Happy to Be

For World Happiness Day (and the first day of spring!)  let me share my own way to celebrate. A morning walk in the woods with my favourite canine, followed by a pot of green tea and a few hours of  uninterrupted time on my laptop. 

After lunch, I’ll head out to my neighbourhood pool for a swim, stop for groceries and prep a vegetable-rich supper. I hope to spend the evening reading a soon-due-back library book, will have a few welcome social interactions, and end the day with another dog walk. Those morning and evening dog walks are comforting bookends to my idea of a perfect, happy day. 

As a retired homeowner, I'm one of the lucky ones with a pension which guarantees me a modest life-long income along with private health insurance to supplement the government plan. It's much more than what many newcomers, people with disability or mental health issues, or young people trying to find affordable apartments can even hope for. 

While I live in my protected senior bubble, I know that unhappiness is real and that people in my city are struggling and have much to be unhappy about. Canada's dropped to 18th on the World Happiness Report and we need to elect politicians who will support our quest for individual and social happiness.

I've had my share of challenging times and appreciate simple things like tea and dog walks.  I’m sure your idea of how to live a happy day is much different than mine ... may we each find happiness and pass it forward. 

From Wesselburen to Winnipeg

 

Dad at 18 in 1936

It’s my father’s birthday. Born in Wesselburen, near the North Sea in Schleswig-Holstein back in 1918, he’d be 107 today. He passed away at 75 back in 1993. While he got to witness the collapse of the Berlin Wall, he missed out on most of my kids’ childhoods. And they, missed out on having a fun-loving Opa in their lives.  

I think my dad appreciated fun because of the not-much-fun years. He joined the German Luftwaffe at 18, back in 1936. The small-town boy had witnessed his bedridden father die (possibly from a morphine overdose?) after lingering Great War wounds, the previous year. 

Young Robert was no doubt eager to leave the poverty and depression at home for the excitement and status of being a pilot in Hermann Göring’s Luftwaffe.  I know one perk was that he got to watch the diving competition during the Berlin Olympics back in 1936.  He ended up crashing a plane he was piloting, killing all 17 paratroopers on board.  After a lengthy recovery he was re-instated into the Military Police on the eastern front. That ended with five years in Soviet custody near Moscow and the collapse of his first marriage along with the death of his two sons.

Eighteen years later, I became the firstborn of his new family here in Winnipeg. 

Happy 107, Dad. It would be great to share a coffee and some Königskuchen with you today! I've got so many questions I'd like to ask you. I'm finally ready to listen to the stories about the old days. I think our world needs to remember those days ... now, more than ever!

My oldest daughter with her opa 
1987

Standing up to Bullies

Diversity mural at Bernie Wolfe School in Winnipeg

Last Wednesday was labelled ‘pink day’ supporting awareness about bullying. and I was delighted to share that theme as presented in Waltraut with local grade eight students. I suggested that a good way to not get pushed around by bullies is to have a strong sense of one’s self. When you know your own story, you aren’t persuaded to adopt someone else’s narrative. My protagonist, Waltraut, had an identity crisis and others took advantage of her vulnerability.

As Canada gets pushed around by the USA, we find ourselves re-connecting with what it means to be Canadian. In my novel, Waltraut discovers her power comes not from imitating Nancy Drew, but from owning who she is, Waltraut Weiss.

Waltraut’s parents were very proud of becoming Canadian. It was a country they chose to raise their children. It is a country that does not aspire to be more like the Americans. It is a country that aspires to be what its steady stream of new immigrants dream it can be … more Canadian.

Check out 49th Shelf’s recent newsletter for other children’s books encouraging newcomer’s self-esteem and empowerment. Grateful to have Walraut included on that list. Books can be portals to build resistance to bullies.

Mural supporting Ukrainian
Immersion program at Bernie Wolfe School 

 

Zhytomyr in the News

Recent headlines about rare minerals in Ukraine, remind me of the day trip we took while visiting Ukraine twenty years ago when I got to view a titanium mine near Zhytomyr. 

Titanium mine near Zhytomyr

Whenever I hear or see Zhytomyr in the news, I pay attention. That’s where my grandfather was arrested, interrogated and executed back in 1937. When I stayed there in 2004 it was a sleepy, maybe even depressed, town still boasting its Lenin statue. I was more interested in the secret police archives than in Zhytomyr’s mines. 

Now, Zhytomyr might become a hub for American mining companies—or not!  That will definitely bring changes to the area. I hope they’re good ones. This area, once known as Volhynia, has been through decades of dark times … expertly discussed in Timothy Synder’s Bloodlands. (Link to YouTube lecture he gave).  From collectivization to famine to Nazi terror to extreme poverty and neglect … maybe titanium will bring prosperity. But so far, Zhytomyr in 2025, has only more turmoil. 

With Lenin in 2004 town square of Zhytomyr

Zhytomyr ditch where my grandfather's body
was thrown after his 1937 execution

Ukraine Deserves Better

I've been a supporter of the Samaritan Ministries of Ukraine (SMU) for more than twenty years now. My minimal contributions have gone towards creating widow homes for the destitute women in the rural Zhytomyr region of Ukraine ... an area where my family once lived. While SMU's founder, Don Miller from Oregon, has sadly passed on, his widow, Nancy, recently posted a request of fellow Americans to stop Trump's skewed efforts at peacemaking. Ukraine deserves better!

Just in case I have American readers of this blog .... here is Nancy Miller's (of SMU) plea:

Please call on the Trump Administration and congressional leaders to do right by Ukraine. Use your voice to make a difference for Ukraine:

Calling tool (https://americancoalitionforukraine.org/) - Call EVERY DAY!

Email Congress campaign (https://www.votervoice.net/RAZOM.../Campaigns/121991/Respond) - Use once. 

Email Congress campaign (https://ujoin.co/campaigns/3568/actions/public...) 

These links will ask for a donation. We are NOT suggesting you donate to them. 

Thank you!

The Chaos of San Pancho

My time is quickly winding down here in laid back, tropical San Pancho. As I sit on my apartment terrace, sipping green tea and pondering the day ahead, I view the busy street one floor below.

Pineapple and watermelon vendors cruise the streets blaring ads for their produce. A garbage truck passes, its dirty rear end somehow less smelly as a yearning crooner serenades its workers through the drudgery of their day. Dogs meander around scooters, ATVs, golf carts, BMWs, tourists and locals. Some canines even hitch rides. 

Free-range kids play tag, free-range roosters crow, and giant, rooted cacti bloom amidst the dust and exhaust fumes. It’s an incredible cacophony of sound, of motion, of smells. 

Every few doors there’s a different beat, another song, another voice adding cadence to the mayhem of the street. Fruit stands, butcher shops, cafes, tequila and chocolate shops co-exist with pharmacies, yoga studios and meditation centres. 

Friendly nods, accompanied by ‘hola’ or ‘buenos dia’ spice up navigation along the cobbled roads. Pfew! It’s a lot for this prairie dweller to absorb. But soon I’ll return to Winnipeg where it’s -26 not +26 and I can chill back into my comfort zone. 

Room to Create

As I prepare a presentation for young readers and writers, I’m taking stock of my 'office'. Here’s a rough sketch. I like to refer my writing space with Virginia Woolf’s words, ‘a room of one’s own.’  It’s my happy place where I’m surrounded by books, maps, plants, rocks and photos. The room has plenty of natural light with a French door leading out to a garden. During the long winter, the garden turns white like a blank screen or an empty page. But in the summer, it turns green with growth.  

sleeping garden featuring my pride and joy 
... a linden tree

Inside my room, the bulletin board hosts a scramble of notes … some might call it clutter … I call it my compost pile.  Those bits and pieces are the raw materials for growing stories.  Obits,  postcards, lines of poetry, stickers, reminders, quotes, writing rules that I want to follow, etc. …  

indoor compost board

On my shelves, I have one wall devoted to history for my German side and on the other wall, the focus is on Soviet era research ... reflecting the two huge influences on my family's history and my stories.

I also have a shelf devoted to writing craft books that guide and support me on this lifelong journey.

In between the two walls, I have shelves filled with the wonderful books by writer friends. There's never enough room because my friends have had incredible success and because my friendship circle grows bigger all the time. Good thing I have other rooms with more shelves!

books as portals to other times and places

Scattered amongst the books, like garden art,  I have stones, photos, candles and random artifacts that feed my imagination.  And ... in a small corner ... I have my own little stack of published novels. Pinch me!  

Cicero said, "If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need."  I totally agree!