A tribute to my brother, on his birthday.

My oldest brother had a birthday today. It is a Sunday, and over there it was a beautiful blue day, just like it was the day he was born. We have another brother and had a sister, but they were 8 years younger. Jaap, three years my junior, was the companion of my childhood, the one with who I share both the most memories and a gentle sibling rivalry. I always resented it when a fuss was made over him being a Sunday child, as if the accident of birth was a merit.

By the way, the haircut illustrates nicely why I get a light perm every few months. But, as I say so often, that is another topic. One of these days I have to do a blog on hair. 

Jacobus Johan van der Hout was named after his paternal grandfather. He weighed in at over 9 pounds, and was by all accounts a happy baby who did not cry much but made contented noises in his pretty cradle. More sibling rivalry: the smug mention of this always irked his older sister who was reported to have screamed a lot. Easy for him, born in peace time to a mother who was not a nervous war time wreck! Three weeks after my birth the house we lived in had been confiscated for billeting German soldiers. 

I started writing about our common childhood, but it was too much about me, not Jaap. We'll keep those memories for another time. 

Jaap had much more intitiative than I did. As a little boy, around age 6,  he and a buddy used to ignore parental warnings and play on a wharf in the Westland gracht, a canal a few blocks away from home. The city ended there in those days. This picture came from the Facebook page Nostalgisch Amsterdam.

These expeditions might take place on Sunday morning while he was supposed to be at Sunday school. Smart boy. The pull of the water turned into a life-long love affair with boats. These days Drascombe longboat "Danser" is moored across from the house. Below, Danser in the canal on the way to open water and being enjoyed by a visiting friend.

How little does success in school predict success later in life! Jaap was a dreamer who struggled a bit. To make things worse we had the same teachers, who made remarks about him not being as smart as his big sister. Great psychology, teachers. I had been 'good in school', thanks to the way school back then was structured. I loved learning and had a good memory. Take in and regurgitate, easy peasy and no measure for the ability to make one's way in the world. 

When it came time to pick post-elementary schools Jaap was sent to the easiest possible academic type, where he failed. The best part of this school was the location: close to Amsterdam's famous Stedelijk Museum, a Mecca of modern art. He used to visit it during his lunch hour. The doormen knew him as a frequent visitor. How many 12 year old boys do we know doing that? 

Next stop: vocational school, where he was completely out of place among the rough boys destined for life in a factory or work place. Salvation came from a math teacher who took him under his wing. Jaap went from one technical type school to the next, and ended up first as a draftsman, then as a professional architect and city planner. Not bad for a kid who had trouble learning!

Jaap's work is characterized by a brilliant talent for playfully harmonizing the new and modern with the old and traditional, always with an eye on creating livable space for people. 

Above, part of a project in Zaandam. This city head-hunted him to help revitalize the downtown core. 

On July 7 1972 Jaap married the love of his life, Marielle Beck. They celebrated 4o last year with a smashing party.

They are a fantastic couple. Marielle is the oldest of a tight-knit clan that ended up in the same town. They remained childless, but as godparents, aunt/uncle and honorary grandparents they have enriched the lives of many children and continue to do so. 

They are also the loving rock whenever anyone in the extended family needs care.

The year 2012 was supposed to be the start of retirement bliss. Instead they looked after one sister who was dying of lung cancer, while one on the other side was being treated with a bone marrow transplant. Ever creative, the couple transformed themselves into the CliniClowns for visits to Marielle's sister.

Not only did my kid brother become a successful professional and all-around good human being, he is also a gourmet cook, an active member of community organizations, and plays around in the arts. 

And did I mention that they have friends all over the world, thanks to the years they were part of  folk dance group Het Duivelspaard, and are amazing hosts? 

Bro, it is an honour to be your sister. Good luck and godspeed in your 68th turn around the sun.

Pictures for this blog were partly pilfered from Jaap's FB page.

A day between the Ides and Saint Patrick's day.

Note on The Day 2016. 

This was first posted on Multiply in 2012, then again a year later. It is now four years later and we are maintaining the pattern. Since this was written the big 50 passed without any recognition whatsoever. Yes, I was a bit teary and miffed in spite of knowing better. Spouse's loss of hearing has made celebrations with people not fun, so I did not organize anything. But rather than pining I ended up having a wonderful day with a new friend. So it goes. 

One more note. On May 5 2016 Spouse was diagnosed with a horrid disease that is a close cousin of Parkinson's, with some Alzheimer's characteristics as well. Progessive Supranuclear Palsy. We are doing the "in sickness and health, till death do us part" thing now.
______________________________________________________
Forty-seven years ago this day, on March 16 1966, I was crossing a bridge over the ancient canal that at that time was home to Amsterdam City Hall. 

It was a cold, blustery day with some sideways rain. A just-married couple, she in full white regalia,  emerged from the hall into the lousy weather. And I thought: "Poor bride. But then who plans a wedding at this time of year?" At which point a little bell went off in my brain, and I remembered that this day marked our own first wedding anniversary in the same location.

Look at how tall he was! I am wearing the highest heels I ever had. These days we see eye to eye with me in flats.

This set the tone for future years. I take full responsibility for my own part in the lack of celebratory rituals.

We were in our bohemian phase and had lived together for two years before marrying, a daring thing in those times. We considered ourselves beyond bourgeois concerns like wedding anniversaries.

Alas, by the time I got over that and would have liked some recognition the pattern had been set. Mother's Day ditto. 

Many subsequent anniversaries passed without being marked in any fashion.

By the time we hit 20, our circle of friends was just recovering from one of those waves of  splits and reconfiguration that seem to mark modern life. I was so grateful to have been spared that whole scene that I did not mind that this historic day was overlooked.

Note me looking up at man  adoringly and handsome man smiling over my head into the distance.

The suit had been tailor made by the fiancee of a friend who was a professional. The fabric was this colour. Yes, I kept the little hat.

I did shed a few private tears when 25 passed in the same fashion. It was not one of our better years anyway, and no, I will not go into details. Anyone who has been married a long time knows that "for better or worse" includes the ups and downs of the relationship itself. I sincerely believe this society would be healthier if fairy tales ended with "And they had some very good times, as well as some bad ones, and lived tolerably ever after."

At 30 things had improved. I did not really expect much but still harboured a small hope. The day was marked by our daughter calling at night. "Hi Dad, congratulations". "Congratulations on what?" "Your 30th anniversary." "Anniversary of what?" 

At 35 I took matters in my own hands and organized a dinner with our daughter's in-laws. They owned a store at the time and handed us a nice basket, with the words "Happy Anniversary". Bewilderment on the part of spouse. "I thought your anniversary was in July?" An ESL moment. "No, that's my birthday." We laughed it off as the mature people we were by now and enjoyed the outing.

By now, I am resigned to living with a man who just does not do dates. It's nothing personal. He would walk through fire for his children, but I am not sure he knows their birthdays.

40 and 45 coincided with visits to the kids. We often go to the coast in March, which is a miserable month of melting snow here and full spring in Vancouver.

Today marks the 48th, so help us Goddess. Needless to say, it passed  unmarked. I will organize something in two years, if we are still around. 

Meanwhile I appreciate my Old Dutch for constancy, loyalty, a shared history and sense of humor, a compatible view of the world, and many small kindnesses that make daily life more pleasant.

Happy Anniversary.

I touched a man who had a beer with Stomping Tom!

Stomping Tom Connors died yesterday, followed today by radio legend Max Ferguson. Like so many Canadian institutions, we got to know country legend Stomping Tom through  CBC radio. 

We can sing along to the hockey song, and know what the boys and girls are up to on a Sudbury Saturday night. This morning the radio played a song I had never heard before: "Fire in the mine." It was about a fire in the mine in the Northern Ontario town Timmins, back in 1964. 

We have a family connection to  Timmins. Our co-grandparents hail from there, so I gave them a call to ask if they knew their home town had been sung about on radio. 

Guess what: our co-gramps had been working in that mine at the time, though not underground. It turns out Stomping Tom had started his career as a musician in Timmins. 

My grandson has a grandfather who once had a beer with Stomping Tom Connors. Wow. A plugged-into-Canada moment. I love it.

P.S. My new blogger buddy Tossing Pebbles did a great post on Stomping Tom, complete with videos. Go see.
http://philiprobinson.blogspot.ca/2013/03/stompin-tom-connors-last-night-unique.html#links

And more on this much-loved Canadian:
http://www2.macleans.ca/2013/03/07/stompin-tom-connors-and-the-places-he-put-in-songs/

Walks with Johan part 2: Noordwijk aan Zee.

I have been home since Friday afternoon. An uneventful trip with the help of the same good people who got me out, in reverse. It is starting to feel more normal. Funny, usually I feel as if I have barely been away the moment I get back. This time it took a few days. I would emerge from dreams disoriented and wondering in which house in Holland I was. 

I am starting to feel pretty normal, though disoriented in time. I am suffering from season lag, not jet lag. 
Normally I work my butt off in summer. By November I am happy to retreat indoors for a while, read and play internet. This year of course it was all different. This week is for resting up, but next week I look forward to taking up some volunteer work and to let reflexology clients know that I am back. 

Anyway, time to record some Dutch pictures. To start with; Noordwijk aan Zee.

In our childhood vacation time meant one thing: BEACH.  Starting in 1953 we rented a place in Noordwijk for the whole month of August. One of my mother's sisters lived there. Her daughter Anneke still does, as do her grown son and daughter. Anneke is six years my senior, and was a glamorous entity whose doings I followed from afar. But Margreet kept going to Noordwijk long after the rest of us, and developed a close relationship with our cousin in spite of the 14 year age difference. We always had planned to go visit together but never got around to it. This time I did. Anneke and her partner Leo were the kindest hosts. 
We yacked our heads off catching up on the doings of a lifetime, and Anneke  drove me around old haunts. The lighthouse is one of the few things that have not changed. 

The waterfront hotels used to be right above the beach. The sea was visible from the street in front, known as the Boulevard. Now a strip of dunes separates the walk from the view. It is all part of the ongoing  struggle to keep the North Sea from flooding the Low Countries. They actually built a dike in front of the narrow existing dune, then covered the dike with dune stuff.
The illustration below comes from here: http://www.kustvisie.nl/noordwijk.php

A viewing platform was built at the Southern end of the Boulevard.. 

There is also a path through the new dune with a view of the sea.

The day was sunny but very cold with a stiff breeze, perfect for a walk on the beach. At first the plan was to just walk the sea path, but once I saw the sea there was no way I was going to let a wonky knee keep me off the beach. It was glorious. 

We walked over the beach from the Southern end to the lighthouse. One of the beach pavillions was still up. We enjoyed a coffee in a sheltered sunny spot out of the freezing wind but still with a view of the sparkling waves. 

By the way, I never post pictures of other people unless I have their express permission, which is why my inspiring 75 year old cousin is not celebrated here. Both she and her 84 year  old partner are prime examples of aging well. They play tennis 3 times a week, bridge to sharpen the mind, and do lots of walking and cycling. Way to go Anneke and Leo, thanks for the good role model!

We walked back over the Boulevard and the sea path, then I insisted on a tour of the Hoofd Straat, below.

In our childhood, when the weather was too foul for even a trip to the dunes we would make a Boulevard/Hoofd Straat round.  We'd either get a treat of ice cream or French fries at the lighthouse end of the Boulevard, OR Jaap and I were given a quarter for a tiny toy at the general store in the middle of the street. It has been replaced by Blokker, a ubiquitous chain of household goods. Ah, the joy and agony of decision making!  The toys in question would reliably fall apart after half a day, but that did not matter. Most of the pleasure was in making a selection. Noordwijk will always bring fond memories.

All Souls

Happy Halloween to all my friends who are out partying or trick or treating tonight.

I never did get into it.  It was not part of my childhood, and I lack the creative spark that makes it fun to do costumes. 

This year, inspired by an ad by an RC agency in the bus shelter, I created a small candle ritual on the last night I will spend in my sister's home.  Leaving here will be hard. Like the real goodbye.

I found some pictures while tidying up. Arranged them with Margreet in the middle and one of each parent to the sides, more including one very precious Christmas picture from 1952 in front. The candles are still burning.

Margreet's send-off

 Margreet has passed through the door into the Great Mystery.

I have been too busy/tired to blog the final doings. It doesn't take much. Shoppng first for groceries and then for some camera stuff, all on foot, left me exhausted for the rest of the day and much of the next. Ridiculous! Time to finish before I forget.

Margreet had planned her own memorial, entirely as she had lived: simple, and as cheaply as possible. Her home is a five minute walk from the hall, so she couldn't see the point of a bunch of cars following the hearse. We just walked behind it. Below, the brothers.

Margreet loved a bargain and would probably have been thrilled to find a coffin on Marketplace, the local equivalent of Craig's list. (Joke. We didn't.)

Some 'six feet under' details got in the way of some plans: If you die at home in the evening you may not be in good enough shape to lie in state later on.....
The picture below was taken after we brought her home on Thursday night. Happily asleep with the lovely nurse Marina in attendence.

We had had plans to invite people to the home for a final farewell, they have cooling units they place under the body. But because Marg had just been at room temp for 12 hours and had been ill and full of drugs,  this was no longer feasible. The funeral people came and laid her out, cooled and all, at home on Sunday morning but her face really did not look like her anymore. And I couldn't do a thing with her hair.  Good hair was always so important to her. We are sure she would have preferred people to remember her at her best. Jaap who has been the master organizer, called the undertakers to come and get the body on Tuesday morning.

After two nights alone at home with a dead sister I got to assist with the closing of the coffin. I feel privileged to have had the chance to be such an intimate part of the final stage of life.
Margreet was sent off with a miniature uniform of Ajax, her soccer club, and a baby picture of her beloved red tomcat Binky, who she got when he was only 5 weeks old.

Architect Dudok designed this cemetery, Zuiderhof, Hilversum, which is a place of serenity and beauty. Jaap and I walked the grounds a few days earlier.
The memorial was held in the aula here, the body was taken elsewhere for cremation. Eventually the siblings will scatter her ashes in many places that had meaning for her, including some in Nakusp.

There were quite a few people. Extended family, some neighbours, and many long time co-workers. One of them gave a moving speech about how Margreet had inspired her in her final year. Margreet loved talking about people. Not so much gossip, just what was happening. Of course the family got to hear about the colleagues and vice versa. Both parties enjoyed finally meeting each other, with some glee. "I know all about you....." "Likewise!"

Jaap used the last sibling line-up as basis for a beautiful portrait to place on top of the coffin. We had asked for red flowers. Margreet had decorated her little house entirely in grey and burgundy.

Gerrit and I both shared our memories of Margreet and Jaap closed by inviting those who felt like it to follow us to Margreet's home for soup, broodjes and drinks. We had never thought that almost everyone would come along! Sorry folks. The planning had been for about 25. We should have had more nibblies. The little house got quite crowded, thank goodness the weather was half decent and people could spread out into the backyard. And then it was over.

We all took some of the flowers but the most beautiful arrangements stayed here. I have been enjoying them.  Thanks sis, and thanks for all the memories.

And then there were three.

Back in the days when pictures were black and white and a rare occasion, our parents used to pose us children in a row. Here is one taken on vacation in Noordwijk in the fifties.

Later we repeated the ritual whenever we all got together, which was not very often once I moved to Canada. This one was sometime in the nineties.

The one below was taken in 2004. I am the one with the plate on my lap, sister Margreet is on the right, leaning against her twin. I love this picture of her. She was always so happy when we were all together.

The next one was taken during the day we all spent together in 2009, just before our mother's funeral.

There will be no more sibling line-ups. Our baby sister died on October 13 at 11 in the evening.

Margreet never married. She loved her work, steady night shift in an institution for the mentally handicapped. Apart fom her circle of co-workers the family of origin was IT for her. She lived close to our parents and was the loving rock of support in their old age.

 She made a truly brilliant exit.

Margreet had been diagnosed with lung cancer in August 2011. The prognosis was originally for 2-4 months, but was then changed to between one and 2 years. She was ecstatic about the extra time. She faced her fate with great courage and equanimity. She got all her affairs in order in the beginning of the process and made the most of her last year of life. When people expressed their admiration and amazement she shrugged and said: " Of course I could spend my last months crying in a corner, but what good would that do?" For a devoted sports fan like Margreet this was a good year. The Olympics happened in her time zone, and her soccer club won the national championship. Go Ajax!

She had no symptoms beyond getting a bit out of breath when she walked uphil. We all expected her to keep going for a while yet. On September 30 2012 she enjoyed a windy walk on the beach with  brother Jaap. Margreet had a wonderful time. When she told me about it on the phone she mentioned that this was one more thing to cross off the bucket list. 

Three days later she woke up to find her right arm paralyzed. The tumor had metastasized into her brain. The rest went insanely fast. Sunday she was still well enough to enjoy a walk on the hospital grounds with her twin bother Gerrit.

When I arrived in the Netherlands on Thursday morning Jaap and Marielle, my SIL, were there to take me straight to the hospital. Gerrit was with Margreet. The brothers had prepared me but seeing her was still a shock. She had stopped eating and drinking and was not responsive. She cried a lot. The only thing she said was "yes" to everything. Once the neurologist came in she responded a bit more. We arranged for palliative care at home. Margreet had had all the relevant conversations with her family doctor  months earlier. What a wonderful, civilized way to do things!

Once she knew she was going home Marg perked right up. She said a few words. We sat around her bed and told each other stories of her life. She laughed with us. By 6 PM everything was in place: a hospital bed in her living room, 24/7 nursing care and a prescription for morphine to keep her comfortable. Margreet settled in with a huge smile on her face. We shared one more memory/joking moment. She fell asleep, happily. And that was pretty much it. Apart from a bit of response while she was cared for by the nurse the next morning she did not regain consciousness. She died peacefully at home on Saturday evening with her hand in mine, listening to relaxation music with ocean sounds. She loved the sea.

We are now preparing for the memorial on Thursday. Don't worry sis, you'll have a great send-off.

A sad trip

It was only a small gathering, 6 including us, but on Sunday I pulled off a Thanksgiving dinner made largely from home-grown food. It seems ages ago.

To make a long story short, my sister's cancer has spread to her brain, she is in hospital and it is all going insanely fast. Back in May before the stuff hit my personal fan she had bought me a ticket to come visit starting October 17. I just got the OK to go a week ago. Monday oldest kid brother called to ask if I could come earlier. KLM said they could get me on a flight that day or the next, but it doesn't work that way from Nakusp!

Half the trip is getting to the airport. Fortunately we have our dear nephew and family here near Calgary, with a guest bed always ready. Our stalwart Beverley drove me to the Greyhound, niece Marjel picked me up there, old friend Esther is coming to Bearspaw to take me to the airport. It is so true that one person's tragedy is another person's inconvenience. I sure appreciate all the good folks who are willing to inconvenience themselves for my sake.

I am flying later today. The latest news is not good at all. Margreet is our baby sister, she should not be the one to go first, but who said life is fair. 

Meanwhile, I am grateful for my own recovery, all the help, and good brothers. 

Family Gathering and Age

Posted to Multiply August 22 2011

That was the nicest family get together anyone could ask for. 

One of the joys of having our son in the same city as his sister is that we get to see both offspring at the same time more often. For many years we'd see both kids regularly, but hardly ever at the same time. 

Daughter and spouse made a  quick trip to retrieve the grandson from his summer in the country, and to visit SIL's parents, who cannot make it to Vancouver due to health problems. The demands of everyone's work dictated a fast trip: Arrival Saturday night, departure Monday morning. It takes about 8 hours of driving. Son decided to come along for the ride.

We often make this an occasion for an extended family get-together here. Once in a while I enjoy cooking my brains out and hosting some people. 

The extended family in this case consists of three sets of grandparents: us, our fellow grandparents, their other grandchildren with parents, and the cousins' other grandparents. We need words for these relationships. 

This was not the best weekend at my end, but the kids said they'd take care of things. Did they ever! 

No matter how early I start, and how much I make ahead of time, preparing a dinner party always takes longer than I think. At least I calculate that in these days. The usual scenario finds me red-faced and sweaty in the kitchen until 10 minutes before guests are due. I am all in favor of cleaning as one goes but find it hard in practice. When people ask if they can help I explain that they can keep me company with a drink at the kitchen table, but because I am a terrible organizer I am incapable of delegating. 

Not so my brilliant scientist daughter. The woman has inherited her grandmother's ability to stay calm in the middle of threatening chaos, and to make efficient use of other people. Both my children are fantastic cooks, with a cheerful rivalry about making  use of all one can find in Vancouver. Critters with tentacles, odd body parts, weird produce from land and sea ....  But for this occasion son graciously allowed his sister to take the lead and did the prep cook/dishwasher grunt work.

I got out of the way and went up the hill to tend to gardens and chickens.

When I got back about 2 hours later all the food was prepped and the kitchen was clean again. All I had to do was shove the meat into a slow oven, make a plate of deviled eggs and a salad and grill the zucchini later. I also took care of desert, a humungous Black Forest Cake bartered for with reflexology.

The young people went to the beach to enjoy the new boat that N's SIL and husband had just bought. I ended up opting for a relaxing bath and a rest on the shady lawn at home. The water is just too cold for swimming this year. Chris has never been a beach person, but I have always been a fanatic. Not so this year. Another sure sign of getting old.

The shift is more noticeable every time we get together. The offspring are both in their thirties, settled into good professional jobs they enjoy. They are the grown-ups now, fully participating in their time. We are becoming the old ones on the periphery, struggling to keep up with new technology. Watch us fumbling to answer a cell phone. 

Guess what: it is OK! One of the more pleasant surprises of age is that so many changes you dread in anticipation are OK when you get to them. Between 60 and 65 I felt ageless. At 68 the years are starting to bite. Or at least nibble. 

I fully intend to remain as healthy and productive as possible for as long as I can. I intend to stay on this land as long as possible. But I won't cling to illusions of still being what we are not. Denial of reality by the old creates burdens for the young. They have a tough enough row to hoe without that. 

And now, I'd better go do my exercises..... 

Family, games and ashes

Originally posted to Multiply October 7 2010

The big news in  my uneventful little life right now is that my baby sister is over from Holland. The generous hospitality of our young Calgary relatives gave us the chance to go pick her up at the airport. The price of accommodations for 2 nights would have been prohibitive otherwise.The picture above was taken at a roadside sculpture near a Golden gas station. 
We have been blessed with a few golden-blue warm days, perfect for hanging out at the waterfront in town. Margreet has made the trip  here many times before. She knows her way around downtown Vancouver and Calgary better than we do, and Nakusp holds few surprises. Fortunately she loves re-visiting old beloved places, like this bench at the end of the walk in the Japanese memorial garden.

Above: sis resting in the sunshine while I do my thing in the flowerbeds nearby.
She is recovering from a serious back operation, and had a dreadful summer full of pain leading up it.  Reflexology treatments every other day are providing almost-pain free days and restful nights.
It is so nice to be able to DO something when a loved one is suffering!So what do we do with someone who has seen everything around here when it is not beach season? We play Globe Trotters in the motor home! We discovered this wonderful board game in the late eighties, when I brought it home on Saint Nicholas Eve. We used to celebrate a watered-down version, to take the edge off waiting for Christmas. The next year Mom and Margreet came over during a dreadful rainy spell. You can only go the Hot Springs so often. Globe Trotters saved the vacation. We played it endlessly.Above, Mom, Marg and the kids playing The Game on the porch. Speaking of Mom......she wanted her ashes to be spread on the land here, where she has had so many happy vacations. She made one last trip with Margreet. We will do it soon, but meanwhile her remains are enjoying a nice corner next to the flowering Michaelmas daisies.

I have never related to getting excited over remains. But I catch myself moving the urn out of the rain. Perhaps there is more to the bones of ancestors than we know. Who says this is a rational species? And now, it is time for another round of globe trotters.

Bursting

August 13 2010


If you hear a big bang, followed by a hail of fleshy particles, that would be me having just burst with pride.

That's MY girl! My main contribution has been to not get in her way.

Another Grad, another coast trip.

 Originally posted to Multiply June 30 2010

Son Alex had lost his geology job in the economic downturn, and cleverly used the enforced idleness for some upgrading. He added an intense one-year course in Geographical Information Systems (GIS) to his BSc.

GIS folks make sense out of the mass of data that surveyors and satellites deliver. It has a wide range of applications in many fields. Serious nerd work. Alex can now make computers sing and dance and knows even more stuff his old backwoods mother doesn't have a clue about. 


The course (at BCIT in Burnaby) came with a graduation ceremony with all the trimmings. Alex had missed his college grad, because when it happened he was already working way up North, so we all showed up for this one.


Entering Metro Vancouver is always a treat. Approaching the Port Mann bridge.

It is too bad one can't just stop on the bridge and gaze at the spectacular view. The barrier even makes it hard to take pictures, but I stubbornly keep trying. Pictures taken through the side window are not the same quality as those taken through the front.


The day before happened to be Chris' birthday, so the kids treated us to a lavish dinner at the Korean Barbecue place, quite an experience!

The next day we faced two dilemmas: how to spend the morning till the ceremony at 1.30 and how to get there. We had been warned parking might be a problem. Our normal accommodation had not been available. We were staying at some distance from the sky train and were not sure which buses go where. We solved both problems by hiking to the site, approximately 10 km. This gave us the chance to walk through Deer Lake park. 

I have always been intrigued by those Burnaby lakes, but they are hard to get to with the car if you don't know the city.

Notice the pair of loons in the water! On the way out of the park we saw a sign with: "Warning, coyotes!" Good thing too, some predator needs to cull the geese.

We had not brought enough food or drink, so the salmon berries along the trail were welcome.

The ceremony was the usual pomp and circumstance with dignitaries decked out in crazy fifteenth-century hats. The grads entered the auditorium to the strains of  "Land of hope and glory". A lovely melody, but an odd choice considering the vast majority of students is of Asian origin. The chorus brings memories of my dear anglophile Dad. He loved listening to the radio broadcast of the last seasonal Prom concert in the Royal Albert Hall.

This song was one of the traditional highlights, right up there with 'Rule Britannia!', which he lustily belted along with. We digress.

We will have to wait for the official photo to get decent pictures of the moment on stage, but there was plenty of photo-opping afterwards.

Nienke took this one with the timer.

An immigrant moment: I keep under-estimating the formality of these occasions. Many family-of-grads folks were milling around dressed to the hilt. I felt quite under dressed. My most presentable outfit was vaguely smelling of Korean barbecue after the night before and had to be replaced with something more casual. Besides we were somewhat sweaty and bedraggled after our epic hike. Alex made up for it by being resplendent in a suit.

And there we leave him for now. A smart, handsome and kind young man who is finding his way in life. 

 Postscript: the training led to a job as a mapmaker for a small mining company, just what he had in mind. Eventually it too ended. 

Read all about it at Alex' own blog, http://nothernlites.blogspot.com