Right-click to download printable, full-size version of card.

 

Folding the printed version once in each direction should create a traditional card.

2016 Annual Letter

This year’s letter is going to be a hard one. According to Elizabeth Kübler-Ross the five stages of grief and loss are 1. Denial, 2. Anger, 3. Bargaining, 4. Depression, and 5. Acceptance.

 

My Mother died over the (American) Thanksgiving holiday. Phoned my sister to wish her a happy Turkey Day and to let her know I would be visiting within the next week. She answered from the hospital. My Mother had fallen the night before and was waiting for one of two operations. She survived the first, was doing well, and then had a heart attack.

 

While we are very sad, there is a lot to be thankful for. She was generous, kind, and accepting. Not only was she easy to get along with as a mother and grandmother, she was also—as Chris discovered—a loving mother-in-law. She was patient with her children and the hodgepodge of curious people they brought into her life—as she needed to be. At 91, she was still living at home with my younger sister, had a clear mind, and maintained loving relations with her children and grandchildren.

 

My plans to visit southern California turned into a bittersweet memorial for my Mother. She did not want anyone to fuss over her, and her children honoured her wishes.

 

I enjoyed the many visits and phone calls I had with her over the weekends and years. She would recount tales of her upbringing in Hibbing, Minnesota, while I followed her adventures on Google Maps. (She and Chris shared a prairie heritage—and enjoyed talking about childhood delights such as skating on an outdoor rink and then warming frozen fingers/toes near the stove in the skating shack.) She was a good Mom and was happy her children turned out well. She also enjoyed my annual tales of misadventure, so I will continue with this year-end missive as I think of her.¹

 

People are amazing. The SuperShuttle driver who chauffered me back to LAX after the stay is a recent immigrant from Iran. The English classes he is taking in Los Angeles did not obviate several awkward attempts to establish I was his only inbound passenger. With no other riders, I discovered he was a fellow teacher, now living with his brothers in Culver City—after giving up an IT instructor’s job at a college in Karaj—to begin a new life in the US.

 

After all the conflicts between Iran and the US, this kind stranger unhesitatingly reacted with compassion when he understood the reason for my trip was the passing of my Mother. After a stunned, “Oh,” he immediately murmured something in Farsi I could not understand. Realizing my confusion, he apologized in English and explained that he had just said a prayer for my Mom.

 

Does your SuperShuttle/taxi/über driver offer you a tear-stained hug at the airport? This Persian did. Am I hopeful for the future, believing that people can get along in spite of past political and cultural differences? To paraphrase Molly Bloom, “Yes!”

 

Am progressing quite well along the stages of grief regarding my Mother. As for US politics, I can’t seem to get past the first stage.

 

Leading up to the US election, fellow Canadians and ESL students seemed comforted when I opined that Donald Trump was not interested in really becoming president and would never actually run in November. The night of the election I prepared to view the results with nachos and a beer, as one would a sports event. Still in denial, I am doubling down. I’ll wager a frosty beverage that the president-elect will not serve out an entire term. If he does not resign out of boredom or frustration,² he will act in such a manner that even Republicans are going to have no choice but to impeach him.

 

On a lighter and more international note, while the holiday season really should not be a time to gloat, being entrusted with a Canadian passport in these post-American times is a great comfort.

 

Walking home from teaching an ESL class shortly after the election, I bumped into an impromptu anti-Trump march on one of the main streets of downtown Vancouver and decided to join in for a few blocks. I had no banner or sign to carry, so I defiantly raised my binder of teaching materials. In retrospect, I may have inadvertently been protesting against the first conditional, second person singular, or the third (optional) Oxford comma.

 

Admittedly, I am still perplexed about how so many people chose to ignore the myriad reasons to reject the man. Joseph Campbell said the hero’s journey ultimately consists of trying to get back what was taken. Trials and adventures on the quest to regain what was lost become valuable learning experiences that the hero will use to enhance society on her/his successful return. I feel like the United States in which I was raised has been stolen by a conglomeration of immoral ideologues who are willing to support an unrepentant narcissist to further their aims. At the same time, it is important to remind myself to accept responsibility for helping to create this mess. From the relative stability of Canada, I am ready to join others to begin a journey to reclaim the lost ideals of the United States.

 

Given how hopeless things seem, how little I can alter them—and inspired by the power of a simple prayer from a sympathic Persian—I am open to trying the elusive influence of a good mantra.

 

Currently am mulling over the Christian Jesus Prayer,³ the Buddhist Four Great Vows,⁴ or the Hawaiian Ho’oponopono.⁵ I’m thinking of combining them into something akin to “Have mercy on innumerable beings. Please help us all to attain forgiveness and love.”

 

Just need to reconcile the apparent conflict between echoing a phrase in the hopes of beneficial results with the standard definition of insanity, duplicating things over and over with the expectation that the outcome will somehow be different.

 

Turns out—after all these years—I’m a decent grade-twelve English student. Who knew? Am spending a lot of time explaining the fine points of Canadian poetry, English grammar, and internationally-abhored punctuation to folks who travel to Vancouver from far-away lands to learn the finer points of metonymy, gerunds, and semi-colons. In between the more academic topics, we compare and contrast North-American culture with various homelands. Is it wrong to include ESL teachers in the category of service professionals such as bartenders, waitresses, and cab drivers who expect tips?

 

Traveled to San Francisco at the beginning of summer to be part of a thirty-plus year reunion of New Games folk. Originally acting only as on-the-bench and off-the-cuff support, I uploaded some New Gmaes photos and memorabilia to my web site. Surprise, surprise, detached, sidelines involvement escalated into full participation. Don’t spend that much time with Americans these days, but quickly overcame initial hesitations and thoroughly enjoyed catching up with old friends and colleagues. While the New Games crowd may have been a little shy and anxious after not seeing each for so long, we soon fell back into old, non-competitive habits and shared a very pleasant weekend.

 

As nice as it was to catch up with friends and colleagues from decades ago, it is as nice to witness the renewed/ongoing interest in New Games and the New Games movement. A graduate student at Columbia, a Japanese magazine, and others have since contacted me to find out more about New Games. If a Chinese curse is to wish that one lives in interesting times, may I proffer a blessing that whatever you find interesting today continues to be meaningful to people years from now.

 

Xan anybody please let me know why I’m eating a spoonful of chia seeds with my morning cereal? What is the advantage of consuming crunchy pre-tapioca? Also, would someone please buy out that remaindered stock of infernal, ceramic pets being seasonally hawked on television?

 

2016 really did have some sad and unpleasant surprises, both in the personal and social sense. I thank all of you for the support you have offered and count myself fortunate to have such wonderful friends and family. Plus, I get to live in a beautiful and welcoming—if somewhat cold—land.

 

Wishing you and yours balance and joy in the next year. Shukran, gracias, dankon, obrigado, arigatö gozaimas, grazie, gamsa, merçi, danke, xiê xiê, oh, and thanks.

 

much love, Todd and Chris

 

¹ Please let me apologize for the overuse of footnotes this year. It is inspired by Dave Eggers’ extensive use of the same in A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genuis, a memoir about raising his younger brother after their parents had died.

 

² Folks familiar with Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi’s concept of flow will recognize that flow is a state of mind that exists between boredom and anxiety. Acknowledging that Donald Trump may resign from either side of flow is probably worth investigating further, and is beyond this letter.

 

³ The Jesus Prayer goes back to (Saint) Paul's idea of praying ceaselessly. The First Book of Thessalonians 5:17 in the King James Bible has the line, "Pray without ceasing." Prominently featured in both The Way of a Pilgrim and Franny and Zooey, one version of the Jesus Prayer is, "Lord Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me."

 

⁴ Buddy Glass mentions to his mother (also in Franny and Zooey) that he one time gagged over his lunch when he tried to consciously skip reciting the vows before that meal. A version is, "However innumerable beings are, I vow to save them; however inexhaustible the passions are, I vow to extinguish them; however immeasurable the Dharmas are, I vow to master them; however incomparable the Buddha truth is, I vow to attain it."

 

⁵ Practioners of Ho’oponopono believe that repetition of the phrase, “I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you" restores balance not just to the speaker but also to those around her/him.

 

copyright 2016 by Todd Strong