Ice & Fire

"I could not believe we are doing this." Yan murmured in a voice that could only be heard by us while looking at the icicles long and short popping down from the roof.

"Too bad cameras are not allowed here.  Otherwise we could take the pictures as keepsake for our bravery." I continued. 

"Lin recommended this place but she could not make it herself because of her little boy." Jun sighed.

At the exchange of this conversation, we were sitting around the fire pit in swimming suit outside with minus 10 degree Celsius at Scandinave Spa, a reclusive haven for weary skiers 5 kilometres from Blue Mountain, the largest ski resort in Ontario.  At the reception earlier, a lady taught us the process of hot-cold-relax at the Spa.  We followed her instructions to the letter by gushing into different hot tubs first and then torturing ourselves in the non-heated pools for a few seconds before rushing to the sanctuary where we could get the only chance to relax in unfreezing temperature.  This was already our 3rd round.  And we decided this time to stay beside the fire pit for a few minutes in the open air as the alternative for cold water.  As much as it sounded crazy, the effect of this process was actually astounding.  I dozed off at least twice in the relaxing rooms.  The sores and aches in my muscles from the previous day ski were miraculously gone.

By the time we completed our "adventure", our kids almost finished their day at the ski camp on Blue Mountain.  At the pick-up spot, we found that the kids made no less accomplishments with some of them including mine venturing onto black, double diamond and even mogul trails.  While the kids were still babbling excitedly about their experience today on the backseat, we already pulled over at the cottage.  Once inside, in no time did the kids jump out of their heavy snow jackets and pants, they automatically formed their small-play groups over DS, table tennis, TV and mini-camp downstairs and upstairs.  We adults, as usual, gathered in the spacious living and dining room on the upper floor.

The idea to spend this Christmas with 7 families together under the same roof was initiated by Lin, a good friend of mine two and half months ago.  While busy with her usual routine and quarter/year-end risk capital reporting at work and as a mother of 3-year and 7-year old boys at home, she invested considerable amount of time and efforts locating an appropriate place for 22 persons including 10 kids ranging from 3 to 8 years old and co-ordinating the trip like the mother of all the families with detailed instructions, safety measures, proposed fun activities and schedules etc.  A week before the trip, she called on a meeting among all us ladies over the lunch to recap all her instructions.  Laughing all the way through the lunch, we parted with one common strong desire: to look forward to this trip.

On the day of our arrival, we found that our chief leader and three other families broke one of her own rules by taking almost half of their kitchen stuff at home to the cottage instead of our discussed share of food.  With so much "raw materials" and snacks, our original plan to dine out on Christmas night seemed no longer feasible.  Theoretically, two cooks spoil the broth.  Practically more than two cooks with excellent skills effectively make the feast.  Among all the moms, Jun was undoubtedly the crown chef and our nutrition expert with Yan and Lin as the best support. Under Jun's leadership in the kitchen, preparing food for 22 persons was like a piece of cake now.  With so much variety of choices in food and cozy surroundings, eating in the cottage turned out to be one of the best parts during our entire stay.     

On the hills, Beilin and her hubby were definitely the queen and king.  But despite the king's authority and skillsets, he could not stop Yan from walking half way down the green trail.  He later confessed that he never sweated as much when helping Yan on the hill as on the black ski trail himself.  Two black horses came out from nowhere.  One hour earlier, Yiwei and Yingfang, two young moms were still on the bunny hill.  In a second, they zoomed from green to blue trails.  Tricked by their seemingly easiness for control, Lin managed to get onto the lift to land on the top of the green only to find herself trapped.   With a few bad falls, she gave up the green after two successful yet difficult tries and back to the bunny hill to beef up the basics.

In the evening after the dinner, while the kids were huddling together in groups, we adults sat down naturally beside the huge dining table or in the long couches to continue the unfinished conversation at the dinner.   We had several good "lectures" on real estate market trend in Toronto from Wei, Xiaoyin's hubby though his last lesson was conducted in a half-sleep mode after ski for a whole day during the daytime and several hours at night.  We laughed at Beilin's unnecessary worries about her hubby's safety and comforted her that her hubby would listen to her not to risk himself in the narrow black trail under the dim light in the evening.  We chatted about parenting issues and fun things about our kids.  The lively conversation dragged on to late night after all the kids went to bed.  We followed this routine every day at the cottage and nobody seemed to get tired of it. 

On our last night, when the discussion centered on banking,  I took a break and flipped through again the emails I received in the past several days from our friends on vacation around the world in Austria, Cuba, Italy and Egypt etc.  In addition to Christmas wishes, each seemed to have some story to tell about their trips.   Remembering three much talked about movies in China released recently in time to celebrate New Year, I started to write my reply:

"When Li and Daju's family was about to undergo the Sacrifice of their trip in London, UK (英氏孤儿) instead of Austria, they managed to alter their doomed destiny and fulfil their dream by finding a car and chauffeur among the chaos and being driven all the way through the English Channel and Europe Continent to their final destination.


Much encouraged by our own courageous exposure to the cold while half naked at Scandinave Spa, we would keep up the same spirit on Blue Mountain.  Despite numerous falls, we were determined to continue to Let the Ski Fly (让雪橇飞) on the hills.


Ten years ago, Shirley and Lubo's family paid their first visit to Cuba.  If Cuba is the Place (非古巴勿游2), where else shall they and their friends go this time?  Though time flies, they have aged with grace.  Similar to the political and cultural scenes in Cuba which have remained unchanged,  the romantic bond between the two has been maintained as deep as before over the years..."

I finished my email and sent it out along with my New Year blessings to all.  The enthusiasm at the table did not diminish at all when I was busy typing on the blackberry.   I took a deep breath and walked over to the gigantic French window facing the silver trails lit under the rows of lights on Blue Mountain.  Looking down through the window, I spotted vaguely in the dark several icicles hanging down under the railings of the balcony. It was chilly outside.  Turning around, I caught at the room centre corner the fire dancing merrily around the log in the fireplace.  It was warm inside.   All of sudden, behind me burst out of a loud laughter that could shake the whole house.  With a big smile, I hurriedly rejoined the crowd.


"Special thanks to our beloved families and dear friends who have made our life journey memorable.  In spite of the cold in the outside world, it is they who have kept us so warm inside!"


Season's Greetings and Warmest Regards from Freelance on December 30, 2010 

Atlantis

When I was a kid, I was so fascinated at the story of the lost island of Atlantis created by Plato.  Even after I have grown up, I from time to time fantasized about this Utopian city at any opportunity when the name was brought up.  A few years ago, I heard that there is actually a "real" Atlantis in one of the Caribbean islands and have since made up mind to live my fantasy one day.  Finally in the 2nd week of this November, we boarded the plane to my dreamland in Nassau, Bahamas. 

During two and half hour flight, I refreshed myself with the information about Atlantis I searched on the Internet.  After the acquisition of its bankrupt predecessor at a price tag of $125 million in 1994 by Sol Kerzner, a South African-born accountant-turned-entrepreneur, over $800 million was poured in to parlay Sol's vision of a fairytale vacation resort into a wondrous reality.  Within a few years,  the mythical city of Atlantis was created from the seabed to the skies with the completion of  the 1,200-room Royal Tower, a major architectural achievement of arches, domes and spires;  the Caribbean's largest casino in the Royal Tower containing millions of dollars in arts decoration; the world’s largest open-air marine habitat home to 50,000 sea creatures; new lagoons and countless waterfalls; a spectacular Mayan Temple Waterslide complex; 6 swimming areas etc.  In 2007, additional $1 billion investment saw the expansion of the warterscape to include a dolphin habitat, more pools and extension of river rides; the rise of the luxurious 600-room resort within the resort, The Cove Atlantis; a 497-key condo-hotel, The Reef Atlantis; creation of the largest conference facilities in the Caribbean with over 500,000 indoor and outdoor space; the 30,000 square-foot flagship Mandara Spa etc.  In over a decade, the myth and legend of a lost city of Atlantis have been brought to life with the owner's vision, chief architect's aesthetic and ingenious design and humongous sum of capital. 

The plane eventually landed in Nassau, Bahamas.  My little guy could not wait to jump out of the plane.  Atlantis is located at Paradise Island, which is 45 minutes drive from Nassau International Airport.  As the bus was getting closer and closer to the island, the soaring Royal Tower seen so many times in the picture was looming larger and larger in front of us.  Atlantis, we were here now.

The temperature was not as hot as we expected, lingering around 27 and 28 degree Celsius but good enough for us to enjoy all water activities.  Unfortunately the pristine two-mile white sand beach was closed to tourists due to strong wind.  My boy was so disappointed that he could not continue his collection of shells which he started from the cruise to Eastern Caribbean last December.  But his spirits were soon elated when he saw the pools, current rides and water slides.  He grabbed a tube and jumped inside quickly.  By the time I climbed in clumsily, we were already drifting to the first rapid current.  With a horrifying scream followed by crazy laughter, we passed our first current. 

At the Mayan Temple, we were waiting among the snaking lines of dripping tourists for our turn for the Serpent Slide that goes zigzag down through the Temple into an acrylic tube that slices through a shark-infested tank.  Every time we slid down, my boy would point at the swimming sharks excitedly.  We stood at the bottom to watch those who took their Leap of Faith, an almost vertical 60-foot long slide.  Even though a friend said that the experience was not scary as it seemed because you did not even have the time to feel scared during the free fall before you reached the bottom, I did not venture into this for fear of my feeble heart.

We even went on a snorkeling adventure aboard a 45-foot catamaran which took us to the wide open crystalline Caribbean waters off the coast.  While I was still figuring out how to wear the mask, my boy was already 20 metres away in the open sea, making acclamation at the sight of the colorful fishes and coral reefs under the water until he gobbled in several bitter and salty water.  Though he refused to go into sea water again citing he was still too small, by the lure of seeing the sharks down below, he got into the water once more while holding on the rope as required by the friendly crew under such circumstances.

When we strolled along the paths at Atlantis, we were being constantly reminded of the creative design of the Aquarium with the surprising appearance of the sea habitat below, beside and above.  My most favorite place was the Dig where we were able to embark on a journey through the streets and tunnels of the lost city of Atlantis while viewing the relics of the civilization as well as the stunning and beautiful marine life circling around the ruins, reminiscent of the foregone glory.  Throughout the whole journey, we were in the unchanging mood of awe and amazement.  My boy was never that patient and stagnant, exploring each exhibit so diligently and carefully and gasping at the size, shape and color of creatures.  At the end of journey, we were still being cast under the mystical spell, hesitant to leave everything behind.  So the journey started all over again.

On the last day of our trip, no one seemed to want to depart.  But every dream comes to an end with the inevitable return to reality.  As the famous arch gradually disappeared out of our sight, I suddenly remembered my mentor's words: Dream Big.  Even if you realize a small part of it, you could still achieve more than most of other people.  Everyone has his own "Atlantis" in his heart and mind.  If this grandiose Atlantis could be brought to existence from its humble start, what else can not be made possible?

The Cove Atlantis

The Rapid Current

Eel at the Dig

Lagoon Bar & Grill

Leap of Faith

Out to Snorkeling and Scuba Diving

Reef Shark in the Open Sea

Relics at the Dig

The River Pool

The Royal Tower

The Royal Tower Dome

The Royal Walk

Stingray at the Dig

Shining Fish

The Dig from the Above

Glass Coral

Thanks for Giving

Three weeks ago my boy proudly showed me all his work done in the month of October at school.  While I was reading each page of his masterpiece and listening to his explanation, I caught up his write-up for Thanksgiving. 

"I am thankful for my family because I like to play with them. I am thankful for my mom because she cares for me and saves money for me in the bank. I am thankful for my food so I can get healthier and so I can grow.  I am thankful for the sun so when I get cold, I go in the sun and warm up."

Unable to hold my laughter, I grabbed him into my arms and gave him a big kiss on his rosy cheek. "Good job! Mommy is so proud of you. Remember, always be thankful."

As my boy bounced away merrily to play with his toys, I sat down beside the table and opened up the pictures Shirley took for him at the first tee at the Lakeside golf course at Deerhurst resort during the Thanksgiving long weekend in October.  Everything that had happened one month before all came back to me. 

Long before I knew Shirley personally, her name had been circulated to me by our mutual friends so many times.  An energetic, forthcoming and warm-hearted lady, she used to work at Xinhua News Agency as a reporter before she and her husband who was her co-worker at the Agency moved to US.  After she spent a few years at Ford upon the completion of MBA study in US, her whole family migrated up north and settled down in Canada. With her welcoming personality, hospitality, and love for travel and fun stuff, she has gradually made herself known as unofficial CEO (chief event organizer) and CFO (chief fun originator) among her circle of friends.  Though there is a big age gap between our kids which has made it hard for us to join their play or party group some time, I finally got a chance to join her and her family and a few other friends at Deerhurst Resort in October.

Deerhurst Resort is located in Muskoka region, a popular tourist destination within 2-3 hour drive north of Toronto in Ontario.  Boasting of some 1,600 lakes, it spans 2,500 square miles (6,475 km²) from Georgian Bay to Algonquin Provincial Park.  Referred to as "cottage county", the area is sprinkled with picturesque villages and towns, farming communities, and lakeside vacation hotels and resorts close to golf courses, country clubs, and marinas.  In recent years, various Hollywood and sports stars have built million-dollar retreats in Muskoka, including Steven Spielberg, Tom Hanks, Mike Weir, Martin Short, Cindy Crawford, Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell.  Among all the famed public resorts in Muskoka, Deerhurst is probably one of the best, recently known to the world as the host for G8 in June 2010. 

Deerhurst has been a must-go place for Shirley and her family and many of their friends during the Thanksgiving long weekend in October for the past several years.  Having heard so many fun stories about them, we finally paid a visit there with a group of family friends last Christmas and had such a great time with ski and snow-tubing.  But  the trip would never be perfect without seeing the colors at Deerhurst in fall.  Therefore with a fall promotion, I booked the trip again this October.

Two days before the trip, Shirley sent out a local scenery route and several must-stop points.  While driving along the local route with so many lakes and nice views instead of the boring cars on the regular highway, I felt so thankful for Shirley's clever advice. When we had a brief rest at Kawartha Dairy, a family owned dairy company with over 70 year history, to taste their so creamy ice cream, I was so appreciative for Shirley's wise suggestion.

We arrived almost at the same time though Shirley and her family tried a new route this time.  Without a rest, she hurriedly showed us the direct way to the back of the resort where we could enjoy the most beautiful scenes.  It is truly breath-taking, totally different from last time when it was all covered with white snow.  And I would have asked several people around in order to get to the right places if not for Shirley.

The time at the resort went by quickly with the swimming, canoe, tennis, basketball and golf.  On the eve of Thanksgiving, we gathered at Eclipse restaurant at the resort, ready to have our feast.  To our great disappointment, the dinner was not that fantastic as we originally thought.

"Double the price of the Sunday brunch and so much less selection." Shirley complained.  "I feel so sorry to ask you in."

"Never mind. As long as we have fun, it does not matter." I comforted her.

"It is my fault.  I never tried this buffet even though I have been here so many times..."  Shirley continued.

That morning my boy and I had the brunch highly recommended by Shirley.  The food tastes amazing and selections are exceptional.  But I really did not mind paying so much more in the evening for mediocre food because Shirley had got us in this dinner. 

Days after we came back from our trip to Deerhurst, I surprisingly received an email from Shirley.

"The Resort has agreed to give you all 25% discount on the Thanksgiving dinner buffet in consideration of our complaint and in appreciation of us as their valued guests. Please let us know if the discount does not go through your credit card in a few days." 

"They have earned their name for their good customer service.  But thank you so much.for a successful try. It is totally unexpected and so surprising." I relied in a minute. 

"I feel so guilty to get you in.  If I did not do something about it, I could not sleep well at night." came back Shirley's response right away.

As I looked at my boy holding the iron with the picturesque scene in his background in the photos, I raised my voice.

"Do you still remember the auntie who took your picture at the golf course at Deerhurst?"

"Of course.  She also said nice things to me when she knew I finished 18-hole all by myself." came my boy's reply from the other side of the room.

"Did you say thank you?"

" Yes, I did.  But mommy, could you please come to play chess with me now?"

With a mix of smile and sigh, I turned off my laptop and joined him instantly.  When we surround ourselves with friends who like to give, we surely learn to be thankful and to give too.  And when our friends are the mirrors for us, we are definitely the first to set such role model for our little ones.

On the Green

    
 

Practice Swing at the 1st Tee (by Shirley in 2010 Fall)

The 18th Hole

The Beauty of Deerhurst (by Shirley in 2009 Fall)

Lest We Forget

A friend sent me a video last November.  It was Amazing Grace sung by Il Divo at the Roman Colosseum in Pula, Croatia.  I fell in love with it right away.  After I forwarded it to my other friends, they all came back with the same feedback: deeply touched and awed.  Again it is approaching this special day for 2010.   As usual, I turned on my favourite.  With the music slowly starting, Lest We Forget, the words noted in my friend's email, naturally resurfaced.

Toward the end of October and up to November 11 every year, small red poppy flowers begin to blossom on the collars or lapels of millions of Canadians, marking the beginning of a journey back into the past and reflection of the present.  Ironically, while opium which is extracted from poppy flower is widely regarded as illegal drugs, the flower itself is worn to commemorate those who died in War in Canada, US, UK, Australia, New Zealand and other Commonwealth countries.

"How could that be?" I asked myself and did a quick search on the Internet. "Wow, it did have a long and heart broken history." 

The international adoption of the Poppy as a symbol of Remembrance in Canada and the Commonwealth nations could be traced back to Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae, a Canadian Medical Officer during the World War I.   Upon witnessing the death of fellow soldiers and especially a good friend in the battles near Ypres, Belgium, the area traditionally called Flanders, he wrote a famous poem "In Flanders Fields" to express his anguish over the loss of his friend and a reflection of his surroundings – wild Poppies growing amid simple wooden crosses marking makeshift graves.  Little did he know then that these 15 lines would become enshrined in the innermost thoughts and hearts of all soldiers who hear them. Through his words, the scarlet Poppy quickly became the symbol for soldiers who died in battle.

The beautiful bagpipe resounded throughout the whole house as I browsed through the poppy flower origin.  Over the next few days this Scottish instrument will be heard so many times in public with a brief rest at 11:00 a.m. this Thursday.  At that moment, people across Canada and British Commonwealth will observe 2 minutes of silence, a reminiscence of the end of World War I at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918 with the German signing of the Armistice.  The official ceremonies will be held across all continents on this day as called Remembrance Day in Canada and Commonwealth countries and Veterans Day in US.

Holding a cup of hot coffee, I looked through the French door onto the vast ravine covered with a thin layer of whitish frost.  Suddenly I recalled my visit to several war memorials in the past like Huaihai Campaign Martyr’s Memorial Tower Garden in Xuzhou, China, The Australian War Memorial in Canberra, Australia, National War Memorial in Ottawa, Canada, and Arlington National Cemetery in Washington D.C. in US.  Every time I stood still and speechless within the massive emptiness, feeling nothing but deep sorrow, haunting silence, and deadly beauty. 

The quartet's magnetic voice flowed into my ear again.  Thoughtfully I settled myself comfortably into a couch while sipping the coffee.  We will never have a future if we don't remember the past.  And we can never live up to a future if we don't know how to appreciate the peace and joy of life now.  

"To all who scacrificed their lives for what we have always taken for granted." I raised my half empty cup in the air, "Lest We Forget!"

Amazing Grace
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GYMLMj-SibU

In Flanders Fields

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BsOsdGtBBTg

In Flanders Fields by John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Size Doesn't Matter

Soon after I returned to work from maternity leave a few years ago, I came to realize that I had been out of touch with the fashion world by being absent from the shopping malls for over two years. When a young co-worker mentioned about Lululemon, I bluntly asked her whether it was kind of fruit. She instantly burst into laughter. By the time I got to know what Lululemon is, all of sudden I began to spot Lululemon everywhere.

Every industry must go through 4 life cycles: introduction, growth, maturity and decline. Unlike anything related to fancy Web 2.0, high tech or green energy, retail business in general is considered as a mature industry in the West. Similar to middle-aged man busy dealing with mid-life crisis, all retail behemoths have been struggling to find ways to generate new streams of revenue or boost the sales per square foot. For instance, McDonald has revamped menu items to offer healthy choices and launched McCafe to compete with Starbucks. Walmart has expanded their food shelves to diversify their consumer product offerings. Nike has continued to sign up endorsement agreement in huge sums with superstars to promote their brand. Among all the buzz, Lululemon has quietly ascended into stardom from obscurity within 10 years in this seemingly boring industry.

Based in Vancouver, British Columbia, Lululemon originally started out with a single design studio and retail store in 1998. Self-described as a yoga-inspired athletic apparel company, Lululemon has designed and marketed top quality sportswear to fit so beautifully a woman’s body with its ingenious design, lively color, perfect symmetry and comfortable materials. Dennis "Chip" Wilson, the founder, also created the famous manifesto with multiple healthy and inspirational messages which have become company’s culture adored and followed by millions of fans.  Since its IPO on Toronto Stock Exchange and NASDAQ in July 2007, Lululemon has enjoyed phenomenal expansion in business with average growth of approximately 70% in revenue and over 200% in net income over three years. With few TV advertisements and endorsement contracts, Lululemon has opened approximately 130 retail stores in US, Canada and Australia as of 2010 by setting up showroom to test the local market first. Compared to around 700 self-operated retail stores and 50,000 retail accounts worldwide for Nike, Lululemon is still a dwarf. However, it has claimed market cap of over $3B with an enviable P/E ratio in the range of 35 to 45, well above the average of 15-25 for industry giants like Nike and Adidas in the West and Anta and Peak in China where retail business is still at the burgeoning stage.  When beauty and creativity prevail, size no longer matters.

I still remember my first visit to a Lululemon store shortly after my earlier embarrassment. The moment I laid my eyes at their clothes, I felt the urge to throw my Nike and Adidas outfit out of my wardrobe. Ever since then, Lululemon has become one of my beloved stops at the shopping centres. Even without buying anything in the stores, the sheer pleasure of looking at the shining colors, touch of the soft fabric and feel of the vibrant energy among customers is immeasurable. Whenever I get the chance to read its manifesto on its products, website or shopping tote, I can always find something new and inspirational into life. To me and many other people, Lululemon symbolizes not only beauty and fashion but also life style and philosophy. 

Being one of my favourite companies, I always like to follow Lululemon’s performance.  When its Q2 earning was released recently, it was not surprising to see the momentum continued to build on with the growth of 62% in revenue and 176% in operating income over the first two quarters compared to the same period last year.

“Great!”  I thought to myself. The stock price jumped 3% at the news with P/E reaching 40 whereas other much bigger brothers still remained at dismal 15 or 20. “You are the winner regardless your size.” I grabbed my Lululemon gym bag.  Well, when it comes to body, size still matters. 

As I walked out to my car, I recalled one of its manifesto:  Lululemon creates components for people to live longer, healthier and more fun lives.  “That is absolutely right!”  I stepped onto the gas pedal.

When I looked into the mirror at myself in Lululemon outfit in the gym, another manifesto resonated in my head: Your outlook on life is a direct reflection of how much you like yourself.  “For sure, let me just start by loving my body first!”  I pushed the start button on the elliptical.

Lululemon Manifesto

                                                                Breathe Deeply

Stretch Out

The Age of Innocence

Two weeks ago, we went to Brooks Farm with a group of families.  The kids had such a great time and fun so we decided to go back there again this Sunday with a few friends.

Apart from banks, gold, potash, oil & gas, forestry, and lakes, Canada is rich with farms and ranches.  In Ontario alone, there are close to 60,000 farms with types in field crops, vegetables and fruits, dairy or beef cattle, horse, poultry or combination of several etc.  Smaller farms could generate from $25,000 to $250,000 in annual revenue while the larger ones could top up $1 million mark.  In summer and fall time, a lot of the farms are open to the public whereby kids and adults could experience the life at farms by picking up fruits, feeding the livestock, and participating in other farm activities etc.  We have been to several of these farms before.  Brooks Farm is by far the biggest and has the most fun activities with straw jump, corn maze, pumpkin cannon, tractor train ride, fruits picking, pig race etc. 

While driving along Highway 404, I caught my son's giggles at the backseat from time to time.  Lately he has been hooked up with Tom and Jerry.  Even with 30-40 minutes drive, he still insisted on bringing along the dvd disks to watch in the car.   "What are the worry-free years for the kids!"  I thought to myself.   Time waits for nobody.  It seems that those years belonged to us just a while ago.   Without notice, we have inevitably stepped into a life stage as "sandwich" with our parents and our boss on the top, our kids and staff at the bottom and us in-between in family and at work respectively.  After handling endless emails, meetings, projects, pressure from the boss and unsatisfactory performance by the staff during the day, we have to deal with our kids' academics, after-school programs, health problem and behavioural issues in the evening.  While everything seems in order, our aged parents are suddenly calling sick.  Everyday we are fighting like soldiers at all fronts.  Long gone are the days of simplicity.

The kids were running around the farm, playing their favourites one by one. Straw jump, a small "mountain" with tunnels in-between simply made of layers of hay piles, amazingly attracted kids to spend the most time where they played  tags up and down the "mountain" and in and out of the tunnels. With pieces of straws all over their clothes and hair, nobody seemed to care.  Then they ran off to the Corn Maze with a wide-open mouthed pumpkin at the entrance.  They exclaimed in awe when they found a large real pumpkin field at the end of the maze.  They continued their fun with the corns by shooting them high into the sky at Corn Blast.  At Zip Line, everyone of them seemed to become an explorer in the jungle zooming down the line with their tiny hands holding tightly onto the bar.  From time to time, they passed by the goat pen, teasing the good-tempered goats and sheep with grass and feeding stock.  Seemingly they were now grabbing the rare opportunity to be the ones in charge.  After hours of play at different spots, they returned to Straw Jump with the same zest.

"I wish I could have that energy".  I sighed to my friends.   
"I could not believe that they could make so much fun out of this simple thing."  gasped one friend.
"What an age of innocence!" another friend concluded.

I lay down on the bench made of hay.  The sun cast lazy shadow of the Straw Jump onto the ground, reminiscent of a laid-back young man relaxing in a Laz-boy recliner.  I suddenly recalled the words from a friend:  "Keep some time and space to ourselves amid this busy world! We do deserve a break once in a while!"

When a breeze brushed gently over my hair, I closed my eyes.  Forget about the meetings, projects, house chores, and even our children. The world will not end if we let go our responsibilities for a minute.  The Age of Innocence, let me just savor the taste of you once again!

                                         

Are We Different?

I Believe

There are two major national English TV channels dedicated to children in Canada: Treehouse TV for pre-schoolers and YTV for the bigger kids, both of which are owned by the same company called Corus Entertainment.   Corus also co-owns with Astra Media Teletoon, a TV network exclusively airing animation programming in both English and French in Canada.

For the past 6 years, Treehouse had been part of our life.  I used to seeing my boy jumping around with the Wiggles, singing and dancing with the Backyardigans, busy making stuff with Mr. Maker etc.   Out of the blue, he switched totally to YTV when he was about to turn to 6 earlier this year.  I could not help but feeling amazed at how those TV specialists are able to target their programming at the right audience.  At one casual weekend in August, 2010, he by accident caught a glimpse of the replay of the Next Star, a singing talent show for teenagers and has since glued to the show each week.  When I got to know that the Finale will be staged and broadcast at Wonderland, the largest amusement park in Canada on the last Sunday of September, I bought the tickets right away.


Wonderland is only 30 minutes drive from our home.  We have not been to Wonderland for 2 years.  After I ventured all the rides at Universal Studio in Orlando 5 years ago, I came to the final conclusion that a woman of my age shall be best fit staying onshore.  Fortunately my boy was so scared to get even close to those rides designed for small kids during our first 2 trips to Wonderland that I didn't have to worry about my heartbeat and blood pressure in the past. 


"Now things may be different."  As I thought to myself, we arrived at Wonderland.  Accompanied by my good friend's son, my little guy improved a lot this time and tried almost everything appropriate for his age.  However, the bad news was that for a few of them, an adult had to be with him because of his height restriction which left me no other choice.   When I was still dizzy and felt like throwing up, our time was up.  By the time we hurried there, the International Showplace was already fully packed with screaming teenagers holding up their banners in support of their favorite stars. 


The Next Star reality show was launched in Canada in 2008 and instantly became a sensation. After auditions among over 4,000 kids under the age of 16 across Canada and numerous performances on the stage among 16 finalists, Top 6 are chosen from them to go through additional tasks from meeting the press, creating their own looks and pairing to perform duet to giving back to the local charities, attending to superstar duties and unveiling their singles.  So it is a show for Top 6 to present not only their singing techniques but also communication skills, teamwork, creativity, and social responsibility. During the whole process, kids and/or adults across Canada cast their votes online or through text message to choose the Next Star.  The kid with the most votes will be declared as the Next Star at the Finale broadcast live across Canada. 


My son's favorite was Diego, a cutie from Toronto and mine was Mimoza, an Asia girl from Winnipeg.  The show started in no time after four of us settled in.  The whole place was soon heated up with waving hands, applause, jumping and screaming.  My boy was no exception.  He asked for a piece of paper from me and was writing on it carefully under the dim light.  I looked closely and laughed.  "Diego, You Rock!" 


Holding the paper high above with his both hands, my boy was screaming and jumping like the rest of the crowd.  "Is he really 6?" I had to ask myself.  After Diego's performance with My Best Friends Girl, my little boy was shouting into my ear: "I believe Diego's going to win."  


"I believe!"  Suddenly I recalled Nikky Yanofsky, 16-year-old girl from Montreal whom Top 6 also met during the reality show and her theme song "I Believe" for 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics.  When she was still a little kid, she believed that one day she was going to be a international star like Celine Dion.  She has believed and  each day her belief has become one step closer to reality.  


All these 6 kids have wished and believed.  No matter who will be the Next Star, what they have believed have become real tonight, showing their talent and performing their best in front of so many Canadians live on this stage. 


Diego's belief finally became true and so did my boy's. But there were no losers on the stage.  So go ahead to say I BELIEVE and uphold this belief because this is the starting point for you to become the Next Star in your chosen path. 




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pP9IQuz-jlk&feature=related


I Believe, performed by Nikki Yanofsky (Age:16)




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dxJCFJPrzXU&feature=related


Meet Me Halfway, Duet Performed by Diego (Age:14) and Mimoza (Age:13)

Marathon of Hope

As my little boy's school is going to hold its annual Terry Fox Run on the last day of September 2010, he fetched a book about Terry Fox from the library a while ago.  He used to join the run or more appropriately walk for three years in a row when he was still at Children's House.  Now he seems to understand to dig more after he turns to Grade 1 this year.

I have been reading the book with the little guy for the past week.  I have to admit that, even though I had heard his name so many times before, I had never cared to know about the story of Terry Fox until now .  After we finished the story yesterday, I was totally shocked and deeply touched. 


Terry was born in an ordinary family in Manitoba, Canada.in 1958.  Like any other boy of his age, he was an enthusiastic athlete, playing soccer, rugby and basketball from childhood.  When he was still dreaming to become physical education teacher upon graduation from the university, he was diagnosed with  osteosarcoma, a kind of bone cancer in 1977.  After his right leg was amputated, he went through chemotherapy for 16 months.  During this period, he experienced the unbearable pain himself and witnessed how other fellow cancer patients suffered and died.  From then on, he had found a new mission in his life: To raise the awareness of cancer research among ordinary people and seek their support to fund cancer research to provide cure for cancer patients by running across Canada.  After rigorous training to get to use to run with his artificial right leg, he began the Marathon of Hope in April 1980 from the east coast of Canada.  His endeavour inspired so many people across Canada and worldwide.  After running 5,373 kilometres for 143 days, his journey ended abruptly in the mid-point with the unfortunate return of cancer to his lung.  Terry Fox died in 1981, just one month before his 23th birthday.  His grand dream to run across Canada did not materialize.  Nevertheless, his legacy has remained.  By the time of his death, he raised close to $23 million.  In the same year, Terry Fox Foundation was established and headed by Darrell Fox, his younger brother  who had accompanied him throughout the whole journey.  Also in the same year, the annual Terry Fox Run was first held.  Over the past decades, this event has grown to involve millions of participants in 60 countries and is now the world's largest one-day fundraiser for cancer research. To date, more than CAD500 million have been raised in his name to the Foundation. 


My little boy asked many questions during this week-long reading.  In response to one of his questions about cancer, I told him the story of my mentor's wife whom he always addresses as auntie.  She had tumor in her foot a couple of years ago.  With her usual optimistic attitude, it was cured.  Last year, however, two new tumors were spotted in her lung and breast.  She underwent two surgeries within one day at St. Margaret's Hospital in Toronto followed by a series of chemotherapy and radiation therapy.  Every time I see her after she finished all her therapy, she still talks so merrily and looks healthier than I am.  Initially I felt so sorry for her.  Afterwards I have found it unnecessary.  Why?  Because she does not need sympathy.  She has the same firing spirit as Terry Fox and therefore they are the survivor in their own respective way.


When I picked up my little guy at school this afternoon, he eagerly showed me his pledge for Terry Fox Run the next day on a small paper leaf pinned to the wall in the classroom along with other leaves that have formed a tree.  On the paper leaf, he wrote: 23 laps to save auntie.  I smiled.  When a generation has been educated to believe in compassion and voluntary giving since childhood through a young Canadian named Terry Fox, the Marathon of Hope continues on.

A Heart's Desire

Eleven years ago, I crossed the Pacific ocean to land on this foreign soil called Canada without knowing much about the future ahead. Over the years, I have gone through so many ups and downs in life, laughing my heads off and crying my heart out. In the end, I have come to realize one single truth: Life is what you choose to be. You could make it a HELL or a HEAVEN depending on your heart’s desire.

As I have decided to part, I feel more and more attached to this beautiful country which I have regarded as my 2nd home.  In order to maintain a record of our life as the first generation immigrants from China, I am starting this series of essays.  Wherever we rest our feet, we have to always bear in mind that the way of life we choose to live is solely the choice of our own heart and mind.