Things one should never outgrow:

Thanks for the reminder, L. 

politeness, charm, civility. 

Potty-training is challenging, but my grandson is teaching me a few things I suspect we should all review periodically.  

After his first BM in the toilet, and before he received several Smarties, my grandson (altogether sincerely) had this to say about that first flushing, "Bye-bye poop. Have a good day." 😄

 

Prescription

One of my favourite actors, Robin Williams famously portrayed Dr. Oliver Sacks in the film Awakenings. It seems to me there's a lasting alchemy in this convergence of two humans who greatly impacted the world.

A doctor, a professor, a writer, Dr. Sacks described himself as "agonizingly shy" but he developed a strong bond with Williams who much admired Sacks' gentle genius approach to neurology, informed by science but rooted in human connection. Williams loved that Sacks saw people, not patients and it's clear Williams infused this character trait in his film performance. 

Dr. Sacks wrote about his own struggle as a patient in his book, A Leg to Stand On. After a serious hiking injury, Sacks felt "legless" and disconnected from his body. Unable to walk for months, Sacks ruminated on his lost identity. Many years later, no doubt Williams ruminated in a similar manner as he secretly battled a form of dementia and its inevitable impacts to his quality of life and his legacy. Sadly, we all know what happened next. 

I miss these men in the world. 

Dr. Sacks' legacy is in his writings. He describes methods whereby a patient might cease to feel "the presence of illness and the absence of the world, and come to feel the absence of illness and the full presence of the world.”

But how? The film Awakenings explores this, but Dr. Sacks promoted a more everyday method to achieve the full presence of the world: he prescribed garden visits. 

Is there a better place to at least temporarily forget what bothers? Dear friends, just wondering: have you been outside today? 

Quilted

In Canada, September 30 is National Truth & Reconciliation Day, also known as Orange Shirt Day. Most schools and government offices are closed. 

In my community, to recognize and partake in ongoing reconciliation between Indigenous peoples and settlers, local school children designed quilt squares which were knitted together and displayed in solidarity.

If you're unfamiliar with this growing Canadian tradition, watch this CBC Kids video featuring the founder of Orange Shirt Day, elder and author Phyllis Webstad. Confronting racism, her story and growing activism has changed our country for the better. 

Lessons in Time Travel & More

During my morning hike yesterday, I suddenly remembered another September walk along a bluff of trees in my childhood school playground... shuffling along with Marci and my other Grade 1 classmates, led by my first teacher. 

We collected leaves. She instructed us to gather different colours, shapes, and sizes, to listen as our rubber boots crunched over them. Next, we sat in a circle along the trees with our treasures in our laps, and oh-so-beautiful Mrs. Pochipinski smiled, then invited us to smell our autumn leaves.

This morning's episodic memory experience has me wondering. What prompted this memory? Why was it so sudden and so vivid? Science teaches that our senses are linked to the brain's limbic system and those neural pathways are responsible for memory, thus our senses can trigger time-travel, especially smell as it connects more directly to the limbic system. 

Yet, while walking this morning, I don't recall any particular smell. Perhaps today's falling leaves unconsciously evoked that same smell from Grade 1? Or was it the same time in the morning, the sunlight and colours just so? Or a combination of all? 

I'd like to think there's only one answer to my questions: Mrs. Pochipinski. 

It's clear to me my grade 1 teacher designed an engaging lesson about the human nervous system, one that employed ALL our senses. Revisiting it felt like happiness. But, did Mrs. Pochipinski—hired and entrusted to lovingly exercise and build our brains—intend for this to happen? A first-year teacher, did she intentionally aim to not only engage us in the novelty of Fall's beauty, but also fast-track our new sensory knowledge into long-term memory? And wouldn't it be fantastic if she knew that someday, somewhere, she'd also be responsible for a little morning hike time-travel moment? Yes, yes, and I'd like to think also yes. For my low-key obsession with trees, and for my straight up obsession with description, thank you, Mrs. Pochipinksi. 

Dear friends, teachers make magic. Please support the important work they do. 

Things one should outgrow:

source

 groaking.

 Is this word new to you too? 

To groak (verb) means to stare longingly at a person who is eating in hopes of being invited to join in/them. 

Hmm. Someone starving? Of course. A child? Certainly. A pet? Perhaps...

But what if it's fries?! I have lots of thoughts: 

1. *gives the stink-eye*
2. Back off there, bud.
3. Get your own fries.
4. No.
5. Why didn't you order fries?
6. Look, I'll order more.
7. Just a few.
8. Okay that's enough.
9. *silent seething*
10. Groak off! 

UFBs

discovered in a child's
playground toy 
(insert horrified face here)

My son and I have spent decades marveling at bugs, especially those that attempted to ambush us, scare us, kill us. Yes, that's hyperbole; we reside in Canada, not Australia. But still. 

One of my son's first most complex utterances was, "Look dad, BIG HONKIN' SPIDER!" 😂 'Twas. 

These days we just text photos to each other: evil Spruce/June bugs, big-ass (honkin') spiders, and UFBs aka Unidentified Flying Bastards. 

This reminds me. No shade to the majority of the population, but I am astounded at how many of you folks belong to various group texts. I cannot endure text chains. Occasionally I experience momentary fomo, but (to me) most group texts feel more sad trombone than thrilling announcement. They're like urgent emails on Friday afternoons. Or like ringing someone's doorbell—not to socialize with them—but more like to stand in their yard. Ugh.

My son has similar feelings. But, and I bet he'd agree, I'd join a group text whereby participants simply share a photo of the bugs that attempted to slay them. Relatable, or um, no? 

Dear friends, do you enjoy group texts? Or UFBs? Also...if this post (ironically) feels a bit group-textish, I apologize and, as always, no comment is expected nor required. 

Caturday, kinda.

Thanks, M. 

I don't own a cat, but my 4-year-old granddaughter does, so if you're into Caturday (or need some light-heartedness), here are her adorable cat drawings. 

How do you like meow? 😀

Wait, wot?

Wait, wot? 

I swear this main-character-energy mushroom wasn't here yesterday?! I've read that some mushrooms can double their size in 24 hours, but this mushroom? She got quantum leap skills.  

Aren't mushrooms bizarre? They're fascinating. Wikipedia informs me this is a "coprinus comatus" aka the appropriately named "lawyer's wig, or shaggy mane fungus." 

Like all cunning villains, this character wears a wig, proving she's involved in some nefarious subterfuge, popping up into the garden, a stealthy baddie up to no good. It's like she's superbly styled by the genius artists from the series, Wednesday. 

If you're thinking, pea-brain put a leash on your revving imagination, here's the most astonishing fact I learned about her: "this mushroom is unusual because it will turn black and dissolve itself in a matter of hours after being picked or depositing spores." 

Wait, wot? If you look closely, she's already dissolving! No doubt she is currently popping up (right behind you) in your garden (insert Thing's soundtrack here). 🤣

Things that deserve the stink eye:

I know I'm a little late sharing my perspective on this embarrassing book-banning debacle, but I am so enamored by this Handmaid's Tale themed clap-back (above) from Canadian icon, Margaret Atwood (writer, historian, scholar, 85 year-old bad-ass) that I couldn't resist sharing it with readers here.

If you're unfamiliar with the context, here's my take: instead of collaborating with duly elected and trained Alberta school boards, school administrators and librarians (who have provincial jurisdiction over choosing appropriate school-aged reading materials), our provincial government leader, Premier Danielle Smith, yet again capitulated to the pearl-clutching anti-library lobbyists/zealots currently sweeping across North America intent on removing books they deem "woke." 

Using new guidelines from the Premier's Education Minister, one school district's list of 200 banned books was published just before school reconvened and the understandable backlash was swift and far-reaching so now this government has an international public relations disaster to contend with, lol. Titles banned included classics by Maya Angelou, Judy Blume, and Canada's favourite, feisty, freedom-loving Great-Aunt, Margaret Atwood. 

At first the government admonished the school district labeling their list an act of "vicious compliance" claiming it was never was a book ban. Uh, nope to that fake news. The school district was simply following the new guidelines...cut to now...the government is amending the order and "leaving the classics on the shelves." 

Please know that this is not who we Albertans are. Like all democratic citizens, we value freedom of expression. Of course, school materials should be age appropriate; however, lobbyists don't get to decide for us. 

Imagine in 2025 thinking books are corrupting children. If children have phones connected to WIFI, well (insert face palm emoji here) we all know what they may encounter...so, I'd much rather they read (almost) any book they want. Even if, as Margaret Atwood joked in her first reaction to the list, "it might set your hair on fire" kids, lol. 

One more cherry-on-top to this well-deserved political drubbing: there's been a spike in sales of these banned books, lol. I've read lots of these titles, but I too will be shopping in the new "vicious compliance section" and continue reading while my hair burns. 

Maps

Well done, M. 

My 4-year-old granddaughter already loves to write. 

When I was a preschool kid, I drew. I loved to draw maps: houses and roads and streets and rivers and ponds and trees all from a bird's eye view. I believe my grandparents had an atlas which introduced this concept. So I drew my maps and told stories about the people who lived there. I'd say that's early writing too, or as it's sometimes called in the education field, "dwriting." One might call it simple imaginative play too, but it's also a solid form of therapy. 

When I did begin writing with letters, you might think I wrote the stories conjured from my maps. Nope. I wrote lists. When our family traveled, I would list the name of every town and city and roadside attraction we encountered as well as the odometer reading at each location. (Call me early google maps, ha.) When my parents discussed those trips with company later, they would use my list to recall details. I finally had an audience. This thrilled me. Always the odd kid out, I suddenly had an identity in my family. 

Eventually, my lists became more complex and—thanks to TV and Stephen King's books—typically morbid. There was no audience for this phase. I would write a list of character’s names then cut them in strips to prepare for a random draw to discover which one would be disfigured in a terrible accident or who would lose his mind (or hand) and be sent to an institution for the criminally insane or join a circus. I recall being completely rapt by these lists and stories. Time dissolved. I once wrote an entire lifetime of a set of characters in a point form list. 

You might think I really enjoyed all the writing assigned in school. I did enjoy it; I didn’t take it seriously though. They didn’t want lists. And I wasn’t a particularly skilled writer either. My teachers constantly pointed out that I would often leave the “y” off the word “they.” Here’s a sample sentence: “The enjoyed the trip the took to the Rocky Mountains.” Not so smooth, eh? 

Eventually, I studied writing in both my undergrad and graduate degrees. I love teaching writing strategies to kids, and yes, they typically involve drawing, and other easy-access approaches. I want to assist them in unlocking and sorting their thoughts, ideas, and feelings. I now know that writing is just one option in the positive psychology toolbox. 

Most of my writing now is (once again) therapeutic. For an overthinker like me, it's seeking solace, and like those maps, helps make my journey more meaningful than melancholy. 

Dear blogger friends, when did you begin writing? Why? For what purpose?