It’s Only Hide and Seek If They Look For You

Grandparenting Tip of the Day:

When playing multi-generational hide and seek, choose your hiding spot carefully.

I spent some precious time with my grandchildren this week, after a rough year of very little contact due to the pandemic. It was glorious fun!

On a couple of occasions, we engaged in some entertaining rounds of Hide and Seek. The adults hid alongside the kids and we had a lot of laughs and “difficulty” finding the littlest ones at times. (Little kids are very good at hiding, you know – even when they repeatedly tell you exactly where they’re hiding!)

During the last round of the last game before everyone went home, I decided to cleverly hide in a spot that none of the kids had used yet – behind a set of long drapes in a bedroom.

The game went off the rails soon after that.

The eight-year-old was the “seeker”. He found the two-year-old and the eleven-year-old, and had come into the room where I was hiding, but he didn’t see me.

Then there was no movement or sounds of any seeking going on.

After a long number of minutes, the 13-year-old and the almost-five-year-old called from the basement to let the seeker know, “We’re down here!”

No response from the seeker. Or the other two.

I kept listening and couldn’t hear any sounds except for the gentle conversation between the two who had been found – with the little one telling her bigger cousin that she loved him.

Then the 13-year-old and five-year-old took turns coming partway up the stairs to loudly yell that “We’re in the basement!”

No response from the seeker.

“What’s taking them so long?” the five-year-old asked her older cousin, who finally came all the way upstairs – only to find out that the seeker had to stop mid-seek because he had to go to the bathroom.

Hmmm… Now I, the grandma, had a decision to make.

Should I abandon my excellent hiding spot and go visit with the parents of these kids or should I stand firm and wait until the game resumed?

Well, I’m no quitter.

So I stayed.

I stood awkwardly behind the drapes, trying to ignore the cramping in my left calf muscle and then my right. I also tried not to cough or sneeze or breathe too deeply.

I glanced at my Fitbit. Probably 10 or 15 minutes had gone by since I had last heard any commotion that resembled “seeking.” What to do, what to do…

I finally heard the bathroom door open and then the combined voices of the older kids and the younger kids … and the seeker!

No! It couldn’t be!

They’d abandoned the game and had forgotten about Grandma!

A few minutes later, I decided I actually was a quitter after all – in this situation anyway.

I came out of the bedroom and said to the kids gathered together in the next room, “I guess the game is over. And you didn’t find me.”

There were looks of surprise, shock and dismay when the older ones asked, “Were you hiding?” and I answered, “Yes. All this time.”

Then there were many looks of embarrassment among the older kids, especially the little seeker.

Oops.

To his defence, I had not been playing in every single game, so it was a little harder to remember whether he was supposed to find me or not. Anyway… we smiled and carried on.

I still love them all dearly, but it will be awhile before I find a super great hiding place again.

Next time, I’ll go back to sitting in the middle of the floor with a blanket haphazardly thrown over my head. They’ll surely find me there, right?

Do they celebrate Valentine's Day in Heaven?

Today is Valentine's Day, a day we are supposed to celebrate the one person who loves us and whom we love. For many people, it's just another day. No big deal. And that is as it should be.

Why put pressure on ourselves if we happen to be single, without a partner, on February 14th?

Wait until tomorrow, buy yourself a box of chocolates on sale, and carry on.

My late husband Al and I rarely celebrated Valentine's Day. We preferred to tell each other "I love you" every day and we avoided the commercialism of Valentine's Day after our first few years of marriage.

February 14th was always special in another way, though, because it is my mom's birthday. She was a Valentine's Day baby, but she rarely celebrated it.

In our Ukrainian-Polish farm family, we didn't make a big deal about birthdays. If someone wished us a happy birthday or we received a gift of pyjamas or maybe a candy bar or - wow! - a cake, that was about it for a celebration. In fact, a celebration was unusual. As we got older, we sometimes were allowed to invite a friend to take the bus home from school and sleep over at our house. That's a celebration in itself to farm kids. 

In Al's English-Irish city family, birthdays were a HUGE deal! Your birthday day was "all about you" and you didn't even have to do dishes that day! What a shock to my system.

Poor Al. His farm-kid wife never really understood this concept. It took him most of our married life to convince me that I was worth fussing over on my birthday. My kids have since taken over that burden to make me feel special, and they're doing a fine job of it.

Today, I am alone but not alone. My beautiful daughter-in-law Kelli dropped by with a lemon loaf that she knows I like, and we shared hugs and a nice visit.

I'm going for a pedicure with my youngest daughter Dani after work. It will be the first pedicure for her and we are excited. I have also connected with our son, our oldest daughter, and the other in-laws. Everyone is fine.

And in honour of love today, I put on a new shirt covered with a dragonflies pattern - a fascinating creature that reminds me of my late mom and my dear departed husband.

I hope they are dancing together in Heaven. I'm sure Al is making sure that today is all about Mom. Do they do dishes in Heaven?

My parents, me and Al, Al's parents in the late 1990s

A haircut and a hug from Poland

On a particularly emotional day a few months ago, I decided to get a haircut. I had been missing my departed loved ones – my husband, my parents, and my parents-in-laws – more than usual. I needed to do something to boost my spirits.

Instead of going to my usual salon, I went to a new place.

I am the kind of person who doesn't really enjoy chatting the whole time that my hair is being cut - partly because I can't see without my glasses on and partly because I am not comfortable chatting or sharing details of my personal life with a room full of strangers.

But this day was different.

The woman who cut my hair had an accent. My curious journalist-self kicked in and I asked her where she was from.

"Poland," she said.

Interesting, I thought.

"My mother was born in Poland, and my dad was born in a part of Ukraine that was Poland at one time," I told her.

This led to a conversation about whether I speak the Polish language (I don't); how long she's been in Canada (two years; she and her husband came for better work opportunities); how I and my husband wanted to go to Poland when we were in Europe in 2013 but we ran out of time, however my youngest sister went to Ukraine that year and saw the area where our dad was born. 

The hairdresser asked whether I make any Polish food.

"I don't but my mom made perogies and cabbages rolls. What kinds of food do you make?" I asked her.

She told me she likes perogies, but she puts all kinds of different things in them - "white cheese, broccoli, garlic  - delicious!" 

Just then, I glanced up as she was trimming on one side of my head and I saw her name tag.

"Agnieszka." 

I was dumbfounded. "Oh my gosh! That's my mother's name!" I exclaimed. "Agnes."

"Yes," she replied. "It is hard for people to say here."

I miss my mother very much. She was a strong, faithful Christian woman with a zany sense of humour and a passion for bright-coloured blouses.

I sat in awe of this circumstance – a Polish hairdresser who shared the same name as my mom.

I will not call it is a coincidence. In my daughter Lisa Driver’s first award-winning book, Opening Up: How To Develop Your Intuition and WorkWith Your Angels, she notes that what we often think of as “coincidences” are actually signs that the universe is sending us a message. Our angels want to let us know they are with us. I have had too many “coincidence” experiences in my life to just set these aside as accidental. The probabilities of me going to that shop on that day at that time when that particular hairdresser was available to cut my hair are too big to comprehend. Everything aligned for that to happen.

I sat and enjoyed the rest of the cut – which is difficult to do when you’re almost blind without your glasses on!

When the haircut was done, I put my glasses back on and noticed a keychain that was hanging on the drawer handle in front of the salon chair.

"I love Poland," it said.

I smiled.

I asked if I could take a photo of it.

 “Yes,” Agnesiewska replied. “This is better, " she added as she turned the ornament around to show me the other side of it.

"I Love Polska."

Much better.

I felt a huge grin forming on my face. A message of love from my angel mom. A reminder of my Polish heritage.

As I was paying for the trim, Agnesiewska asked me, "Your mother - she lives?" 

"No,” I replied. “She passed away in 2011.”

"Oh... I sorry." 

This precious Polish woman paused just long enough for me to let her response sink in.

Then she sighed and added, "Ah... Life!"

Life indeed.

GROWING AND BLOSSOMING FROM A GRIEF RETREAT

This post was written on July 23, 2017. 

Yesterday was a good day. There were many moments of sadness, tears, and sorrow, but there were also moments of healing, laughter, and grace. It was good.
​
I am grateful for any "good" part of any day that has come my way since my husband died in January 2016. Anyone who knew my fun-loving, hug-giving Al knows that my life isn't nearly as "good" or as funny now as it has been for the last 40 years with him by my side. But I am trying, and yesterday was a big step towards more healing, learning, and peace as I was one of about 60 people who participated in the first-ever, full-day Heart 2 Heart Family Grief Retreat hosted by Palliative Care Services of the Regina and Qu’Appelle Health Region. It was fabulous.

We spent most of the day in group sessions that were specific to our type of loss and age group.

The session in which we shared our individual stories of losing our spouse was one of the hardest parts of the day. It was an important exercise that led to more healing, but many of us found it extremely painful to talk again about our losses – all involving palliative care circumstances – and to listen to the stories of the others in the room. However, telling the story is an important part of the process of grieving.

This sharing forged a strong, almost instant bond among us. We built on that as we attended workshops, yoga, meditation, made pebble art, exchanged information and fun stories about our loved ones, ate snacks and meals, discussed coping strategies, and so much more.

I was exhausted emotionally and physically at the end of the day, but the memories and the toolkit of tips and reminders that I carried home were priceless.

I was reminded that I am not alone on this grief journey. Others are also hurting, but there is help available if we are brave enough to seek it. Talking to other widows and widowers can be painful but helpful as they have also experienced the excruciating loss of a life partner. They do not judge; they listen and support. These are difficult skills to learn and put into action. I’m still working on them myself.

We received a wonderful handout with information from Victoria Hospice.​ I will read this handout many times over the coming days and months, and check other resources online and with a counsellor to continue with the process of grieving and healing.

I was reminded about the tips in my own blog post, “What I’ve Learned About Grief”, that I wrote just one month after Al died. I decided it would be important to share that information again because it could help someone. (Here’s the link.) I was reminded to reread my own blog post and to try to live those words, being gentle with myself – especially in my sadder, lonelier moments.

I learned about the power of self-compassion meditation from a Regina meditation instructor who also told us of the meditations of Tara Brach, available online. The instructor led us in an exercise where we placed our hands, one on top of the other, over our hearts and tuned into our breathing and feelings. The theory is that you let your thoughts float gently through your mind without judgment and you concentrate on your breath, just being in the moment for a few precious minutes of your busy day.

We talked later about how, when we lose our spouse, intimacy in the form of a daily hug or touch of a hand on the shoulder or arm is gone. We need to learn to be kind and compassionate to ourselves. We learned that touching our own hand, stroking our own cheek, or holding our hands over our heart can calm us and give us comfort. This 15-minute exercise helped many of us and gave a name to something I had found myself doing often when I felt anxious or sad. I learned this hands-over-heart idea a few months ago from my dear friend Susan. I did not know it had a name or a specific, science-based purpose until now. I was grateful for this meditation session.

On my way back to the retreat sessions from the park where we meditated, I noticed an abundance of beautiful flowers on the edge of the community garden nearby. I had sat by the other side of this large garden earlier in the day during a moment of grief after I saw all the photos of deceased loved ones, including a photo of my Al, on a memorial table. My mind quickly said, “He doesn’t belong there,” but I’m sure every other person at that retreat thought the same about their loved one. Still, the sight of Al's photo on a table with about 40 other photos hit me in an unexpected moment and I went outside and cried, stared at the garden, collected myself, then went back inside.

I had not noticed the flowers at the edge of the garden until then.

​I stopped to not only smell the roses but to take some photos.

Flowers make me smile and, at that moment, this garden was the fitting end to the meditation session. Flowers are colourful and full of life. They give me pause and hope for the future.​

We ended the day with a memorial service for our loved ones. We wrote their name or a note or a wish to them on a small paper “ornament” and hung it on a tree as we entered the chapel. We listened to inspirational words, in prose and poetry, sang a song with piano and guitar accompaniment, stared at our lit candles, and sat in silence. 

“Grieving is hard work,” a friend and pastor reminds me regularly. So yesterday was a good day of hard work.

​​I left the retreat grateful for the counsellors, leaders and volunteers who did so much to make it a good day; for the other participants who shared their stories and wisdom so freely; and for my family, who supported me with a debriefing and constant love as I made my way one more step along this road that we did not choose.

This summer when I was visiting my oldest daughter and her family, I bought a garden stone that sums up this story.

Gardening brings me peace. ​Gardening is good.

We are never sure of what tomorrow may bring, but we can carry on and live in hope, with the help of others. 

Busing it to Medicine Hat to sell books and carry on while grieving

I travelled by bus to Medicine Hat, Alberta from my home in Regina, Saskatchewan on the weekend – to do some work, including a signing at the Coles bookstore in the Medicine Hat Mall. I also enjoyed a visit with my eldest daughter, Lisa (who is also an award-winning author), my son-in-law Kyle, and their five-month-old baby girl. It was the first time in decades that I had travelled on a Greyhound bus and it was quite the experience.

I chose to take the bus because road conditions on the Canadian Prairies can change quickly, especially in winter months. I didn't want the stress of having to drive for almost five hours during a snowstorm if the weather turned bad. I thought an experienced bus driver could do that for me and I could figure out how to close my eyes and pretend everything was alright if the weather changed for the worse. Which it did, of course.

The drive there was fine. 

There was very little snow along the drive on Thursday morning. It was surprising to be able to see the fields. I did some people-watching on the packed bus – which stopped at many different communities along the way, offering plenty of opportunities for new characters to board and attract my attention.

I saw travellers who had either little income or no desire to care for themselves clothing-wise or hygiene-wise. These were people of all ages. There were younger males who explained to others that they were travelling across the country because of the downturn in the economy. (It is close to impossible to not overhear others while waiting at a bus terminal, especially boisterous young males.) Some travellers were older and by themselves. I gravitated toward older women, as they seemed closest to my age and life story.

During our lunch stop in Swift Current on the way there, I sat at a table with an older woman who also turned out to be a widow. We had a lovely visit and discussed our grief and how it takes years to process it and learn to live with it. We also talked about how others who are not as affected by our loved one’s death have carried on with their lives within days or weeks. It is hard being a widow. It is hard being alone. Our conversation offered some healing moments for each of us and we were glad we’d found each other on this journey, among this bus full of strangers.

On the buses there and back, there were a handful of riders who had obvious mental health problems. One talked loudly and explained his illness to anyone in his path. He was obviously a nice guy, but definitely sick. I wondered about him and felt sad that his drug use caused more problems for his mental health and daily interactions with others. One young man had visible twitches and made many trips to the bathroom on the bus ride home. Another yelled out in his sleep. It was enough to make me uncomfortable and I thought about the bus drivers who meet these people daily and take them onto their buses, hoping everything goes well – which it did on my buses.

On arrival in The Hat, I was met by my daughter, son-in-law, granddaughter, and this terrific sign:

It was the start to a great weekend.

As always, Lisa and I spent many hours talking about our books, marketing ideas, book awards contests, future book sales and signings, and other strategies for our respective companies - her Above 540 and my DriverWorks Ink.

It began snowing on Friday night and continued for the rest of the weekend. We visited and worked, drove through the snow, and visited and worked some more. (And I got in plenty of Grandma cuddles!)

Oh ... and we got our toenails painted! Thanks, Lisa, for the early birthday gift!

On Saturday, we had a signing event at the Coles bookstore in the mall.  Lisa signed her award-winning spiritual book Opening Up: How To Develop Your Intuition And Work With Your Angels and her new book Leap! How To Overcome Doubt, Fear And Grief & Choose The Path Of Joy. I signed two non-fiction books that I have compiled, Cream Money: Stories of Prairie People and Fun on the Farm: True Tales of Farm Life.

My granddaughter is the cutest co-signer I've ever had!

At the signing, we held each other up emotionally and spiritually when people asked about Lisa's new book, Leap! In it, she shares details of her own story and how she felt when she heard the news in August 2015 that her dad (my husband, Al) had colon cancer. She shares what that diagnosis meant in her life and how she coped with that situation at what should have been the happiest time of her life – a time of expecting her first baby.

Our entire family lived with hope from the minute that Al got sick. He chose to fight with all he had and we chose to be there beside him, doing whatever we could to keep all our spirits up and LIVE in every moment we had together. Unfortunately, in December 2015, the doctors surprised us with news that they could do no more. Al passed away two weeks later, on January 4, 2016.

In her Leap book, Lisa talks about overcoming feelings of doubt and fear as well, but mostly her story is one of carrying on through grief. She shares meditations and exercises and strategies to help readers overcome these obstacles and events in their lives.

It was tough for me to read her story, hearing my own child's pain. It was emotional for me to edit it and publish it. But she did it and I did it.

The story is difficult but important.

We know it has already helped others. 

"I am reading your new book and cannot put it down! It is filling me with the inspiration and affirmations I require. Your opening of your soul so openly in this book has me examining every inch of my own soul and filling it with love and appreciation for the journey I too am on."

We know Lisa's new book will continue to help others. And we are confident that Leap, like her first book, Opening Up, will win a book award too. It’s very well written.

So every time Lisa and I get together – as happens with my other two children and their partners – we talk, we listen, we care for each other. We miss our dad, dad-in-law and husband. We talk about him. We love him and each other. We grieve. We cry. We laugh. We hug each other. And we carry on.

Al and Deana Driver, 2013

The little one's fingers on the window were a precious sight as she looked out at the snow.

The bus leaves Medicine Hat going east only once a day. At 3:15 a.m. 

As the bus depot's answering machine's voice message says, “You heard that right; 3:15 in the morning.” You cannot buy a ticket “at this ungodly hour” – a comment that made me laugh out loud – but if you buy your ticket ahead of time, as I did, you can get on a bus driven by an experienced driver who will head out onto the highway even though it’s been snowing for three days and is still snowing, and there are warnings to stay off the highway.

It's quiet on the streets of pretty much any Canadian town or city at 2:30 in the morning. Medicine Hat is no exception.

I tried really hard to sleep while the bus driver did his job. The one kind-of-open lane of highway caused me some stress.

And it got a little worse partway home.

I did not take photos during the worst parts. I closed my eyes and said a lot of prayers.

But we made it! And I wanted to express my appreciation to the driver.

As he handed me my suitcase, which he had just pulled out from the storage compartment under the bus, I handed him a $20 bill. "I haven't taken a bus for years and I wanted to thank you for getting us here safely."

He just looked at me, so I asked him to please take it. He lifted his arm up and out a bit and asked me to "put it there", under his armpit. Ummm... okay.

As I turned and started walking away, he followed and stopped me. "Do you know that this is only the second time in 26 years that this has happened?"

"That someone gave you a tip?" I asked.

"Yes." 

"Well, you deserve it." And I left. Perplexed. I understand that people who ride the bus may not have much money but ... really? Not even a dollar? Sad.

My daughter-in-law Kelli and my youngest grandson picked me up from the bus depot and drove me home. I cherished the hugs and the "Welcome Home" sign made by my four-year-old grandson.

As I shovelled snow, I thought about the weekend and all its experiences and interactions. 

I saw this mug in Lisa's and Kyle's cupboard and I used it all weekend.

Profound and appropriate. Exactly.

Keeping My Chin Up After My Husband's Death

It's been five months and 10 days since my husband, soulmate and business partner Al Driver died of colon cancer. Stupid cancer! I'm so tired of even thinking about it. So I try not to.

I try to get through the days doing some work for our book publishing company, spending time with family and friends, moving stuff around inside my house, and tending to my flower garden and small, new vegetable garden. I am thankful that it is summertime and I can go outside and take short or long walks or bike rides. I can sit in the backyard and ponder or look at the sky at night and talk to the stars.

A couple of weeks ago, I went for lunch with my dear friend Nadine - my girlfriend soulmate. After lunch, we went to a wonderful local garden centre and perused the aisles before buying a few plants for our gardens. At one point, Nadine pointed out this bench:

I started to cry. Heavily.

I turned away from the bench and my attention was drawn to a wall FULL of signs and sayings.

But I only saw this one:

I burst out laughing. I recognized my husband's wacky sense of humour jumping out at me from the many quaint, tender, and funny sayings on that wall. "Come on, Deana. You can do it!"

Thanks, Hon. I needed that.

Yes, I need to keep my chin up. The days will get better, the evenings will eventually be not as long and lonely, and life will return to a comfortable new normal some day.

Our daughter Lisa Driver, who is a gifted spiritual healer and author, sent me a link to the website of another author and blogger who writes about Second Firsts. I have been encouraged and inspired by Christina Rasmussen's blogs, her social media posts, and her changed attitude toward life after loss. I highly recommend her to anyone who has lost someone dear to them.

As I sit alone in my home-based office, I think of others who have come through this and I know I will do so too.

I will get through this with the help of people like you and my friend Nadine.

Thank you for your continued caring of me and our family.

I will enjoy the rosebushes that I purchased in memory of Al.

And I will keep my sense of humour and my love of life.

I will remember all the good times - and some of the tough times - that I had with my husband during our 42 years together. And I will continue to tell his story for the rest of my life so that no one around me forgets him.

And I will hold onto my faith and know that life will again be good.

Chin up, Buttercup!

About Cancer, Hope, and Love

Hello, dear friends and supporters of our family and DriverWorks Ink publishing.

I am sorry to say I have some sad news to share with you.

My beloved husband and publishing partner, Al Driver, went into surgery around 9 p.m. on Thursday, December 17th. The purpose of the surgery was to get rid of the blockage in his bowel that has been causing him pain and preventing him from eating since he went to the hospital on Monday, December 7th. Around midnight on Thursday, he went into the recovery room after the surgery.

On Friday, December 18th, the surgeon (who also did Al's first surgery on August 20th and found the Stage IV colon cancer with a spot on his liver) told us that this bowel blockage was caused by multiple tiny tumours that have adhered to Al's bowel and are too small to show up on a CT scan. She could not remove the tumours because they are too attached to Al's bowel and she would have to cut the tumour or his bowel, which are not good options.

The tumours are on the site where the cancer was removed in August. There are also tumours on the lining of his abdomen. There was nothing the surgeon could do from a surgical perspective so, after three hours of exploring and trying to come up with a way to solve the problem, she closed Al up again because nothing more could be done.

The surgeon then spoke to Al's oncologist, and the oncologist said that neither chemotherapy nor radiation therapy are options. So there is nothing more that can be done. Al described it as “our last hope was severed.” Blunt but true.

Since Friday afternoon, our family has been reeling from this news but we are quickly gathering our strength (remembering Dionne Warner's 24-hour rule) to make Al’s last days on this earth as comfortable as possible. He has moved from surgery and oncology into palliative care, which focuses more on the comfort of the patient and quality of life rather than healing and curing.

He is in discomfort physically at times and last night, we were told he only has days left on this earth. 

Our hearts are breaking, but we know he will always be with us. God just needs another angel to spread love and hope in the world. Our Al will do that in his fine, deeply compassionate, humour-filled fashion.

Mentally, he is at peace with the situation. Unfortunately, he has had a lot of time to think about this possibility during these past four months of illness. He is hoping to be strong enough to be released from the hospital in the next few days so he is able to spend Christmas at home with our family. We will do everything we can to help him fulfill that goal and any others he has set. He is a strong, brave, wonderful man. We will cherish the moments we have left with him.

It occurred to me this past weekend that Al and I are "story people" so, without Al's knowledge but with the blessing of our children, I invited people to share a favourite story or memory they have of Al and/or what he has meant to them ... so that Al can enjoy these special memories and sentiments while he is alive. 

I called this a “submission request,” just as we have done with some of our anthologies. Ha ha! We plan to later compile these memories for our children, grandchildren, and family members yet to come. Everyone is welcome to share a story about Al. You can send your "Submission About Al" to me via the email address on our web page. Thank you in advance. 

As has been our desire all along, you are welcome to share this information about Al's health with others so they too can keep Al and our family and friends in their prayers.

We cherish all of you who have supported us, our family, and our publishing business. Thank you.

At the hospital with our son Dave and
our daughters Dani (left) and Lisa. 

My Al is a flawed human being, just like the rest of us, but his human frailties are far outweighed by the good he has done and the wisdom, love, caring, and compassion he has extended to others - especially me. That's what has come across loud and clear by all who have responded with a submission so far. It has been very special to read these stories and tributes to Al, enabling him to once more inject his quick wit and to verbally edit the remarks to make the facts fit the situation - as he remembers it! These memories have brought many smiles to him and us, and we have laughed and laughed and laughed these past two days!

Despite these being among the darkest days of our lives, we wish you and your family a happy holiday season. 

We plan to enjoy these next few hours, days or whatever time we have with Al. Cancer may take his life,  but there is so much that it cannot do.

What Cancer Cannot Do
Author: Unknown
Cancer is so limited...
It cannot cripple love.
It cannot shatter hope.
It cannot corrode faith.
It cannot eat away peace.
It cannot destroy confidence.
It cannot kill friendship.
It cannot shut out memories.
It cannot silence courage.
It cannot reduce eternal life.
It cannot quench the Spirit.

Take care.


In love and peace,
Deana and family

Small World - Reconnecting With Folks This Summer

Here's an "It's A Small World" story from last week.

When I walked into a seniors' home in Morinville, Alberta last Thursday, where I was going to be speaking about our books, a man was standing inside the front doors. He was waiting for whoever was coming to pick him up to take him to a day program outside the facility. He opened the door for me and then for Al when Al brought in our cart of books. Since we were just standing there, I decided to make conversation. I asked the fellow if they'd had much rain there.

"No, not much," he said. "Just last night."

I told him that I was glad it had rained. "We're heading to a family reunion in Athabasca, just north of here. A few weeks ago, my brother said they were spraying for grasshoppers."

The man kind of smiled, then pointed his index finger at me and said, "I KNOW who you are."

I stopped and took another look at him and my jaw dropped. "YOU'RE ________  ________," I yelled, saying his name.

He smiled.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

I had been the recipient of that pointed finger a few times when we were kids, and I had now recognized the man from that gesture I had seen many times as a kid. His family lives about a mile from our farm and we went on the same school bus every day! My brother has visited and worked with this friend of ours for years, but he'd lost track of where our friend had moved in retirement.

So now we know. 

I grabbed our friend and asked Al to take a photo of the two of us. 

How cool is that?

At a Thursday afternoon speaking event in my hometown, I reconnected with at least five seniors who played a role in my childhood as well. Some had been friends with my parents and some were neighbours. (When I was growing up on the farm, anyone who lived within a 50-mile radius was considered a neighbour.) One of the seniors was a former high school Industrial Arts teacher, whom I did not take classes from but whom I had always considered to be a respected teacher. Later that evening, I visited with three of my cousins and also reconnected with a friend from high school whom I had not seen for more than 40 years! I love how life throws such fascinating, fun curves at you every now and then.

We spent the rest of the weekend reconnecting with relatives on my father's side of our family. We visited, ate great food, played cards and other games, and genuinely had a great time.

Then Al and I, my three sisters and one brother, with most of our family members, spent Sunday afternoon at the lake near my brother's farm. It was a beautiful day weather-wise  - hot and sunny with a slight breeze.

It was the perfect ending for a great weekend of visiting, reminding me of where I come from and who I am - a farm kid from Alberta who loves the Prairies and its people.

Fun at Frontier Days - Swift Current's Summer Fair

Frontier Days Fair and Rodeo in Swift Current, Saskatchewan, is typical of summer fairs across Western Canada. It has its share of cowboys, cowgirls, ranchers, cattle, horses, midway rides, midway food, exhibits, cowboy hats, trade show items for sale, home-cooked food, and entertainment.

DriverWorks Ink had a booth at the Frontier Days trade show this year and Al and I spent time visiting with lots of great people, including Bryce Burnett, author of our book Homegrown and other poems. Bryce is a local rancher as well as a poet and a member of the Swift Current Ag & Ex board of directors, serving as chairperson of the Livestock section of Frontier Days.

Here's a photo journal of our time at Frontier Days 2015.

Howdy, partner! Welcome to Swift Current's Kinetic Park!

This is the door to the office of the Stockade Building, where we were set up as part of the commercial exhibits/trade show.

Here's my partner in publishing (and my husband too), Al Driver, telling customers about our amazing Prairie books written by Prairie authors, including me. 

Outside the Stockade Building, there was a lot going on too.

West Coast Amusements was set up to entertain with amusement rides, games, food, etc.

Doc's Town is a section of Kinetic Park that features preserved Prairie buildings and other features such as farm machinery.

I didn't know Case tractors were ever blue. I suspect this one was painted and then moved to this property. The Case tractors we drove on the farm, when I was growing up in Alberta, were a distinctive orange colour like this one - which looks a lot like the one we had. (Seeing the photo of this two-toned orange Case tractor just took me back almost 50 years to my days as a 10-year-old frantically trying to reach the clutch and brake as I turned the corner while pulling the baler behind the tractor. Yikes!)

But back to Swift Current's Frontier Days...

Walking around the grounds, I enjoyed the old buildings, but I did stop and do a double-take when I saw this...

It's a DINOSAUR!

A man dressed as a dinosaur actually - moving every so often and freaking out whoever happens to look that way. It's part of an educational display to tell folks about that era. 

"Alright, heart... you can slow down your beating again now..." I said to myself.

At supper time, this was the best place to go on the grounds. 

The Tea House offered home-cooked meals, like this turkey dinner, complete with lemonade and a dessert of lemon cake and ice cream. 

For $14, this was all ours to enjoy. That's right, ours. Al and I shared this delicious meal as well as the roast beef dinner the following evening. 

Another fine feature of these meals - the profits from the meals went towards the maintenance of Doc's Town on the grounds. Win Win!

We got a chuckle out of this ironic sight - a burly Hutterite farmer holding this very pink, very feminine, inflatable "Princess Power" mallet. It just goes to show you the warm heart of this fellow.

And we saw cowboy hats. Lots of them.

Even on little guys like this one, who was enjoying his berry-flavoured drink on a hot, hot summer day. (His parents gave me permission to take and share his photo.)

On another stroll around the grounds, I headed toward the barns. I enjoyed seeing this operational "General Store" selling cold drinks, snacks, and various hardware and other items.

These cattle are being led between the barns.

A 4-H Angus class is being judged here. (Our author and friend Bryce Burnett raises Black Angus cattle and Tarentaise cattle, by the way.)

These riders are lining up for their turn in the ring.

A heavy horse event is being judged.

I asked this woman's permission to take a photo of her shirt. Every time I see angel wings, I think of eight-time cancer survivor Dionne Warner, subject of my award-winning book Never Leave Your Wingman: Dionne and Graham Warner's Story of Hope (shameless plug). 

This woman graciously stopped walking and posed for me.

I thanked her. She will never know how many people have smiled and been given a tiny bit of joy and hope because of the shirt she wore that day.

I got a kick out of the prizes offered on the midway. Minions were everywhere...

... including in the lap of this tiger!

Minion Fall Down ... Can't Get Up!

WHAT ... IS ... THIS?

That's exactly what I said to myself as these spry young fellows walked by our booth one afternoon.

I caught up to them a couple aisles later and, being the shy young men that they are (not), they quickly began posing for me when they saw my camera. Clever guys. 

But it must have been ridiculously hot in those outfits since it was plus 34 degrees Celsius most days of the fair! The things some people will do to make an entrance, hey?

We were pleased to see people stop at the booth of STARS (Shock Trauma Air Rescue Service Foundation, which operates in Saskatchewan, Alberta and Manitoba). "STARS offers time, hope and life-saving transport to critically-injured patients."

Jeffrey Dickson, the STARS community relations officer for Saskatchewan, was selling lottery tickets for STARS. 

My favourite line from Jeff came when a man accidentally tripped on a chair by Jeff's booth. Jeff quickly responded with, "This is the right booth if you're going to get hurt." Jeff may not be a paramedic, but he has a great sense of humour and works for a good organization.

And the BIG NEWS of the fair for us?

Bryce Burnett has been notified that his book, Homegrown and other poems, has been named a Finalist for a 2015 Will Rogers Medallion Award. How great is that?

Bryce's book of cowboy and other poetry celebrating Prairie rural life has already won an Honorable Mention in the Poetry category of the 2014 Great Midwest Book Festival. How nice would it be to win another award!

Congratulations, Bryce! Well done. 

(Bryce and I stopped for a selfie to celebrate his book being named Finalist in this prestigious competition.)

The Will Rogers Medallion will be handed out this fall in Fort Worth, Texas. We'll keep you posted on how Bryce's book fares.

Al Driver and Bryce Burnett had a visit at our booth one evening, when Bryce could take a break from his Ag & Ex duties.

And our daughter Lisa Driver visited us for a bit one day too. Lisa is the author of the award-winning spiritual wellness book, Opening Up: How To Develop Your Intuition and Work With Your Angels.

Shortly after this photo, she and I drove to Regina to get ready for her bridal shower! yes, this is going to be a great, busy summer!

But first, farewell from Swift Current's Frontier Days!

May your summer include time for you to relax and have some fun.

May you find joy in the simple things, the images and sights and sounds that surround you.

Most of all, may you find time to be with the ones you love.

Happy summer, everyone!