Blah...Blah...Blog!

So many of you have been complaining. When's the next post? It's been 3 months! Write something already! Here's a quote from an avid reader. "Please don't end the blog. At least don't end it with that opening picture of that 'young stud' with the big hair!"

Okay! I hear ya! So I'll end it with a pic of this 'old dud' with no hair! Happy now?

When we started this blog in October of 2009 it was intended to serve a 3-fold purpose.

1) To give you an insight into our wonderful world with Philip. To bring you up to date on his life and hopefully to position him as a normal guy who suffers (unbeknown to him) from an abnormal condition. I believe we accomplished that.

2) To take you along on our travels after leaving Ontario in October of 2004. You got to live with us on the 'Rock' and enjoy the rough and rugged uniqueness of a people and place I call heaven and Diane calls home. Then you got to travel with us from the Atlantic to the Pacific - where we presently reside enjoying the pristine beauty of Northern British Columbia...with its magnificent forests, its teeming rivers, its majestic picturesque mountains, and the wonderful Western Canadian wildlife...

Meandering Moose

Burly Bears

Big Burly Bears!

Daring Deer

Scary Sasquatch!

...and, of course, its endless, unceasing snow that just keeps on keeping on!

Enough already!

3) And finally, we wrote this blog to introduce Philip to families outside of our circles who may, due to their own 'special' circumstances, find a refreshing ray of sunshine, some hope and consolation...a much needed 'up' in a situation that, in the quiet, lonely, meditative moments, can easily bring you down.

A number of organizations, one being the Head Injury Association of Canada, have The Scorekeeper on their sites. We trust someone, somewhere, might be encouraged by Philip's story.

So this might very well be the grand finale to this particular blog. Philip's life (at 32) has become pretty routine - and you've become privy to all of it. Should anything new develop, we'll put it here. But don't hold your breath!

He won't be launching a career ("I have a job...keeping scores, you know!"). He won't be getting married ("I'm single...who cares!"). And he won't become Prime Minister (although there are times I think he could do as well or better!).

When Philip was a young boy, doctors prepared us for a 25 year life span. Well we're way past that and thankful for every magic moment he remains with us. One thing's for sure...he'll always be our pride and joy...he'll always be our shining star...he'll always be our SPECIAL son!

"And don't you forget it!"

COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS!

Philip can often be so annoying. Physically or verbally interrupting at the most inappropriate times. Like when I'm watching TV and my favourite commercial comes on. You know the one...Head and Shoulders...football player...big hair! And right in the middle of their mesmerizing dialogue (which I know from memory having seen it now for the hundredth time), Philip asks some ridiculous question...like, "When's supper, I'm starving?" So annoying!

Or like when Diane and I are in a heated debate (hehe) over my apparent inability to properly clean the bathroom. "You cleaned it without your glasses on, didn't you?" And just when the gloves come off..."Yes I cleaned the mirror - has it not been saying anything to you lately?"...in barges Philip, holding his finger, blood dripping all over the 'clean' floor, and mumbling some nonsense about cutting it on a can of pop. So annoying!

But most of the time he's very elevating and entertaining. He's a happy guy and radiates happiness much more than 'normal' folks. Tears are always 'of joy'.

Here are some examples of how his innocent behaviour and naive approach to life keep us smiling, laughing, and 'loving him to pieces'!

Recently cousin David went to Vancouver to watch his beloved Phoenix Suns play the Toronto Raptors in a preseason basketball game. He'd been planning this trip for a while, and Philip was privy to all the details. He was just as excited as David, even though he wasn't going (at the age of 31 Philip has yet to master the art of envy - that particular concept is completely foreign to him, so entering into another's excitement is no problem for him).

The game was being televised, so Philip was convinced he'd see David - at Rogers Arena...among 18,000 fans. He couldn't wait for the game to get started. The TV was cued up and he was in hyper-watch mode. All senses on high alert! If cousin David was in that crowd - Philip would know it!

I was out that night, so missed the game. When I arrived home, Philip greeted me at the door. I could sense the excitement, the jubilation, the satisfaction. "So, how was the game, buddy?" I asked. "Oh it was awesome - the Raptors crushed Phoenix!" he replied. "And?" I quizzed. "And, I almost saw David!" he beamed. I looked over at Diane and she gave me that 'knowing' look. "That's great Philip, you must have been so pleased." "Oh I was", he said. Then he asked how I'd made out at the card game I'd been at. "I almost won", I replied. "Good for you, dad", he rejoiced...and turned to leave. Just before entering his room, he stopped, looked back, and with glee oozing from his innermost being, commented, "What a night, eh dad?"

What a night indeed!

Church can be a funny place. Recently we attended a special event there which commenced with a magnificent Baptist meal (I sure hope the Baptists run the kitchens in heaven). Philip attended with us and together we sat at a table of 8. After the meal there was a break while the tables were cleared. I remained seated, as did Philip's teenage friend and a woman, aged, and I'm guessing here, around 35. Philip had gone home to check on a wrestling match which was on at the same time as the dinner. When he returned I leaned into him and asked why it was so important that he had to go home (remember, we live only 3 minutes away). He assured me it was all good - this was an important match. I wasn't about to argue, after all, he'd willingly chosen G-O-D over W-W-E! "What match is that?" I inquired. He looked over at the other two at the table, moved in close to me, and with genuine concern, whispered into my ear, "I don't want the young ones to hear. It's the Hell-in-the-Cell Match!"

Well, I was so impressed (shocked, actually), thanked him for his discreteness, and quickly turned away - so he couldn't see the huge smile on my face.

Philip knows nothing about Robert's Rules of Order, nor has he any clue who Ann Landers might be...but he sure knows how to conduct himself in social settings. Someone's done a good job with this young man. That would be his mom! My yelling and screaming at the refs and umps and all the lousy ads on TV certainly haven't helped his social acumen - and these negative influences have proven to be a never-ending battle for Diane. But hey - what else has she got to do!

So we're sitting in church last Sunday. Diane and I in our finest 'Sunday-go-to-Meetin' duds...Philip in his runners, his beige cords and his bright red Detroit Red Wings jersey. A can of pop in one hand - a pencil in the other. He was good to go! The offering plate is slowly making its way down our row. Philip sees it. Panics! His hands are full! The tension is evident. Diane takes control. And being an 'interventionist' by profession (or is that by birth?...hmmm), she intervents (intervenes?). Reaching across she takes the plate from the person sitting to Philip's right. He thanks her profusely, takes a sip of pop, and settles in for the long haul. I mean the sermon.

Ten minutes later the Pastor is well into his message...mesmerizing the masses...placating the penitent...satisfying the saints...scorching the sinful! Philip's attentiveness suddenly wanes. He becomes fidgety. Nudging close to Diane he slowly lowers his head down on her shoulder. Diane leans in and asks, "Are you all right? Are you feeling ill?" "I'm okay, mom," he assures her. "It's just that his words are making my eyes tired!"

And with that he stood up, edged past us to the end of the pew - and headed for home. We found him there 20 minutes later, nestled snuggly in his bed, fast asleep. Purring peacefully like the angel (hehehe) that he is.

Our blessings don't always come from the church. They're often a lot closer to home!

SOME FUNNY STUFF!

Philip couldn't get enough of Julie and Johnny

Once Diane healed of her bicycle mishap, we enjoyed a very memorable summer. Three weeks were spent in Ontario with Julie and Johnny and a host of wonderful family and friends. We caught the August heatwave, with the accompanying unbearable humidity. Couldn't wait to get back to cool, comfortable, refreshing Kitimat (snow still on the mountains when we flew in!).

Philip had the time of his life! The first day we spent at great friends (yes, Eileen, I said great) in our old neighbourhood. Philip was up Sunday morning, got dressed, had breakfast, and went out into the court. Just like he'd always done. Six years have passed, but not in his mind. He stood alone for an hour or so on Rich and Eileen's front lawn...watching, waiting, wondering. Where is everybody? He thought his friends would appear, as they always had, and they'd play some basketball or get a good game of road hockey going. It was funny, yet sad, watching him. The excitement...the anticipation...the puzzlement.

Finally life stirred in the court and together we visited and reminisced with the old (and getting older) gang. While not wanting to admit it, or concede to the inevitable, Philip knew things had changed. And he was fine with it. We spent the next 21 days running all over southern Ontario enjoying the company of as many family and friends as we could squeeze in. It was hot and hectic - but well worth it!

On the flight home Philip bumped his head on the luggage compartment above our seats. It was nothing. We've been home now for 5 weeks. Philip remembers only one thing about his vacation...and reminds us constantly. "How was your trip to Ontario, Philip?" friends here will ask. "Bumped my head - won't be going back!"

Philip's cousin Lindsay is getting married next year...on the Island...near Victoria. It's a 3 hour flight...or a 2 day road trip. Guess how we're travelling?

It's that time of year again. No, I don't mean time for the Leafs to embark on another losing season (although that's likely the case), but time for the bears here in Northern British Columbia to pick up the pace in their quest for food. Winter's coming - and they need to bulk up.

So the sightings and encounters are numerous. Most sightings are more intriguing than they are threatening. The bears want food, and are quite content to limit their foraging to the river banks (fish), your fruit trees (apples), or your garbage cans (Diane's cooking). I'm kidding! I usually take it down to the river so it can't be traced!

A few weeks ago the town of Kitimat enjoyed a very unique occurrence. We were graced with the visit of a rather large, and certainly rare, Kermode bear. Of course, while those in whose back yards this bear spent some time were not that enthralled, those of us watching from a distance were quite impressed.

The Kermode (pronounced ker - mod - ee) bear, also known as the "spirit bear", is a subspecies of the American Black Bear living in the central and northern coast of BC. and noted for it's white or cream-coloured coat. A male Kermode can reach 500 lbs or more and stands up over 6 feet tall. It has been over 35 years since one was sighted in Kitimat.

In the Terrace Airport (40 minutes away) resides a beautiful Kermode (stuffed and encased in glass). It's a beautiful sight and a memorable attraction for tourists passing through this region. To have a 'live' one in our midst proved to be a unique experience indeed, and was without a doubt the 'talk-of-the-town' for several weeks.

However, regardless of this bear's uniqueness, he still provided some anxious moments and so the conservation authorities moved in and, according to the newspaper article, he was "captured and relocated". Some of us are wondering if that means "he's gone to the airport!".

Kitimat saw an unusual number of Grizzlies this summer, and consequently, the black and brown bears were sparse (they don't get along). However, with the weather turning colder, bears of all persuasions are appearing, keeping residents on their toes, and the authorities scrambling. Seldom a day goes by that we don't hear a gun shot (usually blanks) in the neighbourhood, driving the predators out of the area. Time for a visit, anyone?

Diane supervises a pre and after school-care program at the local elementary school just around the corner from our house. She walks to class each morning. These days it's dark at 7 a.m., so either Philip or I walk with her (for some reason bears don't impress her). Usually the jingle-jangle of keys, the blast of a bear-horn, or an invitation to dinner will send the brute packing. (Recently a seasoned veteran of this 'wild kingdom' of Kitimat suggested a much easier and less expensive way to scare the bears away. "If you ever come face-to-face with one," he said, "simply reach down, scoop up some fresh poop, and throw it at the bear. He'll take right off!" I was puzzled and asked, "How do I know there will be fresh poop available?" "Trust me," he smiled. "There'll be plenty!"

Is she gone yet?

So on this particular morning Philip was up and eager to walk his mom to school. I poured a fresh cup of coffee and settled in at the computer. Another harrowing day ahead of me!

Suddenly the front door burst open and in rushed Philip. Gasping for breath, he collapsed on the couch and started yelling. "A bear...A bear!" I looked passed him to the entrance and inquired, "Where's your mother?" "She's out there in the parking lot! She sent me home!" (Everything in me wanted to ask how the bear was - 'cause you sure don't want to mess with Diane when she kicks into defense mode!)

Anxious and confused, I prated on. "Was it a big bear? Was it a black bear? Was it a brown bear? Was it a grizzly? Did mom pick anything up and throw it at him?" Philip looked puzzled. I continued. "Should we call the conservation authorities? Should we call the police? Should we call for pizza - she might not be home for supper!"

Philip's head was spinning! My heart was racing! "Where's my coat? Where's my boots? Where's the remote - Jeopardy's just starting!"

The phone rang. It was Diane. She'd gotten to the safety of her classroom with the help of a coworker and wanted to know if Philip had made it home okay. "He's here...he's fine", I replied. "How about you?" "I'm good," she assured me. "Just a little unnerved". She went on to tell me of the encounter. "It was a small cub playing on the sidewalk. He was probably as frightened as we were and we were not likely in any danger."

Except that where there's a cub, there's a mother. And therein lies the danger!

Diane assured me everything was fine. The police had been called and the bears would be dealt with before the students began to arrive.

I hung up the phone...sighed with great relief... flicked the kettle on...and went to Philip's room. "How's mom?" he asked. "She's fine," I replied, thinking I might have to work through this traumatic event he had just experienced. "Good," he said. Then turned back to his binders and continued recording his scores. Sensing my lingering presence, he looked up at me and asked, "Can we go to A&W for lunch?" I assured him that would be perfect and walked away amazed at his take on life.

I made myself a fresh cup of coffee, checked the floor to see if there was 'anything' I needed to 'throw' out, then returned to my computer...and the continuation of my harrowing day!

A few days ago Philip came charging out of his room more excited than me the day I'd passed into grade seven after 3 years in grade six (c'mon...I'm kidding...it was only 2!). He felt it necessary to interrupt us with astounding news (we were deeply engrossed in the frantic antics of the Iron Chef...or was it Bobby Flay...no, it was Gordon Ramsay!). Regardless, it was very rude of him (heeheehee - it was perfect timing and I thanked him later. In fact, I've encouraged him to interrupt at will anytime he hears that the Food Channel is on).

I hit the mute button. Silence ensued. "What is it Philip?" I implored. "You're gonna freak out, dad!" (mom was already 'freaking out', 'cause I'd muted her show).

"Jose Bautista (Toronto Blue Jays) just hit his 50th home run!" "Wow!" I exclaimed, genuinely excited with Philip. We'd been waiting for Bautista to reach that landmark (he'd just surpassed George Bell's team record of 47 in one season a few days earlier). High fives all around!

Philip was ecstatic...I was jubilant. Diane was reaching for the remote!

"But wait, guys," Philip interjected. "That's not the best part!" I held my breath. Diane held the changer. "What on earth could top that, Philip?' (here comes the 'freak-out' part). "Dad, he hit his 50th on the very same day that I have exactly 50 pencils!"

Oh my! Stop the presses! Bar the doors! Call CNN! This is Breaking News! 50 home runs...50 pencils...all on the same day!

I think we just eclipsed the aligning of the planets in 2012 predicted by Nastradamus! The melting of the Polar Icecaps certainly takes a back seat to this! And raising the Titanic? Why bother...obviously a non-event!

We sat in silence...savouring this magic moment.

Then, as quickly as he'd entered the room, Philip spun...and was gone! Back to the peace and comfort of his room. Diane looked at me, a tiny tear running down her cheek...and 'un-muted' the TV. Bobby Flay had suddenly become boring! I curled up on the couch, dried my eyes, smiled with pride...and 'zoned out'...dreaming of a 'home run' myself (wink - wink). Diane, sensing her impending doom, grunted, threw a cushion at me...and assured me tonight she was pitching a 'no-hitter'!

Ahhh! Benched again!

Isn't life grand!

WHAM-BAM...SUPER SLAM!

Recently I discussed in this blog the wonderful sidewalks of Kitimat. How they meander unobtrusively through the town...through the neighbourhoods...linking schools, and churches, and playgrounds, and shopping centres, and businesses. How they are meticulously manicured in the summers and ceremoniously cleared of ice and snow in the winters. How those serendipitous cement walkways are a celebration of the environmental sensitivity and community friendliness of this fabulous little northern British Columbia town of Kitimat.

Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!

I take it all back!

Two weeks ago my lovely bride of 41 years and I were strolling peacefully along one of these 'wonderful sidewalks'. Side by side...almost holding hands...enjoying the golden serenity of a fresh, warm summer's day. Amicably conversing about a wonderful life (Diane had just turned 60 the day before). Love was in the air! (heehee) We were headed for a quaint little bistro where the soups and paninis are to die for.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, with the silence and stealth of a B-2 Bomber, a cyclist slammed into Diane from behind and crushed her to the ground beneath his full adult weight of 180 pounds...leaving her with several cracked ribs, a bruised wrist, a confused and disheveled countenance, and a shattered dream of spending precious 'alone time' with the 'pitter-patter' of her heart (that would be me).

Cousin David had picked Philip up just minutes earlier - we were 'alone' f0r at least 2 hours. (You can tell we're getting old 'cause we bolted out of the house to grab a soup. Years ago we would have bolted down the hall to grab a...well, you know!).

In the cyclist's defense, who readily admitted to travelling too fast and neglecting to announce his presence, he did make a valiant effort to protect his victim as they crashed to the recently manicured grassy knoll! But in doing so his left arm , which he had wrapped around Diane to cushion the impact of the impending 'splat', crushed her rib cage and temporarily knocked the wind out of her (now there's a joke in there somewhere, but I'll defer to my better judgement this time...my ribs are still intact!).

After we helped Diane up, brushed off the grass and twigs, and stabilized her stance, she kicked into true 'Diane-mode'. "Are you okay, sir? Are you hurt? I'm okay...are you?" (of course he was okay...he landed on top of you!). I stood there in silence, amazed at her 'take' on the situation (yet not surprised). But I lost it when she asked him if his bike was okay? Is your bike okay??? I'm surprised she didn't peel off a twenty to cover his damages!

Diane assured one and all that she was fine. The 'mad bomber' picked up his unscathed 'weapon of mass destruction' and slowly pedalled away. We proceeded on our way...holding hands now...and Diane in complete denial. Twenty minutes later we were at the hospital. Doctors were called...x-rays were taken...instructions were mandated. Overnight was not an option...we were good to go.

This is actually Marilyn Monroe's chest x-ray ...taken at age 28. I felt it was quite comparable to Diane's ...taken at age 60 (hmmm).

We got home before Philip. Diane was in severe pain - couldn't breathe deep or cough. The couch became her refuge...Tylenol and Aleve her best friends. In came Philip... full of vim and vigor and displaying more energy than that 'silly rabbit'! We told him of the afternoon's events. He was genuinely troubled...expressed sincere concern...asked a lot of questions. Then gave his mom a big hug!

She had just been crushed by a 180 pound stranger. She was now being hugged by her 180 pound son. Not a word...not a wince out of her! Wrapped in his embrace, Diane looked past him, right at me...a stern warning look emanating from her tear-filled eyes...letting me know it was all good.

He, nor anyone, has hugged her since. She's healing perfectly, according to schedule, and far be it from me , or Philip, or anyone, to jeopardize that process. After all, we're leaving for Ontario this weekend, and hauling those suitcases through the airport is going to be hard enough on her! (just kidding...or am I?).

A few days after that insidious incident I took Philip to the scene of the crime. As we came around the corner, just a few meters from the site, we were greeted by a blockade...announcing that the walkway was closed.

I couldn't help myself. I told him"the District of Kitimat has closed that stretch of sidewalk to protect the public from the heavy equipment they've brought in to excavate and repair the crater-size, body-shaped hole left in the aftermath of your mother's collision with the 'psycho-cyclist!"

He looked at me with complete confidence in my explanation, knowing his dad would never joke about something as serious as this, and simply replied, "That's true!" He couldn't wait to get home and tell mom...everything.

Diane's not eating much these days. I, on the other hand, have been 'eating crow' quite regularly.

Philip's concern for his mother's well being, is, after 2 weeks now, finally tapering off. Initially he was very attentive, helping hoist her up off the couch with her right arm while she held her ribs tightly secured with her left. Each time she coughed (which someone with bruised or cracked ribs is encouraged to do to prevent congestion and possibly pneumonia) Philip would be quick to ask, "Are you okay mom?" And on more than one occasion he barged into our bedroom at 3 a.m.to assure himself that mom was okay before calling it a night. Diane, in a sleepy haze and a dry scratchy voice assured him everything was fine. He would leave satisfied and content...his world was intact...he was fast asleep within minutes.

Diane, on the other hand, was now wide awake...head exploding as her sugar was low from lack of food...and her ribs screaming as she twisted and blindly crawled, groaning, gasping and groping (no, not in my direction...darn!), but towards her night stand where that ever-present, yet currently elusive, bottle of Tylenol awaited ...just out of reach of her pleading fingers.

Now I'm up, tending to the bruised and broken, serenaded by the soft purring of a peacefully sleeping young man down the hall - totally oblivious of the chaos he has unleashed.

We wouldn't have it any other way.

Our world is intact too!

Sorry for the long delay since the last entry. It's been hectic around here, I tell you...hectic! What with colonoscopies, parades, hill climbs, poker games, birthdays, World Cup Soccer...why, where's an old retired guy supposed to find time?

Here's what's been happening:

Julie's not coming to Kitimat. Which means we're going to Ontario...for 3 weeks. Philip took the news well, considering he had gotten her room ready, purchased pencils and sharpeners of her own, and told everyone in town she was coming. Yesterday we caught him dragging this big box of 'stuff' he had meticulously prepared for Julie from her room, down the hall, and back into his room. He said it was all good - he could use the extra pencils anyway!

A few weeks ago, as you know, Philip took a telephone call, answered a bunch of questions, and informed us something was going to arrive in 7 days. Well fortunately for us, 'they' got his name and the address wrong...so apparently the 'package' was returned to sender. Desperate calls ensued and messages were left requesting the correct details so the package could be resent. Finally Diane took one of the calls and, true to form, verbally 'slapped them silly' for selling something (a long-distance telephone plan of some sorts) to an individual who didn't have a clue what they were talking about. Their ineptness at being able to identify legitimate responses to their 'pitch' was driven home with great diplomacy and tact. The conversation ended with 'sincere' apologies and assurances that 'changes' to their tactics would be forthcoming (yeah right!). Now had I taken the call I would have gladly taken them up on their long-distance plan...by reaching out and touching (strangling) someone (this is why the smooth-talking, silver-tongued, no-nonsense Newfie handles the sensitive stuff around here)!

Last week I went for a Colonoscopy. Oh my...!!!

I've always heard 'protect your health',

Don't smoke, or drink, or chew.

Eat lots of fruits and vegetables,

They're really good for you!

So here I am at 61,

Convinced it's all a farce -

'Cause just last week the doctor shoved

A sewer snake up 'me arse'!

He said my heart and lungs were good,

Blood pressure a bit high.

Cholesterol was right in line,

I was a healthy guy!

So why then for the past few years,

Have snacks for me been sparse -

And why last week did I get shoved,

A sewer snake up 'me arse'?

They made me drink this awful stuff,

That made me ache and groan.

Two days without a bite to eat,

I lived upon the throne!

Then to the hospital by noon,

Exposure wasn't sparse,

They put me out completely while,

That snake went up 'me arse'!

So here is what I've learned from this,

Eat, drink, and party on.

Enjoy those greasy burgers, 'cause

It's all a scam...a con!

Don't waste your time on labels,

Countin' calories?...a farce.

'Cause once you hit that Big Five-O,

They're snakin' up 'yer arse'!

We had told Philip that I was going to the hospital that day at noon and would be out about 3. He was to meet mom there at that time. His concern and eagerness got the better of him...he got to the hospital at 12:30. Spent the next 2 hours asking everyone if they knew where his dad was. Told them "dad was here to get something 'copied'!" If only...

Canada Day in Kitimat

Two years ago Philip was a celebrity in the Canada Day Parade.

This year he was left wandering and wondering!

So we went into the big hall at the River Lodge (where the parade ended), and joined in a charity Texas Holdem Poker Tournament. This was Philip's first time playing live with the 'pros'...he did well...certainly held his own.

Hill Climb in Kitimat

As a part of the Canada Day Festivities, the annual Hill Climb took place on Saturday. Hundreds of drivers from BC and some from out of province showed up to race their 'machines' up the incline that takes you from lower Kitimat to upper Kitimat. A perfect 1/4 mile stretch for drag racing and showing off your cars and trucks. The crowds..the noise...the fabulous food...all make for a great event.

Here's Philip with his entry! (I'm kidding of course...it was really Diane!)

Birthday in Kitimat

Philip turned 31 on Saturday, July 3rd. He never tires of envelopes (with money), gifts and cake. But then who does?

He figures if he looks away, it won't be socks or underwear!

This was really neat. For years we have purchased Jos Louis Cakes for Philip as a treat. But always 1/2s...not the full round cakes. Too much sugar (and too tempting for mom). About 4 months ago the local Super Valu stopped carrying the 1/2s...actually Vachon decided to stop making them available at this store. Philip was devastated...and let the staff at Super Valu know! He also let them know his birthday was coming (along with everyone else in town). So on Saturday he and I went to pick up some groceries and as a birthday surprise, Carol, the Bakery Manager at Super Valu, was waiting for him. She had taken a box of the full rounds...cut them neatly in half...individually rewrapped them...put them back in the box...printed 'Happy Birthday Philip' on the box...and presented it to him when he walked in! He was one happy camper!

(thanks Carol...thanks Super Valu...for being so good to Philip!)

This town has been really great to and for Philip. Two days before his birthday friends from the church showed up at our door asking for Philip. John (dad) and Zack (16 year old son) are ardent sports fans (wrong team of course...Phillies...booo!) and have endeared themselves to Philip over the past year. They had been out shopping somewhere, seen this Detroit Red Wings jacket...and thought...we know who would love that! Bought it and presented it to him as a gesture of kindness...didn't know it was his birthday (obviously one of the few in town he'd missed). My birthday's in January guys...Chicago Black Hawks...Stanley Cup Champions!(heehee!)

On Saturday they picked him up and took him to A&W for lunch. No wonder Philip doesn't want to leave Kitimat!

But unfortunately someone we all love and hold dear is leaving Kitimat. Young Tristan (seen here enjoying a pancake breakfast with Philip at the church) is moving back to Prince George (8 hours away) tomorrow. He and Philip are second cousins, and despite the 21 year age difference, are the best of buddies. We wish Tristan well and look forward to his visits back here to Kitimat to see his dad and grandmas and grandpas. Take care 'punk'!

"Is this the party to whom I'm speaking?"

Philip loves to answer the phone. When it rings, and he's not near it, he yells "phone!" as loud as possible to let us know. As if we're deaf (of course we are now as a result of that brutal announcement!).

If he's near the phone, he's very quick to answer it...and conducts himself like a real gentleman...unless it's Johnny on the other end. Then the nonsense goes on...and on...and on. We love it. And it's always the same after he hangs up. "I'll get him!" (watch your back Johnny, 'cause one day he will!).

"...oh I'll get you!"

Over the years we have educated Philip in regards to telemarketers. With display phones, he knows not to answer if it says 'unknown caller' (wish I could teach Diane that. Not that she likes to talk, but the other day the phone rang, she answered it, talked for 30 minutes, and happily hung up. I asked who it was. She replied, "Wrong number!"). But in Philip's case, every now and then a call slips through ('cause it just might be his brother, and this time he'll get him!).

Once, back in Ontario, when Philip was about 12, we came home and were greeted by a very excited young boy. He launched into this story about a phone call and how he'd given his name, and address, and said 'yes' a few times...and that something was coming in 7 days! Diane made a cup of tea, I poured myself a 'stiff one'...and the interrogation began. Twenty minutes later we'd determined that Philip had ordered an annual subscription to our local daily newspaper - The Hamilton Spectator. He was so proud! Diane looked at me and smiled...she knew I received a copy every morning at my desk at work...for free! Home delivery cost 52 bucks. What a deal! For the next year Philip faithfully brought the paper in, removed the sports section, and handed us the rest. It was money well spent!

A few years later we were surprised again. Diane opened the door one day to find a man standing on the front door step with a giant water cooler, which, apparently, we had ordered. Along with a year's supply of 'fresh, crystal clear, ever-so-tasty, locally produced, spring water' - delivered weekly 'right to our door'! Diane quickly called me at work. I, of course, knew nothing of this ('cause I had a glass of fresh spring water delivered every morning to my desk!). Then in unrehearsed and unsolicited unison we uttered,"Philip!"

Well sure enough, after inviting the 'waterworld wonder' in and calling Philip from his room, it was determined, in no time at all, how this 'deal-of-a-lifetime' had found it's way into our home. Philip had answered the phone, listened intently to the pitch of an aggressive sales person...readily agreed to 'whatever' had been said...and then neglected to inform his parents.

Now had it been this cooler...well!

Needless to say, Diane was not happy with the water man, and discussed her displeasure with his company's inability to discern legitimate responses to their telemarketing ploys. He listened patiently as she berated him, apologized profusely, assured her they would better vet future potential customers, asked for a glass of water (hehehe), and left.

That was over 10 years ago. Last week the Scorekeeper informed us that he had again taken a phone call from an unknown source...answered several questions (mostly with 'yes')...and that we would be receiving something in 7 days! Oh joy...oh bliss! He has no idea what he agreed to. But rest assured, unless it's a Russian Mail Order Bride, or an autographed picture of the recent Stanley Cup Champions (thank you very much) - the Chicago Black Hawks - it's going back!

Speaking of blowing one's horn! Aren't those South African zuzuvelas annoying? I was so looking forward to the World Cup, but that constant droning of those horns is driving me, and apparently half the watching soccer world, crazy!

Philip won't watch the games. He's never shown an interest in soccer - never will now! Hates the noise of those 'jet engines'. Says he can't "contrate"(concentrate).

But put him in front of the TV on Monday Nights...in front of 18,000 screaming, insane, mindless, maniacal wrestling fans...in front of a plethora of idiotic, steroid-sated, brazenly hairless, metallically-bronzed, baby-oiled, 'grown' men purporting to be professional wrestlers...and crank up the volume. Now that's concentration!

There's a place for horns. Like at the ready in your back pocket when sharing the sidewalks here in Kitimat these days with the bears

...or if you're in Pamplona

...or if you're a Viking!

...or a Swiss Mountain Man

...or Foghorn Leghorn!

...or a French dude

...or a Horn of Plenty

They belong in cars...

...and on bicycles...

...and on rams!

...or at the tip of South America!

But not at Soccer Games!

(grrrr!)