"I'm Sorry."

Has anyone else noticed the glut of apologies in the media lately? Politicians, businessmen and the clergy have been apologizing for years but now it seems everyone is getting into the act. It seems like every time you turn around someone is apologizing for something they did or didn't do. Most recently we see Olympic athletes apologizing for not winning a gold medal. What's that all about and just who are they apologizing to? Certainly not me....

And there have been some pretty hefty apologies lately - the Pope even said he was sorry for the Crusades and that the church persecuted Galileo - isn't there a statute of limitations on these things? Lighten up Pope, Galileo and most of the people tortured by the Inquisition have forgotten all about it. Mr. Toyota has been on TV recently apologizing for every car he ever made - I never owned a Toyota so I guess I will have to wait until Mr. Ford or Mr. Kia gets around to me. Because it seems that before you apologize - you have to get caught. Ahh - now we are getting somewhere.

Don't get me wrong - I am not anti-apology. A personal apology can be sincere as in "Oops - I stepped on your foot. Sorry!" But to me a sweeping apology to an entire nation or race after several hundred years is a little different.... "Oops - I subjected your entire civilization to centuries of persecution and abuse. Sorry!" Can you see the subtle distinction here?

I have always thought that when someone is backed in the corner and delivers an overdue apology they are really rolling their eyes and saying "Ok Mom - you caught me stealing from the cookie jar. I promise I won't do it again - can I go out and play now?"

So that is my opinion and if you disagree with me you are just plain wrong. But if you care to pursue the matter and can successfully prove that you have been wronged by any statements made in this blog please be assured that I will eventually apologize and say "I'm sorry".

Flogging My Memory

I have always been a Beatles fan. Or at least ever since I was in the fifth grade and walked across the bridge from Devon to Herbie's Music Store on Queen Street to look at a picture of them in the window. Imagine that! There they were - a small black and white photo cut from a magazine and taped to the inside of the glass, and I was hooked. I hadn't even heard them sing yet - they were nothing more than a rumour! This sort of phenomenon could not happen today and if you are too young or too old to have missed it, I feel a little sorry for you. But fear not - you can read about all the excitement right here.

Ah Beatles memories - where do I start? I was in grade 6 by the time the Beatles finally hit the airwaves. They were all over the radio which in those days meant 8 to 9 pm on weeknights (The Nightwatch Show! With Denny Miller!) and Saturday afternoon with Wee Willie. But the big event was when they first came on Ed Sullivan on a freezing cold Sunday night in February 1964. Picture this: we were all seven of us crammed into my parents bedroom, where the TV was kept - probably because it was the warmest room in the house. Mom, Dad and 5 kids ranging from 8 to 18 all sprawled on the bed and the floor watching - THE BEATLES!

I often wonder what my parents were thinking as this was happening all around them. Mom being from Scotland sort of liked the Beatles, I think because they were British and she felt a connection to them. But for Dad they were more of a religious experience because every time he heard them on the radio or saw them on the news his reaction was always a disgusted but heartfelt "Jesus Christ!"

How happy he must have been when we all began to sing their songs every waking hour and even after we went to bed. My brother and I used lay in bed at night and sing in what I am certain we thought was perfect two part harmony. Our specialty as I recall was Please Please Me.

And then there was the hair. We did not have the nerve yet to actually grow our hair like the Beatles but we could comb our bangs down and that is what we all did. Drove our parents and our teachers crazy - how could we learn with all that hair in our eyes? And if we couldn't grow our hair fast enough then the next best thing was, you guessed it - Beatle wigs! Someone got their hands on a Beatle wig and never has a wig seen more active duty on more heads than that particular piece of woven polyester. I remember getting the nerve once to wear it to school and as I walked down the street my friend Ian Sedgwick saw me coming from a whole block away and actually screamed - such was the power of the wig.

Eventually the wig was replaced by actual hair much to the disgust of parents and teachers alike but at least I had one adult on my side in my quest for Beatledom. One Sunday night my Aunt Ruby was at the house to give me a hair cut and actually stood up to Dad and convinced him to allow her to give me a Beatle hair cut. She was from that day on, and remains - my favorite aunt.

And I even had a brush with Beatle fame in the person of my grade 6 art teacher - a very young and attractive Mrs. Roberts who was from Liverpool, had an accent just like the Beatles and wore miniskirts and fancy fishnet stockings which she caught me admiring more than once. She claimed she had been to art school with John Lennon and was very forthcoming in sharing this bit of news with all us eager students. I believed her - no one could lie wearing stockings like that!

Who would have thought that after all these years I would still be a fan? But I am. I still play their music and follow the exploits of the remaining Beatles. And "with a little help from my friends" I can still harmonize after we have had a few too many and the hour is late. And who knows - maybe one of these days I'll invite all my friends over and we will have a little Beatles party. Now let me think - where did I put that wig?

The Notorious Miller, Porter and Brawn

There are many deeds done in this world by adults that can have long lasting consequences on innocent youth. Below is a list of the "exploits" of the three subjects named that at first view would have to be considered suspicious if not downright criminal:

1. Abduct young children and take them to an undisclosed location
2. Spend the weekend in the woods with some young boys
3. Show your "Willys" to the neighbourhood kids

Yet all three of these events happened to me before the tender age of twelve although no one ever went to jail and nothing but good ever came of the experience. How can this be? Maybe I should explain before anyone gets the wrong idea...

The first "suspect" in my story was Mr. Miller who went by the name of Walter. We lived in his house in Devon just after Dad got out of the army. Walter was a distant relative who owned a big house so we rented most of it while he and his son lived in one room as if they were just boarders. But it must have been a pretty good deal for them as Mom cooked their meals and looked after the house. Walter was a kind soul and offered to take me and my brother fishing a few times which is not unusual. What was unusual was the way he did it. Walter had a "secret" fishing hole and to get there we had to play along with his plan. We would have to crouch down on the floor in the back seat of his car and Walter would cover us with an old blanket while he drove a wild zig zag route to his secret spot. Only when we arrived at the fishing hole were we allowed to see where we were. We thought it was exciting and a real adventure and never even considered peeking. I still do not know to this day where we went but we caught a lot of fish and it was a lot of fun - as much for Walter as for us I suspect.

The next character was Mr. Brawn who was known to young and old alike as Norwood. He was an old friend of the family who ran a non-denominational People's Church that we had attended from time to time as young kids. Norwood bought an old farmhouse to convert into a bible camp which is still operating today. It is called Tay Valley Retreat. A couple of my school friends and I were invited by Norwood to go out to the site where he was just beginning to renovate the old house and clear brush etc. We jumped at the chance to spend a whole weekend cutting trees, burning brush and roughing it in the wild. Norwood allowed us to light kerosene lamps, cook on a wood stove, use real axes and even wash up in the morning in an icy stream. It was a dream come true! We all had a great time - felt like men and I think Norwood got some cheap labour out of us without us even knowing.

The final "suspect" in this little tale was named Marvin and he had an accomplice - together they were known as Mr. and Mrs. Porter. They were our next door neighbours in Devon and since I never had one, he seemed more like a grandfather to me. Lured to the scene by Mrs. Porter's home made cookies we were taken by surprise when Mr. Porter showed us his Willy! Well, to be more precise it was actually called a Willys - Mr. Porter owned a rare old car called a Willys Jeep and it was quite the antique! The only one I have ever seen let alone drive in. Mr. Porter took us for drives around the neighborhood in his Willys and always got us home on time - thanks to the wind up alarm clock he kept ticking away on the dash board. He and his wife were wonderful neighbours and treated all the neighbourhood kids like family.

Of course I am just having fun with this story but doesn't it illustrate how different the world has become? If one were to look back on these adventures with a different perspective it might appear that something sordid was happening. And believe me, I have even searched my memory over the years looking for those suppressed memories of abuse but sorry folks - it was just a case of good people showing us kids how to have fun.

Would I take young boys alone to my camp if I had one? Would I throw a tarp over two young boys in my back seat and drive around town? Would I even own a car called a Willys? I don't think so! But that is what these men did - they made us feel special and they gave us some wonderful memories. So that is why I want everyone to know about the deeds of the notorious Miller, Porter and Brawn.

Local Man Enjoys Morning Routine

Local Fredericton area man, Mac Haynes is what is commonly known as a regular guy. Most weekday mornings Mr. Haynes is awake before the alarm - practically bursting with anticipation at the prospect of another eventful day. First order of business is to get the coffee on. No time to waste as things begin to percolate in more ways than one for this man on the go.

A quick trip downstairs to his private bath is next on the itinerary. A refreshing shave and a shower find our man ready to face whatever is next on the agenda. Mac's routine soon awakens the rest of the family - but no problem with scheduling in this busy household which is conveniently furnished with two well appointed facilities.

Breakfast is the most productive meal of the day around the Haynes household and Mac makes sure that it is served on time and hot. What's on the menu today? Looks like a healthy serving of multigrain toast is just what the doctor ordered. Next up - Bran Flakes with a liberal sprinkling of flax seeds and wheat germ. Careful Mac - combined with that second cup of coffee that could be a lethal dose!

But the daily routine is not all work for our morning man. Before he heads out the door to face the world Mac is sure to spend a relaxing moment reading the newspaper while he contemplates the day ahead. Right on schedule he emerges smiling and feeling light as a feather - ready to face the rigors of the day. Have a good one, Mac - with a morning routine like this you can't lose!

More Flannel!

The following is a scene from a recent FA Meeting held at an undisclosed location. We hear the sound of chairs scraping, people clearing their throats, chatting in low voices. The meeting is called to order. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Leader: "Good evening everyone - we have a new member joining our meeting tonight. Please welcome him to Flannaholics Anonymous."

Everyone: "Welcome."

Leader: "Tell us about yourself - your past and how you came to be here."

Mac: "Uh - where do I start? My name is 'Mac' and I am a flannaholic. I can't believe how good it feels to say that out loud. I guess it all started when I got my first pair of pajamas. They were just cotton and I didn't even like them at first - I only wore them to make my parents happy. Then one day everything changed - it wasn't my fault, Mom just left it laying around and so I thought I would give it a try. I knew it was wrong but it was so warm and comforting and somehow it just felt... right - like an old friend. It was a flannel bathrobe!"

Leader: "It's OK Mac - keep going. We have all been there."

Mac: "Well, things went downhill pretty fast after that - pajamas just didn't do it for me anymore - before long I was mainlining flannel bedsheets and pillow cases. All day long I couldn't wait to get home and feed my need for flannel. And it didn't stop there - one day I tried on a pair of Dad's wool socks and I was hooked. Now I not only had a flannel monkey on my back but I needed a serious wool fix too. Oh God!"

Everyone: "Uh - can we take a break - it's getting kind of warm in here."

Leader: "No - let him finish. He has been through hell and this is a big step for him. Carry on."

Mac: "I tried to kick - I tried some of the synthetic stuff that was going around and even switched to flannelette for a while but I kept going back to the heavy stuff. You know what it's like - once a user always a user. I was out of control! It was like a fever and the only thing to cure me was - more flannel!"

Everyone: "Please stop! This is too painful!"

Mac: "No - let me finish. Eventually I started wearing wool socks and sweaters around the house. I am ashamed to say I convinced my poor innocent wife Julie to start knitting socks to feed my habit. I even bought a wool hat and scarf and recently I have started wearing flannel shirts to work... God help me!"

Leader: "OK Mac - maybe that is enough progress for tonight....."

There is the sound of a scuffle, chairs being knocked over and general chaos ensues. We hear a door being pulled open and with that 'Mac' flees into the cold night. He was found the next morning in bed, barely conscious, wearing flannel pajamas, 2 pairs of wool socks, between flannel sheets and covered by a wool throw rug. He is expected to recover.

* Note - there is hope for 'Mac' and others like him. He has recently been recruited by the Gratuitous Socks Foundation and is turning his life around to help others.