The second act

Life begins at 40. That's a well-worn phrase typically meant to make that momentous birthday pass a little less painfully for those that are age adverse.

Last year, at this time, I turned 40. And at that time I found nothing to write in honour of that significant event. What did it matter, it was just a number, just another year. I did give it some thought though. 40-- it is the half way point in life—if you are lucky. The first half of my life was full of accomplishments, adventures and a little mayhem. What was going to happen in the second act? Was I just going to coast along in the life I had created—the house, the kids the job?

One thing I know about myself is that I am never content without goals, without something I am working towards. I had been sinking into a deep ennui for several years, all my goals fulfilled: I had my family, worked in my aspired to field, bought my house. I didn't know what I wanted next but I knew there had to be a next.

For many years I had debated applying for a MA in Adult Education. It was offered at a nearby university as a distance education program with only a short period required on campus. But after thinking about it for years, and looking at it seriously last winter, I decided it was not the program for me. The thought of it did not make my heart beat faster. If I was going to return to school for fun and excitement, I have never pursued education for practical reasons, this clearly was not going to provide that experience I was craving. I wanted to go back to school—I love being in university and learning new things—but the thought of this course of study left me cold.

But I knew university was the thing missing from my life.

I looked at the sciences. I have always been interested in Biology but the thought of slogging through another undergraduate degree was daunting—especially at my age. I looked into applying for a Msc but whereas my other degrees were in the Arts the likelihood of acceptance was not great.

This summer I took the advice that I had given others who were reluctant about going to university due to the time it would take to finish a degree; time passes no matter what you do but if you are in school –when the years roll on you have the degree, the experience, you were wanting.

I put time considerations aside and applied for my Bsc with a ball of excited anxiety pulling at my stomach. I looked at the course catalogue and knew it was the right decision. The thrill I got from the things I could be studying—it was like academic porn.

Going back to school for me feels like reuniting with an old lover; I'm a little nervous and a lot excited. I run scenarios in my head of the coming days, months and years. I'll caress my new text books and breathe in their heady scent. I'll stumble bleary eyed through the day, after a night of elicit learning, fuelled by the excitement of what I might discover at the next lecture or lab.

I'll enter exam rooms with the confidence of a seasoned vaudeville performer. It is my place, my home, my love.

I can't wait for the second act.

All that-- and I want the ring.

Dissonance

I am a time traveller,

shape shifter,

life jumper.

Past lives intersect in my nightmares and day dreams

They crash into each other at odd angles

Small town signs on big city streets

Asian smells in country kitchens

Beds unfamiliar and lives unfinished

Evolution and reincarnation with every rotation of the earth.

Where I am is where I am not.

Body and mind disconnected,

One constantly pulling the other into alternate realities.

The wheel always turns,

But time folds in on me.

That once straight arrow

Is bent and creased like discarded origami

Happy Anniversary

This week I celebrate my one year anniversary; an anniversary that was so life-altering that I just had to write a post about it. One year ago I started running.

I know I am about to start sounding like a religious convert; but running has changed my life. I could never have guessed that putting one foot in front of the other could make such an impact.

One year ago I hit the Trans Canada trail in my almost dead winter boots. The trail was packed with snow and ice-- but I felt the time had come to get out and do something for myself. In the past seven years I rarely found time to do anything recreational let alone physically challenging-- my mind and body were crying out for it-- but it was a need that would not be easily met after such a long period of physical dormancy.

I have always been an active person to some degree; have had bouts of being a weight-lifting gym monkey, dabbled in martial arts, fencing, kayaking, rock climbing. I have always been a prodigious walker. But running was a new challenge.

In the beginning I hoped to run 20 minutes without stopping; other than that I had no goals. I just wanted a 20 minute work out to fit into my always busy day.

Things started off pretty good by my standard—some of my first days out I could run for 10 minutes. Then other days doing five was a real chore. But once I had done 10 I knew I could do more.

In three months I was up to 20 minutes, not every day but most. I could run 5 km in about half and hour and was pretty happy with that. I ran almost every day that my kids were in school.

And then summer came.

Most people would consider summer a blessing for any running enthusiast but for me it meant less time to get out on trails and dirt roads because the children no longer had school.

It became my habit to run during every birthday party the kids got invited to; this often meant new roads in different areas of the county. Exploring new ground added to the adventure.

Luckily birthday parties were not the only excitement on offer for kids in this area over the summer holiday and I enrolled the kids in almost everything –recreation for them meant running for me.

I also went home to Massachusetts and went running there with my cousins and ran my first race—a 5 km to raise funds for a Boston bombing victim.

And when my family came to Nova Scotia for a visit, I had a running buddy and a supply of aunts to watch the kiddies while I hit the road.

After my first race I started to dream of more-- I got ready to tackle a 5 mile race in my home town. At first that seemed like an impossible goal but I did it and then did another 5 mile road race in the next town down the shore.

In July and August running 5 miles was the end of me for the rest of the day-- I had to come home and sleep. I could not run the next day. It took all my energy. So 5 mile runs were not something I was planning to make a habit of doing-- regular 5 km runs seemed good enough.

And then there was the dreaded coming of winter. I could not imagine being a winter runner. Those people were nuts!

Yet again I surprised myself and learned how to run through the winter. Running in the winter when it is harder to get overheated helped me run farther. I went from a regular 5 km run to a regular 5 mile run several times a week.

Now we are heading into a new spring and today I ran just over 6 miles and didn't feel like a limp rag after my run. I have also managed to stay up past 10 pm with no post-run nap.

Every day is not a 6 mile day but they are feeling more normal-- 5km is just enough to get me warmed up now.

When I used to see people running I would ask myself-- why would you do that to yourself? Now I have a few answers to that question.

Running has made me feel more energetic and less stressed. It is my form of meditation, my time to work out everything in my head.

Running always leaves me thinking about how much I can do the next day; excited to get out of bed and back on the road.

Running has brought me closer to some members of my family and my community. It has made me a better person who is disciplined in at least this one aspect of my life (despite my passion for writing I am never disciplined about sitting down and getting the words out on the screen).

The experience has been a conversion for me-- a new way of living, a new force in my life.

It warrants celebration- one year on the run.

Out on the town

Below is my not very embellished version of a conversation I overheard last night. Writing dialogue is tough-- just trying it out:

“The baby is kicking a lot,” she comments to her slouching partner who is sprawling artlessly in the chair on the other side of the table.

He orders another round of drinks. He does it loudly as if the carrying capacity of his voice increases his importance.

When his attempt at upstaging his forthcoming child's bid for attention fails, he bellows to the remote waitress, “Another round of drinks for everyone.” The room, including the waitress, continue to ignore him.

“Cathy and Phil are going to get married and she asked me to be the bridesmaid but that'll be hard when I'm pregnant,” she says.

“Get married, why the hell would they do that? Why the hell do that?” His reaction to the news is clearly disconcerting. Marriage is not something he's considering while his girlfriend sits there hopefully sipping her herbal tea sneaking occasional glances at her rippling abdomen. She looks off into the middle distance and imagines him on his knees with dewy eyes and a ring for her hand that rest lightly on her baby bump.

“She's had a really tough life and they are good for each other,” she tells him qualifying the reasons for marriage, the thought process behind proposals.

“Oh, Jesus. Would you look at that guy with the fucking cane. He's like 20 and he doesn't have a fucking limp. What a homo.” He orders another round as he watches the young man walk towards the bar.

“You go ahead,” she says as she plays with the lemon that remains on the bottom of her tea cup. If only the leaves within could instruct her, direct her toward the best path.

They're moving soon to Alberta. They'll never be close to friends or family he tells her, “Get used to it.”

“I found a program in Calgary where I can get my yoga certification so I don't have to go all over the place,” she tells him.

“I think I'll go to Thailand. Yeah Thailand,” is his response.

There are lots of ways to die in Thailand-- attack by supposedly tamed and sedated tigers, decapitation by train trestle, crocodile attacks in flooded streets, and the usual alcohol and drug related modes of self-immolation. But he's not seeking martyrdom, he's not planning to actually leave her and 'the baby'; which is unfortunate for them all.

Single motherhood is scary but not as scary as the man across the table.

They walk out of the bar; he's drunk at 7:30. She's only showing slightly but the bump may already be influencing her decisions; she's going to run while she still can.

Starting off on the right note

This is not a bucket list thing, this is a -- I finally have the time, money and opportunity—thing. From the early days when as a child I played a masking tape version of the 88 keys at my great-aunt Lois' house, to plinking about with a thorough lack of artistry at my great-aunt Eveleen's—learning the piano has always been one of those things; one of those things that I have longed to pursue.

As a youth I had visions of sitting around the piano and belting out show tunes and Disney classics. In school my friends and I had that opportunity every lunch hour where a piano practice room was made available to us and a die-hard group gathered to sing while one of the 15-year-old girls in our group played endless versions of 'The Rose'.

My favourite CD of all time is my Glenn Gould Goldberg variations-- it is perfect, right down to the huffing breathe sounds on many of the tracks.

Many kids had piano lessons. Many hated them. I didn't have the chance to hate lessons and longed for the chance to get my hands on those black and white keys.

I did play the flute one year. It was an instrument that we had in the house; it had been my mother's and the school I was in that year-- Dawson Creek; the same one with the piano practice room—had band class. My band teacher, Ms. Coats was wonderful and I spent, on average, two hours on practice every day after school and longer on weekends. Ms. Coats was always amazed by my weekly practice sheet totals.

I have several flutes at hand now—a Irish flute and a standard Boehm beauty with intricate filigree on the mouth piece, but instead of stepping back into the past-- and resurrecting my ability to play the flute—I want to move ahead and learn something completely new.

...

Had my first lesson and it is surprising what a spring it has put in my step. I even played one little practice song.

To Greg Favaro and the Favaro School of Music Performance; that was awesome. It is fabulous to have this opportunity. Thank you so much.

2013 in review

This is the year that I have had to accept that I am officially middle aged. I turned forty and the last of my grandparents died.

For some people, the death of a grandparent signals little about their own mortality but the longevity and persistence of my elders and their familiar place in my life, makes their passing a significant remark on the finite nature of my internal clock.

I have had the pleasure of knowing most of my great-grandparents, and all of my grandparents; to have known them all well and had them see me in the fullness of my own adulthood. As the last of the grandparents left earth this year I could see that for everyone, even for those as rebellious as Beverly Haley, there is an end. And in her end I see my own future.

As for turning 40—it meant little. I kept feeling like I should feel some big weight or release. A new decade. But the dread/relief never arrived; a new day dawned and I changed one number on official documents.

This is also the year that I realized one of my life long ambitions; I learned to run. I have always wanted to run and finally found the key to success this year. I ran my first race, a 5 km in support of a Boston Bombing victim at the old Fort Devens army base just North of Boston in July. I ran that race with some of my cousins and it was one of the proudest moments of my year to cross the finish line under a burning sun.

Later in the summer I completed the 5 mile road race in my home town, a race my father had run regularly in his younger years. He, along with my kids, were at the finish line to watch me complete my first 5 mile race in just over 50 minutes. It was a major achievement.

But that was not enough road work...I ran the annual 5 mile road race during the Canso Regatta; the next town down the shore from mine, too.

I have medals from the 5 mile races and my race numbers. Those races were the highlights of my year. None of it was easy.

What may seem like an odd thing to mention, but in truth was also a major triumph, was the installation of a heat pump in my house. This year for the first time since I moved home I am not worrying about how I will heat the house and keep food in it at the same time this winter. That peace of mind, as well as comfortable temperature in the house, is a major event in the history of this year.

This year had its trials—My father was sick with something of unknown origin for months. He has never fully recovered but he's home after several months in the hospital and keeps on keeping on, doing all his usual activities.

As far as I can remember I was only in the ER twice this year-- admitted once for a night. That is a pretty good year for me. And I was not sick over Christmas which had been a common occurrence in my mid to late 20s.

We have had difficulties with the girls dad; he dropped all communication after his visit in July and that has been a constant source of stress for me and the kids. Hard to see them hurt and angry and be helpless to do anything about it.

My aunt died and my grandmother died on the same day and I was torn between heading to the States for my family there or staying here for my dad. I went to the States as I thought that it always seems after the funeral, after all the visitors have left, is the hardest time, and I knew I would be here for my dad at that time.

Those are the main turning points in my year. Overall I felt there was more good than bad and you have to be content with any year that chalks up well on the pro side of the chart.

Missing piece of the anti-bullying puzzle

The news this week out of Sydney, NS is evidence that the anti-bullying strategies so far implemented by the province have failed. Not only did one girl bully another, a second person stood by and made a recording of the bullying.

The incident as reported in The Cape Breton Post on October 16, 2013.

“The teen...was charged with assault after an incident at a local school in which she sucker punched another female student and then kicked the victim several times while she lay on the floor.

Drake said an added element to the assault was the fact the accused asked a friend to video tape the scene which was then posted to Facebook and other social media sites.

Defence lawyer Cheryl Morrison said her client denied asking a friend to video the assault. Drake said the friend admitted to being asked by the accused to film the attack.

The video was played Wednesday in court and shows the accused standing in the hallway and then running towards another female student and punching her in the head. The punch knocked the girl to the floor and the accused then proceeded to kick the girl in the head, arms, legs and chest.”

What is missing from this article is the question: how could this happen in a school hallway with no one stepping in to stop the attack? The answer is the oft cited bystander affect-- people witness a crime but are unable or unwilling to help the victim. The bystander effect plays a large roll in the continued presence of bullying in our schools and our society. When good people do nothing, evil wins.

Of course one of the most commonly cited reasons for people not acting in defence of others is that they were afraid for their own safety or were so stunned by what they were witnessing that they were unable to act.

The approaches to reduce bullying in the province, that I have seen to date, have failed to address this key piece in the anti-bullying puzzle.

Bullying is a cultural emergency. Why is it not dealt with in the same manner as we deal with other emergencies? Where are the anti-bullying drills, the anti-bullying protection classes and the mock bullying roll plays that have proved so useful in saving society from fire, medical emergencies and criminal elements that use physical violence against us?

Learning by doing, not just reading or watching films, helps people react in a real crisis situation. When a person is faced with a dangerous or fearful situation they must fall back on pre-learned behaviour, like a muscle memory, so they can operate. Unprepared, the automatic response to danger is to freeze or run away. If we want children and adults to stand up to bullies we need to do more than read books about how to do the right thing; we need to offer hands on practice.

Asking a bystander to stand up to a bully in action is like asking a man on the street to disarm a bomb. Without the confidence of training, the bystander is not able to take on the job even when they know action is required. Teaching through roll play, how to take control of a situation and how to feel confident enough to do so, will help decrease the bystander effect.

In the 1960s the Freedom Riders took on racism in the southern United States. They did not walk into a mob unprepared, but they did not bring weapons either. They practiced nonviolent responses to an overtly violent situation; they didn't just read books or watch films about Rosa Parks. They had to learn physically the lessons they already knew in their minds; racism was wrong and these were the actions that would help them defeat that evil.

Below are notes from a nonviolent training session held in 1963 for Freedom Riders heading south (http://www.crmvet.org/info/nv1.htm).

3. Purpose of nonviolence training: This session to simulate common situations and practice techniques & tactics for dealing with them. Familiarization. Remove fear of unknown & not knowing what to do. Increase understanding of dynamics of violence through direct experience. Develop generalized response patterns/habits. Instinctive reactions.

4. Format of: Direct action: Plan, —>Act, —>Critique. This training session similar pattern: Discussion, —>Role Play, —>Critique.

These notes are useful today in the struggle to stop bullying by reducing the bystander effect. I propose anti-bullying role play experiences be adopted into the curriculum. Only through hands on experience will our children have the tools to stand up to bullies.