Highway of Heroes

Good evening my friends,

I hope you are all well and ready for another exciting election season! ;)

Before I start in on our wonderful political landscape, I wanted to write about our 'Highway of Heroes'. I'm not sure how familiar anyone is with that name so I'll explain: sometime last year it was decided that a stretch of the 401 (or, more formally, the Macdonald-Cartier freeway) should be sub-named in honour of our deceased soldiers returning from Afghanistan. The stretch from Trenton to Toronto was chosen because the soldiers' bodies are flown to Trenton then transported via the freeway to Toronto.

I'm not writing this post about war, or about whether or not our soldiers should be there. It's not up to them where they go; they are brave enough to join our military and they are heroes regardless of what happens. This post is about us. The people who stay here. The people for whom the soldiers fight. The people who do not even think about those soldiers most of the time. I have a tendency to be somewhat cynical about us. Sometimes it seems as though we are heading quickly into hell in a hand-basket without any signs of slowing down. However, every now and then something happens and I feel as though there may be hope.

The highway of heroes gives me hope. If you haven't been on it or around it when soldiers have been coming home then you're missing something. Sorry. Twice in the past week I've been on the 401 when soldiers were coming home (which is probably why I'm writing this now). It makes me sad to think that twice in the past week we've lost Canadian soldiers, but it gives me hope to see all of the people who turn up to show their respect just by standing on an overpass and waving a flag. The first time I experienced it I didn't know what was going on because there were only police vehicles and personnel, firetrucks and fighters and other emergency personnel. The vehicles' lights were all flashing. We only found out later (from a firefighter) that they were showing their solidarity and respect in the best way they could think of.

The emergency personnel still come and flash their lights, but the overpasses are all crowded with ordinary citizens now from end to end. They hang the maple leaf flags overhead and they stand in silent vigil. It reminded me this past week that society is not wholly lost. There are still good citizens who care about what happens to others and about the good deeds done by those who have given their lives to protect ours (however remote that may seem).

I may not drink beer or play hockey, but I am Canadian and I am proud to be so.

Thanks for coming out, and drive safe peeps,

In Memory of My Grandmother

Hello Peoples,

This one might not be the funniest post I've ever made. It's never easy to break news like this, so I'll just say it: my grandmother passed away last night. She was 91. Her heart stopped (it was just worn out). This was neither a tragic nor an unexpected event, but I am still sad. I will miss her. I saw her at least once a week. We both used to live in the same house. Even when we lived in Vancouver and she lived in Toronto, she would come and stay with us for a while every winter. We were very close. She was my mother's mother. I was her only daughter's only daughter.

I spent hours last night trying to come up with a fitting tribute to my grandma and I just couldn't. I couldn't find the words to start. Too many memories were competing for attention in my head. I also couldn't find a digital image of her (I've only had a digital camera since June) so I'm not able to post her picture.

So, after nearly 24 hours, I've had time to think and I've decided to just tell you who my grandma was to me.

My grandmother, Annie Josephine McGilly, was the first seriously independent woman I knew. My grandfather died in 1966 (before I was born) and she never considered remarrying. She was single for the last 40 years of her life. When I first got to know her, she was living in a one bedroom apartment in downtown Toronto. She worked full time and took care of herself. She never learned to drive, she liked being driven around and took taxis a lot. Whenever she showed up for a visit, she always took us shopping. My grandma taught me how to shop. She was also a little bit stubborn, and so taught me (after a while) about patience. My grandmother was the first person I knew who had a bank card. She arrived from Toronto once with it and hadn't used it yet, so we walked down to the CIBC on the corner and figured it out.

Despite having been born in 1915, she was rather progressive in many ways. She was closer to being a feminist than many women I've met. She also taught me that you don't have to disrepect men in order to respect women. She never said anything like that, it was in her actions. She was brave (moved her family to Canada from Glasgow) and bossy (it was her decision) but also compassionate. When people needed help, she helped them. When one of her in-laws was shunned by the family for marrying a Protestant (huge scandal at the time in Scotland, good Catholics didn't do that), she took them in and helped them get started. She was a bit of a drama queen at times, but she was the baby of her family (the youngest of nine) and had been spoiled so that's to be expected. She was direct and had no qualms about asking people personal questions. And, for some reason, they usually answered them. Her advice to me was always to be true to myself and not make choices that other people wanted me to make just to make them happy.

Grandma experienced loss. She lost her parents when she was still a teenager. She lost her husband, she lost a son and she outlived all of her siblings. She outlived many of her friends and family (her generation). And even though she grieved, she never let go of life. She did not let the grief take over. Grandma was essentially a happy person who enjoyed life as much as she could and didn't really complain when she started to lose her physical abilities. She just accepted aging and failing health as part of life and didn't try to fight it, even though it meant that she could no longer do some things (like read, knit etc). I think her faith helped her through all her loss.

Grandma liked to party; especially if there was singing involved. I think one of her favourite days ever was on the day of her 90th birthday party. There were close to a hundred people there and she couldn't have been happier (she got to sing). She was proud of her family and what we'd all accomplished. She was glad she had lived long enough to meet her great-grandchildren. Grandma was kind and generous (she believed that since you can't take it with you, you should help people around you when you're still alive) and even mischevious. Many times we were co-conspirators with secrets for gifts that she couldn't get out to get, so I would procure them for her. She always had a certain twinkle in her eye when she was cooking up a plan. She often asked if we needed money, and before she became diabetic, she always asked if I had a 'wee bar of chocolate' in my purse whenever I got home. I usually did.

I'm not sad for Grandma, she was in a fair amount of pain on a regular basis by the time she passed. Her quality of life had deteriorated a lot in the past six months. I'm sad for me. I miss her, and I will probably continue to miss her.

Sorry for the melancholia folks, but this is a big event in my life. I had to write about it.

Keep safe peeps,