Stepping Up: A Hallmark Market

Considering the plight of the nuclear family, the rate of divorce and the number of co-parenting families that exist, one might think Hallmark could come up with a slightly less glamorous and tidy greeting card season to celebrate the step moms and dads of the world.

I must first establish a few facts. The first being, that children are a delight. And even at their most challenging moments there is something that adults, parents and guardians can always learn from them. Children make us sit up straighter at the dinner table and watch our language. Children get us out skiing on the freezing cold day we'd normally chose to stay home. They get us to drink hot chocolate, eat ice cream and stop to pet other people’s animals when we might have passed by in an unseeing, uncaring rush. Children get us to try harder, get outside when we may have stayed inside, to play games, giggle and act generally silly when we might have gone through a day or a meal or an afternoon in an daze, hardly present of the moments. They get us to dig deeper, try harder, smile when we'd rather get angry and make our own beds so that they will make theirs without complaining.

I know these things because I am a step mom. And there are other things that I know as a step mom. I know what kind of toothpaste to buy, how he likes his scrambled eggs, his favourite shade of green, how much bikes cost and what goes in an 11 year olds backpack for a sleep over. I know that he doesn't like pears, that he does like ice cream, that summer camp will cost $500 for one week, that Star Wars Lego rocks and scratch lottery tickets rule. I know chocolate cake; bowling and Yahtzee all excite him profusely. I know that he thinks his Dad is the funniest guy on the planet and when he starts pinching at his eyelids he's ready for bed.

I know these things and so many more because I am there for him. I buy his groceries and his hockey skates; I wash his bedding and his underwear. I do all the things a mom does, but I receive a fraction of the accolades, love and appreciation. And that's ok. He's an 11-year-old boy with a great relationship with his mom and his dad and that's where the bulk of his attention is channeled. We hug and tell each other we love each other all the time. It’s just different. So on mother’s day and father’s day when parents all over the land are basking in the glory of the fruit of their loins, I’m sending a shout out to the stepparents. You’re loved and appreciated and have more of an influence than you realize. And while you are fortunate to have these precious beings as part of your life, they are equally fortunate to have you.

Someone should really call Hallmark and let them know about this untapped market.

Testing Evolution: A Junior Gardeners Inquiry

I'm no green thumb. But the last 15 years I have learned a few tips and tricks from veteran gardeners. That said, the extent of my horticultural expertise ranges little farther than mixing in a little organic compost and fertilizer. Following that my job is done, save for keeping the weeds at bay. When I commit a plant into the ground I do so with blind faith that the plant possesses the will to survive. There's comfort in the fact that everything I've planted endured the first time I got my hands on them, so why not the second?

After five summers of thoughtfully tending and nurturing my gardens, they have finally come into their own. Gone are the bare patches that every season I cover with more plants. For the very first time, all things green and leafy are green and leafy. Flowers bloom and look like they did on the package in which I bought them. Sipping coffee, standing barefoot in the dewy grass I fondly recall the day I ripped up the first bit of sod to create my little piece of paradise. All this as I strategically set out to disassemble my work, perennial by perennial.

We're moving and as much as I hate to disturb the sacred space I've created with my own hands and the cooperation of some sun and rain, I can't bare to leave my plants behind. It feels wrong after all the time we've spent together and the attention I've given them, reciprocated by the joy they've given me through surviving and even blooming.

As I dig, a scene of devastation ensues. I rake and hoe dirt back and forth to fill the gaping holes left behind as I exhume rudbeckia and roses, lavender and lilies. The garden massacre has begun. They wilt in their new pots, stressed by the sun. I pace back and forth giving them water and wondering what else I can do after unceremoniously ripping them from the comfort of the only home they've ever known. I find solace that they've endured this long, passing round one of Darwin's survival of the fittest. I reflect on this time held theory and conclude that this experiment in excavation will be my own scientific inquiry into proving or disproving evolution. Survival of the species, at least in my garden, is between Darwin and Mother Nature.

Indie film fresh from the Koots

There’s nothing Nelson folks enjoy more than an evening out on the town for a little culture and entertainment. If it’s a home‐grown effort, that’s even better. So when the Creston‐made indie flick Lovers In A Dangerous Time premiered at the Capitol Theatre, crowds came out in force. As the lights dimmed, the expectant crowd waited anxious yet optimistic for the evening’s sacrificial lamb. No one anticipated being so deeply affected by such an innocent Kootenay endeavour.

This film tears away little pieces of your heart while making you blush and laugh out loud. It captures the pure essence of what it is to have dreamed, and to have loved, and to have lost. Beautifully filmed amid the orchards of the Creston Valley with the backdrop of Kootenay Lake, Mark Hug and May Charters have captured an authentic story, genuine characters and true to it’s billing, a date movie for everyone.

Lovers is about Todd, a local could‐have‐been who has stayed behind on the family farm while his brother established a successful career in the NHL. Allison, his childhood friend, returns for a high school reunion as a successful illustrator of children's books, wondering what might‐have‐been.

Life is a little messy and love and relationships are difficult and awkward. Beautiful moments are created in such times, things to be cherished and wistfully recalled. This film is built on those moments. Todd’s complex relationship with his brother comes to a head during a campfire game of truth or dare, while romance is awakened when Todd treats Allison to an old‐fashion, down home, Canadian bush party. Scenes unfold beneath the cherry orchards and Todd’s struggle with his own sense of lacking, break your heart while they fill you with hope.

Lovers In A Dangerous Time has blown Kootenay film making wide open for the big screen. This move is just too good to miss. Even if you ain’t from around here.

For information on tour dates and screenings, and to view the trailer, check out www.inadangeroustime.com.

bowing to failure

Success. Be successful at what you do. The secret to success is. The measure of success. Life is so focused on success and being successful that we forget the lessons learned in failing. If we fail an attempt at anything, we strive harder to succeed. It’s what our society has ingrained in us. What we are taught at school. It is certainly what my parents imparted on me growing up.

Hardly anyone says, go ahead and fail. Don’t worry about the outcome. Try and fail and feel good that you tried. Feel good that you failed. I’m certain I’ve never heard that phrase used as an encouragement or as a support. What about failure as a tool of success? Or rather, what about failure just on it’s own. Not as a measurement of how well or poorly one is doing but rather as a thing that just is.

Grace through failure. Acceptance. An awakening to the way you’re going about things just isn’t working. Stop. Listen. Learn. What are your failures telling you? Last year I spent 6 months on a walk through the land of failure. This is in particular reference to attaining meaningful employment and securing a paycheck. I applied over and over again for jobs I saw posted on the Internet, on job boards and in the paper. Not only did I not get a job, I didn’t get so much as an interview. Me! Who tries and succeeds at pretty much everything I turn my hand to.

I was astonished. I decided that my resume and cover letter needed work. I took workshops on how to write a cover letter and resume that would get attention. I took workshops in how to find work. I rewrote what I had written and I applied for more jobs; jobs that I was certain I was qualified for. Jobs that I knew if I got an interview they would surely hire me on the spot. Again and again I met with failure. I got discouraged. I shook it off. I tried again. Again, success eluded me. I was trying so hard. I was doing what you’re supposed to do, yet I couldn’t seem to get a break. I was sounding like a broken record to my friends. The bright shiny armor of my self-esteem began to tarnish and fade and I began to fade along with it.

I began doing less. It seemed wrong but I was running out of options. I was running out of inspiration. In general comparison to the speed and forward momentum of the working world, I was moving at a snails pace. I began to feel the effects of failure. I got discouraged. I lacked direction. I couldn’t make anything happen and as I watched my bank account diminish, I watched my bills add up. One day, as I looked over the edge of the pit of despair into a dark abyss, I made the conscious decision that I did not want to go down the road of self-pity, but I knew not what to do. And there on the side of a mountain on a winter walk with my faithful K9 companion Angus, I gave up. I relinquished control. I conceded failure. If just for that moment I admitted to myself and to the universe that I really have no idea what to do.

In that single moment I experienced relief like I have seldom known. There was relief from having to try so hard. Relief from not knowing what to do and to not keep blindly charging ahead like I did know what to do, or that I should know what to do. It became clear to me that the way I was going about things no matter how sincerely, or desperate or diligent, my technique just wasn’t working. I bowed to failure.

There is such calm that comes with acceptance, which is tied so closely with failure that it’s hard to separate the two in some cases. The alternative was beating my head against a brick wall, and all I was succeeding at was giving myself a headache. Acceptance of failure gave me a sense of freedom that I hadn’t experienced in some time. It renewed a fresh place inside of me that seemed to quietly fill with hope. But the greatest sense it gave me was one of relief. I could stop worrying for a while. I could stop thinking about it for a while. There was nothing I could do, so I could in fact do nothing about it.

I had coffee with my good friend Lou and her husband Joel a few mornings later. We talked about my predicament and they were very empathetic. They too had struggled in a similar fashion in their earlier years and had met with similar experiences and feelings. Lou made a suggestion. She suggested I call a mutual friend that we have in the community who is very involved in many projects and might have a greater insight into what is available or how to go about finding a job in a difficult job market. I took her advice and emailed my friends. I didn’t have the boldness and confidence to call and potentially face rejection.

A series of what I’m regarding as serendipitous or synchronistic events occurred after writing that email. I had lunch and a dinner date with my friend. She was eager to meet with me. A few days later I had lunch with my friends husband who was also eager to talk about my plight and share his own. No answers were offered up but I definitely came away with a feeling of being more connected to the community and the people in it. I got a call back and a job interview for a position that was of interest to me.

Nothing was for sure. But suddenly, since conceding defeat, possibility came knocking at my door. It was possibility where before there was none. All I had to do was bow to failure. It was about trusting in the universe to provide. A lesson I have learned over and over and over again in my life.

Today I have a burgeoning career in the publishing industry. It’s a small, local, independent weekly newspaper. But it provides me with challenges, allows me to experiment and learn. It has been born out of nothing and has potential to grow and for me to grow with it. As I reflect back to a year ago, when I finally bowed to failure, I remember my plight but I'm filled with gratitude for the experience.