The Results May Vary

Observations from my Mixed Up World


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Easter Memories

We had one of the best Easter Days in a long time this year.  Maya let me sleep in until 6:34 am and then accepted a bagel, a blanket and a promise that we would check for the Easter Bunny in about an hour.  I even got that hour before both kids landed on the bed demanding that an immediate search for Easter loot be launched.  My wife, never a morning person except where presents are concerned, uncomplainingly left the bed and directed the search.  I worked magic at the Keurig and then later in the kitchen.  Milo finally got the pancakes he’d been craving.  We went as a family to the gym and swam in the pool.  After the gym, we discovered a new restaurant, ate a meal that could actually be considered adult and then enjoyed an orgy of Dancing with the Stars.  Overall, such a great day.

I was reflecting tonight about how Easter was when I was young.  My sister and I bolting down the stairs fearful that the dog had eaten all of the chocolates.  Discovering that the Easter Bunny had left the traditional pairs of rubber boots and raincoats for both of us.  Getting dressed in brand new clothes and going to church.  Sometimes even risking the foundations of the building by bringing my dad along with us.  In my teens, serving as an altar boy sometimes at as many as 3 services.  Finally getting home around noon for a small meal and then waiting for the hordes of family to arrive.  Loud aunts, gruff uncles, cousins you liked, cousins you hated, grandparents laden with treats and extended family too.  Battles would be fought and won, wounds licked and ripped open, in short, a family affair.  And food… there would be so much food that you knew what you’d be eating for the next week even before the first mouth full.  I’m certain that my love of food comes from how eating together was such an important part of being together as a family.

Things change.  Time moves on.  Traditions grow.  Still family at the centre of celebration.


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What would you tell yourself?

CBC Radio, often my muse, posed an interesting question today.  What would you tell your sixteen year old self if you could send a message back in time?  After pondering for the 45 minute ride home, I’ve come up with this:

  1. Lighten up.  Don’t think that things are so serious.  As Dad always told you, No one takes you seriously so why should you?
  2. Get some compassion.  Things are not as black and white as you think.  In fact, this is the last time in your life that you will ever be so certain that you are right.
  3. Embrace everything that comes your way.  You’ll be tempted to turn away from new experiences because they are new and scary and come at inconvenient times.  Grasp them.  You will wonder what might have been and they won’t take you so far from the path you want to be on that you can’t get back.

What about you?