Runners...or Sneakers?

Runners. Let's see: There are runners that are shoots (as in strawberry runners); there are runners that are disciplined (as in marathoners); and then there are those things that those disciplined marathoners wear on their feet. There are few other definitions of 'runners,' but they are extraneous, irrelevant, and meaningless to this article. It's the footwear runner that I want to consider today.

Back in the Dark Ages – that is, sometime between "I Love Lucy," and "Everybody Loves Raymond," runners came in two basic colours, white and dirty. They came in two basic shapes, namely, over the ankle and under the ankle. And they were used for two basic purposes: for those actively athletic and those pretending to be actively athletic.

Now, when it comes to footwear, the parameters (another fancy word for restrictions or limitations) have been kicked out and tossed overboard. Runners come in all sorts of colours, all sorts of shapes and sizes, and you can wear them everywhere, anywhere, and probably even nowhere.

I was even at a wedding recently where the groom and his groomsmen all wore them. (At least they matched the black monkey suits.) If you were to check out your local hospital, restaurant, and classroom, you might be surprised to see what the respective workers are wearing on their feet these days. Classy casual, you might call it.

Do I personally care what people are wearing? Well, I'm flattered you asked. The answer is a simple, No, I don't really care. I think the bigger issue here is the comfort of the wearer, especially for those on their feet all day. I believe a soft sole makes for a strong back A little taste would be in order, too: Make sure if you take the runner route that they are clean, neat, and matching.

I would also suggest that athletes and wannabe-athletes keep their footwear on at all times: There is nothing as repulsive as smelly feet that have been "runnerized."

This column would be confusing if one our American friends read it. You see, they understand the word runner, and the other word runner, but not this word "runner." They call that casual footwear "sneakers." Keep that in mind next time you are at Wal-Mart in Great Falls. Who knows, if you ask you for their selection on runners, they might send you to garden department.

One thing I haven't discussed is the price. I am shocked when I find out from my students paid for their latest pair of togs. I can get a meal at the Golden Corral in Great Falls for a family of eleven with what they paid for two pieces of slick footwear.

So, in fifty years, we have shifted from a simple set of runners that served in a useful capacity to a serious (and expensive) fashion statement. Runners have taken on a life of their own, namely, they are a reflection of the definite casual approach we have adopted as a dress code for our culture. Add to the mix blue jeans, open neck shirts (how can you tell a male is writing this column?), along with a tieless, suitless, and hatless wardrobe, and you have the man of the 'oh-oh' decade.

I personally wear runners (sneakers, for you Montaniacs) as often as possible - though, I must admit, that my favourite footwear is flip-flops (known as 'thongs' when we all still loved Lucy.) To date, however, I have never found a nice pair of dress pants and matching tie that go along with red flip-flops.

Runners. It seems you can wear them anywhere and everywhere. But that makes me ask the following question: If a runner wears runners, who wears sneakers?

Summertime!

I stepped outside the other day, sans hat, and suffered the worse case of sunstroke I had ever experienced in my life. By the time I staggered in, I was craving to go back to school, cheering for the Calgary Flames, and voting NDP.

Seriously, folks: Is it hot out there, or what? Are these the days that make you want the January blizzards to come? Not quite? I agree. It's hot, but not that hot – at least not yet.

Our routine down here in Funstonville is to work outside in the morning, inside in the afternoon, and a mix in the evening. And when I say "in the morning," I mean no later than 8:00. I still see that as sleeping in. Some of my eldest see it a little differently: Anything earlier than 9:00 AM during summer holidays is akin to taking a monk's vow for self-discipline.

It is intriguing how creative a parent can be down here in Southern Alberta, what with the limited lakes, parks, and other free recreational areas. I have discovered an excellent swimming hole, a tubing adventure, volleyball at an neighbour's farm, and enough tennis courts to keep Roger Federer happy for a year.

Back in my Kamloops days, I had access to approximately 100 lakes, all for fishing in or swimming in. You guessed it: I never used any of them. For all the fishing I could have done, my best catch of the day was at Safeway, the next aisle over from the hamburger.

I know there is a plethora of student-run, government-supported programmes to keep all of our young people busy (read: out of Mom's hair). I sincerely think that is great, though we as a family don't participate. My main caution would be getting our kids too dependent on programmes and people outside the family unit. I know that sounds quite political but methinks it's a reasonable outlook.

Some of you are likely saying, Boy, he's got sunstroke again. Not really. There are plenty of families out there who want to do things as a family, with other families, in family-safe environments. One can no longer be too cautious, unfortunately.

So, whether it is time, money, or content, parents today need to be creative for the sake of their children. To us (so I am now speaking on behalf of my wife as well), simply having other people provide our kids' entertainment, occupy their free time, and control what they do and when they do it, it not the way to go.

Believe it or not, the same could be said for all these great Bible camps out there: Just because it involves the Bible (for me), doesn't mean it is a safe and happy environment.

Hence, we expend that extra effort to find things that are inexpensive, wholesome, and meaningful. Do we succeed each time? Are you kidding? It is a goal – a philosophy of life, if you will – that we are constantly aiming at.

Summertime is a great time for re-grouping for families, for re-charging the domestic battery, if you will. It is at the end of the summer, however, that the kids are anxious to get back to school (in whatever form you choose), and the parents are wasted from being so creative and innovative

Or maybe even suffering from sunstroke.

Twenty-Seven Years

Twenty-seven years ago this coming Thursday (July 10) I took one of the most significant steps in my life. The move I made ranks up there with my embracing of a personal God, the birth of my children, my move to Alberta, and my shift back into teaching eleven years ago.

I said "I do," and I have been doing ever since.

I don't suppose you could find two more different people. They say I have always been different, but on that day I became even more different. One of us was from a small interior town, the eldest in the family of only girls, and very smart. The other one - that would be me, for your information - came from a suburb of Vancouver, the youngest of only boys, and, well, let's just say that grade ten was the best three years of my life.

Gwynne was a near-valedictorian; that is, she was next in line to the really, really smart guy. Me? I wasn't exactly next in line: I was at the end of the line. By the time I got my grad papers, it was tomorrow and everyone had gone home.

When Gwynne married me, I was a full-fledged postman. The politically correct term is letter-carrier. Yep, I was that, too. I always identified myself as a first class male. (I grew tired of explaining that one, so I dropped it.)

Gwynne has stuck with me through thick and thin - my thick head and thin skin. We moved a few times throughout British Columbia, and finally fled to the Wild Rose province six years ago. Three jobs, nine kids, and around nine moves later, we are still hanging in there together.

Committed marriage between a male and female for life is sadly not as common as it once was. Though not as normal as it once was, it is still the most natural relationship. A number of aberrations (big word for "strange variations") have moved in like bad squatters. Limited freedom of speech - remember that? - bad laws, and political correctness rule the day, so I am muzzled from saying anymore. Simply extolling the benefits of a monogamous marriage could be considered a hate message. Oh, Canada!

Studies have shown very conclusively that there are economic, medical, spiritual, emotional, and moral advantages to a committed relationship between a male and female. Unfortunately, these are never allowed in the public arena for our enlightenment. Too often positive comments about one man - one woman are shunted aside, lumped with a right-wing, fundamentalist worldview.

Nothing could be further from the truth, but who really cares about truth today? Pleasure-seekers, I think, would describe our culture.

So, here's hopefully to another twenty-seven years, Gwynne. I'm heavier, so there's more of me to love; I'm balder, so I waste less time and money on hair stuff; and I'm slower, so when you chase me, I won't have to give you a head start.

I have a really neat idea for an anniversary dinner: There's lots of variety, the servings aren't too large, the servers are always well-dressed, and we can go to either Medicine Hat or Lethbridge.

The "restaurant" is called Costco. Meet me in one of the sample aisles.