here is the story....

Our Cruise to the Land of Herring and Other Smelly People

They’re Off

Things started off well enough. Ms. Linda, Madi and Sarah and I made it to the airport parking lot and headed to the check-in for KLM while Linda was still on her first roll of film, I mean, Linda was on her first camera disc and had stopped for washroom breaks only 23.5 times. The .5 adjustment was due to one rest stop to adjust her camera strap privately which really, in all fairness, should not be recorded as a full -fledged rest room break.

We managed to fly through the check-in and security lines, thanks to a generous bribe paid to our KLM flight attendant for a sitting in the executive lounge, a wise move from your kindly writer. This seemed to make all hands on deck, including Misses Madi and Sarah, quite content.

The flight was fairly innocuous. OK, there was one incident involving a mean spirited Damian-type two year old seated behind Ms. Linda, regrettably well within kicking range. When asked by the latter to resist the apparent temptation, (he could resist everything but that, apologies to Oscar..) to boot Ms. Linda into perpetual lunar orbit, his maternal influence replied “well, he is a two year old”, apparently merging her mental and chronological age with his, in a bad way. “Yes”, Ms. Linda replied, “he is two year old and you, madam, are an utter ass%%%”.

Amsterdam

We landed safely in Amsterdam, all bodies intact, and after a mere 3 or 4 bathroom breaks, Ms. Linda was ready to rock and roll….that is, roll her bags through the streets and over the canals of Amsterdam looking for our hotel after descending from the bus yet. It always happens that at the precise moment you need the GPS in fighting form, it seems to be whacked out on some psychedelic drug trip, as it took us pretty well right past Hotel d’Amsterdam, our intended resting place, over a few more canals, a couple of dozen wrong turns and voila – somehow our hotel appeared in front of our tired and wet faces.

If anyone tells you that pushing bags through the dreary and rainy streets of Amsterdam at 7 am after a night of no sleep traveling across the ocean, and then waiting in a stupor for 4 hours for a warm bed, well even a cold bed, is a great way to start the day, run for the hills, I mean, canals, right away. Better still – toss them in the nearest canal – it will be only four feet deep by the way, in the centre yet.

Never confused with the Ritz, but nonetheless our dearly beloved resting spot

 

The canals were all dug out in the 1700’s when Holland was an international trading power, as hard as that may be to believe today. And yes, the red light district dates back to the same era. It seems that when the Dutch men set out for sea, the ladies they left behind were equally entrepreneurial and …well, when one boat went out, another one came in.

The canals, much like the one on the Rideau, do freeze over in the winter and do so quickly as they are quite shallow. It would actually be quite fun to see Holland in the winter, I suspect. Let me know how that goes – I will be in the Barbados. The zillions of bikes apparently keep on wheeling through every snow flake.

You see all shapes and sizes of human life on bikes. Not just dikes on bikes…(sorry, my apologies to all our LBGTQRS, I keep forgetting these letters, friends… could not resist that one…it is Holland). There are babies with moms, girls on the handle bars, cross bars and pretty well at every bar. There are business people, men out for a gala evening sporting black tie and tuxedos, women in gowns, track clothes, short skirts, long robes, moms with fresh bread, cheese and wine, three year old kids learning to bike hanging onto dad’s hand, musicians with bass fiddles ( Ok, I made that one up but I did see one guy with a drum), construction guys, professorial looking guys and gals, lovers holding hands….all on bikes..holding hands, that is..put those crazy thoughts away.

The phenomenum is culturally embedded. A great and wonderfully healthy way to travel. There is no parallel to Toronto. In Amsterdam, there are dedicated bike lines everywhere. In TO, the bikers is taking his or her life in his hands every time he goes down Jarvis Street, which is complete madness. In Amsterdam, it is the pedestrian trying to cross the street who is at the same risk of immediate death. First, lanes of bikers whiz by, then 2 lanes of cars, followed yet by another flash of more bikes coming at you from both directions for that little unexpected bit of extra added fun. You can get a repetitive neck strain very quickly by crossing just one street.

A familiar site…there must be a good restaurant close by….

Our hotel was up and over to the right

King Bike Rules

He definitely knows something his passenger does not

Precious Cargo

Head out on the highway….looking for adventure…

These solemn faces are obviously debating the Kessel trade

We enjoyed a lovely cruise through the canals directed by Butch Beau, as she spoke of the history of the canal system quite grandly so of the Dutch by-gone empire of the East Indies, Surinam and what a great deal they made selling “New Amsterdam” to the Yankees, the stupidity of which was paralleled only the Russian sale of Alaska. My Dutch friend Roel told me last night that when the British arrived they needed a Dutch translator as the Indians spoke only Dutch !

Imagine the Dutch running the land to our southern borders – There would be canals from New York to San Francisco. This would definitely have been a step and more up from the monster size food portions and gun culture of the Excited States.

 

The view across the street from our hotel

While we traveled, nine people were shot to death by a white supremacy maniac in South Carolina. Some 65 years after Harper Lee wrote her splendid novel depicting the South’s and America’s treatment of blacks, the beat still repeats endlessly. The Dutch abolished slavery even in their colonies in 1733. It was never allowed in Holland. Having the Dutch for our southern neighbours would have been a definite improvement. We could also get decent deals on those neato wooden shoes, cool racing skates, Edam cheese, tulip bulbs, cigars and gin.

The museums of all things Dutch were also must-see. The Van Gogh was pretty cool to see, even without Starry Night and Irises and the Café at Arles.

Me and my cousin Vinnie

 

 

The Rijks museum was a big hit as well, apart from that tedious Rembrandt guy. The cannons the Netherlands guys stole from the natives in Malayasia, or wherever, were crazily ornate. These natives must have been very sophisticated, check out this cannon design:

Now this is a cannon

 

Even before Vinnie, irises rocked

The inner city was full of friendly how-can-I-help-you locals, climbing roses, old world charm, narrow cobbled streets, Dutch pride, a zillion and one sidewalks bars and cafes all serving the nation’s drinking water discreetly camouflaged as beer in Heineken green bottles, and yes, the occasional rude server. (ok, twice but who is counting) It is a beautiful city, sans doute. Our lunch time sidewalk restaurant allowed its owner’s brown lab to roam around the clientel. Dutch, the affable canine, had a particular affection for brie cheese on a sesame cracker.

The fact that we endured a constant drizzle and coolish no-patio weather most of our stay did not diminish our “must-come-back” view of Amsterdam. The girls were quite good travelers and apart from the occasional mysterious disappearance, were oddly well behaved.

 

There is a rose in Spanish, I mean, Dutch Harlem..it is a special one..Harlem by the way is a derivative of Haarlem, as is Brooklyn.

The Dutch are typically blond, tall and attractive people. Most are warm and friendly. Here is a photo of their warm and openly smiley personalities:

 

I am pretty sure that the middle one was the server who told Linda her water bottles were verboten.

No reference to Amsterdam would be complete without mentioning the ever pervasive “coffee shops”. Now why would anyone be checking for ID for people to get a “coffee”:

Not sure why they sell so many brownies here

 

Germany

We came aboard the Celebrity Silhouette in Amsterdam, all agog with the voyage that lay ahead. This was followed by a day at sea en route to our first stop in Berlin. When we first looked at this cruise, it did come to mind that Berlin was not quite a port city, a fact which was re-entrenched as we docked on the Baltic Sea in northern Germany. Who knew Germany bordered on Denmark to the north ? I must plead complete stupidity to this one.

Berlin happens to be a mere three and one-half hours’ drive from our port. The reader with astute math skills will quickly know that this means at least seven hours in transit, presuming one wishes to arrive back on the boat before its departure. Leaving the boat at 10 am and arriving back at 11 pm will leave your travelers with maybe five hours of “Ich Bin Ein Berliner” time. Keep this in mind for the next time you are doing this cruise.

Well after we decided to take the train in, waited one and half hour for the connecting train, we had three hours in Deutscheland’s Das Kapital.

We did tour Rostock, the first train stop en route, with a friendly taxi driver. Who knew that East Germany, well the former Commie part, was all the way up to the Baltic Sea. To tell you the truth I had never really mapped out where Commie Krautland was. I had always envisaged East Germany being way to the east, next to one of those dark and dingy Soviet commie countries. Nope, here it is sitting on the Baltic next to Denmark and a stone’s throw from Dover and Amstersdam. That was a shocker.

It was a quaint port city with a beautiful harbour landing heavy freight from America and elsewhere, small sail boats and cruises to the nearby Baltic countries. I could not see anyone unloading crates of blackberries from Waterloo…perhaps it was an off-day for Mr. Chen.

Our driver was a wonderful fellow, who toured us through his port city. It was a pretty place, not nearly as devastated by the Russians as the rest of East Germany which was soon to follow. It owed its economic existence mostly to due to the tourists from the boat cruises, who presumably had already endured the seven hour drive to see Berlin on their first visit.

Our friendly driver offered the view that life after unification was definitely comme ci, comme ca, which was surprising. East Berlin has definitely been rebuilt but the hinterlands seem to be resisting economic advancement quite noticeably.

Downtown Rostock – at last

Not a laboratory for weird rodent experiments – City Hall

No idea what this is

Roman grandeur  in small town Germany – you can imagine what Berlin is like !

 

We arrived at Berlin at its amazingly magnificent train station. All trains are electric, quiet and needless to say, on time. We had but three hours to spend in Berlin and fortuitously found a tour bus to reveal to us its majestic and historic sites.

It is startling to see the façade of the building, since rebuilt post war with a cool modern-ish dome yet, where Hitler spoke to the assembled masses in 1939. We passed by Checkpoint Charlie, saw remnants of The Wall, and noted the continual brick remnants of the same wall at ground level as it snaked its path through the city. We saw the headquartered building of the Gestapo and SS where all major war decisions were made. We saw the steps where Kennedy proclaimed “Ich Bin Ein Berliner” to the welcoming masses in West Berlin in 1961 as those in the East listened to the cheers across the Wall, very close to the Brandenburg Gates where Reagan shouted to Gorbachev to “tear down this wall” some seventeen years later.

Reading of history in newspapers and books is one step, but living and breathing in the same pages of history opens your mind and more importantly, your heart.

It is hard to imagine any person witnessing the destruction of such beauty and life. What pain such decisions of war must have caused is simply unbearable to contemplate, never mind the intentional destruction of innocent people.

Hopefully the next generation of these fifteen year olds will learn from the obvious sins of earlier generations.

We saw the glamorous daring powerful architecture of the city, clearly connecting its citizens to the Roman gods and empire of a by-gone era. Berlin is an exciting, beautiful, engaging city. Hitler was not the first German, well Austrian actually, to see the Germans as the master race – their architecture and monuments tell you so. This city speaks to you of its seemingly eternal existence, yet also of the horrors to humanity its people created. It is with mixed emotions our brief glimpse of its life that we departed, but soon, no doubt to return.

All that is fine and well, but what’s with the pay-one-euro-for-the-toilet stuff ?

Estonia

Estonia soon followed, also once a Soviet republic. Tallin is one of those three thousand and twenty cutesy mediaeval towns selling ketchy tourista stuff, café lattes and lots of photo opportunities. I am pretty sure I saw the same lady from Kosovo a few years ago knitting the same woolen sweaters there.

Not quite downtown Schomberg but still cute

Cute Red Roof

An omen of Russian things to come

 

Russia

St. Petersburg followed the next day. Yes, the imperial palaces of the Tsars and the Hermitage, the former home of one of those Catherines, this one being the greatest – not sure if she is a blood relative of Wayne….shows its glamour and splendour and that is just the waiting line to get in. The joint is crazily ornate. Next time I am slitting my throat before taking this tour. Did she really need every hairbrush to be 24 carat gold ? No wonder there was a revolution in 1917. Catie was a devoted art collector. I always thought the Russians stole the art from the Germans who stole it from the Flemish and the Dutch, which is likely still true, but Catie apparently actually bought her Rembrandt collection at least for real rubles.

I can just imagine her doing a few somersaults in her crypt, which, by the way, is in the Bleeding Heart (real name, no keeding) Church, as she watches the vendors selling tee shirts and tourista junk at the summer palace. Rumour has it when the royal entourage left in their carriages from St. Pete’s to the summer playground, about 50 miles ahead, the first carriage arrived while others were just leaving the winter palace. Nicholas, the last tsar, et la famille got their heads chopped off for good reason.

By the way, when the revolution took place in 1917 and the Great War was ending one year later, did anyone here vote for the Canadian troops stationed in Europe to stay on and go off to Russia and fight in the defence of these royal abusers ? It is hard to imagine but that allied forces were enlisted to help mother Russia. See where that story lies in our history books – likely right next to the abuse given to the Chinese in western Canada after the railroad was built in 1867, but that is another story.

All of this should not detract from the beauty of St. Petersburg. It is truly spectacular. The canal system was intended to duplicate those of Venice but after a few of these suckers were dug, Peter-not-so-great-after-all finally figured out that St. Pete’s has a severe winter, 9 months of it yet, so the canal plan was shelved after a few were constructed. Pete liked to paint the buildings yellow, which he did as the winters were so long and dark – do you actually think he fooled anyone ?

SP was the capital from 1703 to 1917, sometimes called Petrograd and after the revolution, Leningrad. It regained its original SP after the 1989 end of the Soviet republics. Apparently there has been some movement to rename it, hard to believe, Putinburg. How bizarre is this ? Putin is immensely popular in Russia, with apparently 80% popular support.

Just because I know you must be wondering, Stalingrad was initially Tsaritsyn for roughly 300 years. The Tsar reference was a tad unpopular after the occasional execution of the Tsar guys and it was renamed after Stalin. Butcherville may have been more appropriate. It was S-grad for only 27 years and then became, to the horror of the Swedish automotive industry, Volvograd. In case you have forgotten Putin is a throw back to the Russian dictatorship movement, he is now supporting a return to the name Stalingrad.

The monumental architecture is entirely spectacular but life on the street for average Joe Ivanovski looks pretty bleak. Our friendly guide told us that after the revolution, churches were determined to be not-so-mother-russia-like. One beautiful Russian Orthodox church we passed by was used, if you can believe this, as a hockey rink for training the Red Army team, post-putsch.

The summer palace of Catherine and her bunch was destroyed by the invading Germans and since rebuilt.

Imagine three on three basketball here

Not the leafs winning in OT, but still….

Art student at the Hermitage – he had studied previously in Chicago

Finland

Finland was definitely a step up. Helsinki is a well-designed modern city with a tip of the hat to art deco architecture and beyond. Yes, it is true, people are full of law and order. They will not cross against a red light, even if you could shoot a cannon down the street and put a gun to their heads. There is much beautiful history here. The people tend to avoid conversation and appear stoically taciturn. It is hard to believe that the Finns had to pay reparations after WW Deux as they were allied with the Nazis.

The Russians invaded neutral Finland three months into the war, apparently intending to capture land that they had ceded to Finland in whatever-that-last-treaty-was four hundred years prior. The Ruskies were kicked out of the League of Nations for starting this fight, a not-so-brutal-sting that somehow they got over.

The Finns then had that romantic war we have all seen in film clips, fighting off the Red Army, schooching down ski hills and constantly knocking off the bad guys with white kinda like a guerilla war on Mt. Blanc. The reality is that the Finns lost this fight, 6 months or so later ceding more land to the Russians than the latter originally demanded. They then, naturally enough, joined the Germans through to the end of the war – who knew all this ? The Finns were also required to pay substantial reparations to the Allies following the end of the war. This seems somehow morally wrong. They get beat up by the Hunns from Russia and then get stung.

Sweden

We arrived at the Port of Stockholm the following day. The introduction was much like Muskoka, pine trees and rock and gorgeous scenery. The city is adorned with ornate historical buildings, much like SP in many aspects.

The Swedes do not use the Euro and they make it as difficult as possible to buy anything, likely not a wise tip for their economic betterment. Unlike SP, which prices its wares in rubles, America dollars and Euros, the stubborn Swedes set prices only in the local currency of kroners. Here we have a zillion tourists shuffling the streets and some magician has to do back stands to figure out what this blue and yellow hat with cool horns costs yet. We did this a few times and contrasted the price which google gave and guess what, the local arab shop keeper was doing a mega rip-off.

I really do love it but I do not “croon” over it…(get it ?….”kroooner” ???)

The Swedes population consists of 30% non-natives which is causing an uproar amongst some. This is much unlike Finland. The Swedes now have a political party dedicated to stopping immigration. Canada, by contrast, has the highest G7 immigration population of (allegedly) 20.7%, a statistic which will make no sense once you visit Scarborough and Asiancourt, I mean, Agincourt.

This is not Borje

The good news is that if I had another day or so, I am sure we could have tracked down Borje Salming. Everyone on the streets recognized his photo and by the time we headed out, I was two hours behind his most recent tracks.

There are at least a  zillion of these statues

 

Ok a zillion and one

Two annoying tourists looking for Borje

Denmark

Copenhagen is right up there in the most-beautiful-baltic cities contest. The downtown centre is close to a tranquil park with fascinating sculpture throughout its greenery. The historic part of the canal district is dotted with restaurants and scenic resting places. Much like Amsterdam, it is a bike culture. Contrary to public opinion, well  at least mine, it has a mild climate, infrequently being below freezing and mild in the summer months. The population of most Baltic cities is modest by North American grade, Copenhagen being in the heavy weight class at 500,000, which is really a perfecto size. It, of course, is home field for Hans Christian Anderson and the Little Mermaid. It is a country where there is modest difference in incomes. Like every Baltic country, there have been wars going back to the beginning of the discovery of herring, Sweden invading Denmark, which was invaded by the Russians, who fought the Germans, all well behind the Romans..not so fast, the Romans did not come this far north…they were, of course, stopped by the Celts at Hadrian’s Wall, yet another story.

We all thought the guy in the background was real…

 

We were here

You may wonder if there were actually real people on this trip. Well, indeed there were. Real enough to forget a purse in Finland. The waitress who found Madi’s forgotten belongings, with cash yet, telephoned Ms. Linda to let her know it was found. Had this happened in SP, there were be at least 10 bottles of vodka easily consumed within the first hour.

A cruise is an ideal setting for two fifteen year olds-going on twenty-something who can comfortably disappear in the morning on sea days, at least, and show up at dinner proving that they still have a pulse and that chasing boys, or being chased, all day, still allows enough energy for dinner. After the compulsory 45 minute max dinner attendance, they were gone for the evening. And yes, Antonio from Brazil did break up with Cindy from Connecticut, his second such terminato yet. It seems Antonio is quite the charmer – who would have thought a smooth talking Spanish kid would be like this ?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The ability to depart from your personal universe to share such a flicker of a moment in time and sense the history of the world around us is nothing short of a wonderment. Jump on a plane, suffer the eight hour journey of bad movies and a few kicks from some brat behind you and you have jumped into a new and engaging world.

 

 

 

 

 

Norman Grosman was my friend. More importantly he was also a father, a husband, a brother and an impressive employment lawyer in Toronto. I believe these are presented in order of importance.

I knew Norm as a colleague for a zillion years. Our real friendship started some twenty five years ago when we met one another in the passport office in downtown Toronto at lunch hour. I was in the midst of yet another tedious hearing and was eyeing my watch. Norm noticed me, next to him, as I was shifting anxiously in my seat. He offered me his ticket number, well in advance of my own, to allow me time to get back to the hearing.

I offered my thanks by a beer invite the following week. We became best friends from that date forward. We then started an employment lawyers meeting night which continues to this day. TFK, Thirst for Knowledge, as it is known, provides a means of employment litigation lawyers to relax and know one another and set aside the nasty court room fights for an evening, well hopefully longer.

Norm was the emcee of the TFK Christmas dinner for many years, He made fun of our peers  and also suffered from the barrage of dinner rolls thrown in his direction. TFK with Norman as chair welcomed our mutual friend, Randy, when he became a Superior Court judge with an evening of hilarity, sincerity and fun with a Maple Leaf sweater of number 680, reflecting his hourly rate.

Norm found the love of his life, Debbie, some 12 years ago. She was diagnosed with cancer some 7 months after they had met. Many would have run for the hills. Norm and Debbie married 4 years later. Debbie’s cancer returned and tragically ended her life in 2012.

Norm was a wonderful caring funny guy, buy refused to show any of these fine traits this until he was down by two martinis.

He indeed possessed fine qualities, yet he was also, like all of us, flawed. Norm’s elder brother, Brian, had started the law firm and invited his much younger brother and his peer, Bill, to join the firm on their graduation. When Brian retired some four years ago, Norm and Brian developed a severe animosity. Who was right or wrong is beyond me and is likely of no consequence.

In 2014, at a TFK Christmas dinner yet, I offered to help each mediate and resolve this painful dispute. Brian was then 78. “Brian will not live, forever”, I said, “Now is the time to end this dispute, do you want to take this to his death?” Norm’s response was emphatically discouraging, It had the F-word in it.

In March the following year, Norm suffered a massive stroke. He permanently lost his ability to speak. He died on his wife’s birthday two weeks ago by medical assistance. It was the best decision he could have made.

Regrettably Norm took his dispute with his brother to his death bed. He tragically denied his brother the right to participate as a family member in the funeral process.

Norm was a lovely friend to me and many others, a wonderful father and human being. I do miss my dear friend, flaws and all.

 

 

 

 

 

Please forgive me if I seem a little nervous standing up here tonight. I was a trial lawyer for 37 years so its extremely unusual for me ti have anyone actually listening to what I say. Kind of unsettling, yes.

Yes I feel better admitting it, that I am recovering lawyer, trying to get used to normal society again…sort of like releasing an animal back to the wild.

So a few years ago, my 8 year old son came to see what his dad does in court. The next day his mother asked him, “hey Matt, do you know anything the neighbour’s broken window?”

He said:

1. Mom, I was not playing baseball outside the house yesterday.
2. If you find as a fact that I was playing baseball outside, it was not me who broke the window;
3. If you find I did break the window, it was a complete accident.
4. If you find that it was intentional on my part, I beg forgiveness and plead first offence with no prior record.
5. A fast learner, obviously.

When I first started practicing law.  Now that it is an odd word, yes ? Someone is charged with murder and they get a lawyer who is practicing ? Don’t they want someone who has got it down ? Yes, I have been practicing law for 40 years, still no clue how to do it right yet…you would think by now, I would have it right…

Anyhow when I first started, I wanted to be a criminal lawyer, as opposed to a lawyer who is a criminal, a very subtle yet very important distinction.

So as a young criminal lawyer with 2 seconds of experience, just so you know, you don’t get murder charges or zillion dollar security fraud cases. No, Perdue Pharma does not usually retain a punky lawyer kid.

Young lawyers get hookers and drug addicts..it makes for an interesting social life…..hey let’s get together after court today…hmmm……….. but as clients…pretty well bottom of the barrel stuff. Plus they are all as guilty as sin…really, success means another hooker back on the street…It’s not really an inspirational life.

Imagine the dinner conversation:

Wife:  How was your day, dear?

Me:    Great, Susy, the Local Good Thing is back on the streets again.

Wife: Well good going. We need more hookers earning cash to buy more drugs from the dealers downtown.

Me:    Yes, I am indeed proud to be contributing to the local vibrant economy.

 

 

 

 

 

Lot of people don’t like lawyers, I know, but they come in handy sometimes. Suppose

 

The Dominion Hockey Challenge Trophy

Lord Stanley, aka the Earl of Preston, and sixth Governor General of Canada, so appointed in 1893, and hence succeeding the Marquess of Lansdowne and predecessor to The Earl of Minto who in turn came before the Earl of Grey ( we have seen the Minto and Grey names on a few other cups …it must have been a catchy fad at the time) in 1904 ( this goes on and on, and is incredibly tedious I know, but I was trying to get to Lord Byng of Vimy in 1921, whose Lady I expect may have had something to do with the NHL as well )… made his name an iconic hockey touchstone by donating a trophy that, ironically enough, does not show his name anywhere on the hardware at all. The name engraved on the trophy, as seen below, is “The Dominion Hockey Challenge Cup”.

One Million Hockey Pucks to Anyone Who Can See “Stanley Cup” on this Silverware

This was all done in 1892, well before, please note, the NHL was even a wink in the eyes of its creators, when the good Lord Stanley put his hands deep within his pocket and came up with fifty big ones for one silver cup.

The actual price paid was not in loonies all, but rather was then 10 guineas, and was so paid to a London silversmith for what has become hockey’s most famous hardware.

The trophy, of course, was not intended for an award to professionals at all, perhaps influenced by the fact that none then existed.

Indeed, the terms of the award of the silver were strictly national in origin and limited to the best amateur team in “The Dominion”, and I am pretty sure he did not mean the grocery store.

You see, the Good Lord Stanley intended in his words, that this would be a “challenge cup“, open to those who met its criteria, which were rather clearly set out as follows:

I have for some time been thinking it would be a good idea if there were a challenge cup which would be held from year to year by the leading hockey club in Canada. There does not appear to be any outward sign of the championship at present. Considering the interest that hockey matches now elicit and the importance of having the games fairly played under generally recognized rules, I am willing to give a cup that shall be held annually by the winning club.

As best as I can read, the terms of his rules were pretty simple. The hardware was to be given to the best team…slow down right here..in Canada and guess what else..it was ( and I cannot recall him ever changing this one before he set sail for the land of cricket and soccer, the latter in England still being in effect, kinda sorta, a challenge system ) a challenge cup.

The name of the award engraved on its very self smacks home all these points – The Dominion Hockey Challenge Cup – surely these words alone say it all !!!

Such was indeed the case for the first years of the Cup’s existence.

First Challenge Cup Winners – Montreal Canadiens –

In the season of 1904, the Ottawa team, was then known as the Silver Seven. The players had each received a silver nugget to celebrate the team’s first championship  and of course, there were then 6 skaters, all well before the forward pass and even player substitutions.

The Silver Seven successfully defended the trophy against the Winnipeg Rowing Club (was that really the name of the hockey team ?), the Toronto Marlboroughs, and a team from Brandon, Manitoba.

The following year the Silver guys defeated a team which traveled from Dawson City, of the Yukon, which was far before Air Canada or even Trans Canada Airlines…whoever remembers that name goes to the top of the old boys club, hence this was quite a road trip for a hockey tourney. They were finally beaten by the Montreal Wanderers in 1907.

When the NHL came into existence in 1917, there were 4 teams established. They were all Canadian – The Montreal Canadiens, the Montreal Wanderers, the Ottawa Senators and the Toronto Arenas. ( another whacko name )

Before the NHL there was the NHA, The National Hockey Association formed in 1910 with its membership being all Canadian as well – the Montreal Shamrocks, The Montreal Wanderers, the Renfrew Millionaires and also teams from Cobalt, and Haileybury, unlikely a site to be on the radar for NHL expansion.

Somehow I suppose it seemed natural enough to let these guys have a shot at it. After all they were Canadian and who would then think Gary Bettman would ever be seen some 100 odd years later, in Washington DC of all places ( we just finished burning the sucker in the War of 1812 a few years earlier…Ok…. a hundred or so years earlier ) giving the Dominion Hockey Challenge Cup yet, in front of a bunch of screaming foreigners, who really should have thanked us for letting them rebuild their House White. ( it was red, of course, before we burned it)

Kindly note, Mike Richards and you Los Angeles Kings Guys, the Leaside Flames, 10 year old variety, hereby challenge you to a game to decide who may claim title to this trophy. We will see you on the ice next week, Friday morning, Leaside Arena at 10 am. Ok, make it 11 if you are on a late flight.

Ok, so here is the plan. I am thinking it is a darn good bet that those King guys are likely going to be a no show for the challenge game…they would be smart to show up, mind you, but let’s keep that as our little secret.

The Flames…not the James Brown Variety….next winners of the Dominion Hockey Challenge Cup ?

 

Then we sue the Kings and the NHL and the moron trustees who actually hold the cup ( and by the way they are ignoring the direction of the donor), on behalf of my 10 year old kid’s team to force the Kings to show up and defend the Cup. After all Leaside for sure is in Canada, the team is most certainly amateur ..it seems that they touch all the bases, to switch sports metaphors very briefly, (speaking of which…wat’s wit the Jays….are they not supposed to dominate…i digress) to qualify.

I have shared this thought with others. There is a groundswell of support. Heck, we can probably get public funding for this sucker.

I figure it would take 12 to 15 years of the smooth wheels of the court system for the Supreme Court of Canada to confirm what I am sure will be a 9-0 decision mandating the challenge game between the Leaside Flames and the L.A. Kings for the big one.

The 10 year old Flames- Runners Up in the Consolation Round of the North Windermere Southern Methodist Township Christmas Tourney Today, Tomorrow’s Silver Seven-teen ?

By then the LA players will be about 40 or so. My kid will be about 22. The Cup will then come back where it belongs. Leaside Flames win the big one. Surrender it now, Mike. Do the right thing.

 

Posted 13th April 2013 by David Q Harris

 

also here

 

Today is December 6, 2015. I am sitting on the Norwegian Sun as we are docked in Uruguay. My operation will soon be four weeks ago. I remain in pain and cannot walk more than 50 yards, which is another good reason not to tour Montevideo, not that I needed one. I have lasting memories of this place being El Dumpo from the last tour in 2009, which I prefer not to revise.

I fear walking on the ship, particularly near the feeding stalls. There is nothing worse than being in the way of a fat hungry Latino with a chocolate mousse in direct view.

Since this operation, I have felt very old. The pain is constant.  My energy level has waned. Being an invalid is not as attractive as I had first imagined. It is a lonely place to be. This idea of a two week cruise is not as much fun as I had contemplated.

The ship is old but still quite nice. Apart from the agony of pain and no mobility and being alone, it is not so shabby.

It is now Monday, December 7, day 3.  I have not been feeling well but today there seems to be a revival happening, This is a sea day. I awake at 545 am to get some coffee and breakfast. Then I went back to bed and slept until 930 am. Last night was Obama’s speech from the Oval Office. I see myself as his supporter but even I had to agree with the Fox commentators that his 13 minute speech was pathetic. The world wanted to hear some new dramatic measure that he was taking to counter this recent surge of terrorism after San Bernadino and Paris but no such thing was forthcoming. Most people would be willing to allow the review of their individual metadata tracking, if done with such an objective in mind. At the very least he could have allowed for this instead of droning on about gun control. It is far too later for gun control measures, not that it is a bad idea.

The Republicans are all crazy, going on about putting in troops on the ground to counter ISIL, bombing them to oblivion and how Obama has created this mess by getting out of Iraq too early – USA was there for 11 years, yet. George II never should have lifted the lid from Sadam. At least he knew how to keep the craziness of the Kerds, Sunnis and Shiites in check.

Imagine when this mess started who in NA knew that there was such divisions in the Arab world. How could all this have come undone so dramatically. The US had no knowledge of WMD. All this was based on a fairy tale. I can remember thinking when George II was on the US Destroyer giving the thumbs up of success in what – 2 years after the invasion of Iraq – likely sooner…thinking that the US has now unleashed a civil war in Iraq which will blow up the Middle East – imagine what the CIA thought and knew…and sure enough…kaboom.

What a mess we have now – crazies bathed in Islamic Nonsense, resident in the USA with access to guns as easy as buying a carton of milk. This is a tinder box about to explode….again.

It is difficult to conceive of how two people, with a six month old baby yet, could

willingly cause the deaths of innocent people by such barbaric acts.

The CNN commentator was urging people to arm themselves with guns…yep, that is the solution ! unbelievable. We are sooo lucky to be Canadians.

 

 

 

 

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