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,

From my perspective I can’t think of anything more contemptuous of fan base than a league which has a salary cap. The unintended consequences of a salary cap are being felt by many professionals sport leagues, of which the NHL (National Hockey League) is one. The NHL just finished its regular season, and not one team in Canada will compete for hockey’s Holy Grail, the Stanley Cup. However, at least three of the seven Canadian teams probably could have qualified if they were free to spend at will. Based on published reports I have come across, Vancouver, Montreal, and Toronto have the financial wherewithal to buy talent. Yet the current NHL collective barging agreement precludes them for doing so. In essence the CBA was negotiated to ensure parity amongst all the teams, and to ensure that all franchises would be profitable. So if you’re a fan of the Canucks, Canadians, or Maple Leafs you should be willing set aside your passion and allegiance to your team for a higher and nobler aspiration. Like the profitability of team playing hockey in the Arizona desert or the Lone Star State. How sporting is it that for your team to get better, and maybe one day challenge for the Stanley Cup, you first have to gut your team, and try to lose. Today it’s about shedding player contracts and drafting kids, that’s code for cheap labour. Today teams are built to lose, and then wish upon a star that one day they will come out stronger on the other side. Of course there’s no guarantee that “tanking” works. Just ask the poor fans of the Edmonton Oilers. The NHL is not alone in this. Have a look at the Philadelphia 76′s of the NBA, (National Basketball Association). Their record this year is 10 wins, against 70 loses, as of writing this post. Last year their record was 18 wins versus 64 loses. A record this poor has to be intentional, because there’s no other explanation for this level of ineptitude. Frankly, the WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment) has more integrity than many of the Main Street sports leagues. The WWE at least is open and admits that the results are predetermined. 

My passion for hockey has waned over the years. That has a lot do with the fact that my childhood idols, the Toronto Maple Leafs, have been abysmal for decades. When I do pay attention I’m floored by the fact that fans of the Leafs want their team to lose, all in the hopes of getting a higher draft choice. It’s today’s sporting reality, I get why Leaf fans park themselves in front of their TV, and cheer for the opposition. As bizarre as it sounds, losing gives them hope. What does it do for me? It forces me too look elsewhere, and see where else I can spend my disposal dollars.

Me thinks that when Rogers paid over $5 billion to the NHL for the TV rights, they never anticipated that not one team in Canada would qualify for the Stanley Cup Playoffs. It doesn’t take a media expert to predict that there will be fewer eyeballs in this country directed towards their TVs to watch the NHL playoffs this year. As the old saying goes, you reap what you sow.

On a positive note, I came across a video over the weekend about hockey, and more specifically, the Toronto Maple Leafs. It’s set to the music of Ron Hawkins, “Peace and Quiet”. The imagery was created by videographer Tim Thompson. I was taken aback by the video for two reasons. It’s a moving video, which brought back a flood of memories for me. Like when I was 8 or 9 years old, doing what I always did after school, playing ball hockey with my friends. My mom called me in and I recall being less than pleased about my game being interrupted. When I walked through the front door she handed me an envelope, and said this came for you.  I remember seeing the return address on the left hand corner of the envelope, Maple Leaf Gardens. My hands shook as I opened the envelope, and there inside was a picture of my childhood hero, Toronto Maple Leaf Captain, Dave Keon. On the picture he wrote, “To Boris, my number 1 fan”.  Never in my wildest dreams did I think he would respond to the letter I wrote to him. I don’t know where that picture is today, but it really doesn’t matter. It’s the memory that does, as in 48 years ago. I also had to acknowledge that it took courage for the Maple Leafs to actually play the video at the Air Canada Centre before Leaf games. The beauty of the video is that it celebrates triumphs, and the dark moments. My relationship with the Toronto Maple Leafs is one of love, hate, laughter, disbelief and now indifference. But after watching the video, maybe, just maybe, reconciliation is possible.

Until next time,

Cheers.

For those who have not heard of Uber, they’re a technology company that connects people who have cars, with people who need a ride; sounds a lot like the taxi industry – but not in Uber’s eyes. That’s the essence of what makes Uber a disturber. You look like a duck, you walk like a duck, and you quack like a duck, so you must be, well, not a duck according to Uber; just a technology company. Many jurisdictions have tried to regulate Uber out of their markets, and in some cases Uber has been told to cease and desist, but Uber has demonstrated that they will scratch and claw to protect their turf. A lost battle for Uber in the courtroom is a setback, not a final resolution. You know what it means to have a company worth $51billion? It means you can employ a lot of lawyers.

Full disclosure, I’ve been using Uber for about a year. I love the service, and I’ve never had any issues. I have no dog in this fight, meaning I have no financial interest in Uber’s success. Maybe I should.  The reason I continued using Uber was that I enjoyed being driven in a clean car. I like the fact that the driver is not on the phone while driving. I like the fact that the sounds of screeching brakes don’t puncture my ear drums. I like their technology and the ease of it. I like being able to jump out of the car when I arrive at the destination and not fumble around for my wallet. Reason being is that my credit card is automatically charged, including gratuity. I like the fact that driver never says to me, “do you have to pay with a credit card, don’t you have cash?” Über provided an alternative, and took advantage of an industry which believed that government would continue to regulate competition away.  Oops!

Uber has lost its share of court battles, but they always come back. The opposing parties will cloak themselves in their pious arguments when before the courts, be it legal or public opinion. For the taxi industry, it’s about passenger safety blah, blah blah. For Uber, ride sharing is good for the environment blah, blah, blah. One side wants some and the other is not willing to share. If I was betting man I would put a few quid on Uber prevailing. The taxi industry, along with many other industries, are going to have to come to grips with the fact that they will not able to put their hands on a computer screen and push the internet back in.

Until next time,

Cheers.

In fairness, a state dinner at the White House is not a common occurrence for Canadian PM’s. If I’m not mistaken the last time the head of state from Canada was the guest of honour at the White House was in 1997. President Clinton warmly welcomed Prime Minster Chretien for an evening of Pomp and Circumstance. Let’s see, Clinton and Obama, Democrats; Trudeau and Chretien, Liberals. I find it deliciously ironic that the intelligentsia always campaigns on helping the impoverished, working for the middle class, saving mother earth, but would never dare using photos of a state dinners when campaigning to the masses. That would be too difficult to square. The all-knowing and chosen ones are best fit to suspend reality. There’s no point trying to square the lavishness because it is too complex for simpletons to understand.  It’s something that’s always done, and that should be enough. Oh wait, Prime Minister Harper never had a state dinner in his honour. I’m sure it was simple oversight and had nothing to do with political ideology.

The poor Conservative and NDP party, all they can do is grit their teeth and watch with envy. What’s their argument, Trudeau shouldn’t attend? Irrespective of which party in Canada is in power, the RSVP would never go back, “sorry, I’m indisposed”. Everybody would go if they were invited. I would!  But like our former Prime Minster, Steven Harper, I never received an invite. No worries Steven, (in my mind I think he reads my blogs) you can come to my place to watch the Stanley Cup play-offs. We’ll watch the game, have a couple beers, and laugh about Justin’s father using the White House swimming pool when he was the honoured guest in the late 60’s. The elder Trudeau is the only Head of State to use the swimming pool at the White House. We should all burst with pride. The then sitting president, Richard Nixon, AKA, tricky dicky, couldn’t stomach Justin’s father. I suspect the elder Trudeau was well aware of that, and to make Nixon nuts he had a pool party. 

The timing of the visit is not a coincidence. Ideological cousins look out for each other, and help when they can. It’s one thing to be photographed while looking at panda bears at a zoo; it’s altogether different having your photo taken while hobnobbing with the leader of the free world. A high profile soiree in your honour gives you political street cred; something which may be needed when trying to sell the soon to be federal budget.

Until next time,

Cheers.

Never, in my wildest dreams did I think that Trump had a chance.  I firmly believed that this was nothing more than a publicity stunt for him, and that Republican Party would do whatever was necessary to put a stop to him. Well, it hasn’t worked out that way. Donald Trump now believes he can become the president of the United States of America, and why wouldn’t he? His candidacy has now become a movement.  The more outrageous his claims become, the more his popularity grows. The more he changes his positions, on a daily basis, the more people lineup up to hear him speak. The angrier he becomes, the more American’s say “he’s our guy”. His road to the White House still has many miles to go. The American political system is a little convoluted. It’s not about the number states he wins, but rather the number of delegates he receives in each state. In many States the delegates are distributed by the proportion of votes the candidate received in the primary election. In other words, if you finish in second, you still win delegates.   To become the republican nominee, Trump would require 1,237 delegates. As of today he has 329 delegates.  So, it would be a little premature of him to start working on his inauguration speech. This may not be resolved until the Republican Conventions takes place. A deal may have to be brokered at the convention, and that would be one hell of a closing act. 

I must admit that the indignation, shock, and dismay that Canadians are exhibiting over the possibility of Trump becoming president is a tad self-aggrandizing. As we’ve demonstrated in the past we do not necessarily elect the most worthy of candidates. I really miss Rob Ford. The problem with politics today is that too many voters look at style rather than substance. Unfortunately, that’s what wins elections. It’s how a community organizer became a president and a former supply school teacher a prime minister. It’s no longer about the resume but rather ones oratory skills. What’s unfolding before us may be a new low in American politics, but as Canadians maybe we should dial back the holier than thou rhetoric. We don’t have the market corned on electing the best and brightest.

I don’t have a dog in this race so it matters little to me who wins the presidency. The current president has treated Canada like an afterthought for the last 7 years, and somehow we still managed to survive. If the new president does the same, and even builds a wall on our border, we’ll do what we always do, carry on. But if I did have vote mine would go to Ted Cruz. It has nothing with his policies. I would vote for him because I’m a patriot. I would love to see a Canadian occupy the Oval Office.

Until next time,

Cheers.

God bless the millions, and millions of people who say to themselves, every day, “the four horsemen of the apocalypse may be on the way, but I have bigger things to worry about”.  GDP growth forecasts being lowered, what do you think about that? Interesting, but I got to get Precious to daycare on time.  Price of oil crashes?  My fuel consumption costs just went down because I have to take the kids to hockey, indoor soccer, jazz lessons, piano lessons, Chucky Cheese, to see grandma and grandpa, acting lessons (strictly for my child because he/she is special) and all this by Wednesday of every week.  Stock market takes a beating in 2016? Yeah, that’s bad but I don’t have time to think about it because I have to meet my @&$/?/€ contractor at the house we’re renovating because if I don’t he’ll leave and go to another job because he’s so busy.  Delinquency rates trending upwards?  Not sure what that means to me, but did you hear that Celine Dion just sold house outside of Montreal for $25 million? 

After all these years I’ve come to learn that what gets in the way of a good doom and gloom story is…life.  The ability to suspend reality is truly a gift.  I’m reminded of what a famous philosopher once said, “Facts are meaningless. You could use facts to prove anything that’s even remotely true!”  Homer  Simpson.

Until next time,

Cheers.

Many Albertans still seethe at the mere mention of Pierre Elliot Trudeau. They think back to the early 80′s, and Trudeau’s National Energy Program, which laid waste to a good portion of Alberta. When you combine the words Alberta and Trudeau, you expect some form of combustion. It’s for that reason I was intrigued to see how our newly crowned Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau, would do when visiting the beleaguered province. I suspect it must be a tough pill for Alberta to swallow, asking a Trudeau for help. But ask they should, and must.

I’ll say this about Jr.; he comes across as having far more empathy than his father ever did. That being said, his father was a man of depth; an intellectual, with an extraordinary wit and a sense of timing. He was the smartest guy in the room, and if you needed convincing, he relished the opportunity to prove it. What Alberta doesn’t need right now is a visit from an eastern elitist with an all knowing attitude. I think what they need is to hear some honesty, and to let them know their government won’t make things worse.

For all intents and purposes, the prime minister said all the right things when visiting Alberta. Frankly, there’s not much that neither he nor Ottawa can do at this time. It’s not like they can snap their fingers and set a new price for oil. Saying Ottawa is there to support Alberta is nice, but it can’t be just talk. There is something that could be done right now. Adjust EI eligibility in Alberta for those needing assistance right now. No need to wait until March, when the new budget comes down to announce eligibility changes. People need assistance, now.

There’s a bumpy road ahead for Albertans. It’s bound to create more angst, concern and fear in the near term. The ripple effect from Alberta will spread across the county. I hope our leaders take a pragmatic approach to the issues and challenges at hand. Investing time and financial resources to saving Mother Earth is a noble aspiration, but not at the expense of those you took an oath to serve. 

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.

There’s nothing funny about terrorism, and the ridicule, contempt and derision these mass murderers receive is justly deserved. Now they’ve earned the right to be mocked as well. The absurdity of the article should help all of us put things into perspective. Yes, our economy is sluggish. Yes, the price of oil is causing angst in Alberta. Yes, our dollar has fallen. Yes, our exports have not benefited from a devalued Loonie. But none of these challenges will defeat us. It’s not the first time since confederation that we’ve faced uncertain economic times.  So maybe we should stop acting like it is. Furthermore, no one should question Alberta’s resolve. This is not their first rodeo. Albertans have been there before, and history has taught us they always come out stronger on the other side. It’s what all Canadians do. We thrive I spite of the circumstances.  Could things be better economically? Of course. Could they be worse? You bet. Like having a drone missile aimed at us, with the sole purposes of getting us to the hereafter, a lot quicker, while being forced to take a pay cut.

Until next time,

Cheers.