I read today about a soldier who was patrolling with his mates when he heard the click of a tripwire.  He knew a grenade was about to explode, and if it did that in the open air all four of them would likely be killed.

The soldier didn’t think.  He did.  He fell backwards on top of the grenade, which then exploded.  His heavy backpack took most of the impact … and they all survived.

Of course he was a hero.  He saved people’s lives

In the Facebook comments, and in my head, there was much discussion about what makes a hero.

Who else should be revered in this way?

Sports stories are often laced with images of heroism.  Certainly a woman or man who runs the entire 42 kilometres of a marathon is a hero to me.  The human body and the human mind are the mountains to climb.

But what about athletes who win a lot, and perhaps perform far beyond others in their sport … Are these folks heroes?

Take Mondo Duplantis, for example – the pole vaulter.  He recently set a world record of 6.31 metres (20 feet, 8.25 inches).  That’s a whopping 14 centimetres (5.5 inches) more than anyone else has ever jumped.  Does such excellence equate to heroism?

What about an amazing singer, instrumentalist, dancer, actor or artist?  Or a famous entertainer?

One person on Facebook had something to say about the soldier and heroism:

A comedian (can’t remember who) once said the word hero had been devalued over the years from being someone who saved lives by putting themselves in danger to someone unexpectedly returning home with crisps.  It sometimes certainly seems like that, but we should all know who the real heroes are.

“Crisps” as in trophies and money and receiving the Order of Canada.

***

Here’s my take:

If you contribute to the quality of human life, you are my hero

Be kind

Open the door for someone struggling with an armful of packages

Give genuine compliments

Say “Thank you”

Be interested in the other person’s life

Create something new and helpful

Hug

Give

Love

Well, I could argue with what’s true right now.  I could analyze and dissect.  But what good would that do?

It’s afternoon.  And 31 degrees in my apartment (88 Fahrenheit).  I have a fan and two little coolers that help a bit.  Cool showers work for awhile.  It’s just that there are a lots of “whiles” to deal with.

I’ve retreated to the air conditioning of Lloyd Coffee Eatery.  I want to write something to you … and my brain isn’t working well in Oudburg 40.

My bedroom faces the Leie River at the back of the apartment.  Opening those windows creates a horde of unwanted guests called mosquitoes.  At night I open the windows of the living room and guest bedroom, which face the street.  This morning, the overnight score for temperature reduction was 1 degree (30.5 > 29.5). 

Last night I slept fine for three hours, and then not at all from 3:00 till 5:00.

Something has to be done, Bruce

And you’re the guy to do it!

Okay … a shift in reality, called the guest bedroom.  I placed the coolers close to my head.  I opened both windows and faced the fan out one of them.  The internet had kindly informed me that if the temperature is cooler outside than in, this strategy will force out hot air and suck in cool air through the other window.  Air will move, not just hang over my head, laughing.

And lo and behold … it worked!  I was asleep within half an hour.

***

My life currently has been reduced to basics – sleep, shower, eat and write.  For the times I’m home during the day, they’re spent horizontal, coolers and fan pumping out lukewarm coolness, windows closed.

That’ll do for now

Tonight will be air flowing in my guest bedroom

And the knowledge that …

All Things Must Pass

My friend Lyrinda in London, Ontario, Canada keeps saying wise things.  Perhaps I don’t have to think of stuff to write about anymore.  I’ll just wait for her to talk … and then respond.

She noticed that Janis Joplin skipped offstage after her landmark song at the Monterey Pop Festival.  So I decided to skip.  That was yesterday.

Lyrinda has replied to another post of mine – the one about me singiing on the street … and apparently no one listening.

Here she is:

The birds in the trees sing for their own reasons and many people either do not hear them out or just walk by choosing to ignore them.  The trilling and cawing and calling is an everchanging symphony of beauty and connection that those who choose to hear.  You are a bird singing with all your body and soul.

I’ve often said …

What’s important is the loving energy I put out into the world

It doesn’t matter what comes back

“So, Bruce, it appears you haven’t always been living what you say.  You need people to enjoy your singing and your songs.  The truth is that some will and some won’t.  Forget about the reactions.  Keep singing!”

Okay

I’ll do that

And keep speaking, Lyrinda

About a week ago, I wrote about the American singer Janis Joplin belting out “Ball and Chain” at the Monterey Pop Festival in the 60’s.  I included the video.

Yesterday my friend Lyrinda responded:

She burned hot and true and unfiltered.  Such raw emotion laid out not only in words but in her voice in its full range of sound.  Her little skip at the end when she left the stage was a touch of the innocent child still there despite the ball and chain of the song.

And my reply:

Yes, Lyrinda.  The skip!  I can do that too.  In fact, I will … down the Langemunt tomorrow.  I promise.

Oops.  Tomorrow is now today.

I’ve been sitting in Lloyd Coffee Eatery, at one end of the Langemunt.  Two hundred metres away is Izy Coffee.  I’ve visualized a round trip.

An hour ago I was in the midst of being reasonable … and scared.  Last Friday I had a second Cortisone injection in my right knee.  The cartilage has largely worn away, and my knee wants me to get the message.

What if your skipping creates permanent damage?

If you do this today, you may not be able to walk unassisted in two years

Be careful, Bruce.  Life is about being careful

What will people think?

They’ll see you as emotionally disturbed

And so I quivered at Table 140 in Lloyd’s.

I decided to practice … a bit.  There was no one sitting in the back end of the restaurant.  I’ll give it a try (with my head peering over my shoulder).

I did three skipping steps, but they weren’t.

I’ve forgotten how to skip!

(Sigh)  Trying again.  Now maybe six steps … and they were skipping.

Get up from the table and do the darned thing!

I rose.

I walked over to a nearby table.  The couple spoke English.  I told them my story.  They agreed to cheer me on through the glass door that would show a senior skipper on the street.

Now the Langemunt, my feet centered on the depths of the Earth.  I looked back inside.  Smiles and thumbs up.

I began

Poetry in motion it was not … but it was motion.

My head was pretty much down, as I concentrated on not splatting myself on the pavement.  So I didn’t see people’s reactions.

I was pooped fifty metres later, by the entrance to Eyes + More optician.  I told my story to Aude and Pieter-Jan.  They added to the cheers.  And off I continued.

Two or three more breathing stops before I reached Izy, buoyed by the well wishes of three teens along the way.

Inside, Léa and Michelle revved me up for the return trip.

Two hundred slow metres later, I skipped into Lloyd’s.

Very tired.  Very happy.  Very proud

***

There you go, Lyrinda

Piece of cake

May 5, 2026 was a big day on this planet of ours: Sébastien Gabriel showed up.  Mom and dad Cara and Simon are “tickled pink”.  (I love those words)

Yesterday was Sébastien’s baby shower in Waregem.  I got to go!  And it was the first one in my life.

Over a hundred of us revelled in the presence of the young one, held tenderly by dad.  And featured in photos on the screen.

The people I knew (Cara, Simon and Petra – Cara’s mom) were busy greeting each newcomer to the party.  So I just sat on a chair and scanned the crowd, loving people I’ve never met.  I knew that all the conversations would be in Dutch, and I’d be lost.  So I simply watched people.

Later Cara’s dad Pascal and her sister Tessi arrived, and I had nice talks with them and Petra.  Plus a few words here and there with Cara, the very busy new mom.

I asked Pascal about his life, and his eyes brightened with the word “padel”.  It’s a combination of tennis and squash, played on a glass-enclosed court.   Pascal loves the sport and it was so cool to hear that in his voice.  May all of us love some activity deeply (and the people in our lives).

Pascal gave up tennis in his 20’s because of knee problems and has discovered padel in his 50’s.  The knees can handle it.  Oh … it’s a feel good story.

Tessi has returned from several months of studying in Sweden.  Two things stood out in her words:

1.  The emotional challenge of having almost 24 hours of darkness in the winter

2.  Her growing empathy with people living in Belgium who don’t speak much Dutch (like me) after her struggles with not knowing Swedish

And then there’s Petra.  The revelation of being a grandmother – life changing.  Not a transition but a jolt.  Eyes opening to the beauty of a new human life who is a deep part of you.

More news: Petra and Tessi intend to run the Gent Marathon next spring … all 42 kilometres.  Go for it, my friends!

***

Cara came by with a book for guests to comment about Sébastien.  Here’s what I wrote:

Enough said

Welcome, Sébastien

I’ve always enjoyed Clint Eastwood’s acting, especially as the tough guy in American Western movies such as “Unforgiven”.

One of my favourite action heroes is now 96.  I’m a “spring chicken” in comparison.  But the body is already sending signs that my best physical days are in the past.

What does Clint have to say about rolling towards death?

The aging process is a formidable challenge, isn’t it?  You remain present, observing the world with your own eyes.  However, your physical agility has diminished, your vision tires easily, and your respiratory system labors to find breath.  The most daunting and exhausting aspect, however, is approaching 100 and lacking someone to share your life stories with, filled with nostalgic reflections.  You’re aware they may not be genuinely interested, but you still derive satisfaction from recounting those memories.  Like a grandfather imparting wisdom to his grandchildren.

I tell stories.  I especially enjoy the face-to-face ones, and I risk bothering my friends with the same tale over and over again.  But they’re kind to me, and they listen one more time.

And then there’s you … whoever and wherever you are.  You listen to my verbal meanderings, at least some of them.  So I keep writing.

Thank you for being here

Kindness often shows up when we are with each other.  An apple is a simple thing but look at the glow in the eyes that it creates.

But what about when we’re not together physically?  What power do we have to touch other souls from a distance?

I wonder.

At one of the Buddhist retreats I attended, a teacher told us that every minute of every day, someone in the world is saying a version of these words:

May you be free from danger

May you be happy

May you be healthy

May you live with ease

The “you” spoken to may be an individual person but I feel in my heart that it includes all of us.  So someone somewhere is blessing my life right now.  Not knowing the individual called Bruce … but knowing deeply that my joys and sorrows flow through all of mankind.

And so I receive.  But it’s not a one-way street.  I give.  I give when I’m out there in the world, whether or not other eyes meet mine.  And I give right now, alone in my living room.  I give to all the “you’s” that surround me on Earth … in this instant.  Before I proofread my words and eventually press “Publish”.

***

We are powerful … for good or ill

Let’s make it for good

The Barack Obama Presidential Center in Chicago began with a dedication ceremony on Thursday, June 18.  Former presidents and marvelous musicians joined the celebration.

I read a post on Facebook this morning, praising Barack and Michelle and the loving vibe that lived throughout the evening.

Then I read many of the glowing comments.

And I thought …

What if these words weren’t directed to Barack

But instead were about … you?

I hope there are a lot of “you’s” sitting out there in cyberland, reading my stuff.  But even if there are just a few of you, I bet the variety of human beings would fill a rainbow.

So whoever you are, whatever you’re like as a person, imagine that someone is saying these things about the woman or man within your body.

I’ll use (_____) when Barack or Michelle’s name is used.  Fill in the blank!  And please don’t go to thoughts such as “I’m not a public speaker.”

***

From the beginning to the end I was teary eyed.  (_____)’s speech brought me to tears.

I kept thinking about my favorite Christmas movie, “It’s A Wonderful Life”, and how beloved (_____) is. In a world of Mr. Potters, be a George Bailey.  “The richest man in town.”

“Today we saw our better side.”  Yes, we did.  And I cried because I’ve missed it so much.  I’m grateful to (_____) for reminding me who we can be.

(_____) are two lovely people – gifted orators, personable, gracious, dignified and exuding decency.

Empathy is a superpower.

As always (_____) does it with grace.

Our most respected and beloved role model

No one was more deserving of this honor than (_____).

So refreshing to hear love & kindness being spoken.

(_____) didn’t tear it down.  (_____) didn’t try to break it.  (_____) built it so it would be stronger.  (_____) left it better than what it was …

It’s a tribute to (_____) how much people like and respect them. 

It’s kindness and empathy and acceptance and high standards for those in high positions, and class and setting a good example.

An articulate, caring, humble leader who cared about us all

***

So well said

All of you

About all of you

Here they are …

(By the way, the upwards arrow that appears twice is a reminder to pick a starting note that’s higher than the one I’m thinking of using, so I’ll be able to hit low notes later)

And here I am …

I’m sitting in Lloyd Coffee Eatery, awaiting my Morning Club breakfast.  Two hours from now, my mouth will be open in song about fifty metres from here – in front of Eyes + More optician.

Breathe, Bruce, breathe

It helps when you sing

For months a choice has roamed around in my head.  Focus on performing some activity well or focus on loving the people who are witnessing the activity.

The cultural pull is for excellence but there’s something else at work in me.

Love them all.  Light the world

Six words that have been alive for years.

However, my mind has the capacity to be tricky:

If you love them, you’ll be relaxed

And then you’ll sing well!

Silly mind.

At 11:00 am, how about if I just beam love?  I may forget words, or be out of tune.  If that happens, how about if “So what?” comes in response?  Not a peace to achieve something.  Just peace.

That’s enough for now.  I’ll talk to you again after I sing.

***

As they say …

The best laid plans of mice and men

I had my moments of loving the passersby – many in fact.  Most often, though, it was the beauty of the lyrics I was feeling.  Such as …

The days they pass so quickly now
Nights are seldom long
Time around me whispers when it’s cold
The changes somehow frighten me
But still I have to smile
It turns me on to think of growing old

Not such a bad thing to be loving the words.

Virtually no one glanced at me as they strolled or hurried along.  One woman smiled and gave me a thumbs up … and kept going.  A friend of mine stopped to smile and listen.  No one else paused their day.

A woman came close, pointed to my sign, and started speaking in Dutch.  I didn’t understand.  And I lost the lyrics.  Thirty seconds or so later they returned.

My sign:

I don’t want any money.  Thank you

One man put his face close to mine and almost yelled, flailing his arms down the street.  I think he spoke Turkish and I know he wanted me to leave.  Once more the words of the song disappeared, and once more they reappeared in my mind after a short lapse.

***

My love for the passing shoppers was sporadic but I’d say I sang ten lovely songs … well.  And now my smile lingers

On to the next performance

Janis Joplin was an American singer who “rocked the house” with her raspy voice, soaring lyrics and bouncing legs.  She threw herself into life … and died of a heroine overdose at 27.

Janis was “out there” – such a cool expression.  And that’s it.  To express, any way you want to.  Just put lots of oxygen into the air!  (Carbon dioxide, actually)  Put yourself way out into the world.

The venue is the Monterey Pop Festival in California.

The year is 1967.

The song is “Ball and Chain”.

And the singer!

Here’s a few comments about that concert:

She wore a loose blouse and stacks of bracelets that clattered when she moved. Her voice carried the grain of Southern blues singers she had studied – artists like Bessie Smith and Big Mama Thornton.

…

The band laid down a heavy, dragging rhythm.  Joplin leaned into the microphone and began almost quietly, drawing out the opening lines.  Her phrasing bent around the beat, stretching words until the notes sounded less like singing and more like a raw release of pressure.

Then the volume climbed.

Her voice cracked, climbed higher, and pushed against the band’s amplifiers.  The performance built in waves – each chorus louder than the last.  She crouched low, gripping the microphone stand, then threw her head back and pushed the final notes into a long, unsteady wail.

The crowd stopped moving.

…

The band finished the song.

For a moment, there was a pause.

Then the audience erupted.

Here’s “Ball and Chain”.  I’m fine whether you love or hate Janis’ performance.

Either way …

I expect your mouth will drop open

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=X1zFnyEe3nE&si=tiQAtg3rimnz33rq