Foremost on my Mind: Resolutions for the Rich and Famous

This is the first column of 2014, so I want to personally welcome you to the New Year. I don't know if I have the power to do that, but I do have a keyboard and a platform, so here it flies. In light of last week's glorious column, I hope you are still working on some personal goals (known only at this time of year as “resolutions”) that you have set for yourselves.

Good for you, and may you have success in losing those pounds, wrinkles, clutter, and anger.

Because of the generosity of my spirit, I thought I would make even more New Year's resolutions, but this time, I will do it for others. You see, I am assuming that some of the following name-brand people have made their own, but, hey, they may be too busy—you know, too consumed with their own egotistical pursuits—that they haven't the time to consider any genuine personal improvements.

A number of celebrities come to mind, so space may be a problem. The following characters have stood out in recent months, and all but one in a bad way. We'll see just where my fingers take me.

So, in no particular order, here goes the good will gesture by yours truly:

1. For Rob Ford, mayor of Toronto, I wish the following: A very good weight-loss programme, a sense of integrity, and a brand-new job. He has shamed himself, the honour of his office, the city of Toronto, and the rest of Canada. The last one gives me an opening through which to speak.

I remember the day when most professionals and politicians carried themselves with a certain degree of class. They were people we could look up to—not look out for. Rob Ford has failed this litmus test at every level, repeatedly. Furthermore, whether any of the criminal whispers are true, I cannot say. That, of course, is yet another reason why he must go.

2. For any specific females (can't say “women” or “ladies”) that go by the name of Beyoncè, Brittany, Kim, or Miley, I wish the following: I wish they would get dressed properly when they go out in public. And in Miley's case, if she could keep her tongue in her mouth, that would be great.

Now, before you fall off the couch, thinking that I am actively pursuing their bawdy careers, breathe in slowly. Stay on the couch while I reassure you that I am not. It's just that when I look at the news on my computer, their images pop up all the time, no matter what my news source is. It's both disturbing and disgusting.

I often feel sullied and scandalized after viewing the news, because these women are front and behind (pun mercilessly intended) with their latest photo ops --or would that be “oops”? I don't ask for it, I don't need it, and I don't want it, but it's flaunted before my eyes anyway. Their lewd antics, known by so many fans and offended observers, are unhealthy, unwise, and unreal.

3. For Dennis Rodman, I wish the following: Could someone tell him to please sit down, shut up, and stay out of North Korea? They don't need any more morons over there. North Korea remains one of the most severely repressive states in all the global communities, and it is an enemy of democratic freedom, true religion, free speech, and economic reform. To kowtow with Prince Pudgyface is a shame and a disgrace to all rational people everywhere.

If Dennis wants to do any good whatsoever, tell him to talk to President Him So Fat about the horrific prison conditions for the people that simply want democratic freedom, true religion, free speech, and economic reform. Under the present arrangement, Rodman is a moral and babbling buffoon.

Rodman himself, a former marginal professional basketball player, has a track record of very strange behaviour, both on the court and off.. Everyone is entitled to strange behaviour, I suppose, but there is no place for making it a national norm. If he chooses a certain lifestyle, or if he wants to tattoo himself to the point he looks like a mural, that's his privilege. But for him to represent the USA in any way is unconscionable.

4. And for Phil Robertson, I wish the following: Keep speaking up. Phil, of the Duck Dynasty fame, expressed his opinion on same-sex relationships recently. You know the story, so I won't bore you with further details. It's irrelevant whether I agree with him or even how he did it.

Because of the senseless and heartless agenda of the same-sex proponents, this becomes news. It's just another critical flashpoint in the war of morality—fodder for another column, unless Stalin is back in power before then. My point is that Robertson has the same right to express his opinion as the other guys do. May there be more like him.

Like, say, what happens here once in a while in your local column in southern Alberta,.

Foremost on my Mind: A Brand-new Year

One of the embedded traditions of the Christmas season, just after the turkey(s) at the table and Christmas spirit(s), is that of New Year's resolutions. You know, those promises to lose weight, spend less money on stupid toys, be nice to the jerks in your life, and smile more.

Coming from a sincere (and maybe even desperate) motive, most well-intentioned New Year's Resolutions last for usually for a week--two weeks at the most. It's at that point that everything crashes, including one's self-esteem—and we tend to cover up our guilt by, you guessed it, gaining weight, spending more, and actually being meaner to the very people we wanted to be nice to. And crying behind our smiles.

Not quite sure where this practice came from, but in the main, it's a good one. I'm talking about the promises to be be better, not the crashing and burning. Striving for realistic excellence in relationships, money, and lifestyle, is good, not bad.

Read that again: It involves the quest for “excellence,” something that is missing in most disciplines these days; and it likewise needs a heavy dose of “realism.” Highfalutin aspirations are impressive-sounding, but are dangerous emotional landmines. To carry that metaphor further, dashing recklessly through a field of unseen and unknown bombs may appear to be noble, but it can be a disaster.

One must be careful not to promise the moon, but end up only delivering moonbeams.

I have my own New Year's resolutions. But because this is a public newspaper column and not a private diary, my comments must be somewhat muted, discreet, and vague. Don't like those rules, as such, but they are rules of something once known as common sensibility and sensitivity, and that I like.

On a slightly different note, that's why I hate reality television shows and newspaper tabloids: They exhibit petty, personal, and private affairs (pun mercilessly intended) that have no business being in the public arena. You might say what happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom.

So my spin on New Year's resolutions is simple: “Promises I mean to keep” could (and should?) also be made by the guy next door, the woman down the street, and, well, you (and me, too). If you don't agree with me, then either I have read the culture wrong and we're in much better shape than I think, or we're all fooling ourselves.

At this point, if I got it wrong, I think it's for the latter reason.

Losing weight and saving money are, of course, the standard resolutions. But I would rank them third and fourth. Character and relationships would be number one and two, respectively, in my opinion. (Notice how I soften my perspective with those helpful words “in my opinion”?)

Character is what you are when no one is looking; reputation is what you are when they are looking. Character is what you are when the lights are out; reputation is what you are when the lights are on. Character is an inner reality that expresses itself outwardly when it has a chance to; reputation has no inward basis.

What I need to do—and you do too, if you're alive—is to work on what (and who) we really are, namely, our character. For example, don't appear to not lie; just simply love the truth. Don't simply avoid smut and vice; just love virtue. Pursuing the positive will not allow much room for the negative. Is it that simple? Hardly. But it's a great start, a new beginning—a new year, if you will.

Good character then easily leads to healthy relationships. If I am transparent, honest, selfless, and such (all character traits), then these will impact my dealing with others. Good character, a personal quest, will always foster good relationships, an inter-personal goal.

My transparency, honesty, and selflessness are no-brainers when it comes to dealing with spouse, children, neighbours, and colleagues. Happier homes, better neighbourhoods, and productive workplaces would then follow. This is good, not bad; this is uplifting, not degrading.

Men and women of integrity matter; robust relationships at every level matter. Realistic excellence is the primary goal that I have set for myself, and I would like you to join me. Target an area in your soul where there is a need for some improvement, set a manageable goal to change it, chip away at it—then look for some rewarding results!

One place you'll see it is in your renewed relationships. Then it truly will be a brand-new year for one and all.

Foremost on my Mind: Let it Snow

I love Christmas as much as the next guy, so it's easy to get caught up in the balls, bells, bills, and bowls of the season. You may need to read that first line again: I actually do like all the sounds, colours, touches, tastes, and smells (all five senses, by the way) that come with this festive season.

You can have Christmas without the nonsense that passes for Christmas today, but you can't have it without snow. Well, you can, but I'm writing from an emotional perspective right now: You can hear the crunch of snow underfoot, you can see the white stuff everywhere, you can certainly touch it, you can taste it (just make sure it's not yellow), but I have no idea what snow smells like. (Let me insert the smell of a freshly-cut pine tree for argument purposes.)

Perhaps my favourite set of Christmases, other than many out here in the prairies (when there is snow), was in a small village BC's interior, called 100 Mile House. Back then and there, my life for the most part was a lot simpler, the kids were a lot younger, and there was plenty of, you guessed it, snow. It was light, fluffy, and fun to play in.

Christmas has lost a lot of its simplicity for me these days, though at least if there's snow, it covers up the barrenness of the season—witty play on words intended.

One of my struggles is with the commercialization and secularization of the season. There is so much emphasis on the wrong things these days—or maybe it's just simply “things.” We tend to get mixed up in what the real season is all about: In the minds of many, Santa Claus has replaced Jesus Christ; and if he hasn't, then we just simply cross (“X”) Him out (so Christmas becomes “Xmas”).

Note, I said Santa Claus, not some alleged Dutch man that went by the name of St. Nick so many decades ago. Maybe that's where this myth started.

Whoever and whatever he was, I don't believe he resembled the fat, bearded dude that drives a chariot (thanks, Beach Boys), pulled by eight reindeer, eats cookies, kisses Mom, and runs over grandmas--and drinks Coke when the advertising agencies deem it necessary.

Before you get your collective hackles up, let me encourage you to lighten up. Yes, this is a direct yet warmhearted column, a friendly shot at one of the classic icons of this season. You see, while Christmas can be a highly-strained, expensive, and emotional time of the year for most of us, it can have its moments of peace, joy, and good will to all men (and women) at the same time.

The myth of Santa Claus is pretty well in a class all of its own, mostly because it touches a nerve with anyone who really sees clearly Whom he's imitating. You see, when I read or sing about Ole Saint Nick (thanks again, Beach Boys), I see those qualities in Someone else.

Santa is portrayed as knowing all; he is seen as being almost everywhere at the same time; and certainly has power over people. Wordsmiths and theologians would identify those traits as omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent—qualities reserved for that one Person.

My angst is that that simple birthday 2000 years ago, with incalculable and eternal ramifications, has been largely set aside. In other words, what happened outside of Bethlehem then has no resemblance to what is happening now.

Even Bible-believing Christians, like myself, are not guiltless: Never enough time, money, or energy for the things that really matter at Christmas (or so it seems). Misplaced time, money, and energy is often drained by the Christmas blitz. It's a time to slow down, but too many of us rev it up; and we end up heading back to our workplaces and regular lifestyles frustrated and frazzled, and wound up and worn out.

I'm not saying every person and not every Christmas, to be sure, but the potential is there.

“It's the birth day (space between the words is intentional) of a King,” so the song goes. No sense having a birthday party without asking the guest of honour to show up. Silly to leave him out, isn't it? He is the reason for the season, and He should be part of the celebration.

And I can guarantee you that He won't run over grandma. Have a very Merry Christmas.

Foremost on my Mind: I'll be Home for Christmas

There's nothing like Christmas music, lights and other decorations, as well as the ubiquitous Boxing Day sales, to get one in the mood for Christmas. Christmas plays, snowflakes, and Aunt Bob's early December Christmas card will likewise do it every time.

It's just the frantic antics that start in August that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

While it may not quite be “the most wonderful time of the year” for some, it's pretty close. However, if and when I slow down to relax for a week or two (aka Christmas holidays), I would rather do it with a sand shovel, not a snow shovel.

I have celebrated (almost) 59 Christmases. My early ones—you know, the ones that are all about gifts and food, and food and gifts—are, of course, an unfortunate blur. I do have fond recollections of my dad's folks (those Irish Funstons), Uncle Bob, and Mom's always-delicious Christmas turkey dinner. My paternal grandparents have been gone for forty-five years or so, as has Uncle Bob, and I have a wife that cooks like my mother.

I was raised in a home where we had no Christmas tree, no Christmas lights, and few Christmas trappings that many today deem essential to the season. Well, let me re-state that: We didn't have all the clutter and mutter that my generation and the next generation feel are must-haves for Christmas.

But we had fun, food, and warm fuzzies. I venture to say that there are hundreds of families today that would exchange their present experiences at Christmas for said fun, food and warm fuzzies. Can't prove that point outright, of course, but I do see it on their faces.

Christmas is tough for a lot of people, what with physical ailments that aren't going away and family life that is fractured. And the pressure to be excited and upbeat when one is anything but is a stretch for many. That may be not what I feel, but it is certainly what I see.

My take on Christmas is that it does bring out both the best and worst in many people. Worst? Too often people are forced to pay for things they can't afford, say things they don't mean, and celebrate an event they don't believe in. Best? Lots of warm thoughts of others, and taking time out for the people they love.

Good, bad, or ugly, celebrating Christmas appropriately has always been an issue with me, as many of you well know. An analogy is in order here: When the Grey Cup was celebrated a few weeks ago, there were three types of people present--'Rider fans, Ticat fans, and CFL party animals.

The connection? Glad you asked! There are those who genuinely believe that God came down in the form of the Babe in Bethlehem; then there are those who don't, but like to at least celebrate family, gift-giving, and other wholesome Christmas traditions; and finally (and these would be akin to the “CFL party animals”), there those who see it as an excuse for excessive drinking, partying, and spending, spending, and...spending.

Even many Christian people, and I'm one of them, have strayed far from the origins of that remarkable event, over 2000 years ago. What we do as a family has little bearing on that stinky stable, with a few country folk (also known as shepherds), somewhere in the back end of a Jewish roadhouse. Maybe this is more of a confession than a column.

My plea today is for you to make Christmas special and significant. How? Have someone who is without family to be part of your family during the holidays. Or look around your circle of relationships and have someone who's lonely over for a games night, a good movie, or even just eggnog.

Man, I'd say I'm lonely enough just to get the free eggnog.

Regardless, I think this is the spirit of Christmas that we need to reclaim (whether you're a student of history or humanity)--namely, thinking of others, leaving your comfort zone, and bringing peace wherever you go.

Makes me think of a certain Someone Who did just that a couple thousand years ago.

Foremost on my Mind: Wasn't it a P.A.R.T.Y.?

I went to a party the other day—and all day affair, no less. Well, it wasn't so much a party as a P.A.R.T.Y. (That's an acronym for “Prevent Alcohol and Risk-related Trauma in Youth” and for clarity purposes, I will refer to it as Party (using the capital “P”) for the rest of this paper.

The venue was Medicine Hat Regional Hospital and the purpose, in my opinion, was to shock the you-know-what out of area grade 9 students. I took some from my school, and two other schools were likewise represented, making for a total of approximately twenty-five students, plus parents and teachers.

The gist of the programme is to expose the youth of the area to the risks of drinking, speeding, and texting while driving. There were also some segments on alcohol and drug abuse. I know that's a brief synopsis, but it's hard to put into a few sentences what I was exposed to in a few hours.

I was impressed with the real life scenarios throughout the day, both by the presenters (from the EMS to the ER to the RCMP), as well as through the testimonies of a man and and woman who showed up to give their stories about respective car accidents that left them disabled for life. Other real life scenarios came via DVD clips, testimonies of people maimed in accidents, with others expressing their outrage and grief at having lost loved ones.

It was pretty graphic, gripping,and gut-wrenching.

I was also impressed with the students from the schools that came. Bow Island's St. Mike's and Medicine Hat Christian High, as well as my own Cherry Coulee, were present. The students were well-behaved and focused; even the adults behaved themselves!

It's the matter of real world education. I can't think of a more accurate way to describe what happens when stupidity and cellphones are combined. Kids attending the Party have known of other kids who have combined cars with drinking and texting, topped off by speed. Just as an aside, there has been an unbelievable rash of deadly accidents over the these past two to three years in the the County of 40-Mile . No doubt kids from area schools knew some of the victims.

This is what I call “real world education”: More often than anyone in educational authority cares to admit, core subjects bear little resemblance to the real world. Dates, formulas, experiments, and, yes, even some grammar assignments, are important, to be sure, meeting the learning-outcomes.

But are dates, formulas, experiments, and assignments that important? Absolutely! Perhaps even more than ever. But one issue I have with the day school system is that there is so little real life context to apply all this (usually) great information.

That's why the recent Party event challenged me personally. While I don't drink and drive (actually, I don't drink at all), I was challenged about my occasional slip-ups when it comes to texting—thus, there was a real world context moment for me.

Seriously, it made me stop and think; or better, stop and text.

And likewise for the kids: Again, they've known of people who have texted or drank while a driver or passenger, or were hit by someone who who was. That's not seemingly irrelevant book information—it's real life.

Party needs to be even more aggressive: Hollywood (here I go again) glorifies the pleasures and highs of uncontrolled drinking, the excitement and rushes of getting behind the wheel of a car, the innocence and importance of drug use. They rarely, if ever, showed the wasted minds and bodies, the broken families and communities, and the utter hopelessness of every form of substance abuse.

So kudos to the sponsors of Party. Keep up the good work and graphic presentation.

It's the one party every young person should go to.