Miami, FLA - On a lighter note, everybody in the Miami area thinks by wife is either a Cuban or a Mexican.
Everywhere we go, people look at her a quickly begin speaking Spanish. They assume because of her sharper feaures and darker complexion that she's like them, part of the huge Latin American population in South Florida.
She's not; she was born in South Africa.
A few times yesterday we were walking around, only to have someone start talking to her in Spanish assuming she could retort.
Of course she couldn't, so I had to step in and translate. I got tired of saying it.
This picture of my sweet and I showed up on Facebook, but somebody wrecked it by leaving a Blue Light case in the background. Everybody knows I drink Bud Lite!
Huge weekend. The weather wasn't actually too bad, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway.
Both of my kids made the trek north with their mates this weekend and we were enjoying a nice Saturday afternoon when my daughter's boyfriend Josh nestled in beside me and asked me a question.
Could he marry my daughter?
Wow. Talk about an avalanche of emotions. Josh told he loves Mel, she means everything in the world to him and he'd find it an honour to be part of our family.
It didn't take me long to respond. Delyse and I love the guy and have always felt comfortable while Melanie was with him. I told him parents always have concerns about who their kids end up with, especially fathers with daughters, and in his case, we feel like we've hit the jackpot.
After this noble jesture, Josh and Mel jumped into a paddle boat and set off for a little island on our lake which we've nicknamed Diamond Island. It's nothing more than a big rock but has a steep facing on one side that's great jumping and diving off of.
I spent a good portion of my child-hood on this rock and so did both of my kids. Josh thought it would be the best place possible to get down on one knee and ask my little girl to marry him.
And that's what he did.
Needless to say when the paddle boat touched the dock on the return journey, Melanie was a different person. She got out of the boat, came up onto our deck and called for her mother to come outside.
At that point she announced something that I already knew, her and Josh were engaged.
We had a big group hug and tears were shed as Mel showed everyone her ring and it was at that point that it really hit me. We had reached a huge milestone in our lives. One of our kids was getting married.
Where did the time go? How could this be? It seemed like she was born yesterday, it couldn't be possible that we've reached this point so fast. But we have. And we're extremely happy.
And now we get on with the process of wedding plans. Apparently its going to happen next summer at a place not very far from Diamond Island.
It was a rough week for a couple of my buddies. They got fired.
First it was my long time pal Captain Phil Evans who was let go by the Astral cluster in Vancouver. He was promotions manager.
Then yesterday, Freeway frank was given the boot by Energy Radio in Calgary.
Both are fine radio guys but even better human beings. I love em' both.
Phil and I go back to the 1980's when he joined CFNY as assistant Promotions Director under Darren Wasylyk. When Darren left in 1991, Phil got the big job and stayed there until 2002 before moving within the company to Vancouver.
I met Freeway in 2003 when I made the brilliant move of joining that micro-managed mixed up mess known as the MIX. Frank did evenings for several years before taking the morning show job in Calgary.
Franks only flaw is that he's a Hab fan. Phil doesn't care for hockey.
I'm sure both he and Captian Phil will land on their feet.
We got back from Vegas at about 11:30 last night so I thought it only fitting that I deliver what I promised.
I said I would take my laptop along for the ride and post updates every day. That lasted just one day because the internet connection at New York New York cost 14.99 a day and it blows hogs.
It was slower that shit and management at the hotel must know because the minute I raised the issue they immediately took it off my bill. What they wouldn't remove was the three dollars a day for telephone service whether you use it or not.
Even if you take a cell phone, or even if you don't touch the goddamn phone for as long as you're there, they still charge your three bucks a day. It's really not a money issue, its more principle.
This is a money issue and shows how are times are changing. On Friday me and my son Danny bought half of a dozen Bud Lites in aluminum bottles only to find when we got back to the room that they don't have twist tops. You need a bottle opener.
No problem, we were in a hotel so I picked up the phone and called room service assuming that someone would have a bottle opener up to us in seconds.
No such luck. The woman on the other end told me they'd be glad to bring a bottle opener up to the room, but it would cost ten dollars and I still don't know if that meant I could keep it. I never got that far in the conversation.
First I asked her if she was serious and then I asked her if it was some kind of a joke and then I don't her that traditionally hotels usually supply things like bottle openers free of charge because it's a service to the people who are paying close to two hundred dollars a night for their hotel room.
Her response was a pregnant pause and then my response to that was to hang up.
Lucky for the hotel putting the bottle to the edge of the bathroom counter and banging down firmly did not leave a mark.
Anyway, on the good stuff, we saw The Beatles Love on Friday night at the Mirage and we all enjoyed this much more than "O". I won't go into the intricacies because it wouldn't be fair to those who haven't seen it.
What I will say is this. If you're going to Vegas and you get the chance and you have a few hundred bucks to blow, take it in. Do it. It's fabulous. The combination music, dancing and acrobatics could turn anyone into a Beatles fan.
As a matter of fact I know a few people who were indifferent to the Beatles before seeing the show and this turned them around big time.
On Saturday morning we rented a car and drove out the Hoover Dam and this was another fantastic experience. We took the power plant tour and they take you to the bottom of the dam and show you how and where the power is generated for most of Nevada and Southern California.
I won't get into the history of the Hoover Dam came about, but it's a fascinating story of taming the Colorado River which through the early part of the century was a cruel beast.
Saturday night we saw Bette Midler at Caesars and to be honest, this show rivaled the Cirque Du Soleil stuff. I don't know what to say, but in the early 70's both Delyse and I loved Midler and Delyse has always wanted to see her live.
Her show was a combination of song and old style Vegas jokes and dance that offered a bonus for our whole family.
My son Danny went to Mayfield High with a girl named Heather Graham who was a graduate of the dance program. She now dances in Midler's show and we saw her perform on Saturday night.
I should also mention that besides the "extra charges" at New York New York, it's a fabulous hotel. Situated in a good spot it has comfortable rooms and an extremely interesting casino and mall that mimics Manhatten.
We had a great time, and as good as "O" was, and as fabulous as "Love" was, and as fascinating as the Hoover Dam was and as fun as Bette Milder was, the best part of the trip was being together with my family.
It's good to get away with your kids no matter how old they are and yesterday was the supreme capper as Delyse and I celebrated our 29th wedding anniversary.
Like I've done many times over the past couple of years since I've started this blog, I'm going to take you on the road with me again.
This time to Las Vegas, where me, my wife Delyse and my two kids Melanie and Danny will spend three nights and four days on the strip this weekend where we'll see three shows and maybe take a side trip to the Hoover Dam.
The main reason for making this trip is to see "LOVE" by Cirque du Soleil at the Mirage on Friday night, but we'll also see "O" by Cirque du Soleil on Thursday night at the Bellagio and Bette Midler at Caesars Palace on Saturday night.
Delyse and I have always loved the Beatles and the constant sound of the fab four in our house over the years turned the kids into huge fans as well.
Ask either one of my kids what the greatest song ever written is and chances are very good they'll say "Imagine", because it's been drilled into their heads since they were old enough to think.
However, if they say "In My Life" instead, then I'll cut them some slack.
Delyse and I have taken many trips "without" the kids, but going to Las Vegas to see "LOVE" was something that we always designated as a family trip..... and thanks to a fortunate series of events over the past few weeks it all came together.
And I know what some of you are thinking, Bette Midler?
Sorry, but Delyse and Melanie absolutely adore Bette, and I'm not far behind. Her 1970's album "The Devine Miss M" remains one of my favourites.
So Thursday morning we'll be hopping a US Airways flight out of Pearson to spend a very busy four days in a pretty cool place, but I don't mean cool literally because it supposed to be close to 40 degrees celcius while we're there.
I think me and Dan will have some beers while we're there.
I'll take my nifty little Nikon with me and send back a daily report.
This weekend in the west -end of Toronto my son Danny will be working with Humble Howard on Man-Up, a TV series that Humble helped develop and hosts.
My boy is a technical whiz, who like so many others right now, was caught in the crunch of graduating from college just when the recession and cut-backs hit.
But there's work with Redfish Entertainment right now and Howard made the connection, so it's the passing of the baton.
Hey Freddie, I was checkin' out your site and came across your posting about the Sports Zone. I remember that show, and I loved it.
You did some whacky shit on that show but I'll always remember the night you did a neat bit with your son Danny about playing hockey. I had met him with you at a baseball game the summer before.
Ever thought of doing another show like that?
Larry P.
Hi Larry.
I've thought about doing several things, the problem is getting them off the ground. But here's that bit you mentioned. It was the fall of 1988.
Part of my house stinks, my car stinks a bit and my garage stinks a lot.
On Monday night as my daughter Melanie and her boyfriend Josh were leaving the house, their dog "Bones" ran into my open garage and tangled with a skunk.
It was about eleven o'clock and the skunk, who reportedly lives beneath Neighbour John's front porch, decided to visit the my garbage restaurant and was in the midst of enjoying some rotting leftovers when Bones bounded out of the house, got the scent of the skunk and did what any dog would do, he went after it.
Unfortunately the skunked was in the corner of the garage where I have some hardwood flooring stacked and although he directed most his vile spray into the face and down the throat of Bones, some of it made contact with the wood, and that's bad news.
Skunk spray isn't too bad if it's just in the air, but when it makes contact with something, it's a whole different story.
That's why Bones got an immediate scrub down and two days later still stinks in the head region and probably will for the next several days.
Although, I should tell you this, it could be worse. Immediately after the incident happened on Monday night, we scrambled for something to use on the dog but we never have tomato juice in the house, and it's supposedly the best thing for skunk spray.
But we did have some Ragu Spaghetti sauce with extra garlic.
Melanie took Bones into the backyard and dumped the jar over his back and worked its entire contents into Bone's fur. At first the dog didn't like it, but then he got the whiff of garlic and tomatoes and thought he had gone to heaven.
What dog wouldn't want to be bathed in something that smells like humans eat? Hell, there are a lot of food stuffs I'd love to be bathed in, with the caramel-chocolate mousse cake that I got my wife for her birthday at the top of the list.
Anyway, Bones laid pack and enjoyed the scrub down, but he wasn't so keen about the rinse off with the cold water from the garden hose.
But I'll tell ya, the Ragu made a big difference. Obviously the tomato base was a factor, but we really think the garlic had something to do with it as well. The skunk juice made a direct hit to the head, but having the entire dog covered in Ragu Spaghetti sauce with extra garlic balanced the odour enough for Melanie and Josh to put Bones in the car and head back to the city.
Yesterday the expected happened, Melanie went to a grooming place and they sold her a super expensive bottle of something that is probably nothing more than dish soap in a fancy bottle, but hey, that's part of owning a dog - getting ripped off by groomers and vets.
Last I heard, Bones was doing fine. The initial shock of the skunk hit freaked him out, but by yesterday afternoon he was lying comfortably in the backyard licking his balls like he's never licked his balls before.
It was the most joyous of Christmas's thanks to my kids.
Every year they become mildly annoyed when Christmas approaches and I don't give them any ideas about what I want for Christmas.
I usually come up with the usual dad thing and say "nothing, save your money for something important."
This year was a little bit different, while driving back and forth between Brampton and Peterborough I kept hearing a Bay-Bloor Radio commercial on the Edge talking about "internet radios'.
I found this intriguing and I wanted one and I let it be known.
I spend a lot of time checking our radio stations on line from all over the world. I think it's so cool to be able to call up any station anywhere, and within seconds be listening to it.
The problem is, or was, that do this you have to be by a PC or have your laptop open. Even the mobility of a laptop made listening to internet stations a bit of a chore because you have to find the station, then click on the listen live feature and then stream the player.
With an internet radio, there's none of that.
It sits on your night table and remains ready for action either manually or with a remote.
For it to work, you have to have wireless capability in your house, but that's the extent of it.
You simply configure the radio like you would your laptop. You lock onto your network, punch in your WEP and the radio is ready to go, and when I say ready to go, I mean ready to go.
You can choose a country by scrolling through literally every country on earth, and then you can choose a genre. Thousands of radio stations are at your disposal without having to use a computer.
Somehow this wonderful little box by-passes everything and takes your directly to any radio stations streaming system. It buffers like it does on a computer but in makes cases it takes mere seconds and offers eight pre-sets which allows you to move quickly and freely between your favourite stations.
I love the bloody thing.
Since Christmas I've listened to live talk radio out of Jerusalem, following the on-going conflict over there.
Saturday night I found a sports radio station out of San Diego that was celebrating the Chargers victory over Indianapolis.
I enjoy listening to talk radio out of New York on WABC, the Fox Radio Network and hundreds of other stations spread across this earth.
It's also handy for my work situation. While in Brampton I can listen to The Wolf and The Kruz, and while in Peterborough I can listen to Toronto radio stations. Every stinkin' one of them.
When I opened this wonderful package on Christmas morning I was "tickled pink" to begin with, but since then my love for this contraption has increased tenfold, and sometimes I just look at it and stroke it without even turning it on.
And sometimes I wonder where the saying "tickled pink" came from.
Anyway, if you're a radio junkie like I am, and you love to surf the radio net, this is the thing for you, and from what I understand, Bay-Bloor Radio is about the only place you can get them right now.
Mine is a Sanyo.
Thanks Mel, thanks Dan - you made Christmas the most joyous occasion.
Last year at this time we were putting the finishing touches on Christmas at our place in Brampton.
Delyse and I decided to invite my entire side of the family to Brampton because I had a feeling. I had a feeling it would be my dad's last Christmas.
Unfortunately, I was correct.
Dickie struggled through the fall of 2007 and even though he had good days, the bad days were bad. The frustration of being connected to an oxygen tank 24/7 took a lot out of him and despite crankin' up the air flow as the weeks went by, Dickie's condition and spirit seemed to decline.
By the time December rolled around and Christmas plans became a priority there was little question what we going to do.
Dickie and Junie were surrounded by their three kids and their spouses, seven grand kids and their mates, and six great grandchildren. I believe there were 25 of us in total.
It was a great day. The food was great, the company was fabulous and it's something we'll always be able to point to. Dickie's last Christmas was memorable.
There is a flip side of course.
Dickie's last Christmas means this Christmas will be our first without him and it will be tough on us all, but especially my mom.
Junie's been a trooper over the past few months. She has her good days and her bad days as you might expect. The good days involve memories that bring a smile to her face, and the bad days involve memories that make her heart ache with loneliness.
While the rest of us go about our busy lives preoccupied with other things, Junie spends a lot of time wondering where the hell the time went while trying to come to grips with the finality of it all.
It won't be an easy Christmas, but it will be a good one.
I'll pick my mom up today and she'll spend the night with us like she and my Dickie did many times over the years.
Tomorrow morning we'll get up and not having my dad there will be hard, but its one of those things you can't change so you fight off the tears with great memories.
Fred W. Perrin was born in 1899 and died in 1967, but thanks to the internet some 41 years after his death, I can ask the "world" not to forget.
Whenever Remembrance Day rolls around I think of my grandfather - my mother's father and the man I was named after. He died at 68 year of age, suffering with emphysema caused by an injury in World War 1.
He was only 18 years old when mustard gas was thrown into a trench along the Western Front in Europe. Only 18 years old when the poison gas caused significant damage to his lungs. He survived, but the effects of the gas would take its toll over the next few decades.
All of my memories of Papa include him gasping for air. He couldn't walk far and he had difficulty with stairs. He would be left huffing and puffing and often frustrated. In 1967 he couldn't take it anymore and passed away two days after my 11th birthday.
At the time living that long with his condition was considered surprising, but it wasn't much of an existence. My mom says his last ten years were a battle.
Ironically Papa didn't care much for Remembrance Day. As far as he was concerned what he'd been through is something he'd rather forget than remember, but that was Fred W. Perrin - one of the thousands of teenagers who went to war to preserve what we have today.
Yesterday while I was running the radio empire that is known as Corus Peterborough I came back to my office and noticed that there was a message on my phone.
I listened to it and on the other end was Humble Howard.
Howard left a message that left me heavy hearted. His sweet 14 year old daughter Charlie has one of those professional job shadowing days coming up and she has no interest in following her daddy to work to watch him do the wiener radio thing.
Instead she'd rather shadow my daughter Melanie who's a producer at MuchMoreMusic.
Howard's message was one of resignation. He knows Charlie has been around radio all her life and on many an occasion has come into work with her dad, so there's really nothing to be learned.
She knows daddy gets paid a lot of money to say stupid things on the air and make funny smells off the air. It became a big yawner about ten years ago.
But that's not the point of this posting.
What struck me about Howard's call was the passage of time. We went through a lot together, and among those things was the raising of our kids. Howard was invited to Melanie's seventh birthday, while I was at the hospital the night Charlie was born.
Where did the time go?
How can Charlie be a stunning 14 year old and how on earth can she be job shadowing my Melanie who's grown into an impressive and successful young woman?
Melanie used to baby sit Charlie for crying out loud, so it's extremely difficult to sit here and imagine that one day in the next few weeks, my daughter, who has a career, will be mentoring Charlie who ain't that bloody far away from a career.
I watched most of the Leafs pre-season game last night with a heavy heart.
It didn't hit me until the game actually started, but I quickly realized this Leaf season would be different because it will be the first since my dad died.
By this time in September I would have set Dickie up with a Leaf schedule that clearly displayed what channel their games would be on.
Dickie was from a different era. The era that had Saturday Leaf games on the CBC and midweek games on CTV. It was all so simple then.
But then all of a sudden, as my dad became older, the digital television world became newer. Following the Leafs on TV wasn't so easy any more.
Some games were on CBC, some games on TSN and a whole whack on Sportsnet and then a growing number on Leafs TV.
The television universe that just a few short years ago was manageable for Dickie, had become a wacky system that featured channels that zoomed into the 500's.
Some nights the Leafs were on channel 417, but then the next game would be on 466 or 400 or way back at 302 or 348. Don't game me wrong, my dad was a smart guy, but as he settled into his 80's, he had trouble getting his head around constantly updated digital boxes and complex converters.
That's why I always made sure by this time he had a Leaf schedule that had a big number beside every game. It made it easier for him. I actually enjoyed doing it. I looked forward to it.
But last night, because I've been so busy lately, I really didn't think about it until the puck dropped against the Buffalo Sabres.
I got caught in one of those moments yesterday. Not like George Costanza in the bathroom with the Cosmopolitan, but it was almost as embarrassing.
Let me preface this by saying I'm married to the world's most well adjusted, calm, cool and collected woman alive. She's got endless patience and wouldn't say shit if her mouth was full of it.
I'm somewhat the opposite and tend to let little things get the better of me sometimes.
Like yesterday when I was attempting to use my weed whacker again. It's useless. Delyse bought it for me a couple of years ago, and she bought it because I asked for it.
My Weed Eater had screwed up for the one hundredth time and against my better judgment I asked for another gas powered small engine jobby even though I knew these things are more trouble than they're worth.
I should have asked for the cordless re-chargable but I thought by the time I asked for a new gas machine they would have ironed out all the wrinkles and the tendency for these things to stall all the time or refuse to start for no goddamn reason.
I was wrong.
Delyse bought something called a Homelite and although it worked properly for maybe the first two or three times, since then its been a bitch bastard pain the ass.
It always starts OK when its cold, and it actually whacks a few weeds before something comes over it and it refuses to continue.
It stalls, and then you have to choke it before it even pretends it wants to start. And then if it does start, as soon as you take the choke off it stalls. And if for some reason it doesn't stall at that point, as soon as you give it some gas it definitely stalls.
Imagine being in the middle of yard work and having to deal with this. It got so bad at one point yesterday that I was continuously yanking the cord, and if it ran for a brief few seconds I would run over to some grass and try to cut it before it stalled again.
It was brutal, frustrating and extremely aggravating. So I did it. I threw it across the yard.
But I have to admit, just before I threw it, it crossed my mind that somebody might be watching me. But it was early in the morning and there was nobody else outside so I went with the law of averages and flung the son of a bitch halfway across the yard where it landed with a bang against the bottom of the fence.
And then almost instantly I heard a tapping. Like someone was tapping on a window. So I looked up, and there in the bedroom window was Delyse giving me a sarcastic thumbs-up.
In my world, this was trouble. Delyse is the most patient and tolerant person in the world, but when it comes to my impatience, she has no patience or tolerance.
I sheepishly nodded as she left the window with a look of disgust on her face.
I finished doing a few things around the yard and then prepared myself to go into the house and face the music. But I decided to be pro-active. Rather than wait for her to bring it up, I decided to bound into the house and explain myself.
"Dol" I said. (That's what I call her) "What I did was stupid, silly and immature. There's no excuse for it and it would have been awful if someone else had seen it. Like one of neighbour John's kids or Danny's girlfriend (who I'm just getting to know). But I had to do it hon, that piece of crap has been haunting me for two years now. It was the wrong thing to do and solved nothing..... but I'll tell ya something, it felt great!"
What happened at that point surprised me. She laughed. My little darlin' laughed.
Turns out she has witnessed what I've been going through with that hunk of junk over the past couple of years and she understood. She understood the extent of my frustration and how it could push me to the point of an outburst.
Too many times she saw me pulling on that cord to the point of exhaustion only to have it sputter and spit in my face. She understood.
Today I'm going to crush it with the back wheels of my Pathfinder.
My dad would have been 83 years old today and it brings back a lot of memories, and nothing but good ones.
As I've stated many times on this blog, Dickie was a great guy and a fabulous father and we all miss him dearly.
It's amazing how the years go by. It just seems like yesterday that we gathered for Dickie's 50th birthday in the backyard of our house on Chopin Ave. in Scarborough.
We bought him a football T-shirt with the number 50 on it, and the words BIG DICK across the shoulders.
At the time I couldn't believe my dad was actually 50 years old - two years younger than I am now.
And its funny how times change. I remember when I was just a little kid, on my dads birthday due to lack of funds I would often scrape together 48 cents and buy him a pack of cigarettes. Buckingham, large, non-filter.
I don't think there are too many kids buying their father cigarettes for their birthday in 2008.
Once I got a part time job I elevated my gift giving by buying him a case of beer, but not his usual Molson Golden, I'd go the extra couple of bucks and get him a case of Brador with the gold foil around the neck.
In the most recent years, there's was nothing Dickie liked better than a gift card. It gave him a good excuse to go and spend a few hours in the aisles of Canadian Tire or Home Depot.
I wondered how I'd feel today and to be honest, I don' feel sad. I really don't.
I miss my dad but I hold onto the fact that we had him for a long time and when his body had finally had enough, he didn't suffer long.
A great guy, a great life and great memories. How can you feel sad about that?
As a parent, you want your kids to experience all they can. Why wouldn't you?
Life experience develops character and we all want our kids to be solid citizens don't we?
OK, not all of us. I'm forgetting about the skunks in our society who blast their seed all over the place and then take off with no accountability, but if you read this blog often, you know how I feel about that, so I'll move on.
This past weekend both my kids went to Chicago for Lollapalooza and it made me feel good.
I remember when I was in my early 20's and how enjoyable road trips could be, especially to far away places, and considering that Chicago is a nine hour drive, it qualifies as a far-away place.
Not only that, I think them to experience not only the things that I have, but also things I haven't, and other than a brief weekend jaunt to Chicago back in 1991 for a Blue Jays series, I really haven't experienced Chicago.
Since then I've often said to my wife that we should go there for a long weekend and check-out all the neat stuff they have in Chicago, including Wrigley Field, the Sears Tower and some great food.
It's often been said that Toronto could be the twin city of Chicago. The cities have similar profiles and sit on the waterfront of a Great Lake.
It was one of the first thing my daughter Melanie noticed, but on closer examination she quickly realized how Toronto is failing while Chicago in thriving.
It's hard to believe this because Toronto used to take pride in its cleanliness, but according to Melanie, there's no comparison.
The litter is a minimum, graffiti doesn't seem to be a problem, there are no bums on the streets and she found the general attitude of the people to be a lot nicer.
She also noticed that the Chicago waterfront isn't cluttered with condominiums. The city isn't "cut off" the way it is in Toronto.
My son Danny made the same observations. He fell in love with the city and wants to go because he felt a much different vibe in Chicago, as compared to Toronto. Chicago is on its way "up" while Toronto is heading in the other direction.
I find it sad, because when I was their age, Toronto was a model city and when I compared to most of the cities I visited, my hometown came out on top.
The streets were tidy, the roads were in good shape, there was no graffiti and the subway wasn't a filthy mess.
Toronto was a functional city run the way Chicago is now. As a business. A serious business run by business minded people with rational thought and fiscally responsible decision-making.
While Chicago has improved, Toronto has been pulled into the mud by a socialist city council, led by a delusional maniac.
Toronto is suffering. All you have to do is look around, and then listen to people who travel to other cities and report back.
Toronto is no longer the model that most other North American cities are compared to. It's become trashy, mismanaged experiment for a pack of losers who are ripping it apart.
When I was in my early 20's wherever I traveled I found comfort in the feeling that Toronto was a better place than pretty much everywhere else.
One of the great things about my father was how generous he was with his time. He was the ultimate volunteer, giving his time to the Canadian Legion in a executive position, the Stayner Horticultural Club and the Stayner Food Bank, just to name a few.
He was also heavily involved in minor hockey during the 60’s and 70’s, acting mainly as team manager within the Wexford Hockey Association that was based out of Tam O’Shanter Arena at Sheppard and Kennedy in Scarborough.
He was involved in the top level, which at that time was called the MTHL, it would be what Triple A is now.
Back then, a coaching staff would get a team at a young age and then stick with them for a few years. Changes would be made along the way of course, but the core of the team remained constant.
One of the players may dad managed through most of the 1960’s was former Maple Leaf John Anderson, and he was always one of Dickie’s favourites.
Through the years with Dickie, John Anderson was a good player, a good captain and a good kid, and that’s why my dad was so excited one June night in 1977 when he got the call that John had been drafted by the Leafs.
He and Junie got in the car and drove over to the Anderson’s house and shared in the celebration. Dickie was happy for John and proud as punch that one of “his” kids had made it the NHL, let alone being drafted by the Leafs.
Dickie followed John’s career through the NHL, and for the years following that, would often ask me “what John was up to.”
Well, “what John was up to” was becoming a very successful minor league coach, and it culminated with another Calder Cup victory with the Chicago Wolves this spring. One of their victims was the Marlies.
Anderson won two Calder Cups with the Wolves, and he captured a couple of Turner Cups in the International League.
His teams are always near the top of the standings, and a pressing question has been over the past few years, “why hasn’t John Anderson been given an NHL opportunity?”
He certainly has proved that he deserves it, and there are lots of guys who’ve been given a shot with fewer credentials, but there were never any clear answers…. until yesterday, when the Atlanta Thrashers put an end to all the questions by naming John Anderson as their head coach.
“Andy” is back in the NHL and man oh man, let me tell ya, Dickie would have loved it.
The weekend was challenging from a personal standpoint, but I’m happy to report it was a lot better than I thought it would be.
First of all, Friday marked what would have been my mom and dad’s 61st anniversary, so needless to my thoughts were with my mother, who had to endure the first “notable day” since my dad passed away in March.
I was up north having decided that Junie would probably be better off on her own to reflect and remember and probably cry a little bit.
Finally, about eight o’clock Friday night I gave her a call and was impressed with her spirit and attitude. Her voice was bright and she sounded fine… to the point where we didn’t even talk about the anniversary. Instead she talked about going over the Canadian Tire and buying a new hose to water her flowers.
I hung up feeling a lot better, but wondering how I would feel on Father’s Day, the first without Big Dick.
It was OK.
I still count my blessings that we had Dickie for as long as we did, almost 83 years; so on days like yesterday, rather then get bummed out and feel sorry for yourself, its better to reflect on the good times and the great memories to get you through.
It’s all relative I guess. My buddy Darren lost his dad at the age of 66, so I imagine his perspective is a little different. Sixty-six is much too young, and simply not fair.
I actually felt pretty good yesterday. The tin palace is situated in a place my parents introduced me to when I was about six years old, so everywhere I looked yesterday, I saw my dad.
On the end of the dock fishing. Down by the rapids fishing. At Young’s Point fishing and just sitting on the dock looking up the lake.
It comes down to this. You have a choice. Be bummed out, or appreciate what you had and feed off the memories.
Dickie was a great man, who lived a long and productive life and we had him longer than most people have their fathers. It’s sad that he’s gone, but the memories are happy. Very happy!
Al Falkner is a long time friend of mine. We grew up in Scarborough and went through a lot of things together, including the tragic death of his father in a car accident way back in 1977 when we were only 21 years old.
Yesterday he sent me this e-mail.
Thanks Al.
Freddie,
"Hope you and your family are doing well, especially your mom.
My memories of your dad have him standing in front of a bbq, flipping burgers at the lake with his Wexford jacket on when we were maybe 13 years old. Something my Dad never did. Brenda doesn't let me BBQ either. Everything comes out Cajun style. Blackened.
I remember having a beer in your backyard when the pool first went in. Your dad came home and sat with all of us and had a drink. Another thing I never got to do with my dad.
At your wedding a bunch of us were heading back to my house to continue the party. I tried to buy a bottle of rum off him and he gave it to me and refused to take any money for it.
I think of him often. Every time we drive through Stayner and I see the beautiful flower barrels along the main street, I can picture him tending to them. I believe you told me those were his project when they lived up there."
I realize money isn’t everything and money definitely doesn’t guarantee happiness, but as the father of a 25 year old woman, I can’t help but wonder it would be like to have her walk in the door and tell me she was marrying a 37 year old rich guy.
That was it was like for the parents of 25 year old Swede Josephine Johansson who was yesterday officially introduced as 37 year old Mats Sundin’s fiancée.
I’ve got to admit, if my daughter brought at 37 year old guy into the house and I didn’t know his financial situation, I’d probably be pissed.
I’d wonder what this old bastard wanted with my little girl and I’d be concerned for her future. What about having kids and her retirement. The old prick will probably be useless down the road.
However, once it was presented to me that he was worth tens of millions of dollars I wonder how I’d react.
To be honest, I’m sure it would lessen the blow and allow me to get my head around my little darlin’ marrying someone who comes across as a cradle snatcher.
All of a sudden I wouldn’t worry so much about her future knowing that even with a pre-nup she’d be set for life before life had really even begun. I’d realize the burden of child rearing would be made that much easier and who the hell cares about retirement because retirement would start the day she tied the knot.
And I’ve got to admit, it wouldn’t hurt that along with the money came the profile of my daughter marrying a freakin’ Toronto Maple Leaf for cryin’ out loud.
I might even overlook the fact it’s Mats Sundin, although I’m sure at family dinners I’d be all over him for not accepting a trade at the deadline and for keeping company with the likes of Tie Domi.
And get his opinion on why, still to this day, a team has never won a Stanley Cup with a European captain.
This is Alliyah. She’s my brother’s granddaughter which makes me her great uncle.
For months Alliya and her big sister Mayia have been badgering their parents for hamsters, but they got nowhere.
However, being smart little turds they went to the soft spot and started badgering their grandparents, and eventually my sister in law Gwen gave in and bought two hamsters and everything necessary for owning hamsters.
Thanks for taking the time to leave a message on the website about my dad.
It’s really been great therapy. Especially for Junie who’s thrilled that so many “young” people acknowledged Dickie, and especially proud that so many people who knew him had such wonderful things to say about him.
I’ve had several people ask me how they can send Junie a note directly. All you have to do is hit the “contact me” button on this website and I’ll make sure she gets it.
Among the things I’ve been doing over the past few days is going through some pictures, and it’s funny, one of my favourites is this one.
You can’t even tell it’s my dad and my son Danny in the boat, but it epitomizes so much about him.
A lake, a fishing rod and doing something for one of his grand kids. Dickie also bought me the flag pole and Canadian flag.
Thanks for all the kind words and wishes over the past few days everybody, but I'm sorry to say my dad passed away on Saturday.
Don't feel sad for me; be happy that the world got to have such a great man for the better part of 83 years. We feel blessed that we got to have him so long.
Back in September Dickie's diabetes started to gang up on him. It affected many things that resulted in him having to be hooked up to oxygen twenty four hours a day.
If you knew my dad, you realize how punishing that was.
This was a man who loved to "putter" right up until last summer. He loved to plant his flowers and walk his dog and jump in the car and go wherever at a moments notice.
All of a sudden he could do none of that and it just wasn't fair. In the end, we welcomed his passing because no one who did so much for so many others deserved to suffer the way he did. It was hard to let go, but his time had come.
What a man he was.
At 12 years old he'd work all day Saturday for 75 cents, and then go right to the butcher shop to buy a roast for his family's Sunday dinner. He was adored by his three sisters who all claimed he was their best friend.
He gave not only to family but anyone else who came into his life and needed help.
Friends, relatives, organizations, societies, food banks and his fellow veterans, Dick was always there to offer his time and lend a hand.
The Wexford Hockey Association, the Milton Legion, the Stayner Horticultural Society, it went on and on. He raised pigeons and canaries and rabbits and dogs. His green thumb was legendary and his friendship was worshiped.
I never met anyone who didn't inevitably say, "Your dad's a great guy."
He was a great husband, a great father and beloved Papa Dickie to seven grandchildren and six great grandchildren.
Big Dick had the ability to fully appreciate the simple things in life and from them get great pleasure. It's just one part of his legacy that I will try to focus on and learn from.
I know a lot of you out there are probably wondering about Junie P.
She's doing OK, as well as can be expected.
She and my dad started going together when they were barely teenagers and last year celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. They made a great pair and that's why Junie spent a good portion of yesterday wondering how she'll go on.
But she will. She's a strong old bugger and like the rest of us she couldn't stand to see Dickie suffer any longer.
I'm sure we'll spend a lot of time crying over the next few days, but through the tears we'll talk about all the wonderful things he did and how much better the world is for having had Richard Joseph Patterson in it. And we'll smile.
As for funerals and memorials and all that kind of stuff, it wasn't Dickie's style. He left strict instructions that no fuss be made after he died.
Instead, in remembrance of my dad I ask you to pay it forward.
Do something nice for someone. That's all he'd want.
I’ve received several e-mails asking why I haven’t posted for the past couple of days, and I really appreciate your concern.
Unfortunately, my father hasn’t been too well lately and I’ve had to deal with some personal things.
Big Dick is hangin’ in there and he actually improved slightly today, but he’s got some struggles ahead of him and I want to be as close to him as I can.
If I don’t post over the next few days, I’m probably down at the Milton Hospital sitting with one of the greatest guys in the world.
Sunday morning as I hid Easter eggs all over the house, I wondered how much longer this would go on.
My kids are 22 and 25, but every year my wife still buys them a whack of chocolate eggs and I hide them in same places I’ve hid them since we moved into this house.
It seems a bit weird to hide eggs for people who often come down the stairs the morning after the type of Saturday night most young adults enjoy.
They’re hung over.
But my sweet wife Delyse insists we keep doing it because to her it’s got nothing to do with age, but everything to do with tradition.
Your kids grow up so fast it makes your head spin, and there are only so many things you can hold on to from their youth.
They’re establishing their owns lives and even though they still live under the same roof you hardly see them
They don’t play organized sports anymore. There are no more singing lessons or dancing lessons or days at Wild Water Kingdom.
The only thing you’ve got are days like Christmas and Easter, so you keep treating them like kids, those little kids you so dearly miss.
Delyse says one day they’ll both be gone, and I’ll be wishing I could hide those eggs just one more time.
It was a heated argument over the Barack Obama controversy and how much he should be held accountable.
There’s part of me that wants to cut the guy some slack. I don’t think he should be pulverized for the words of his Pastor, but my wife disagrees.
“He’s running for President of the United States” said Delyse. “It changes the rules.”
Delyse thinks if Obama had political aspirations he should have disassociated with this guy long ago and the fact he didn’t makes him pretty stupid.
What Jeremiah Wright said was way over the line and it’s ridiculous to think that Obama wasn’t aware of it, and disgusting to think that he’d continually sit in a pew year after year listening to Wright's crap.
“And what about his young daughters” asked my sweet love dot. “Have they sat there and listened to all that venom about white people? What kind of impression has it had on them? Why wouldn’t Americans start to have doubts about Obama and what he really stands for and thinks?”
Good questions to which I only had feeble come back.
My sweet mother-in-law phoned me on Saturday and she was quite excited to tell me something.
“Freddie! Have you got a copy of the Star today?!”
“Yes Joan, why?”
“There’s a good article in the “Idea’s” section that everyone should read!”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s called Multiculturalism’s nemesis and it’s very interesting!”
“OK, I’ll check it out.”
“You should!”
Let me explain, my mother-in-law is a very intelligent women, and whenever we get together she likes to discuss the state of the world with me.
I should also explain that she was born a “coloured” South African who now considers herself nothing but Canadian having lived here for 30 years.
She has no time for hyphenated Canadians, segregation, black centric schools or anything else that divides people.
And she especially has no time for people who come to Canada and use it for a few years before trotting back to their homeland.
Living under apartheid will do that to you.
As for my take on the article, I think Phillip's perception of what's going on in Canada is a little naiive, because the British warning signals are all around us and until people wake up and stop worrying about being so goddamn politically correct, we’re heading for the same trouble.
My 80 year old mother sent me this touching story.
"My grandmother died in the 50s, but her birthday is coming up, and that always causes me to reminisce.
The long walks we used to take to the store in town, the quarters she gave me for meaningless jobs like pulling weeds or washing the sidewalk...
Those gems were all good, but the one I remember most, the jewel in the crown of grandmotherly advice, occurred when I was only about 13. We were sitting in a park having just finished collecting some 40 soda bottles for the deposit money on a beautiful spring day.
She told me that one day, I would find a wonderful woman and start my own family. 'And always remember,' she said. 'Be sure you marry a woman with small hands.'
It's Christmas Eve so I thought I'd get away from the usual tone of this blog and extend my best wishes to each and every one of you.
I had a look at my most recent postings and thought, "holy cow, they're a little on the serious side for a couple of days before Christmas, I better soften things up with a little dose of nicety."
I can get back to all that other crap on Wednesday.
I don't plan on doing much today, other than just hanging out with the family and preparing for tomorrow.
I shipped in a big order of beer. I got some Moosehead, which my son likes, one of those Molson Pleasure Pacs for those who like Canadian or Coors Lite, and of course I got myself a big box of Bud Lite to get me through the next couple of days.
The Bud Lite cases come with NHL toques and I just know 2008 is going to be a good year because the first case I bought had a Leafs toque in it. Since then I've gotten Washington and Colorado, but hey, that's better than Montreal or Ottawa.
Have you ever had bark? My wife makes great bark and she's really gone to town this year and I'm paying for it with a couple of extra inches of flab on my midriff.
Bark is salted crackers covered with a mixture of brown sugar and butter, and then a layer of melted chocolate. It sounds simple, and to some I'm sure it might sounds gross, but its bloody good.
It's addictive. As fast as Delyse makes a pale I wolf it down which means she's had to keep the production line going. Yesterday she hid what she made and in order to get some more I had to bark for my bark.
That's right, she made me bark for my bark. But that's OK because I used to bark a lot on the Humble and Fred Show. For no particular reason, sometimes it's all I could come up with.
Maybe that's why my ass is on the sidelines right now.
Hey, here's a turkey tip. Try one of those "cook from frozen" turkeys. I know right now there are millions of people throughout North America who are worried that their turkeys might not be thawed by tomorrow. A turkey of size takes about three goddamn days.
A while back we tried one of the Butterball cook from frozen bastards and it was fabulous. They're already stuffed. They take longer to cook obviously, but they are so convenient.
Simply remove from the freezer and plunk in the oven. (remove the wrapper first)
I've got a twenty-two pounder, which means I'll have to put the son of a bitch in the oven about eight o'clock tomorrow morning, but who cares. Throw it in and let her go.
Here's another turkey tip. Take it out about ten degrees earlier than recommended. Then let it rest covered with a thick towel for about 90 minutes. Remember, turkeys continue to cook after you remove them from the oven.
By taking them out early, they don't over cook, and there's nothing worse than a dry turkey.
You go to all that trouble and then ruin the prick.
I'm also making a ham tomorrow. Not one of those fully cooked ones that you heat up and always have a funny taste to them. No, this one you actually have to cook and I'm going to do it on the barbeque. Mmmmmmmm.
I'll light the burner on one side and then place the ham on the other side and close the lid for about two and a half hours, medium heat. Good shit.
My wife makes a fabulous ginger gravy to go over the ham and I'm telling you right now, its makes the ham every bit as inviting as the turkey.
It should be a great day tomorrow; however we will have a heavy heart when we open gifts in the morning. It will be our first Christmas without our beloved Billie. We treated her like one of the kids with a stocking and presents every year.
But hey, what are you going to do? Time and age can be such a fucker.
Anyway, all the best and I'll leave you with this video.
This is a significant year in my relationship with my wife. This is the year I’m actually “not” going to buy her anything for Christmas.
I just can’t shop for my darlin’. No matter what I buy her, she takes it back.
It went on for years. I’d buy her something and she'd break it to me gently that it just wasn't right. At the same time, she'd complain that I didn’t pay enough attention to the things she liked. Whatever.
Over the past couple of years we started taking the easy route. She’d buy her “mainer” gifts from me, and I’d wrap them and hold them till Christmas day, but I’d always buy some other stuff so she’d be surprised on the big morning.
But even that started to backfire. I just didn’t choose the right stuff. So this year, I’m not going to bother at all and I have her blessing.
She has instructed me not to buy her anything. Why go through the exercise of having to take stuff back. She’ll just wait till after Christmas and buy a couple of things for herself directly.
It was mid-afternoon November 22nd, 1963; I was sitting near the back of Miss Werenga's grade two class at Ionview Public School in Scarborough.
There was a tapping on the door and Miss Werenga went back and opened it only to be greeted by another teacher who was crying. She said something about President Kennedy and Miss Werenga left the room but was back in less than a minute.
When she returned she explained to us that somebody had shot President Kennedy in a place called Dallas. She didn't get into a lot of detail because we were only seven years old and we really weren't sure who this President Kennedy guy was and Dallas could have been around the corner for all we knew.
Shortly before we left for the day our Principal Mr. Carter came on the PA and briefly re-capped what had happened and encouraged us to go home and ask our parents about it.
Needless to say the magnitude of what happened really hit home when I got home and started to watch our black and white Philco. And it escalated even more when my mom got home from work and I could see how upset she was.
Again, I wasn't sure what or who the president was but even at that age I could appreciate I was experiencing history by the reaction of everyone and everything around me - it was a very sad day. And then things changed dramatically.
I remember seeing my dad's car pull up the driveway and I was anxious to hear what he would have to say about President Kennedy but he didn't come right into the house. He stayed out in the driveway until finally my mom told me to get my coat on and go out to the car because dad needed some help.
As I approached the car my dad rolled down the window and started to ask me a few questions. I had wanted a dog for the longest time after seeing the movie "The Incredible Journey" but my parents had resisted. My dad said something like. "Do you like black dogs?" And I said yes.
And then he said "How about black dogs with white fur on their paws?"
And I said yes.
And then he said "How about this dog?"
And he reached across the seat and held up a beautiful little Heinz 57 that I immediately fell in love with.
I called her Barney (Fred and Barney) and I would have her for the next 17 years. She lived through the 60's, all through 70's and hung on until we had to put her down in 1981.
I got Barney when I was in grade two and she was part of my life through public school, high school, college and getting a job at CFNY.
I got Barney on the day President Kennedy was assassinated and she was around for Bobby Kennedy's assassination, Martin Luther King's assassination, two Maple Leaf Stanley Cups, the breakup of the Beatles, Canada winning the 1972 Super Series, the Montreal Olympics, the birth of the Blue Jays, John Lennon's assassination and my wedding day.
She was a darlin' and I'll never forget her, especially on November 22nd when we're all reminded of what an historic day it is.
Today is a significant day in the history of our country, and it must take precedent over hockey, and golf and politics. Today is the day the Canadians attacked Vimy Ridge.
It's was a defining moment in our history and a story that's as wonderful as it is horrific.
Just imagine for a moment in 2007 Canada being involved in a four day battle that would see 11 thousand Canadian casualties including close to four thousand dead and most of them in their late teens or early twenties.
My son Danny is 21 years old and I couldn't stand him being in Mexico at a resort for one week, so I can't begin to imagine what it must be like to have a child half way across the world in a time of war.
The primitive communications alone would have made this excruciating for families.
Imagine if you can, a son or daughter thousands of miles away in the heat of battle and there's no way of getting updates. A soldier would be killed and the family wouldn't find out for weeks, and it was usually by telegram with very little detail and most families never got the opportunity to claim a body.
Again, the thought of putting myself in this position makes me shudder.
On Remembrance Day I wrote about my grandfather Fred W. Perrin who was 18 years old when he was in trench on the Western Front and the Germans started experimenting with mustard gas.
Papa took a good dose and for the rest of his life lived with the affects of those few moments.
I don't know if my grandfather actually took part in the battle for Vimy Ridge. I was only 11 years old when he died and my mom says he never wanted to talk about the war, it was too painful and something he wanted to push out of his mind, so it's something I'll probably never know.
But on this day, the 90th anniversary of the Canadian military attack on Vimy Ridge we should all take a few moments to appreciate the sacrifices that were made for future generations.
Google Vimy Ridge, or take the time to watch one of the many documentaries that will be on television today. Or, at the very least take seven and a half minutes to watch the video below.
We owe it to the men, women and "kids" who gave their lives for us.
Mississauga, ONT - "Thank you again for a great story on my dad and the war that he was far too young to be involved in. I think you have finally hit on something, the Vimy Ridge war would be the war he fought, it would have put him at exactly l8.
The sad part was he was an orphan and was sent to Canada when he was only nine years old and was put on a farm in Simcoe Ontario. The people he lived with were not very nice to him and that is why he joined up and lied about his age at 17.
Imagine being in a war like that and not having anybody to come home to, but somehow in spite of it all he turned into a wonderfulman, who was loved and respected by all who knew him. My aunt once said that they threw away the mold when Fred Perrin was born.
The only other thing I heard about the war was that after he was gassed he laid in a trench for four days and somebody noticed his hand move........they took him right away to an army hospital.
When he came home he burned his uniform and would never talk about what happened to anybody not even my mom."
Dear Fred; I shall remember your Grandfather Sunday when I conduct a small service at the cenotaph in Niagara Falls. Our town holds the service in the arena. I'm convinced that the local politicians don't want to stand out in the cold, even though the Vets in Ottawa and Toronto have no problem. This will be my 20th year standing with my friend Russell Sanderson (Derek's Uncle). Russell was a sniper with the Black Watch of Montreal. I noticed him standing alone at the Cenotaph those many years ago while on my way to the arena. "There was no bloody arena over my head when I was standing in a trench over there!" He said. I was convinced. I've downloaded all the proper music and we play it at 11 am, complete with readings of "The Ode" and "In Flander's Fields". I print programs and hand them out to the 40 to 50 people that now stand with us. I'm encouraged by the number of children that show up too. I always have flowers for them to lay on the cenotaph. I just wanted to let you know that I intend to "Take the Torch and Hold it High" and carry on to my last breath.
And thank God for Fred Perrin, my Grandad Bob Prentice, now 95, and all our Veterans.
Halloween is one of those bitter sweet days for me. I look forward to modestly decorating the front of the house and having the neighbourhood kids come by.
At the same time it's one of those days that make me heavy hearted when I think of how time flies by.
It's been ten years since my son Danny last went out for Halloween and 13 years since Melanie last went out.
It was fun watching the kids get ready for the big night and taking them out in those early years. It was also a tad stressful when they got old enough to go out on their own.
There was really nothing to worry about, but by the mid 90's the new style of hysterical parenting was taking hold and you were supposed to worry about nothing or you weren't considered a good parent.
Today I'll carve the pumpkin on my own and string some orange lights across the porch, and thanks to my wife who spends a lot of time at "Winner's", there will be a new touch this year.
Signs that say "boo" and "eek".
Can you believe it? My sweet darlin' actually bought signs that say words that should only be spoken.
Run up behind somebody and yell "boo" and that's scary. The person you scare might respond with a genuine "eek"
But what the hell good are signs that say "boo" and "eek."
I asked this question of my wife who quickly responded that the signs only cost three dollars each so just hang them and don't worry about it.
Sorry, call me a prick but I really don't think "boo" and "eek" are worth six bucks.
It was early January of 1982 that my wife Delyse complained about feeling like shit, especially in the morning. Oh Oh.
A couple of weeks before, on New Years Eve, part of our celebration was a love connection without protection.
Delyse decided that she better have a pregnancy test. But rather than do it at home she set it up with her doctor. She actually took a urine sample to the drug store. We wanted to make sure.
I came home from work the next afternoon, totally obsessed with what the result would be. I knew Delyse would probably phone for the result during her lunch hour, so I waited till after one o'clock. And then I waited till after two o'clock. I was afraid of the answer. When the clock struck three, I felt pretty good. Obviously, if she was pregnant, she would have phoned me and told me.
That had to be it. I decided to phone her and here it for myself. She wasn't pregnant.
She picked up the phone and sounded cheery. That was good. There's no way she's knocked up.
"So" I said
"So what?" she replied.
"What's the word?"
"I don't know" she said.
"You don't know?"
"I haven't called yet."
"You haven't called yet….. why?"
"I've been too busy?"
"Too busy?… Dol (that's her nickname) I've been sitting here all afternoon going nuts. I need to know what's going on."
"Well then you phone" she suggested.
"How can I call? They're not going to tell me!"
"They might and anyway I'm right in the middle of something and I need to concentrate so I'm not going to call until I can deal with the result."
"OK then." I said. "I'll call."
The lady at the drug store was bright and cheery. Like over the top.
"Hi, my name is Fred Patterson, and yesterday my wife brought in a urine sample for a pregnancy test. I was wondering if I could get the result."
"No problem Mr. Patterson, just give me a minute."
I thought what? She's actually going to give me the result even though it's not me who might be pregnant. At this point I wasn't sure whether I was happy about this.
When she came back on the phone she was even cheerier. "Mr. Patterson?"
"Yes"
"It's positive sir."
"What does that mean?" (this my sound like a stupid question, but to me, at that point, "positive" would mean Delyse wasn't pregnant.)
"It means your wife is going to have a baby."
I was stunned. This couldn't be true. I was going to be a father. Little Freddie Patterson from Scarborough who still thought of himself as a kid, it just couldn't be.
"Are you sure?" I said.
"Oh yea, these tests are 100 percent accurate."
"Thank you"
"You're welcome."
After she hung up, I took the receiver of the phone and pounded it into the carpet. You see, by the time I got the result I was on my knees.
I started to shake. I didn't know what to do. So I did what any spineless weasel would do. I phoned Delyse even though I knew she was busy and this would throw a wrench into her day.
I thought about waiting till she got home, but I couldn't. I phoned her.
Of course she started to cry and told me she'd be home right away. When she got home we just fell onto the couch and both continued to cry.
We were scared. And what do two grown adults do when they've just found out they're pregnant and they can't stop crying? They run to mommy.
We jumped in the car and drove to Milton. For some reason I actually knocked on the door. I never usually did.
My mom answered the door and all she saw was the two of us balling our eyes out. She looked terrified.
"What's wrong?" she said, expecting the worst.
"Delyse is pregnant." I said.
"What?"
"Delyse is pregnant."
"Well what the hell are you crying for you asshole, (you have to know my mother) you should be happy."
At this point I gushed with my concerns with responsibility and money being at the top of the list.
Junie sat us down and eased our fears. Yes, having a baby was scary but it would prove to be a wonderful thing and all the things we were worried about would mean nothing once the baby arrived and we fell in love with it.
And you know what. My mom was right.
On September 24, 1982 Melanie Nicole Patterson made the scene and she's done nothing but make us happy and proud for 25 wonderful years.
Last night I enjoyed a lovely dinner with my family at Lucy's Seafood Kitchen on Millcreek Rd. in Mississauga.
On Sundays they offer something called "sum sum." It's most of the main menu offered in smaller portions at four dollars each. There were five of last night and we each ordered three things and that turned into a feast and a couple of doggie bags.
If you ever get the opportunity to enjoy Lucy's Sunday sum sum what ever you do order the grilled calamari - it's the only way to have calamari - the breaded stuff blows.
Anyway, as dinner came to a close last night our conversation got on to the subject of bodily functions as it so often does and this time the subject was farting on an airplane.
How you ever noticed that when you fart on a big commercial airline at 37 thousand feet, it really doesn't smell. Why is that?
It's something I've observed for a long time and when I threw it by my kids and my mother last night, they all admitted to have noticed this before. My wife didn't because she doesn't fart.
Without a word of a lie I've been married to her for close to 30 years and I still have never heard her fart and it's a source of pride for her so there's no way she would admit to farting anywhere in public let alone on an airplane.
But it's true. There's something about airplanes and altitude that brings out the gas in me and I'll tell ya, there has been many a flight where I've cranked them out non-stop but for some crazy reason, something that would reek on the ground is harmless in the air.
It must have something to do with the type of air they pump into the fuselage, or the way it flows through the cabin. Maybe the air is thinner, who knows, but there's no doubt farts don't stink as bad in the air.
From there our conversation went farts to bowel movements. Turns out my wife, my daughter and my son do something in public washrooms that I've never heard of before.
Before they sit down in addition covering the seat, they get a bunch of toilet paper and lay it on the water - this way, as my son describes it, you don't get the nuclear effect.
What is the nuclear effect? Danny describes it this way.
"When a nuclear bomb goes off the mushroom cloud comes straight up and spreads at the top and that's what the water in a public toilet can do if you don't break the fall of your stool with toilet paper and who the hell wants public washroom water on your ass."
No kidding.
My wife and daughter looked at nodding their heads like this was common knowledge and practice. To me it was just another indication of our over-reactive society.
After all, who's to say my ass is any cleaner than they guy who sat there before me.
Yesterday I spent some time with my mom and dad and was floored to find out how my mother spends a lot of her time.
She watches "Lobby TV."
What is Lobby TV? It's a closed circuit camera in the lobby of the condo she lives in and it's available on her cable TV. So of course, she watches it.
At first I didn't believe her when she told me yesterday. I thought it was just another one of those "June pranks." But it wasn't.
She constantly puts on "Lobby TV" to see what's going on out front. She especially likes to put it on in the morning to see what different people she knows are wearing to work.
Yesterday she went on and on about a how wonderful a certain woman in her building looks as she's leaving for the grind every morning.
Junie also catches special moments on Lobby TV. The other day the son of her good friend Lois arrived with a big box just as my mom was tuning in for the tenth time that afternoon.
After Lois's son left the building Junie quickly picked up the phone and asked what was in the box. Needless to say, Lois couldn't figure out how she knew about the box.
But she did, and she apparently knows about a whole whack of other shit that's going on in her condo.
To tell you the truth it scares me. I don't care so much that my mother passes her time this way; I'm more concerned that some television network will get the idea for more cheap and mindless programming.
It was exciting night at the trailer last night. A bunch of us gathered around the TV to watch the debut of my daughter's new show on MuchMoreMusic.
My darlin' is an associate producer at MMM now and last night marked the first episode of "Tip of My Tongue" a quirky and fast paced music trivia show that airs Sunday nights at 8:30
As associate producer, Melanie helps build this bugger from the ground up and among those duties is writing the entire script.
And I'll tell you right now, not as a dad, but as an astute observer of such things, it was bloody good.
It was fun to sit with Mel last night and enjoy the show from beginning to end and watch the wonderful look on her face. It was pride and she should be proud.
Two years ago, she graduated from college, and since then it's been a steady climb of experience and achievement.
It's pretty cool to watch a TV show and then see you're kids name go by as they roll the credits.
The majority of my friends had children long after I did and I constantly find myself saying the same thing to them.
You're kids are always your kids and you look at them the same way no matter how old they are.
Situations change and strategies change as they get older, but deep down you look at your kids the same way at 25 as you did when they were five.
I find myself in that situation this weekend.
My daughter Melanie is spending a long weekend at the Calgary Stampede.
Up until this morning I was excited for her. I've never been a Calgary Stampede and I want my kids to experience as much and more than I have.
When Melanie went to Europe a few summers ago I was terrified, and when she went to the Dominican a couple of years ago I was concerned - but Calgary never really phased me because it's Canada, it's Alberta it's the freakin' stampede.
Super. Now my weekend has been ruined and some time today I'll be forced to extremely irritate Melanie with a "dad" speech - the one about being careful - it's standard stuff that kids roll their eyes at.
It's been four weeks since our beloved dog Billie had to be put down and the emotions attached to this are a lot like losing your job - you ride the roller coaster of emotions, some days are fine, other days not so fine.
Of course there's one significant difference. There will always be another job, but there will never be another Bill.
One of the things about losing Bill that's made things easier is her obedience. This dog was never a problem, very low maintenance.
For most of the day she just laid there and waited for you to move so she could follow you into the next room and lay down there. In a way, this has made it easier to adjust to her being gone because you hardly knew she was around to begin with.
There is however one thing that gives me a heavy heart every time I walk into our laundry room. That's where we kept her food dish and it still sits there full of "Iams Active Maturity" and there's still a full bowl of water.
I fed Billie for the last time on Tuesday, June 12.
She didn't eat her food that day and I knew something was weird on Wednesday when she didn't touch it again. It was on Wednesday night that she collapsed for the first time.
Thursday she went to the vet and she never came home.
So now we're faced with another one of those emotional situations. We have to empty the food dish and probably put it away for good - but I can't bring myself to do it and neither can my wife or kids obviously because nobody has touched it - nobody has even mentioned it.
I guess it goes back to that timing thing. When you lose someone close to you, even a dog, they say only time can heal and I'm sure this applies to Billie's food dish.
When the dish goes it will really hit home that Billy's gone and right now, none of us are ready for that.
The news was released about nine yesterday morning, Ed Mirvish had passed away.
I won't begin to review what this man meant to Toronto because I'm sure over the next few days newscasts and newspapers will be full of the huge contributions this man made to Toronto.
Personally, when I first heard the news I thought of May 16, 1974. It was Delyse Joseph's 18th birthday and the first real "dinner date" we had since becoming an item just a couple of months before.
We did what everybody did back then, we went to "Ed's Warehouse" on King St.
My buddy Brad Bulley drove us down and waited around until it was time to drive us back to a surprise party I had arranged in our wood paneled Scarborough bungalow rec-room.
The attached picture. although now quite faded, was taken as we walked into the room, and my sweet Dol, who roughly six years later would become my wife, had no idea.
When we arrived at the trailer Thursday afternoon, it was the first time without our beloved dog Billie.
She loved it up north and like any dog, she had a certain ritual every time we came north.
First of all, she'd stand in the truck as we made the bend approaching Burleigh Falls - it's nothing unique to dogs, but something that has always fascinated me.
How do they know? Is it something in the air? She could be sound asleep in the back of the truck, but as soon as we made the bend at the top of the hill approaching the entrance off the highway she would stand up and wag her tail.
Then as I stopped the truck behind the trailer, she would pace a bit until I'd open the tail gate and she'd jump out.
At that point, one of two things would happen. Either she'd greet her best friend Joe, another beautiful dog, or if Joe wasn't there, she'd head straight for the water and cool off while we unloaded the cargo.
Billie would go for a short swim, then just sit there, chest high in water, and watch us as we carried things into the tin palace.
I didn't look forward to the first time without Bill but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Thanks goodness I wasn't alone, I had my wife Delyse with me, and over the previous two weeks we had pretty well come to grips with Bill's death.
I stood there for a few moments with a heavy heart and then I remembered what so many people had said to me - think of the good things - the good life she lived and the wonderful memories she provided, and that really does help.
I got a little emotional when Joe arrived with her family and she wandered over to greet Bill but I sucked it up and went and got her one of Bill's jerky treats as I normally would.
Beyond that, there's not a lot to say.
We're blessed with so many fabulous friends and it makes it a lot easier when they stop by and say so many thoughtful things to make you feel better.
And then there's perspective.
Billie was only a dog and she was approaching twelve years of age. Get over it and move on.
Thank you everyone for the kind words and wishes my family received over the past day or so.
On the phone, through e-mail and on the website, it was all very much appreciated.
It's absolutely amazing how the death of a dog can rip your heart out.
I realize there are probably people out there thinking "come on man, get over it, it was just a dog" and I can understand that. But at the same time, you have to live it to understand it and if you've lived it, you know it ain't easy.
I could go on for hours about what a fantastic dog Billie was but I won't. Everybody thinks their dog was the greatest dog on earth and that's what makes them so special.
They not only become part of your family, they become part of you and that's the way it was with Bill.
From the day we go her in August of 1996 she was with me virtually every day. Because of Billy, I always had company.
Doing a morning show meant I was home by 11:00 in the morning so it was just me and Bill till the kids got home. When each of my kids went off the college, it was the same thing, many hours of many days it was just me and Bill.
And over the past couple of years with my employment situation, Billy was the one constant. The kids were gone and my wife was at work so that left me talking to no one but the dog most of the time.
That will be the toughest part. Not having her around. Not having her follow me from room to room and not having her outside with me, following me wherever I went with here nose just inches from my calf.
But you know what they say; the day you get a dog you're setting yourself up for heartbreak just a few short years down the road. You know that going in, and you have to accept it going out.
Dogs are bloody amazing. From time to time everyone in your life might get pissed off at you for some thing on some level, but never your dog - with them, it's unconditional no matter how much of a jerk you can be.
I received many nice messages yesterday, including some poems, quotes and prayers and I thank you for all of it.
But the one that made me chuckle, was sent by Jim Richards of CFRB because it's so true. Here it is.
Richard Nixon once said about his dog Checkers "may I only be half the person my dog thinks I am "
The unconditional love is pretty amazing.
All the Best
Jim Richards
I hope to have the website back on track by tomorrow - I think by then I may actually care about what's going on in the world again.
I can't believe that roughly one week after posting the FreddieP. short story about our beautiful dog Billie going to the vet for her annual check-up, I have to tell you that we had to put her down on Saturday.
In the space of four days, a common canine blood disease (immune-mediated hemolytic anemia) that attacks the red blood cells took hold of Bill and wouldn't let go.
She was probably harboring the disease for some time, but it exploded over the past week.
On Monday she seemed fine, on Tuesday she was a bit listless, on Wednesday night she collapsed and by Thursday the diagnosis was in.
Billie's red blood cell count was dropping like a rock and tests proved that she wasn't producing any new ones.
She spent Thursday night in an emergency hospital that confirmed the disease and we were told that in some cases the disease is treatable and the best place for that would be the small animal clinic at the University of Guelph.
We got Billie out there as fast as we could and after being told it was a 50/50 proposition; we decided to go ahead with treatment.
But after two blood transfusions and some heavy duty drugs, the people who loved Bill the most made the decision - we didn't want to put her through any more.
She'll be twelve in December and the best case scenario would have been a slow recovery but a lifetime of medication and constant blood tests.
When we went to visit Billie on Saturday her eyes told the story. There was no fight in her, her breathing was laboured and she couldn't stand up.
She was scared to death and as crazy as it sounds, she looked almost embarrassed or ashamed that she was in such a state. But that was Billie, she lived to please us.
It as a tough couple of hours, as we reviewed all the options and realized she'd be well into her 13th year by the time we could declare any type of normalcy in her life, and again, that was a best case scenario.
Even then, with her weak back-end chances are she'd have trouble getting up off the floor.
The University vets claimed that Bill would need at least another two or three days before they could clearly decide whether she would respond to treatment, but we couldn't do it to her.
We knew our girl and as hard as it was to accept, her time was up.
She was a great dog who had a great life with a family who didn't know how much they loved her until we carried her out to a courtyard at the hospital.
And beside a tree, in the cool shade, with all of us hugging and kissing her we said goodbye to the most wonderful dog on earth.
A couple of weeks ago I wrote a piece about my mother's birthday.
She turned 80 on Friday, so yesterday we held a get together at my brother's place in old town Milton which is remarkably beautiful.
This was actually a double celebration because on Wednesday, my mom and dad celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary.
It was a great time. It was a great time, the whole family was there, we had good food and good drink, enjoying every minute a fine day with two great people who are still going strong into their ninth decade.
Thanks to my brother Joe and his wife Gwen the highlight of the day was a horse and carriage ride for June and Dick that took them through the older more established part of Milton which really is like something out of a movie.
As a matter of fact, right where my brothers lives, several movies have been shot because of a beautiful park with an old style bandstand and gorgeous town hall that I had no idea existed.
Anyway, it was a fabulous day and I took my trusty little Nikon so I could share a few moments will Dick and June.
If they make it till Wednesday - 60 years together.
My dog Billie turns twelve this December and from my perspective, there would be no reason to take her to the vet for shots this spring.
All she does in lay around all day and from some information I read on the internet, she had been so pumped full of rabies vaccine and heartworm medicine over the years there was enough in her system to last her till she croaks.
Considering her spring visit to the vet last year cost me $278.00 it was easy to get my head around the argument from several sources that there is no need for dogs to get shots every year and especially not necessary when they reach their senior years.
I simply wasn't going to get sucked in this year.
Nothing against the veterinarian, he's a nice man and he's got to make a living just like anyone else, but after a $278.00 bill I was going to stand firm this year, relieve Billie of the stress and save my self close to three hundred bucks.
Then my wife Delyse got involved. She saw the letter for the vet reminding us that Billie was due for her shots and it was highly recommended that she have a heartworm blood test this year.
The letter came in early May but I ignored it because I may look like a dummy, but I wasn't going to be one this year. Not to the tune of $278.00.
But Delyse argued that "you never know" and we go up north all the time and what if something bit Billie - anything from a mosquito to a racoon.
Delyse insisted that I call the vet because if anything ever did happen, I'd feel like shit and the kids would never forgive me.
So I caved in. But just a bit. I said I'd take the dog to the vet but I would set the ground rules.
There would be no blood tests, no stool samples, and no heartworm crap.
I'd take the dog to the vet and she'd have a quick check-up and maybe a rabies vaccine - Jesus Christ, when I was a kid you could take your dog to the pound and they'd give her a shot for five bucks and it was over. There was none of this high falootin' bullshit they have nowadays.
As I walked into the vets office he noticed that Billie had a bit of a limp and asked me about it. I said she was up north on the weekend and was chasing chipmunks and from time to time she limps.
He then explained the hip displacement problems labs can have, and although we don't necessarily know it, dogs can be experiencing arthritic pain just like humans.
I told him not to worry; I had read on the internet that you can give dogs aspirin and that's what I planned to do.
He said that was a good idea but told me to make sure I get the aspirin that's easy on their stomachs because it can cause internal bleeding if they're on it too long.
No problem I said.
Then the doctor recommended a medicine that is easy on the stomach, and works differently than aspirin. Aspirin doesn't go right to the problem area, but "Apo Meloxicam" does, and you only have to use it once a day and it works out to just slightly more the price of aspirin and the results will be quicker and more dramatic.
I bought some.
And then the doctor noticed Billie's gums. They appeared to be red and inflamed and aloud he wondered why.
I offered that maybe it was because she's twelve years old, which translates to about 72 human years and not too often you see old bastards with nice teeth unless they're fake.
He countered that maybe it was a bacteria build up somewhere else in her body and it was manifesting in her gums. This is common and could mean kidney or liver problems.
He recommended a geriatric blood screening. And I agreed.
At this point I was getting a little concerned about my beautiful girl. Bad hips and a bacteria build up didn't sound too good, but the vet made me feel better when he told me Billie wouldn't need a rabies vaccine because he had given her a two year jobbie in 2006.
"What about heartworm." I said
"I'll give you the medicine." He said.
"But is it really necessary?" I questioned.
"If you're going up north every weekend where there are lots of mosquitoes, I highly recommend it."
He went on to say that the incidences of heartworm were actually growing and not only did he recommend heartworm medicine, he thought I should use the new topical kind that you spray on their necks - it's slightly more expensive, but way more protective.
I told him to give me some.
At that point, the doctor told me he was finished. Billie's examination was over, and for the most part, she was doing pretty well for a twelve-year-old dog.
At that point, I felt pretty good about myself. I had come into the office adamant that I wasn't going to pay for both heartworm treatment and a rabies vaccine and as it turned out I didn't have to pay for the rabies vaccine.
I had won half the battle, so it was no problem paying the bill.
"I was just wondering if there was any update on the Ham Sandwich. I loved that story and shared it with a number of people. We are all waiting patiently for the conclusion."
Regards,
Neal McHenry
Neal,
I'd like this story to be more interesting or more dramatic, but since the day I was there and wrote the posting, nothing has happened.
I phoned Dickie last night and he assured me no ham sandwiches have been found in his impatiens.
I'm almost a little disappointed because it's a confrontation I was looking forward to.
I got a call from my mother yesterday and she was quite excited because in her words, she got her "old lady license."
The old blister turns 80 on June 8th and provincial law says you have to take a written test to keep your license valid.
Seems odd to me; if anything you'd think they'd have to take an actual road test to prove they can still see and hear and react. But they don't. What they have to do is take an eight page written test that my mom says was quite challenging.
In her words "it was tough but I only got two wrong. One was something like a yield sign but it was orange, and the other one I can't remember because I'm an old bastard."
Anyway, she got it and she's proud of herself and the best thing is she's not afraid to drive anywhere in Mississauga.
When my mom and dad were living in Stayner she didn't like driving on the two lane highways, and she finds the city a lot easier on her nerves.
So there you have it. Junie Bug is still road worthy and if you want, hit the "discuss" button and congratulate her, feel free.
She visits this site about four thousand times a day because she loves to read the comments.
It's nice that another long weekend is upon us, not that it means much to me. I've been on the longest weekend of my life since August of 2005 and to be honest, I've had enough.
But all that aside, I feel good for all you hardworking buggers who've been anxiously awaiting three consecutive sleep-ins.
Back when I was a working man I enjoyed long weekends as well, but there's one aspect of May "two four" that bothers me, and you can lump Canada Day into this one as well..... Fireworks.
Somewhere along the line, when she was about seven or eight I do believe, my dog Billie became scared of thunder and fireworks.
And believe me, scared is a mild word. She gets terrified to the point where you can visibly see her shake. She gets totally beside herself and needs to be as close to a family member as possible.
It's a weird situation because unlike thunder, fireworks are controllable and you feel like confronting the people lighting them off and asking them to show a little compassion to a beautiful animal.
But really, how can you do that? Kids love fireworks and their fun can come to a halt because a 12 year old dog is scared by them, so you just have to put up with it.
I know that on Monday night as the sun goes down I'll wait for the first crack of a cannon cracker and then do what I've had to do for several years now.
For a few bitter sweet moments I'll let Billie stand between my legs and tremble while I stroke her back and tell her everything will be alright.
It's tough on her but sentimental for me. Billie's running out of long weekends.
I took some time out yesterday to go and visit Dick and June at their condo in Mississauga.
They love the freakin' place. It's ground floor and is roughly 50 yards from the edge of a lake. It's a beautiful setting that's enhanced by my dad's green thumb.
Within a few weeks their patio area will come alive with colourful impatiences and over-flowing hanging baskets.
As people walk along the shore line they often stop and look at my mom and dad's place because it's such a wonderful compliment to the area.
But unfortunately, there's one slight problem.
They haven't quite figured out "who" yet, but someone above them throws a ham sandwich over their balcony every day and it lands in my dad's garden.
We figure its some kid who's pulling a fast one on his mother. Mom probably makes the kids lunch but rather than eat it the good stuff he eats junk and then disposes of the ham sandwich so mom doesn't know.
I realize this raises all kinds of questions. Like why doesn't he throw it in the garbage outside of the condo? Or why doesn't he walk down the hall and put the goddamn thing in the incinerator?
To this point Dick and June can't answer these questions. All they know is that every day for over a week a ham sandwich comes falling from the sky into their garden.
Yesterday I was there when it happened. I was on the couch watching Oprah with my mom when something caught the corner of my eye. I leaped off the couch and out on the patio as my dad kept repeating something about a ham sandwich.
And there it was - brown bread with several slices of what appeared to be expensive ham in between with mayo and a bit of lettuce.
I looked up to see where it came from but there was no one to be seen on any of the balconies, which sort of pissed me off. I would have loved to get on the elevator and confront the wasteful wiener who was responsible.
But according to Junie, it's just a matter of time before they catch the culprit. There are fifteen floors and she knows about eight of the people that live above her.
That means the ham sandwich is coming from one of six other apartments, and she plans to continue her investigation - and once she determines where its coming from she's going to grab the evidence and bang on the door and ask the mother of the house if she recognizes the ham sandwich.
And if she does, Junie's going to recommend she change meat the odd time, because after all, what kid wants ham every day.
Another thing I learned at June and Dick's yesterday is that they both listen to John Oakley in the morning.
When me and Mike Stafford did the news and sports thing at CFNY back in the 80's, my parents got to know Mike very well and they've followed his career rather closely.
They were delighted when he was named to the original MOJO team and have continued to listen to him till this day.
They've also discovered Oakley and love his balance of news, humour, sports and business with Lou Schizas.
Junie refers to Oakley as "my darlin' in the morning" so I know he's got her hooked.
Say what you want about the old boot, but she's got good taste in radio.
Just to keep everybody up to date, my son Danny made it home from Mexico last night and it was a great feeling when he walked in the door.
I admit, I sound like a big suck but all the Mexican stories over the past year had his mother and I a little freaked out while he was away.
And wouldn't you know it; he did actually come back with a Mexican Police story.
On Friday night he and a few friends took a trip in Cabo San Lucas and they went to a few bars.
At the end of the night while they were walking back to the bus a guy on Danny's tour ducked into a bush to have a piss. He no sooner got his pecker back into his pants when the cops converged.
There was no confrontation or incarceration, just a quick negotiation. The vein drain cost 500 Pecos.
I received a fabulous phone call last night. It was my son Danny calling from Mexico.
Last night was night five in a seven night stay and it's been excruciating for his mother and I. We don't want to wish his trip away but given all the crap that's happened to Canadians in Mexico over the past year, we're nervous.
He may be a grown 21 year old man, but that doesn't matter, you're kids are always you're kids and from what I can gather that never changes.
Dan made a quick call to say the resort is great, the weather's been great, the booze is great and the food's been OK.
Last night he planned on going into the little town of San Jose Del Cabo.
We told him to have a good time. But don't get friendly with any shady looking people, don't dance with any native girls, watch out for hit and run drivers and when you get back to the hotel watch out for flying bullets and don't befriend any security guards who want to give you a foot massage.
I had a posting earlier this week about my daughter Melanie and her love for animals. She sent me a link to the "Daily Puppy" with no message attached; she just assumed it would brighten my day, which it did.
Well Mel sent me the link again yesterday under the subject matter "Freddy". Check it out, then bookmark the "Daily Puppy".
A lot of things contribute to making my daughter the wonderful person she is, but at the top of the list is her love for kids and animals.
Shortly after she moved into her new apartment in August she told me she wanted to get a pet and she ended up with bloody rabbits of all things. She calls them Bacon and Eggs.
Her mother and I warned Melanie not to get the goddamn rabbits but after one trip to the Humane Society she fell in love with these things that do nothing more than sit and shit.
But what are you gonna do? The kid loves animals and I love her and how can you argue with compassion - the type of compassion that allows me to receive this e-mail from Melanie yesterday. There was no message with it, just this link.
For Christmas 2005 my mother bought my son Danny a very special gift. Not you'd expect a 78 year old woman to give her then 19 year old son for Christmas. It was a box on condoms.
If you knew my mother you wouldn't think that much of it. She's always looking for a laugh and she delivered on this one. She couldn't wait to see his reaction when he un-wrapped the box, although to be honest she was probably a little disappointed because knowing his grandmother the way he does, Dan didn't miss a beat by telling her she should have bought the extra large.
Anyway, it was a fun time around the Christmas tree and I honestly didn't get an icky feeling about my mother buying condoms for my son.
I did get an icky feeling yesterday however when my wife offered to do the same thing. I think she was only kidding because I'm sure Danny's capable of buying condoms for himself, but when Delyse made the offer I felt a bit nauseous.
Danny left for Mexico this morning and yesterday he was telling him mother, tongue in cheek I'm sure, that he planned on meeting a single chick at the resort so he could shack up for the week and not have to sleep in the same room as his buddy.
It was at that point his mother told him he better watch what he's doing and did he want her to go out and buy him some condoms? And it was also at that point that all the life was sucked out of me and I got the creeps.
I couldn't imagine my wife going out to Shoppers Drug Mart to buy extra large condoms.
She only knows how to buy the small kind.
Frequent readers of freddiep.ca will find this amusing. Over the past several months I've referred to Mexico as a third world shit-hole, a corrupt backwards hell-hole, and I swore I'd never ever return there to vacation.
So imagine how I felt when I was on the phone with a Sunquest representative yesterday booking a trip to Mexico. It was surreal.
I was talking to this woman, giving her my credit card number for an all-inclusive trip to Mexico which departs on Monday morning.
I know what you're thinking - what a hypocrite, what a big mouth flip-floppin' blowhard - and if that's what you're thinking, I understand, but let me explain.
I'm not going. My son Danny is. Danny's a good boy who's never given his mother nor me an ounce of trouble. He's always done what he's been told and never, and I mean never asks for anything in return.
For the past couple of years by wife and I have been urging Danny to go on a trip. We want him to experience as much as he can before he joins the everyday working world and going away with some buddies is something we wanted him to do.
Problem is, he never really acted on the offer until this week, and still it came at the urging of me and his mother. Reading week was coming up at college so we encouraged him to go somewhere.
Well didn't I crap my pants when he came back and said he'd like to go away with three friends next week and told me Mexico was the destination?
"Mexico" I said. "Why Mexico, it's a third world shit hole Dan!"
"No it's not" he sad. "A lot of my friends have been there and they like it. Dad, we've been there and you liked it."
He was right but that was before throats were slashed, bullets flew, hit and runs happened and the Mexican police looked the other way.
What was I going to do?
"Why don't you go somewhere else Danny?"
"Because when you go to Mexico you don't need a passport and most other places that don't need passports are booked full. It's reading week in a lot of places."
And then it struck me. He's 21 years old and old enough to make his own decisions and all the qualities I give him credit for are all the qualities necessary to travel to other parts of the world and survive. I couldn't argue any more. He wanted to go and he deserved to go, so he was going. I picked up the phone and booked it.
But let me tell you and tell you loud and clear. Danny may be going but you'll never catch me in that third world corrupt backwards shit-hole again. I'm a man of conviction.
When the Maple Leafs flew to Philadelphia yesterday there were 20 extra passengers. The Leafs have decided to follow the lead of several other NHL teams and have a father and son road trip.
All the fathers of all the Leafs were invited to Philly for the road trip which will include two nights, team meals, team practices and the game against the Flyers.
It's a great idea and something I'm sure the players and their dads will appreciate and probably never forget. When you're a kid you go on lots of road trips with your dad, but when you're an adult it means even more.
Back in 2002 when I was working at my beloved MOJO, the radio station built a promotion around me and my dad. A father and son trip to Florida to see a couple of Leafs games, a Dolphins game and a Miami Heat game. From several hundred entries, we picked a winner and he and his dad would travel with me and my dad.
I remember going up to Stayner a few weeks before the trip and telling my dad. It was a great moment because he could hardly believe it.
It was hard for him to comprehend that he was actually going to get on a plane with me and head to Florida for a week to do nothing but watch sporting events and it wasn't going to cost a cent.
And we had a fabulous time. We had top notch accommodations, we ate at fabulous restaurants, toured South Beach and the Everglades, but the highlight had to be the Dolphins game.
There was something very cool about sitting and watching the Dolphins and Raiders on a Sunday afternoon in December, wearing shorts, sweating in 75 degree weather and sucking back a king sized beer.
It's something neither of us will ever forget. I was 45 and my dad was 76 at the time, and really gave us something to hold on to.
Very few of us get to experience something like that with their father at that stage of their lives and I'm so glad it happened when it did.
Big Dick is still doing well these days, but if we were given the same opportunity to do the same thing right now, I'm not sure he'd be up to it.
I had another Dad moment yesterday. I was downtown having just finished some business when I noticed I was close to the CHUM/City building.
I picked up the phone and called my sweet Melanie who's been working for Muchmore Music for a couple of years now. I was hungry and wanted to see if she'd had lunch, and I hadn't seen her in close to three weeks.
We agreed to meet at the front doors of Much and then go grab a bite. And that's when it happened. When the door on Queen St. swung open and out walked my daughter, the career woman.
She has no idea of the feeling that came over me because I didn't make note of it, but it was almost surreal. In a flash these thoughts went through my mind.
She's beautiful, she carries herself impressively, she's no longer a little girl, and where did the time go? As she came through those doors, I actually felt lightheaded.
It was just yesterday that I was meeting this kid at the front doors of Terry Fox Public School to take her to McDonalds. Now I was meeting her at the front doors of her work place so she could take a few minutes away from her career so we could go and have Indian food.
Emotions are funny, and when you experience an equal amount of happy and sad at the same time it can send you for a loop.
Yes Delyse and I have thrown I the New Years towel.
It took about 30 years for us to realize that New Years eve is the most over-rated night of the year, so tonight we'll do what most middle aged couples do. Nothing.
We made a vow a couple of weeks ago. No matter what happens, no matter what offer comes our way, we won't do anything tonight. We're going to stay home.
We might go out for dinner early in the evening, but not to some high priced, pre-set menu rip-off thing that seems to be the norm on New Years Eve - we'll go to a local spot and then come back to the house and take our positions.
Probably in our bed in front of the television watching whatever cheesy countdown shows that might be on.
That's providing we stay awake that long. Something tells me this might be the first time in close to 40 years that I haven't seen the stroke midnight on the 31st of December, and that's just fine by me.
In recent years my favourite New Years eve's have been at our friends place up in Bethany. We made a huge bonfire and cranked the tunes into his beautiful backyard and welcomed the New Year with a quick hug and a kiss.
A couple of times the weather has been so mild we've been able to play bocce under the lights at midnight.
Unfortunately that option is not available this year and we've quickly rejected all other offers for stiff house parties, boring dances and gatherings that involve big crowds.
Ma and Pa Patterson are hangin' out at home. It's a new beginning.
If I can offer one interesting thing you might do at home, it's following New Years Eve celebrations on inter-net radio stations.
Just before seven o'clock I tune in stations from England and Scotland and listen to them welcome the New Year.
If you're really ambitious you can listen to New Years celebrations all day. As I write this it's already 2007 in Australia.
It's approximately 8:25 and I'm still sitting here waiting for my kids to get out of bed. My how times have changed.
Melanie is 24 and Danny is 21 but my wife Delyse still puts on a Christmas morning like they're eight and five. There are just as many presents, piled just as high, and me and Delyse still have the same anticipation of watching them open their gifts, but there's one significant change - the kids anticipation has worn off a bit.
It used to be they'd come into our room at 4:30 or 5:00 in the morning saying they couldn't sleep and they wanted to go downstairs. A couple of times we had to send them back to bed for awhile.
But this morning it's pushing nine o'clock and there's no movement at all. I think we actually have to go in and wake Danny up. He didn't roll in till about three o'clock this morning and considering his sleep schedule it might be tomorrow before he's ready to open his gifts.
Melanie's a little bit different - she didn't go out last night and she's usually the one who kick-starts the whole process, but even she's still conked out. Mel's a career woman now so I guess the grown up schedule and long hours have taken their toll. Sleeping in takes priority over presents at this stage of her life, and after all, the presents will still be here when they get up so what's the hurry.
I just put on a big pot of "Tuscany," it's a lovely blend of coffee from a place called the "Coffee Tree" on Bloor St - a gift from Dan Duran. I'll munch on a couple of shortbread cookies, take the dog out and maybe have a shower.
Who knows, it could be noon before we're sitting down to our traditional ham and eggs before getting ready for a trip to my in-laws But no sweat, I'm just happy that all four of us are in the same house on Christmas morning - it won't be this way much longer.
I'm looking forward to having both my kids home for Christmas. Melanie will head back to the boonies from her "groovy" pad in the city, while Danny is home from school, but we hardly see him because he re-unites with his vast amount of friends.
Things will be a little different this year. My mom and dad, Junie and Dickie, usually come to my house on Christmas Eve and stay over. They get up with the kids in the morning and have breakfast before we spread out for Christmas dinner
.
They've only missed one or two Christmas's since the kids were born, but it appears the tradition is over. All because of stairs.
My house has a lot of stairs and the old buggers don't think they can handle going up and down this year. So they'll stay at their new place in Mississauga and we'll go there for a visit.
On Christmas day I'll pick them up and we'll all head out to Cambridge to my in-laws where we'll dive into the usual smorgasbord of worldly delights.
My mother-in-law Joan makes the best curry on earth. It's a blend of curries that comes from South Africa. It's crazy. A nice chicken curry with a side of her potato salad to cool things off is Freddie P's meal of choice.
This is a significant year in my relationship with my wife. This is the year I'm actually "not" going to buy her anything for Christmas.
I just can't shop for my darlin'. No matter what I buy her, she takes it back.
It went on for years. I"d buy her something and she'd break it to me gently that it just wasn't right. At the same time, she'd complain that I didn't pay enough attention to the things she liked. Whatever.
Over the past couple of years we started taking the easy route. She'd buy her "mainer" gifts from me, and I'd wrap them and hold them till Christmas day, but I'd always buy some other stuff so she'd be surprised on the big morning.
But even that started to backfire. I just didn't choose the right stuff. So this year, I'm not going to bother at all.
Apparently I've been very generous this year. I've bought her a leather jacket and a pair of boots that are exactly what she wants.
And you know what? That's all she's gonna get............ unless of course I see something I know she'll really really like.
Halloween was rather quiet on our street last night, another indication of the passage of time. There doesn't seem to be a lot of movement in my neighbourhood so I guess a lot of the kids have simply grown up.
I always have a heavy heart on Halloween. It's something I used to enjoy when my kids were young.
I'd decorate the house and I had this ritual of putting on baggy clothes and a hockey mask and flopping on the park bench in front of the house.
Kids thought it was a scarecrow until they got up real close and I lunged towards them. Believe me I caused soilage in more than one pair of underwear.
Last night was sad - hardly any kids came to the door and all it did was remind me that time has moved too quickly. And if that wasn't bad enough as I was placing the pumpkin yesterday my neighbour's friend went out of his way to tell me how old Billie looks.
I received the ultimate compliment this weekend. My wife had to go out of town on business but that didn't stop me from heading north.
But I didn't go alone. On Thursday my darlin' daughter Melanie called me and said she wouldn't mind headin' up with me.
So Friday afternoon I picked her up from work and we headed for the tin palace.
When we arrived, I was quite taken aback by the reaction. Several of our friends were quite impressed that Mel and I "could" spend the weekend together. That a 50 year old man and his 24 year old daughter had the type of relationship that would allow them to co-exist for an entire weekend. That it wasn't awkward.
I really got the impression that this was unique situation. Most young women wouldn't spend a weekend away with "only" their dad. It blew me away because up until that point I didn't give it a second thought. I was going up north, and Mel wanted to go. So I picked her up and we went.
She's my kid and I like having her around, and apparently she doesn't mind being around me. We're both a couple of nut balls and we laugh at the same stuff. Not only that, but she moved out a couple of months ago and I miss the little fart.
I take our relationship for granted but apparently it's not the norm. Go figure.
This posting might be of interest to all the old CFNY listeners who frequent this site. Those who often ask about my kids. Those who remember me having my daughter Melanie on the air at various times throughout her life.
Last night I went downtown with Mel while she signed a lease for her own apartment. Actually, she'll be sharing it with a friend. It's the top two floors of a renovated house just west of the beaches, and to say Mel is excited, would be an understatement. She's over the top.
I wish the same could be said for me. I'm actually quite sad. As I looked at her glowing face signing that document last night, like any father, I wondered where the years went.
How could the period of time between September of 1982, and July of 2006 pass by so quickly? Why do kids have to grow up, and who says they have to move out of the house in their 20's?
But as Delyse keeps telling me, Melanie is ready for this move and it's just the latest event in a young "eventful" life. Mel wants it and she's earned it.
Like her brother, she's never given us any trouble. She went to school, she went to college and now she's a career woman with a solid future. The next step was inevitable, she wants her own space.
But again, that doesn't make it any easier for me. I can't get my head around the fact that as of August lst, she won't live us anymore.
After August lst, when she comes home.. to this home.. it will be called a visit. And I certainly don't like the sound of that.
CHICAGO -- Groups opposed to circumcision are watching the case of an 8-year-old suburban Chicago boy whose divorced parents are fighting in court over whether he should have the procedure.
The child's mother wants him circumcised to prevent recurring, painful inflammation she says he has experienced during the past year.
But the father says the boy is healthy and circumcision, which removes the foreskin of the penis, is an unnecessary medical procedure that could cause him long-term physical and psychological harm.
The circumcision argument has always fascinated me. Such a pile of shit. And we learned the hard way.
Back in 1985 when my son was born I got sucked into the "no circumcision" world. I listened to all that nonsense about butchering and psychological damage and circumcision being unnatural. What a mistake.
When my son was five years old, we had to give in and have him done. And that my friends, was not easy. Talk about psychological harm.
I was kicking myself for being so stupid. When Danny was born something inside told me to have it done, but I gave in to all the arsholes who had all these hysterical stories against it.
If I had it to do all over again circumcision would not be a question. It would be done at birth.
And give me a break with all the psychological shit. I was born in the 50's, and back then just about everybody was circumcised - and I've yet to have a conversation with anyone who can remember being done, let along suffering psychological damage.
I'd say you're more inclined to have psychological damage from having a bunch of useless skin hanging off the end of your man machine.
Not only that, ask any woman what looks more attractive. A nice glistening pecker head, or an angry looking armadillo. No contest.
Miami, FLA - On a lighter note, everybody in the Miami area thinks by wife is either a Cuban or a Mexican.
Huge weekend. The weather wasn't actually too bad, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway.
It was a rough week for a couple of my buddies. They got fired.
Phil and I go back to the 1980's when he joined CFNY as assistant Promotions Director under Darren Wasylyk. When Darren left in 1991, Phil got the big job and stayed there until 2002 before moving within the company to Vancouver.
We got back from Vegas at about 11:30 last night so I thought it only fitting that I deliver what I promised.
Like I've done many times over the past couple of years since I've started this blog, I'm going to take you on the road with me again.
This weekend in the west -end of Toronto my son Danny will be working with Humble Howard on Man-Up, a TV series that Humble helped develop and hosts.
Hey Freddie, I was checkin' out your site and came across your 
Part of my house stinks, my car stinks a bit and my garage stinks a lot.
It was the most joyous of Christmas's thanks to my kids.
Last year at this time we were putting the finishing touches on Christmas at our place in Brampton.
Fred W. Perrin was born in 1899 and died in 1967, but thanks to the internet some 41 years after his death, I can ask the "world" not to forget.
Yesterday while I was running the radio empire that is known as Corus Peterborough I came back to my office and noticed that there was a message on my phone.
I watched most of the Leafs pre-season game last night with a heavy heart.
I got caught in one of those moments yesterday. Not like George Costanza in the bathroom with the Cosmopolitan, but it was almost as embarrassing.
Today is one of those days along the way.
As a parent, you want your kids to experience all they can. Why wouldn't you? 
One of the great things about my father was how generous he was with his time. He was the ultimate volunteer, giving his time to the Canadian Legion in a executive position, the Stayner Horticultural Club and the Stayner Food Bank, just to name a few.
The weekend was challenging from a personal standpoint, but I’m happy to report it was a lot better than I thought it would be.
I realize money isn’t everything and money definitely doesn’t guarantee happiness, but as the father of a 25 year old woman, I can’t help but wonder it would be like to have her walk in the door and tell me she was marrying a 37 year old rich guy.
This is Alliyah. She’s my brother’s granddaughter which makes me her great uncle.
I’ve received several e-mails asking why I haven’t posted for the past couple of days, and I really appreciate your concern.
Sunday morning as I hid Easter eggs all over the house, I wondered how much longer this would go on.
My sweet wife and I had words last night.
My sweet mother-in-law phoned me on Saturday and she was quite excited to tell me something.
My 80 year old mother sent me this touching story.
It's Christmas Eve so I thought I'd get away from the usual tone of this blog and extend my best wishes to each and every one of you.
It should be a great day tomorrow; however we will have a heavy heart when we open gifts in the morning. It will be our first Christmas without our beloved Billie. We treated her like one of the kids with a stocking and presents every year. 
This is a significant year in my relationship with my wife. This is the year I’m actually “not” going to buy her anything for Christmas.
It was mid-afternoon November 22nd, 1963; I was sitting near the back of Miss Werenga's grade two class at Ionview Public School in Scarborough.
Halloween is one of those bitter sweet days for me. I look forward to modestly decorating the front of the house and having the neighbourhood kids come by.
It was early January of 1982 that my wife Delyse complained about feeling like shit, especially in the morning. Oh Oh.
Last night I enjoyed a lovely dinner with my family at Lucy's Seafood Kitchen on Millcreek Rd. in Mississauga.
Yesterday I spent some time with my mom and dad and was floored to find out how my mother spends a lot of her time.
It was exciting night at the trailer last night. A bunch of us gathered around the TV to watch the debut of my daughter's new show on MuchMoreMusic.
The majority of my friends had children long after I did and I constantly find myself saying the same thing to them.
It's been four weeks since our beloved dog Billie had to be put down and the emotions attached to this are a lot like losing your job - you ride the roller coaster of emotions, some days are fine, other days not so fine.
There is however one thing that gives me a heavy heart every time I walk into our laundry room. That's where we kept her food dish and it still sits there full of "Iams Active Maturity" and there's still a full bowl of water.
The news was released about nine yesterday morning, Ed Mirvish had passed away.
When we arrived at the trailer Thursday afternoon, it was the first time without our beloved dog Billie.
Thank you everyone for the kind words and wishes my family received over the past day or so.
This is surreal. 
A couple of weeks ago I wrote a piece about my mother's birthday.
I took some time out yesterday to go and visit Dick and June at their condo in Mississauga.
Another thing I learned at June and Dick's yesterday is that they both listen to John Oakley in the morning.
Just to keep everybody up to date, my son Danny made it home from Mexico last night and it was a great feeling when he walked in the door.
I received a fabulous phone call last night. It was my son Danny calling from Mexico.
I had a 
A lot of things contribute to making my daughter the wonderful person she is, but at the top of the list is her love for kids and animals.
For Christmas 2005 my mother bought my son Danny a very special gift. Not you'd expect a 78 year old woman to give her then 19 year old son for Christmas. It was a box on condoms.
Frequent readers of freddiep.ca will find this amusing. Over the past several months I've referred to Mexico as a third world shit-hole, a corrupt backwards hell-hole, and I swore I'd never ever return there to vacation.
When the Maple Leafs flew to Philadelphia yesterday there were 20 extra passengers. The Leafs have decided to follow the lead of several other NHL teams and have a father and son road trip.
Yes Delyse and I have thrown I the New Years towel. 
It's approximately 8:25 and I'm still sitting here waiting for my kids to get out of bed. My how times have changed.
I received the ultimate compliment this weekend. My wife had to go out of town on business but that didn't stop me from heading north.
This posting might be of interest to all the old CFNY listeners who frequent this site. Those who often ask about my kids. Those who remember me having my daughter Melanie on the air at various times throughout her life.
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