What would my parents think?

I’ve been thinking about my parents a lot, which isn’t unusual. I’m often triggered by memories, lovely happy ones. This is a different kind of thinking about them though. I wonder what they’d make of the times we’re living in and how they’d cope.

My dad passed away first, many years ago, in 1987 so I think the adjustment to this world would be more shocking for him. My mom is just gone 14 years and although the last five or six years have seen massive change, she’d be less surprised than my dad.

Glass half full …

Read this article over the weekend in Maria Shriver’s Sunday Paper. The author is talking to parents about how to raise optimistic children in pessimistic times, but I think it’s a great message for all of us to keep in mind as we navigate our way through life.

Happy Days — http://time.com/5370788/raising-optimistic-kids-pessimistic-times/

 

 

What money can’t buy …

After yesterday’s post was published a friend emailed me to talk about it. One of her comments was in reference to my recollections of the Christmas lunches my father and grandfather had for their staff — her point being that it was probably those acts of kindness and generosity that were, in large part, what made their employees so loyal.

She was right, of course. My dad and grandfather treated their employees kindly, fairly and respectfully everyday, not just once a year at lunch. And in return, they had virtually
no staff turnover.

The comment got me thinking and, almost immediately, my

Despite all the gloom and doom …

Last week I wrote about the sorry state of the world. Ironically, at around the same time I was feeling overwhelmed by it all, a ‘gratitude’ challenge was making the rounds on Facebook. It was really interesting, and inspiring, to see what people were sharing.

I’ve been thinking about it ever since — and about the coincidence of the timing — and realize it’s for an important reason; and it carries an important message: No matter how bad or challenging life may seem we must acknowledge the good, what is working, what’s right, what’s positive.

Which doesn’t mean to say we should stop questioning, or paying attention or ignore what’s wrong or never feel sad or turn our backs on those who need our compassion and help. But we do have to learn to be grateful, to thank our lucky stars.

In my case, there’s a lot to be thankful for. Starting with the fact I woke up today. I know that sounds cliche,

Day 259. Appalling Behaviour

I escaped to Starbucks Saturday morning, in an effort to get out of my cleaning lady’s way.  Well, in an effort to avoid the chores she’d have given me, if I’d stayed home.  I had some writing to do, so staying home wasn’t an option anyway.  I’d never have been able to concentrate with all the tumult and the noise from the vacuum.

When I first arrived it was very quiet.  There were only about five or six other people.  Shocking, really.  It’s always packed in there.  Not that I was complaining, mind you.

Got a yoghurt and a coffee and snagged a seat at the harvest table, which is my preference.  More room to spread out.  Didn’t take long before I was totally engrossed in what I was doing.  Oblivious to anything going on around me.  Unaware of anyone coming or going.  Didn’t even have a clue what time it was.

Suddenly there was a blood curdling scream directly behind me.  And I do mean blood curdling.  High pitched

Day 14. Feeling Sentimental

August 20.  Today’s my mother’s birthday.  She’d be 90.  She was 82 when this photo was taken.  Her hairdresser took it; and no, she hadn’t had her make-up done by a professional for the shot.  She did it herself.  She put her make up on like that every morning, without fail.

My mother was an identical twin and they were born slightly premature.  Her disposition was 100% Leo:  She always had a smile on her face.  Always.  She was very outgoing, gregarious even.  She talked to everyone, including strangers in elevators, on the subway, in stores, wherever.  And no one ever seemed to mind.  They never tried to distance themselves from her, afraid she was a bit of a nut.  They carried on conversations with her.

When my parents sold their house after I’d moved out, they moved downtown, into an apartment.  It was a lovely, elegant building with a lot of old-world charm.  The original owner, a Greek tycoon, sold it to a Quebec-born millionaire, J. Louis Levesque. A businessman, racehorse owner/breeder and a philanthropist, he sat on the Boards of blue chip companies like Air Canada, Canadian National Railways, Hilton Hotels of Canada, Provincial Bank of Canada and many more.  Among the many honours he received during his lifetime, he was in the Canadian Business Hall of Fame, received the Eleanor Roosevelt Humanitarian Award in 1972 and, in 1976, he was named to the Order of Canada.

When he bought the building my parents lived in, one of the conditions of the sale was that the wealthy Greek would move out of the penthouse, so J. Louis and his wife could move in.

Well my mother struck up a conversation with him, in the elevator one day.  She instantly became his new best friend — to the point that, whenever he went fishing