October Hub 2023

October 2023

NorfolkCounty.ca/Transit

VOLUME 11 ISSUE 10 www.HubMedia.info EditorHubMedia @gmail.com

FREE MAGAZINE

BEST BALANCE LIFE COACHING

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Humidity holds me in calmness The fog tumbles in soothing seagulls alone The call of the foghorn says safety to me It reminds me I'm already home The mourning dove mourns what is passing and nurtures a vision of all that is new She lands on the pier singing softly above recalling a sense we once knew A stillness comes over the townsfolk that quietly carries Earth's song It's a tune that's heard only in silence and arrives on the first light of dawn The barometer falls even farther as the boats file in, between piers The town's resting softly in whispers as it wakes to the call of the years © Andria Long Fogarty

“If ya’ll would take good advice, you wouldn’t be here.” ~ Lazarus Lake

A RACE ��� ��� AGES

My friend Joe and I wanted to participate in an event created by Lazarus Lake, the brilliant, devilish founder of some of the world’s most unique ultrarunning events, including the famous Barkley Marathons. We chose A Race For The Ages. This race ends at noon on Labour Day. All runners age 41 and over are allotted the number of hours equal to their age in which to accumulate as many miles as possible. All those 40 and under compete over the final forty hours of the race. The winner is whoever has the most miles when time runs out. Due to its unique format, the race is dominated by the super veterans of the sport. Joe would be starting at 1 a.m. on Friday, and I would follow at 6 a.m. The course is a meandering one-mile loop, all on pavement, through a park in Manchester, Tennessee. It features a long, unshaded, straight section balanced by a section of pathway alongside a little river. The loop design gives you opportunities to see the other competitors frequently.

We left Port Dover the Tuesday before the event, giving ourselves two days for the drive. That proved to be a good plan because Joe had unknowingly selected No Highways on his phone GPS. At one point, as we motored carefully along a narrow, curving road in a barren rural area, an old beagle was wandering slowly toward us. Joe said, “Well, look at that.” I replied, “He’s probably never seen a car before.” We were in no rush and thoroughly enjoyed the off-highway route dictated to us by the phone as we talked and laughed our way south. The first night, we stayed in an old motel beside the long-closed, dilapidated Kentucky Country Music Hall of Fame. We arrived at the race site late on the second afternoon, then walked part of the route and

staked out a space for ourselves by putting up our table.

We spent some time chatting with people we know, and I tracked down my good friend Doyle, whom I last saw over four years ago.

Then we checked in at our motel, which was just one kilometre from the park entrance. The owners turned out to be terrific, very welcoming and happy to see us. We met a couple of other runners who were staying there and then headed out for dinner, driving the full length of the main thoroughfare before selecting a restaurant. Having enjoyed our dinner, we decided we would return before we headed home. The name, O’Charleys, would be easy to remember, given my name and the fact that Joe is Irish.

The next day, we picked up a few supplies and went back to the park to set up our site. After wrestling Joe’s new, never-before-erected canopy into its proper form, we put out an antigravity chair for sleeping and two metal folding chairs. I had a bag with my race clothes, a second pair of shoes and a few medical items.

For our food supplies, we had two coolers for drinks and snacks, as well as several large bottles of water. Ice could be purchased from the Ice House in the park at any time. The race itself did not have an aid station, but prepackaged meals from Cracker Barrel would be provided daily at 6 a.m., noon and 6 p.m. Most of them turned out to be barely edible. I supplemented what I ate of them with my gels, flatbread, a few cookies, bananas, and grapes.

We had somehow forgotten to do any real grocery shopping before the race.

Joe and I walked the entire route, explored along the river and then went for a hearty dinner. Back at the motel, we both had showers and a couple of hours of sleep before it was time to head over for 1 a.m. I opted to go with him, watch the start of the “Class of 83”, and then sleep on a mat in the back of our car until my early morning beginning. I slept okay but woke up a bit after 4, so I went for a little walk. For once, I arrived at the start very relaxed and in plenty of time.

There was only one other competitor in the “Class of 78”, a character named Harry, who spent much of his time barking out “Do it to it”, “Flaunt it while you’ve got it”, and other directives, indecipherable to me, to various participants through the following days.

The weather conditions were good early in the first day, with clear skies and pleasant temperatures. I remained relaxed, walking steadily and jogging occasionally. As the day progressed, so did the temperature. One veteran took the temperature down near the asphalt in the late afternoon; it was 108 degrees F. Some of those running were burning up, but walking really helps to mitigate the effects of heat on the body’s core. I was getting my dreaded lean to the right as I fatigued, but I was able to manage it by going easily and never pushing

myself. Also, as has happened in other races in hot conditions, my hands became severely swollen. I was now taking a magnesium tablet every few hours, as that is supposed to help. It didn’t worry me because I knew it was temporary. I stayed out on the course all night, appreciating the lack of sun and the cooler temperatures, although it was still warm and muggy. After every one-mile lap, I stopped at our table and had an electrolyte drink and some water or ginger ale. Most times, I had a snack, and sometimes I had to refill my bottles. This was the first multiday race I had ever done without a crew, and I was comfortable looking after myself because I wasn’t pushing hard. I liked the frequent little breaks, and luckily, I wasn’t having any foot or digestion issues. I hadn’t changed clothes or shoes and hadn’t even looked at my feet.

I surprised myself when I found out that after 24 hours, I was in third place among the 135 entrants. But the faster young runners would be gaining on me, and I’d been up for over a day with no sleep…

To be continued.

2022

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Dave Scott

These days, we often talk about how the world is falling off the edge.

Everyone has an opinion and wants to share it, which is fine, but you always need to remember that the other person may be different... not right, not wrong, just different, and that is okay.

Anger is covering the land like a thunderstorm whose lightning cuts deep into the moral compass of the very folks we are.

Honestly, it scares the s!@%t out of me, and every day, I look to find the good in folks and sigh when I see it!

For the most part, there is one thing that helps people and reminds us we are stronger as one... music.

Last month, Monica and I were at Budweiser Stage in Toronto for the MatchBox Twenty concert (Christmas gift from the kids!).

From the first tune, appropriately entitled "Friends", to the 22nd song two hours later, "Bright Lights", everyone enjoyed the show, dancing, smiling and singing.

More than once, I looked around at the sold-out crowd with its age diversity from seven to seventy and simply smiled at what I was seeing. The positive energy and release of life's worries allowed folks to be in the moment, something we missed during the pandemic.

It is incredible how a wonderful concert can restore a little faith in the human race and help you realise that (to quote Matchbox Twenty) you need to "Reach down your hand in your pocket, pull out some hope for me. It's been a long day…"

I saw that night as a society that we can survive, we can grow, and it will get better. Remember, we are all "Friends"!

C ANINE

CU TI E

The dog is the perfect portrait subject.

He doesn’t pose.

He isn’t aware of the camera.

Born and raised in Haldimand-Norfolk, Bobbi Ann has a deep-rooted pride for our area and its people.

~ Patrick Demarchelier

Constituency Office 50B Gilbertson Drive, Simcoe, ON N3Y 4L8 Tel: 519-428-0446 | Fax: 519-428-0835 Mailing: P.O. Box 91, Simcoe, ON N3Y 4K8 BABrady-CO@ola.org StoryPhotgraphy

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FROM THE CHAIR.

A concern many clients have this time of year is that their hair starts to feel dry and dull. We have all been spending extra time the past few months in the sun, the furnace comes back on, and the cooler weather makes us want to turn up the temperature in our showers. This all contributes to our hair starting to feel dried out. If you aren't already using a shampoo and conditioner for hydrating your hair, now is the time to switch. Our favourite is the Pureology Hydrate shampoo and conditioner.

Another excellent way to give your locks some love is to apply a hair mask once a week. This is a great way to restore the missing moisture in your hair, and you'll need as much moisture as you can get when those winter months come rolling in!

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"Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes" is one of my favourite Jimmy Buffett songs. His music created an escape that we have all longed for at some point in our lives.

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This month's topic with Lori is "Do what you love!"

Lill drops by to discuss Life Skills Programs at CMHA.

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Justin from Elevation Home Design talks about Home Ownership and the housing market.

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Barb Anstead, RNT, Metabolic Balance Coach Nurturing organic connections is an art form. Being still, being 100% present and simply being a neutral party, observing and holding space for another, is a rare individual, an evolution of refreshing communication. If we aren't careful, the desire to help someone we perceive as struggling can smother and damage that relationship, limiting that individual's potential to grow, learn and heal themselves.

There are wonderful self-help groups, with individuals sharing life-altering, common experiences. There are groups led by highly qualified professionals.

They understand the dynamics of these heightened, emotionally charged groups and can help others navigate and ensure tools are available for each person to grow and adjust.

Communication skills can be elusive whether in a one-to-one professional situation or our valued, committed everyday relationships. The instant we are "waiting for our turn" to share, commiserate or offer well-meaning advice is the precise instant we step out of actively listening and holding space for that person. We all do it, our minds racing, comparing our similarities, experiences, and deep emotional responses to shared life events, but ultimately waiting to share our version of our story. If we aren't careful, that compulsion robs everyone involved from true connection. We become more invested in having our turn instead of holding a spot of "grace and space".

True caring conversation, spontaneous, active, engaged and invested moments are magical, uplifting and make us feel understood.

Asking open-ended questions, "How did that make you feel?" invites dialogue, a true response, versus "Did that make you feel angry?" which ends with a yes or no.

Barb Anstead RNT | 519-410-3544 | barb@healthywellandwise.ca | 453 Queen St, S, Simcoe MICHAEL MARINI, B.Sc.Phm. Pharmacist 328 Main Street, Port Dover 519-583-3784 1-888-233-8111

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Even if we aren't very conversational, we can build our communication skills by being active, engaged listeners and asking a few open-ended questions.

We can choose to set aside our own story. We can stop building barriers in our relationships by setting our "self" aside rather than waiting to speak our version, being impatient for a turn, and comparing our own experiences with that of the person we are listening to.

Imagine, in our family units, stepping back, stepping out of being, doing, planning, organizing, structuring, and just embracing those important, transient connections. Life is finite. We spend so much time and energy on the "to-do" we forget how to "be".

We all need connections, young or old. Humans are social beings. Isolation is a terrible, soul-crushing thing. "Wholistically", health, well-being, vitality and longevity are optimized by many facets: nutritious food, water, physical activity, touch, shelter, proper sleep and daily hygiene, but mentally, spiritually and emotionally, it is by relationships with our "selves" and others.

Try life "unscripted" in your relationships!

The good listener in the room will always be remembered, no matter how eloquent and intelligent the speaker!

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ACCOUNTING, ADVISORY & WEALTH MANAGEMENT

Good Redden Klosler presents ...

I met Ike Hewitt in September 2009, and my life changed.

Ike passed away recently [2015]. He was in his 100th year! He was, without a doubt, the most amazing man I have ever met. A friendship started when we sat down in 2009 for his interview, one that I have cherished from that day on. His survival during World War II was incredible, and with his passing, I wanted to dedicate this month’s magazine to him and share his story with you.

In addition to the previous articles, there was an act of kindness on Ike’s part that was yet to be printed, and I wanted to share it with you. At the time, Ike requested that it stay just between the two of us.

Well, Ike, after discussing it with your daughter, I think it is time to let folks know a little more about one event that helped shape your life.

Let’s step back in time once again. It was late in the war, and…

The German Army was ordered to shoot all the airmen. Ike explained that two German officers approached him in the prisoner-of-war camp he was in. They informed Ike and his buddy about the order and made it clear that they were not killers. The officers told them to line up in front of them, and they would shoot above their heads. Ike and his comrade were to fall down as if they were shot.

The order was rescinded before Ike had to go through with the plan, as the German Army refused to carry out the command. A few weeks later, one of the German soldiers returned and told Ike that he, the German soldier, was being sent to the front. He asked if Ike would write him a letter

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stating that he had spared Ike’s life. The German soldier would use this letter should he be caught on the frontline. Ike wrote the note, and sure enough not long after, the German officer was captured and handed in Ike’s letter. The German officer, who could speak a number of different languages, then helped the allies in the war effort.

But the story does not end there. In the back of Ike’s journal, there was a letter in which someone thanked Ike for helping his family. I asked who the Canadian soldier was that he helped. He stood quiet for a moment and said, “Remember the German officer I told you about?” Ike had helped him out.

The German soldier had nothing after the war; his family had no home or food. Ike didn’t want the story printed because he didn’t want folks to think he was sympathising with the enemy. I looked at him and said, “Ike, that is called compassion for a fellow human being.”

Ike always told me that he was just doing his job. The enemy was just doing theirs. He never considered himself a hero. He just did what he needed to survive, to stay alive one more day…

When our conversation finished that day in 2009, Ike revealed that he had never told anyone the whole story before me. I asked why he chose me. He looked at me and said, “I trust you.” Our friendship was born!

Since 2009, I continued to pop in for tea with Ike. His door was always open, and our conservations were always interesting.

Not many of us make new friends with folks who are in their 90s, but you know we are missing out. We all need to sit and listen, to learn, to appreciate and understand a different era, to honour our history. Ike was a humble man who stuck to his beliefs.

He was compassionate and kept an open mind, something we could all learn about today!

Scan and read for more of Ike’s story in THE HUB, November 2009.

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