Find out more at Save Ivor Wynne Stadium dot com.

How early impressions, made a lasting impression for one little girl.

Saturday was my eldest’s second visit to Ivor Wynne Stadium. Browsing through some old images of her last trip to Ivor Wynne, going by her uncanny resemblance to our two year old (or vice versa), I realized it had already been two years since the first time daddy shared this very special place with his then little girl.

Now almost four, packing for our day trip was much less laborious. No stroller, no thermos full of warm milk, no toys, diapers or any such supplies. Just a camera, binoculars, and a big foam Tiger claw.

Dressed in our Oskee wee wee best, hand and hand without a care in the world, we walked over to the game early to enjoy the family day inflatable festivities at the adjoining Brian Timmins Stadium prior to the game.

“Look at that daddy” she admired, pointing over and beyond King George School at the stadium lights that shoot high above the rooftops.

“That’s where we are going, honey”, I smiled. If the anticipation of taking my girl hadn’t been enough, the excitement in her voice as we neared Ivor Wynne, had me grinning from ear to ear.

Before we left, my daughter had drawn a picture that she wanted to give to the ticket person at the football game. She handed it to the woman at the Will Call window, who with a big smile, expressed that ‘they don’t get many drawings’, and how ‘the walls could use some color’.

My daughter shyly smiled, but then started to cry; big sad tears and all. Apparently, daddy’s choice of footwear; purple Dora the Explorer Crocs, were not all that suitable for our 20 minute walk over to 75 Balsam Ave. She had a blister on her ankle from where the strap had rubbed up against her bare skin.

The very kind and sympathetic Will Call employees scrounged around in search of a band-aid, meanwhile a couple of sincere cheerleaders stopped to ask my daughter what was the matter. She stopped crying and looked up at the two girls standing over her with big, bright smiles. I imagined to her, they were like princesses which of course, are any girls favourite.

The game was still an hour-and-a-half from kick-off, and the Tiger-Cats organization had already turned a negative “I want to go home”, to a positive “I just met a princess” and “I have a new band-aid”.

TC (Tiger-Cat), one of two mascots (and our oldest), would be my daughters next positive impression at Ivor Wynne Stadium. Well, first was the balloon lady who made her a pretty flower, but as we rested in the grass amongst the inflatable carnival, she nervously watched on and up, as hoards of people surrounded her and TC, for some photo opportunities.

My daughter had been scared of both TC and our other mascot, Stripes, at her first ever game, and two years later, there was still a bit of an uneasy reserve as TC stood next to her. When he walked by her though and moved on to the next crowd of admirers, a giddy smile returned to her tear-filled face. Suddenly, forgetting her boo boo, she watched his every move as he wondered around the Brian Timmins grounds. For the rest of the day, she would continually ask me where the Tiger-Cats were. To her, the players on the field were just a bunch of men running around the field. TC and Stripes were the Tiger-Cats.

The injury kept my girl from enjoying the bouncy pre-game festivities, so we headed back into the stadium, found a bench under the bleachers, and enjoyed a hot dog before the game.

Carrying my wounded warrior, we headed up to our section 30 seats, and settled in with plenty of time to go before kick-off. Of course, the 5th largest outdoor video board in North America was the first thing that caught her eye.

“Daddy! Look at that.”

I took the camera out and the two of us spent the rest of the afternoon taking turns documenting our game day experiences.

There was so much for her curious eyes to take in as she looked around the stadium, first noticing the parachuter’s. She couldn’t understand why someone would willingly jump out of a plane, although she got a kick out of all the excitement as they made their way to centre field.

She admired the other planes from the Wartime Heritage Museum as well, never having seen an airplane fly so close to the ground except at an airport. Even I thought that was pretty cool.

The flag ceremony is impressive for adults and children alike, and my daughter loved seeing all those people holding onto the edges and gathered underneath the Canada flag that spanned the better part of the length and width of the field. It reminded her of a game her and her classmates played in her pre-school.

My shoeless babe had all but forgotten about her wound by this time, and was in awe of all the people and excitement surrounding her. The cheering, the music, and the Tiger roar. “Row!”, I always say to my girls at home. “Tiger-Cats.”

I am trying.

Just before half-time, we escaped downstairs for a bathroom break and some sight seeing. My daughter got quite a kick out of the many characters that make up the game day crowd, from funny wigs, a ‘big man’ on stilts, cheese heads, and of course, the now infamous (corn on the)‘Cobb’ heads inspired by our star running back, DeAndra’ Cobb.

“Look daddy. That man has cheese on his head.” I can only imagine what was going on in my little girls mind, as she took all of this in. When you really pause for a moment and look around, the football crowd is quite a motley crew.

“That’s silly”, she concluded with an equally as silly chuckle.

Later on in the game, I remembered that I had brought my binoculars and from that moment, the search was on for TC and Stripes. She knew where one or the other were pretty much the rest of the game.

“Look daddy! I found the Tiger-Cats.”

Besides her endless search for the striped mascots, another early game day impression had my daughter pointing to the Cheerleaders dancing on Tiger Vision and on the field, every time it was their turn to dance.

“Those are the girls you met before the game. Do you remember?

“Ya daddy”, she said with an exuberant smile.

Although the opening day return of the Tabbies wasn’t the outcome the home crowd had anticipated all winter long, Marcus Thigpen once again kept fans on the edge of their seats for the second week in a row, with a kick return to the house, and a second TD on offence. He has certainly become an early fan favourite this year.

We waited until most of the crowd exited, before making our way downstairs and back over to the inflatable carnival. After testing out a couple of ‘rides’, we grabbed a drink for the journey home.

It was nice being able to walk to the stadium together, and to enjoy rare moments between my big girl and I.

The day could have ended before it really began, but thanks to a certain Will Call lady and two very pretty and concerned cheerleaders who took a moment to comfort my little princess, it was a remarkable day for daddy and daughter.

Thank-you, Ticats.

One more cherished Ivor Wynne Stadium memory on what was another Beautiful Night(afternoon) for Football.

�

Daugher’s view of the game

My eldest daughter on her first to IWS

The folowing, is a link to my latest article as published on ‘Raise the Hammer’ in response to the dilemna surrounding the proposed new Hamilton stadium site.

There are some great comments following my story from many others who are dissapointed that our beloved stadium wasn’t even considered in this whole 2015 Pan Am Games process.

Below, is a video that coincides with this story. This presentation exhibits what is special about the area surrounding the current stadium, and it’s high accessibility to downtown and multiple highways.

As well,  the video shows how we could utilize adjacent lands (if we must build a new stadium), to construct a new venue in the neighborhood that Ivor Wynne currently calls home.

THE SCENE

Every Thursday is ‘The Scene’ at The Skydragon Center, where artists of many genres gather for an open mic night. From music, spoken word, and everything inbetween.

This Thursday, our band (the Devi’s Workshop) will open up ‘The Scene’ at 8′oclock for a set, before we open up the stage to anyone with something to say, sing, or show.

Come on out and have a few drinks, enjoy THE best veggie burger in the world (seriously), a great night of the arts in Hamilton.

The Skydragon is at 27 King William St, between James and John in downtown Hamilton.

Hope to see you there.

The Skydragon is at:
27 King William St
Hamilton, ON
Between John and James, one block north of King.

3 Words: believer, flavourful, lists
150 Word Limit

He had lists for everything. His entire day; his life, was bound by them. From lists detailing when each scheduled maintenance was due on their auto, to grocery lists. It drove Janice crazy.

Janice hated to complain about this seemingly harmless habit as the meals that were the result of the careful grocery lists he planned out, were quite flavourful. She also never had any issues with her car either. Jack always made sure of that. Her husband was a believer in staying on top of things. Was that really something to fault him for?

This time though, Jack had gone too far.

As Janice held his latest list in her hands, the one she had found in his pants pocket while doing HIS laundry, she read the two columns that topped the page.

Her Faults. Her strengths.

Under Jack’s list, Janice started her own.

To do:
File for divorce

Front and Back cover art.

To read the history behind this short story launch and to read the story, visit my other blog at http://www.abeautifulnightforfootball.com/blog/?p=360 or http://www.abnff.com/blog/?p=360.

Cheers,

Lawrence Thomas on Harp

We (Devils Workshop), are playing at the old Ricca’s Furniture Building on James St N again this Friday May 14th from 8-9pm (see directions here), as part of this months Art Crawl.

Come check out some amazing art, and see how the art’s community is changing James St N.

NOTE: New show added for this Thursday as well. Check out http://www.sellaband.com/storytime for details on this second (or 1st) show addition.

Cheers,

3 Words: skitter, supplement, demon
150 Word Limit

Sivais attempted to supplement an xxx ingredient for a slightly cheaper xxy one for the potion he was conjuring up. What harm could it possibly do? They more or less contained the same elements.

The concoction was to transform him into a fear-provoking demon, with a plan to take over the earth world.

The Council was handing out grants for fresh business startups to help booster the Denhag economy, and Siv (as he was known by his friends and close colleagues), knew his proposal was foolproof. Obviously Council didn’t know Siv.

Sivais could sell a whosit at a whatsit convention but the reality was, that he didn’t know his whatchamacallits from his thingamabobs.

As Siv stepped out his cottage door, he knew something had gone terribly wrong. His stride had turned to a skitter, and he felt gargantuan bucked teeth pressing down on his bottom lip.

“Great. A fear-provoking rabbit.”

It’s mid march, and I am back on the road again. I guess I can’t say that I am on the road with Julia (Cameron), as it is only Jack Kerouac that fills my pack on this trip. I always have one book or the other in my backpack for the daily commute back and forth to work, and today was Jack’s turn.

I am writing to you from not so sunny (well dark now as it’s 10:34pm), Windsor, just checking back into my hotel room after a few hour detour to Detroit to see a hockey game.

In all actuality, I guess you could truly say that I am on the road every day, as I would consider my 1.5 hour daily commute back and forth to work is almost like two little mini road trips a day. They can be eventful and if you love to people watch, there are so many stories to be told each and every day. If only I had the time, the stories I could tell. I do write down ideas as events inspire me so hopefully as the year plays out, I will be able to give some of my train adventures a page or two in this years blogging journal.

This is my first real ‘road trip’ though, since my crazy adventure down the I90 to Boston back on New Years. Windsor is a little closer and the event wasn’t quite as historic as that Legends Classic at Fenway Park, but the company you keep makes a road trip a ‘good’ trip more so than the reason for your travels, and both my mini-road trips today, were amongst good company and old friends.

Today’s overnight trip was actually for business purposes, but I won’t beat around the bush in saying that when I realized I needed to make this visit, I tried my best to plan it around finally seeing a NHL hockey game in Detroit.

A co-worker of mine from the Windsor area and myself, have been saying for years that we should catch a Wings game sometime but until tonight, we had never been able to make that happen. This trip seemed to be that opportunity so my friend and I finally made the arrangements, he hooked us up with some tickets, and now I have the memories of what is now a great rivalry, and seeing the historic JLA (Joe Louis Arena), up front and personal.

I won’t talk too much about the hockey game here, but it was quite an event. I never seen Gretzky play so the opportunity to see Crosby was something I wanted to make sure I jumped on in my adult years, and this turned out to be a great game to be at. The atmosphere was electric. It was like a playoff game. It was loud, and the funniest part of the game for me, was that every single time Sidney Crosby stepped on the ice, the crowd chanted ‘Cros-by sucks.’ I was quietly rooting for the Pens, but it was all in good fun. I was a good little visitor and did what the Roman’s do when they are in Rome – voted for the home team.

Mr. Hockey himself (Gordie Howe), was also present at the game, and the announcer as it turns out, was calling his 3,000th game so it was a fairly eventful night all and all.

I have a few souvenirs from the game to remember the event by, including the ticket stub and the free game-day program, but the one souvenir actually has nothing to do with hockey, except for maybe it’s ties to the game.

Who amongst us orders their Tim Horton’s coffee double cupped? Too damn hot to hold with your bare hands, I am a culprit of always ordering that extra layer when I go to Horton’s on the weekends. Well, I had to drive all the way to Detroit and order a coffee at the hockey game for this souvenir (and I’ll add I ordered a hot dog with my coffee instead of a donut which was fun all in itself), to finally see what a Tim Horton’s cup cozy would look like. Perhaps I’ll take a pic of it for those of you out there who have also never seen one. Why aren’t these in Canada? Even their lids are better engineered than ours. We may have perfected the coffee (if you can call it perfection), and the donuts (they are better than Krispy Kreemes any way), but the Americans stepped up with the lids and the cozies. Nicely done. A lid that actually snaps into place. Go figure.

‘Cozy, where have you been all my life.’

As for the actual road trip itself, there is a bit of significance to this one. Nothing earth shattering or anything, but this is the last road trip (I would imagine anyway), that the work van that I am driving will ever see. The felt on the roof is falling down, the power steering seems to be making a little noise, and the color has faded to show it’s years, not to mention that the odometer crossed the 250,o00 km’s threshold mid-trip this afternoon, but somehow the thing is still ticking.

This particular van has been in our department for quite sometime, and although I do not get out on the road much with work, I have done some traveling around Ontario within the old clunker both by myself, and with co-workers. Many of those trips, were first times traveling to those destinations. I have ventured to far off places like Cobourg, Huntsville, Peterborough, Windsor, Kingston, Ottawa, Niagara, and Toronto. I have seen some roads with the old beast, so I guess it’s kind of special in some weird way, to be sharing in if not the last trip, at least one of the last trips this van well ever see dressed in blue and yellow.

Cars to me have always been about memories. When you part with them, yes they have been causing you grief and money and in the end you know it’s time to say goodbye, but in those last days of ownership, the memories do come back that were shared amongst the mobile cabin. Even though this is just a work van, it too holds some fond memories.

Friendships and new bonds are created amongst co-workers on trips such as these. There is always work conversation to be had, but when you are sharing a vehicle for 3 or more hours, that conversation always leads into the family life and you are truly able to get to know your co-workers a lot better. Understand them more, and to add a stronger friendship, outside that ‘co-worker’ title that your relationship may have only previously known. After all, you see these people more than your family, and certainly more than your friends. If you can build strong friendships amongst the work environment, work can be that much more rewarding.

I will have been at my present company for twelves years in just over a months time, and when I look back at some of the fond memories of these past years, the road trips both with co-workers and even just by myself to visit co-workers, have been some of the most memorable moments. Quite possibly because I have always loved hitting the open road which was my biggest attraction to Jack’s book (On the Road), but I know it also has a great deal to do with some of the friendships that I have built both with internal co-workers, and the ones I have made with my colleagues from around the province.

Even during the hardest of times at work where I didn’t know if I wanted to remain or start looking elsewhere, it was these friendships that made the difference in wanting to stay, and not passing GO and just taking my money and running for new opportunities. I still don’t know some days if this will be where I hang my hat forever, but I do know that I will never forgot the friendships I have made here, and I can only hope that if I do one day make the move, that some of these friendships will be everlasting.

Well I guess I can finally say that a quarter of my way through this 2010 project,  I have finally truly sent a post out into cyberspace that I didn’t check and re-write a dozen times. Isn’t that what blogging is supposed to be anyway? I think I look too much into it like I do everything else. It is nice to just blurt what’s on your mind out once in awhile. I think I’ll try this a little more often.

Well, time to get some sleep. An early start to the day tomorrow.

Until the next road trip.

Photo by Lawrence Thomas

It was a picturesque, blue sky, no clouds, sunny Monday morning. 

The skies had been bright for the better part of a week. It was the kind of day that if I was dying, I imagine I would think about how I’d miss beautiful days like this. The freshness in the air, the sounds of spring songbirds, the happiness that this time of year brings to the faces on our streets, the curious little noses coming out of winters hibernation; creatures and humans alike. The kind of days when the once sleeping winter world, seemed so alive and free again. 

I had noticed the night prior, that a friend had sent me a Facebook request, suggesting that I join a group dedicated to helping find someone who had gone missing. These kinds of group invitations happen all too frequently. Not to take away from their importance, but up until that moment, those missing persons requests had not been anyone I had known personally. 

It wasn’t until the next morning, that I had a chance to login to read the message. All I had seen on my mobile device the night prior, was ‘MISSING PERSON: PLEASE HELP…’. This time, I knew who the missing person was. 

She was more of a friend of a friend sort of acquaintance. I had known her in this manner since high school. I always thought that she was as an attractive, fun, and charming girl. A bit of a rebel, but loved by all who knew her.  

I had talked to her briefly in recent months, as we re-connected through Facebook. It was more of a Hi, good to see you on here, how has it been, kind of catch up. Typical of many Facebook re-acquaintances’ between those we never really knew all that well. You browse through some photographs, and laugh in remembrance at the old photos from back in the days when they weaved more frequently in and out of your life. 

Fast forward to just a few weeks ago, when this friend added me to  Facebook again. I hadn’t noticed she had left and I didn’t get a chance to say hello again, before I realized I would never get another opportunity. 

Drawing by Lawrence Thomas

I started chatting with the creator of the Facebook group that morning; a close friend of the missing woman. I shared a few back and forth messages with her, explained how I knew her friend, and that I was thinking of her family and friends during this difficult time. She was understandably upset, yet optimistic of finding her friend and for her safe return home. 

I received a call later that morning however, informing me that the search was over. This acquaintance had ended her life. Her child, her family, and her friends, were all left with an empty space and a grief I can only begin to imagine. She had not known the happiness and hope that this spring-like Monday morning would offer us. 

A co-worker had also known this friend. He is the same age and a former classmate of hers. I couldn’t stop thinking of that phone call all day, and when I caught up with my work friend much later that evening, he talked about how deeply he had been bothered by this horrible truth as well. 

It makes you think of your own life. How far down we have been or currently are. How close we may have come, to something in our own lives pushing us over that sanity edge. 

You look at groups such as this, browse the old photos posted by friends and family, read the heartfelt messages on the wall, the poetry, the song dedications, and you think to yourself How does someone surrounded by so much love, end up in a mental place that makes them feel like there is no way out, but up? That life is not worth living. That the only ending, is an out of body beginning? 

The sun is shining brightly. It’s warm. My jacket is unbuttoned. No gloves. No toque. No more long, dark, cold, winter days. A new season. A new beginning. New inspiration. 

For one beautiful yet troubled soul however, even all of natures hope was not enough to continue in this life. 

Human’s desire to hide much of their lives, to keep so much of themselves, their thoughts, their fears, dreams, hopes, heartaches, financial and relationship woes to themselves – I just don’t understand it. Not that I am always the most open person, but why do we allow ourselves to feel like we are alone in these thoughts? 

Photo by Lawrence Thomas

What is wrong with admitting that my wife and I had a really bad fight last night. I wanted to say it was over. I was so mad, but then I went for a long walk with the dog. When I returned home, the anger was gone, I said I was sorry (even though I wasn’t totally convinced that I had done anything wrong), we hugged, and all was good in the world for another day.  

Or, I broke up with my girlfriend last night. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I am lost and lonely. I hate this feeling, although a large part of me knows it was the right thing to do. Why does this hurt so much? 

How would those words be received by your friends or your readers? How would it feel to someone who was lost in a loneliness similar to yours, to know that there was at least one other person in the world, feeling as poignant as they were at that moment? 

If you are a fan of the weekly night time drama House, last week’s patient of focus, played by Laura (Jackie) Prepon of That 70’s Show fame, was a blogger. Much to her husbands disapproval, there were few aspects of her life (their lives), that weren’t open for all the world to read. She felt no reason to hide her life. To her, there was much more to be gained and learned from others and in turn, so much she could offer her readers from her own life’s experiences. 

As it turned out, it was actually those blog posts that helped House’s team of doctors, determine what was wrong with her. Yet, it was the one thing she hid about her health that meant the difference of a cancer diagnosis with a few days to live, to some medication and a valve transplant, and the rest of her life ahead of her. 

You can understand why bowel movements wouldn’t be a topic many of us would jump to share, but it was obviously one thing above everything else, that she should have at least communicated with her husband or doctor. 

In recent years, I too have found that life is much more rewarding and more fulfilling, when you aren’t afraid to share who you truly are deep inside with the world. Good or bad. Communication has never been my strong suit. I won’t beat around the bush, but as I learn to open up and surround myself with souls willing to share all of themselves with me, I have learned so much about myself. Most importantly, that I am not alone. 

Recently, our family hit a low point when we started seeing payments for various things bounce. My wife had quit her job six months ago to stay home with our two children, and to run a home daycare. I supported her decision 100%, but as is the case with most new businesses, it took awhile to build a steady client base. Ensuring first and foremost, that our new daily guests fit in perfectly with our family; including our crazy dog who likes to join in on daily play. 

We were struggling to make ends meet in recent months, with fewer options left to balance the mortgage, car payments, credit card debt, and utility and grocery bills. We were both stressed and stretched to the limit.

Then one day I walked by a Money Mart, and just when it seemed that all options were used up, there was at least one more.  

I was embarrassed to go in there that first time and up until recently, at my wife’s request, nobody knew that we had to result to payday loans to keep the bottom from falling out. The way my wife and I ultimately looked at it though, was that it was a few dollars cheaper than NSF charges, and certainly easier on the old credit score. 

We had to count on this quick cash option a few times over a two or three month span before my wife’s daycare was fully on its feet. I can’t help but wonder now, what might have happened if things hadn’t turned around when they did? Money in advance was surely going to catch up to us. We were safe for another day. 

I know we are not alone in the day-to-day troubles we face as a young family, but how many people that  seem to, from the smiles they paint on each day, have everything going for them on the outside, are actually in a similar or possibly even worse situation than you or I?  

What does hiding the truth about our relationship and financial issues truly gain us? What is so embarrassing about hitting rock bottom? Why do we need to feel like we have failed the ones we love, that there is no way out, that we are alone in the loneliness of our secret lives. Is failure actually losing your house, a broken marriage, or getting fired from your job, or is failure going through these difficult times alone?  

Standing outside the viewing room door, lined up down the hall. Family, friends, and acquaintances, waiting to pay their respects. On her coffin, flowers and a few photos. Pictures ranging from youth, to more recent photos, including one of her young child. All of them memories of a life no more.

Crying, stories, laughter of past times together. Old friends. The old gang. Not the reunion any of them had envisioned.  

She was the third person I had personally known, to take their own life. One, a family member, the second one, was also a friend of a friend. Both of them had ended their lives in their own homes for their children to discover their lifeless bodies. If there was ever any consolation to suicide, it could be that at least this last friend, went away to end their life. That still doesn’t take away from the fact however, that all of them left children behind. In all their innocence, left with the haunting, lifetime memories, that their mother or father had killed themselves.  

That parent would not be there to watch them graduate, see them off to college, walk them down the aisle or cry in the front row when they get married. They will never hold their grandchildren, or be there to enjoy sleepovers with kids you get to give back, or so many of the other firsts that watching a child through a grandparents eyes offers. These children will never know what it feels like, to share in the moments a child longs to one day enjoy with their parents – especially watching them interact with their own children.  

BANG! SNAP! SLICE! Three lives gone. 

You are not alone, is the message we need to share with one another; desperately. Money, material things, broken romance; there is nothing  you cannot get over with the help of a friend, family member, and the admission as a society, that it’s not only okay to share your dreams and fears with the world around you, but it’s the key to a healthier, happier, life more fulfilled.   

~

I dated a woman once who I had only known for a short while, who shared some of her deepest, darkest moments of her then recent past with me. This particular piece isn’t directly related to this post, but I though it relevant to share her story at this time.   

Jessica made me realise what could be gained from being honest about the fears and pain we hold inside. I learned so much from her in the short time I knew her, but she would inspire me forever, for the truths she so openly shared with me during that brief friendship.   

Now she is happily married. Her son, who was just two when I met her, has grown into a handsome and pleasant young man. She had seen the darkest of days from a broken marriage, post partum depression, raising her little boy all by herself, losing both her mother and father, and yet by sharing her fears with the world, she learned from her wounds, grew from them, and eventually found happiness and a soul to share her life with. Because of her, I know that there is hope beyond all the pain and suffering this world can sometimes throw at us.   

For one friend however, there is no happy ending.   

Nothing can bring her back, and there should be no feelings of guilt. If there is blame to be felt, it should be by society as a whole; the realization that, with all that we know about life and the world and with all of the technology we have at our disposal to share that knowledge, there are still broken souls out there. Lost. Alone.   

I am afraid. You are not alone.   

It is the message we need to send.

Here is a link to an early draft of the short Love and Honesty.