I am Canada

Yesterday at Hannah's school a number of parents came in and talked about the countries they came from and shared with the preschoolers their flags and culture. Hannah attends a unique kind of school (especially for Orange County) that focuses on children and teachers from international climes. From aged 2-3 Hannah received instruction from German, Japanese and Hispanic teachers, then 'graduated' to Japanese, Austrian and ASL (American Sign Language). Currently she is with a German teacher but is given direct exposure to the other teachers so that she doesn't loose the Japanese et al. that she has already absorbed. Everywhere else but America we would look at this multicultural opportunity as a necessity for our child's development and 'think global' mentality. Here, we look at it as a luxury. To some, it is considered 'crunchy' 'liberal' and out of the main stream.

But I digress.

Hannah, seeing the Canadian flag loudly exclaimed "I am Canada" "My Daddy is also Canada".
The teacher (Ms. Uris, an Austrian national) explained to Hannah, that she was not Canada, but 'Canadian'.

I am an American, but my husband (Hannah's daddy) is Canadian, and I have thought long and hard about what makes us Americans so darn different from our neighbors up north (they would say that they are actually, neighbours...but again, I digress.)

Canadians, in my experience, seem to be so much happier...so much funnier, and so much less focused on the 'political' aspects of life. Even their politicians are less political. Canadians are great story tellers, but in a way so different than the typical Amercian. That 'Big Fish' mentality doesn't seem to exist. Instead, there is humor in the daily grind, the trip to the donut shop, the history of curling, the battle over a beloved hockey anthem and the widow who owns it. Steve Martin, George Carlin...they could have been Canadian. It is so down to earth, so self deprecating, and so hilariously funny to those of us living our lives one day at a time.

Canadian men seem to have nothing to prove and have little or no rancor towards their fellow man. The guy at the Jiffy Lube will spend an extra hour telling you about his dear old Gran...the waiter at your favorite pub will set up a seat and talk about his struggle to find the perfect apartment. The bagger at the grocery store, well, he has a cottage right by yours, and HEY, you might actually be related!!

Get a group of American guys together and the measuring stick comes out. Get a group of Canadian men together and they work hard to see who can make the other guy shoot beer from his nose (all in good fun).

Ron struggled with American insincerity when he first arrived. The typical HR response of 'we love you, will call you' always got his heart racing and his expectations up. The inevitable false friendly was foreign to him.

I can't wait to stop looking over my shoulder.

Divorce?

I have been doing a lot of thinking about Divorce. The dictionary definition states that divorce means: disassociate, part, cease or break association with. This is contrary to my experience with divorce pretty much across the board. Divorce, when there are children involved is anything but a disassociation. It is a wrenching, Solomon-like process where the hurt and anger in the adults involved spills over like acid to the child or children in the middle.

Robbie went through parental divorce. If divorces could be 'pretty', mine and Scott's was as pretty and packaged as we could make it. There were no sordid battles, arguments over money or Robbie. We agreed to agree and fairly shared our son's precious time. We, even today, are flexible and open and co-parent, presenting Robbie with a united front, but...for Robbie, this is still hard. Very hard. Since the age of three he has had two homes, two rooms, two different sets of parents. He has to choose when and where to spend his holidays and who to spend them with and where his favorite flip flops are currently residing. He also has to reconcile the fact that Dad has a full minivan of little one's and Mom has added new sister and embrace both families as his own.

Ron has said that the hardest part of growing up was figuring out where to belong. He has a sister who shares the same parents and shares his difficulties. Robbie is the only child of Scott and I. Myongoing goal is to make sure that Robbie feels he fits in. That our family is his family and that he is a key member is always at the forefront of my mind. This is more challenging then one would think. He is with us half the time, misses half the events and only shares half the holidays. In a year and a half, he goes to college and we start a brand new life (as does he). Will he seek a separate community of 'family' like Ron did or will he always feel that our family is where his home is, no matter where we reside.

I hope so.

Waterloo

Billy called last night. He is Ron's youngest brother. Billy has, it seems, followed in Ron's footsteps. Laurier University, Pikes, academically exceptional, hard working, hard drinking--and popular with the 'ladies'. He has strived for 'up and out' since an early age. With a 14 year age difference, and the physical overlap of only 4 years of life in their father's home, it is hard to believe that Ron was the only driving force of influence in Billy's life. Ron Senior, their father, held his boys (and daughter) to a high (almost lofty) standard. My image of Ron Senior is that of a Willy Lomanesque character. A thoughtful man, bright and inquisitive, who, with the right influences and a stronger sense of self esteem would have had a larger positive impact on his world. He was the quintessential salesman--the definition of someone doing deals over the 'three martini' lunch. The wheeler and dealer with the little black book, the endless supply of dreams and schemes and when, after a lifetime of excess, he passed on at 54, he nevertheless, left a legacy. Some of it was good...some not so good.



This made me think about the argument of nature versus nurture and the Hutzul's in general.



The Hutzul family (Ron and Billy's father's family) are a clannish group. Looking at the pictures prolifically posted on Ancestry.com by Uncle Glen--the family historian, and hearing the many stories, the Hutzul/Novokowsky (I may have spelled that wrong) family are of exceptionally hardy farm stock (with a priest and a nun among their ranks--an insurance policy to heaven?)



Ron's great grandfather on the Hutzul side was a immigrant to Canada from the Ukraine. The Hutzul's (or Hutzel's) were a tribe of mountain people in the Carpathian mountains. They had Hutzul horses and Hutzul dances and Hutzul tales, and even had a nation of Hutzuls until the governments surrounding them figured it out and put the kibosh on their pretensions of autonomy.



The center of Ron's extended family was Nana (a Novokosky). She passed away when Ron was 13 and a year before Billy was born, yet she seems to be the guiding force for the younger generation of Hutzuls. 3 out of 5 granddaughters have the middle name Marie (as does Hannah, a great granddaughter) and the family speaks reverently of this short, comforting, 4 foot 10 woman who managed to raise 5 boys and a girl on her husbands limited income. We have the 'legendary' wooden spoon. Her equalizer, from what I understand. Blind in her later years, she seems to have indelibly marked the family with her wisdom, optimism and fierce family loyalty. All that are Hutzul have and spread these values.



So if you think in terms of 'nature' or the genetic predisposition towards certain attributes, are Billy and Ron the products of nature? Independent, competitive, fiercely loyal and always striving.



I think so.

Heading out of the driveway

Blogging about myself doesn't make sense to me. Who am I to say anything to anyone about anything? I am a mom of two, the former wife of two, the current wife of one, and a serial career thrill seeker. Daughter, Mother, Sister, Aunt and in law (and with some of my husbands family, out law) Nuff said...

What then, do I want to blog about?

My larger than life husband, my artistic brilliant son, and my effervescent daughter. My flexible moorings.

Ron currently has blond hair (and by blond I mean bleached) and is revelling in the multiple cases of mistaken identity. You see, he bleached his hair for Halloween (in a fit of 'Vampire' sympathy) but his true purpose was to 'channel' the look and personality of a certain Food Network pseudo celebrity. Is there a reason Ron can pull of the orange clogs, the overalls, the ball caps turned backwards and the bright red sweatshirts? I think it is because while very handsome, he has physical characteristics that leans towards caricature. A cartoonist recently did a quick drawing and the resemblance was uncanny. When heads turn and he becomes the center of attention, he grins (widely I might add) with a certainty that this is no less than what he deserves from his adoring public.

What a sharp contrast to Robbie who at 6 foot 3 is unsure of what being in the public eye and under scrutiny means to him. As he heads toward those heady years of early adulthood, he fluctuates in his resolve to be the master of his own destiny. He loves drama (the person behind a character) and reads avidly (to escape?). The multiple sets of young twins on his fathers side keep him from too much attention and in our home, he struggles to find a balance in our relationship--transitioning from his life 'before Ron' to the life we all share. That he is scary smart makes him more thoughtful, but no less unsure of who he should be.

Hannah--Are all little girls princesses? Do all princesses understand the sophisticated concept of 'intolerance'? Do all adults? The mercurial shifts from 3 year old to 30 year old are keeping me on my toes. When it comes to Hannah, I am out of my league (she is better with makeup and lipstick then I am) and I am constantly looking at her pretty little face to see if I had a hand in her at all. How do we keep this sense of self esteem going? What happens when the world does not continue to reinforce the 'cuteness' and she needs to go deeper than the skin to be the beauty that she is?

Thanksgiving is coming. Do people think about the name of this holiday? Thanks and Giving.
Thank you.