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Archive for October, 2025

Isn’t it funny how US customs doesn’t ask why you’ve returned home after a trip? I mean, when you leave you need a reason to visit other countries, but returning? Not so much. We actually did customs in Calgary – I stood before a camera-type-I-pad device that snapped a picture and then said “Welcome Christine!” Weird! Since we are Global Entry screened, it almost seemed too easy. Where are the harried agents looking you up and down and asking if you have anything to declare?

YES. I declare that despite the cold and the rain, Canadians seem happier than Americans – and it wasn’t just the Blue Jays win!

I came back from our Vancouver Island adventure smuggling pockets full of snotty tissues. Our very last day in British Columbia I woke with a tickle in my throat, thank you Bob who had been coughing for days. This didn’t stop us hopping onboard a water taxi to search out the best fish and chips on Fisherman’s Wharf. We were on a mission. Have you ever watched the PBS show, “Samantha Brown’s Places to Love?” Well I’m addicted.

There’s just something about her generosity of spirit that makes hers a travel show worth watching. And since I hope that you, like my family, are contributors to public broadcasting, you’ll be able to stream all her work on PBS Passports. Anyhow, she did a piece on Victoria, BC that had us taking mad notes! We visited a jigsaw puzzle shop she recommended that featured local artists’ work all in wood and ordered two to be delivered home – one of an orca whale with all the tiny pieces resembling a whale!

We walked in from the rain, and I said I’d expected their shop to be on a small side street; the lovely saleswoman told me that after Samantha’s visit (who is also lovely of course), they’d had to move to a larger place on the main street. https://puzzlelab.com/

After our delicious fishy lunch, we hopped onboard another water taxi to visit Chinatown. This is the oldest Chinatown in North America and it didn’t disappoint. Of course we’d already gone whale watching earlier in the week, and managed to spy an elusive sea otter, along with lots of seals and a few humpback whales. One was identified as “Exclamation” because of his gigantic exclamation point on his tail. Most have migrated south by this time, preferring the warmer waters of Mexico for calving.

I remembered Ada’s 90th Birthday Bash in Cabo; the tiny motorboat we piled into to see mama whales and babies cavorting. At least in BC, the Prince of Whales was a much bigger boat and they served us hot chocolate!

My cold is finally getting better, but I’ve been quarantined from our little Nashville family for a week. So I had to leave the otter socks, lumberjack PJs, and books I got for the Grands on their porch. Like the tiny porcelain cat I found in Chinatown, my arm is perpetually waving across the distance.

Like this administration, a government unfunded, pulling away from our closest trade neighbor. Now Canada too is looking towards Asia. “Faced with a trade war with the United States, Canada’s biggest trading partner, Mr. Carney has set an ambitious goal of doubling Canadian exports to other countries within a decade. Expanding trade with Asia is central to Mr. Carney’s strategy.” NYTimes.

Here I am in my Victorian “Elsbeth” hat and a vintage green, cashmere sweater I found at the Crossroads Pets’ fundraiser. We were so cold people!

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Just boarded a plane for Vancouver. The last time I was in Canada was 1968, and it wasn’t a pleasant trip. Starter marriage and all. But this time I’ll be seeing whales, strolling through gardens, and ogling totem poles with my main squeeze.

Before Eugene Levy called himself a reluctant traveler, I held that title. I would be perfectly happy never leaving home, although meeting Prince William in Levy’s last episode looked incredible. Until the Lady Diana debacle, I loved the Royal Family… then Meghan and Harry happened.

Maybe William and Kate will revitalize the Crown?

We’ve just spent a quick week with the Rocker’s little family in California. Our twin Princesses are on the move, crawling and trying to stand. Kiki will.be returning to work next week, one of the most bittersweet transitions in a young mother’s life. Bob helped them baby proof the house, I cooked a bit, and we had lots of adventures.

We landed in Vancouver and I forgot we’d have to tell the Customs Agent why we were here – I wanted to say we were fugitives looking for a safe place to land, we were fantasizing about immigrating. But instead I said “Personal.”

I heard that the hostages have been released from Gaza. I read that our military is still shooting boats out of the Caribbean. And the best news of all is that major media outlets said NO to the Pentagon’s attempt to create a propaganda machine. Take that Hegseth.

I guess I was lucky writing for the Two River Times. My editor loved when I ruffled feathers in our Jersey Shore town. I reported only the truth, and sometimes the truth hurt. But it sold more newspapers and that was the business model after all. When a democracy fails, the free press is the first to go, and so we have hope today.

Hope for a lasting peace in the Middle East. Hope for the Rule of Law. Hope for the First Amendment. And hope that our baby girls will always delight in giant giraffes.

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I’m getting to be an old regular at synagogue. After the Love Bug’s Bat Mitzvah, we entered the Jewish Holy Days with a renewed faith. Last week for Kol Nidre, the service on the night of Yom Kippur, I sat between my Granddaughter and my husband holding hands. The Bug had the honor of saying a prayer in Hebrew on the Bima (altar). The Day of Atonement is our chance to ask forgiveness for anything and everything and from everyone we may have harmed over the past year. We listened to the Rabbi speak about loss, about confronting our mortality.

She talked about getting a metaphorical box delivered to our door, with a string inside representing the length of time we have left to live. Would you open it, or would you bury it?

“Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.” As a young, practicing Catholic, I would pound my chest, “Mea Culpa,” and go to confession every week and make amends by reciting the rosary. My ‘sins’ were the usual; taking the Lord’s name in vain. not respecting or listening to my parents. Asking for forgiveness is a universal thread running through the history of time and every single religion I can think of. “Forgive me Father for I have sinned,” was and probably still is the opening salvo inside the confessional.

But what are our sins like today, as adults in this 21st Century? Did we stand by while ICE arrested people on the street, outside of their church? Were we silent and indifferent in the face of injustice? What would we change about our lives if we knew that next week we would fall and break our neck and be gone, poof, just like that? Bob nearly died when he had a stroke on the operating table ten years ago. My perspective has certainly changed now that I’ve crossed that three-quarter century mark.

I recently listened to a podcast about how we humans react to an unforeseen event – like finding out you have an incurable, hereditary disease (say Prion), that could strike at any moment. “Prion disease is a group of rare, terminal neurodegenerative diseases. They happen when proteins in your brain turn into abnormal proteins known as prions. Prion disease causes brain damage that leads to dementia…” people die within a year of diagnosis.

There are usually three reactions to getting bad news: 1) Continue blithely living your same life, we might call this denial; 2) Go with the flow and be flexible enough to try new things; and last 3) Pivot. The woman in the podcast who watched her mother die of Prion at age 51 decided to take the test – she looked inside the box – to find out she DID have the genetic mutation for Prion. This woman pivoted, she was a second year law student who dropped out and switched course. She attained a PhD in Biological and Biomedical Sciences from Harvard. She is now 49 and has a pretty good idea of the length of her string.

Last week, I did something a little unusual; I took an adult ballet class. Bob climbed to the top shelf of my closet and took down the box containing my pointe shoes and dance shoes, and they still fit me. I was the oldest in the class, but I didn’t care. My knees weren’t used to the pliés, but my muscle memory kicked in and I walked just a little bit taller afterwards. Of course, I spent the rest of the weekend recuperating. But I am happy!

I have a pretty good idea how long my string is, and I want to dance and eat all the desserts and take a river cruise with some of my old friends, plus a few new ones. I want to be improvisational, to go with the flow of the future. I want to be arrested for protesting this administration’s contempt of the rule of law, its authoritarian methods, its downright sinful treatment of immigrants. And I want my granddaughters to know I fought for reproductive freedom until the very end.

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