Peter – I Remember Mama

Although it was 21 years ago, almost to the minute, I remember it like it was yesterday. While checking my home phone messages from my workplace, I found out that my mother had passed away. I was stunned. Eventually I stood up and went to my supervisor’s desk. I told him that my mother had passed. He was rather dismissive about it, he didn’t particularly like me. In a daze, I returned to my desk and tried to work. Shortly thereafter, the manager came to my desk and gently told me to go home. He was very sympathetic and kind, and was a glimmer of compassion in an otherwise horrible day.

Peter’s Sister Mary Matters

I have always tried to live my life according to a number of tenets. Some are arguably limited in scope. For example, I view beer drinking as a perishable skill. Others are much more “pigeon-holed”, such as, despite what many of my military aviation buddies may think, I truly believe that a McDonnell Douglas F-4E Phantom II in “Europe One” camouflage is a thing of beauty indeed.

Others are more universal in application, however. One of my nearest and dearest is that I have always tried to have strong women in my life, even if only on the periphery. Today’s column is about one of those women, my late sister Mary.

Peter, B-Ball, and the Rankled Ankle….

An old friend of mine presaged the colder temperatures that Toronto experienced a couple of weekends ago. I was at Lois’, and when getting up, winced when I put my weight on my right foot. Lois asked what was wrong, and I explained that I had “rolled my ankle” playing basketball 1). Her curiosity aroused, she asked when that had occurred, as in 16 years, she’s seen me hold beer cans and ballpoint pens, but never basketballs.