The final third

Death is said to be the only really fair thing about this life because death comes for all of us sooner or later. I intend to cheat death as long as possible. Currently at age fifty-five and in decent physical health, I'd be happy to at least make it to my eighties in good body and mind. With hard to predict randomness of health and mixed messages from two family's merged genetics, I could live another week or another fifty years. Doing the math as a glass-half-full type, I've probably got at the least a very good third of my life left. My goal is to make that the best and happiest third of my life.
The first third of life is decided by our parents: most things we can't control and only at the end of that period do we find ourselves finally able to make our own choices and set our own directions. We try to seize the reins of power as early as possible, but really begin to gain control as our formal education finishes and our career choices take hold. Youth is full of dreams and hope, and reality slowly creeps into our lives as hard lessons we must accept. Listen up kids: income is independence and income brings that ability to shape our own lives.
By the time we're in our thirties, we're becoming pretty well defined. This second third is usually a wonderful time of building and growth. My second third was full of marriage, children and planning for the future as our careers take shape and our earning potential rises towards our dreams. It's a busy time and we've got a lot of wonderful needs to fill and lots of investment to make in the next generation. Watch the birds in spring as they nest, scramble to feed and educate their brood, and then empty that nest. We were those birds that never stopped and were rewarded for our efforts and attention as we addressed every chirp and call, then watched and worried as they left the nest and flew. We suffered more than our share of family tragedy in the last decade as one of our small brood flew to the angels. We have survived with deep scars, but perhaps have been changed for the better in some ways.
This final third should be our best. We deserve it because we've worked hard and done everything we could right. We should have more control, our nest is empty, and Jessica and Stuart have a great flight plan for their life and a brood of their own starting next year. The randomness and reality of planning to enjoy and fund this last third will be rendered even more complex and confusing in the current economic Armageddon because a bunch of greedy pirate investment bankers caused most of us to lose a third of what we'd stashed. But we're flocked together with almost everyone else in that situation and if I learned anything in that second third of my life. it's that we can all be random victims of the stupidity or evil of others.
Mentoring and being mentored is an important way to avoid mistakes in life. At the end of my first third of life, I looked for mentors and guides. During the second third, I tried to be a mentor and guide to a younger generation. Now I'm back to looking for well placed footsteps to follow for my last third of life.
We recently took a wonderful trip to Italy, a country that truly overwhelms every sense we have. I'd happily go back to spend sixty days in almost any one of the places we visited. Sixteen days in all, the middle ten days were with a local organized group of twenty, mostly retired and significantly older than us, but all physically and socially active and working hard to stay fit. I may have learned a lot about history in Italy, but by getting acquainted with our fellow travellers, I learned a lot more about life and some very good directions I would like to follow for our future.
One of Hudson's greatest resources is the continuity of the generations. Those older than us have an immense wealth of knowledge about life and community ­ and time to share that knowledge, if we just ask. We really do attract an exceptional and varied group of people to Hudson. One of the great parts of our trip to Italy was finding a big group of footsteps I'd happily follow and some wonderful new friends and potential mentors I might not have found otherwise.

The $50,000 question

By the time you read this - God and Canada Post willing - St. Lazare's new council will have released the agenda 24 hours before last night's first council meeting. The agenda doesn't give much away, but at least it gives residents advance warning of zoning and loan bylaws up for debate the next evening. It's a small but determined step away from the obsessive secrecy that has dominated St. Lazare municipal business for the past two administrations.
In Hudson, the chairman and senior member of the Town Planning Advisory Committee have been replaced. Mayor Michael Elliott emphasized it wasn't because of any conflicts of interest, but because of the perception of conflict, given that both men are involved in the seniors residence, medical centre and other projects that will need to meet regulatory hurdles.
Prior to the election, TPAC chairman Rob Spencer explored alternatives to the closed-door meetings between the TPAC and developers petitioning for approval of a new subdivision or project. In Ontario, he noted, not only are the planning consultation meetings open, but residents who might be affected by a project in their sector are actually invited to attend.
As Elliott said at the last council meeting, it may be that Quebec won't allow municipalities to open the planning consultation process, but that doesn't mean the town won't try.
Those are baby steps compared to what has to be done to place our elected officials in control of the process of governing. Here's my $50,000 question: Will that mandate for change extend to shedding excess municipal weight?
Municipalities are afraid of taking on debt to buy hard assets, but we have no such fear when it comes to adding bodies to the municipal payroll. Here's an equation to consider at budget time: The average municipal employee costs the taxpayer $50,000 per year with entitlements. The money we save by laying off one employee would cover the borrowing cost for $1 million toward a capital infrastructure project.
After 40 years of watching federal, provincial and municipal democracies in action, I've come to believe the only people who see themselves with a clear mandate to govern are public employees. They've gone through regime changes before; they know the new brooms sweep clean and get into those dirty corners, but they also know it won't be long until those keen new sweeping arms tire and the brooms start to wear.
Municipal employees are regime-change survivors because most councils don't have the time or inclination to work that hard. The majority of mayors and councillors have day jobs. They usually don't have the time to learn the files, so they depend on briefings from municipal managers to bring them up to speed and keep them there. As a result, municipal employees, not councils, end up making budget decisions.
Democracy breeds bureaucracy. Senior municipal employees become adept at empire-building to lighten their workloads, negotiating contracts with four-day work weeks and other entitlements. To get the work done, they add staff. Municipal payrolls get bloated with employees who, through no fault of their own, are not essential to the betterment of the lives of
residents.
If this nascent spirit of transparency is to be transformed into action, incoming councils should begin by zero-basing municipal payrolls and determining whether the workload justifies the staff. Don't give me 'that's what every other Quebec municipality does,' because I'll give you a recent HEC study that found Quebec's workforce to be the most unproductive in North America.
Privatization makes a lot more sense than paying people to do nothing because we can't afford the projects they'd be working at. My brother Jon was a municipal employee for the City of Winnipeg for years until he realized he could make more as a private contractor than as a municipal worker. He works harder and has to worry about meeting a payroll and covering equipment costs, but he hasn't looked back.
If taxpayers had any idea how much is wasted on consultants, there would be a revolt. The outgoing St. Lazare council wouldn't tell us how much they spent hiring Genivar and other consulting firms to do the work you'd think the bureaucracy was paid to do. My best guess is somewhere in the mid-six figures.
In Hudson, it's the magic-bullet fixation. A recent meeting of the Hudson Core Marketing Group presented local businesses with a scenario that would have the town turn over $50,000 in business taxes to an unelected, unrepresentative body to hire someone to drum up business for local merchants. Anyone in sales who believes a marketing consultant can do their job for them is in the wrong line.
I've had to lay people off. I've been laid off myself. Neither process is enjoyable. But as we head into the municipal budget cycle, our councils have to ask themselves whether the taxpayers can afford some luxuries we've come to think of as essentials - especially when a tax hike is otherwise inevitable.

Our community's inner beauty shines

by Lianne Bridges-Parkinson

Most of us know on some level that we live in a very special place. Many have chosen to live here to experience a unique way of life. The treasures of this community are vast and include a rich culture, but its true beauty lies within the heart of the community - its members.
I was fortunate recently to experience this beauty in its full splendor. Almost two years ago, my husband, Bob, was diagnosed with a virulent form of cancer called mesothelioma. When we got the gut-wrenching news and learned that the prognosis was grim, we felt paralyzed. We have two small children and a life that we loved together in Hudson. We asked ourselves, "Where do we turn?" The answer, we would soon learn, was to be found in our community.
One of the hallmarks of a small town is the speed that news travels. Within days, half the community was aware of our situation and was offering to help. We were flooded with calls and emails. The overwhelming support and love we received became a shining light and transforming presence throughout my husband's illness and even after his death.
A group of our friends decided to formalize this support with the creation of "The Circle of Friends". The group was formed as a way for friends to help other friends in need. "The idea spawned from the fact that many of us don't have family close by, so we need to rely on each other when times get tough", explained co-founder, Shauna Cardenas.
It started with a dozen or so women, but rapidly swelled to more than 70 members with the help of technology and the deft database and project management skills of co-founder Judy Nagy. The number of acts of kindness and the variety of support that our family received were astonishing. Our fridge was constantly filled, with overflow meals filling friends' freezers. Drives, childcare, dog-walking, help with homework, house work, and pretty much anything were offered by friends and strangers alike.
When Bob's illness took a turn for the worse, NOVA Hudson rushed to his aid, supported by the local doctors and the Fire Department, which brought a hospital bed and medical supplies. The nurses provided around-the-clock support, allowing Bob to pass peacefully at home, surrounded by his family.
In our community, when a member dies, the whole community comes out to mourn its loss. Friends, neighbours, town employees and business owners alike lined up to offer their condolences, some obviously grief-stricken. As a member who gave his time to the community, Bob's passing was honoured with flags flown at half-mast and a Fire Department honour guard at his funeral service. The Circle of Friends, led by Lora Smith, Sue McLennan, Shauna Cardenas, Mike Clayman and Jean Chevalier, collectively turned the community centre into a banquet and an incredible celebration of life for hundreds of people.
The community's generous spirit was profoundly demonstrated by its members offering their homes to strangers, and the sea of donations to NOVA Hudson and to the Terry Fox Run, which Bob participated in three weeks prior to his death.
The most touching illustration of this giving spirit was the "Baskets of Hugs" that were offered by the local children to my boys in their time of mourning. I don't think anyone who attended the funeral will ever forget the vision of the wave of young children flowing down the aisle and surrounding the boys at the altar. In fact, when Judy Nagy, who organized the Baskets of Hugs, whispered to my son, "You have a lot of friends!", he smiled and said, "I didn't even need to invite them ­ they just came for me!"
After the funeral, when the out-of-town guests returned to our home, the talk on everyone's lips was of the incredible outpouring of support our family received from this beautiful community. No one, whether from large cities or small towns, had ever seen anything like it before. They were inspired. Most returned home to tell their friends of the special community they had the privilege of experiencing. Today, I am still in awe and filled with deep gratitude for the beautiful light our community shone on my family during our time of need.

Birthday gift

It's been a while now that I've been due for a newer set of wheels, with my rusty 1995 Sentra eating away at my savings with breakdowns and costly repairs that became harder to justify over time. With the arrival of my 40th birthday at the end of August, I decided to mark this year with some special celebrations and gifts to myself, including the soon-to-be-purchased vehicle.
Working two jobs, I found it difficult to find the time and energy to look for a car. I didn't look forward to the search process. Because my budget was limited, I was afraid of disappointment and not getting my ideal car. And I was mortified at the prospect of dealing with car salesmen and being taken for a ride.
My fears were proven to be well-founded with my initial searches. I went to one dealership that offered a small economy car they'd been advertising since at least early spring for $9995. By mid-August, the same ad with the same price suddenly turned into an "end of summer clearance sale". Right. How stupid do they think we are?
When I pointed this out to the salesman, he completely dissociated himself from the ad, making sure that "the ad" took the blame for any discrepancies. He used this tactic throughout his pitch whenever I pointed out the difference between their advertised and actual prices and various details. The next time you see a car ad, remember there's often a huge difference between what they call a "starting at" price (also something that can be referred to as a myth or a lie) and the real price you end up paying.
I learned with disappointment that this car, as cheap as they make it sound, was out of my reach. And it wasn't even my ideal car. The $9995 was the starting price for a manual, no-frills vehicle. The actual price for a car with automatic transmission and A/C alone, no other extras, would have cost $15,400, taxes, freight and preparation included, but not factoring in financing. Think about it. That's more than half the car's advertised price added on.
With this experience and several others like it, I was discouraged. One friend told me that the best thing to do was to bring a guy with me to shop for a car. I could understand where she was coming from, and the same thought had crossed my mind. But I had a fundamental problem with this. I can proudly say that I've been able to buy my own home completely on my own. When tough times hit at work and I found myself scrambling for hours, I was able to go through extraordinary means to maintain my independence and stay afloat. So I had a really hard time accepting that, at 40, I would have to put aside my independence when it came to looking for a car and take on the role of a little girl needing to hold her daddy's hand. I couldn't stomach that, so I decided to put my fears aside and muddle through the car-search process until I got somewhere.
And that's exactly what I did. Along the way, I got a lot of advice from family and friends, male and female. That helped because my knowledge of cars is rather limited. And I dealt with every type of salesman imaginable, from the phoney and slick to the decent and honest. No matter how intimidating any of them seemed, I remembered that at the end of the day, as long as they didn't get my money, I was the one who came out on top.
I quickly learned that there was no way I could afford a brand new car and would have to settle for the best used car I could afford. And after endless, tiresome searching, I finally found my baby. After a CAA inspection (which I insisted on, ALWAYS a must), I brought her home last week. A 2008 Yaris, with just under 54,000 km. And the best part is that it's the nice, dark cherry-red I was hoping to get.
The Sentra qualified for the Clear The Air Program, a government-sponsored initiative to get vehicles from the year 1995 and earlier off the road and recycled. It was picked up the day after I got my new car. Letting go was harder than I expected it to be.
But the birthday gift was definitely worth the wait.

Bad dreams

The little man has been having nightmares lately. We've not managed to piece together the exact stories: sometimes it's pirates or his stuffed animals in peril, sometimes it's simply a friend of his who took something away in the dream.
I know from my own dreams, good or bad, that it's not always a rational thought that leaves you blinking awake at 4 a.m. Sometimes all you have left is a few threads of a "plot" and the vague feeling of uneasiness that accompanies a sudden middle-of-the-dream awakening.
Jasper is tall for his age and popular among the girls already. For whatever reason, they like to taunt him outside of preschool and then run away squealing when he chases them. (I was at least 15 years older before girls treated me that way, mostly in pubs.) We try to keep him on a short leash and warn him that girls don't like leaves thrown in their hair, punches on the arm, or being pushed over the way that boys do.
He sometimes comes out with very profound comments. When I told him the story of Sehr Sehr, the polar bear I had as a child that got lost on a shopping trip in London, he held my hand and said, "Poor Daddy! We can get you another Sehr Sehr."
At other times he descends into farce with his "Catty" and "Kitty" characters, which are both human/cat personas and both, for whatever reason, apparently mentally deficient. Kitty is way worse than Catty and is perhaps the most unlikeable character I've ever encountered, outside of the movie "No Country For Old Men" at least.
For all his height and self-assurance, Jasper is still a little boy and it's sometimes hard to remember that. My expectations of him are perhaps too high on a day-to-day level. Parenting is at least in part a balancing act, even when you remove the adult factors like balancing the life you dedicate to your kids with the life you share with your spouse.
An even keel is the ultimate goal, but keeping a cool head when all around you are rubbing Thai fried rice into theirs, or redecorating the walls with colouring pencils, is not always so straightforward. Sleep well.
Connect with me online! email: jaspersdad@live.ca Internet: www.jaspersdad.com