Neil Crone - Enter Laughing

Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of...liquefied propane?

Wow.  Another ship taken hostage by Somali pirates.  This one a German tanker loaded with liquefied petroleum gas.  That makes fifteen attacks this year and three ships seized.  Believe it or not there's something in the nature of 160 crew and nine ships still being held off the coast of Somalia.  That country is like Club Med for miscreants.  I'm still trying to get my head around how a handful of guys in a skiff manage to take down giant tankers. You have to kind of admire the cojones on these guys.  I mean, it's not like you can sneak up on these things... and they're made of iron.  Plus they're huge.  You can't just pull alongside and board with your knife in your teeth like the good old days. Sure they're slow and the little Pirate boats can easily outrun them but then what? What do these Pirate guys do to get a ship to let them board?
I guess nobody likes having somebody shoot automatic weapons at them and what, really, do these crews care?  I guess it's no skin off their salty noses if a couple of million barrels of crude go missing.  Might be a different story if these tankers were crewed by CEO's, Stock traders and investors though.  Those guys would fight to the last armani-clad man. You don't want to get between a commodity broker and his profit.

Ski Resort going downhill?

You like me!  You really, really like me!  ...Okay, it's time for my medication.  Thanks, everybody, for reading.  And a special thanks to Daniel for stirring the pot.  If we were all on the same page life would be pretty boring.   Now then, here's a little something maybe we can all agree on.  I took an rrsp out today and sent my two boys for a day of snowboarding at Lakeridge Resort.  Anybody who has kids who ski or ride knows that it's never a cheap venture. But, we bite the financial bullet to get them out of the house, fill their lungs with clean air, and give them a lifeskill or two to take into adulthood that doesn't involve a mouse or a game controller.  I like Lakeridge.  My children learned to ski and snowboard there and I've generally been very happy with the whole set up.  Today though somebody really blew it.  When they came home I found out that not only was a portion of the ski hill fenced off and only one lift operating but the cafeteria was not open all day.  Part of that rrsp money was sent along to feed the kids.  Get a burger and fries or a bowl of chili and a coke.  As a result of the kitchen closure their menu consisted in whatever the vending machines could provide.  Chocolate bars and chips.  Not good. 
I understand these places have enormous overheads and God knows I can't think of a more iffy proposition than running a ski resort in southern Ontario, but if you really want to be out of business fast keep charging full fees for half your services.  That's not terribly ethical and it will, eventually, bite you in the ass. Besides, how difficult would it have been to offer a discounted lift ticket in this case.  That's called good will and it's always good business.

But is it art?

 Wow...things got hot in here all of a sudden.  Yikes,  Rhetoric, vitriol, passion.  Even, differing opinions!  Keep it coming folks.  I'm always glad to hear whatever you have to say.  Feedback makes the world go 'round.  Besides, the day I no longer have people checking in on this blog is the day I stop writing it.  The internet is a remarkable thing and a very odd thing.  Blogs especially.  It's like writing in a diary and not only not locking it, but posting it on a billboard.  Writers and actors, all artists, have long understood that our work is very different from any others.  No one would think it at all permissible for a complete stranger to walk into a business office and critique someone's work. That would be the height of rudeness. But, if we invite the public to look at our work, to read our words, contemplate our art...then we must be prepared to hear back from that public.  The good, the bad and the ugly.  Yes I take it personally when someone doesn't care for what I do or write, I don't know how to avoid that when I've put so much of 'me' into it.  But I also take it personally and very joyfully when they love it. And that's what keeps you at it.  Thanks again to you all for showing up.

Can I get an amen?

This morning I was invited to speak at the Westminster United Church in Whitby.  I do a lot of public speaking but rarely have I enjoyed an interaction with an audience like this one. There was definitely some spiritual magic happening in that church this morning.  Not sure whether it was the glorious choir, the simple beauty of a gorgeous baby girl's baptism or just the genuine warmth with which I was greeted and taken care of, but I came away feeling sky high.  It was like skinny dipping in a pool of joy.  One of those moments when you feel like you're doing exactly what you are supposed to be doing. And the people you're speaking to are on exactly the same wavelength.  Can I get an amen?
Anyway, thanks to Reverend Chris, the members of the Health board and the whole congregation.  It was glorious.

Remembering promises made.

An absolutely gorgeous morning.  The mercury plunging off the chart and the sun filling the sky.  Perfect for snowshoeing.  I had a good long trek through some brand new powder.  My heart was tripping like a jack-hammer, lungs filled with crystal clear, cold air, legs aching pleasantly.  I had a moment, as I entered into a church-quiet, sun-filled glade in the middle of a cedar forest, when I remembered very well, promises made to a chemo-riddled body some four years ago. I had told myself to hold on.  This would one day be over and I would once again feel my heart race, legs ache with pleasant fatigue, and lungs fill with cold, icy air.  I would be able to use my healthy body again.  No more tubes, no more needles, no more fear. And I can.  That moment felt pretty good I can tell you.  It's been a weird week, lots of emotional ups and downs, loads of negativity to wade through.  A tough one to get some perspective on and hang onto what makes me feel good.  But there it was today, this morning, right smack dab and crystal clear in the middle of the clearing.  Thanks.

As if...

In regard to the story in todays Durham Region.com  and many local papers  detailing the acquittal of two local men, both members of the Hells Angels and Nomads Bike clubs, especially in regard to the quote 'We're bikers, not criminals' I have only one thing to say...WHAT ARE YOU?  NEW?  You may find this hard to believe fellas, but the rest of us are not morons.  The criminal activities of the Hells Angels are well known and thoroughly documented.  Ask any cop.  If you just want to be a bike 'enthusiast', fantastic...knock yourself out.  There are loads of legit clubs to join where the closest you may come to meeting a criminal is a lawyer or a car salesman.  Hells Angels is not one of them.  Regardless of the outcome of this current trial, by associating with the  Angels, as far as I am concerned, you are guilty by association.  These are not boyscouts folks.  These are people involved in serious, big money, crime.  This shouldn't be news to anyone on the planet over the age of 18.  Both of these men are obviously at liberty to associate with whomever they please, and to wear whatever colours they want.  It's a free country.  But you can't wear the patch and expect the rest of us to treat you like it's just the Lions Club or something.  We're not criminals...as if.

A new era.

I just finished watching President Obama's Inauguration ceremony.  Mind blowing.  Over two million people lining every square foot from the Capitol building to the Lincoln Memorial.  Two million! FDR got 120,000 and they thought that was a huge deal.  You want to talk about a groundswell of hope?  Of passion? Of belief in change?  This was history, no doubt.  But it was so much more. This was the beginning of a whole new direction, perhaps a whole new era.  I also thought the American people gathered there showed admirable restraint and class in not boo-ing outgoing President Bush right off the podium.  I would've loved to have been a fly on the wall of that chopper taking the whole Bush clan (including George Sr.) back to Texas.
"Whoo-wee! I just love flying in these whirly-gigs!"
"Say, pass me some of them goobers would 'ya?"
"Well, that Obama fellers welcome to it. That job's nothing but one flustration after another".

Here's to the new administration.

A little Monday morning baby magic...

Okay, I've seen this before on television but a good friend sent this along to me this morning and I can't think of a better way to start off your Monday morning.  If this doesn't make you feel good, you're dead.
Enjoy...

Snow and Coke Floats

One of the good things about selling your house, or trying to sell your house, is that it forces you to spend time together.  We all had to beat it this morning as some strangers were shown our home for a possible sale.  So, as it was snowing gloriously outside, we all bundled up and went for a walk through a nearby field and forest.  It was wonderful. And exhausting.  We didn't bring the snowshoes along and were slogging through knee-deep powder on uneven terrain.  Very soon we were all huffing and puffing.  When we entered a dense  forest of mature cedars it was magical.  So quiet and everything frosted with white.  We discovered that by standing in a group around the base of a narrow trunked tree we could shake it and for the next five to ten seconds be so completely engulfed in a shower of powdery snow that we couldn't see the person next to us.  Simpletons that we are, we did this for the next half hour or so as we trudged through the forest.  And every time it would make all of us laugh our heads off.  Sort of the same kind of feeling you get when you stick your head out the car window at a hundred kilometers an hour.  But much prettier. When we were sure that the visitors had left we headed home, drenched in sweat and legs pleasantly aching.  I had a  huge craving for a coke float.  And so  we made them, for everybody.  You can do that and not feel the least bit guilty when you've been out playing.

Moving at light speed, finally.

It caught me again, this morning, as I was sitting by the woodstove, enjoying my morning cappuccino and reading the paper.  A black man is about to ascend to the Presidency of the United States.  Ostensibly the most powerful position on the planet. Think about that for just a moment. The Civil War was being fought a little over one hundred and forty years ago.  Black men and women were still working in bondage long after that and Rosa Parks was bravely sitting at the front of a bus a mere 54 years ago.  Barack Obama's election to President seems like things are moving, finally, at light speed.  It takes my breath away, for all the right reasons.  I will be glued to my computer on Tuesday as he is sworn in. I can remember only a handful of moments in my lifetime so historic that our worlds seem to stand still...or that we at least stood still for them.  The moon landing in 1969.  The Canada-Russia hockey final in 1972 and, sadly, the morning of 9/11.  I've heard many, many, usually sour-faced, people already nay-saying Obamas' term and his ability to make good on his promises of hope. People actually waiting for him to stumble. I don't understand that. Hope is a commodity that has become extremely dear in the last decade.  And I believe, most fervently, that beyond fiscal restraint, restructuring, economic stimulus packages and the like,  it is the one thing that can ever really make a difference.