Consider this, from a Wall Street Journal article from a few years back:

The male reluctance to shed tears is relatively new”, says Tom Lutz, a University of California, Riverside professor. He traces this to the late 19th century, when factory workers—mostly men—were discouraged from indulging in emotion lest it interfere with their productivity.

Iconic historical and cultural depictions of men crying—in the Bible, Jesus wept at the death of Lazarus, for instance—have been overcome by more recent dictates discouraging men from crying. Biologically, and in the context of centuries and millennia, “male tears are the norm and males not crying is recent historical aberration,” he says.

As a man who has rediscovered crying in recent years after a hell of a lot of stuffing it, I found this article compelling. Although it’s probably the case that socialization at school and other places put it into my head that crying isn’t okay for men, the day that solidified it for me was my grandfather’s funeral.

I was 13 years old. As one of the pallbearers, I stood at the end of the line, watching the casket coming out of the hearse. Suddenly, I felt weak in my legs and turned away, just at the time when I should have been reaching up. My uncle screamed something nasty at me, jolting me back into place, to do my “job.” I think I didn’t forgive him for years for that.

Later that day, my grandmother came around and told all of us “Don’t cry. You’re grandfather wouldn’t want you to cry.” She was trying to support us, but this is often how grandma’s support has been – kind of off. Anyway, her words that day, as well as my uncle’s, stuck with me, leading the charge of all the other comments and views I’d heard saying that men don’t cry, that we best be “tough,” no matter what.

That’s my micro-level story. The quote above, though, points to the fairly recent cultural origins of the suppression of male tears and grief. That it’s directly tied to the rise of industrialized capitalism. Why might this be? Well, as I see it, the worst aspects of capitalism require humans to turn into machines. Cut off from our bodies. Cut off from our emotional worlds. Cut off, often, from the needs of the very Earth we live on, and are made of.

Sometimes it’s blunt, like forcing people to suppress emotional experiences around their work. Other times, it’s more subtle, like making people work a certain block of time every day, regardless of what their body rhythms are, how healthy they are, or what other needs they might have.

Given that the industrial workplace was designed by men for other men, it’s not a surprise that men tend to struggle with issues of workplace produced grief and loss. A guy gets fired, and he comes back with weapons to threaten or kill those who fired him. A co-worker is hurt or killed in a workplace accident that could have easily been prevented, and his male friends bond around alcohol or drug use. The over calculating, uber-rational boss doesn’t know when to quit in the quest for profits, so his heart quits for him before he’s even 60 years old. Even though the modern workplace has softened some in recent decades, all these examples or similar ones with less dramatic outcomes are still far too common.

Of course, things are usually more complex than a simple A produced B outcome. However, I know in my own case that I’m much less prone these days to the kind of anger that can spiral into out of control violence. And it seems directly related to handling grief better, including allowing myself to cry.

It seems promising that one of the beacons of capitalism, the Wall Street Journal, published an article like this. Not that I think it will suddenly help make a cultural shift around men and crying, but perhaps it will give some of those high powered business dudes who love to read the WSJ permission to let go. Every little bit helps.

Photo Credit:

Christ aux liens Vesoul by Remi Mathis via Wikimedia Commons.

Clooney’s movie begins in 1943 and ends during May 1945 as the Second World War in Europe draws to a close. But the story of The Monuments Men who worked for the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives (MFA&A) section of the Western Allies (America, Britain, Canada) doesn’t end there, it continues until 1951. It’s the post war period from 1945 to 1950 that Professor Heinrich, as I came to know him, worked with MFA&A.

I first met Professor Heinrich in the mid-1970s as an undergraduate student at Toronto’s York University. A well-spoken, dapper individual of the highest intellect, he was an engaging professor. He was passionate about preserving and promoting humanity’s cultural treasures.

Professor Heinrich taught a museology class (the study of museums) which captivated me as I had an interest in history and archaeology. Almost immediately we got along extremely well so I was given the honour of a private viewing of his incredible collection of European documents, drawings and books, some going back to the 1500s.

Taking time out after class one afternoon I rendezvoused with Professor Heinrich at his office. Our conversation drifted from museology to a reminiscence of his life. He told me that his family had wealth and that he had grown up in California where he attended university. What struck me was how restless he was in his youth. His desire to travel was overwhelming so he struck off to Europe travelling around the continent relishing in its rich cultural inheritance of art and architecture.  

As the afternoon continued on he began talking about his years in England at Cambridge University, which he entered during the early 1930s and where he earned his master’s degree in architectural history. He spoke of his years at Cambridge fondly and he told me that during the Second World War he had worked on General Dwight Eisenhower’s staff. This took me by surprise; I’d never met anyone who had worked at such a high level during the Second World War. Growing up immediately after the war all of my friends had father’s who had served as soldiers, just as my own father had, but all at the lower rungs of military hierarchy.  

I listened intently as he told me how he’d worked in the intelligence branch at Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force (SHAEF) in England. The section Professor Heinrich was assigned to gathered intelligence on railway systems in Germany, Belgium, Holland and France which were used by the German armed forces. This was incredibly important work since it provided the Canadian, British and American air forces with the railroad targets to bomb which effectively destroyed the rail network needed to support the German war effort.

The NAZIS hid stolen art in over 1,000 locations across Germany and Austria so as the first wave of Monuments Men were returning home during mid-1945, a new group came onto the scene. It would take years to find several million pieces of stolen artwork and other historic artefacts of cultural value. With his background in art history it made sense to transfer Professor Heinrich to MFA&A at war’s end.

He went on to tell me that he was posted to Wiesbaden, Germany which became the MFA&A collection point for German-owned art. It was in Wiesbaden where he and other Monuments Men identified and returned German art to the institutions and private individuals who originally owned them. By 1947 he became the director of the Wiesbaden collection center.

I sat there in silent amazement as Professor Heinrich talked about rebuilding German museums and in the process recovering works by Renoir, da Vinci and other great masters. Not your typical academic. Of the 30 professors I had while attending  university, both at York and later at the University of Toronto, he was one of the few who had made a lasting impression.

In 1981, while working on an archaeological dig in Kingston,Ontario,  I called Professor Heinrich at his home in Toronto. He hadn’t immediately  recognized my voice, which I thought was rather odd as we had always enjoyed many conversations over the years. Moments later a woman came on the line to tell me that Theodore was gravely ill. He passed away  a short time later.

Photo Credits

Photo 1. Theodore Heinrich, shown in his U.S. Army uniform about 1945, was an art expert and real life Monuments Man
who ended up teaching at the University of Regina in 1964-65. (University of Regina archives)

Photo 2. Theodore Heinrich, in light-coloured civilian dress, is shown receiving art at a depository for recovered lost or stolen art
run by the U.S. Army. The photo was taken around 1949 in Wiesbaden, Germany. (University of Regina archives)

Photo 3. Heinrich (right) and an unidentified colleague examine what in 1949 was believed to be one of the most valuable paintings
in the world, Rembrandt’s Man With A Golden Helmet. It was hidden in a salt mine before being recovered by the Americans.
In 1985, it was reclassified as painting done by a student of Rembrandt’s. (University of Regina archives)

Photo 4. Title page from a catalogue owned by Heinrich of looted Jewish art objects:
Unidentifiable Loot from Jewish Synagogues Collected at the Offenbach Archival Depot. (Sean Prpick/CBC)

Far to the north, in the land of Blackstock, lives Father Goose. He dwells in a quaint underground house in the side of a hill at the edge of a deep dark forest full of wild creatures. The wood is forbidden to most men.

Father Goose passes his days flying with his feathery friends: the whooping cranes, the geese and other assorted birds who grew up in his house and think of him as their “mom”. In the fall, when the desire to return to their southerly winter homes prevails he takes wing and shows them the way.

Front door of "Father Goose's" eco-friendly underground home.

While it may sound like the start of a fanciful fairytale, in fact Father Goose is real and his name is a Bill Lishman. Residing in the town of Blackstock, Ontario about two hours north of Toronto, his super-energy efficient home consists of buried stainless steel domes and his property is perched on the edge of the Osler estatte. The estate, which belongs to the descendants of famed Canadian physician, Sir William Osler, comprises 250 hectares of land where an active wildlife population thrives. The estate is forbidden to hunters and developers, though Bill is quite welcome to fly his ultralight aircraft overhead.

Bill Lishman and George Burden in front of one of Bill's ultralights.

This all may be sounding a bit familiar to those who recall the Hollywood movie , tFly Away Home that recounts Bill’s adventures leading a flock of geese south to Virginia with his ultralight aircraft. The movie itself was based on Bill’s book Father Goose. In 1999, Operation Migration began its yearly program of leading baby whooping cranes to reestablish populations in parts of the United States where they are now extinct.

The program is possible due to the principle of imprinting, which causes baby birds to think whatever they see at the beginning of their lives is their mother. While this is in most cases a momma bird, the babies don’t care if their momma happens to be an ultralight plane and its pilot!

Bill is also a talented artist as witnessed by the sometimes whimsical and sometimes dramatic colourful metal sculptures dotting the grounds of his home. He also keeps active, promoting Air First Aid, his program designed to use ultralights to provide medical and food aid to disaster areas in a precise and focused way by ferrying in dozens of specially equipped ultralights in cargo planes along with aid supplies.

With my friends Joe, Diane and Amanda, I had the pleasure of enjoying Bill’s hospitality for an afternoon. His underground dwelling remained delightfully cool despite the hot Ontario summer day and reminded me of a cross between a hobbit’s house and Luke Skywalker’s childhood home.

Author George Burden in front of Bill Lishman's home.

We sipped homemade white wine while he regaled us with stories of his adventures and he autographed a copy of his book for my daughter. So you see that I have written proof that Father Goose actually exist and can fimly state that is alive and well and living in Canada.

Visit William Lishman’s Web Site

Photo Credits

All Photos © Amanda Sutherland. All Rights Reserved.

Perched on the side of a hill in the southern Forest Hill area of Toronto is Casa Loma, perhaps the most ambitious personal residence ever constructed by a Canadian. A monument to the romantic nature of prominent Toronto financier, industrialist and military commander Sir Henry Mill Pellatt, this medieval-inspired castle was designed by noted architect E.J. Lennox and incorporating an eclectic array of different styles, antiquities and modern amenities.

Casa Loma is a Canadian landmark.

Begun in 1911, the initial structure was expected to cost about $250,000, a then princely sum for a personal residence. By the time of its completion, this cost was to multiply 15-fold — the finished cost was about 3.5 million dollars.

Sir Henry had made a considerable fortune through a variety of enterprises, including stock brokerage, insurance, mining and other ventures but he was to live in his fabulous home for only ten years before being forced to leave his residence for financial reasons.   

Stained glass dome in Casa Loma's conservatory.

While the cost of the estate had outstripped Sir Henry’s resources, he was not entirely to blame for this.  A man of great ingenuity and foresight he had anticipated the potential for Niagara Falls to generate huge amounts of electricity for Canadians. After spending a fortune overcoming the challenges of creating this facility, his project was expropriated without compensation by the government of Ontario.  

Modern day visitors to Casa Loma should be sure to take in the 22 minute docu-drama recounting Sir Henry’s life, which is shown in the opulent billiard/smoking Rooms (no smoking allowed!).   

Afterward, a cell phone-like auto-guide which will give you a rundown on each section of the estate.  Casa Loma’s great hall resembles its medieval namesake, except perhaps for the elaborate pipe organ installed in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. Banners hang from the ceiling and you can get an even better overview of the room by ascending a grand staircase and enjoying the view from the second floor.  

Room intended for Royals in Casa Loma, it was destined never to be used.

Before going upstairs, check out one of Sir Henry’s favorite rooms: the conservatory at the opposite end of the first floor from the great hall. This light, airy room incorporates many plants, a breathtaking stained glass dome and polished marble floor. A fountain tinkles at the far end of the room giving an outdoor, garden ambiance to the chamber.  Also be sure to check out the huge library, the Oak Room and Sir Henry’s study on this level.

Upstairs, we venture into the more intimate rooms of the estate, getting a chance to see Sir Henry’s very masculine boudoir with its own cannon at the base of his canopied bed. Lady Pellatt’s corner suite is larger and significantly more opulent than her husband’s as perhaps would suit the gallantry of a true Victorian gentleman.  The second floor also incorporates numerous guest bedrooms including the Windsor Room, which Sir Henry hoped would at some point be occupied by British Royalty.  Alas, this was never to be.

A climb to the top of the castle’s tower proved to be a minor adventure amply rewarded by incredible views of the Toronto skyline, views that would probably have astounded Sir Henry.  

Casa Loma is a favorite spot for moviemakers.  Hollywood flicks such as Cocktail, Chicago and The Tuxedo have used its opulent ambiance as background.

Venturing outside, the gardens of Casa Loma range from formal and reminiscent of a slice of Versailles, with dancing fountains and manicured shrubs to more naturalistic with tree-lined paths and herbaceous undergrowth.

Gargoyle in the garden.

I’ve been through the homes of many ‘great men’ in various parts of the world, some a couple of thousand years old!  While Sir Henry’s estate is as opulent as many of them, I don’t get the feeling that his primary goal was to impress others, which is not the case with many of these other showpieces.  

In fact if I could pose this question to Sir Henry Pellatt today, I suspect his answer would be something like this: “Casa Loma is a great place for my family to enjoy themselves and to entertain our friends.  And by golly, if you think it’s a pretty nice place we’re glad you visited us.  We like it too.”

If You Go…

Casa Loma
1 Austin Terrace
Toronto, Ontario  M5R 1X8
tel: 416-923-1171
www.casaloma.org

Toronto Tourism
www.seetorontonow.com

Photo Credits

Photo © Amanda Sutherland. All rights Reserved.

Gary Schneider sees himself as something of a matchmaker. “I try to get people to fall in love with their forests,” says the buoyant founder and manager of the Macphail Woods Ecological Forestry Project on 2000 acres of crown land east of Charlottetown, PEI.

Given his enthusiasm for his work – “I adore my job,” he gushes – and the many potent love potions at his fingertips, Schneider has good reason to believe he’ll succeed in fostering a love affair between the people of Prince Edward Island and their Acadian Forests.

A flyover of the Macphail Woods homestead and surrounding area.

Pausing to marvel at a patch of pink lady slipper orchids on a walk along the Wildflower Nature Trail or spotting a spunky nuthatch marching down a tree trunk along the Stream Trail where Sir Andrew Macphail himself once took daily dips is an irresistible proposal from nature to many visitors. (Raised on the property, Macphail was McGill University’s first professor of the History of Medicine and founded the Canadian Medical Association Journal. For his efforts as a doctor in World War I, he was knighted.) For others, it takes a visit from Gary Schneider himself. “People tell me I’ve gone for a walk in their woods with them, and it’s changed the way they looked at their forest. I love working one on one with landowners.”

But as the saying goes, one can’t live by love alone. The Macphail Woods Project employs a dozen or so seasonal workers, and they have to be paid. Grants from government and private foundations supplies some of the required funding, but the Project itself generates revenue.

Gary Schneider tries to get people to fall in love with forests.

Aside from offering guided tours of the five nature trails – add the Rhododendron Trail, the Woodland Trail and the Native Plant Garden Trail to the first two – Schneider and his colleagues deliver popular wildlife and forestry workshops. They run a nursery where they seed and sell native plant species that are also used for on-site forest restoration. They run summer nature camps for youth, and they’ve planted trees at about 20 schools in the area. At the old Macphail homestead, staff and volunteers operate a tearoom, host art displays and sell nature guidebooks, many written by Schneider himself.

Future plans include a portable sawmill and, ideally, a woodworking shop where staff can build furniture, crafts and other goods to sell. Schneider likes diversity from as well as in his forests. “I love cutting trees. I burn wood. I like to build wooden houses. I think wood is a great product. But if you look at all the benefits that a forest gives you, the wood is secondary.”

As with many love affairs, Schneider’s relationship with PEI seemed mismatched at first. Schneider is a journalist from St. Catherine’s, Ontario – the son of a bank manager, one of six children. As for agriculture-heavy PEI, it’s the last province one would associate with woods of any kind. Schneider himself admits, “For somebody interested in forests, this is probably the last place you think you’d wind up.”

Macphail Woods native plant nursery.

It took a mutual acquaintance to introduce Schneider to his adopted province. While working with a small newspaper in New Brunswick 34 years ago, Gary’s brother invited him to live on a piece of land he’d purchased on the Island. While living there, he got interested in birds and their habitat. “The more I learned about the native forests, the more I fell in love with them,” says Schneider.

Schneider’s goal is nothing less than the restoration of the province’s forests. Employed by the Environmental Coalition of Prince Edward Island, Schneider manages 26 distinct pieces of land – most of them attached to the original Macphail property – under a 10-year renewable lease with the province. For each, he’s developed a detailed management plan.

A stream runs through it — efforts to preserve PEI's forests are a labour of love for Gary Schneider.

In a press release from 2005, Jamie Ballem, Minister of Environment, Energy and Forestry at the time, said, “If this partnership is successful, the Province may enter into similar public land management agreements with other non-profit groups.” Given that the province is the largest landowner on the Island at more than 50,000 hectares, the impact of the Macphail project on PEI’s landscape could be profound.

Schneider describes the Acadian Forest as a “condition” more than an inventory of specific trees and shrubs. Because of varying conditions and a history of clear cutting and intensive forest use, no single location contains all 26 species native to PEI’s Acadian forests. But many do have the three most prominent conifers – red spruce, white pine and hemlock – and the three main deciduous trees – sugar maple, beech and yellow birch.

The original Macphail property was one dominated by scrubby woods and dotted with gravel pits. Sometimes working one tree at a time, Schneider nursed the place back to health by bringing in rotting wood, compost and even soil to the worst areas.

The Macphail woods now includes everything from ground covers and shrubs to canopy trees and trees that will eventually become giants. Insects, animals and birds have returned. Seedlings he planted fifteen years ago are now thriving. “I’ve got red oak over 20 feet high,” says a proud Schneider. “In a hundred years, it’s going to be incredible,” says Schneider. “But even in 20 or 25 years, it’ll be fantastic.”

For 19 years, Schneider’s infectious affection for Acadian forests has been spreading across the island and over the generations. “This is an agricultural province,” Schneider admits, but he also sees strong evidence of change. The days of farming marginal land are numbered. Buffer zone legislation protects streams. People with giant lawns are asking the Macphail project for help in transforming what Schneider calls their great five acre lawns into Acadian forest. “People are starting to think maybe we could all contribute.”

If he continues his matchmaking, Gary Schneider will one day find that an entire province is smitten with his own beloved forest.

For further information, visit www.macphailwoods.org

Photo Credits

Flyover of the Macphail Woods homestead and surrounding area. Photo courtesy of Macphail Woods Ecological Forestry Project

Gary Schneider tries to get people to fall in love with forests. Photo courtesy of Community Forests Canada

Macphail Woods native plant nursery. Photo courtesy of Macphail Woods Ecological Forestry Project

A stream runs through it — efforts to preserve PEI’s forests are a labour of love for Gary Schneider. Photo courtesy of Macphail Woods Ecological Forestry Project

I don’t know if you know this, but there seems to be a preconceived notion that baths are made for women. I blame television for this. Not once have I ever seen a scene where a father of two has a Calgon moment or springs out of a sudsy tub to grab a ringing phone. Yet I see it with ladies all the time. It’s really unfair, and borderline stereotypical.

There is no reason why baths cannot be seen as a manly thing to do. I’m not saying that the networks are going to start airing commercials where a guy emerges from a clawfoot and wraps a towel around himself to dry off just before putting on his Fruit-of-the Loom briefs. But I think that if men were to approach taking a bath as they do other masculine activities, some bathroom barriers would break down in the process.

I’d like to smash the first shower tile, if I may.

I take baths. Have for years. I know how to take a bath like a man and how to enjoy it like one, too. Allow me to share with you the five crucial elements you’ll need to take a manly bath, or as I call them…The Five Pillars of a Manly Bath. (I call them pillars because of the whole Greek imagery. Well, that and “pillars” has good keyword value. Clever, no?)

The First Pillar: Hot Water

A manly bath isn’t lukewarm. It isn’t even somewhat hot. It is piping hot, as in “it just came out of the hot water pipe without being mixed with the cold water pipe” hot. Your limbs should be steaming as you raise them in and out of the water. Not only does this illustrate how you’re able to take the heat, but if you hold your hand out in the right light it looks like you’ve just shot a fireball out of your hand. And what man doesn’t want to imagine themselves with that kind of superpower?

The Second Pillar: Sound
I’ve left this one somewhat vague for a reason. Some men like to be alone with their thoughts while bathing. That’s a sound, according to Simon & Garfunkel. Some men, like me, like to listen to podcasts. Whether they are tech podcasts, inspirational podcasts or just plain manly ones, that’s up to you. I’d recommend that you don’t try any of the tech tips you may hear on one of the tech podcasts while bathing, though. You want to focus on the bath at hand. That, and you could get electrocuted or something.

The Third Pillar: Lighting
The lower the light, the better. This is your time to relax as a man. If you have a television in the bathroom (yes, some do), remove it. You can watch it later in the comfort of your recliner somewhere else in your home whenever you want, anyway, since as a man you have first right of refusal to the remote control. With that in mind, you can rest easy to some moderate candlelight as you soak away.

It’s important to only use candles that give off a manly scent when you bathe. A good rule of thumb is to stay away for candles that are pink, red or any colour that contains the word “baby” or a type of flower in its name. Also avoid white candles: they are stealthy in appearance as they often have the “girliest” scents.

The Fourth Pillar: Booze
As we all know, a relaxing time isn’t complete without a decent amount of alcohol. But if you want to have a manly bath, you need to pay attention to the type of drink you bring along with you. Below are some acceptable “bath-time beverages”:

• Scotch (single-malt is best)
• Whisky (again with the single-maltness)
• Bourbon

You’d think that gin would be acceptable since so much of it has been made in bathtubs, but neither it nor vodka make for a manly bath. Beer should be a last resort, and wine is never an option. Unless you’re not a man, that is.

The Fifth Pillar: Bath Salts
Notice I said salts, not suds. The only suds that should ever appear near or in a manly bath is if you have to use beer as your last resort bath-time beverage (it will only wind up in the bath if spillage occurs — a cardinal sin on its own). Again, steer clear of “lady-colours” and you’ll be fine. Any salts labelled with a name of a tree or with the word “musk” or “wood” in it are perfect for a manly bath. If you are concerned that adding any scented salts to your bath could compromise the manliness of the bath (or if you’re not ready to take that step yet), simply go with Epsom salts.

Keep in mind that the reason there are five pillars is so that if you don’t have all of them available to you, the bath will still be manly because it does have four pillars to stand on. However, if you have only three pillars then your bath will be lopsided, and unmanly as a result.

Of course, if you only have two pillars…well, that’s a shower. And that’s a whole other story.

Photo Credit

“two feet of water” Emanuela Franchini @ Flickr.com. Creative Commons. Some Rights Reserved.

When I read the quote above, the first person to come to mind is Life As a Human columnist George Burden. The quote is all the more ironic for me because George is not only a writer and an explorer — he’s a physician. I’ll wager he can’t cure himself of his own curiosity and, frankly, there’s no reason why he should.

By any measure, George Burden lives a remarkable life, experiencing the world in a way few people ever have. He’s soared through the air in a CF-18 during an aerial combat exercise and he’s marvelled at the ocean depths from a deep sea submersible and a Victoria class submarine. He’s met royalty in Ghana, watched voodoo ceremonies in Haiti,  written a book on amazing medical stories, and swam in all five of the world’s oceans including the Southern (or Antarctic) and the Arctic. And yes, it was cold.

Somehow George also manages to practice medicine in Nova Scotia, raise a family and write both prolifically and well.

Because so many people have asked me, “Who is this George Burden and how does he do it?” I decided to turn the tables and interview the guy who is usually on the other end of the pen. This is our interview…

1. Tell us your five W’s (who, what, when, where and why):

-Who are you? Of course, there are three ways to gauge this: how I see myself, how others see me and how I really am. I can only say from the first perspective that I am a pleasant middle-age male who enjoys life and likes to get along with everyone. I enjoy helping others which makes me well suited to my career as a GP.

-What are you? I am a father, a husband, a doctor and a writer in that order of importance.

-Where are you? Typing at my desk in my office in Elmsdale, Nova Scotia.

-When are you? I like to think of myself chronologically as blessed with a spirit of youthfulness within a mature framework. One of my friends calls it “arrested adolescence”

-Why are you? Rather than recap the history of philosophy and religion of which I take rather a Buddhist/existentialist slant tempered by a Methodist upbringing, I will simply say “because”.

2. When you were younger, did you feel any indecision about whether you should become a writer or a doctor?

No. I always wanted to be a doctor, but also really enjoyed writing. Of course Anton Chehkov, Somerset Maugham and John Keats to name a few were able to develop writing careers that eclipsed their medical ones but I don’t aspire to those kinds of heights. It’s a hobby that has become a second vocation for me.

3. How do you feel being a doctor enhances your writing and vice versa?

Practicing medicine gives me a unique and rare insight into the human condition. A good GP becomes a trusted confidant and people will convey things to me of which no one else may be aware. On the other hand, writers have to read in areas besides medicine. I’ve been able to tap into areas as diverse as comparative religion and finance to help steer my patients away from disaster. A good writer also learns to explain things clearly and concisely without using a lot of jargon, a vital skill for a physician to master. The famous Canadian medic, Sir William Osler, who founded the Johns Hopkins Medical School, felt exposure to good literature was vital for the effective practice of medicine.

4. What is the place you’ve visited that has most intrigued you … and why?

That’s a tough one. From the point of view of sheer, austere beauty and a feeling of being somewhere very special, the Antarctic is unequalled. Most humans have never experienced the degree of isolation found in this part of the world. The penguins are also the most marvelous little creatures with absolutely no fear of humans.

5. You are a member of the Explorer’s Club. Who are some of the most inspirational humans you have met through the club?

Over the years I’ve met or heard speak such luminaries as Buzz Aldrin, the second man on the moon, and Sir Edmund Hillary, the first man on Everest. The late Sir Edmund was one of the most humble and unassuming people you could ever imagine, kindly and modest about his accomplishments. For his whole life he referred to himself as the son of a beekeeper from New Zealand. Dr. Wade Davis, a Harvard professor originally from British Columbia, instigated my curiosity about voodoo and the psycho-pharmacology of making zombies, prompting my visit to Haiti.

6. Have you ever felt yourself to be in real danger in any of your explorations?

Once when I was hiking on a glacier in Iceland I was leaning forward to get a picture of a glacial mill (a very deep hole in the glacier caused by water flow). I lost my balance momentarily and almost slid into the mill, which would have resulted in me disappearing until my remains resurfaced at the base of the glacier in a couple of hundred years time.

7. You have traveled so much and met so many fascinating people. What do you feel unites humans other than the fact that we share a planet?

No matter what the language and culture we all share a commonality in our sense of humor and our smiles.

8. Which writers most inspire you?

Will Durant’s The Story of Civilization is an amazing, insightful and ambitious collection of volumes chronicling humanity from pre-history to the beginning of the 19th century. This is very readable and informative series for those who want an overall perspective on human history. I also always enjoyed Isaac Asimov’s writing, both his nonfiction and fiction.

9. If you could come back as something other than human, what would you choose?

I would choose an eagle. Gliding on the winds holds a special appeal for me and with their incredible vision, eagles can take in the view exceptionally well.

10. What is your advice to anyone who wants to become a writer?

In short I would say read, read and read. You need to be knowledgeable about your subject to write effectively and to get the most out of your travels.

11. You’ve eaten some pretty strange food. What does a spider taste like? First of all I should state that I would never knowingly consume an endangered species. Having said that, honey-glazed tarantula tastes a lot like shrimp. The glaze keeps the hair on the tarantula clumped together so that it doesn’t get between your teeth.

12. Will you ever write a book of your experiences? Likely when I get the time. After finding out how much work was involved getting my first book completed, Amazing Medical Stories (Goose Lane Editions, 2003) I’ll likely wait until I retire.

13. What are the traits you most admire in humans?

I admire honesty, hard work and perseverance, a sense of curiosity and an open mind.

14. Dislike?

Apathy, laziness and ignorance.

15. There are medical, philosophical and psychological definitions of what it means to be human. What is your definition of a human being?

A human being is a primate of the genus and species Homo sapiens (and in the past Homo erectus and Homo habilis among others) characterized by self-awareness, curiosity and the ability to speculate on future events and to actively strive to change outcomes to those they perceive as desirable.

To read George’s articles at Life As A Human, please click here.

Photo Credits

All photos courtesy of George Burden.

Then it takes a while to come to the idea of wearing a hat.

First there’s denial – a stage in which most men try the comb-over (and some never get past). Next comes bargaining, where you try to make a deal with God or a rep from a pharmaceutical company (who emits whiffs of sulfur and solved his own problem with hair plugs) to grow your hair back.

Finally there’s graceful acceptance. You turn philosophical and tell your friends about all the time you save by not having to shampoo or that being bald means never having to say you’re sorry for a bad hair day.

Acceptance opens whole new fields of consideration.

Okay, the truth is that when you set out to buy a hat for anything other than stylish reasons, it’s almost like pre-planning the funeral of your youth, hopes and dreams. Like finally accepting the need, there are phases to buying a hat. Most men head for the safety of a baseball cap.

This is easy and does not separate him from the eighty million other males who choose to express their individuality with this piece of headgear.

Personally, I think a guy with a baseball hat permanently stapled to his head should never ride in a car with three other guys also sporting baseball hats. They end up looking like a shipment of bobble-head dolls in search of a concession stand to call home.

Next phase is the cool hat phase.

A direct descendent of the ubiquitous baseball hat is the Doo-rag. You know that stupid little black handkerchief sold by a notorious motorcycle manufacturer who makes more money from helping middle-aged office workers look dangerous than from selling the actual bikes.

Then there’s the hep-cat. That’s the one with the short brim rolled up and the crown punched out. These hats make the wearer looks like Harpo Marx with the only thing missing being the obnoxious aaahhooogaa horn.

There are a few other stages involved in choosing a good hat that follow on the heels of these first tentative steps.

Men, particularly older guys who are still working, often don a dignified fedora and they look good in these.

A few go for the ancient mariner look with either a Tilley or Greek fisherman’s hat. This choice is usually made in men approaching retirement age. It’s therapeutic. The urge to stop shaving and bathing combine with the ultimate ambition of smelling like a Greek (or any other) fisherman. This is a means of declaring independence from a lifetime of servitude and ties at the office – that often ends in divorce.

Finally, a few guys who are smart enough not to be chasing lost youth, settle down and choose a hat that suits them. It fits their face, matches the colour of their remaining fringe and is something that their wives aren’t embarrassed to be seen with.

But this opens a whole new can of worms.

When you’ve decided to buy a good hat – a suitable hat, you make the awful discovery there are relatively few great hat shops left, even in big cities.

The demise of men’s hats as a required piece of apparel, as they were in dad’s day, can be laid directly at the feet of President John F. Kennedy. A proud president, he was especially vain about his thick hair and preppy cut. It was the first time a man of authority didn’t look like every other stately old man of authority. Kennedy’s aversion became the ultimate sixties’ fashion statement.

Hair became a proclamation of youth and those without were looked upon with suspicion.

This new, liberated style even had an impact on the auto industry. Cars were designed with lower rooflines because men no longer wore hats like Bogart (or smoked unfiltered Camels) when they sat behind the wheel.

Even in their heyday, there wasn’t a proper name for men’s hat makers. Women have milliners, but those who construct high-level coverings for men are called hatters. Which, more often than not, is tied to “mad as…” At the end of the day, a hat salesmen for men (even if this profession still exists), is still nothing more than a hat salesman.

Except for Harrison Ford, there are no poster guys for stylish hats. Hat consultants who know what they’re doing (not the 18-year-old girl at the stand in the mall who will sell you a cheap chapeau as well as sunglasses and knockoff Reallex) no longer exist.

We’re definitely in trouble and the only piece of advice I can offer as a brother hanging in the breeze is, “Listen to your wife”.

Ask her if your new covering will embarrass her when you go out in public together . . . but never reply if she uses your question as an opening to find out whether you think her new dress makes her bum look fat.

Photo Credits

“Bet You Do Better in a Hat”

“Fisherman Cap” GreaterGoods.com

“Sean Combs” Black Voices

In 1994, I was living in Houston, Texas, and hanging out regularly with a couple of friends from a 12 step recovery program. We had also started playing on a softball team together and had begun to get together every two weeks to talk about where our world was headed — our dreams and aspirations. We’d meet at a small Chinese buffet where we could talk and graze, talk and graze. That was the advantage of the buffet — they never rushed us off. After a while they got to know us and would bring us our regular drinks when we walked in.

One of the guys, Pat, was a bearded mountain man type and a rugged outdoorsman. He came in one evening and started chuckling as he described this TV show he’d watched on PBS. Something about a bunch of guys in the woods of Canada who congregated at a place called the Possum Lodge.

We didn’t think much about it, and went on with our conversation. A couple of nights later I was at home and, just out of curiosity, turned on the show he’d mentioned – “The Red Green Show”. It sort of reminded me of a combination of the Beverly Hillbillies and the Three Stooges. It seemed kind of dumb at first, but after a few minutes, I found myself chuckling. The head guy, this Red Green character, started talking about how men are and how we have to bond together. I related — it had a ring of humorous truth to it.

Then Red was out in the middle of Possum Lodge place talking with his nephew Harold – dork defined – and they were going through an Abbott and Costello type of routine. I found myself laughing several times. This was followed by a silent routine with some white-haired guy named Bill, which was a real hoot, and I started really laughing. Then this Red guy came back on and did a segment called “Handyman Corner”, where he used mostly duct tape to create some bizarre invention. Having worked on maintenance crews and wheat harvest crews where duct tape held the operations together, I found this really funny! Finally they had a meeting of the Possum Lodge, whose motto was “Quando omni, flunkus mortati” — “When all else fails, play dead!” That really seemed like a wonderful send-up of the way guys did things! It reminded me of Ralph Kramden and the lodge.

The next time we met for dinner, I reported I had enjoyed watching the Red Green show. Our other buddy Mike said he would give it a watch. Within three months, we were all hooked! And it was not lost on us that our buddy Pat could be a twin of Red Green! Pat’s big vacation each year was to go tubing — floating down the river on an inner tube — on the Frio River out in the Hill Country of Texas.

He invited me to join their group – his family and relatives all went camping together, sleeping in tents. There were electrical hookups, and after a long day of tubing, Pat would bring out a little TV and tape VCR and we’d sit around the campfire watching taped episodes of Red Green. Ridiculous, yes, but something about watching the dufus clan in the Canadian woods as we were sitting out in the middle of the woods ourselves felt really congruent.

Then Pat showed up at dinner one time and said, “Hey, there’s even a Red Green Fan Club.” We looked at each other, smiled, nodded, and several weeks later received our membership cards in the Red Green Fan Club. What the heck, it was all a lark, and to be somehow officially accepted at Possum Lodge felt humorously right.

These were the days of the Men’s Movement — guys going off into the woods for “Hairy Man” gatherings — to find themselves as men. Part of that movement had been invaluable for me, as I recounted in Ghosts of the Wheat Harvest, because it led me on a journey to heal old wounds with my Dad.

Yet there was much of the men’s thing that felt a little over inflated to us, and somehow the Fan Club was a way to keep us balanced and not get sucked in to the whole “finding yourself” thing too much. We would even hold our fingers up by our heads like moose antlers, and say “I’m a real man, right!” in a high pitched voice (think Possum Lodge meeting).

In one way, this was truth, because we were still in the process of claiming our true power and somewhat unsure about it all. That was underlying our reasons for gathering at the table regularly. On the other hand, it was helpful to take some of this Men’s Movement with a grain of salt. We had all seen various movements come along claiming to be “the fix” and were a bit leery of anything with that claim.

Then one day Pat called me at work. “Hey, guess what? They’re having a fundraiser telethon at the local PBS station, and I just got contacted that Red Green is going to be there. They’re inviting all the local members of the Red Green Fan Club.”

I had an immediate vision of sitting in some bleachers with a group of guys, some dressed up like Red Green, and watching this character drum up pledges on local TV. Hm! Could be entertaining, and maybe we’d even get to shake hands with this guy I decided to do it.

I thought about doing the dress up thing – we had all gotten Red Green suspenders. He wore them every show – one red, one green, and they were kind of like his signature. (I still have mine today.) I decided that would be too much and I’d just go in regular clothes, sit up in the bleachers and watch.

Pat had a conflict that night and couldn’t make it, so Mike and I agreed to meet each other at the studio. We got there, went inside, and told the receptionist we were part of the Red Green fan club, there for the telethon. She got kind of a funny look on her face, and told us how to get back to the studio. We went around a corner, through a door, and there was the telethon – people sitting at phones, evidently waiting for the next commercial break.

We looked for the bleachers and the fan club, didn’t see anything. Some guy came over and asked if he could help us. We told him we were with the Red Green Fan Club. He got the same funny look, and waved us to follow him. We went back to what looked like a break room with some cokes and snacks set up, and there was Steve Smith – Mr. Red Green himself. The Guy introduced Mike and I and told Steve we were there as part of the fan club, and now Steve got the funny look.

He shook our hands and began visiting very naturally with us. On the show, he had a sort of grizzled rough voice, but off camera he spoke in a very mild quiet voice completely unlike the onstage character. He thanked us for being there with the fan club, and then explained the funny looks we’d been getting.

“I’m really glad to see you here – you two are the whole Red Green fan club for tonight!” He laughed and said not to worry about it, we’d have some fun with it.

The Guy came back in and told Steve it was almost time for the next break. Steve started walking back to the studio, and The Guy motioned us to go with him. The next thing we knew we were standing next to Steve as he began the next pledge drive break, riffing about how these loyal members of the Red Green fan club came out in droves tonight to support PBS! By the time we realized we were on TV, he had moved over to talk to the host, and we just stood there, almost in shock.

That was the trend that was to continue throughout the evening. We’d go back to the break room while they ran episodes of The Red Green Show. Listening to Steve back there was like a show itself — he told stories that I only wish I could remember, and had everyone in earshot laughing helplessly.

During the next break, we stood next to him while he told some Handyman story. We guessed we were supposed to just stand there quietly, but Steve was so funny we were cracking up, the same as the cameramen, the phone people, and everyone in the studio. Only we were on TV right next to him.

Then during another break, we saw some of the production people huddling up, and The Guy came over and asked me to come with him. They put me behind a camera, put the headset on and told me I’d actually be running this camera for the next break and pledge drive segment. Then they took another camera and focused it on me.

While Steve was on camera, he talked about how involved the Red Green Fan Club was tonight, even helping in the production of the show. They switched to the camera showing me, and through the headset someone told me to look at the other camera. I didn’t know what to do. Then it just came to me, and I waved the silly wave, smiling the silly smile, that Bill the guy who never talked did on the show! Cracked up the whole audience.

Finally the whole thing was over, and we laughed as we went out to our cars to drive home. We were sure that since it was a PBS fundraiser, probably none of our friends would have seen us — the odds were slim in a town as big as Houston.

Of course that didn’t happen.

I had two messages when I got home asking if that was me on the pledge drive with the guy in the funny suspenders. The next day several more friends let me know they had seen me. I’d had my moment in the sun, and the Red Green Fan Club had done its part. They might not have found us handsome, but at least they found us handy!

Speaking of which, this would not be complete without a little bit of Red Green himself! Enjoy!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHYbbKIybvI

Photo Credits

Photos courtesy of The Red Green Show
Fan Club photo courtesy of Dan L. Hays

I’ve always been amazed that some physical challenges are more susceptible to one gender over the other. If all humans start out with the same basic DNA composition, then why is it that some diseases that cling to the female culture are very rarely associated with the male culture?

Hormonal environments in women attract and nurture a multitude of aliments that men seldom have to deal with or even think about. But recently two diseases considered to be common in women are emerging in the male species.

I was recently watching an episode of a show by America’s favorite physician — “The Dr. Oz Show” — and noted that the audience that normally was dominated by women was primarily filled with men. Right away I knew the segment was geared toward the testosterone variety. I tuned in closely because I’ve never seen so many men in the doctor’s office at one time.

He was shining the spotlight on the new victims of breast cancer and “lupus. These illnesses were more and more being contracted by men.

In the usual Dr. Oz fashion, screen sized pictures and diagrams detailed each condition and showed how the disease formed in the body and how it progressed. And to prove these findings, he invited two male guests to share their experiences with each of the diseases. They expressed their bewilderment in their situations because they too felt that these were “women only” diseases.

The guest diagnosed with lupus dealt with the disease by maintaining the proper diet, taking medication and keeping his stress levels at a minimum. The guest with breast cancer endured the ribbing and teasing from his peers, but with a regiment of surgery and chemotherapy managed to send the cancer into remission.

After watching the show, my thoughts led me to a “metaphysical” writer by the name of Louise Hay. According to admissions by Ms. Hay, she survived a childhood life of physical and mental abuse. Her epiphany came when she associated her negative mental thoughts with the horrible actions that were attracted to her.

By reversing the negative recordings in her mind and replacing the negative with more positive motivating thoughts, she transcended from being a hopeless victim to a strong and powerful mogul. Her research of the cause and thought process of various diseases and the positive thoughts to reverse the mental energy is captured in a publication called Heal Your Body, The Mental Causes for Physical Illness and the Metaphysical Way Overcome Them. My edition is from 72nd print run in August 2007.

Not everyone agrees with Hay’s ideas, but I have used her suggestions since the early 80s and find them effective for my purposes. Curiously, I looked up the probable causes for lupus, cancer and breast problems. Ms. Hay’s suggested the probable thought processes contributing to these issues are as follows:

Lupus — Giving up; better to die than to stand up for one’s self; anger and punishment toward one’s self.

Cancer — Deep hurt; long standing resentment; deep secrets or grief eating away at the self; carrying hatred; feeling of what’s the use?

Breast Problems — Refusal to nourish the self; putting everyone else first. The breast also represents mothering, nurturing and nourishment.

I began to wonder if men were finally beginning to empathize with the female plight? Are they beginning to truly get in touch with their emotional feelings and delve deep to a cellular level? Would they now have to take a more soulful look at how they are being treated and how they are treating others or suffer the consequences of some despicable disease?

Women know the secret to healing is to eventually fess up to their part in the problem, ask for forgiveness and conduct the necessary soul searching to cleanse the wounds that allow the curing to start. We venture to change our routine actions and thinking to keep the tapes from repeating in our minds. Sometimes we go down this path alone, but often we gather in groups of like ambitions for moral support and motivation, whatever it takes to get to the end result. It is the way we love ourselves and because we are learning to love ourselves, it let’s everyone in our lives know that we are learning to love them.

Now I’m wondering if men have what it takes to heal a “woman’s disease once it is contracted?”

Photo Credit

“Masculine/Feminine”