Tag Archives: Giving

Eleven Readers

It was going to be an ordinary “get ready to go to Massachusetts” day.  I went to the tire shop to have new tires installed on Hugo, my Honda CRV.  And I got to see Brian again, the manager.  This man is friendly to everyone.  There was a stream of folks walking through his door and he lit up as he noticed each one.  He actually reminded me of the Dalai Lama.  So cool.

Next I went to the drugstore, parking a block away, when something hit me.  No … not a car!  A thought.  All I did was look through the front passenger window at the store beyond.  It was the office of a company which provides occupational therapy and physiotherapy to folks in their homes.  When Jody came home from the hospital in March, 2014, Kerry Ann and Kathy were of great service to her.  They were both kind.

I had a box of Jody’s books in the car.  I took two out and walked into the office.  A smiling receptionist greeted me.  My therapist friends weren’t in.  I sat there and wrote messages in the books and gave them to the receptionist, who was happy to pass them on.

Back in Hugo, I realized that there were other professionals who had been good to Jody.  I marvelled at why I hadn’t made this trip before, prior to leaving for Western Canada.  No guilt showed up, just a fascination with the waywardness of my mind.

Now, how do I find these fine humans?  I remembered that a new public health facility had been built in St. Thomas so I went there.

“Does __________ work here?”  >  “No.”

Times four.

Even though I was shooting blanks here, the receptionist was helpful in tracking down where these health care people might be hanging out.

So Hugo and I resumed the quest.  Down the street, I parked in front of another office. And voilà!  A second receptionist told me that Laura (our nurse practitioner) and Charlotte (our co-ordinator of services) each had a desk there.  They were both kind.  And they weren’t in.  More inscriptions ensued and again the woman welcoming me said she would pass on Jody’s books.

Office number three was the home of two marvelous visiting nurses – Henry and Cindy.  Henry always made Jody laugh and Cindy loved talking about non-nursey things that Jody was interested in.  Just folks, but plenty smart.  They were both kind.  And they weren’t in.  So … signing > receptionist > to be delivered.

As well as the health care heroes who had looked into Jody’s eyes, three receptionists and two drug store employees took a copy of our book.  And I know that all of them were happy to receive the gift.  Each of them will laugh.  Each of them will cry.  It’s what we human beings do.  It makes me happy.

Bela Angel

Well, it seems that I’m on a “Book Tour”.  Over my career, I visited 45 schools in our board, to work with visually impaired students.  I decided a few weeks ago to drop into a lot of them, to see who would like a copy of Jody’s book.  So many people are saying yes, and even if the answer is no, it’s wonderful to see old friends again.

Months ago, I was trying to decide how many books to have printed.  The number “500” bubbled to the surface, to be immediately squashed by my small mind: “Oh, Bruce.  You’re going to end up with 480 books in the basement.”  As of tonight, I’ve given away 432, and last week I ordered another 500.  I’m so happy that people are touched by our story.

Today I was at St. Vincent de Paul School in Strathroy, Ontario.  As I was talking to a teacher in the hallway, a young girl came up to me smiling and said, “You gave me your ring.”  I’ll call her Bela.  Three years ago I was working with a low vision child in a Junior Kindergarten class.  A student I didn’t know (Bela) approached me and said, “I like your ring.”  (It’s a large gold band with a red garnet … a gift from my lovely wife Jodiette.)  I didn’t think.  I just did.  I twisted the ring off my right pinky finger and put it in Bela’s hand.  I smiled.  And then I walked back to my student.  A few minutes later I glanced over at Bela, and she was cupping my ring in her open palm … just looking at it.  A bit later I took it back.

That was then.  This is now.  Bela in the hallway, now a Grade 2 student.  I did what any normal human being would have done: I twisted off Jody’s ring and put it in Bela’s hand.  Big smile from her.  Later in the classroom, she said, “I hope I see you again.  I want a hug.”  So we hugged.  I know I’m not supposed to, but gosh, there was a human being in front of me.

At the end of the period, as the kids were leaving the room, Bela looked back at me, smiled, and spoke a sentence with the word “God” in it.  I wish I could remember exactly what she said.  My guess?  “God loves you.”  And she was gone.

(Sigh)

To Express

Sometimes I think about how much time I spend just sitting in my body, nice and quiet, not doing anything, and how much time I spend putting energy out into the world, reaching towards people, expressing something of value in their direction.  I like both.

Yesterday, I wanted to sit in London’s Victoria Park before going to a movie.  I also wanted ice cream.  The Marble Slab Creamery is the most decadent place.  I ordered up a waffle cone full of sweet cream (not vanilla), Smarties (a good old Canadian chocolate yummy), Crispy Crunch (more chocolaty goodness) and peanut bits.  And onto a park bench I plunked.  No reaching out, just putting in.  Upon completion of consumption, I wandered over to the bandshell, where about 30 women in long gingham dresses were lined up, in front of young men in white shirts.  Nothing was happening. They were just standing there, with a man in a black suit facing them.

The conductor then raised his arms.  The choir raised their hymn books and a lovely sound came forth.  Expression.  These folks were Mennonites and favoured the audience with several hymns, including “Amazing Grace”, a favourite of mine.  None of the men and women smiled but the tones were pure.  Their expression reached me.  And I was glad to hear them.

Afterwards a young Mennonite fellow approached and invited me to come out to his church.  We talked, sending a gentle energy to each other.  I wanted to keep the dialogue going even though our spiritual perspectives differed.  To express with love is a blessing.

Back at home, I thought of the many kind expressions that we human beings give each other: smiling, dancing, speaking, holding hands, hugging, laughing …  So many.  I thought back to my teaching days, and the type of child that I worried about.  It wasn’t the rough-around-the-edges kid who might yell and swear.  It was the boy or girl who wouldn’t say boo, who wouldn’t show me anything of the Spirit inside.  I hope they’ve all found their way and are reaching out to their fellow beings every day.  The world needs them.  The world needs us all.

Giving Books

I’ve worried occasionally about how I’m going to give out 500 copies of the book I’ve written about Jody.  Today eased that concern considerably.

I started this morning at Parkwood Hospital, where Jody worked for 20 years.  There were five or six people I was trying to find, folks who had asked for a copy.  First I met a fellow who had been a colleague of Jody’s years ago, when she worked with veterans at the hospital.  He knew that Jody had died but not that I had written the story of her illness and death.  I sat on an angled stand that showed a map of the fourth floor and wrote some thankful words about him and Jody while he watched my pen move across the page.  I was thrilled to give the book to him and he was so happy to have it.

Within a few minutes, three women were gathered around me.  I felt a wee tiny bit like a rock star.  Two of the women had been looking forward to having Jody’s story but the third person was approaching me to let me know that she was going on the Heart and Stroke Big Bike Ride in June.  She was doing it in honour of Jody and another Parkwood occupational therapist who died recently.  I was so happy when I heard her news.  I mentioned that I had written a book about Jody and asked her if she’d like a copy.  She started crying … and kept going.  How very beautiful to be present for her tears.  She cried some more when I handed Jodiette: My Lovely Wife to her.

Later, in the elevator, I told a young woman how much fun I was having, signing Jody’s books.  She told me that she was an occupational therapy student.  “I saw a book in the office, with the photo of a woman on the cover.  Is that your wife?”  “Yes … … Would you like a copy?”  She lowered her head, paused, and said “yes”.  Such lovely shyness.  I sat with her for a few minutes in the cafeteria and wrote, “May you serve your patients with love, as Jody did.”

Next I drove over to one of the schools where I assisted visually impaired kids until I retired last June.  More inscriptions, more signings, and the chance to sit with a class of Grade 2/3 children and tell them about my dear wife.  What a privilege.

Then it was off to another school, where person after person welcomed me in the hallway, and several of them said yes to Jodiette.  The principal was so pleased to have me back in her school.  She had read many of my e-mails about Jody to her husband, and some of my thoughts touched them.  Gosh, that’s what I want in life – to touch people.  In the photocopier room, an old friend of mine said no to the book, and cried as she did so.  It had been too heartrending when she read some of my e-mails.  Not receiving Jody’s book was a good decision for her.

Okay, now it was hometime.  Should I follow suit?  Not quite.  I drove a few miles to The London Free Press.  A writer I had met on the train ten days ago had suggested I leave a copy for a certain columnist there, in hopes that he would review it in the paper.  So I did, attaching a note: “In a perfect world, someone at The Free Press would review my book.  But if that doesn’t happen, at least they can read a love story.”  Who knows what will happen?

One final stop: Chapters on Wellington Road South.  Would a big bookstore put our book on display?  A manager told me to e-mail the guy who’s responsible for consignments.  I’ll do that later tonight.  Who knows what will happen?  Again.  I left a copy for him.

An employee who had heard this conversation told me where I’d find books on Buddhism.  I found what looked like a good one and sat down on a chair to do some page flipping.  Okay, done deal.  I walked over to the till and there was my navigator friend.  As I paid for How To Wake Up, he wished me good luck with the consignment and said he’d buy a copy.  “How about if I give you one right now?”  (Pause.  “No, no.”  Smile.  “Well, okay.”)  So I did.

As I was heading towards the entrance, I glanced over to a young female employee who had also been there for the original conversation.  She was sitting at a desk, reading a book.  A familiar-looking book.  One with a beautiful woman on the cover … my Jodiette.  She smiled and said, “This is good.  I’m going to buy one when we display them.”

(Now’s the time for Copy and Paste.)

“How about if I give you one right now?”  (Pause.  “No, no.”  Smile.  “Well, okay.”)  So I did.

The world is a wonder.