Category Archives: Narrative

‘Willie’, The Willie O’Ree Story

Took Colin and Olivia to see a screening of the documentary of Fredericton hometown hero Willie O’Ree last night, ‘Willie’. It was followed by a lovely Q&A with the man himself and the director of the movie. Truly a magnificent and inspiring story .

For those not in the know, Willie was the first Black player in the NHL, and if that wasn’t enough, after playing pro for 20 or so years, he retired, but went to work taking the game of hockey to kids all over North America who wouldn’t have otherwise had the opportunity to play – AND continues to do so now at 82.

A superbly well done documentary. I don’t know where or when it’s screening, but if you get the chance I highly suggest you check it out. It’s about so much more than hockey. It was great to learn more about this man, I feel fortunate to have landed in the region of Canada from which he sprung, and I’m proud that my kids get to play in the same rink that he did and one that now bears his name. Totally a class act.

Willie said it best, “They called me the Jackie Robinson of the NHL, and I guess that sort of stuck, but that wasn’t me, I’m the Willie O’Ree of the NHL.” You know he’s a class act – and a badass – because they only let those kinds of guys wear fedoras. Thanks to @discoverunb for the free screening.

Different Rivers

When I moved here in 2006 I discovered there were two options for a commuting route from my house, both about 15km one-way. One was on the road, the other, almost entirely on converted rail-to-trail. My policy has always been and continues to be to avoid slicing and dicing with grumpy morning folks trapped in confined metal boxes, so whenever possible, the trail it is.

Up until 2010, my commute to work took me across two rivers, The Nashwaak and the St. John. After 2010, I changed jobs and now work on the north side of the St. John, so only cross the Nashwaak each trip. I used to keep track of my rides and mileage and all that but have stopped bothering. So, subtracting weekends, holidays, weather, sleep-in’s and other misses and adding back in various market trips, rides for coffee and group rides, I’d say conservatively on average I’ve commuted or ridden this route 150 times a year (each way, so 300 total) – at some point during every season and kind of weather you can conjure.*

Some dude, wiser than I, many seasons ago, once observed that “no man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” Well then it must also apply that a man can’t CROSS the same river twice either.

Doing the fancy math that accounts for both jobs, that means approximately 5,100 different rivers crossed for this cat in 13 years. And I probably have at least half that many pictures clogging up the internet and cloud storage to prove it.

The thing is, they are truly different. Every. Time. Which is why I almost always stop. And while I didn’t always stop, make coffee, eat home made granola with chocolate milk and watch the sun come up on Fredericton across the St. John while tons of ducks do whatever it is ducks do in the morning – I have been quite a bit recently. If I had my druthers (and I don’t know what a ‘druther’ is – or why anyone would want one) I’d just ride my bike around rivers drinking coffee all day, but like so many of you, I have to go to work. I’m pretty sure though, that if one HAS to go to work, I may have stumbled onto the absolute best way to do it. Even without coffee and snacks.

*That’s also roughly 58,500km of commuting for those playing along at home. Also, there’s not enough space here to discuss how I have changed as a man, so don’t ask.

The Positive Wolf Sits One Out

Some mornings the Positive Wolf stays tucked in his den, curled up and snoring. He can go out all day, he’s not some working chump like you. So you end up alone in the basement with your the Negative Mind.

It starts with the usual questions. “Why the hell are we doing this again?” And then starts the barter, “hey, you know bedtime was late last night and all we’re short sleep, so you could just do the minimum number of sets today and skip the two extra…”

Sometimes you can’t even hear the banter over the popping and complaining of your 47 year old joints ringing with their years of misuse and abuse. Forget the actual exercises, you pathetically struggle and grunt just to get up off the floor and transition between them. And really, you have no answer for your Mind, you don’t know why you’re doing it except that, if you can remember and remind yourself often enough, it’s to avoid the feelings of regret, disappointment and lack of accomplishment when you don’t.

Those are far worse, and you try to remember that when you’re struggling to even stand up off the floor.