Memories of Easter.
First there were Easter baskets hidden in the dishwasher. The Easter Bunny a.k.a worlds best dad used to come up with great hiding places and the dishwasher was one of the most memorable. Unlike my kids I only got candy in my basket, although I do remember a large, inflatable pink bunny. Now, what goes in baskets and how big to make them is a surprisingly controversial topic amongst my friends. The "no candy" camp prefers mainly toys, the "it's not a big deal" camp prefers mainly candy no toys. I've been stashing bits and pieces of things since Boxing Day sales, not that I mind candy, we have plenty of that too, it's just that I'm creative and like gift giving occasions. And I'm a great shopper as well so I really enjoy it.
Speaking of gift giving occasions, I've had to create my own. I have no idea if Passover is a gift giving occasion or not but come next Tuesday in my house it's going to be "Panties for Passover." See, my Huggyband's birthday is in December and somehow as a child he was traumatized by combined birthday/Christmas presents and worse yet underwear and socks as presents. So he's pretty adamant that underclothes of any variety don't count as gifts. I'm not. I'm practical. And since I can't give them as Christmas or birthday presents I've had to come up with creative reasons to give them, hence "Socks for Hanukkah" and "Panties for Passover." What that means is that last Hanukkah everyone in my family got a new package of socks lovingly wrapped in blue tissue paper. Fortunately they all laughed. Now here we are at Easter and since I can't stuff underwear in baskets I'm just borrowing Passover as an excuse to give it to them.
But meanwhile back to the past. Easters as a kid where pretty routine, baskets, frilly dresses, church and a ham dinner. No family nearby meant that it was usually just the 3 of us and that was fine. Everything is fine when there are chocolate eggs and trifle involved. When I was 7 I think we billeted hockey players for an annual international tournament. Billeting is a Canadian thing. Americans, at least my husband, have never heard of the word or the concept. Anyways, it means to put someone up for a night or so. What the kids would call "couch surfing" now. Good excuse to show some hospitality.
That hockey tournament would wind it's way back in to my life in the mid 90s. St. John's was responsible for providing first aid coverage at every single one of those hockey games throughout the entire tournament. Hockey in Kamloops in the spring; freezing cold arenas, early mornings, lots of coffee, lots of injuries, great people. One year in particular stands out. The nephew of a beloved "may as well be" uncle was coming from Saskatchewan to play in the tourney. The uncle and his family were coming in to town for it as well so it only made sense that I offer to do coverage for that particular team so that I could be of service and hang out with the family. The problem was that I had never met this hockey playing "may as well be"cousin or his dad. My plan for the very first morning was to scan the crowd for the man who looked the most like my uncle, introduce myself to him and we'd be all set. Well, as an only child there's some things I'll never be able to figure out, such as how siblings can look and act so different from each other. None of the parents of the Saskatchewan team looked anything like my uncle. My Uncle is a small guy and all of these men were big. My second choice was to talk to the friendliest looking parent and get them to point me in the right direction. Well the second choice turned out to be the right choice because when I told the friendly looking man who I was and why I was looking for Mr. G he laughed and said "Cass I AM Mr. G! You're uncle is my brother!' Laughter all around, soon my uncle and his family joined us and we were on our way to the next game. Turns out that the hockey playing cousin was playing with a broken arm and really shouldn't have been playing but it was a good opportunity for scouts to see him. It was also a good opportunity for the other teams to take advantage of his injury. We all watched him be cross checked into the boards and watched as a ref DIDN'T watch. My Uncle's family is French Canadian; they're all fluent in it including a young cousin in French immersion. When A was cross checked both his Dad and Uncle let forth a stream of curses in French and started yelling at the ref in French. My youngest cousin was standing in front of me and I clamped my hands over her ears to protect them. Good times, good times.
Easter would get even better when I discovered God and the amazing play that helped me find him. Tell you what? Let me work privately at the memories of Alive Again for a while and then I'll share them. Stay tuned!
Join our favorite not-so-young heroine as she "plunges" (cue MOPS graphic) in to homeschooling, American culture and relationships.
Warning and welcome!
Warning! This is NOT your little sisters blog! If you're looking for the latest review of the Anthropologie catalogue, or a linky party or even an instagram photo you are in the wrong place. What I've got is the popcorn-for-dinner, teenage-daughter-as-a-different-species, homeschooling, hospicing kind of life and that's exactly what I intend to write about. So sit down on a sticky chair, pull up a cup of tea that you've rewarmed in the microwave 3 times and have a laugh at the Further Adventures of Cassie Canuck; homeschool edition.
Showing posts with label hockey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hockey. Show all posts
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
The good old hockey game
When you make the decision to leave home you understand that you will miss certain things. There are the tangible things; the nouns like family, that great ice cream shop around the corner and grandmas jell-o "stuff" at Christmas.
In Korea I expected not to have many, many familiar things. And was always overjoyed beyond belief when I discovered them. Much to my surprise Korea did have Walmart (much different than at home) and Costco (eerily exactly the same as at home, right down to the dryer sheets. Problem was KOREA DOESN'T HAVE DRYERS!). Ahhhhhhhh but the scent was familiar.... Turns out it's possible to miss the scent of a laundry room and very, very possible to miss washers and dryers- that's a whole nother post for a whole nother day..........
Things that are available in Canada but not the US is again another blog for another day.
The concrete things you can prepare yourself to live without. You know it's part of the deal of leaving. But then there are the intangibles; the unique feelings and experiences that come with a place. Like eating breakfast on the back deck of your house, or how the sunrise or sunset looks from a certain spot on the road at a certain time of day. Leaving and missing the experiences is a bit harder than leaving the stuff. Stuff can be sent in, stuff can be replicated. Experiences and sensory things can't.
One of the experience things I didn't expect to miss, or maybe didn't even know I'd have to, is hockey. I'm probably stereotyping all Canadians when I say that hockey is part of our cultural fabric, it's part of who we are. I'm sure that there is a great number of Canadians who could care less about the game but we won't talk about them for now. Besides, I grew up in Kamloops BC where Ken Hitchcock once said that "hockey isn't a sport it's a way of life."
It was a HUGE way of life for me for many years. The worlds best dad jokes that he started taking me to games as soon as I was old enough to go to the bathroom by myself. I remember early years in an arena I'm not sure is still standing. Barn like with low glass and freezing cold. It had a lower level that was dark and cavernous, housed the smoking section (thick clouds of smoke) , bathrooms and concession stands. Now that I think of it I was probably a little afraid of the downstairs.
Later (93?) a new facility was built. I don't dare name it because I'm pretty sure it's gone through a few name changes over the years. Like a lot of local places, what people refer to it as, depends on what it was called when they were involved in it. This makes it very confusing to people who are new in town and find that one building or business can have multiple names depending on the age of the person you're asking.
For many years I had a privilege of being a part of St. John Ambulance; an amazing organization that I'm still very proud of. We provided first aid coverage to the local junior hockey teams home games. Not the actual players mind you just the fans who got hurt during the course of a game. And remember those were the years pre-nets. Lead by a much loved first aid mentor, his personality was as colorful as the red socks he wore. The other night I was wondering where an adult man finds red socks?
So hockey is what I "did" every Friday and Saturday night for years. Starting in the very early fall when it was hot outside but freezing cold inside (it doesn't matter if you were wearing shorts before you got there, early season hockey in small arenas means that the ice has to be kept cold so you'd better bundle up.) Running, if we were very, very lucky to Victoria Day. I once missed Easter dinner because of a game that went into quadruple overtime. My mom served dinner without me but a kindly uncle who was a police officer and knew what it meant to miss a family meal because of being "on duty" kept a plate warm for me.
It didn't matter that I didn't understand all the intricacies of the game because really it was less about the sport and more about the social thing. The bad loud music, the even worse arena food. Doing laps around the concourse between periods trying to see and be seen. The little kid thrill of having the local team come to your school. Hockey was a game that everyone knew how to play. Something we could all agree on at recess. I wonder if my kid will ever play floor hockey? Even now I'll pass a farmers frozen pond and expect to see a pick up game on it.
Don't get me wrong obviously there is hockey in the US. It's just that despite all the states we've lived in over the years I've yet to live in an area that truly appreciates the game. Yes there is an NLH franchise 2 hours away and I've heard there's some good junior hockey in the area as well. But since I'm married to the LEAST sports minded male in the United States my chances of going to a live game are nil and none (or as slim as whatever underdog team making the playoffs) . However the other night I caught a game that just happened to pit a former Kamloops player and his former Kamloops coach against each other on TV. Watching it with my 2 boys I found myself answering for the first time the question of "why are they fighting?" Oooooooooh never thought about that parenting dilemma. Hockey from a parents point of veiw. Fortunately there were easily distracted by the hunt to find things to use as hockey sticks so they could re-play the game in the playroom.
The Olympics are coming. Waaaaaaaaaay more on that later. I'm sure that I'll get my hockey fix then Although... I'm the victim of American networks so it will all be with the US slant. Trying to see if I can pick up CBC on line for some live coverage of stuff. Last night I had the good fortune of coming across the following Coke commercial on you tube. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3vYFIufNoBo Ahhhhhhhh the good old hockey game!
In Korea I expected not to have many, many familiar things. And was always overjoyed beyond belief when I discovered them. Much to my surprise Korea did have Walmart (much different than at home) and Costco (eerily exactly the same as at home, right down to the dryer sheets. Problem was KOREA DOESN'T HAVE DRYERS!). Ahhhhhhhh but the scent was familiar.... Turns out it's possible to miss the scent of a laundry room and very, very possible to miss washers and dryers- that's a whole nother post for a whole nother day..........
Things that are available in Canada but not the US is again another blog for another day.
The concrete things you can prepare yourself to live without. You know it's part of the deal of leaving. But then there are the intangibles; the unique feelings and experiences that come with a place. Like eating breakfast on the back deck of your house, or how the sunrise or sunset looks from a certain spot on the road at a certain time of day. Leaving and missing the experiences is a bit harder than leaving the stuff. Stuff can be sent in, stuff can be replicated. Experiences and sensory things can't.
One of the experience things I didn't expect to miss, or maybe didn't even know I'd have to, is hockey. I'm probably stereotyping all Canadians when I say that hockey is part of our cultural fabric, it's part of who we are. I'm sure that there is a great number of Canadians who could care less about the game but we won't talk about them for now. Besides, I grew up in Kamloops BC where Ken Hitchcock once said that "hockey isn't a sport it's a way of life."
It was a HUGE way of life for me for many years. The worlds best dad jokes that he started taking me to games as soon as I was old enough to go to the bathroom by myself. I remember early years in an arena I'm not sure is still standing. Barn like with low glass and freezing cold. It had a lower level that was dark and cavernous, housed the smoking section (thick clouds of smoke) , bathrooms and concession stands. Now that I think of it I was probably a little afraid of the downstairs.
Later (93?) a new facility was built. I don't dare name it because I'm pretty sure it's gone through a few name changes over the years. Like a lot of local places, what people refer to it as, depends on what it was called when they were involved in it. This makes it very confusing to people who are new in town and find that one building or business can have multiple names depending on the age of the person you're asking.
For many years I had a privilege of being a part of St. John Ambulance; an amazing organization that I'm still very proud of. We provided first aid coverage to the local junior hockey teams home games. Not the actual players mind you just the fans who got hurt during the course of a game. And remember those were the years pre-nets. Lead by a much loved first aid mentor, his personality was as colorful as the red socks he wore. The other night I was wondering where an adult man finds red socks?
So hockey is what I "did" every Friday and Saturday night for years. Starting in the very early fall when it was hot outside but freezing cold inside (it doesn't matter if you were wearing shorts before you got there, early season hockey in small arenas means that the ice has to be kept cold so you'd better bundle up.) Running, if we were very, very lucky to Victoria Day. I once missed Easter dinner because of a game that went into quadruple overtime. My mom served dinner without me but a kindly uncle who was a police officer and knew what it meant to miss a family meal because of being "on duty" kept a plate warm for me.
It didn't matter that I didn't understand all the intricacies of the game because really it was less about the sport and more about the social thing. The bad loud music, the even worse arena food. Doing laps around the concourse between periods trying to see and be seen. The little kid thrill of having the local team come to your school. Hockey was a game that everyone knew how to play. Something we could all agree on at recess. I wonder if my kid will ever play floor hockey? Even now I'll pass a farmers frozen pond and expect to see a pick up game on it.
Don't get me wrong obviously there is hockey in the US. It's just that despite all the states we've lived in over the years I've yet to live in an area that truly appreciates the game. Yes there is an NLH franchise 2 hours away and I've heard there's some good junior hockey in the area as well. But since I'm married to the LEAST sports minded male in the United States my chances of going to a live game are nil and none (or as slim as whatever underdog team making the playoffs) . However the other night I caught a game that just happened to pit a former Kamloops player and his former Kamloops coach against each other on TV. Watching it with my 2 boys I found myself answering for the first time the question of "why are they fighting?" Oooooooooh never thought about that parenting dilemma. Hockey from a parents point of veiw. Fortunately there were easily distracted by the hunt to find things to use as hockey sticks so they could re-play the game in the playroom.
The Olympics are coming. Waaaaaaaaaay more on that later. I'm sure that I'll get my hockey fix then Although... I'm the victim of American networks so it will all be with the US slant. Trying to see if I can pick up CBC on line for some live coverage of stuff. Last night I had the good fortune of coming across the following Coke commercial on you tube. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3vYFIufNoBo Ahhhhhhhh the good old hockey game!
Labels:
coke commercial,
dryer sheets,
hockey,
homesick,
Kamloops,
Korea,
NHL,
Olympics,
St. John Ambulance
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