Greetings from the Great White North

It's interesting reading old letters you have posted...especially one you posted 25 years ago as a Christmas message to our left-behind friends in Mexico. I have edited some parts namely the descriptions and involvements of our lives now that we were back in Canada.  But it is mostly intact. It is a brief picture of our assimilation back into Canadian culture after an absence of a year.

“After a solid month of abnormally low temperature (read -30'sC) where going outside became a real chore and a challenge, it has really struck home how much we enjoyed and miss the tropical weather of Guadalajara.  There has been much moaning and groaning about the weather.  Often when Patti disappears for an hour or so, I am tempted to check the airport knowing that she would be Mexico bound in an hour's notice. Oh, how she misses Mexico!

This past June (1990) was a hectic month for the family --- packing, bidding tearful farewells to friends we made in Mexico, and taking one last trip to Guanajuato, a beautiful city with warm friendly people in the interior of Mexico.

It took 2 combis (modified Volkswagen mini buses) to get the 4 of us plus our 10 hockey bags, 2 large boxes which almost herniated the Sky Caps at the airport, 4 carry-on bags, 4 carry-on boxes, and 2 sombreros (giant size)!  We were boarding a direct flight for Chicago and I think our luggage outweighed the luggage of the other 90+ passengers, most of whom were Mexicans returning to Chicago after a short visit to their homeland. The majority only had on carry-on bags. We knew we were going to have to pay mega-U.S. dollars for being so much over our weight allowance! However in the ten minutes it took to process our tickets and luggage, Nathan and David, two blond kids with their fluent (for gringos) grasp of Spanish, won over the heart of the agent. When it came time for us to pay the approximate $300 U.S. dollars (1990 values), the agent declared "Gratis" on behalf of Mexicana and told us he was glad we had enjoyed his beloved city of Guadalajara so much and for us to come back soon! What a wonderful gesture!

When we arrived in Chicago we had to get a trolley wagon and a Sky Cap to get us from the Mexicana terminus where we had gone through American customs, to the Air Canada terminus, a distance of about a kilometre. No Sky Trains, no baggage x-rays, no patting down, just a welcome and be on your way for the next leg of our journey home.

We had an 8 hour layover. After the boys had filled up at the water fountains countless times- it was cold, pure, and right out of the tap, something not possible in 1990 Guadalajara - they started talking to the Air Canada agent. Nathan assisted the agent by translating for her and some Mexicans who were Montreal bound. This helpful act again benefited us when it came time for us to check in with all our over-weight baggage.  The agent in appreciation for Nathan's help, she waived one-half of our surcharge fee.

Our first night home was a mixture of feelings. It was good to be home with family and friends. Our one member of the family who couldn't come with us to Mexico, Boots, our black part poodle - part spaniel, was beside herself with joy at our return. I still carry the picture of her in my mind when we are leaving for Mexico of where she had her nose poked through the crack in the gate and crying because she knew she wasn't going on this trip with us! It must have been a long year for her!

That first night at around 10 p.m. I walked to the service station on Henderson Highway for a Winnipeg Free Press. It was so strange, so quiet! I thought the city was deserted. There was almost no traffic and there were no people on the streets. Gone were the familiar noises of non-mufflered VW Bugs, boom boxes blaring lively music, animated conversations in the streets amongst small groups of Mexicans. Gone were the corner taco stands with their little knots of people eating and visiting in the soft yellow light of the street lamps. No dogs barked at me. No laughing children rushed by me playing their games of tag, hide-and-seek, and soccer. It took many week to get used to these sounds of silence!”

I ended our letter with: “We have settled into what seems a frenetic life-style, often thinking wistfully of our slower-paced year in Mexico. It would appear that now that we have tasted the delights of another country and its culture, we will soon be thinking of going on the road again.”

Sad to say that didn't happen. But Patti and I were fortunate enough to experience the delights of new cultures through our work in the International Program in our school division. I know our year out of country made it easier for us to feel empathy with our foreign students and to help them acclimatize to our Canadian culture for the short times they were here!

The gift of Age

The Gift of Age

Lately I have been watching runners, serious walkers, cyclists, and strollers pass by on our street doing what I used to do as recently as a decade ago. I look at them with a touch of envy. Except for cycling, I can no longer do what they are doing so casually, and usually, gracefully. I look at them with a shadow of pain, because I have parted with something, an ease of physical achievement. And perhaps of spirit which I then possessed.

So what do I have in its place?  What strengths and positives remain? There must be some gains that make up for the loss of youth. Because I have paid last respects to so many family and friends, some of them taken way too early, I know that growing older is a gift. I also know that growing older brings aches and pains and other miseries. But gains there are that make up for that loss of youth.

I no longer feel the self-consciousness that caused me such excruciating pain when I was young. How many times did I feel humiliated that I had nothing to say, or worse still, said the wrong thing when I wanted to make an impression.

That is gone now. I no longer need to be impressive. Having rid myself of this need, I find myself more at ease even though I am an introvert who can pass as an extrovert at times. I find other people more interesting. I start conversations with strangers because I am interested in them, and with my friends, not with the desire of impressing but being glad enough to be tolerated. I now often dare to say what I really think and I realize that my point of view is one of many and that I should be prepared to revise it. I no longer demand agreement. Often I can admit that I know nothing of a subject.

With age the pressure of convention decreases. Gradually I have discovered that people trouble themselves very little about what one did. I now find that I can decline invitations to many events that I have little or no interest in because I know they will bore me.

As well, I find that I am no longer as judgmental as I once was. Well, less judgmental. It used to be that if I didn't find a person's manner pleasing, or I didn't like the fashion of his/her clothes, I would set the person down in my mind. I now know these are superficial things and that there can be a kind heart and an interesting personality that can belie the outside appearance. In fact I now find that people with oddities whom I might have given short shrift to in my earlier years, now form an interesting variety. Now when I find a person’s manner unattractive, I usually find that it is often nothing more than shyness which often disappears when I make the effort to get to know the person.

When I was young, I had sharper feelings, keener perceptions, and more passionate thrills and feelings. At the same time I was more prone to swifter discouragement and despair and times when life was almost too difficult to take on. Now life is not so breath-taking but it is more interesting. When I was young I searched for the impressive beautiful things, things that would stir and move me. Now as I grow older I recognize a simpler kind of beauty. Just looking out at our backyard, I can watch the changing seasons and I see the beauty of the rich colors of summer, the browns and yellows of spring and fall, and the changing white beauty of winter. I watch the activities of the many birds, flying insects, and the small animals, I see so much beauty. I grow to demand less of nature, of the world, of people, and the result is a whole new range of kinder, gentler emotions.

I also have managed in my aging to acquire more patience. In youth I was subject to feelings that mistakes were unchangeable, the disappointments of life were intolerable, and the calamities of life almost unbearable. I now find that mistakes are repairable, that calamities sometimes have a compensating joy, and that disappointments offer us incentives to try again.

Once many of the sorrows in life were in the imagination as were the anticipation of calamities. Now I have the power and the background to recall the good days that have been and to simply anticipate and enjoy each day. I wake up in the morning and realize I have the whole day to do or experience life as it is. The days are numbered and I am closer to the end than I am to my beginning, and even with the decay of aging setting in, I enjoy each day with a great peace and a sense of wonder and anticipation.

Carpe Diem!