Tag Archives: Family

Apr 1 2008

Four and More

Well, after much thought and discussion, B and I have decided that now is the right time to start trying for child number three. Aidan and Kieran will soon be five and three respectively, and they are now at an age when they can play together and entertain themselves for a while, leaving us time to look after a little one.

It’s a big step, and I’m a little nervous. I’m glad we recently bought a car with seating for six as the extra row is going to come in handy. I’m not sure what we’ll do about the house – with only two bedrooms, it might be time to look into something a little larger. I’ve already been thinking about moving out to the suburbs to be closer to good schools and those convenient big box stores.

I’ve actually found this blog is getting a little dull with recycled posts about music and the boys. So, for the next few months, I thought I’d offer an alternative and give people an intimate view of our attempts to become a quintet (sorry, no photos). I’ll be posting B’s ovulation chart later this week so you can follow along and offer encouragement. We’re really hoping for a girl this time, so if you have any advice on timing or positions to achieve this, please let us know before we get too far along.

Mar 10 2008

14 Feet and Counting

In a post from December 17, I wrote the following:

“There’s the feeling that we’re witnessing something special, a once-every-thirty-years kind of winter that people will talk about for years to come. Come on, Mother Nature, show us what ya got.”

Three months later, I’d like to apologize to the poor citizens of Ottawa for taunting Mother Nature – I completely underestimated her wrath.

This is a winter of mythic proportions. The city has almost become unrecognizable, with streets reduced to narrow canyons weaving between towering snowbanks. Driving has become a game of chicken, with head-on collisions narrowly avoided when one driver squeezes over to take refuge at the end of a driveway. Snow is the only topic in Ottawa (well, that and “What the hell happened to the Senators?”)

Now some of you may be thinking “hey, we’ve had snow, too”. No, you haven’t. Toronto? 190 cm. Waterloo? 246 cm. Montreal? 346 cm. Vancouver? Please.

After the 56 cm we received this past weekend, we’re at 410 cm, or almost 14 feet of snow. When I say I’ve never seen this much snow, it’s true – the record was set during the winter of 1970-71, just slightly before my time. We still have another foot to go to set the record, and I’m hoping it happens. Second place is for chumps, and I didn’t strain my back shoveling for the past few months just to finish behind some lame measurement from the Nixon era.

I’ve embraced the new Ottawa landscape. Our backyard, untouched for the past two months, has become an awesome playground, with trenches, tunnels, and forts of stunning size. As I played with the boys after dinner tonight, I was also struck by a sudden sadness. This wonderland is fleeting, and I don’t have long to enjoy it with Aidan and Kieran before it disappears, perhaps never to return.

So, Mother Nature, now that you’ve dumped all this on us, would it be too much to ask to let it stay around for a while? I’ve got a few more forts to build, a few more holes to dig, a few more muscles to pull from shoveling.

Orleans Snowwall

FYI, our snowbank isn’t quite this high. Luc Guertin from Orleans built this 16 foot monster by hand over the past couple of months.

Mar 3 2008

Age and Memory

I picked up City of Glass:  Douglas Coupland’s Vancouver the other day.  Among his observations on all things Vancouver, from Chinatown to Wreck Beach, this paragraph stood out:

“Now:  I believed that you’ve had most of your important memories by the time you’re thirty.  After that, memory becomes water overflowing into an already full cup.  New experiences just don’t register in the same way or with the same impact.  I could be shooting heroin with the Princess of Wales, naked in a crashing jet, and the experience still couldn’t compare to the time the cops chased us after we threw the Taylor’s patio furniture into their pool in the eleventh grade.  You know what I mean.”

I find this observation both fascinating and disturbing.  As someone on the far side of thirty,  it troubles me to think that my experiences and memories might somehow have been dulled by the passing of time.  Have I really missed my window to generate meaningful experiences?

Upon reflection, I think what made experiences from our youth fresher, more vital, can be tied to the near total lack of responsibility and predictability that we enjoyed.  Everything was an adventure in those days.  I can remember setting off with a couple of friends in the 7th grade to buy a hacky sack from John Galt Mall without our parents’ permission.  As the sun was setting, and we rode our bikes down 5 miles of busy roads, it seemed like a daring, rebellious act.  Bush parties, underage drinking, awkward first kisses – those moments still retain their clarity.

These days, life can cynically be described as an endless loop of predictable actions.  Pay day every two weeks, car payment on the 15th, swimming lessons on Saturday mornings – it can be easy to mistake one week from the next, and before you know it, February has gone by.  Repeat a few times and you wake up to find you’ve missed an entire year.

I’m not quite that jaded.  There are certainly times I long for my university days, when friends were plentiful, obligations were few, and crazy stuff happened with surprising regularity.  However, the last few years have also given me the memory of my boys being born, and the indescribable feeling of having them fall asleep on my chest.

So, I don’t think the cup’s full.  I just think the water’s flowing a bit more slowly these days.

Feb 27 2008

More About the Dearlove Name

I came across this article online, which supposedly appeared Yorkshire Illustrated magazine in 1952. I’ve edited it a bit as it’s rather long (if you’re really interested, you can find the full article here.)

A couple of things struck me as funny. First, we seem to have a lot of John Thomases in our history. For me, that name immediately makes me think of Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life. Second, the final paragraph seems to predict the demise of the professional musician, which in hindsight was a rather poor prediction.

THE DEARLOVES
One of the most remarkable musical families in England today is that of the Dearloves of Yorkshire. For two hundred years every member of it has played some form of instrument and the majority have been professional players. Their name is known in every theatre and in every orchestra in the country. They have been linked with the entertainment world in all its aspects, from cinemas to circuses, and from band waggonettes to broadcasting, and they owe it all to Mark Dearlove, a professor of music, and a maker of violins, who was born about 1771.

Yet if a family story had any proof, and were to be believed, the Dearloves owe it all to William the Conqueror! The story that has been handed down the years, and the one they regard as a joke which they love to tell in their more pontifical moments, is that when King William came over in 1066 he brought with him among his army, a number of trumpeters. One of them, so it is said, was named de Louvre, and from this, say the family, it is not a far cry to Dearlove.

…

The son of the original Mark, is always spoken of as “Mark William”, and it was he who became one of Englands noted violin makers. When the Great Exhibition of 1851 was proposed, he conceived the idea of making a quartet of miniature scale models for display there, comprising a violin, a viola, a cello and a bass fiddle, each with its respective miniature case. They were greatly admired as the work of a craftsman, and shortly afterwards they were taken to Australia by one of Mark Williams sons.

…

His eldest son, also names John Thomas, carried on the family tradition, and for more than thirty years was the musical director of the Harrogate Grand Opera House. He also provided the Harrogate Military Band, of which he was musical director, and which at one time comprised his brothers playing violin, cello, bass, clarinet, flute and cornet, with his wife playing the piano.

…

The eldest son of John Thomas II, likewise a John Thomas, but better known as Jack, is secretary of the Musicians Union, and another Jack, son of William Henry, has his own band and does a considerable amount of broadcasting. They are all proud of the wonderful record held by their parents, and so too is the next generation. They are, however, not concerned with music as a profession, although there is an inherent desire to be associated with it and most of them play as amateurs. They are turning to other vocations realizing that the day of the professional musician is waning.