Notes #56

The movie showed two boys; perhaps they are 12 and 11. The summer holidays had just begun.  The "voice over" talked in the past tense about how that was the summer that changed their lives; about how that summer's experience and the feelings they felt-love, fear, guilt and the intensity of a death--bounced them into a journey toward adulthood. It was the summer of their "coming of age".

This past summer was my "coming of age" in a most real sense. I had decided to experiment with ... (I just had a brain freeze), oh yeah-- "retiring". I told the fine people at Blue Cross I needed to take the summer off from my counselling/therapy duties. I was 79 and had never not worked since I was 13 years old and wasn't sure I could handle the lack of structure. It was an experiment and I was about to find out what having no work responsibility felt like. My summer journey, unlike the above boys' summer, was much less exciting but perhaps just as scary. My journey was to old age and perhaps retirement; first time I'd been there, and I was apprehensive. No. I was apprehensively scared.

The day before my official/unofficial date of retirement I decided to start this new era (hopefully) of my life off on the right foot. By that I mean doing something fun. We went to the beach. My wife and I packed the grandkids and a picnic lunch and headed off to Grand Beach. It was a Monday and we hoped the beach would be quiet--COVID. Summer had begun and so had my new life.

Grand Beach held many fond memories for me as a young man. I remember taking the day-train down to the beach and spending the day in the sun, parties at people's cabins, sleeping in the dunes (ok only once-I missed the late train back to the city) Freedom! However, on this day with my wife of 54 years and two grandchildren in tow, we set off by car and a little over an hour later we pulled into parking lot #3. We had barely exited the car when we realized something was wrong-- RCMP, ambulance and people directing us away from the change rooms. Apparently someone had a heart attack and the body was still there. We had to detour around the roped off scene but eventually found a trail over the dunes and to the beach.

The beach had a few people on it but of those there, they were ample - if you get my drift. For the first time in a year and a half I felt a sense of normalcy. We had our masks with us but the spacing of people was such that we felt safe. We chose our spot and set up with grandma taking charge of organizing our space. The kids and I ran to test the temperature of the water. According to the kids the water was "Fine". Nope, it was absolutely frigid.

There were so many shells on the beach that we had to cross to get to the water that we had to search for openings so we wouldn't hurt our tender tootsies. Once we got in the water and got over that initial shock, the lake experience became refreshing. Sunny, cloudy, sunny, the kids darting in and out like little fishes, splashing and playing made up games, and laughing all the while.

We ate our ham and cheese sandwiches on the beach (now I know why they are called sand--wiches) with ample chips, fruit, veggies and juice. Then back into the water. One of the reasons I like Grand Beach is because it is so shallow, you can go out 50-100 yards and it still won't be above your waist-- really safe for the kids.

After we changed into dry clothes, (the change room was now available), we walked down the beach and over to the most reasonable ice cream shop I had been to in many a year (four soft ice cream cones for $8). On our way back to our spot on the beach our grandkids began to explore the huge sand dunes. We tried our best to keep them in sight from the boardwalk but eventually we joined them in the dunes. They found a spot, which was kind of a bowl, and they described it as a "peaceful" spot. On one hill they discovered a worn sand slide where they could (what else) slide down on their backsides laughing and squealing all the way down. After two or three climbs back up the steep hill we joked about needing an elevator to get back to the top of the hill.

The ride home was quiet, unpack, a quick pizza for a late supper, and then the drive back to their home for two sleepy individuals.

This day, the day before my first formal day of retirement, felt full and quite rewarding. In the future, if all days could feel like this I could ace this retirement thing. That night I slept soundly until about 4:30 AM when I woke up and felt a great need to "Plan" my first actual day of retirement.

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In Manitoba, 90% of the kids in the child welfare system (doubled in the last 10 years), 75% of the men in Stony Mountain institution, and more than two thirds of the homeless population are indigenous.
       As a society, we have a great deal of work to do!
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You know what I would like? I would really like to know who gets the "Notes" blog, and then, I would really like to know who wants to continue getting the "Notes" blog.

Last year I was receiving somewhere between 100-150 new subscription email requests a day, driven by some unknown computer engine. I knew they were not legitimate subscriptions (I previously  received 1 or 2 a week) and so for several weeks I tried without success to stop this influx of subscriptions. I had to resort to some complex screening procedures (thanks Jeff) and finally got the barrage of illegitimate emails to stop. Presently, I have a couple of thousand subscribers on my "Notes" email list, of which most/many/some are not legitimate subscribers.

As a result, I would like to bring my mailing list a little bit more in line with the reality of who is actually reading the blog. So, I would appreciate it greatly if you legitimate "Notes" readers would let me know if you wish to continue receiving "Notes" in the future.

   Yes, please continue sending the notes blog!   danrosin@drcounselling.com

Thanks,

Dan