Guest Post - Dad's 60th Birthday!

Dad recently celebrated his 60th birthday and we gathered with friends and family to celebrate.  My two older brothers Scott and Derek and myself gave speeches as part of the festivities.  Here is Scott's speech in its entirety.  I'll try to track down Derek's speech as well.  Enjoy.

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It all started approximately 11 years ago.  The big bash.  It was my Mom and Dad’s 25 year wedding anniversary.  It was a big celebration – and something well worth celebrating.  We had a great time – friends, family, food, singing, speeches, poems.  Accolades of praise for the wonderful couple, that all who attended, knew and loved.  A beautiful evening. 

A short while later the family got together for a time of reflection.  We watched the video tape of that evening.  Spirits were high.  People were excited for the evening that was, by all accounts, a rousing success.  Immediately plans for the next big celebration were under way.  What are we going to do for the 30^th wedding anniversary?  Ideas were spit-balled.  Would we be able to pull off another evening like the one we just had?  Probably.  But was it practical?  No.  People can only hear so much good about one couple, before they begin to feel nauseated.  Then my mother had the most brilliant idea of all.  Some might even say the most brilliant idea she has ever had.  We would do a trip.  We would need to hammer out the details, but it would either be a cruise, or a house-boat, or a trip down south, but something real nice.  Dad remained rather quiet about the whole thing, while the children leaped about in apparent jubilation. 

In the years that followed the dynamics of our family changed some.  Derek got married.  I got married.  We began to be fruitful; and we multiplied as we were instructed to do so in Genesis 1:28.  Next Becky got married, then Ally, then Greg.  More children were had.  But all the while, we kept that trip that we had discussed, in the front of our minds.  It was going to be awesome.  We reminded Mother of it often, but the closer we drew to the date, the more Mom was seemed to be skirting around the idea.  We would be together for Sunday lunch and someone would say, “Hey Mom, I’ve been giving our trip that you promised us a lot of thought and I think we should go down south and rent a house in Florida!”  And my Mom would say, “yeahhhhh.  That sounds like it would be a nice time…”  Oh, we were so excited. 

And then, the 30^th wedding anniversary came and went and then so did the 35^th.  Both with very little hoopla or fanfare.  Neither was ever properly celebrated as far as the immediate family was concerned.  Where was our trip?  Where was our quality time?  What happened to the promise that was made to us on that fateful day?  When confronted on this, we heard number of different excuses, such as, “well the families have gotten too big” or “we didn’t know at the time what kind of people Becky and Ally would be bringing along with them and the thought of being trapped on a boat or in the same cottage with Shawn and Jake for an extended period of time…”.  Don’t get me wrong.  These are valid excuses.  But I am still disappointed that this trip, which had been planned in my head and heart for ten years, that was going to be awesome, never happened.  And now we are here once more; celebrating a milestone in style, but in a very local setting.  It was during this setting, that all along I was planning on doing a beautiful narrated slide show all about our family outing.  Now obviously I can’t do that anymore, but I have to contribute something to celebrate the milestone that we are gathered here together to commemorate.

So I did what any other sane person in my position would have done.  I pictured in my mind, a parallel universe that exists in which the Slingerland family all went together on the vacation of a lifetime.  Now I am going to use this platform that I have available to me, to tell you all about that vacation, through the magic of Journal Entries that were completed on a daily basis during our fictional trip.  I think this coping mechanism would probably make Arlene Veenstra very proud and more importantly it would make Boot proud too. 

Day One.  We arrived in Greece right on schedule.  The flight was wonderful.  The stewardess said she had never before seen such a beautiful family and decided to bump us all up into first class.  Thank goodness Derek hadn’t boarded the plane yet or she probably would never have offered it.  Next the pilot introduced himself to our family and asked what the occasion was.  I explained to him that this was the celebration of my parents’ 30^th and 35^th Wedding Anniversary and my father’s 60^th birthday!  “Wow” he said.  “What a wonderful family.  The Vontraps got nothing on you guys!”  He then proceeded to the cockpit and over the intercom informed everybody about the milestones we were celebrating; after which the whole plane broke into singing “For he’s a jolly good fellow!”

Day Two.  Well Greece is beautiful.  Our trip to the Parthenon was magical.  Our dinner at the famed Milos Estiatorio Costal Restaurant was extremely pleasing to the pallet for most of the family.  Dad on the other hand was unable to locate hot dogs or chicken fingers anywhere on the menu and settled for a Greek Salad minus the Feta Cheese and Greek dressing.  Thankful Mom had packed a bottle of French dressing and Dad still enjoyed the view.  After such a beautiful day I hardly want to leave this beautiful country.  This is a good time for me to reflect on how nice it was that Jake and Shawn were willing to stay home and watch all of the grandkids.  I’m sure they are having a nice time too.  I am almost beginning to think that the flight ticket miscount by Mom was intentional.  You know what they say, “Oh well”.

Day Three.  I can’t believe we are actually in Rome.  Highlights included seeing the coliseum and having a personal visit from the Pope Francis - during which Greg had an opportunity to debate Luther’s 95 theses.  Pope Francis bid us farewell after he told us he certainly had a lot to think about.  Dad said that Italy had among the best cheese-less pizza he had ever tried.  After skyping Shawn and Jake back home we learned that they are dealing with a bit of a diarrhea outbreak and they are running low on diapers.  They are hoping that the blizzard that is keeping them housebound, eases up soon.  Jake is busy researching ways to make your own cloth diapers with household items.  Spirits still seem pretty high.   

Day Four.  We arrived in Spain right on schedule in my imaginary itinerary.  I found our museum trip a little boring.  The curator was droning on and on about boring and insignificant Spanish history.  Greg noted that they really had nothing when compared to our own rich Canadian history.  Things were just started to get interesting, but we got kicked out when Derek knocked over a Conquistador armour display.  It was probably for the best anyways.  Courtney said she was feeling a little nauseous and needed to see a doctor.  They are running some tests.  We skyped back in with Shawn and Jake back home, or as they refer to it, rash central.  Apparently the satellite went down during the snow storm.  They said that is OK because they are a little preoccupied dealing with the chicken pox outbreak anyways. 

Day Five.  Courtney got her test results back today.  I don’t know if you would refer to them as negative or positive, but she is expecting quadruplets.  We are off to Holland now.  The whole family seems to be pretty excited about it except Greg and Courtney.  They just seem to be walking around in a bit of a haze.  Greg walked into a pole earlier and apologized.  The Pole told Greg his name was Bart Kawolski and he wasn’t too upset.  Needless to say, the whole family was riding pretty high from the news.  Dad seemed the most excited, but I think that may have been more due to the fact that he was finally going to a country where he would actually be able to eat.  I had never been to Holland, but Dad says there is a place in Amsterdam that makes the best brownies he has ever had.  I can’t wait to try them.  After arriving in Holland, we settled in and checked with Jake and Shawn before bed.  They seemed somewhat dishevelled.  I’m assuming this is due to the power outage.  Thankfully, they were able to locate 4 scented candles.  Jake say that if everyone is huddled together in one room, it is actually quite warm.  Shawn didn’t have much to say, unless you count those whimpering sounds he was making while huddled in the corner.  Seems like they are having quite an adventure!

Day Six.  We spent most of today riding our bicycles and visiting family.  Dutch bingo reaches a whole new level of insanity when your are standing the very country for which it is named.  Dad vetoed the Gouda cheese tour we all wanted to go on (citing immediate onset nausea). Instead, we took a trip to Holland’s national zoo.  We were asking for directions to get to the zoo, but the person we found didn’t speak too much English.  After describing and gesturing a typical zoo with all the animals and such as best we could, he seemed to understand what we were looking for.  Then he gave us directions to Friesland.  Still, very interesting.  Needless to say, Derek fit right in.  After this we wandered around visiting the typical Netherlands sights.  We saw where Chapmans makes there Dutch chocolate ice cream.  We saw Double Dutch skipping ropes being manufactured.  We finished by going to a Dutch Oven convention.  Not recommended. 

Day Seven.  We decided to check in with Shawn and Jake before we leave for the last two weeks of our trip to be spent in Australia.  The good news is power has been restored.  The bad news is Shawn and Jake seem to have lost theirs.  Shawn was only able to whisper to us while hiding out under the bed.  The kids have Jake tied up in the basement.  Shawn says the kids keep referring to Jake as “Piggie”.  We decided as a family to cut our vacation short.  We still had a great time and I for one can’t wait until our next imaginary vacation.

Now I know what you are thinking.  What did any of this have to do with Dad’s 60^th birthday?  I would have to say, that some of my best memories of growing up were of our time spent with Dad on vacations.  There were the trips to the cottage, the fishing trips, our trips to Myrtle Beach, our trip to Prince Edward Island.  All beloved memories and all non-fiction.  In fact I probably should have done my whole speech on what it was really like vacationing with Dad.  Well maybe I’ll write about our next family trip at your 70^th birthday, Dad.  Happy Birthday Pops.                

The Trip Out East - Part One

The path down memory lane is well trodden in this blog.  It’s not that I am living in the past but the past always seems to be lingering.  It could be a smell that takes me back to Oma’s house, a picture that sparks a forgotten funny story, or a taste of something that transports you back to your childhood.  Last week I was at my sister Ally’s house and a song came on that sent my mind and my over active memory reeling back to a family vacation out East.

We were loaded up in the family station wagon.  Becky and Ally were in the back of the station wagon and were setting up Barbie land.  Derek, Scott and I were in the middle bench, Mom was up in the front navigating, and Dad was piloting the old bird.  

Dad was sporting one of his classic sun-visors; Derek had his trusty camouflage hat perched on his head and was wearing a t-shirt with a wolf howling into the moon.  Scott, for some inexplicable reason that still eludes us to this day was a full fledged Montreal Canadiens fan, and was draped with a Habs shirt.  The girls had matching clothes and matching hair accessories.  We were a fine looking bunch and we were ready to explore the Maritimes. 

We said goodbye to the house and headed east.  A large plastic ‘hamburger’ was strapped down on the roof-rack and was jammed with all of our luggage.

The first few hours of the trip flew by.  Before we knew it we were past Toronto and close to the nation’s capital.  It was at this point that the novelty of a long car ride wore off like novocaine.  Things were heating up in Barbie land in the back seat.  

“You’ve had all the best Barbie clothes.  Let’s trade.” demanded Becky.

“Fine.  But I’m not playing anymore.” replied Ally.

The Barbies went from dolls to weapons in a flash.  Dad wisely pulled off at the next exit when he saw Ken coming down on the head of his youngest daughter in the rear-view mirror.  It was time for a pit stop.  

 We were relieved to finally be out of Ontario and into ‘la belle province’ of Quebec.  Derek thought it would be a good time to serenade us all by whistling along with the music.  The rest of us chimed in from time to time with such loving phrases as “Shut-up Derek!” to “Mom, tell Derek to shut-up!”  

As we passed Montreal, Becky decided that the tasteless wad of hubba-bubba gum had to go.  She had been chewing it since Cornwall.  Scott and I had been banished to the backseat and the girls were in the middle with Derek.  Becky rolled down her window and spit her gum out.  It flew out the window but was sucked back by the force field the station wagon was creating.  The huge blob of hot pink hubba-bubba was now stuck to the side window.  Mom and Dad were not impressed.

“That’s it!  No more gum – EVER!” said Dad.

“For crying out loud, that gum’s going to be stuck there till we get to PEI!” echoed Mom.

We learned that day that hubba-bubba chewing gum was resilient stuff.  It was securely affixed to the window and was not going anywhere.  We began to discuss, with a growing sense of certainty, the theory that gum could indeed camp out in your stomach for at least seven years if you swallowed it.  

 No doubt this type intellectual banter made the car ride fly by for Mom and Dad.  After exhausting the subject of hubba-bubba bubble gum, we delved into such deep topics as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Steve Urkel, why people in Quebec talked funny, and if Timbits were actual donut holes or if they just made them separate.  Whenever silence threatened, we resorted to our favourite Home Alone quotes.  

By the time we hit New Brunswick, Becky and Ally were re-enacting Anne of Green Gables with their Barbies and were mourning the loss of Matthew.  We all paused for a moment of silence as Matthew (played by Ken) was buried in the back glove compartment.

As the trip progressed, the stereo kept getting louder and louder.  It was almost as if Mom and Dad were trying to drown us out.  Michael W. Smith’s First Decade cassette was our favourite and was in danger of wearing out by this point.  We knew every word to every song and all of the back-up parts to boot.  These are the songs today that seem to teleport me back into the station wagon.

Finally after many hours and kilometres, we made it to the ferry crossing.  Prince Edward Island was in our sights.

Stay tuned for part two...

The Call of the Wild

It was a wild place to begin with.  The small group of cottages seemed like an idyllic spot, but in reality, the grounds and lake were teeming with wild animals.  The snapping turtle population alone probably outnumbered the nearby population of Parry Sound.  For one week in August, a group of cottagers confronted the wild in an epic man versus nature battle.  This brave (and wild) group of cottagers were the Bruinekools.

 

It quickly became apparent to us cottagers who called the shots around the camp.  It certainly was not the camp-owner (though as we shall see, he valiantly tried).  As we settled down on the first night after arriving at the cottage, we were serenaded by the haunting howling of the coyotes.  Not to be outdone, the racoons engaged in some turf war over our garbage can.  It was at that point that we were glad that the thin ply wood walls were keeping the coyotes and racoons outside.  Sleep continued to evade the habitants of our cottage (and I suspect all the cottages in the camp) when the mice decided to come out.  We are not talking about one little mouse either – the cottage was teaming with mice, and they had the run of the place.  The Bruinekools do not like mice.  I recall one event many years ago when a mouse ran across our living room floor at home.  Mom was suddenly transformed into an Olympic gymnast as she pirouetted out of the path of the mouse.  I have inherited this distaste for these little rodents as well, but that's another story for another day.

The camp-owner was greeted by a line of Bruinekools at his door the next morning.  They all had the same request: mousetraps.  He told them that the cottages all had traps underneath their sinks and bade them good luck.  The Bruinekools scurried back to their respective cottages to wage war on the dreaded foe.  Mom opened our cupboard and found a whole mouse trap contraption.  It was a three foot two by four with about five mouse traps tacked on.  It dawned on us that this camp probably had a bit of a mouse problem.

Later that day, we gathered at the beach.  It was a beautiful beach and big enough for all of us to put our chairs in a big circle.  Bruinekools love to chat and the mice excitement from the night before was a hot topic.

“Those flippin’ mice were so loud last night!”

“We had one run across our bed!”

“I was almost attacked by one when I was in the bathroom!”

“I was on top of the furniture more than I was on the floor!”

While we were chatting about our mice travails, a big fat snake slithered into the middle of our circle and stopped.  The Bruinekools do not like snakes.  The Bruinekools are not typically an agile group, but the athletic moves that were exhibited at that moment were truly impressive.  Lawn chairs were vaulted, kids were scooped up, and trees were climbed.  After a few minutes, we slowly made our way back to the lawn chair circle.  The snake was still there and was apparently having some difficulties with its last meal.  What appeared to be the snake’s tongue turned out to be some kind of tail.  The snake unhinged it’s jaws and started making weird noises.  Slowly the mystery meal started to come out of the snake.  Our fear of snakes was momentarily forgotten as we tried to guess what was coming out of the snake.  Finally, the snake finished regurgitating it’s lunch.  It was a mudpuppy.   

 

 Before this holiday, I didn’t know what a mudpuppy was, nor did I care to know.  Derek, who was the resident animal expert (and also in his glory amidst all the wildlife), informed everyone that a mudpuppy was like a big salamander.  It seemed that the snake did not like the taste of mudpuppy.  After recovering from throwing up an animal that weighed just as much as he did, the snake started to slither away.  Much to our shock, the mudpuppy’s eyes popped open and he headed in the opposite direction.  Now there were two wild animals on the loose (Due to this event, the Bruinekools also do not like mudpuppies).  Screaming, leaping, back-flips, and panic ensued as the two animals disappeared.  After the coast was clear, the Bruinekools collected their dignity, and returned to their mostly upturned lawn chairs.

The next morning at the beach, everyone was curious as to what cottager caught the most mice in their traps.  If the other traps were anything like the multi-trap in our cottage, the haul was pretty big.  Our traps had to be emptied and reset after about half an hour.  The mice population was still unhampered and undeterred.  It was like a relentless attack of Orcs at Helms Deep.

The lake was beautiful and pristine.  The camp had a great dock for jumping off and swimming from.  We quite enjoyed the water until Scott jumped onto something un-water-like.  He popped to the surface, reported that he landed on something, and then proceeded to tread water above the surface.  A dark shadowy circular object floated up to the surface right where Scott had jumped in.  Calm instructions followed from one of the Bruinekool cousins.  “Swim for your lives!  Snapping turtle!”  Michael Phelps wouldn’t have been able to swim any faster than this group of cousins.  Bruinekools do not like snapping turtles. 

The Bruinekools all crowed onto the dock to watch the snapping turtle float around.  We were later told that the snapping turtle had made his home under the dock.  All attention was focussed on the turtle until we heard a loud gunshot.  Our fearless camp-owner had come from nowhere and shot the turtle.  Our nerves were already in tatters at this point, and the unexpected gunshot put some of us over the edge.  The camp-owner put his rifle aside, grabbed a large hook and scooped the dead turtle out of the water.  Apparently this was routine stuff for him.  Dinner was effectively cancelled that evening. 

Not everyone was struggling with the nature around them.  The matron of the family, Oma Bruinekool, took it upon herself to feed the Canadian Geese that were bobbing in the water just outside of her cottage.   As nice as this was, she didn’t realize that the geese were not real; they were decoys meant to lure real geese into the range of our gun toting camp-owner.  It was suggested that she re-visit the eye doctor for a new prescription.  

 It sure was an exciting and fun week, and one that stands out from all other vacations.  You may be wondering if we ever went back there again.  The answer is no.  The coyotes, racoons, mice, snakes, and mud puppies could have been tolerated, but the snapping turtles tipped the balance.  When it came to the call of the Wild, the Bruinekools did not care to answer.