of our university’s players go on to careers in the CFL, somewhere in the back of my mind was the hope that someday I would be able to take my son to a Grey Cup -- preferably in Saskatchewan, because THAT would be a party!

But events like this cost money.  Airfare, hotels, food, game tickets…. Being a family with a single income for most of the time, and living on the East Coast, we have never been in the income bracket where attending an event such as the Grey Cup would be easy.  So deep down, I thought I might not ever get to a Grey Cup. 

Not in a million years could I have ever dreamed that not only would I go to one Grey Cup, but THREE!  Or that my team would win, and I would celebrate in the stands, on the field, in the locker room and at the Grey Cup champion party, with players and their families, some of whom I have come to know over the past few years, and with my family.  Or that my son would be a GREY CUP CHAMPION! (that still blows my mind!). 

My son has decided that it is time for him to pursue some other career goals, so this year marks his last season of employment within the CFL.  It has been, for me, a magical four years football-wise, and I am so grateful to my son for sharing it with me, and with the rest of our family. 

I am not planning to go to another Grey Cup any time soon.  And nothing will ever top the experience of last year, when my underdog team, against all the odds, won the Grey Cup in a thrilling overtime, and we were a part of it.  But you never know, there might come a time when an opportunity presents itself. If it happens, I will be excited and grateful.  If not, that’s okay too.  It’s been a blast! 

Food

Those of you who know me, know that I am not a diet person.  There are quite a few reasons for this.  First and foremost, I like food.  I like food, and I especially like dessert.  My husband always jokes that when we go out to eat, I choose the dessert first, and then decide what my main meal is going to be (and, truth be told, sometimes it isn’t really a joke).  I like all the stuff that is bad for me.  Chocolate.  Candy.  Chips.  Bread.  Meat.  Cheese.  Ice cream.  Pizza.  Fries.  Milk.  The occasional ginger ale.  You get the picture.  

As I have gotten older, I have become slightly more discriminating in my tastes, particularly when I am eating out.  For example, I rarely order dessert now because, and I say this without a trace of arrogance, the desserts I make are better.  I am sometimes more conscientious about considering healthier menu options like salads, because I have discovered that there can actually be more to a salad then just a heap of lettuce with a bit of something else thrown in.  As people demand healthier options, maybe restaurants have been forced to be more creative in their salad making, and lately, I have been known to pass up my go-to fish and chips for an interesting looking salad.  I never eat red meat in a restaurant (except for the occasional burger) because it is never done the way I like it.  I love salmon, and could eat it every night for dinner without getting bored. 

I have never been a dieter, and have never in my life gone on a fad diet.  No Atkins, no Paleo, no Keto, no gluten-free, no dairy free, no vegan or vegetarian (although for several years during Lent, we ate mainly vegetarian dishes in solidarity with those who have little food).  

So you might be surprised to hear that this spring, I decided to try a low sugar diet which was posted on Facebook.  (See it here.)  The meal plan for the 7 day diet was designed by a dietician using recipes from Chatelaine magazine.  The description of the menu plan said “This week-long low sugar diet aims to keep your energy levels high and your mood regulated by balancing blood sugar with the right combination of foods at each meal and naturally sweet foods that let you indulge in a healthy way.” Sugar, as you know, has been on the dieting hit list for a while now, and I was feeling guilty about my consumption of sugar.  I decided to jump on the bandwagon and see if, in fact, a week on a low sugar diet would make a difference to how I felt, both physically and mentally.
 

The overall result was that after a week on this diet, which I followed almost to the letter, including cutting out all candy and chocolate (I know, right?), I did not feel significantly different (healthier, more energetic, more alert) than I did before.  I did, however, lose 8 pounds.  That could be because I was almost always hungry.  I felt that the meals were not substantial enough.  I was always hungry at bedtime, and since there were no after supper snacks in the menu plan, I did not eat any.  I would start each day feeling very hungry, and frankly, a smoothie for breakfast did nothing to quell that gnawing hunger.  As to my mood, well, my dear husband would have to answer that question, but since I was hungry a lot of the time, I’m betting he didn’t see much of an improvement. 

I realized about halfway through the week that I do not actually use a lot of sugar in my meal preparation.  And now that it is just two of us eating at home, I do not make desserts as often as I used to.  Most of my sugar intake comes from my 2 cups of tea a day, and snacks and candy.

I learned that a diet like this one, with lots of fresh vegetables and snacks, is labour intensive.  There were not many “quick” meals, and even some of the breakfasts involved chopping, peeling, cooking, etc.  I missed my quick cereal out of a box breakfasts, and I found that I spent a lot of time every day doing meal prep for almost every meal.  

Diets in magazines like Chatelaine often seem to be quite urban-centric in the sense that many of the ingredients are either difficult (sometimes impossible) to find, or expensive -- or both.  I never did find any sprouted grain bread in my local grocery store.  I had to drive to Moncton to find some of the ingredients (cacao nibs, unsweetened dried cherries) at Bulk Barn, which is neither convenient nor cheap.  I could not get halibut, as it was out of season and when it is in season, it is very expensive, so I substituted salmon.

I missed potatoes.  And cheesy garlic fingers.  And milk.  And my morning cup of Earl Grey tea with one teaspoon of sugar.  The diet plan did not specify acceptable drinks, so I assumed that water and herbal tea were all that were allowed.  

Diets like this also seem to be missing components of what I consider a healthy diet (but I am not a nutritionist).  For instance, the medication that I take has a side effect of calcium depletion.  I am not an expert, but it seemed like overall, the amount of calcium-rich food was low. 

Some of the recipes were not very good.  The lentil soup was tasteless and if you have an issue with texture, like I do, not pleasant.  And it made an entire soup pot full.  I gave a large container to a football player, and even he did not like it.  

Tofu will never again happen in my house.  This point is not open for discussion.

This diet pushed me out of my comfort zone.  I tried some things I had never tried before, like peanut butter on apples, which I actually liked (yes, really, I had never had peanut butter on apple).  A few months later, I have made a few of the recipes again.  In particular, I really liked the Smoky White Bean Chili, the Beef Barley Soup, and the Apple and Walnut salad.  I would never have mixed nuts with yogurt before, but now I eat some form of the yogurt/blueberry/cherry/walnut mix almost every day, usually for lunch, and I love it.  I find that I am snacking (most days) with more healthy food, although life would not be worth living without the occasional bag of chips.  

It is highly unlikely that I will be jumping on another diet bandwagon, unless research suddenly shows that chips, chocolate and cookies are miracle foods, or unless I have to because of a medical condition.  But I have to admit that I am glad I tried this one.  It taught me a few things about my body and my attitude towards food.  

And now, I think I hear a chocolate mint Girl Guide cookie calling my name.