SWIMMING, SIDEWALKS, AND SAVING THE DAY!

Philip goes swimming most Fridays as a member of the Special Olympics Swim Club.

He loves it! Wait...he hates it! What day is it? Tuesday? "Not going, dad. Too busy!" Friday noon? "I'll be leaving at 3:45 dad. You don't have to come with...I'll be fine." (and he will) Still 3 hours to go...not sure what's going to happen!

Last week we got there half an hour into his swim. He looked concerned, tired...actually scared. He wanted out so bad! We encouraged him to stay...just a few more minutes. He'd have none of it. We found out why...

...his swimming instructor had brought a 'friend'!

Kitimat is a city of sidewalks. They meander unobtrusively through the town...through the neighbourhoods...linking schools, and churches, and playgrounds, and shopping centres, and businesses. Meticulously manicured in the summer and ceremoniously cleared of ice and snow in the winter, these serendipitous cement walkways are a celebration of the environmental sensitivity and community friendliness of the little town in northern British Columbia that has, for the time being at least, become our home.

We flew into Kitimat 4 years ago. Left our van in Ochre Pit Cove, Newfoundland. It's still there. And we've yet to buy another vehicle. Haven't needed one. We've got sidewalks! The doctors are telling us we need to walk more...while environmentalists are insisting we need to pollute less. Combine these two concepts, and you end up here...in Kitimat. We love it!

But this is the time of year when safety on the sidewalks becomes an issue. One learns to stay alert - carry a stick or a horn - and keep a sharp eye out for predators...those nasty beasts who think they can just move in and take over our peaceful urban walkways.

Have a look...

...scary, isn't it!

Philip's life, as you know by now, revolves around a number of key factors. Pencils, binders, scores, movies, and his beloved Detroit Red Wings. Seldom, if ever, do any of these 'life skills' come into play, other than in his personal world. Off duty doctors are often called upon, at social functions, or family gatherings, to offer professional diagnoses and advice. As are lawyers, reporters, mechanics, and , of course, hairstylists. But aside from Diane and I calling upon Philip's expertise for dates and names as they relate to sports or movies, the Scorekeeper flies relatively undetected below the radar.

Except for last Sunday! It was a beautiful day here in Kitimat, and plans were quickly made to spend the day basking in the warm BC sunshine at Alcan Beach...just minutes from town. The family was summoned and those who could, went. And apparently, according to all reports, a fine time was had by all! The highlight being a delicious lunch served on the sandy shore of the placid Douglas Channel...the serene solitude interrupted only occasionally by the playful splash of a salmon as it swam safely nearby, unchallenged by the threat of a fisherman's deadly hook...or the sweet serenade of a spying seagull seeking crumbs from that food-laden picnic table...

...or the odd burp from one of these 2 hungry bears!

Anyway, back to my original point (no wonder Reader's Digest won't have anything to do with my 'short' stories!). Unbeknownst to the picnickers, in the vicinity was a local Geocacher. For the unlearn-ed, geocaching is a high-tech treasure hunting game played throughout the world by adventure seekers (known as Geocachers) equipped with GPS devices. The basic idea is to locate containers, hidden outdoors, called geocaches, and then share the experience online. If you take something from the cache you must put something of equal or greater value back in the container, so the next adventurer will find it intact. Latest estimates put the number of Geocachers , worldwide, at 3 to 4 million seeking in excess of one million caches.

So here's what happened next. (I learned of this 3 days later while attending an event at the church where I bumped into the Geocacher. Our acquaintance with him is limited to church functions and his and his wife's familiarity with our son, the Scorekeeper, via this blog. Of course, in Philip's world they're best friends!)

Our Geocacher (let's call him Joe), finds himself down at Alcan Beach on Sunday afternoon, drawn there by the coordinates on his GPS. The weather's perfect...the scenery magnificent. The adventure is on! The lure of the hidden treasure is overwhelming. He can detect discovery...he can taste victory!

Suddenly he realizes his worst nightmare! His personal Gulf of Mexico!

He needs to record numbers, coordinates, directions, details, clues! But he forgot to bring the necessary writing apparatus! He has paper...he has no pencil! Joe frantically searches his pockets...ransacks his motorcycle...hoping he stashed one somewhere.

Nothing...nada...nowhere! Now what?

He decides to drive back to his house...time lost...precious minutes wasted...victory slipping from his grasp! He needs a pencil! He turns to leave...disgruntled...discouraged (dis is getting good, eh?). He hears a familiar voice in the distance. He senses hope! He sees a familiar face. It registers. It's the Scorekeeper! His heart's pounding...he knows! Philip = Pencil! Philip = Pencil!

As Joe tells it, he ran towards his friend...he knew the day had been saved! Never even crossed his mind that Philip wouldn't have a pencil. Why who in their right mind wouldn't take a pencil and a binder...to a picnic!

Joe got his pencil. Located his treasure.

Philip got his 15 minutes.

And I got my story!

Isn't life grand?

Go Blackhawks!