Posted on December 31, 2015 under Faces in the Crowd with one comment

It didn’t take long for this Syrian refugee to complete his first hat trick.

Meet Tareq Hudhud.

Yes, he scored three goals in his very first street hockey game on Boxing Day but more importantly he has a new country, a new province and calls himself an “Antigonisher.” That’s a hat trick that thrills Tareq.

But he has other goals besides filling the net. He wants to help his family become acclimatized to Antigonish. He wants to continue his studies to become a doctor. And he wants to become involved as a volunteer in our community.

Oh yes, he also wants to be able to feed himself so that means cooking for the very first time. His fried eggs were a big hit even though his mother back in Lebanon thought she could smell something burning as he consulted with her.

Ciad mile failte.

 

Posted on December 28, 2015 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

December 25/December 27

 

 

Apologies to my long suffering readers. You have heard this lament, many times before. But what the hell, it’s Christmas and anything goes.

Yesterday, the warmth of Christmas was washing over me as I stood in the lineup at Sobey’s in an effort to re-stock the fridge. And it wasn’t any lineup. It was the short lineup. The “quick checkout” was inexplicably closed but they had two other checkouts operational. The store wasn’t very busy early in the morning. But it was busy enough that there were people amassing at the two checkouts. One lineup was considerably longer than the other. Why, of why do I always fall for this ploy?

There was only one person ahead of me and she had a two year old ( I’m a grandfather and can identify 2 years old quickly and easily ). The two year old may have been suffering a Christmas hangover because she was, shall we say, a bit whiny and cranky. No worries. There was nothing left on the conveyor belt and the mother of the child had her purse at the ready. I secretly grinned at the poor saps in the long lineup.

Rendering the payment for the groceries is normally a straight ahead affair… unless you have left your credit cards in the car. The purchases had already been wrung in so no other customer could be served until this impasse was resolved. “Oh, my credit cards are in the car.” . Now, the poor mother, in all fairness,  had probably only slept 3 hours in the past four days so I’m not singling her out personally.  Scraping fingernails down an old slate chalk board could not have grated on my nerves any worse.

Mother and child casually (!) left the store to retrieve the cards. And I stood and waited…and waited… and waited. Now of course, the other lineup had become a mere trickle and for a moment ( a moment of sheer utter insanity ), I thought about changing lineups, but, having been down that road before, I bit my lip and endured the last of the agony. When the customer pondered whether or not she wanted the “Jamie Oliver stamps”, I was thinking very bad thoughts.

Just another precious shopping story.

So, what was the highlight of your Christmas? Did you test the outer reaches of the glycemic index?

For many of us, getting to meet and share time with our first Syrian refugee, Tareq Hudhud, was the high point of the holidays. We invited him over for his first taste of a street hockey game followed by large doses of scrumptious holiday treats ( thanks KMD ), a singsong and his first glimpse of hockey on a large screen TV. It is unfortunate that his new home country lost the contest. Tareq is a bright, very well educated guy and hopes to be practicing medicine in the not too distant future.

The most poignant part of the afternoon was the last half hour when he explained in gut wrenching detail, the horrors that he and his family have lived over the past four years. His story will be well documented so I’ll forego the details in this space. None of us can possibly fathom what the Syrians ( and millions of other people from other war torn countries ) are going through. He expressed deep gratitude at the welcome he received at the airport from representatives of SAFE and how Antigonishers have treated him since he got here.

Let us continue to embrace our new neighbors as more of them arrive in the weeks and months ahead.

“Faces in the Crowd” will continue this Thursday.

Have a great week.

Posted on December 22, 2015 under Storytelling with one comment

Lennie x 2

Dave Brosha Photo

 

 

“What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store.

What if Christmas … perhaps … means a little bit more!”

Dr. Seuss – How the Grinch Stole Christmas

Finding the perfect gift for Christmas is challenging at the best of times, even when shopping is your thing. So you can only imagine the magnitude of the task if you are a known “non-shopper”.   Nothing in this world is impossible, but a man buying a Christmas gift for his wife is climbing the Everest of shopping.  Few dare to go there … and never without guidance from a Sherpa!

Early on in our marriage I tried my hand at buying gifts for my wife but I quickly discovered that I lacked good taste and sound judgement. Some men are extremely brave and will surprise a spouse on Christmas morning.  I was told that not all surprises are good.

So, once the toy phase was over, we evolved into a family that isn’t particularly “gifty”. That is to say, not in the usual sense of the word.  For reasons that most families face, we found that our priorities and resources weren’t always in synch.  The season of giving became a year round effort to use our own gifts – music, art, writing, humour, and advocacy – whenever and however we could.  Christmas was, and still is, a time to slow down and spend time with family and friends.  We wrap modest presents for the youngsters and the elders in the family.  Beyond that, our offerings are not always tangible and can show up anytime!

So even though I long ago gave up even thinking about buying a Christmas gift for the missus, there is always a smidgen of guilt every year.   Except the time I hit the jackpot.  Back in the 90’s, Lennie Gallant wrote a song called “Peter’s Dream”. And even though he had written many splendid songs prior to this (and since!), this one quickly became my wife’s favorite song of all time.

One night, after consuming a rum and eggnog, I came up with the idea to have the kids learn this song and perform it for Betty on Christmas morning. You all know how hard it is for young children to keep something secret.  Combine this with finding the time to practice when she wasn’t in the house made the task extra difficult.  Slowly everything came together and Christmas morning arrived.

The kids were up early (very early!). We had decided that they would perform the song before opening their presents.  Before Betty had a chance to even peek out from under the covers, there they were, lined up at the end of the bed.  They sang beautifully in three part harmony and when it was over, she claimed that it was the best present ever.  Even better than the spatulas and wooden spoons that I had given to her on our very first Joyous Noel.

I recently bumped into Lennie at a restaurant in Charlottetown and relayed this story to him. He was visibly touched.  Little did he know that he was the best gift my wife had ever received.

Sometimes the best gifts are the ones that touch the heart … but not the wallet!