Who Are You? -- by Anne Shier

(Inspired by the book Zero Regrets by Apolo Ohno, eight-time Olympic medalist.)

Do you know who you are? Do you know who you want to be? How are you going to get where you want to go? These are just some of the questions that are covered in a career studies course in high schools all over, but they are not easy questions to answer. Why? That’s what we’re here to find out.

Perhaps we can discover part of the answer by looking at Apolo Ohno’s life as a young man and developing athlete to see what he did to become one of the greatest Olympic champions ever. It was not easy. His achievements were certainly not something that he just “lucked out” on. There was a lot of planning and thinking and dreaming and believing, not to mention an incredible training regimen he had to follow. People like Apolo don’t become Olympic champions without a lot of time, effort and pain. So who is Apolo Ohno, anyway? Why did he write Zero Regrets? How can his story help young people who are trying to find their own successes in this complex world?

Apolo Ohno is the most decorated American Winter Olympic athlete of all time, having won eight medals for short-track speed skating. Twelve-time holder of the men’s national speed skating title, he currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah. Zero Regrets[1] is the story of his relationship with his single Japanese father that deepened over time into love, respect and unshakeable faith in each other.

We all only have one life to live. What if today were to be the very last day of your life? What would you want to be remembered for the most: How hard you trained to be the best? That you had a dream and a vision and you chased your dream with everything you had in you? That the dream meant suffering pain and hardship at times? Yet you kept saying to yourself, “Zero Regrets” because you never wanted to feel that you had not given your chosen pursuit your best effort, each and every day of your life.

The same thing can be said for many different pursuits, not just sports. For example, I have been pursuing a writing career for several years now; it took more than seven years just to get my first book published. Since that time (March 2011), I’ve decided to make writing my career. Of course I am still a teacher; that career has been very rewarding to me and still is. But what I’m saying now is that if I want to achieve greatness in the fictional writing realm, I have to be able to take my writing to the next level.

I not only published my first book ever, I also had it widely publicized all over Canada and the United States. It wasn’t cheap to finance this, and it certainly wasn’t easy to be convinced of the critical importance of doing this part, but, now that the press campaign is complete, I also need to continue doing other things like promoting my book (or books, as the case may be), encouraging people to accept my book as a gift and read it; however, gradually they wish to do that and to give me feedback on whatever they read. I have to continually improve my writing.

To this end, my young niece (I’ll call her Erin) has the academic qualification of a master’s of English literature and has agreed to help me with my future writing. I need to improve my writing, just as a teacher needs to improve her teaching, and an athlete, like Apolo Ohno, needs to improve his skill level as well as his physical and mental conditioning for world-level competition. Without that consistent effort to improve performance, the best level anyone would probably ever achieve is mediocrity, but that is not good enough for me as a writer or a teacher, and it would definitely never satisfy Apolo Ohno in his pursuit of greatness in the short-track speed skating realm.

I aim to be a world competitor in my writing. For example, I would love to make it to the New York Times best-seller list at some point. I did fairly well in my three English courses at the University of Toronto and even better later at Seneca College, where I completed five English courses, each with an excellent grade. I was proud of having achieved this, but it was only the beginning. What it did was set the stage for later achievements in developing both my teaching and writing careers.

You might be wondering how I can do both careers at the same time. It’s not easy, but having taught for more than 13 years full time, I now feel fairly comfortable in my specialized field (computer science) and at the same time have developed competence in other subject areas too (namely computer technology, business technology and career studies). Because I love to teach, I will gladly work hard at improving my teaching skills for as long as I am an active teacher. All I know is that if you want something badly enough, you have to put at least 100 percent into it. You have to be very clear about what it is you have to do and then do it with everything you’ve got.

Never say die. Quitting is not an option.

Real victory is arriving at the finish line with no regrets. You go all out. And then you accept the consequences.

That’s what makes a champion—in sports, in business, in life and in your relationships with your family and friends. You go all out—with heart, with excitement and enthusiasm and, most of all, with soul.

copyright - Anne Shier, 2013, all rights reserved, published by Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, USA

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[1] Apolo Ohno. “Zero Regrets,” New York: Atria Books, 2011.

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[1] Back inside cover of the book, “Zero Regrets”, by Apolo Ohno, published by Atria Books, New York, NY 10020, copyright by Podium AAO, Inc. by Atria Books, New York, NY 10020, © by Podium AAO, Inc.

The Sexiest Guy -- by Anne Shier

The evening I met Sean was in my favourite karaoke bar, a place where I knew lots of people. I was well-known there because I had been associated with a married couple, Will and Corrine, who owned their own equipment and ran karaoke there on the weekends. The name of the bar was The Red Lion. I’d been a customer in this bar and a karaoke fan for years, but when I met Sean, I was not expecting to meet a guy like him.

Sean was so cute; he had dark-blond hair that was neat and fairly short. Looking at him, he reminded me of Kevin Costner when he played his leading role in that Whitney Houston movie, The Bodyguard. Sean was incredibly attractive like Kevin. He had clear-blue eyes that just caught my attention. They looked like “bedroom eyes.” I wasn’t accustomed to meeting many good-looking dark-blond, blue-eyed guys that I found attractive, but he certainly caught my attention. He was dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black dress pants and black shoes. In fact, he looked like he’d just left work and dropped off at the bar for a quick drink on the way home. I really wanted to get acquainted, so I sat near him, since he was sitting at a table near the front of the bar, close to where the karaoke was set up, which was where I normally sat during karaoke. Besides, he looked lonely, as if he wanted female companionship of some sort.

I introduced myself to him as Serena. I was a divorced, 30-something single woman with no serious attachments. However, I was not looking for a quick “roll in the hay” with Sean. He just looked like a guy I found very visually appealing. I wanted to talk to him to see if we had anything in common. If he was also single and 30-something, I felt I had nothing to lose. He was so cute and sexy, I had a really hard time concentrating on his words; I was too busy admiring his face and body. He looked like he was in really good shape physically; a young man with an athletic build was always appealing to me. Little did I know just how important this man would become in my life.

We spent a lovely evening chatting and laughing together. It had been such a long time since I’d met anyone of the opposite sex with whom I could interact in an intelligent and interesting way. It was obvious to me that he was very intelligent. It turned out that he was a paramedic-in-training. I have always been attracted to cute men in the medical profession who weren’t necessarily doctors but were trained in medical procedures. I only had one rule. If the man was my own personal physician, or dentist, or therapist, I drew the line at getting involved physically or emotionally with him. I really hate looking for medical caregivers, and those who were already in my life were the ones I wanted to keep.

Sean described to me what paramedics do in their line of work. I thought I knew what paramedics do already, but I was in for a shock. For example, he told me about a few horrific car accidents he’d attended, which constituted the bulk of his calls, in which one or more passengers and/or the driver had actually been decapitated or one or more of their limbs had been completely or partially severed or their wounds were deep, severe and life-threatening enough to create an immediate need for CPR, oxygen, splints, bandages, drugs, you name it. It takes a person with a very tough constitution to do that kind of work. It only made me admire him all the more.

I told him I was a college professor, that I taught math to first- and second-year college students. I described my students as being age anywhere from 18 upward. Some of the younger ones were amazingly mature for their age and a few older ones were just babies dressed up as adults—they were real whiners. For the most part though, I loved my work because I felt that I was making a real difference to people, and to me that meant helping them think about and solve problems of all kinds. This was the kind of life skill that anyone would benefit from having. I guess this got Sean’s attention because he listened attentively as I told him some of the amusing stories of things that had happened in class between me and my students.

By the end of the evening, I was totally smitten. He was irresistible. I ended up accepting a ride home with him that evening, since neither of us had been drinking much. At first I thought it was only going to be a ride home, but it turned into something quite different—a sexual experience that I cannot compare to any other that I’d ever had before. He was like a super athlete in bed—absolutely insatiable. I had known a few sexual athletes in my time, but he definitely took the cake. It was an affair that I cannot begin to describe because it was not like any other sexual experience I’d ever had.

My ex-husband, Derek, had been one of those men who’d thought sex was something that was only supposed to happen occasionally between married couples—and only when he wanted it. If I wanted sex with him, it was like pulling teeth; I’d be lucky if I found him in the mood for lovemaking. The funny thing is, I’d thought I really loved him in the beginning when I married him. Later I could see that he had used sex just to get me interested in him and to make the commitment to him—why, I still have no idea. Our marriage didn’t last long. Two to three years after we’d married, he found some other woman and left me for her, basically doing me a gigantic favour. Only problem was that I now had a young daughter, Ellen, to look after, and even though I loved her very much, it was very hard being a single mom.

It turned out that Sean had been married too. His ex-wife, Suzanne, was sexually frigid. Anytime he wanted to have sex with her, she was never in the mood for lovemaking. Eventually, she froze him out of her life, and he was left wondering why she had ever married him in the first place and yet remained legally married to him. I wondered if he still loved her. According to Sean, Suzanne and he were no longer living together as man and wife. She had her own life and he had his. Since they didn’t even live together anymore, that meant they were separated. He asked me if I could live with this situation that existed between them and I said I could. I was so bewitched by Sean’s charm and good looks that I was willing to believe whatever he told me. I wanted to believe him and I did. I think that was because I was falling deeply in love with him and refused to entertain the idea that he might be pulling my chain by lying to me.

Although it was sometimes difficult for us to get together, we continued seeing each other over the next several months. My feelings for Sean were getting deeper all the time. I suppose I should have stepped back and put the brakes on this rapidly developing relationship, but I couldn’t. He meant far too much to me. It never once occurred to me that Sean might not feel quite the same way about me.

One day, I asked him how he felt about me and he said that he liked me a lot and found me very attractive. I was flattered by his sentiments, but I wanted a lot more from him. He seemed unwilling or unable to give me anymore than he was already, so I asked him why. Sean, though hesitant at first, finally told me the real reason. Against all odds, he was still in love with his ex-wife, to whom he was still legally married. I then asked him what he planned to do about it, and he said he didn’t know. Then I said that if he wasn’t sure about being with me or loving me, I needed to take a break from him to rethink what was happening to me. Maybe this would give him sufficient time to determine who he really wanted to be with—her or me. As much as I loved doing karaoke, I was prepared to stay away for it for awhile until he decided what he wanted to do. It was going to be difficult for me to stay away from him, but I was determined to do what I had to. You can’t make someone love you, can you? No matter how much you want something like that, you can’t make it happen. That’s what I was about to unexpectedly find out.

Every time he called me at home on a Friday or Saturday night to ask me why I wasn’t at the bar doing karaoke, I told him that I was busy with some school project and could not be there that night. He would then tell me he missed me and ask me if he could come over to my place. But I had to refuse. After a few minutes of casual chatting without saying much of anything, we’d hang up and then I would fall apart and cry. I didn’t know how much more of this I could take. I berated myself for falling for some strange guy that I never really knew anything about. Crying my eyes out, I would go to bed, toss and turn for a while and then eventually cry myself to sleep. My heart was broken, but this was only the beginning.

A few weeks later, I finally mustered the courage to go to the bar. I resolved to do karaoke whether Sean was there or not and I would have a good time, regardless. When I arrived, I saw him sitting at a table in the far corner with another woman. I walked over to him and greeted him with some trepidation, and Sean greeted me back and introduced his woman friend as Marika. I nodded at her in greeting and went back to sit at my usual table at the front. Later I noticed that they were dancing rather closely, the way we used to dance. I guess I couldn’t help but stare at them.

When I could get him alone outside the washrooms, I asked him what she was doing there with him, and he insisted that she was “just a friend.” Meanwhile, he continued to insist that he had missed me. By now though, I was suspicious enough to find out for myself rather than believe him. Later on, I encountered Marika in the ladies’ washroom and asked her casually how long she’d known Sean and she said that they had known each other for a couple of years and had dated on and off over time. And then it hit me—He’s a ladies’ man! He loves the attention that women give him! If he can’t be with the one he loves (his ex-wife), he’ll love the one he’s with (right now, Marika). I was shocked yet not shocked.

Mostly I was relieved that I was not involved with him anymore, nor likely to be again. With that, I wished her and Sean luck in the future and left the bar. Months later, I heard rumours via the karaoke grapevine that Sean had knocked her up and that she wanted to have his baby. Not only that, apparently, she already had two kids from a previous marriage, or so I’d heard. I had no idea how Sean felt about this event, but I told myself it didn’t matter anymore.

        We’d had an affair to remember, to be sure. But would I ever want this to happen to me again? No. I promised myself that if I didn’t learn my lesson from this affair, then I hadn’t really learned anything at all about men and what motivates them. All I knew for sure was that he was the sexiest guy I’d ever met or probably ever would meet, and I’d have to be content with that lovely memory.

copyright - Anne Shier, 2013, all rights reserved, published by Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, USA

The Starvers -- by Anne Shier

(Inspired by an article in the Toronto Sun, March 2011.)

Cruel and inhumane are adjectives often used to describe people who commit heinous crimes—that is, crimes so horrible that no amount of prison time or ineligibility for parole could possibly be sufficient for these criminals to pay for their actions. Other expletives might well include “extraordinary” or “excessive” cruelty and “incalculable” inhumanity, especially in this particular case.

My name is Nancy Graham. I am a court reporter who saw this case being tried in the courts, and I could not contain my abject feelings of horror with respect to the accused, a senior couple, and the crime of murder for which they were being tried. It was another case of “man’s [gross] inhumanity to man”—this time with a very young child as the poor, hapless victim.

Now, try imagining yourself as a juror in the murder trial of the grandparents of this starved young child. The baby, who had weighed 22 pounds at 15 months of age, now weighed only 22 pounds at the time of his death when he was a child of 5 years of age. This couple had been starving their grandchild for more than 4 years!

The Crown and defence attorneys must have found it extremely difficult to find suitable jurors for such a trial. Number one—eligible jurors cannot have prior knowledge (from public media, etc.) about the crime or accused in question. Number two—eligible jurors would have had to convince the attorneys for both sides that they could make an impartial judgment based on all the relevant facts. And number three—eligible jurors cannot have a bias against seniors simply by thinking senior citizens are not capable of committing such horrible crimes. However, as difficult as it must have been, a suitable jury was finally assembled for the trial.

In 2006, this senior couple was eventually convicted of the November 2002 second-degree murder in the starving death of their young grandson. They were each sentenced to at least 20 years to life in prison for the “grotesque severe-malnutrition killing” of their grandson. The couple actually had the nerve to appeal their second-degree murder convictions and lengthy parole ineligibility terms (as being “excessive”) in March 2011! But, thank God, both appeals were denied by the Ontario Court of Appeal. The decision was handed down by the Associate Chief Justice without his even asking for any input from the Crown attorneys who were, naturally, opposing any such appeal by this couple. The 69-year-old woman, Elva Bottineau, was ordered to serve 22 years in prison, and the man, her common-law husband, was ordered to serve 20 years in prison before being allowed to apply for parole.      

The couple’s defence attorneys were still arguing with the Justice of the Ontario Court of Appeal that the periods of their parole ineligibility were “excessive,” particularly in comparison with a similar case in the past involving a father and stepmother who had been convicted of killing their 7 year old son in 1998. The Justice was dumbfounded, to say the least, at their argument. It was difficult for him to put his utter revulsion into words.

Fortunately, as far as the Justice was concerned, the defence team could not make its case for appealing the parole ineligibility terms of the two convictions.

The young child victim, Jeffrey Baldwin, almost 6 years of age, ended up dying of septic shock and pneumonia, which were complications of his severe malnutrition. It was a truly horrible way for a young child, or anyone for that matter, to die.

It made me think of a similar situation of a good friend arising last year that began as a bout with the flu. In April 2010, a close friend of my family, Ed, became very ill and ended up in the hospital for two full weeks in the ICU with a tube stuck down his throat because he couldn’t breathe properly. The symptoms that had landed him in the ICU were the same as young Jeffrey’s symptoms—septic shock and pneumonia—only Ed’s symptoms were triggered, I believe, by something approaching diabetic shock (an insufficient amount of insulin). That’s because he’s a diabetic who wasn’t taking his insulin as he should have been during his bout with the flu. He must have been suffering terribly for days before his hospitalization and finally, his family had to call 911 when they could see, clearly, that he was incoherent and unresponsive to any kind of verbal stimuli. According to his family, he actually looked like he was at death’s door by the time they called 911. Fortunately, he did recover completely even though the recovery process took a very long time and the doctors had to continue watching his health very carefully for months.

In a sense, if a person has never been in that situation before, it would be impossible to imagine what it feels like to be that ill, but young Jeffrey was dying long before he actually expired. It could probably be likened to slow death from cancer, in my mind, and we all know what a horrible disease cancer is.

         Personally, I believe this senior couple got off relatively easy during trial. If there were still a death penalty available, this couple would certainly have qualified for it. I have zero sympathy for people who hurt other people, especially children. Not only that, Jeffrey was their grandson. No, those two people should rot in hell. Their lengthy prison sentences would hopefully end up being a far worse punishment for them than a simple lethal injection. That’s my feeling about this case, and I believe a lot of other people out there would agree wholeheartedly with me in this regard.

copyright - Anne Shier, 2013, all rights reserved, published by Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, USA

Encounter with Student "X" -- by Anne Shier

I’d always dreamed of being a teacher. It’s one of the professions in which a woman can effectively compete with her male colleagues and excel. At least it was until I met student “X” (a.k.a. Alex) in one of my classes. This young man would make me seriously re-evaluate my decision to become a teacher because he tested my patience each and every day, in each and every way. And even though my other students were having no problems learning the material I taught them, he gave me the distinct impression that no matter what I said or how I said it, he was not going to be able to absorb it. That didn’t mean he was stupid (I knew he wasn’t), but according to him, my communication skills stank.

Every day without fail, during or after my lesson he would say, “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Make some sense for once, will you?”

Student X was the “student from hell.” From the first day he walked through my door, he showed me how obnoxious and rude a student could be. When I first started teaching the Java computer programming language, I could tell it would not be easy for anyone to get through the course. It was one of the first times anyone was teaching Java in a high school and Alex’s first time taking it. It was supposed to be a Grade 12 course, so I was to assume that these students already had some programming background (in the Turing programming language). I felt that I understood Java well enough to teach it, but I was prepared to teach things more slowly if needed. I had to be able to accommodate my students’ needs as much as possible, since I knew it would be a struggle for them to learn this new language in the assignments and projects that I would be giving them.

You might wonder why I felt I had to put up with Alex’s attitude and behaviour. The truth was I didn’t have to. Every day and every time he was obnoxious to me, I responded in kind by pointing to the door and offering him the opportunity to walk out anytime he wanted. I said this to him in front of the whole class. I did not want him in my class at all. I even told him I didn’t want to talk to him anymore either. If he wanted to learn Java from me, I would teach it to a couple of his so-called “buddies” who sat at the back of the class (that he could relate to in a civil way) and that they could teach him what I had taught them. Things went on this way, uneasily, for a while. It almost seemed bearable.

One day, he told me he was going to lodge a complaint against me with the principal. I asked him what he wanted to complain about, and he said he was going to tell the administration that I could not teach Java “worth a damn” and that he objected to me as his teacher of this course.

I thought, Okay, buddy, you want to fight … fine, let’s fight. But what you don’t know is that I am very good at fighting and at winning arguments. I’ve had far worse than you to deal with in the past.

I replied, “Just tell me when you want to meet with the principal or vice principal and I’ll be there. I am more than prepared to tell them the truth about who you really are in my classroom.”

I tried not to think about this upcoming meeting that we were to have, but I couldn’t help but be a little nervous. When the day came that I was to meet with Raymond, one of the vice principals, I went into his office and sat down.

He greeted me affably enough and told me my student would be with us shortly. Before the meeting started, I told Raymond very calmly, “Yes, let’s do have a meeting. We need to clear the air about a few things. But if he starts cussing me out, I’m leaving. I am not putting up with his crap anymore, here or in my classroom.”

To which Raymond replied, “No problem … if he starts attacking you or behaving in some confrontational way, you just leave.”

I thought, Does Raymond really mean that? I don’t think he knows anything about Alex and what he’s capable of saying to or about me!

Soon Alex came in, and we sat in our respective corners of the office, and Raymond said very reasonably to Alex, “Okay, tell us what your problem with Ms. Sullivan is, and we will try to figure out something that can solve your problem.”

Alex then said, “Well, let me start off by saying that Ms. Sullivan is the worst teacher I’ve ever had. She has no idea how to teach Java. I haven’t got the faintest idea of what she is teaching. It all sounds like Greek to me.”

Raymond then turned to me and asked me what I wanted to say.

I replied, “Alex, you have never even tried to understand the Java language. Right from the very start, you have been extremely rude and confrontational toward me even before I started to teach you anything. Maybe if you apologize to me now and agree to apply yourself seriously to learning what I’ve been able to teach everyone else in this class, you might be able to stay in my class, but if Mr. Bowen here gives me the option, I will ask that you be removed from my class right now.”

At this point, Alex completely lost his temper and starting screaming obscenities at me. It happened to be lunchtime, and lots of students and teachers were milling around the main office. They couldn’t have helped but hear the ruckus.

I thought, This is a losing battle. I am leaving right now before I lose it!

I firmly said, “Well, I’m leaving!” And without another word, I walked out of Raymond’s office with Alex still screaming at me at the top of his lungs.

I walked down the hall to the computer science office, went inside and closed the door. I did not apologize to anyone about what I had done. I felt I had done the only thing I could under the circumstances. Experience had taught me long ago that I could argue with people in a sensible way as long as I stayed calm and reasonable, but if I lost my temper, that would put me at a serious disadvantage and I would probably lose the argument. In this case, since I did not have any intention of losing this argument, I left. If the school board wanted to discipline me in some way for not putting up with crap from this student, so be it. Under those circumstances, I felt I would not have any regrets about not being a teacher anymore. However, they would have a real fight on their hands if they wanted to press the issue. So I decided to adopt a “wait-and-see” attitude. Would the administration take Alex’s side or mine? Was the administration going to stand up for one of its teachers or believe this one student who had always been an obnoxious person at school?

Meanwhile, until I heard otherwise, I was still the teacher of record of this particular programming course in Java, and I was determined to get through it, one way or another.

As it happened, I was never disciplined or even reprimanded for my actions that day. It seemed I had been one of the few (if not the only) teacher to stand up to this punk kid who apparently thought he could bully his way through school. None of his other teachers had ever confronted him or the administration about his behaviour and attitude toward teachers and other people in positions of authority over him.

When I think about it all now, I realize I did the only thing I could. I had to stand up to Alex because if I didn’t, that meant anyone could push me around anytime and get away with it. I was not about to let that happen. I wanted everyone at school, especially the administration, to know I was not going to be bullied by anyone and if they didn’t like it, they could take up the matter with a judge in a court of law, as far as I was concerned. No one has the right to make another person’s life miserable, and I wanted to make a statement to that effect. I wanted the teachers and the students and the administration to know I did the only thing I could to maintain my dignity in a situation where my dignity was being severely challenged. And I’m really glad I did.

copyright - Anne Shier, 2013, all rights reserved, published by Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, USA

Tied Down -- by Anne Shier

Have you ever wondered what all the meanings of “tied down” are? I’ve discovered there are actually quite a few, depending on the circumstances and context.

        My name is Rachel Freeman. The immediate thought that I have whenever I’ve heard that phrase is another phrase that is associated with marriage. You know, the thing that married people sometimes say (affectionately) to others when referring to their spouse: “Well, there goes the old ball and chain.” It sounds on the surface like an insult, but I think it’s really supposed to be a kind of weird compliment; that you got married to this person with the best of intentions and made a commitment for life (you hope) to this other person. In addition, I think that, as a married person, you might not like openly admitting to having chosen to take on this huge legal obligation for the rest of your life; it’s sort of like saying, “Yes, I got married, and like every other married person out there, I sometimes rebel at the idea; however, most of the time, it’s okay.” Does that mean people don’t like marriage, per se? No, but what I do think is that it means the facts of marriage are usually very different from the ideals.

 Other people may think of being “tied down” as something that happens when you are taken gravely ill and must stay in a hospital bed for a few weeks or more. What I mean is—you can’t get out of bed because you’ve been rendered immobile for a time and now, you need other people to take care of you until you can move around on your own. As horrible as it sounds, at times like this, you need nurses to help you use the portable bathroom facilities (a bed pan) while stuck in a hospital bed that is situated in a public ward with nothing but a thin curtain separating you from all the other people sharing your room. There is no privacy whatsoever and it’s as humiliating as hell. I know what that’s like.

 You could also think of being “tied down” as being certified mentally incompetent (crazy) and now, you have to be literally “tied down” to the hospital bed. This is done to protect you from hurting yourself or others. I know people are sometimes put into this situation, although I don’t personally know anybody like this.

  Alternatively, you may not actually be crazy, but you’ve just been accused of a horrible crime, in which you were hurt, and now have to be “tied down” to the bed so that you can’t just get up and walk out of the hospital of your own accord. In that case, a police officer or security guard would have to be stationed outside your hospital room door so that you cannot leave at will.

  Personally, being certified as crazy or being accused of a horrible crime has never happened to me. What did happen to me was to have to depend on paramedics and doctors and nurses and physiotherapists and massage therapists and homecare people to help me get back on the road to mobility after my very serious car accident in the spring of 2000. That was definitely not my idea of how to live my life for the next six to eight months following my accident, but when I consider the alternative, there was little choice. It was far better than death.

  A very sad story comes to mind regarding this kind of thing. My uncle, Cecil (“Cec” for short), was diagnosed with kidney disease in the early 1980s. I only found out about it then because my sister, “Saz,” and I were visiting with his family at the time where they lived just outside Sudbury, Ontario. After a brief visit at their farm, Saz and I continued on our trip out west to Calgary, Alberta. That was where I had been planning to move so I could look for work and a place to live; Saz was just helping me move and get settled there. While visiting with Uncle Cec, we became unwilling witnesses to this tragic occurrence involving him and his family.

  Uncle Cec was forced to take dialysis treatments three times a week at Sudbury General Hospital as a result of his very sudden massive kidney failure. At this point in his life, he was definitely “tied down” to his dialysis treatments and would not have survived without them. A few years later, with the circulation in his legs also gradually deteriorating, both legs had to be amputated at the hip. This meant he was now “tied down” to a wheelchair for life. I couldn’t help but think what a tragedy this was for him. He had been such a handsome, strong and strapping young man when I met him at his wedding to my Aunt Marlene; he had always been one of my favourite uncles.

  Other people’s idea of being “tied down” has to do with being forced to do a job that they absolutely hate doing. The sad fact is, if you really hate your job that much, it probably means you’re always watching the clock. Every minute seems like an hour, every hour seems like a day, and every day seems like a week. Time drags by very slowly. Is that any way to live and work? Certainly not.

  Yet another meaning of being “tied down” might be the way you feel when you are unable to make plans to move somewhere else, like another city, when things aren’t going so well in your life. I suppose you might interpret this wish as running away, but still, it would be nice just to have the option.

           The point I want to make here is that being “tied down” is a fact of life. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing, however. It can be a good thing. If you are committed to something bigger than you in your life, it gives your life purpose. However, if you are a free agent and want to make all your own decisions all the time, you may well be one of the luckiest people in the world. Whether you’re a single person or not, happiness in life is something you really have to work at to achieve. If that means being “tied down” to someone or something, then that’s what it means. But if it means being a free agent in your own life instead, and not having to answer to anyone else, that’s okay too.

copyright - Anne Shier, 2013, all rights reserved, published by Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, USA

The Dance Must Go On -- by Anne Shier

(From the web site:  http://dance.about.com/od/typesofdance/tp/Dance_Types.htm)

Dance is a group of different activities that has fascinated me for a long, long time.  When I was a young girl, my mother enrolled me for at least 3 years of ballet and tap dance classes.  From there, I went into gymnastics, specializing in free exercise, as well as, modern dance and jazz.  I liked most of the other forms of dance too, but it wasn’t until just recently (June 2011) while viewing a dance recital by a dance company called “A.M. Dance Force Inc.” that I truly began to appreciate the intricacies and complexities of dance.

My roommate, Dale, and I had been invited by his granddaughter’s mother, Delia, to come to a recital that would be presented by this dance company of which his 3 year old granddaughter, Kara, was a member.  I thought that there was just going to be some little kids dancing around on the stage, but it turned out to be oh-so-much more than that!  Young women and a few young men, aged anywhere between 3 and 18, did dances of many different types, all excellently choreographed to music of different types.  These young people (women, mostly) wore elegant dance costumes that must have cost a small fortune.  They looked so professional in them, I was positive that if any of these young people wanted to become professional dancers in the future, they’d be hard-pressed to find a better dance company from which to have obtained practical experience.  And, that’s what dance takes – lots of practice!

I was suitably impressed with the large variety of dances, the choreography, the costumes, the music and, most of all, the raw talent of these young dancers!  They did all kinds of dances:  modern, contemporary, hip-hop or “krump”, if you like, jazz, ballet, gymnastics free exercise, and tap dancing.  They also did these dances in small groups of 2 to 9, and several were solo dances done by the teenage girls.  Some of the dances were done by very young girls who were only about 3 like Kara and had to be guided by their teacher who also did their routine along with them at the side of the stage during their performance.  These little girls were so cute, lovable and beautiful, that their performances were applauded loudly afterwards.  Everyone thought that they were the highlight of the afternoon!

These performances were something for which I had not been prepared!  The stage, the lighting, and the sound were all superbly done.  The only things I did not like were the seats.  They were built for little people, not for people who are “bigger than average” (like me, so to speak!).  I got fairly uncomfortable sitting in my seat after a while.  Since the performances went on non-stop for about 2 hours before the intermission, it was a long time to sit in one spot.  You couldn’t move around very easily in those seats.  But, other than that, I was riveted to the spot.  I just cannot imagine anything more profound than what I saw in this small school’s auditorium that day.  I was truly impressed with the performances of all the dancers – mainly, the sheer professionalism they all displayed.  The pool of talent was truly impressive, as well.

You might be interested in knowing more about the types of dances that exist.  Many of them were performed that day, but there are many other types, as well.  Contemporary dance is like a combination of jazz and ballet, done to modern or classical music, and includes acrobatic moves such as those you would normally see in a gymnastics free exercise routine.  It is one of my favourite forms of dance.  The best performers are those whose repertoire of moves is large and whose execution is virtually flawless.  Contemporary dance can be done in couples or solo.  Jazz is a type of dance that is usually done in groups or solo.  Jazz incorporates styles of dance other than ballet, like salsa, waltz, tango, etc. and, like contemporary dance, is very interpretative.  The music used in jazz is usually upbeat and modern and will add much flair to a person’s jazz routine.  The important difference is that jazz does not incorporate acrobatic moves like contemporary dance does.    

If you’ve ever seen tap dancing on stage, you will have learned to appreciate the intricacies of this style of dancing.  The tap dancer must wear special “tap” shoes.  The taps are made of metal and are part of the soles of the dancer’s shoes.  The dancer must tap a rhythm that goes with the music and there are many different rhythms that dancers can do.  The premier example of this style of dance is the “Riverdance” performance that is done by many different performers at the same time on the international stage to music of many different tempos, constantly changing.  From what I have learned about “Riverdance”, it is extremely physically challenging to the dancers who participate on a nightly basis.  They must learn how to care for their feet and legs, yet are still very prone to injury.   But, for those who are involved in nightly performances, their love for this style of dance cannot be denied.  Both men and women have been known to get involved in tap dancing.  Those who perform on stage are excellent performers. 

Another style of dance that appeals to some people is still rather new to me, that is, hip-hop or “krump”.  This dance style does not resemble the ballet or gymnastics moves with which I am most familiar.  It, more or less, resembles a style of “street dancing”.  The toes of the dancer aren’t pointed, the knees aren’t usually straight and the moves themselves aren’t fluid - they are sort of jerky - unusual, to say the least.  But, there is a tempo in the music to which the dancers must adhere and a particular style of music (“hip-hop”) for which this style of dance was created.  I can’t say that I really love this style, but it does look interesting at times, especially when the dancer interprets the music well.  It’s a style that can be done in groups, couples or solo.  I think young men like this style more than young women do; it seems to suit them better for some reason (or maybe it’s just my imagination!).  If you love hip-hop music, then you will probably love this “krump” style of dancing.  It takes some getting used to, but when you do, you will have learned to appreciate what it takes to be a good “krumper”!

All in all, “A.M. Dance Force Inc.” is like a professional company made up of many young amateur dancers that, I believe, are aspiring to be professional dancers.  The work ethic, the variety of dance types, the physical attributes of the dancers, their performance levels and the very professional staging each contribute to the huge success of this annual dance recital event, as well as, to the future success of each participant in the world of dance.