2014

What we can learn from Nelson Mandela about solitude

(The Hamilton Spectator – Saturday, February 1, 2014)

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

— From the poem Invictus

KAMPALA, UGANDA ✦ Much has been made about the tremendous story from Africa that ended 2013, that of Nelson Mandela and the worldwide send-off he was given, and rightly so.

Mandela will be remembered as the embodiment of William Ernest Henley’s poem, Invictus, that 19th-century verse describing a man who, as Henley put it, fell in the clutch of circumstance, who knew the bludgeonings of chance and bloody head, who found wrath and tears and horror, but through it all was unafraid and, in the end, “captain of his soul.”

Well over a month after Mandela’s death, his name is still easily spoken across Africa.

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In sickness and health, for richer or poorer

Monday afternoon Work. Eat lunch. Salad. From a Kampala restaurant. Seemed okay. At school, sit down for rest on stairs while getting kids. Nausea. Liz, do you still have some TP in the car? Drive home. Call Babe. Babe, I’ve been hit by something. Can’t get any milk, I say. Stop at gas station. No energy.

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Captain Underpants and three pretty ladies

Me: “Good morning Captain Underpants!” Kid 1: “Morning Dad.” Kiss. ++ Me: “Hey Little Lady!” Kid 2: “Hi Dad.” Neck snuggle. ++ Me: “Good morning Pretty Girl!” Kid 3: “Uhhh.” Kiss (attempt). ++ Me: “Babe, you’re such a better surgeon that I am. Any way you could fix my watch band with some Crazy Glue?”

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Anaphylactic horror stories, responsibility, and little Elodie Glover

So the kids’ school, an international school in Kampala, has after-school clubs. They’re very handy to give Mom or Dad a bit of extra time to finish one chore or another before kid pick-up and that 45-minute drive home through the (ugh) Kampala traffic. Yes, the clubs are life-savers. Not. Take the baking club. My

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So we’re at the dinner table talking about hell

I don’t know how we get on these enlightening talks at the dinner table, but the other day we – the kids and Mom and I – got onto hell. Yes, hell, home of Satan. You know, Satan, the entity who prowls around the earth looking to wreak one sort of havoc or another. (Not

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The hills are alive with the sound of mystery

So over the weekend Hannah and I did a little dance because Hannah wanted to dance in her new birthday bathrobe, this during an intermission of The Sound of Music, the first time all five of us sat down to watch it together. Maybe Hannah danced too because we’re still basking in the glow, that

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Forgiveness

We were in the car and Liz was looking rather thoughtful, the sort of look that kids have when you know they have something important on their minds, and she finally looked at me and said, “What if you and Mommy had a big fight. What would happen?” “We’d forgive each other,” I said. “Okay,”

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