In celebration of Mother's Day:

[Return to the home page of MakingMoreOfToday.com.]

Each of us have birds native to their area of the world. The two birds that I love the most are the North American Robin and the Red Tailed Hawk.

The robin is a gentle bird — happy to co-exist with people on the lawns of Eastern North America. This year, I saw my first robin in my own backyard, on March 9th, amidst the melting snow piles. It was sharing space with a black squirrel, with both of them probing the early Spring lawn for something to eat. At one point the robin and squirrel were within 2 feet of each other, and neither was troubled in the least. In fact, I have never seen a squirrel and robin interact, let alone quarrel.

By the time summer fully arrives there will be thousands of robins across our city, using their hopping motion to move around the yard in search of worms to pry up, either for themselves or their little ones. That robins also lay beautiful, light-blue eggs is another reason I like them.

Robins are independent. Unlike other "city" birds like pigeons and geese, they won’t badger you for a snack. They can get their own, thank you very much!

The robin will happily co-exist with humans. Cars don’t startle them (unless you drive onto the lawn) and walking by a robin gets you only a brief glance — you have to be closer than 10 feet to get what I would call a wary glance from a robin. This makes the robin a wonderful companion, and a great way for children to enjoy nature up close and at its most peaceful.

The joy of robins is that they are calm. In that way they are a role model for all of us.

They know there is food to be had. They know most people ignore them. They know they have few enemies, and rarely have to flee. They are good fliers, and can move to a fresh lawn any time they wish. They also have fun: flying like acrobats, standing on tree branches, and singing.

Robins are also unique in their community styles. They are often on their own, and seem quite content with that. When they find a mate they are dutiful in building a nest and finding food for the young ones. And they can also be seen in larger groups, particularly in the autumn when they are getting ready to migrate south to find warmer worms.

I love robins. They are calm, close, and beautiful singers.

Robins make me feel that nature loves me too.

[Return to the home page of MakingMoreOfToday.com.]

I went for a walk at twilight, in the early spring, and came
upon the lamps at our neighborhood school.

Red Lamps at Twilight

In day ignored as children play.
At night aglow but colours fade.
At twilight lights stand crisp and red.
They wait to shine from upraised head.

Rob Hueniken

[Return to the home page of MakingMoreOfToday.com.]

One of the best-selling toys our culture has produced is the ever-pretty Barbie, by Mattel.  As the father of a former young daughter, I have experienced first-hand the playing, dressing and accessories that Barbie brings to our world. It was a positive time of fun as well as social exploration and learning. When my daughter became a teenager, I remember when she decided to remove her Barbies from her bedroom, and it was a strong and sad moment for me. I felt that I should have spent more time sitting together with her, combing Barbie’s hair and play-acting adventures in the safety of our home.

But one of the finest compliments my daughter ever gave me was saying that when she was growing up we made her feel that girls can have any career — that there was nothing a girl couldn’t do. When she got to university she said she was surprised at how, even in our modern equality-sensitive world, there are many young women without the foundations for success.

While some people are not keen on Barbie’s pink color scheme or her stylized body, I prefer to focus on the positive aspects of sharing, community and fun that Barbie-land brings to children. While there is little doubt that daily life rarely achieves the idyllic stylings of a doll’s world, Barbie and her friends provide frameworks for children to explore the concepts of beauty and community, of careers and possibilities.

As adults we know that life can be hard, but we keep on trying to make our world better, both for us and our children.  We come to appreciate the more subtle and fleeting moments of beauty in our world, and rejoice when we reconnect with the happy times of our youth.

I recently visited Toys-R-Us, a Mecca for parents seeking to start or augment their own Barbie-land. 

A man had just arrived, and as he looked around at the cavalcade of pink my heart reached out to him. He pulled out his cell phone, knowing he was in over his head, and wisely called his wife or sister to help him.

He was part of a centuries-long chain of dedicated parents and caregivers who want children to have not just fun, but a time of peaceful wonder,  discovery and beauty — to know possibilities and to not feel limited by anything. We want that for children, whether we had that in our own childhood or not, because that is what we want for ourselves.

So when someone says “Stop and smell the roses” I often think of them as pink roses, and I remember the joys and possibilities of Barbie-land.

[Return to the home page of MakingMoreOfToday.com.]

I love music, and I always have. It makes my body move and my spirit soar. I have many favorite songs and passages, and I can listen to them repeatedly — thrilling to the skill and nuance of the performers.

My brain plays songs I’ve heard, like a tape recorder in my head.  But sometimes it plays songs I’ve never heard, and those are the hard ones for me to hear, without the skills to make them real.

When I was in first year university I lived in a residence with many other young men. It was a mix of hard working students and party lovers, all learning to live away from home. Many people left their hallway doors open, and there was a real community feel in the dorm.

One of the guys on my floor played classical guitar, and I often heard his skilled and melodic playing floating down the hallway. I was a shy person but, drawn by the sound of his guitar, I introduced myself. Over the next couple of weeks I often spent time sitting in his room, listening to him play. He wasn’t limited to classical guitar — he could play anything, from folk to rock. It was amazing and wonderful to hear up close.

One day when I dropped in my friend was reading a book. He welcomed me, and as I sat down he saw me looking at the guitar. “Pick it up,” he said. “Give it a try.”

I carefully picked up his beautiful acoustic guitar and clumsily sat it across my lap. “You won’t break it,” he said. “Just try.”

I had no clue about notes or how to play, and the sheer number of frets was intimidating. But I plucked out some notes, slowly and quietly at first, and then more enthusiastically. I was surprised by the vibration of the guitar — of the physical pulse that accompanied the start of each note. It was an extra dimension that a non-musician would not have experienced.

With my friend kindly appearing to ignore me and read his book, I tried playing a bit more. After a few minutes of fiddling around I found a series of notes that sounded good to me, and my awkward fingers somehow got them into a loop. It was fun!

Just then another guy from the floor came into the room. No doubt he had heard disturbingly awful playing coming from an otherwise quality guitar.

“That’s not how you play,” he said, shaking his head and frowning. “That’s no way to play a guitar.”

My gut wrenched, and I felt a wave of shame and regret that I had dared to pick up that guitar. I have no memory of anything my friend might have said at that moment. All I remember is a dark hole being punched through my fledgling attempt at music, and then a lot of years passing. I still loved music and appreciated musicians — even more than before — but any thoughts I had of playing music were kept small out of a fear of rejection, and easily brushed aside in the busy-ness of work and family.

Last year at Christmas I received some money as a gift, and with it I bought myself a beautiful guitar, which looks a lot like the one my friend played at school years ago. It sits in the corner of my room — a reminder to appreciate our world’s creative and musical communities, and those who encourage them.

Sometimes I pick it up.  I have taken guitar lessons — from a skilled and lifelong music teacher — so I can play a few chords.

But I can never get back those years when I was a vulnerable young man trying to play music for the first time. I was an impressionable, sensitive person who a jerk successfully shot down.

My son playing my guitar on stage. Please encourage the musicians and artists in your life.

I have a son now, just a bit older than I was in this story. He is a wonderful guitarist and musically skilled in ways that I admire but can not quite comprehend. He has tried to teach me some music, and has encouraged me to play more. “You’re over-thinking it,” he has told me, no doubt correctly.

But the extra 30 years of life have changed my brain, and are not easily erased.

If they could be, and I were back in that dorm room, I would wish for two things to have happened:  My guitar-playing friend would have kicked the jerk out of the room and told me in a clear and supportive voice, “You’re doing great. Keep trying”.

And I would have kept trying — enjoying and knowing how to play a musical instrument.

Please be a patron of the Arts. Whether your child or friend loves music, drama, dance, art or writing — please be supportive and encouraging. The Arts and our community, not money, are the collective value of our world.

[Return to the home page of MakingMoreOfToday.com.]

Stepping into my father’s workshop always takes me back in time. Not only are my parents collectors of memorabilia, but they continue to make good use of the things they already have. So when I look around my father’s garage I see tools that have existed since I was a boy, including a vice, a band saw, and various ancient screw drivers.

While my mother prepared our lunch, my father showed me his latest project – to add a second door to the front hallway, to keep the cold air out, but with a window to keep the light flowing in. Their front door already has a window in it, so a second door with a window would let my parents keep the natural light.

Being a resourceful person, my Dad took an unused door, removed a wooden panel, and was busy inserting a Plexiglas window into its heart. It was at this stage of the project that I arrived – to help my Dad nail in the Plexiglas.

As he prepared to starting hammering, a big smile came to my face – he was using the same finishing hammer that I had used as a boy. It was a bit more worn now, but it was still the same light-weight hammer I had used, before I was strong enough to use a regular hammer.  But in my Dad’s case, he knew that this job required a finishing hammer, so that is what he was using.

My role turned out to be supplying my father with one inch finishing nails, one at a time, while he hammered them carefully into place. He has a steady, practiced hand and not once did he bend a nail or dent the door with an errant hammer blow.

As I watched him working carefully and skillfully, I remembered my own hand on that hammer, and him helping me on projects. To be working together, with the simple job of handing him the next nail, was a sublime and satisfying joy – one that transcended the moment — connecting the two of us through years of building and sharing time together.

One hammer but many moments together – the joy of working side-by-side is not secondary, but the most important product of my father’s hammer.

If you enjoyed this article, please read my poem about cleaning my son’s workshop area.

[Return to the home page of MakingMoreOfToday.com.]

Humans come in all sizes, shapes and styles, and just when you think you’ve seen every possibility you see someone who looks different yet again. I think we all find people to be interesting — they are variations on ourselves and the world-wide human community.

Height is one of the greatest sources of differences with people. People can look different and act differently in many ways, but height is a unique and obvious trait that we can all agree on.

Height is tied into the process of human growth: we all start very small, as babies, and then grow taller. We become aware, as children, that we are in fact growing taller, and are cheered on in this by our family — especially our aunts. We come to think that being taller is something we are striving for, even though we don’t have much influence in how tall we’ll become.

And then one day we stop growing taller — we lock in a height and become adults. We don’t lose our awareness of height, but we understand that it is not something we get to choose. Since the the majority of people are kind and understanding, we stop teasing people who are shorter than us, and get down to making our way in the world, which rarely has height as a factor.

But height remains in our awareness and daily interactions.

How often are a group of people together when someone says “I feel short”? They often say it with a half-laugh, and even people who aren’t much shorter sometimes say it.

When people say they feel short it always makes me stop and look at them. And it makes me want to protect or comfort them. Why? It’s not because they are shorter, but because they said it.

Although saying they feel short might just be an observation, I think it is more. I think that proclaiming we feel short is a universal way for people to express being vulnerable and different, and wanting to be accepted despite of that.

We all know that height is a terrible measure of a human. No matter how self-interested or critical we can be, at our core we know that each and every person has value.  In fact, any person can be the one who does something vital and important, and we all know that.

We are all the same size inside.

[Return to the home page of MakingMoreOfToday.com.]

Anyone who has teenagers knows the sadness of their leaving to start their own home.
For parents with children the advice is clear: play with your kids; spend time doing things together — today!

This is a poem I wrote for my son, whom I love dearly.

Cleaning the Workshop The time has come to clean the room. To move big pieces and use the broom. And lift the layers time has spread Which spin back memories through my head. Against the wall a wooden box Raised up on legs with screws is locked. And on the front my son’s full name By his own hand it does proclaim. And there within a child’s treasure: Bits cut from wood without a measure. Tiny tools for a young hand That now belongs to a young man. How long these treasures lay in dust, His interests elsewhere but here I touch The time we shared and built a toy When I was the father of a small boy. I clean the box and throw out strings That may have been the start of things. I keep the projects that have shape And with a camera a shot I take. I miss that boy and the simpler times When shapes and tools were on his mind. But here’s his hammer in my big hand. From the things we built we made a man. By Rob Hueniken

[Return to the home page of MakingMoreOfToday.com.]

Things that look alike can turn out to be very different as we get closer to them, and get to know them.

I have always been a fan of Smarties, the colorful candy-coated chocolate treats (Wikipedia). Round but also flat, small but easy to grab — they are fun to eat and easy to share.  Their cousins, M&Ms, share the same features.

I can even thank Smarties for teaching me the idea of sorting: “Here are the red ones, and here are the blue ones.”

Smarties usually come in a box, which even kids can open, and make a great sound when you shake it. They are like candy maracas!

Balloons are another source of joy through the years, and are also round and colorful.

It is difficult to estimate how much fun balloons have added to our lives over the years. They have been at birthday parties, anniversaries, and going-away parties. Balloons are pretty much guaranteed to add a festive air to any celebration.

They are also a great source of helium, which lets us talk in a high-pitched voice.

Even though balloons and Smarties are both round and colorful, we can easily tell one from the other. A Smartie fits on your fingertip; a balloon is the size of your head. A Smartie tastes good; a balloon won’t fit in your mouth and, as a choking hazard, tastes suitably awful. [General eating advice: never eat anything bigger than your head.]

Both Smarties and balloons can be good while they last. While the final moment of a Smartie is one more sweet crunch; the final moment of a balloon is a loud pop or a shrivelled husk, hopefully when we’re not there.

We learn about new things bit by bit, often helped by others. We often can’t tell how things are going to work out, but can take comfort in knowing there are many good things in life.

For things we aren’t sure about, it’s okay to take things slow, and take a closer look.

[Return to the home page of MakingMoreOfToday.com.]

Each autumn a diaspora of children, young and getting older, spreads into schools and communities across the nation. As the parent of a university-aged daughter, I hold dearly my role in helping her grow from a teen to an adult.

Yesterday my wife and I helped our daughter move into her new home, using two cars to ensure there was enough room for all the furniture, clothes and fridge. There were many things to bring, but none as precious as the promise of new learnings and opportunities to share and grow.

It was a successful day of setting up that included me helping her put up photo frames and attach white water lily flowers to the walls. I wondered for a moment about what landlords think of 30 flowers stuck into the wall, but the final result was of beauty, joy and new creation. That is what we hope for in times of growth.

While spring and summer are the main growing months for crops, the autumn is the time for children. I cherish my daughter, and the moments I get to help her directly. I relish and respect the chance I get to help a child. Step by step, flower by flower, they becoming the people they are meant to be.

[Return to the home page of MakingMoreOfToday.com.]