The love of one's country is a splendid thing. But why should love stop at the border? Pablo Casals
Yesterday I flew from Denver to Toronto, Canada, the place of my birth for a family reunion. My flight was delayed before we were able to board. After boarding we had mechanical difficulties which caused us to sit for an hour and a half in the blazing sun, stifling onboard our aircraft without air conditioning.
The high temperatures affected each of us differently. In difficult situations, I like to make light of them. Seated with a group of Burlington firefighters, a mechanic, an IT guy, all from BFD (Not Big Fu**ing Deal, but Burlington Fire Department) we made light of our ordeal and discomfort enjoying each other's company. I was reminded of my roots and the camaraderie of being with fellow countrymen.
Memories of learning how to swim, water ski and sailing a boat by myself began to stir from deep within. My father has been gone now for twenty-six years, a very long time. I still remember how he taught me how to swim in Lake of Bays, backing up away from me, while I shrieked, encouraging me to keep swimming. That never giving up attitude and to keep swimming continues to serve me today.
Our family of origin take us back to our roots and remind us of how far we have come. Celebrate your successes. Enjoy the ride, however, bumpy it may be. It is up to us to make good choices, react, or witness. I could complain about my mother or enjoy her company. I choose the latter.
session to see if her work is a good fit for your happiness.