2019 Annual Year-End Card

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

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

 

2019 Annual Letter

Being Thankful in 2019

 

This year's card features Stanley, a light-sculpture representing the colony of herons nesting in nearby Stanley Park. Stanley's migratory pattern is to arrive in the late fall to spend several months perched at English Bay near our house, where he joins an ever-growing collection of extremely bioluminescent wildlife. The appearance of this escapee from Disney's Electrical Parade is greeted with a mixture of delight by the local—coupled with shudders at the thought that Jon Snow was right. Winter is coming.

 

Speaking of birds, give me a telephoto lens, some newborn feathers, and I shall shoot the world. This spring and summer ushered in a short-term, long-view hobby combining photography and ornithology. Some obliging crows nested in our courtyard's palm tree, providing us with a private, up-close, nature channel while rowing. (Still adding kilometers to the erg.) Equally-amenable eagles built a nest right by a gas station in Point Roberts. You can view the results at the Peeps page.

 

Tippi Hedren's got nothing on Vancouver. Snapping the crows on their journey from eggs to nestlings to fledglings, I thought nothing about walking past a "fresh-from-the-roost" baby one day. Displeased, the parent swooped down and gave me a warning tap on the head. Friendlier crows from times past have glided close to our heads to tease out a peanut or two, so I thought little of the warning. A second fly-by dive served as an additional admonition, "Keep your distance, foot-user." A few days later, Chris also suffered an aerial attack while walking through the courtyard.

 

It seems we weren't the only victims of cranky corvids. In late June, I found myself in the admitting room at our local hospital. Why I was visiting the emergency room is not that interesting a story. More compelling is that the sole other patient being registered was a woman who had also been pecked by a crow and wanted to ensure there was no infection. While not sure of her follow-up treatment, I spent much of the summer taking a battery of follow-up tests and rounding out the roster of medical professionals for my softball team. Final diagnosis and prognosis: I'm fine.

 

Still, time spent in an ER provides opportunities both for humour and gratitude of our good fortune. My poor nurse was just trying to do his job. Hooking me up for an EKG, he asked a routine question to ascertain mental fitness, "Do you know the name of the lady who brought you in?" "That's no lady; that's my wife," came out before I could stop myself. Diagnosis: Witzelsucht (I had to look it up, too.) coupled with Dangerfield syndrome by proxy.

 

More sobering, Fentanyl has been in the news far too often this year. Individual stories are not data, this one came close to home. That same evening, while waiting at the centre for lab results, I overheard another patient who had overdosed thank the doctor for saving his life.

 

Keep passing the open windows. Working with students continues to be satisfying. Particularly good days are when I can remember and apply some principles of math or chemistry to nudge a puzzled scholar further down the academic path. The literary aspects may have become a bit too patterned, though. Temptation abounds to expand the boundaries, particularly when a student asks, "What should I write about?" I've had to squelch the urge to suggest an essay about Allie's baseball mitt. (Hey, it sort-of worked out for Holden.) Proposing a short story titled The Pension Grillparzer or expanding a tale of an old man's fishing trip has also been put on hold.

 

Retire? There's plenty of tread left on these, thank you. If this past summer vacation was any indication, retirement looks promising. Our house turned out well. The neighbours are great, and the leisurely pace of island life suits me. Mornings alternated between watching videos on math, chemistry, and physics; reading books about neuroscience and the history of English; and mining online courses for hints on building websites that actually function. (Props to the Vancouver library for giving patrons free access to the lynda.com catalog of online courses.) Oh, and there was a fair amount of exercising, socializing, and pre-gardening, as well. The terrace is well mulched and a'waiting the shrubbery.

 

I can't run, but I can walk much faster than this. The first steps of a jog one morning jolted me back to a physical therapist's warning forty-plus years ago after I tore my ACL in a car accident. "You'll be fine now. Expect arthritis when you get older." A recent X-ray confirmed the decades-old damage but, surprisingly, showed no signs of arthritis. Nonetheless, occasional jogs have morphed into long, pleasant walks serenaded by podcasts and audiobooks.

 

A neo-luddite walks into a bar. Finally broke down and got a cell phone. Well, I didn't actually get a cell phone. It was more that my wife and an American friend colluded to get me hooked for Christmas last year. Like many dealers, she even threw in two free months of coverage—and then let it slip that I was on the hook for the rest of the year.

 

Imagine my surprise upon tearing open that well-designed Apple box to realize I had a huge new bit of technology to muddle through. Initial consternation turned to glee when I discovered Airplane Mode. Clearing a flight path, I launched the phone, expecting it to loop, turn, and Immelman around the tree. Visions of morning granola delivered via iSpoon were dashed at my discovery that Airplane Mode is just for damping radio interference while hurtling through the skies trapped in a metal tube.

 

The phone subscription is based in the US, and the contract stipulates that at least 50% of the usage occurs there. Apologies to all the folks I've been pestering as I bank those minutes south of the border. Please feel free to ignore and/or erase any tirades, recitations, rants, and ruminations. Just putting in my time. Should you like to be included on the do-call list for one of my forays forays, please drop a line. With a bit of digital sleuthing, this little machine will relinquish its phone number in due time.

 

The Revolution Will Not Be Motorized. A recumbent bike has joined the stable of exercise equipment. The bike has a small ledge that enables me to use a tablet to watch The Great Courses series of lectures while pedaling. (Second call out to libraries.) Riding in a virtual peleton while studying math and physics is manageable. Wish that ledge were deeper for all the vials, beakers, and test tubes needed when riding the Marie Curie Memorial Tour de Chemie courses.

 

Still catching and driving on the rowing machine, albeit more slowly. When the Concept 2 was new, I consistently rowed a 10k in under fifty minutes. Over time, the span increased to the low, then mid, then high fifties. These days—likely as not—it takes just over an hour to cover that same distance. The slowdown may not be age-related, though. Switching from Rachel Maddow's political commentaries to audiobooks might account for my more-relaxed pace, lowered heart rate, lessoned blood pressure, and reduced speed.

 

The quest to virtually circumnavigate the globe continues. Heading north from the equator, at 25-million-plus meters, I have rounded the North Pole, cruised back down to zero latitude, and am currently in the southern hemisphere bound for Antarctica—either hugging Chile's coast or lost at sea hoping to be spotted by some friendly Trobrianders. Were the globe a unit circle, I would be 5/8 of the way around, 2250, or 5/4. Who says trigonometry isn't useful in everyday life?

 

Travel globally, eat locally. Excited about her own non-virtual journey (to France), Chris spurned my advice for more current sources to plan her trip after I shared my secret, insider knowledge gleaned from living (eons ago) in the City of Light. "As you walk the streets, try to find a tiny, hole-in-the-wall shop with a sign that may say Boulangerie or Patisserie. Should you find one, ask the proprietor about a little-known item that the locals refer to as a croissant."

 

CoQWhaaaat? From my current reading, it appears that prereqs to writing a current bestseller are: 1) be a doctor, and 2) change your stance to be proud of how many operations you prevent, rather than perform. One notable side effect of such reading is the ever-increasing list of vitamins and supplements that Chris and I enjoy on a daily basis.

 

Increased government scrutiny. Rumours are circulating that increased government security means even holiday cards are being screened. We sure hope this one makes it through unscathed. In any event, all the best from us to you for the next year.

 

copyright 2019 by Todd Strong