Who Gives a SHIT Anymore?

I admit that, as a kid I was mad about hockey. In fact, I don't remember learning to skate. Near our home was a small lake called Lily Lake. During the winter months there was a large public skating rink in front of the old wooden change house. On weekends, as hundreds of skaters whirled around the ice, a live brass band played with gusto on the outside veranda. I always wondered why the musicians did not freeze their lips to their instruments. The rest of the lake was made up of a dozen small hockey pads. I played on these little board-less rinks that sported some one's winter boots for goal posts. Every day after school and on week-ends, I played pick-up hockey.  My first real organized hockey was in high school.

Charlie Gorman 1927

I had no idea what to expect when a number of hopefuls gathered for the first 'try-out' for the Saint Vincent's high school hockey team. We assembled at centre ice in the Saint John Forum, an old dilapidated, drafty and unheated sheet metal building in the North end of the city. Nevertheless, to me  this was 'the' hockey dome and home of the Saint John Beavers! A few years later in 1946, the Beavers were to become the Maritime Senior Hockey Champions. When they won that honour thousands of people gathered on King Street East to welcome them home. A local paper wrote, "Not since 1927, when the late Charlie Gorman (my cousin) brought home the world's speed skating championship to this city, has Saint John witnessed such a demonstration." So here I was, fresh off the local pond and standing at centre ice in this 'magnificent shrine to hockey' hoping to win a spot on a local high school hockey team. 

I had no idea what position I should try out for. When the coach called for right wingers to go to one side of the rink, I remained at centre ice. Then he called for the left wingers to go to the other side of the rink. I was left standing in the middle with three other players and realized my chances of making the team had greatly improved. For the rest of my hockey career (!) I always played the centre position.

My mother encouraged and supported me in my desire to be a hockey player. She would tell me, "Hockey is a skating game. If you want to play good hockey work hard at your skating." However, with a large family to look after, my parents never made it to a single game in the Forum! They were never there so see just how good I was... at least in my own mind! I understood the reasons, but I felt that absence for many years. It is difficult to admit, but emotional support and encouragement is a life long need, especially when you are young.

Remember the quote from John Donne, "No man is an island alone unto itself."  I have learned asking for help is not a sign of personal weakness nor is it some kind of dependent personality disorder. Everyone, whether they know it or not, needs recognition and support. I know I thrive on the support of others, especially Maureen's ever present assistance. Like nothing else, it helps when we are grinding through disappointments or facing scary health issues. Indeed, emotional support is a life long need.

I'm 85, what the hell do I care!!

Perhaps I am more sensitive to this need as I grow old. But it does seem to me that many in our world are simply losing respect for human life! There is still some altruism left no doubt, but it might, like the environment, be on its way to extinction! I see so many, even those in positions of authority, who basically just don't give a SHIT about others! Are human beings becoming yet another disposable 'thing' in our throw-away society? Or so it seems to this octogenarian as I try to digests the daily news.

Am I becoming a cynic, a negative grumpy old man, a curmudgeon of sorts? Sometimes I think so, but most of the time I truly work hard to see the good side of everyone. A long time ago someone once wrote,"When you choose to see the good in others, you end up finding the good in yourself."

And that's Dicks View of the World this Week.

 HAPPY CANADA DAY!