Thoughts on Aging in Place in Fort McMurray

I fully admit that I have been hesitant to wade into this because of the potential for backlash. I am no glutton for punishment, and sometimes saying what you think makes you a target, too, But sometimes you must say what you think, and since that is what this blog has always been about I decided to follow that credo today.

I am writing about the aging in place, long term care, and continuing care debate in our community. And before anyone demands to see my credentials to even speak to this topic I would like to note that I am less than a decade away from being able to legitimately order from the seniors menu at most restaurants. I am less than two decades away from being formally considered a senior by most government programs and services, and frankly my poor soccer-damaged and early-arthritic knees tell me I might be there already. I saw two parents through their elderly years, both dying at 81, and both requiring different services and homes as they aged (my father, who died of lung cancer, was cared for at home by my family and visiting nurses until he spent his last few weeks in palliative care, while my mother used both a continuing care facility while she recovered from a massive stroke in her seventies, and spent her last years in an aging in place facility). Am I an "expert" in this situation? No, and I would suggest few of us discussing it are - but I do bring some life experience, and some knowledge of how I feel as I get older. I bring that with me to the dialogue today.

The debate currently raging is often being predicated with the words "just give the seniors what they want" - and I truly wish it were that simple. I want to be extremely clear here: I have tremendous respect for the seniors of this community, the founding fathers and mothers who built this place, contributed to it in ways we cannot imagine, and who now wish to spend the last years here. My opinion has nothing to do with disrespect or not hearing them - it has to do with thinking about the needs of current seniors, as well as those decades from now - like me.

We are considering building two facilities, one to the north in Parsons Creek and one downtown on Willow Square. The current situation sees a great level of distrust and lack of faith in the levels of government to accomplish one facility, let alone both, and that distrust and lack of faith has been sadly well earned by governments who have let this slide for far too long. It is certainly government inaction and neglect that has led us to this place, and I do not let that escape me for a moment - but I think the time has come to put aside those thoughts, and arguments over who did what, when, and why to whom, and how, and simply start talking about building for today - and for tomorrow.

I believe we need two facilities in Fort McMurray, given our projected growth. And while this is a young community we do have a surprising number of baby boomers here, and ones who may well wish to retire here and live out their remaining years in the community they helped to establish. I think building only one facility - either north or downtown - would continue the pattern of too little, too late, that has plagued us in infrastructure and that we continue to struggle with daily. We need to develop some long-term vision so we are thinking about the seniors of today, their wants and needs - AND the seniors of tomorrow, and what they might want.

My mother had options when she chose an aging in place facility. She lived in a large city, and could have chosen a downtown location, but she chose one in the suburbs. Why? Because she could walk down residential streets and see children playing. She could enjoy the gardens and the parks. She and her fellow community (and it was very much a community of seniors) didn't have to worry about their fellow members who suffered from dementia wandering into heavy traffic, because they were in a quiet area with only local vehicles. Yes, she had to travel to a hospital if she needed one, and she took a bus the aging in place centre provided to do her shopping - but she was close to her family doctor, which as she aged was far more important than being close to the hospital (in her waning years she visited her family doctor almost weekly). She was close to the neighbourhoods where her children and grandchildren lived, too, and that mattered to her. The important point in this is that it worked for her - she had the choice and the option and she chose how she wanted to spend her remaining years - and isn't that what we all want? Choices and options?

I recognize there are those who think we should forego building at Parsons Creek in order to get Willow Square going faster, including the concept of rerouting the money for the north location into downtown. This worries me, because I then suspect it means we will not get a facility on the north side, and we will have once again limited our options and our choices as we age. And while this may seem to address our immediate needs and desires I am not so certain it addresses our long term goals of sustainability, community, and creating a place where we can make choices that work for us. I fear it puts us back into a place where we are behind in creating infrastructure - and I believe this is one area where we have been behind for far too long, creating tremendous suffering to our elderly and their families, and an area where we can no longer accept that suffering continuing.

I have written in this blog about our need to make Willow Square a reality, and I firmly stand by that and my belief that we need a facility there. I also believe, however, that we need to take a proactive stance for once - and we have done this so rarely here it hurts - and build for today and for the future. I believe we need to find a way to build both  facilities and to work through these painful and difficult discussions and decisions (and I know they are painful, as I well recall the discussions I had with my parents as they gave up the home they had lived in for thirty years) and consider all our needs, those of today and tomorrow, while letting go of a past of who did what to who. We can never move forward if we are too busy dissecting the past, and so I am hopeful that we can put it all aside and move on so we can create what this community needs - a present and a future for our seniors (and eventually ourselves, as some of us are not so far off) that is bright and full of choices and options.

I think we deserve that bright future, and a bright today. I think we deserve options, and choices. And I think we deserve both facilities in our community, own downtown and one on the north side of the city, and I consider myself an advocate for that vision of long-term success. I spent the last years of my parent's lives acting as their advocate, and I am passionate about the elderly and their needs as I saw first hand what happens as we age. And call me selfish, but I am thinking about myself, too, because I know the path that lies ahead of me, as I have travelled it before as their companion. I will always advocate for more and better for our seniors, including providing them options and choices as they spend their golden years in our community. Others may differ in their opinion, and I respect that - I share mine with you today, and hope it will be granted equivalent respect.

A very young McMurray Musings -

and the parents she loved.

Opportunists - and a Special Place in Hell

A couple of weeks ago the Intrepid Junior Blogger left her purse on the bus coming home from school.

It was the overflow bus, the one packed with all the kids she attends school with, and as soon as she arrived in the door and told me we called transit to report the loss. No purse had been turned in, they said, and we left our phone number in case it was. I went into her school the next morning, but it hadn't been turned in there, either.

We had thought - hoped, really - that one of her fellow students would turn it in after finding it, but after a few days we accepted the fact that it was gone. Then, one morning, she texted me from school. The purse had been turned in after all, just a few days late. She had reclaimed it, but had been saddened to learn that it had been stripped of cash and a Visa gift card (although an Ardenne's and La Senza gift card had been left behind, leading us to surmise the gender of the miscreant who helped themselves was likely male, as a female would have seen the value of those other two cards). She was happy to have her purse back, and I was happy for her - but we had a talk about opportunists, or people who capitalize on the misfortune of others. A lost purse, perhaps, or a dropped wallet, cleaned of a few bills. Or, as an email I found in my inbox showed today, a driver who happens on the scene of a motor vehicle collision moments after it happens - and instead of offering assistance drives away a few dollars richer, having stolen from the armoured vehicle involved in the incident.

Look, people. I have a fairly strong sense of justice, and a fairly strong temper, too. When I read that a sixty-year old man from Leduc is alleged to have happened upon the scene of a collision - a collision where two people died - and stole cash I pretty much lost my mind. There is a special place in hell for people of this nature, you see. It is somewhere around the very depths of that place, in a spot reserved for child molesters and puppy torturers. It is the place where people who have no soul must go to spend the afterlife, if it exists. And until they get there sadly they share the world with the rest of us, and we are instead the ones tormented by their acts.

There is no excuse for stealing money from a lost purse. There is no excuse for stealing money from the scene of a collision where two people lost their lives. Those two incidents are certainly not equivalent in terms of pure revulsion, but they are both along the continuum because they say something about the people who would do them. In the case of the purse perhaps we can cut a little slack because the individual is a junior high student, although by junior high if you don't know right from wrong we have a problem in the making. In the case of the collision I can find nothing that excuses or otherwise explains someone who would drive up to the scene of a horrific collision, likely realizing people have been seriously hurt or even killed, grab a packet of money, and drive away. I don't even pretend to know what kind of lack of heart and soul exists in that act, and if it was an act of desperation all I can say is that even desperate people I have known would have hesitated at such an act.

I've calmed down a bit since I read that email, and I suppose I could take solace in that the individual charged with the theft from the scene of the collision is not local, but I take no comfort in that at all. After all, whether he is from here or not he shares this world with us, just as the opportunist who happened upon the IJB's purse shares her world with her. I suspect she is taking a slightly harder look at some of her schoolmates these days, wondering which is the one who decided to take her loss and make it into their opportunity. And incidents like the one at the tragic accident on Highway 63 make us look at each other and wonder which of us could steal from the scene of a collision where people were dying.

Opportunism is an ugly, evil thing, because it strips us of our faith in each other, and our trust. It shows us that there are those in this world who are so very selfish and self-absorbed that during a time of another's loss they think solely of their own gain. It makes us question the very things we hold dear, our belief in right and wrong, and our belief in each other.

When I told the IJB about the theft from the scene of the collision she shook her head in disgust. A couple of weeks ago she saw the face of opportunism, too, albeit on a smaller and less serious scale. She is familiar with it now, more than ever before perhaps. It's a hard lesson to learn, that opportunists walk beside us, and sometimes even drive up to the collisions where we lay dying to use our tragedy for their own gain. And she too has learned there is a special place in hell for opportunists, including ones who can be so callous as to drive away with stolen money while two people lie dying. That sort of opportunism? Well, there isn't enough words to describe it, really. I could try, but most of them aren't fit to put into writing, so I will let you imagine them instead. You can insert your own words here:

The Pledge to End Driver Failure

I hate writing these posts. I hate writing them at any time of the year, but during this month, so close to Christmas, I hate it even more. And yet I feel compelled to write them, because this is an ongoing dialogue, and a conversation we need to continue to have. I wish we didn't need to bring it up again, to re-open old wounds - but we do, and while I don't mean to harp on the subject I think we need to keep the discussion going - because it may save lives.

Once again we have seen lives lost on Highway 63. I don't know the details of the incident, and nor do I pretend to. Perhaps it was weather related, or some odd set of circumstances. Or perhaps it was, as it is in the majority of cases, driver error - or, as I prefer to call it these days, driver failure.

You see sometimes the weather fails us, and we have these incidents. Sometimes our vehicles fail us, and we have these incidents. And sometimes even our own bodies fail us, and we have these incidents (as I do know of cases where someone has suffered cardiac arrest behind the wheel, and a subsequent collision). All too often, though, we are the failure. All too often it is us.

I am beyond happy that twinning progress is going well on Highway 63. I have always said, though, that there will continue to be deaths even after twinning is completed if we don't have an honest, frank, and perhaps brutal conversation about why and how these collisions occur. If we don't acknowledge our own role then we will continue to see carnage on the roads, and it will take the lives of those we love - or even our own.

The reality is this: We are our own worst enemy. We drive too fast, or we drive while intoxicated. We drive while we are exhausted, or we drive when we are stressed. We fail to follow the rules of the road. We take risks. We ignore the weather and drive as if the roads were clear and dry when they are a sheet of ice. We get frustrated and we try to pass five vehicles at once. We fail ourselves, and on occasion we fail others. And sometimes we, or they, pay the ultimate price.

Recently I signed a pledge. It is one I have signed many times in my head, but this time I did it consciously and online. I made a commitment to you, and to myself. I made a commitment to contribute to a safer Highway 63 and 881, except that I consider this pledge binding whenever I step into my vehicle and turn the key. And there is another reason I signed this pledge.

Because I am going to have the Intrepid Junior Blogger sign it, too.

The IJB turned fourteen this year. One of the first things she asked for was her driver's education study booklet, and that booklet has been her constant companion ever since. She has been studiously preparing for her written test so she can get her learner's license. She has expressed some trepidation about this, a fear about learning to drive, and we talk a great deal about safety and the roads and if it is easy or hard to drive. And while she might be a little anxious about the entire thing I must admit that I am terrified, because one day soon the person most precious in the world to me will be behind the wheel of thousands of pounds of steel. She will be a driver. She will be out there on the roads - and I don't want her to fail.

You see when you are on the road you aren't just responsible for yourself. You are responsible for your passengers. You are responsible for me. And you are responsible for my daughter, a young woman just beginning her journey of driving - and life. You have her life in your hands, just as yours will one day be in hers. I expect you to hold it carefully, because I have pledged to hold carefully that of yours, and your family. I encourage you to take the pledge too, but I ask you to do more than that. I ask you to not fail. Don't fail your community, your family, or yourself. Drive safe. Drive with intention. And drive knowing that you carry on your shoulders the weight of all who share the road with you. It is a big responsibility, I know - and it is one where failure leads us all down a very dark path.

Sign the pledge. Think about what it means. And then talk about it with your friends, and your family, and your children who are drivers, or about to be. Tonight I will be doing exactly that with the IJB, and she will take a pledge to protect your life. I don't think it's too much to ask for you to do the same for her, do you?

Take the Pledge

 

 



Saving a Sanctuary - the Royal Canadian Legion McMurray Branch 165 Hall

It is with a heavy heart and sadness that I  heard this morning about the woes currently facing our local Royal Canadian Legion. It appears the legion has fallen on some hard financial times, and this venerable institution in our community is at risk of falling apart, as there is a suggestion the legion building be sold to repay a debt that has risen to $200,000. There is a problem with this plan, though - and the problem is that the sale of the legion hall would leave many, including our veterans, high and dry.

I know what some of you are thinking: what veterans? You are likely thinking all our veterans are almost gone, those who fought the great world wars and who are now elderly and sadly and quietly departing from our world, taking with them their precious memories of a time few can now recall. Except we now have a huge number of veterans, including a large number in our community. Where are these veterans coming from, you ask? They are the ones who served our country in places like Somalia and Afghanistan. They too are veterans who have seen military action. They too have come home from places far away, bearing wounds of both a physical and emotional nature. And they too need the support a legion brings.

I had the opportunity to speak to someone recently about what a legion does, and what it means to veterans. The legion is a place of support, and security, and safety. It provides a place to not only honour our veterans but a place for them to gather and share their common experiences, and to work on healing from wounds that some of us can only begin to imagine. It is not just a building, you see. A legion hall is a sanctuary for those that have given so much, and often gotten so little in return.

I think at times we expect those who have returned from military duty to just "fit in". My father spoke about this, how men who came back from war were fundamentally changed by the experience. My father, who volunteered to serve in WWII but was turned away due to health issues, told stories of his fellow farmers who came back and could no longer handle sudden noises or sharp sounds, things that evoked the crack of a rifle shot in their minds. They could not cope with everyday stresses, and the impact on their families and communities was enormous. He also spoke of how little understanding there was when those veterans returned, and how everyone just assumed they would assimilate back into the community and that small farming community, and he spoke about how often they would fall apart, occasionally succumbing to addictions, or even to suicide.

We have, thankfully, come a long way. We understand the concepts of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and we know that experiencing traumatic events can fundamentally alter us in ways we may not anticipate. We have learned that not all injuries our veterans incur leave a visible scar, and we have begun to explore ways to support them. But if we allow the local legion hall to fall then we have failed them, you see. We will have failed to provide them with perhaps the most important part of the healing process - a sanctuary where they can be together, and give each other the respect, space, time, and help they need to cope with coming back from experiences most of us cannot comprehend.

This coming Monday, December 16, at 6:30 pm, there will be a public meeting at the legion hall in Waterways. The closure of the hall would impact many groups, as there are others who use this facility for various purposes, but those it would harm the most are those we cannot in good conscience allow to be further harmed. These are the people who chose to serve in our military, and who accepted tasks that many of us would reject as being too difficult or too demanding of ourselves. They have served our country, and us, and to allow them to lose their sanctuary would be a travesty in my mind, because they have already given so much. I think gathering together as a community to help them to save their sanctuary - their home - is the least we can do to begin to repay our debt to their courage, commitment, and sacrifice. I encourage all interested individuals to attend, to learn more about the legion, and to find a way to save the Royal Canadian Legion McMurray Branch 165. I believe, quite frankly, it is our responsibility - and our duty - to them to do so. This is a time when they need us, as we have so often needed them to serve us - and I sincerely hope we do not fail them in their time of need.

Community meeting on

December 16

6:30 pm

at

The Royal Canadian Legion
McMurray Branch 165
9317 Huggard St

Waterways

Fort McMurray


Looking Back - and Ahead at MacDonald Island Park

It's funny, but I wrote more often in this blog about MacDonald Island Park before I began working there. I could write about it daily, to be honest, as there is always so much happening in this world I now inhabit. I have been part of so many things in the past ten months, and while I have been employed there for under a year MacDonald Island Park has been part of my life since I arrived in this community almost twelve years ago.

I suppose I don't write about it as often because I don't want to seem like I am blowing our own horn too much, because I firmly consider myself part of the team. Once upon a time I was the person bringing the then-tiny Intrepid Junior Blogger to the rink for skating lessons, and then the person who was one of the first to use the new fitness centre when the expansion opened. And then one day I had the honour of speaking to RMWB council as a community stakeholder to encourage them to vote to build Shell Place, the new facility that I have always believed will change Fort McMurray forever.

Back then I never imagined I would work there one day, and get to see how MacDonald Island Park is changing Fort McMurray every day. I never imagined driving across the bridge on a daily basis and watching Shell Place slowly go from dream to reality. I never really imagined I would become part of the place that I have always seen as the heart of this community - and yet here I am. Perhaps for some what I do now would be a "job" - but for me it has become the marriage of  my passion for a place and a community, and my firm belief in the people who work there. It isn't a "job" for me to work at MacDonald Island Park. It is, instead, an honour.

And one of the honours I have is working alongside incredibly dedicated, talented individuals who bring passion to their craft. One of those is my co-worker and friend Layla Underwood, who is beautiful inside and out, makes me laugh almost every single day, tells the best stories in the world, and who is gifted beyond imagination when it comes to photography and videography.

Today I have another honour, which is sharing one of Layla's video projects with you. This video appeared on the MacDonald Island Facebook page, and has received tremendous response from those who have viewed it. I wanted to share it here, though, not to blow our own horn but to talk about how far MacDonald Island has come, even in a few short years.

I go to work every day, and when I leave my office I ask myself two questions. The first is: "Did I give my best today?". The second one is: "Did I make a difference today?". The only way I can close my office door and lock it to go home with a clear conscience is if I can answer yes to both those questions - and so every day I give my best, and do my best to make a difference in this community through this blog, my freelance work, my volunteer time, my efforts to support others - and my work at MacDonald Island Park. I am so grateful to have the opportunity to contribute to this community and region in these ways, and I am so grateful to be able to share this video with you today - because it tells the story of a past I watched unfold, and provides glimpses of the future I am helping to build. When I saw it the first time it almost made me cry - and it has had the same effect every single time since. I am just so very proud to be a part of it all.

Miracles and Clouds

This is a time of year I should probably stay away from YouTube, because there are all these videos that turn me into a complete blubbering mess of tears and runny mascara. While I often wear my heart on my sleeve, around Christmas my emotions are so close to the surface that I have been known to cry at commercials (I am a marketer's dream, people, because even though I know they are playing me I go along quite willingly).

These videos aren't local, although one involves an airline that flies into our community, and one is a story that crosses the borders of countries - and hearts. At this time of year when some of us (okay, me) are struggling to find some Christmas cheer and faith and hope and belief, these videos provide some of that, and remind us that there are good people out there. A lot of good people, actually.

This first video is from WestJet. Is there a Santa Claus, you ask? Well, there is if you were on one of these WestJet flights:

That video had me crying by the end. Big, fat tears, especially the reaction of the little boy who could not believe his wish had been answered. And this next video? It gave me chills. Maybe you aren't familiar with Zach Sobiech, but he was a very young man who developed cancer. While battling his illness he wrote a lovely little song called "Clouds", about his battle with the disease that claimed his life in May of this year. Zach is gone now, one of those shooting stars that lights up our lives ever so briefly before they are reclaimed by the cosmos - but his song lives on in the hearts and minds of millions, including this choir. If you need a reason to believe, this might just be it. Watch this - and find some faith again:

 



(When It's Not) The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Ah, the holiday season. Bright lights, good food, wrapping paper, gifts under the tree, good will and festive cheer...which is all lovely, except when you just aren't feeling it. I have been "faking festive" for a good three weeks now, and I look around and know I am not alone.

Christmas is a time when I always think of my parents, and their loss stings even greater than usual at a time when so many memories surface. I sat down and wrote a poem about it this week, finding myself in tears by the end, struggling to see the keyboard to finish it. I always miss them, you see, but at this time of year it's harder than ever because sometimes I even dream about those Christmas holidays long ago, so real I can still see them in my mind, but gone forever just as my parents are.

I am not the only one who struggles this way. In our community alone I have one young friend who is also struggling with the loss of a parent and the sense of things left unsaid and undone, and I know another family who is facing their first Christmas without their "shooting star", their beloved son who was taken from them far too soon. I empathize with them so deeply, and while I cannot know the entirety of their story or their pain I know that at this time of year the joy and happiness and cheer can come in stark contrast when in your own heart you find sadness, and pain, and loss.

I am pretty good at faking festive. My house is decorated, and I am listening to Christmas carols. I have bought gifts and wrapping paper, and I have begun baking cookies. I am trying so hard to find it, that elusive Christmas spirit, but this year, just as it has done every year since both my parents have been gone, it had gotten very clever at hiding.

There are moments I glimpse it, too, peeking at me just beyond my grasp, and then it slips away again, leaving me feeling a bit wooden and going through the motions of "festive". I have experienced other losses this year, you see, and there is a date close to Christmas that had significance for many years of my life but that this year is just a day to get through. This year, perhaps more than any other, Christmas is presenting me with a challenge.

And so here is what I intend to do. I intend to let myself grieve a bit, for parents gone forever and dates that have gone from being celebrations to being a bit painful. I intend to allow myself to work through those things, and to not feel I must "celebrate" or "be merry". And then I intend to wrap some gifts, put on some music, pour some wine, and ensure the Intrepid Junior Blogger has a wonderful holiday season. I intend to hold her and the dog and the cat (and the ferrets if they will allow it) close because I know how precious these days are, as one day they will end. I may or may not find my Christmas spirit this year, but what I will do is treasure every second of it regardless, because I know that one day these will be the memories of Christmas' past too. I am sure there were times when my parents didn't feel the holiday spirit, and when they managed to "fake festive", even when the most wonderful time of year just wasn't wonderful at all. I intend to spend time with friends and family, I intend to sleep in on occasion and stay up late on others, watch holiday movies and drink egg nog and rum and fall asleep on the sofa with the lights still twinkling and waking up at 3 am with the cat stretched on top of me. And I will think of all those others who struggle at this time of year, and keep them in my heart because they are not alone. They are in good company, with so many of us who muddle through the holidays, faking festive and making merry. And you know what? It's okay, because the holidays shouldn't be about how we "should" feel. They should be about how we do feel, and finding a way to explore those feelings at a time of year that is the most wonderful, and perhaps the most challenging.

This is the poem I wrote about my parents. I wish they were still here with me, but I know that the memories I have of them will last forever - or at least until the end of my days on this earth. What I know is this: my Christmas spirit may be elusive this year, but I will hold close all those that are dear to me, because I know that these moments do not last - and they are precious, each and every one.

The Ghost Of Christmas Past

Every year

I think of Silent Night

Sung in German, not English

The only German words I knew

The only ones they ever taught me

Every year

I think of that long dining room table

The one he made in his workshop

Large enough for a family of girls and husbands and grandchildren

And how it would be covered by the food she made

Lovingly stooped over a stove for hours

Kneading, mixing, stirring, creating

Her face flushed and her knuckles red

Creating magic

I think of those Christmas trees he found

Usually lopsided

Often missing branches

Somehow he always found the Charlie Brown tree

And brought it home

Because he had a habit of bringing home those that were broken to fix them

I think of how she would laugh when she finally sat down at that table

How he would settle in

How we would talk of everything

Family, politics, lives, careers, dreams

I never understood how fortunate I was back then

Never realized how one day I would look back

And miss it in the very depths of my heart

How those crooked trees and that German carol

That food and that table

Would wrap themselves around my heart

Create memories I would not forget

And leave a loss in my soul when it was gone

I will never forget those nights

Late on Christmas Eve just before midnight mass

When the snow lay on the ground like a thick white blanket

The windows glittered with shining lights

The warmth of the glow within spilling out the glass

And onto the soft snow

Sometimes I dream of them

So close I can almost touch them

But I can never go back there again

Except in my memories

And my heart.