Just when you’re ready to give up …

It feels like the whole world is in shambles. It doesn’t matter in which country you live, there’s another crisis every day and scandals more often than that. Lying and cheating have become the new normal.  I’ve never seen so much lawlessness, so much anger, hatred and cruelty.

Everywhere I turn, including online in comments I read on various posts, articles and blogs, people are mean-spirited, aggressive, antagonistic and rude. Like they’re just spoiling for a fight. Disagree with something or someone and you can expect to be attacked, abused actually — verbally and

Celebrating my dad

I’m publishing my blog a day early this week because today’s my dad’s birthday. He’s been gone a long time, 31 years. Hard to believe. I never missed his birthday, even after I moved to Toronto.

From as far back as I can remember, my mother and I always drove ourselves into a frenzy trying to figure out what to get for him and how to celebrate. He was hard to buy for — not because he was picky — because he never wanted anything. He always said he had everything he needed. Same thing with parties. He liked to keep things low key. Except when the shoe was on the other foot and he was doing something for others — and then nothing was too good or too much trouble. He threw himself into the task with absolute zeal.

That was my dad. Kind, sensitive to the needs of others, caring and generous to a fault. He embodied all the values that are in such short

The first man in my life …

Yes, that’s me in the photo. With my dad, a very long time ago. Hard to believe I was ever that tiny. Oh, how I adored him. We were extremely close, up to the day he died, 30 years ago. Hard to believe that, too — that it’s been so long. I still think of him every day and still miss him like crazy.

He was an amazing dad. For that matter, he was a pretty amazing human being. Kind, thoughtful, open-minded, generous, loving, loyal, honest as the day is long.

When I needed advice it was my father to whom I turned, always, even as an adult. His friends and my friends often turned to him as well, as did many members of our family. You could always count on him to be fair, objective and

Back in the saddle again …

Well, not literally. I’m talking about the book I’ve been writing on and, more specifically, off for the last nine years.

When my mother was ailing I was struck with an idea for a book about her and me. I tucked it away in the back of my mind for later. I said nothing to anyone until the day after she died, when my closest friend and I were headed back to Montreal for the funeral.

As the words literally started pouring out of my mouth, my friend handed me some paper and a pen and I spent the rest of the trip writing. This
went on for the next three months. It was amazing, the book was literally writing itself.

Seven chapters in, I hit the wall. No, not writer’s block. I’d been

Day 324. Right? Wrong?

I think a lot of people associate the notion of “morals” with sex.  Maybe not so much anymore, but there was a time.  And not just in the Victorian era, either.  Life sure is different these days.

Lindsay Lohan declines to wear underwear; and for some reason, we have to know about it.  Everyone from Rob Lowe to Kim Kardashian has gotten their thrills by sharing their sex tapes with us (ugh!!!).  Presidents have screwed around publicly.  Prime Ministers have had sex with underage prostitutes.  And right in our own backyards teachers are having sex with students, and on and on it goes.

Looks to me like our moral fibre is unravelling pretty rapidly.  We’re on a downward spiral.

But, of course, morality isn’t confined to sex.  It comes into play with just about every decision we make.  Or don’t make, as the case may be.  It’s got to do with our standards.  Our conscience.  Our ability to differentiate

Day 125. Opening Up

Little did I know, when I first started this blog, what it would come to mean to me.  What it would do for me.  How it would help me, as a writer.  But while I was having my morning coffee a couple of days ago, I had an epiphany.  I’ll tell you about it in a minute.  First, a quick story.

I’m writing a book.  It’s about my mother, at a time when her health was declining; and she needed my help.  About a year ago I was having lunch with a fellow writer.  One thing led to another.  I won’t bore you with all the details, but she highly recommended her editor.

At the time I was at the half way point. It was a draft, not yet polished.  Still, the editor suggested I send her twenty-five pages.  When she got back to me, she insisted I wasn’t being honest.  “Where’s the resentment?” she asked.  “Don’t tell me you weren’t angry with your mother”. Truth is, I wasn’t.

If she’d asked for more pages she would have found out what had upset me.  There were feelings I shared.  Just not the ones she wanted me to feel.  Turned out she hated her mother; and projected her own feelings on to me.  Clearly we weren’t a good fit.

Since then I’ve done more work on my book.  A few months ago I had a breakthrough.  Important enough to stop writing and