When looking back on this trip years from now I’m sure some details will fade away but some will stand the test of time.  Bravo to the French for putting on a magnificent event, under very trying circumstances.  I must confess that just prior to leaving for France,  I experienced some apprehension. Some forty eight hours prior to departing for France, the French Government released an app and the purpose was to notify you of an imminent terrorist attack or what to do in the event one occurred.  So we downloaded the app, and silently questioned our sanity.  The touch of angst and apprehension I was feeling prior to the trip lasted for approximately two days in France.  It’s strange to be sitting on a patio in an outdoor cafe, in the center of town, and there walking among the crowds is the French Militia.  They were in full uniform, with machine guns and other weaponry at the ready.  The visual was disconcerting, yet comforting at the same time.  The security and military presence sent a message, “you kill us…we kill you back.”  Here’s hoping the rest of the tournament goes without incident.

Truth be told that while we were there, there was a greater risk from soccer hooligans.  Ah, the hooligans were in fine form.  The Russians embarrassed themselves on and off the pitch. Their team was dreadful, and their supporters acted like punk thugs.  How bad were they? They made English fans look like victims. Then there were the twenty-five Croatian anarchists, who actually posted on Facebook that in the 85th minute of the next match they would disrupt the game by throwing flares onto the pitch.  Their intent was to have Croatia thrown out of the tournament.  Their “rationale” for doing this was that they don’t like who and how the Croatian Soccer Association is being run. Good lord, get a life.  Wait, they don’t have one, and that’s why they do these sorts of things.  So we were at the game when flares rained down onto the field.  The mental giants who perpetrated this act were lucky to leave the stadium alive. Their luck will run out.  Their names and pictures have been posted on Facebook.  That’s the problem when everyone has a mobile phone; it means everyone has a camera. Croatian authorities stated these individuals will be apprehended at the border, and turned over to French authorities.   What awaits these future Mensa Society members? Three Russian thugs who were arrested in France have already been convicted.  The sentences ranged from two years to twelve months, magnifique!

The acts of idiot petty criminals will soon be forgotten. What I will remember is that France really is a beautiful country. We travelled by train from city to city, and you can appreciate its natural beauty. Even while traveling at 306 kilometers an hour on a bullet train.  I’ll remember the quality of soccer played, especially the Croatia – Spain game.  The Irish soccer fans.  Win, lose or tie, their disposition does not change.  They celebrate and are happy just being there.  My Dad, at 78 years of age, what a champ! Always up for the next adventure.  Lastly, my brother Tom.  This trip doesn’t happen without his efforts.  He had a room in his house set up that looked like something from NASA.  Multiple computers, monitoring multiple accounts so that we could get tickets.  Without the tickets? We don’t go.

 So now it’s back to reality, watching the remainder Euro on TV.  Equally as compelling will be watching the insane versus the sane in Great Britain on TV.  Supporters of Brexit condemned England to a loss, by way of one goal.

Until next time.

Cheers,

My word, it’s been a long time since I posted a blog.  The reason is fairly simple –  unmotivated, writers block and nothing truly compelled me to write one.  I’ve come to realize that writing a regular blog is like going to the gym.  Once you stop, it’s hard to get back into it.  But like going to gym, something happens that makes you go back.  Example, you see a picture of yourself, and you rationalize that the camera adds pounds, but my God; did five cameras take this picture of me?  Back to the gym you go.  As for this blog, it was walking past a display of Father’s Day cards.

This blog is about my father.  I could use many adjectives to describe my father, but a simple phrase captures his true essence;  he’s a good man.  My father is like many dads.  Worked hard all his life, and always put family first.  Both of my parents immigrated to Canada in 1958 and they met here.  They started a family and never asked for a handout.  They provided for two sons, and gave them every opportunity to succeed.  Our household growing up was not unlike other Canadian/European homes.  Mom was the daily disciplinarian; Dad was the executioner.  If he had to get involved, I was in deep poo-poo. 

I still giggle thinking about the neighbourhood I grew up in as a child, predominately Italian, and how every household seemed to have the same playbook to get their sons to finally come home for dinner.  It didn’t matter if the Mom was of Croatian, Italian, Hungarian or of German background; it was the same routine.  The moms would come to front door, and call their sons in for dinner.  This happened every five minutes, for about forty-five minutes.  Exasperated, the moms on the street went to the heavy artillery, the father.  Every father on our street had a unique whistle.  As kids, we could identify each whistle by tone and number of bursts.  When it wasn’t your whistle?  You continued to play ball hockey.  When it was your whistle?  It didn’t matter if you were on a breakaway with a wide open hockey net in front of you; you dropped your stick and ran home.  That’s just the way it was.

I still remember my teenage years and thinking, how did these two, my parents, ever survive without my council and knowhow?  It was only when I moved out of the house at nineteen that I realized that maybe they’re not so dumb after all.  After six months on my own? I believed my parents were the smartest people on the face of the earth.  It was only then that I stated to think about the sacrifices and risks my parents took.  Meaning, I started to look at them through a different lens, one of respect and admiration.  I’m still taken aback at how proud my Dad is to be a Canadian.  It’s deep rooted and it’s based from being so thankful.  My father escaped from a communist country, one which was oppressive and treated him like a second class citizen.  He’s never taken for granted that Canada gave him the opportunity to live a free and fulfilling life.  It’s why when I ask him if he would ever contemplate moving back to his homeland, his answer is always the same, never!  For him Canada is his home, and this is where his life is.  It’s one of the reasons why when I hear the Canadian national anthem I get a lump in my throat. 

One of things I am most thankful for is that my dad taught me about my ancestry, and where our family was originally from.  I was born in Canada, but I share DNA with family in Croatia.  My parents taught me the language and I’m grateful that I can converse in two languages.  My dad taught me that when asked what nationality I was, the answer is Canadian, with Croatian heritage.  But Canada always comes first.  But one thing that Canada has never excelled at is the game of soccer, at least not on a global scale.  My dad introduced me to the game of soccer at an early age.  I was taken by it right away.  The tension, the crowd chanting and singing, and over time I realized the game of soccer was more than just a game.  As an adult I decided to thank my father for introducing me to the game of soccer, so we embarked on a soccer journey together.

It started some eight years ago, Euro 2008, in Austria.  For those who may not be aware, the European Football Association holds a championship tournament for European soccer teams every four years.  It’s soccer at the highest level, and I always believed it was a better brand of soccer than the World Cup.  No patsies or soccer fodder can qualify for this tournament.  The number of teams that qualify for the Euro is limited; therefore, every team can win on any given day.  So as a family we went to Austria to watch three games, all involving the Croatian National Soccer team.  The second game we witnessed is still burned in my memory, Croatia versus the mighty Germans.  Germany is to soccer what Canada is to hockey.  The depth of Germany’s talent pool is so deep that they could probably field two teams for the tournament, and play themselves in the finals.  So this game was truly David versus Goliath.  Croatia is a country of 4.5 million people; they produce an astonishing number of world class players for such a small country.  But still, it’s Germany we’re talking about.  Our seats were in the end zone, among the Croatian supporters.  Croatian supporters were badly outnumbered by German supporters, but they were loud in voice.  I remember looking past my brother to get a glimpse of my Dad as the Croatian National Anthem was being played.  I was thinking this must be an extraordinary moment for him.  His place of birth became an independent country in 1992, after a brutal war, and today he gets to witness the raising of his homelands flag, and the freedom to sing the anthem without the fear of his former oppressors watching.  More importantly, that they couldn’t do anything about it.  Back to the game, at best we were hoping for a tie, and silently praying that we wouldn’t be embarrassed.  Then in the 24th minute Croatia scored first.  To say the Croatian supporters went nuts would be an understatement.  Shame there was so much time left on the clock because we all knew the Germans would keep coming.  So now we’re into the second half of the game, and then the unthinkable happened, Croatia scored in the 62nd minute.  Now we’re going insane, including my Dad.  We’re up 2-0, against the Germans!  Then in the 79th minute the Germans scored, and I instantly knew that the last 11 minutes of the game would be excruciatingly long.  Our seats in the second half were located behind the Croatian net, so we witnessed wave after wave of German attacks.  They were relentless, and we got the sense that only time could stop them now.  The match clock finally reached 90 minutes, but two minutes were added for “injury” time, or if you wish Academy Award performances for the time wasted by players acting as if they were hit by sniper fire.  I swear I stopped watching the game after the first minute of “injury” time.  My eyes were glued to the referee, silently and not so silently, imploring him to blow the final whistle.  And then it happened, game over, Croatia 2 Germany 1.  It was sheer bedlam after that.  Total strangers embracing, high fiving each other, you just wanted to celebrate.  I looked over at my Dad while a total stranger was hugging me.  I could see him squeezing past my brother to come to me.  I told the stranger that we would have to continue our love affair later, and excused myself.   My Dad approached me, cupped my cheeks with both his hands, looked me in the eye and said, “thank you so much; this is the best gift anyone has ever given me”.  He kissed me on the cheek, and hugged me as hard as he could.

It was at that moment that I decided I would do whatever I could to give him this moment again.  If it meant having to take a part time job scrubbing toilets so I could afford to do this again, then so be it.  I am blessed and fortunate that I did not have to purchase rubber gloves or a toilet scrubbing brush so that I could share these moments with my Dad again.  In 2012 we went to Poland for Euro 2012.  As you read this, we are in France for Euro 2016.  My Dad, my brother and a family friend, who went with us in 2012, decided that the evil, which is far too prevalent in the world today, would not stop us from living our lives.  When we started this journey back in 2008, I thought I was doing this for my father.  I have come to realize that I have been doing this for myself.  If I was to lose every material possession I have tomorrow, the one thing that could never be taken away from me is my memories.

To all Dads, especially mine, Happy Father’s Day.

Until next time.

Cheers,

Many, many, and I do mean many, moons ago I worked with Mike Cooper at CFTR. Back then CFTR was a rock radio station, and we battled mightily against the then powerhouse, 1050 CHUM. Back at CFTR, I worked as an intern, that’s code for free, and eventually got a full time gig working the board. My responsibility was to make sure the songs made it to air; you never missed playing a commercial, always pumped the on air jock’s tires, and never pissed them off.  It was simple, the jock was the star, and I was the help. Working the board was my entry point into that business. My goal was to be on the other side of the glass, and be the on-air talent. Every once in a while I would work the board for Cooper’s show. He was a pro, and now and then he would put me and his regular “producer”, on the air to do a bit.  We would do character voices, and Cooper was a great straight man. He would laugh his ass off on air as we did our shtick, and we had to work at not busting a gut ourselves. His regular “producer” (who just happens to work in our industry today, what a small world) was on-air with Cooper more frequently. I never asked his regular producer what he felt like when he finished doing a “bit” with Cooper on the air. For me? Easy; my god, what a rush. Watching Cooper work stoked my internal flame.  Truthfully, I wanted to be him on the air.

I have some great memories from my rather short radio career. I met some interesting people along the way.  When I listen to John Derringer in the morning, on Q107, every once in a while I think about him taking over for me on the board after I just finished working the grave yard shift at CFTR. Or if I listen to John Oakley, on AM640, I think about the time we were roommates in Orillia, Ontario. We both worked on air then for the local radio station, CFOR. We both loved what we were doing.  We must have considering we worked for dog wages, and lived in a dump. I still laugh today thinking that I used to have to take as shower wearing high-top running shoes because the bathtub was disgustingly dirty. Both Derringer and Oakley went on to great success. They persevered, and chased the dream. I decided to choose another path, and never once have I said, “what if?” But I don’t for a second regret a minute I spent in the radio business. The radio business gets in your blood. Frankly, if a local station was to offer me the odd on-air shift to do on a weekend, I would probably do it, for free.  This is remarkable because there are not many things I do in this world for free anymore.

I hope Mike Cooper finds happiness in the next chapter of his life.  I thank him for inspiring and motivating a wet behind the ears kid; a kid who suspended reality, and chased the dream.  Albeit, it ended up being a different dream.

Until next time,

Cheers.

It’s the start of a new year. 

Sure, many were back to work on the 4th of January, but in our industry things get back to “normal” the second week of January.  So, here we are.  Like most people, I believe that what’s ahead will be better than the journey just travelled.  However, to be totally candid, 2015 was a very good year for me.  On all fronts, be it personal or professional.  Having a better year will be a challenge, but that’s life.  You push, you strive, and you never settle.  Frame of mind is critical, and over the last six months I’ve been working on just that.

Not to get all Tony Robbins on you, “awake the giant within…love yourself…blah, blah, blah”, your state of mind plays an import part of all your outcomes.  We all have to fight against a self-fulfilling prophecy.  If you think it sucks, it may not actually suck, but it will eventually suck.  In this day and age it can be challenge to stay positive.  We are constantly bombarded with predictions of doom and gloom.  Take this week for an example, the Canadian dollar dipped below 70 cents U.S., and a very respected economist is predicting it could drop to 59 cents U.S.  And as every info-commercial says, “but wait, there’s more”.  It’s now being suggested that oil could drop to $20 USD a barrel.  All this in the second week of January.  So, how does one pushback against all the white noise?

Here’s what I did.  Firstly, I was finally honest with myself, and I admitted that I was an information and news junkie.  I became obsessed, and needed my daily fix of bad news.  Trust me; it’s not hard to find bad news.  In today’s world it’s everywhere.  It takes a lot more work today to dodge the bad news assault.  Given the reality that we all live in an information world, I came to the conclusion that I had to change my information gathering habits. So no more Fox News, no CNN, and no MSNBC.  I would actually turn to MSNBC, knowing full well that within minutes I would want to throw something at the screen.   Like I said, I was addicted.  Here’s another thing, no more talk radio in the car.  Doesn’t matter if it’s sports or news.  I came to the conclusions that on too many occasions I would arrive at work with a less than pleasant disposition.  Why?  Because I invited mindless babbling into my car, which more often than not would just piss me off.  So things had to change.  There’s no excuse for waltzing through life being willfully ignorant, but given that news is readily available everywhere, I decided that I would control when and where I received my news.  The first real sign that my new approach was working was when someone asked me, “what do you think about David Price signing with the Boston Red Sox, and not the Toronto Blue Jays?”  I was relieved that I didn’t even know it happened. Me, not knowing about something that happened in sports?  That was big!

Here’s what else I did, I replaced information with music.  I know that may sound schmaltzy, but it works.  Truth be told my car played a major role in my musical listening pleasures.  The car has a feature that when you push a button, and say play “artist and song”, it searches the net and finds the song.  It also creates a custom radio station for me.  For example, Rolling Stones Start Me Up radio station.  From there it searches for songs from the same genre.  If I don’t like the song it found, I press next.  The cool thing about this is that it’s taken me out of my 70’s and 80’s musical time machine.  I didn’t know there were so many new artists out there, well, at least new to me.   Bands like O.A.R., James Morrison (not the old guy who sings like he’s got a mouth full of marbles) and Augustana.  Really talented bands and I love the fact that our 14 year old is shocked that I know who they are. 

This may not work for everyone, but I find that I’m in a better mood more often because I’m listening to more music, and not mindless chatter.  I still get my fill of information, but in a much more condensed fashion. More importantly, I decide when I’m ready for the info download.  My new approach doesn’t change the facts, and what’s happening around me.  But it will no longer control me.  Based on what’s happening in the real world, and how the year is starting off, I got my music cranked.  I also customized a new radio station in my car, David Bowie Ashes to Ashes.  Seemed appropriate.

Until next time.

Cheers!

Yes, it’s the season to be nice or at least pretend you are. It’s a bit of a challenge getting into the spirit this year. Here I am in Toronto, Wednesday, December 23^rd and its plus 14° today. This reminds me of when I lived in Vancouver, no snow but plenty of rain. That makes some people sad because Christmas just doesn’t seem like Christmas for them without snow on the ground. Really? These same people get pissed, (damn, I just broke my promise above) when they have to drudge through slush and snow on the 26^th. The mind is such a terrible thing to waste. I can’t really even complain about the hustle and bustle of shopping this year. I think I purchased 95% of my gifts on-line, as did everyone else in our household.  You’re Welcome, FedEx.  One final note about our unusually warm weather this year, I love it! Last year we froze our buttocks (look at me adhering to my promise I made above) off. A mild Christmas, not having to put on twenty layers of clothing, shoveling the driveway, scraping the windshield or wiping snot on my coat sleeve, and David Suzuki and Al Gore going nuts. There really is a Santa.

All kidding aside, I hope you’re surrounded by family and friends this time of year. It doesn’t matter what you’re celebrating; Hanukkah, St. Lucia Day, Fiesta of Our Lady Guadalupe,

St. Nicholas Day, Eid al-Fitr, or of course, Christmas.  I hope you can have one day where you can forget about the world and enjoy a simple pleasure: spending time with your family.

Merry Christmas!  And we’ll chat again in the New Year.

Until next time,

Cheers.

The Toronto Blue Jays captured the imagination of sports fans not only in Toronto, but in the whole country. After 22 years of futility and being forced to endure watching other teams compete for championships, Blue Jays fans could actually dream of celebrating a championship and look forward to better days ahead. As all fans know, even the passing fans, the Toronto Blue Jays fell short of the ultimate goal – the World Series. Oh, but what a ride it was. For two and half months millions of viewers tuned into watch the Jays improbable run to the holy land. Rogers Communications, owners of the Toronto Blue Jays and TV network “Rogers Sportsnet”, garnered record numbers of viewers that in broadcast terms can be described as staggering. My word, I watched every game and was emotionally invested in the teams every play; this after swearing off the Toronto Blue Jays a decade ago. Back then I decided that if the owners of the team didn’t care, well, neither do I.  But I came back, as well as millions of other fans, only to realize it was a mirage.

The mirage refers to the bumbling and out of touch manner in which Rogers Communications have run this team. The search for a new president of the team was laughable. They were publicly humiliated when they first started the process, and they were so inept at it they were close to being charged with tampering. For a scant few months we all believed that those days may be behind us. But alas, that is not the case. The architect of this magnificent turnaround, and a Canadian to boot, was offered a new contract with diminished responsibility. It’s like saying, “thanks for making the team relevant again, and for making us millions; as a way of saying thanks were offering you a new contract which will make you a high profile assistant for the new guy”. To Alex’s credit, he said thanks but no thanks.

Alex Anthopoulos is betting on himself that he will land another job, with greater say and control over baseball operations. His resume suggests that job offers will be plentiful. It doesn’t hurt that on the very same day he announced that he cannot accept the demotion, Sporting News named him executive of the year. This gets more laughable by the minute. Alex Anthopoulos is not the greatest general manager of all time; but what he is, is man of courage and conviction. It takes guts to stand in the batter box and face a pitcher throwing 98 miles an hour, sometimes just under your chin. Anthopoulos proved he is equally as courageous, albeit not in a batter box, but rather in a boardroom.

Until next time,

Cheers.

Toronto’s baseball team, Toronto Blue Jays, secured first place in their division this week, thus ensuring a spot in this year’s playoffs. It has been 22 years since the Blue Jays were in the playoffs. I still remember what it was like back then. Back then the Jays were perennial playoff contenders. They were built to win, and to be competitive going forward. God, that was so long ago. When I think about what has happened in my life in the last 22 years, it seems like a lifetime ago. A funny thing happens to fans, especially as they get older; priorities change and blind faith becomes very blurred. I definitely fall into that category. I stopped following the Blue Jays closely about a decade ago. My rationale was simple, if the team doesn’t care, neither do I. A company like Rogers, owners of the Toronto Blue Jays, has every right to put P&L (Profit and Loss) over wins and losses on the field. As a sports fan I don’t care what the numbers say on a financial statement; I only care about what the numbers say in the standings. Toronto is the fourth largest market, and the Blue Jays owners are believed to be the wealthiest in all of baseball. If those variables cannot produce a competitive team and the willingness to invest in winning, then my disposable dollars will go elsewhere.

Well now my dollars and support of the Toronto Blue Jays have returned. The Blue Jays have captivated Toronto sports fans, as well as fans across the country. It was on July 28th of this year that sports fans in Toronto started to take note of what the Blue Jays were doing. It was then that their roster started to go through a significant turnover. It was then that they started to win. It was then that they started to play like a team. It was then that the players put team results over individual statistics. It was then that the game became fun and entertaining again. Beyond the team’s success on the field, I’m amazed at the support the team has received while playing away from home. At every away game, TV cameras will pan in on fans wearing Blue Jays jerseys in the stands. I remember watching a game from Seattle, there was a sea of Toronto Blue Jays jerseys in the stands and the fans were loud; you could actually hear them chanting, “Let’s go Blue Jays” during the broadcast; it was like watching a home game. I will say this about Jays fans – they travel well.

Throughout this incredible stretch of games for the Blue Jays, there is one individual’s performance that stands out the most for me. It’s the performance of their Sr. VP and General Manager, Alex Anthopolus. His performance over the last 12 months is a lesson in leadership. At the end of last year he determined that the chemistry in the clubhouse had to change. He determined that were too many players on the team who put individual results over team wins. He determined that there was not enough players on the team who were true professionals, meaning they were not committed to prepare themselves both mentally and physically to their craft. So he acted; he removed the malcontents and the players who were not committed to winning. He made these moves knowing that if he didn’t win this year, or at least make the playoffs, his future employment with the team would be tenuous. On July of this year he took further stock of his team, and came to the conclusion that his team was still not good enough. So he went to work and turned the roster over by 20%, which is unheard of in the middle of a season. He rolled the dice and was prepared to put his job on the line; plain and simple – that took courage. Now his courage is going to be rewarded. His team is in the playoffs, and his employment contract expires at season’s end. In other words, he’s a free agent at the end of this season, and he can explore other job opportunities. Timing is everything.

I would never characterize myself as a “bandwagon” fan, meaning my support is simply based on wins. Over the years I have spent a lot of money on sports teams in Toronto, and on too many occasions I left the arena or field of play  thinking “I did not get my money’s worth”. So now I pick my sports, that’s code for getting my money. I will now only separate myself from my cash if I’m assured that a sports team will entertain me. They have to play the game right, the team has to be committed to winning and being competitive, and they don’t make me regret my investment of time and money on them. I don’t think those unreasonable standards.

Go Jays Go!

Until next time,

Cheers.

Until next time…

Of course I’m kidding. There’s plenty going on, be it the housing and mortgage market, the overall economy, or political campaigns. Plenty to opine about, but since this is my first blog post in a while I thought I would touch on something personal. Last week Dan Putnam, CAAMP Chairman (Canadian Association of Accredited Mortgage Professionals), notified me that I was going to be inducted this year into the CAAMP Mortgage Hall of Fame. My first reaction when hearing the news was, “I don’t know what to say”. Rarely am I at a loss for words, but in my defense it’s not something you ever plan on hearing. No one can map this out and say, “one day I’m going into the Hall of Fame”. It happened because a number people got together, built a case on my behalf, and worked to make it
happen. You can’t lead an initiative like this yourself. I mean, you could, but it would be really bad form. The fact that my industry colleagues would take the time do this, for me, is beyond flattering.

Over the next month or so I will have to work on my induction speech. How does one properly acknowledge, in three to five minutes, all those who gave me a hand up over the last 28 years? All those who took a risk on someone with the hope that the finished product would far surpass what stood in front them. Those who invested, not only in the entity I was working for at that time, but in me? How do I thank family and friends who put up with my absence over the years, and at times, mood swings?  How do I thank all those employees who made me look good? Especially those who said, “lead the way, and I will follow”. The truth of the matter is it is impossible for me to adequately thank all those who deserve it. I could produce a long list of names, but it would not do them justice. For each name has a wonderful story. For all those who helped, guided, or simply provided emotional support for me throughout my career, my mission is now to thank you all personally.

I am truly humbled by this acknowledgment, and will be forever grateful to those who worked to make this happen.

Until next time,

Cheers.

Mortgages and Real Estate are not all things evil; especially when you’re trying to get re-elected. There’s an election around the corner in Canada, and it’s time for promises from all the candidates (most of which will never be kept). One of the first promises made on the campaign trail by Steven Harper, Canada’s Prime Minister, was to allow first time homebuyers to draw up to $35,000 from the RRSP for a down payment, up from $25,000. Why? “For most Canadians, the family home is their biggest asset and their most significant investment in their future financial security. It’s also the center of their lives,” said Harper. Gosh darn it, why didn’t we think of that? What a great argument make. But who has the time to make that argument? Given that we’re all dealing the weight of new regulations, making it more difficult for Canadians to be able to qualify for a mortgage. However, like every info-commercial, “wait, there’s more” – a home renovation tax credit is in the works. According to the PM, the tax credit which was previously eliminated, will find its way back; tailored to home owners who embark on substantial renovations, between $1,000 and $5,000. That’s not a misprint. I just learned that you can do a substantial renovation for that dollar amount. Hmmm, I think I’m going to put a sky light in my shed.

What else have I learned?  Oh yeah, something very important. I learned that Eddie Van Halen should get on his knees and beg former lead singer, Sammy Hagar, to come back and join the band again. I went to the Van Halen concert in Toronto a couple of weeks ago and their original lead singer, David Lee Roth, appeared to be a little confused. Not sure if its dementia, but I thought a lead singer should, you know, sing – and not talk throughout the entire song. Then again, what do I know? I’m not an aging rock star whose shelf life has long since expired. Maybe twirling a microphone stand on stage is all you need to get by. If that’s the case, you did well Diamond Dave. I will say this, Eddie Van Halen on the guitar and back-up vocals was outstanding. It’s a shame he was drowned out by incessant mumbling.

Finally, I’m learning that getting older, well, sucks! Just turned 55 last week, and when people ask me how old I am I say 42, American. My age is based on currency exchange, unless of course it’s at par. When, and if, that ever happens again I’ll figure something out. But a real sign that I’m getting older is the number one criteria I’m looking for in a new car. I’m looking for a vehicle that won’t make me grunt or make noises when I’m getting in and out of it. Don’t care about performance. I just want to ensure that I don’t have to say, “help me, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up”.

I suspect I’m going to learn some more “stuff” over the next couple of weeks. Off on a family cruise next week, a small group – 15 people. It will either be a blast or result in a few less people around the Christmas table in December. Of course I say that in jest. I’m really looking forward to the trip because it’s one those things that may never happen again. You can lose it all, but the memories are forever.

Unless something really interesting or hilarious happens on the trip, I’ll talk to you in September.

Until next time,

Cheers.