I'M A SONIC BOOMER

A Senior's Guide to Being Wrong (Gracefully)

2026-06-14T00:00:00.000-07:00

Let me start with something that still amazes me after nearly eighty years.

The human brain has remained virtually unchanged for the past hundred thousand years. The same brain that lived in caves, painted on walls, and huddled around fires is the same brain sitting in your skull right now. The same fears. The same hopes. The same tendency to leap to conclusions that are completely, spectacularly wrong.

How humbling is that?

Your ancestors looked at a rustling bush and assumed a tiger. Sometimes they were right. Sometimes it was the wind. But the ones who assumed tiger and ran lived to tell the tale. The ones who assumed wind sometimes did not.

We inherited that brain. And we still use it. Except now, the rustling bush is not a tiger. It is a friend who did not return our call. A neighbour who looked at us funny. A family member who said something that stung. And our ancient tiger brain says, "They hate you. They never cared. This is the end of the world."

Spoiler: It is almost always the wind.

Here is a truth I have learned the hard way, over and over, across eight decades.

When we are hurt in a relationship, when we are spinning in confusion, trying to figure out why someone did what they did, the explanation we choose usually has more to do with our own fears and vulnerabilities than it does with reality.

We think they are angry at us. Actually, they just had a bad day.
We think they are ignoring us. Actually, they never saw the message.
We think they meant to hurt us. Actually, they were hurting themselves and we happened to be standing there.

Almost always, the true explanation has nothing to do with us. It has to do with the fears and vulnerabilities roiling in the other person, invisibly to us.

That is not an excuse for bad behaviour. It is an invitation to stop making everything about us.

Here is the uncomfortable truth. We do not live in reality. We live in the stories we tell ourselves about reality.

We are sensemaking creatures. We cannot help it. Something happens, and our brain immediately constructs a story about what happened and why. The problem is that these stories are at best incomplete and at worst injuriously incorrect.

And the cost of our wrong stories? Connection. Trust. Love.

How many friendships have you seen end over a misunderstanding that could have been cleared up with one honest conversation? How many families have been split apart by a story someone told themselves and refused to let go of?

I have seen it. You have seen it. Maybe we have even done it.

The great Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh said something that stopped me in my tracks. He said that much of our suffering comes from wrong perceptions. Not from what actually happened. From what we think happened.

And the only way to remove the hurt is to remove the wrong perception.

That is not about being weak. That is not about letting people off the hook. That is about caring for yourself. Why would you choose to carry a hurt that is based on something that might not even be true?

You would not. Not if you thought about it. But we do not think about it. We just feel it. And then we act on it. And then we make everything worse.

Here is a simple practice that has saved me more times than I can count. The next time you feel hurt by someone, try these three things.

First, acknowledge internally that the picture you have in your head may not be accurate.

Just say it to yourself. "I think they meant to hurt me. But I could be wrong." That tiny crack of doubt is where healing begins.

Second, when you are ready, go to the person—not with an accusation, but with a request for help.

Instead of saying, "Why did you ignore me?" try saying, "I am feeling hurt, and I know my hurt may come from my own wrong perception. Can you help me understand what happened?"

That is not weakness. That is courage. That is the courage to be wrong.

Third—and this is the hardest part—listen. Really listen. Not to prepare your defense. Not to plan your counterattack. Listen to understand.

The other person may have a story you have not considered. It may be true. It may not be. But you will never know if you do not listen.

Here is why I am sharing this with you.

Younger people are watching us. They are watching how we handle conflict. How we apologize. How we admit we were wrong. How we reach across divides and rebuild bridges.

And right now, the world is full of people who have decided that their story is the only story. That their hurt is the only hurt that matters. That the other side is evil and cannot be listened to.

You and I have lived long enough to know better. We have been wrong before. We have apologized before. We have been forgiven before. We have seen relationships restored by nothing more than a willingness to say, "I may have misunderstood. Help me understand."

That is leadership. That is being a role model. That is showing the next generation that growth comes from change, and happiness comes from acceptance, and merrily, we are built to do both at once.

Here is the thing about being eighty. I have been wrong so many times that I might as well get good at admitting it.

I have been wrong about people I loved. Wrong about situations I was sure I understood. Wrong about why my wife was upset (spoiler: it was almost never what I thought). Wrong about why my children did what they did.

And every single time, when I finally stopped defending my wrong perception and started listening, something shifted. The hurt diminished. The connection restored. The love came back.

Not because I was right. Because I was willing to be wrong.

That is the gift of age. Not certainty. Humility. Not the last word. The courage to ask for help.

So here is my challenge to you. The next time you feel hurt, pause. Ask yourself: Could my story be wrong?

And then, if you are brave enough, go find out.

You might be surprised. You might be relieved. You might just save a relationship that matters more than being right.

And the younger people watching? They will learn something too.

They will learn that being a grown-up is not about having all the answers.

It is about being willing to ask the questions.

Once Upon a Time: Why Seniors Need Fairy Tales Again

2026-06-13T00:00:00.000-07:00

Let me ask you something. When was the last time you read a fairy tale?

Not to a grandchild. Not as a favour. For yourself.

If you are like most seniors, it has been decades. We put away fairy tales somewhere around the time we put away dollhouses and toy trucks. We decided they were for children. We decided we had outgrown them.

But here is what I have learned after nearly eighty years. We did not outgrow fairy tales. We just forgot why we needed them.

Fairy tales were not invented to entertain children at bedtime. They were told and handed down from generation to generation because they contained lessons that people needed to learn to survive in an increasingly hostile world.

Think about it.

Little Red Riding Hood taught children not to trust smooth-talking strangers.
Hansel and Gretel taught them that even seemingly kind people could have dangerous intentions.
The Three Little Pigs taught that doing things right the first time, brick, not straw, could save your life.

These were not gentle stories. In their original forms, they were terrifying. And they were supposed to be. Because the world was terrifying, and children needed to know how to navigate it.

We are adults now. We think we do not need such warnings. But the world is still hostile. The strangers are still smooth-talking. The wolves are still at the door. And we, perhaps, have forgotten how to recognize them.

There is a famous story about Albert Einstein. A mother asked him how to make her son more intelligent. She expected him to say something about mathematics or physics.

Instead, he said, "Read him fairy tales. If you want him to be very intelligent, read him more fairy tales."

Einstein understood something that we have forgotten. Fairy tales are not the opposite of science. They are its companion. Alongside physics and poetry, they are our best instruments for discerning the rules of reality and building from them models of what is possible.

Physics tells you how the world works. Fairy tales tell you how to live in it.

The Italian writer Cristina Campo wrote something that has stayed with me. She said that hope and trust are different things, and confusing them can be dangerous.

Hope is counting on a lucky break. Hope is thinking that this time, things will work out because you deserve them to. Hope is fragile. It depends on particular events going your way.

Trust is different. Trust does not count on particular events. Trust is sure that there is a larger pattern, a deeper economy, which encompasses everything that happens, the good and the bad, and surpasses their meaning the way a tapestry surpasses the individual threads that compose it.

The hero of a fairy tale does not hope. The hero trusts. They trust that if they follow the path, if they pay attention, if they are kind to the strange old woman who asks for help, something will come of it. They do not know what. They do not know when. But they trust.

That is what we have lost. Not hope. Trust.

Here is the thing about fairy tales that we forget as adults. The hero is always asked to do the impossible.

Find the golden thread in the dark forest.
Answer the riddle before the sun rises.
Awaken the sleeping princess with nothing but a kiss.

And here is the secret. The hero succeeds not by being stronger, smarter, or luckier. The hero succeeds by forgetting their limits when contending with the impossible, and paying constant attention to those same limits when performing it.

That is not a contradiction. That is wisdom.

When you are facing the impossible, a diagnosis, a loss, a change you never wanted, you must forget your limits. You must act as if you are capable of more than you think you are.

But you must also pay attention to your limits. You must rest when you are tired. You must ask for help when you need it. You must know that the impossible is achieved one small step at a time.

Fairy tales teach this. We forgot.

Here is something that sounds strange, but I believe is true. Adversity, challenges, and bumps in the road are often the first signs that a great healing has begun.

Think about a fever. It is uncomfortable. It is scary. But it is also the body's way of burning out an infection. The discomfort is not the problem. It is the solution.

The same is true for the hard things in life. The job loss that forces you to finally pursue what you love. The illness that teaches you to slow down. The death that reminds you to cherish the people who are still here.

Fairy tales understand this. The hero does not defeat the dragon and then live happily ever after without scars. The hero defeats the dragon and is changed. Wiser. Kinder. More capable of seeing what matters.

We want the victory without the transformation. Fairy tales know that is not possible.

Here is a final thought to carry with you.

Everything you treasure exists not because it had to. Not because it was likely or necessary. But because the universe took a gamble against staggering odds.

You are here. Against all odds, you are here.

The love you have known. The children you raised. The friends who have stayed. The sunrises you have watched. The meals you have shared. None of it was guaranteed. All of it was improbable.

And yet here it is. Here you are.

Fairy tales remind us of this. They remind us that possibility always exceeds probability. That the wildest reaches of the possible are not found in spreadsheets or statistics but in stories. Stories about girls who sleep for a hundred years and wake to love. About boys who trade a cow for magic beans and find a giant's treasure. About ordinary people who, when faced with the impossible, find within themselves the trust to walk forward anyway.

This week, read a fairy tale. Not to a grandchild. To yourself.

Read The Snow Queen. Read The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Read the story of Baba Yaga or Vasilisa the Wise. Read something that reminds you that the world is stranger and more possible than the news would have you believe.

And when you finish, ask yourself: What impossible thing am I being asked to trust right now?

You may not have an answer. That is fine. The hero never knows at the beginning either.

But the path is there. The thread is there. And you, like every hero before you, have everything you need to find it.

Once upon a time are not just words for children.

They are the oldest, wisest, most hopeful words we have.

And we need them now more than ever.

When the Circle Grows Smaller: A Guide to Dancing Anyway

2026-06-12T00:00:00.000-07:00

Let me tell you something we do not talk about enough.

As we age, our circle grows smaller. It is just true. The phone rings less often. The holiday card list shrinks. The chairs around the table that used to be full now have empty spaces where laughter used to sit.

And if you are like me, you have started attending a different kind of gathering. Celebrations of life. Memorials. Whatever name we give them, they are the same thing. A room full of people who all loved the same person, standing around trying to remember the good jokes and pretending not to notice the empty chair at the front.

It is hard. Anyone who tells you otherwise has not lived long enough.

But here is what I have learned after nearly eight decades of watching people come and go. Death is not the opposite of living. It is part of living. And if we spend all our time mourning the circle growing smaller, we miss the chance to love the people who are still in it.

Here is a strange truth. You already know how to heal. You already know how to rebound, restore, and prevail. It is not something you need to learn. It is something you need to remember.

Think about it. Every time you have fallen, you have gotten back up. Every time you have lost someone, you have kept going. Not because you are special. Because you are human, and humans are built to survive loss. It is stitched into us like the hem on a favourite coat.

The problem is that we forget. We get so caught up in the pain of the moment that we cannot see past it. We think the grief will last forever because it feels like it will last forever.

But it does not. It softens. It changes. It becomes something you carry rather than something that carries you.

And that is not a betrayal of the person you lost. That is exactly what they would want.

Here is where we get ourselves into trouble.

We let the wrong things define us. Our spouse. Our best friend. Our health. Our ability to drive. Our garden. Our weekly coffee group. All of it precious. All of it dear. And all of it, eventually, subject to change.

The problem is not that we love these things. The problem is that we allow them to become the walls of our identity instead of just the furniture inside.

When your spouse of fifty years dies, you do not just lose a person. You lose the person who knew you best. The one who remembered your stories because they were in them. The one who laughed at your jokes because they heard them first. The one who defined you, in part, simply by being there.

And that loss is real. It is sometimes unbearable. It is the kind of pain that makes you want to crawl into a cave and never come out.

But here is what I want you to hear. You are not just half of a couple. You are not just someone's spouse or someone's parent or someone's friend. You are you. And you are still here.

The love does not disappear. It just changes shape.

Spirit Will Emerge. And So Will Your Wings.

I love that phrase. I am going to say it again.

Let logic stand aside. Have no fear. Spirit will emerge. And so will your wings.

Logic tells you that when your circle grows smaller, you should be sad. Logic tells you that when you lose someone you love, you should grieve forever. Logic tells you that the empty chair will always be empty.

But spirit tells you something else. Spirit tells you that the love you shared is still with you. Spirit tells you that you are allowed to laugh again. Spirit tells you that the best way to honour someone who died is to keep living.

And your wings? Your wings are the things you still have. The friends who are still here. The grandchildren who need your stories. The garden that needs tending. The volunteer shift that needs filling. The coffee that still tastes good in the morning.

You do not need to figure out how to fly. You just need to remember that you already have wings.

I am going to say something that might sound strange. I have started to see Celebrations of Life differently.

Yes, they are sad. Yes, I would rather have the person back. But here is what else they are. They are reunions. They are history lessons. They are the only time you will hear your cousin tell the story about the time your uncle tried to fix the roof and fell into the rose bushes.

They are also a reminder. A reminder that you are still here. That the circle, though smaller, still holds. That the people in that room love you and are glad you came.

So, go. Eat the finger sandwiches. Tell the embarrassing stories. Cry if you need to. Laugh when you can. And when you leave, take a moment to be grateful that you got to be there at all.

Not everyone does.

Here is something the young people in your life do not know yet. They think death is something that happens to other people. They think they have all the time in the world. They think the circle will always be full.

You know better. And you can teach them.

Not by lecturing. By example.

When they see you grieve and keep going, they learn resilience.
When they see you laugh at a funeral, they learn that joy and sorrow can coexist.
When they see you show up, week after week, even when it is hard, they learn what it means to be an adult.

You are not just living your life. You are teaching them how to live theirs.

I know that look. The one you have right now. The one that says, "Royce, this is all very nice, but you do not know how much it hurts."

You are right. I do not know your specific pain. I have my own, and I suspect you have yours.

But here is what I do know. You deserve to be happy. Not someday. Not when the grief passes. Now. Always.

Not because the loss is not real. Because the love is also real. And love, when you let it, has a funny way of outlasting everything else.

So go ahead. Feel sad when you need to. Mope when you must. But do not build a house there.

Because your wings are waiting. And there is still so much to waltz for.

Love that look on your face right now. You deserve to be happy. Always.

Rainbows, Clydesdales, and the Art of Being a Delightfully Unpredictable Senior

2026-06-11T00:00:00.000-07:00

Let me tell you something that took me nearly eighty years to figure out.

Life is not a spreadsheet. It is not a carefully calibrated plan that you execute flawlessly until you run out of time. If it were, we would all be bored out of our ever-loving minds.

No, life is a surprise machine. And surprises are life's ultimate way of gently, or sometimes not so gently, tapping you on the shoulder and saying, "Wake up, sleepyhead. You're missing the show."

Here is the trouble with us sensible seniors. We have learned things. We have survived things. We have accumulated wisdom like squirrels accumulate nuts, and we are rightly proud of our stash.

But sometimes that wisdom becomes a cage.

We know what we like. We know what we do not like. We know what works and what does not work. And somewhere along the way, we stop asking new questions because we already have all the answers.

But here is the thing about answers. They are just old questions that fell asleep.

And when we stop asking new questions, we stop growing. We stop transforming. We become monuments to ourselves, and monuments are lovely to visit, but they do not dance, they do not laugh, and they certainly do not try kale for the first time at age seventy-eight. (I did not like it, but I will try it again in 10 years,)

Let me explain the phrase "Rainbows and Clydesdales."

A rainbow is a surprise. You do not schedule it. You do not earn it. You are just going about your rainy day, feeling a bit glum, and suddenly the sun breaks through and there it is, a ridiculous, glorious, impossible arc of colour painted across the sky. It asks nothing of you except that you look up and say, "Oh."

A Clydesdale, on the other hand, is a different kind of surprise. Have you ever seen one up close? They are enormous. They are magnificent. They are the gentle giants of the horse world. And if you are lucky enough to encounter one, maybe at a fair, maybe pulling a wagon full of tourists, maybe just standing in a field looking impossibly large, you cannot help but feel a little bit smaller and a little bit wonder-full at the same time.

Neither rainbows nor Clydesdales care about your schedule. Neither asks for your opinion. Neither requires a committee meeting.

They just show up. And they make you feel alive.

That is what I mean by thinking outside the box. Not because outside the box is smarter. Because outside the box is where the rainbows and Clydesdales live.

Here is my challenge to you. Starting tomorrow morning, do one thing a day that surprises someone. Especially yourself.

Not big things. You do not need to take up skydiving or learn to play the bagpipes (please do not learn to play the bagpipes unless you live very far from other humans).

Small things.

Put a rubber chicken on the kitchen table. Leave it there. Say nothing.
Call your adult child and leave a voicemail that is just you humming the Jeopardy theme song.
Wear one purple sock and one green sock. Act like you do not notice.
Put a funny sticker on your walker. A googly eye on your cane. A tiny plastic flamingo in your houseplant.

These are not ridiculous acts. These are acts of rebellion. They are you reminding yourself that you are not a monument. You are a living, breathing, surprising human being who still has the capacity to delight.

And here is the best part. When you do something surprising, you force everyone around you to ask a new question.

Why is there a rubber chicken on the table?
Did Dad just hum the Jeopardy theme song?
Is he really wearing mismatched socks, or is this a test?

Those questions wake people up. They shake them out of their own deep sleep. And before you know it, you are not just a senior. You are a leader. You are a role model. You are the person who reminded everyone that life is allowed to be fun.

A few years ago, I decided to wear a Hawaiian shirt to a formal board meeting. Not aggressively formal, but the kind of meeting where people wear collared shirts and use words like "strategic alignment."

I walked in. People stared. No one said anything.

Halfway through the meeting, the treasurer, a lovely woman, looked at me and said, "Royce, is that a palm tree on your shirt?"

I said, "It is. I am conducting a strategic alignment of tropical vibes."

She laughed. The whole room laughed. And the meeting was better for it. People loosened up. Ideas flowed. We got more done in that hour than in the previous two meetings combined.

All because of a stupid shirt.

That is the power of thinking differently. It is not about being smarter. It is about being looser. It is about giving yourself permission to be a little ridiculous so that the people around you give themselves permission to be a little human.

Here is a truth that might surprise you. The young people in your life are not looking for you to have all the answers. They have Google for that.

What they are looking for is permission. Permission to be uncertain. Permission to try things and fail. Permission to laugh in the middle of hard times. Permission to wear mismatched socks and put rubber chickens on tables.

And you can give them that permission simply by doing it yourself.

When you act like a monument, you tell them that life is serious and mistakes are not allowed and joy is for children.

When you act like a rainbow or a Clydesdale, unexpected, glorious, a little ridiculous, you tell them that life is allowed to be strange and wonderful and that growing older does not mean growing stiff.

Which message do you want to send?

So here is my challenge to you for this week.

Find one rainbow. Real or metaphorical. A splash of unexpected colour in an otherwise grey day.

Find one Clydesdale. Something so unexpectedly magnificent that it makes you feel small and wonder-full at the same time.

And then find one small, surprising thing that you can do to wake someone else up.

Not because you have to. Because you get to.

Because you are a senior. You have earned the right to be eccentric. You have earned the right to be surprising. You have earned the right to put a rubber chicken on the table and dare anyone to say a word about it.

Now go forth and be delightfully unpredictable.

The world needs more rainbows. And Clydesdales. And seniors in Hawaiian shirts.

That is your legacy. Not what you accumulated. What you awakened.

The Artist in All of Us: Why This Time Is Not Our Undoing

2026-06-10T00:00:00.000-07:00

I know it is easy to look around right now and feel the world coming apart. The news is relentless. The arguments never end. The ground that felt solid yesterday seems to shift beneath us today. And if you are over sixty, you have seen versions of this before, different details, same unease.

But here is what I want you to hear, especially if cynicism has become your blanket or depression your unwanted companion.

You are not a sinking ship. You are a swimming rat.

Let me explain.

Chaos Is Not the End. It Is the Beginning of Something New.

Think about ice. Solid. Predictable. You know exactly what it will do.

Now add heat. The ice cracks. It softens. It becomes something else entirely. For a moment, it looks like it is falling apart. But that chaos is not destruction. It is transformation. The ice is becoming water, and water can flow where ice never could.

We are living in that messy middle. The old ways are melting. The new ways have not fully arrived. And yes, it is uncomfortable. But here is the truth the cynics forget: every stable thing you have ever loved was once chaos being shaped into order.

The peace you enjoy. The rights you hold. The community you cherish. None of it appeared fully formed. It was built by people who refused to believe that the mess was the end of the story.

When the world feels unstable, we tend to look for engineers people who will bolt things down and make them rigid again. But that is not what holds a civilization together.

What holds us together is the creative spirit.

The artist. The storyteller. The gardener who plants seeds in broken soil. The grandparent who tells a child, "I have seen worse, and we got through it." The volunteer who notices an empty chair and makes a phone call. The neighbour who bakes bread and shares it.

These are artists too. They are making something where nothing was. They are imposing order on chaos with the simplest tools: attention, care, and the stubborn belief that beauty still matters.

Toni Morrison once said that this is precisely the time when artists go to work. Not when things are calm. When they are falling apart. Because art clarifies. Art nourishes. Art reminds us that we are still here, still thinking, still feeling, still capable of imagining something better.

Here is what the depressed mind forgets. You cannot control the news. You cannot control the economy or the politicians or the algorithms. But you can control:

· Whether you get out of bed this morning

· Whether you call someone who might be lonely

· Whether you write down one thought that matters to you

· Whether you plant something, fix something, or simply show up somewhere

Those small acts are not trivial. They are the bubbles being blown in the chaos. They are the webs being spun. They are the lighthouses sweeping the thankless seas.

And they matter more than you know.

Younger people are looking at this moment with fresh eyes. Many of them have never seen instability like this. They are frightened. They are angry. They are looking for someone who has been through a hard season and come out the other side.

That someone is you.

You have lived through recessions. You have lived through wars and threats of war. You have lost people you loved. You have rebuilt. You have adapted. You have learned that the sun rises even after the darkest night.

You do not need to be a professional artist to be an artist of living. Every time you choose hope over despair, you are creating something. Every time you refuse to pass your cynicism to a younger person, you are legislating a better future. Every time you show up to a coffee, to a board meeting, to a grandchild's recital you are building a vantage ground in the chaos.

The writer E.M. Forster once said that when the ships are sinking, he would rather be a swimming rat than a sinking ship. It is not dignified, perhaps. But you can look around longer. You can see things the officials missed. And you can find other rats swimming beside you, hearing each other's calls through the impenetrable wood.

That is what we are. Not dignified. Not certain. Not in control of the whole storm.

But swimming. Looking. Calling out to one another.

And that is enough. That has always been enough.

So, this week, make something. A meal. A phone call. A garden. A joke. A quiet hour of sitting still and breathing. It does not have to be grand. It just has to be yours.

Because the world does not need more cynics. It has plenty.

It needs the artist in you.

And that artist is still very much alive.

How Much You Need to Retire in Canada at Age 65.4

2026-06-09T00:00:00.000-07:00

You are eligible for Old Age Security (OAS) immediately, and your Canada Pension Plan (CPP) payments are no longer penalized for early withdrawal.

Annual Expenses Remain the Same

The average Canadian retiree still spends approximately $41,000 per year on living expenses .

How Much Help Do You Get from the Government at 65.4?

Federal Programs

A) Canada Pension Plan (CPP)

Starting at 65.4 years: You avoid the early-retirement penalty. If you wait until age 65 (or slightly beyond), you receive the full base amount.
Maximum monthly amount (age 65): $1,507.65
Average monthly amount: Approximately 900 for most retirees.

B) Old Age Security (OAS)

Available immediately at age 65.4
Maximum monthly amount (April–June 2026): $743.05
Claw back threshold: OAS begins to be reduced if your individual net income exceeds approximately $90,000 per year

C) Guaranteed Income Supplement (GIS)

Available to low-income seniors receiving OAS
Maximum monthly amount: Roughly $1,108.74 on top of OAS
Crucial note: RRSP/RRIF withdrawals count as income and reduce GIS; TFSA withdrawals do not.

Provincial Programs

Provincial support generally begins at age 65, so you now qualify immediately:

BC Homeowner Grant (Seniors): Up to $845 off property taxes in Metro Vancouver/Fraser Valley
Ontario GAINS: Additional income top-up for low-income seniors
Quebec Shelter Allowance: 170/month for low-income renters aged 50+

The Updated Numbers: A Clearer Picture

Assuming you have average CPP (743/month) at 65.4:

Source	Monthly Amount	Annual Amount
CPP (Average)	$850	$10,200
OAS (Max)	$743	$8,916
Subtotal (Government Only)	$1,593	$19,116
Estimated Annual Spending Need	,	$41,000
The Gap (Needed from Savings)	,	$21,884 per year

How Much Personal Savings Do You Need?

Using the 4% withdrawal rule (a commonly accepted guideline for sustainable retirement income):

Annual Gap	Savings Needed
$20,000	$500,000
$21,884 (your gap)	$547,000
$25,000	$625,000
$30,000	$750,000

Conclusion: At age 65.4, with average government benefits, you likely need a personal nest egg of approximately 550,000 to generate the additional income required for a comfortable retirement.

If you want a more comfortable lifestyle (60,000 annually), target 1,000,000 in personal savings.

Waiting pays off. Delaying retirement to the average age of 65.4 reduces your personal savings requirement by roughly 250,000.

OAS is a gamechanger. Those extra 8,916 per year) significantly close the gap between government support and living expenses.

Know your numbers. If you have a workplace pension or a spouse with additional income, your required savings may be lower.

TFSA is your friend. Unlike RRSP withdrawals, TFSA money does not count as income, so it will not claw back OAS or GIS benefits.

The average Canadian now retires at 65.4 not because they want to, but because the math works better. If you can afford to work those extra years, or even partially retire with part-time income, you will likely enter retirement with more security, less stress, and a much smaller burden on your personal savings.

As always, speak with a financial advisor to tailor these numbers to your specific situation, CPP contributions, and retirement goals.

The Average Retirement Age in Canada

2026-06-08T00:00:00.000-07:00

I retired at officially at age 60. I worked or unretired for another 8 years and finally retired at age 68,

So, I was curious as to hat the retirement age was in 2025. The numbers surprised me. As of 2025, the average retirement age in Canada hit a record high of 65.4 years . The most recent data from Statistics Canada places the average at 65.1 years as of 2023, up from a low of 60.9 in 1998 .

Here is how the numbers break down:

Group	Average Retirement Age
Overall Average	65.1 - 65.4 years
Men	65.9 years
Women	64.2 years
Public Sector Employees	63.1 years
Private Sector Employees	65.4 years
Self-Employed	68.0 years

Over the past two decades, the average retirement age has risen by over four years. In 2003, the average Canadian retired at 61.7; today, they work until well past 65 .

Three main factors are driving this shift:

1. Canadians Are Living and Working Longer
The labour force participation rate for seniors aged 65 and older reached 15.2% in 2025, the highest since tracking began in 1976. That's nearly 1.2 million seniors still in the workforce . More older adults are choosing to work for pay, up from just 6.6% in 1994 .

2. Financial Pressures Are Real
Many Canadians are delaying retirement because of inflation, higher living costs, and concerns about having enough savings . The retirement period (the time between stopping work and passing away) peaked in 2012 at 22.7 years. By 2025, that period had shrunk to 20.5 years as people retire later .

3. The Rise of "Unretirement"
Many older adults who thought they had retired have returned to the workforce, often in part-time or contract roles. They stay connected to the labour market for financial reasons, personal fulfillment, or both. This "unretirement" trend is contributing significantly to the rising average age.

What This Means for You

If you are planning to retire early, you would be retiring earlier than the current average. This means:

You will need more personal savings since you will not yet qualify for Old Age Security (age 65 minimum) and your Canada Pension Plan payments will be permanently reduced if taken early
You are part of a minority but not alone, many Canadians do retire earlier due to health reasons or personal choice

As one analysis notes, after falling to a low of 60.9 in the late 1990s, "the average age at retirement then reversed course and has since steadily increased to its current high" . The trend shows no sign of changing.

Picture this or Listen to this

2026-06-07T00:00:00.000-07:00

You may have noticed that in many of my posts I lean on a familiar invitation: “picture this.” It slips in like an old friend, taps you on the shoulder, and says, “Come with me, I’ve got a scene to show you.” That habit didn’t come out of nowhere. It was shaped in a classroom, where I watched students lean forward when something looked clear, when ideas were laid out like a map instead of a maze.

Picture this (there I go again): a classroom buzzing just before lunch. One student is sketching a diagram so detailed it could hang in a gallery. Another is quietly rereading notes, tracing lines with a finger like they’re following a trail through the woods. These were the visual learners, at least, that’s what we called them. They seemed to grasp things best when they could see them, charts, graphs, diagrams, even well-organized paragraphs that didn’t wander off like a distracted storyteller.

So, when I started writing posts, I naturally leaned into that strength. I painted scenes. I built little word-pictures. I tried to make ideas visible. Not because I had a grand theory about it, but because it felt like handing someone a flashlight instead of asking them to walk in the dark.

But here’s where it gets interesting, and where, if I’m honest, I have to smile a bit at myself.

I could just as easily have written for the ear instead of the eye.

Instead of “picture this,” I might have said, “listen to this.”

Listen to this: the low hum of conversation in a coffee shop, cups clinking, a chair scraping softly across the floor. A voice rises just enough to tell a story, pauses for effect, then lands the point like a well-timed punchline. Some people remember that moment not because they saw it, but because they heard it. The rhythm, the tone, the little pauses that make meaning stick.

If I were writing with sound in mind, I might swap out my visual cues for something more like this:

Instead of saying, “picture a winding path through a forest,” I’d say, “hear the crunch of gravel under your feet as you walk a quiet trail, the wind moving through the trees like a soft whisper.”

Instead of “imagine a bright summer morning,” I’d go with “listen for the screen door slamming, kids laughing in the distance, and a lawn mower droning somewhere down the street.”

Same idea. Different doorway.

And here’s the twist in the tale, the part that gently pokes at all of us who spent years trying to match teaching styles to learning styles like we were pairing socks.

A lot of research has stepped in over the years and said, “You know what? This neat little system we’ve been using, visual, auditory, kinesthetic, it doesn’t quite hold up the way we thought.” In other words, teaching someone only in their preferred style doesn’t necessarily make them learn better or remember more.

That can feel a bit like discovering your favourite shortcut actually takes longer.

But before we throw out the paintbrushes and turn off the microphones, there’s something worth holding onto.

What does help people learn and remember is richness. Variety. Engagement.

It turns out the brain isn’t sitting there saying, “Sorry, I only accept information in visual format between the hours of 9 and 11.” It’s far more flexible, and far more interested in meaning, emotion, and connection.

So maybe the value in “picture this” was never just about visual learning.

Maybe it was about invitation.

It was a way of saying, “Step into this moment with me.”

And if I add a little sound, a little movement, maybe even a touch of humour, well, now we’re not just looking at an idea, we’re experiencing it.

Let me give you one more example, just for fun.

Visual version:
Picture yourself putting off a small task, say, fixing a squeaky brake. The calendar pages flip, the problem sits quietly in the corner, and then one day, bam, you’re looking at a repair bill that makes your eyebrows climb halfway up your forehead.

Auditory version:
Hear that faint squeal every time you tap the brakes? You turn up the radio to drown it out. A week later, it’s louder. Two weeks later, it’s practically singing a solo. And then comes the mechanic’s voice, calm, steady, and just a little too cheerful, telling you it’s no longer a “quick fix.”

Same story. Different sensory hook. Same lesson… with maybe a slightly more expensive ending.

If there’s a takeaway here, it’s not that we’ve been doing it wrong. It’s that we’ve been doing it partially. Like telling a story with only half the instruments in the band.

So, I’ll probably still say “picture this.” Old habits, after all, are loyal companions.

But I might start inviting you to listen more often too.

Because the real goal isn’t to match a style, it’s to make the message land, linger, and maybe even make you smile along the way.

And if I can do that while gently reminding myself that I don’t have to paint every scene like a landscape artist… well, that’s a lesson worth hearing, and seeing, at the same time.

What Happens When You Get Happy Enough

2026-06-06T00:00:00.000-07:00

My friend said something to me the other day that I haven't been able to shake.

He looked at me over his coffee, that knowing look people get when they've lived long enough to stop caring about looking silly, and said:

"Royce, did you know that if you get happy enough, you can actually hear colors and see music?"

I laughed. Then I stopped laughing.

Because he wasn't joking. Not entirely.

Think about it. When was the last time you were truly, deeply, unreasonably happy? Not just "fine." Not just "not stressed." But the kind of happy where the world looked different. Where problems that seemed enormous yesterday suddenly felt manageable. Where you found yourself smiling at a stranger for no reason at all.

In that state, strange things happen.

You paint without numbers. The rigid rules you usually live by, the shoulds, the musts, the "what will people think", they loosen their grip. You colour outside the lines, and it turns out beautiful.

You eat dessert and lose weight. Not literally, of course. But when you're truly happy, food becomes nourishment again, not a weapon, a comfort, or a punishment. You enjoy the cake without the guilt. And somehow, that peace matters more than the calories.

You spend money and have more. Not because of magic. But because happy people spend differently. They spend on experiences, on connection, on things that actually matter. And those investments pay dividends that no bank can match.

You love unconditionally. The grudges you've been carrying? They suddenly feel too heavy for the journey. The small slights you've been rehearsing in your head? You forget what they were about. Love flows more freely because you're not guarding yourself against hurt that hasn't happened yet.

You feel as if you can live forever. Not in a denial-of-death way. In a "this moment is so full that time itself seems to pause" way. In a way that makes eighty years feel like a beginning, not an ending.

I can hear you now. "That's lovely, Royce. But you don't know my life. You don't know the stress, the bills, the losses, the news cycle, the family drama."

You're right. I don't know your specific battles. But I know this: happiness is not the absence of problems. Happiness is the ability to breathe anyway.

The world has always been mad. There has never been a golden age without war, without worry, without heartbreak. The difference is not in the world. The difference is in where we place our attention.

Happiness does not require you to ignore real problems. It requires you to stop letting those problems steal every single moment of joy you could otherwise have.

You don't get to "hear colors" overnight. But you can start moving in that direction today.

Stop scrolling. The news will be there in an hour. The arguments will continue without you. Put the phone down. Look out a window. Notice that the sky is doing something interesting.

Do one thing you used to love. Before life got so serious. Before you became the person who always says, "I'm too busy." Do that thing. Even for ten minutes.

Find someone who needs encouragement. The fastest path to your own happiness is making someone else a little happier. Call a friend who's struggling. Write a note. Show up.

Forgive yourself. For the mistakes. For the weight you've gained. For the patience you lost. For the years you spent grinding instead of living. Let it go. You did the best you could with what you knew. Now you know more.

Expect good things. This sounds simple, but it's profound. Happy people expect that things might work out. Not naively. Not without planning. But they wake up believing that something good could happen today. And that belief changes how they see everything.

My friend was teasing me, of course. You can't literally hear colors or see music. But you can get close. You can reach a state where life feels richer, fuller, stranger, and more wonderful than you ever imagined possible.

It's not about ignoring the stress and madness. It's about refusing to let them have the final word.

So, here's my invitation to you. This week, get a little happier. Not for anyone else. For yourself. See what shifts. See what becomes possible.

You might be surprised.

And if you figure out how to eat dessert and lose weight, please call me. I have questions.

"We don't laugh because we're happy. We're happy because we laugh." , Probably someone who got happy enough, said this.

Dad Jokes for June, One for Every Day

2026-06-05T00:00:00.000-07:00

Share one each morning. Watch the groans roll in. That is how you know they are working.

June 1 – Why did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was outstanding in his field.

June 2 – What do you call a fish with no eyes? A fsh.

June 3 – Why don't scientists trust atoms? Because they make up everything.

June 4 – What do you call a fake noodle? An impasta.

June 5 – Why did the bicycle fall over? Because it was two-tired.

June 6 – What is brown, hairy, and wears sunglasses? A coconut on vacation.

June 7 – Why did the math book look so sad? Because it had too many problems.

June 8 – What do you call a pig that does karate? A pork chop.

June 9 – Why did the cookie go to the hospital? Because it felt crumbly.

June 10 – What do you call a sleeping dinosaur? A dino-snore.

June 11 – Why did the student eat his homework? Because the teacher said it was a piece of cake.

June 12 – What do you call a bear with no teeth? A gummy bear.

June 13 – Why did the golfer bring two pairs of pants? In case he got a hole in one.

June 14 – What do you call a can opener that does not work? A can't opener.

June 15 – Why did the banana go to the doctor? Because it was not peeling well.

June 16 – What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground beef.

June 17 – Why did the toilet paper roll down the hill? To get to the bottom.

June 18 – What do you call a dinosaur with an extensive vocabulary? A thesaurus.

June 19 – Why did the picture go to jail? Because it was framed.

June 20 – What do you call a lazy kangaroo? A pouch potato.

June 21 – Why did the gum cross the road? It was stuck to the chicken's foot.

June 22 – What do you call a factory that sells generally okay products? A satis-factory.

June 23 – Why did the stadium get so hot after the game? Because all the fans left.

June 24 – What do you call a snowman with a six-pack? An abdominal snowman.

June 25 – Why did the computer go to the doctor? Because it had a virus.

June 26 – What do you call a sheep with no legs? A cloud.

June 27 – Why did the man put his money in the freezer? He wanted cold hard cash.

June 28 – What do you call a dinosaur that crashes his car? Tyrannosaurus wrecks.

June 29 – Why did the orange stop rolling down the hill? It ran out of juice.

June 30 – What do you call a bear caught in the rain? A drizzly bear.

At-a-Glance: June 2026 Celebrations

2026-06-04T00:00:00.000-07:00

At-a-Glance: June 2026 Celebrations

Date	Celebration	Where	Best for seniors?
All June	National Indigenous History Month	Nationwide	Storytelling, craft demos, seated events
All June	Pride Month	Nationwide	Daytime picnics, accessible parade zones
All June	National Seniors Month (ON, NS, MB)	Participating provinces	Free events, intergenerational activities
June 1 (observed)	Easter Monday (federal holiday)	Nationwide	Quiet cafés, matinees, relaxed family tea
June 5 (Friday)	National Donut Day	Nationwide	Free treats, coffee chats, no cooking!
June 21 (Sunday)	Father’s Day	Nationwide	Pancake breakfasts, car shows, ball games
June 21 (Sunday)	National Indigenous Peoples Day	Nationwide (statutory in NWT & YT)	Powwows, bannock tasting, seated drumming circles
June 21 (Sunday)	Summer Solstice	Nationwide	Evening golden-hour strolls, popsicles at sunset
June 24 (Wednesday)	Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day	Quebec only	Sugar-shack picnics, parades, French sing-alongs
June 27 (Saturday)	Canadian Multiculturalism Day	Nationwide	Food samples, dance troupes, "passport" activities
June 26 onward (Fridays)	Summer Fridays	Quebec & growing nationally	Early-bird suppers, quieter museums, 2 PM ice cream
Late May–early June	Eid al-Adha (community events)	Muslim communities nationwide	Reserved seating, tea & dates, henna painting
Plan ahead for August	Civic Holiday / Natal Day / BC Day / NB Day / Heritage Day	Most provinces (not QC or PEI)	Lawn-chair fireworks, classic car parades

Celebrations in June

2026-06-03T00:00:00.000-07:00

June is busting out all over, and it is time to celebrate the arrival of summer. In Canada here are some ideas to help you celebrate our country,

Here are some quick tips for those of us who are older and are visiting new places:

· Pace yourself, Many celebrations have daytime, low-mobility options. Look for “seniors’ seating” or “accessible viewing areas” online before you go.

· Travel with a grandchild, Many events offer “intergenerational” tickets or activities. Let the younger one handle the walking; you handle the storytelling.

· Stay hydrated, June can be warm. Pack a water bottle, a folding stool, and sunscreen. Most outdoor events welcome lawn chairs.

· Ask for discounts, Seniors’ discounts are common at museums, matinees, and even some food trucks during June (Seniors Month).

· Don’t be shy, Canadian celebrations are famously friendly. Strike up a conversation at a picnic table. You might make a new friend, or find a long-lost cousin. The list and my reasons for attending. The first part of my list is the month long celebrations. The second part is

National Indigenous History Month (All June)

The atmosphere creates a month-long invitation to learn, listen, and marvel.
Why you should take this in: Every day this month is a chance to connect with the deep roots of local cultural centers, libraries, and parks often host gentle walking tours, storytelling circles, and artisan markets perfect for all mobility levels. We will appreciate the oral histories and craft demonstrations (like beading or drum-making), while younger grandkids can ask questions and participate in hands-on activities. It’s a beautiful way to bridge generations through respect, art, and ancient wisdom.

National Donut Day (June 5, 2026)

This is a fun day tor trying something sweet, silly, and purely delicious.
Why you should indulge yourself: Who doesn’t love a free or discounted donut? Grab the grandkids and visit your local bakery or coffee shop, many offer a complimentary treat with a coffee purchase. It’s a low-mobility, high-fun outing. Share stories of the old-fashioned donut shops while the little ones pick the wildest sprinkle-topped creation. No cooking, no cleanup, just a sweet start to summer with a side of nostalgia.

Father’s Day (June 21, 2026)

A day for Dads to be laid-back, loving, and it is multi-generational.
Why you should celebrate: This is the perfect day for a “family field trip” that honors dads, grandpas, and father figures. Think pancake breakfasts in community parks, afternoon fishing at a local pier (seniors can sit with a line in the water while kids net the minnows), or an early evening ball game where seniors get discounted tickets. Many communities host car shows or classic music concerts, ideal for a dad who loves to reminisce. No stress, just quality time.

National Indigenous Peoples Day (June 21, 2026)

This is a chance for you to celebrate, be respectful and joyful and learn.

Why you should take part: This day (coinciding with the Summer Solstice) brings powwows, drumming circles, and Indigenous-led celebrations to cities and small towns alike. We will love the accessible seating at outdoor gatherings, where we can watch dazzling regalia and dance demonstrations. We can sample traditional foods like Bannock or three sisters soup. It’s a vibrant, family-friendly atmosphere where younger generations can learn authentic history while everyone celebrates Indigenous resilience and joy together.

Discovery Day, Newfoundland & Labrador (June 22, 2026)

I have been to Newfoundland only once, and I loved it. My wife’s family is from Newfoundland, and she has been back and she loves it as well. Newfoundlanders are adventurous, proud, and quirky (in the best way).
If you are there this holiday marks John Cabot’s “discovery” of the province (with modern acknowledgment of Indigenous peoples who were already there), this day is now a celebration of NL’s unique spirit. There will community fairs, kitchen parties (with live accordion music!), and easy coastal walks. Seniors will feel like royalty, many towns set up shaded seating areas for storytelling sessions about “the old days.” Kids can run around while grandparents sip tea and enjoy a screech-in ceremony from a comfy distance. A true east coast hug.

Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day / Fête nationale du Québec (June 24)

The day is a joyeux, celebration of Quebec, it is musical, and bursting with pride.
If you are lucky enough you will see that across Quebec, this is the summer party. The great news for us and visitors? It’s incredibly inclusive. During the day, find family-friendly parades, craft fairs, and poutine-eating contests. By evening, the main event is free outdoor concerts, but if loud music isn’t your style, many neighbourhoods host quieter “cabane à sucre” (sugar shack) style picnics. we can teach grandkids a simple French song, and everyone can wave the blue-and-white fleur DeLise flag. A festive, French-flavoured celebration that feels like a vacation without leaving Canada.

Canadian Multiculturalism Day (June 27)

Canadians are very proud of the fact we are a multicultural country, not a melting pot.
This is a day to celebrate the idea of Canada as a global village in your own town. This day features food trucks, dance troupes, and craft booths representing cultures from around the world. Seniors will love the “passport” activities (stamp a card at each booth for a small prize) and the accessible seating near main stages. In many cities and towns you can sample small bites from Ukraine, India, Italy, the Philippines, and beyond, all in one afternoon. Young kids get their faces painted while teens try drumming workshops. It’s a sunny, sensory-friendly celebration of “everyone belongs here.”

Key June Themes to Explore All Month Long

Pride Month (All June), Many Pride events now feature daytime “Seniors & Allies” picnics, quiet historical exhibits at local archives, and accessible parade viewing zones. Grandparents who remember a less accepting time can witness the joy of younger generations celebrating freely. Bring a lawn chair, wear a little rainbow pin, and soak in the love and music.

Summer Solstice (June 21), The longest day of the year is perfect for an early evening “golden hour” stroll with the grandkids. Many botanical gardens and conservation areas offer free entry after 5 PM. Or simply find a bench facing west, share a popsicle, and watch the sun set as late as 9 PM. Zero rush, all wonder.

Eid al-Adha (tentative, mid-to-late June), Mosques and Islamic community centres across Canada welcome neighbours of all ages to Eid prayers and festivals. Look for open houses with free treats like baklava or date cookies, and often a small petting zoo (the kids’ favourite). A heartwarming way to celebrate generosity and family. Even if the main prayer day falls in late May, many Canadian Muslim communities host open houses, food fairs, and family gatherings during the first week of June. Seniors are treated with special warmth, expect reserved seating, tea and dates served to your chair, and volunteers happy to explain traditions. Grandchildren will love the henna painting and the chance to pet sheep or goats at the community farm visit. Non‑Muslim visitors are always welcome; just bring a smile and an appetite for biryani, baklava, and butter cookies. A beautiful way to celebrate generosity across generations

Easter Monday (June 1, 2026, shifted observation?)

A gentle, reflective day that sometimes surprises people when it lands in June.
Easter Monday is observed as a federal holiday in Canada, though it usually falls in March or April. However, depending on the liturgical calendar, some years see Easter Monday shift. The Canada Revenue Agency and Canada Post both list Easter Monday (April 6, 2026) as a recognized holiday. While it’s not a loud celebration, it offers a quiet opportunity for us to enjoy a peaceful tea with family, attend a gentle church service, or simply relish a bonus day of togetherness without rush or crowds.

Civic Holiday / Natal Day / British Columbia Day / New Brunswick Day (August 3, 2026,

This is a summer-long weekend that feels like a second Canada Day.
While this holiday technically falls in August, many start planning their June getaways for this beloved long weekend. Known by different names, Civic Holiday in Ontario and Manitoba, Natal Day in Nova Scotia and PEI, British Columbia Day in BC, New Brunswick Day in NB, and Heritage Day in Alberta, it’s a celebration of local pride and summer fun. Encourage seniors to book June trips that lead into July, or simply note it as the "grand finale" of early summer celebrations. Expect parades, community barbecues, lawn chair-friendly fireworks, and accessible park concerts.

Summer Fridays (Starting June 26, 2026)

If you are working this is a work perk that’s become a beloved seasonal tradition.
Many universities and offices in Quebec (and increasingly across Canada) observe “Summer Fridays” starting in late June. While not an official holiday, this means lighter traffic and more families heading out for early weekend adventures.

We can take advantage of quieter museums, earlier dinner specials, and less crowded parks on these afternoons. It’s the perfect time to meet a working grandchild for a 2 PM ice cream or an early bird patio dinner before the Friday rush.

National Seniors Month, While not a statutory holiday, several provinces recognize June as Seniors Month, celebrating the contributions of older adults. You've earned the spotlight, now let's shine it together.
June isn't just for graduates; it's for everyone who's gathered decades of stories. Local libraries, community centres, and parks offer free or low‑cost events tailored to older adults: chair yoga on the lawn, intergenerational trivia nights (grandkids vs. grandparents!), walking book clubs, and "tech tutors" where teenagers help with phones and tablets. Visitors will find welcoming coffee klatches and guided heritage walks. It's your month to be celebrated, so grab a neighbor, call a grandchild, and show up for the fun. You belong here.

Some fun for June

2026-06-02T00:00:00.000-07:00

“A” is for “apple” and “B” is for “boat”,

That used to be right, but now it won't float.

“Age before beauty” is what we once said,

But let's be a bit more realistic instead.

Now here’s a New Alphabet for you to enjoy

See how many letters your body parts employ!

A is for arthritis;

B's for a bad back,

C's for the chest pains, perhaps car-di-ac?

D is for dental decay and decline,

E is for eyesight, can't read that top line?

F is for farting and fluid retention,

G is for gut droop, which I'd rather not mention.

H is for high blood pressure that used to be low;

I is for incisions with scars you can show.

J is for joints, out of socket, won't mend,

K is for knees that each crack when they bend.

L 's for libido, what happened to sex?

M is for memory, I forget what comes next. . .

N is for neuralgia, in nerves way down low;

O is for osteo, old bones that don't grow!

P’s for prescriptions, I have quite a few —just give me a pill and I'll be

good as new!

Q is for queasy, is it fatal or just flu?

R is for reflux, one meal turns to two.

S is for sleepless nights, counting my fears,

T is for Tinnitus or bells in my ears!

U is for urinary; some troubles with flow;

V is for vertigo, that's 'dizzy' you know.

W is for worrying about what's going around?

X is for X ray, and what might be found.

Y is for another year I'm still kicking around,

Z is for zest for still being above ground!

I've survived all the symptoms my body's deployed,

And keeping plenty of specialists fully employed!

June is busting out all over

2026-06-01T00:00:00.000-07:00

Every now and then songs pop into my head. Some just the music, others the words. As I was thinking about what to write for the first day of June. The song, “June Is Bustin' Out All Over" famous musical number from 1945 which celebrates the arrival of summer sprang to mind. The song was one that I listened as I grew up and became an adult. The song is full of hope and is very upbeat. Here are the lyrics:

March went out like a lion,
A-whippin’ up the water in the bay.
Then April cried
And stepped aside,
And along come pretty little May!
May was full of promises,
But she didn’t keep ’em quick enough fer some,
And a crowd of Doubtin’ Thomases
Was predictin’ that the summer’d never come.

Men:
But it’s comin’, by gum!
Y’ken feel it come,
Y’ken feel it in yer heart,
Y’ken see it in the ground!

Girls:
Y’ken hear it in the trees,
Y’ken smell it in the breeze—

All:
Look around, look around, look around!

Nettie:
June is bustin’ out all over!
All over the meadow and the hill,
Buds’re bustin’ outa bushes,
And the rompin’ river pushes
Ev’ry little wheel that wheels beside a mill.

All:
June is bustin’ out all over!

Nettie:
The feelin’ is gettin’ so intense
That the young Virginia creepers
Hev been huggin’ the bejeepers
Outa all the mornin’-glories on the fence.

Because it’s June!

Men:
June—June—June—

All:
Jest because it’s June—June—June!

Nettie:
Fresh and alive and gay and young,
June is a love song, sweetly sung.

All:
June is bustin’ out all over!

1^st Man:
The saplin’s are bustin’ out with sap!

1^st Girl:
Love he’s found my brother, Junior!

2^nd Man:
And my sister’s even lunier!

2^nd Girl:
And my ma is gettin’ kittenish with Pap!

All:
June is bustin’ out all over!

Nettie:
To ladies the men are payin’ court.
Lotsa ships are kept at anchor
Jest because the captains hanker
Fer a comfort they ken only get in port!

All:
Because it’s June!
June—June—June—
Jest because it’s June—June—June!

Nettie:
June makes the bay look bright and new,
Sails gleamin’ white on sunlit blue.

Carrie:
June is bustin’ out all over!
The ocean is full of Jacks and Jills.
With her little tail a-swishin’
Ev’ry lady fish is wishin’
That a male would come and grab her by the gills!

All:
June is bustin’ out all over!

Nettie:
The sheep aren’t sleepin’ any more.
All the rams that chase the ewe sheep
Are determined there’ll be new sheep,
And the ewe sheep aren’t even keepin’ score!

All:
On accounta it’s June!
June—June—June—
Jest because it’s June—June—June!

Nettie:
June is bustin’ out all over,
The beaches are crowded ev’ry night.
From Penobscot to Augusty
All the boys are feelin’ lusty,
And the girls ain’t even puttin’ up a fight.

All:
Because it’s June!
June—June—June—
Jest because it’s June—June—June!

Nettie:
June is bustin’ out all over!

All:
The flowers are bustin’ from their seed!

Nettie:
And the pleasant life of Riley
That is spoken of so highly
Is the life that ev’rybody wants to lead!

All:
Because it’s June!
June—June—June—
Jest because it’s June—June—June!

Seniors Week in Canada: June 1–7 — It's Time to Be Heard

2026-05-31T00:00:00.000-07:00

Seniors Week is almost here. A time to celebrate. A time to gather. A time to be appreciated.

But let's be honest with one another. Celebration without action is just noise. And there's something we need to talk about.

Ageism.

It's the most tolerated form of discrimination in Canada. We've all felt it. The eye roll when we take too long at the checkout. The assumption we don't understand technology. The whispered "at her age" or the job application that mysteriously disappears after we share our birth year.

Ageism steals more than dignity. It leads to neglect, financial insecurity, loss of self-esteem, and even abuse. It keeps us from being heard when policies are made. It blocks programs that could protect us. And it convinces us, sometimes, that we should just stay quiet.

This Seniors Week, let's stop being quiet.

One in five Canadians is now 65 or older. If you're 65 today, you can expect, on average, 20 more years — and 17 of those in good health. That's not a decline. That's a whole new chapter.

But here's the problem. Rising costs, inadequate housing, transportation gaps, and social isolation are making it harder to live well in our own communities. And ageism makes it easier for decision-makers to ignore what we need.

We want to age in place. We need:

• Housing close to grocery stores, banks, health centres, and parks

• Walkable neighbourhoods and accessible public transit

• Dental care, vision care, mobility aids, and home support

• Stronger pensions for low-income seniors

These are not handouts. These are the basics of a society that respects its elders.

What You Can Do This Seniors Week

Speak up. Share your story. Talk to your neighbours, your family, your local paper. Let people know what ageism looks like and how it affects real lives.

Show up. Attend a Seniors Week event. Bring a friend. Ask questions. Make sure community leaders know you're paying attention.

Stay informed. Canada is working toward a UN Convention on the Rights of Older Persons — a global framework that would protect seniors' rights in health care, employment, social protection, and decision-making. This matters. And our voices can help shape it.

A Final Thought

Ageism thrives in silence. It grows when we accept the small dismissals, when we laugh off the jokes, when we assume no one wants to hear what we think.

But you have lived through decades of change. You have raised families, built communities, and survived things that would break younger souls. You have wisdom. You have perspective. And you have every right to be heard.

This Seniors Week, don't just celebrate. Advocate. Share. Demand better.

Not just for yourself — but for everyone coming behind you.

Because growing older is not a problem to be solved. It's a stage of life to be honoured.

Happy Seniors Week. Now let's make some noise.

At the end of May perhaps new beginnings?

2026-05-30T00:00:00.000-07:00

At the edge of May, when spring is stretching into summer and the days seem to whisper, “Stay a little longer,” there’s a quiet shift happening in many lives. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a gentle nudge that says, something new is waiting.

For some, that “something new” has a name: retirement.

Now, let’s be honest about change. It’s a funny thing. We say we want it. We talk about it. We even plan for it. But when it finally shows up, right there at the front door, it can feel like an unexpected guest who arrived a little too early and stayed a little too long.

And sometimes, yes, it hurts.

It might feel like losing a rhythm that once defined your days. The early mornings, the familiar faces, the sense of being needed in a very specific way. Even if you were ready, even if you counted down the days, there can still be a moment where you think, “Now what?”

That’s the part people don’t always talk about.

But here’s where the story takes a turn.

Because tucked inside that discomfort, inside that unexpected ache, is something powerful: readiness. Not the kind that comes from a calendar or a pension plan, but the kind that’s been quietly growing in you for years.

You are more ready than you think.

Imagine this.

It’s early June. The sun is already warming the morning air. Instead of rushing out the door, you pause. Coffee in hand. A chair pulled just slightly into the light. There’s no clock pressing on your shoulder. No “have to” waiting in the wings.

At first, that space can feel unfamiliar. Even unsettling.

But then something happens.

You begin to notice things again.

The way the light shifts across the room. The sound of laughter drifting from a nearby park. The possibility of a Tuesday that doesn’t have to look like every Tuesday that came before it.

That’s when change starts to reveal its second layer.

It’s not just about what you’ve left behind.

It’s about what you now have room to step into.

Retirement isn’t an ending, it’s an opening. A wide, sunlit doorway into a chapter that hasn’t been fully written yet. And unlike the chapters before, this one carries a different kind of freedom.

You get to decide the pace.

You get to choose the plot.

You get to rediscover parts of yourself that may have been set aside while you were busy building a career, raising a family, or meeting the steady demands of everyday life.

Think of it as your “summer of possibility.”

Maybe it starts small. A walk along a familiar trail that somehow feels new again. A conversation with someone you’ve just met at a local gathering. A decision to try something you’ve always said, “One day I will…”

And then, one day, you do.

There’s a story that often plays out in places like the Wilson Centre Seniors Centre. Someone walks in, not quite sure why. Maybe they saw a poster. Maybe a friend nudged them. Maybe they were just curious.

They sit quietly at first. Observe. Listen.

Then someone smiles. Someone says hello. Someone invites them to join a table, a game, a conversation.

And just like that, something shifts.

Not all at once. Not dramatically. But enough.

Enough to come back the next day. Or the next week.

Enough to feel that gentle spark of connection again.

That’s what change can look like when you lean into it instead of away from it.

Now, let’s circle back to that idea, the one that might have sounded a bit bold at first: that no change happens before you’re fully able to use it for your own growth and glory.

At first glance, it can feel hard to believe. Especially when change feels messy or uncomfortable.

But think about your life for a moment.

All the changes you’ve already lived through. The unexpected turns. The difficult seasons. The times you didn’t feel ready, but somehow found your way forward anyway.

You didn’t just survive those moments.

You grew through them.

Retirement is no different.

Yes, it asks you to let go of something familiar. But it also offers you something just as meaningful in return: the chance to shape your days with intention, curiosity, and, dare we say it, a sense of fun.

And summer is the perfect partner in that adventure.

Longer days. Warmer evenings. Community events. Outdoor music. Farmers’ markets. Road trips that don’t need an itinerary. Laughter that stretches just a little later into the night.

This is not a time to shrink your world.

It’s a time to expand it.

So, if you’re standing at that doorway, half excited, half uncertain, take a breath and step forward anyway.

You don’t have to have it all figured out.

You just have to be willing.

Willing to try.
Willing to explore.
Willing to say yes to the moments that come your way.

Because the truth is, this next chapter isn’t about slowing down, it’s about opening up.

To new experiences.
To new connections.
To a version of yourself that has been waiting patiently for its turn in the sun.

And who knows?

Somewhere between a morning coffee in the sunshine and an unexpected conversation with a stranger who becomes a friend, you may find yourself smiling and thinking:

“This… this is what I was ready for all along.

If You Need to Talk Right Now

2026-05-29T00:00:00.000-07:00

There’s a moment that doesn’t get talked about enough. It’s the moment when a senior sits quietly, maybe at the kitchen table, maybe after a long night, and wonders, “Is this just stress… or is it something more?”

Reaching for help in that moment can feel like the hardest step of all. Not because help isn’t there, but because asking for it takes courage.

Let’s make that step a little easier.

Below is a collection of trusted supports, organized clearly so you can find what you need, when you need it. Keep this close. Share it with a friend. You never know who might need it. I live in BC so my focus is on the supports that are in my community, at the end of the post I give some ideas on how you can find help in your community. Help is always near.

If You Need to Talk Right Now (24/7 Support in Canada)

If you or someone you know is in distress, you are not alone, and you don’t have to wait.

988 Suicide Crisis Helpline
Call or text 9-8-8, anytime, day or night.
You’ll reach a trained responder who will listen without judgment and help you through the moment. Available across Canada in English and French.
1-800-SUICIDE (1-800-784-2433)
Available 24/7, with support in over 140 languages. Operated in partnership with the Crisis Line Association of BC.
Wellness Together Canada
Visit: https://www.wellnesstogether.ca
Offers free online resources, self-assessments, and access to counsellors.

British Columbia Supports (Local and Close to Home)

Sometimes it helps to speak with someone who understands your community and your situation.

Seniors Distress Line (BC)
Call 604-872-1234
Available 24/7, in up to 140 languages.
This line is specifically for older adults. You can talk about anything, grief, loneliness, health concerns, retirement changes, or simply feeling overwhelmed.
Crisis Centre of BC
Call 604-872-3311
Immediate support for those in crisis or emotional distress.
HealthLink BC
Dial 8-1-1
A free, 24/7 service where you can speak to a health service navigator or connect directly with a nurse, pharmacist, dietitian, or exercise professional. They can guide you to the right care.
BC211
Call or text 2-1-1 or visit http://www.bc.211.ca/
A powerful, easy-to-use service that connects you to community supports, mental health services, housing help, financial assistance, and more. Free, confidential, and available in over 150 languages.

Specialized Mental Health Supports

British Columbia Schizophrenia Society
Visit: https://www.bcss.org
Supporting individuals and families living with serious mental illness, offering education, advocacy, and hope.
Pathways Serious Mental Illness Society
Call 604-926-0856 or visit https://www.pathwayssmi.org
Focused on supporting families and individuals dealing with serious mental illness through education and community programs.
Mental Health Support Self-Assessment & Online Counsellors
Visit: https://ca.portal.gs/
Offers tools to better understand how you’re feeling and connect with support.
Mental Health Support Line (BC)
Call 310-6789 (no area code needed)
24-hour emotional support and information.

How to Find Help in Your Own Community

Even if you move, travel, or have family in other parts of Canada, support is always within reach.

Start with these simple steps:

Call 2-1-1 anywhere in many parts of Canada to be connected with local services
Speak with your family doctor, they can refer you to counselling, programs, or specialists
Visit your local senior centre, many offer wellness programs, peer support, and guidance
Contact your local branch of the Canadian Mental Health Association for programs and resources nearby

Sometimes the best help is closer than you think, just one conversation away.

A Gentle but Important Reminder

Asking for help isn’t always easy.

Many seniors have spent a lifetime being the strong one, the helper, the caregiver, the steady presence others rely on. So when the time comes to say, “I’m not okay,” it can feel unfamiliar, even uncomfortable.

But here’s the truth: reaching out is not a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of strength and self-respect.

You don’t have to figure everything out on your own. Whether it’s a phone call, a quiet conversation with your doctor, or a visit to a local centre, each small step matters.

And if today feels heavy, let today be the day you take that step.

Someone is ready to listen.

Mental Health and Seniors 2

2026-05-28T00:00:00.000-07:00

There’s a moment many seniors recognize, though they don’t always talk about it. It’s that quiet realization that something has shifted, not just in the body, but in the spirit. The days feel heavier. The spark that once made ordinary things enjoyable seems dimmer. For some, it comes suddenly. For others, it creeps in slowly, almost unnoticed.

At the coffee table at any local Seniors Centre, these stories surface in bits and pieces. “I’m just tired all the time.” “I don’t enjoy things like I used to.” “I thought it was just part of getting older.”

But here’s the truth worth holding onto it’s not “just aging.” It may be depression, and depression is treatable.

Understanding the different forms, it can take is one of the strongest first steps toward getting help.

Major Depressive Disorder, often called clinical depression, is what many people picture first. It’s not just feeling down, it’s a deep, persistent low mood lasting at least two weeks, often longer. Seniors may lose interest in hobbies, struggle to get out of bed, or feel overwhelmed by even simple tasks. Meals lose their taste. Sleep becomes irregular. Life feels stalled. This level of depression can interfere with daily living, and it deserves medical attention. A family doctor or mental health professional can help begin treatment, often with a combination of counselling and medication.

Then there is Persistent Depressive Disorder, sometimes called dysthymia. This one can be tricky because it doesn’t always feel intense, it feels constant. Imagine carrying a low, grey cloud for years. You may still go about your daily routine, but without much joy or energy. Many seniors assume this is simply their “new normal,” but it doesn’t have to be. Long-term support, including therapy, can gradually lift that cloud.

Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) is something many Canadians understand all too well. As fall turns to winter and daylight fades, mood can drop. Seniors may feel more tired, withdrawn, or unmotivated. Living in places like British Columbia, where grey skies can stretch for weeks, can intensify this. Light therapy, time outdoors, and medical advice can make a real difference here.

Postpartum or peripartum depression might seem like it belongs only to younger families, but many grandparents witness it in their children or even recall their own experiences. It involves deep sadness, anxiety, or exhaustion during or after pregnancy. Seniors can play a key role by recognizing signs in loved ones and encouraging them to seek help. This type of depression is very treatable, and early support matters.

Bipolar depression is part of a condition that includes both depressive lows and periods of elevated mood or energy. For seniors, the depressive phases can feel especially heavy, while the manic phases may sometimes be mistaken for simply “having a good day.” Proper diagnosis is critical because treatment differs from other forms of depression. Specialized care ensures the right balance of medication and support.

Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD) is less common in older adults but may still affect those in earlier stages of later life or those reflecting on past struggles. It causes intense emotional and physical symptoms linked to hormonal cycles. While it may ease after menopause, understanding it helps families support one another across generations.

Psychotic depression is more severe and includes symptoms like hallucinations or delusions alongside deep depression. A senior might hear or believe things that others don’t, often tied to feelings of guilt, fear, or worthlessness. This can be frightening, both for the individual and their family, but it is treatable with immediate professional care. This is not something to manage alone, medical attention is essential.

Finally, there is treatment-resistant depression. This is when depression doesn’t improve after trying at least two different treatments. It can feel discouraging, even hopeless, but it’s not the end of the road. Specialists can explore other options, different medications, therapies, or newer approaches. Persistence, with professional guidance, is key.

Across all these types, one message stands out clearly: recognizing what’s happening is the turning point. The next step, seeking help, takes strength, but it opens the door to healing.

In Canada, there are trusted places to turn. Organizations like Canadian Mental Health Association provide local programs, education, and support groups. Wellness Together Canada offers free online resources, counselling, and even text-based support, making it easier to reach out from home. And in moments when things feel overwhelming, Talk Suicide Canada is available 24/7 to listen and guide people toward help.

Still, the most important starting point is often the simplest: talk to your doctor. A familiar face, a trusted conversation, that’s where many journeys toward recovery begin.

For those who want to take small steps on their own, there are ways to support your mental health while you seek professional care. Stay connected, even when you don’t feel like it. A short walk, a phone call, or a visit to a senior centre can shift the tone of a day. Keep a routine, simple structure can provide stability. Pay attention to sleep, nutrition, and movement. And give yourself permission to talk openly with someone you trust.

But self-help is not a replacement for professional care. Think of it as support, not a solution.

Back at his Senior Centre, George now sits at a different table, one surrounded by others. He still has quiet days, but they are fewer. He talks openly about seeing his doctor, about trying new approaches, about how things are slowly improving.

“It took me a while,” he says, “to admit I needed help. But once I did, things started to change.”

That’s the heart of it. Depression is serious, but it is also treatable. And no matter which form it takes, there is help available, right here in our communities.

The first step isn’t easy. But it’s worth it.

Punny gardeners

2026-05-27T00:00:00.000-07:00

The coffee at the Wilson Centre seems to taste just a little better. Out behind the building, the community garden was beginning to stir, slowly at first, like the people who tended it.

Mary arrived with her sunhat and a folding chair.

“I’m not bending over all morning,” she announced. “I believe in resting crops.”

Across the path, George was already talking to his tomato plants.

“Now listen,” he said, wagging a finger gently, “I’m new at this, so you’ll have to be patient.”

Mary smiled. “Don’t worry, George, they’ll ketchup.”

A few plots over, Raj carefully placed labels in the soil, though he admitted he might forget what he planted anyway.

“That’s half the fun,” he said. “At our age, surprises keep life freshly rooted.”

Near the herb box, Evelyn was holding court.

“I’ve decided I’m only growing herbs,” she said. “At this stage of life, I’m focusing on sage advice.”

There were groans, chuckles, and one dramatic eyeroll from Bill, who had just finished planting an entire row in one determined burst.

“I did it all in one go,” he said, wiping his brow. “I’m not getting any younger thyme-wise.”

From the far end, someone called out, “What are we calling this group anyway?”

Without missing a beat, Mary raised her hand. “The Thyme of Our Lives!”

That one stuck.

By mid-morning, the garden was alive, not just with the promise of vegetables and flowers, but with stories, laughter, and the quiet pride of people trying something new. Some bent carefully, some worked from chairs, some forgot where they planted things five minutes ago—but all of them showed up.

George stood back, hands on hips, looking at his small patch.

“You know,” he said, “I thought I’d try gardening just to pass the time.”

Mary glanced over at the group, at the laughter, the conversations, the shared purpose.

“Funny thing,” she said, “looks like the garden is growing more than just plants.”

And in that little space behind the Wilson Centre, among the rows of hopeful green shoots and well-earned jokes, something else was taking root: connection, curiosity, and the simple joy of beginning again.

Tomorrow Is a Very Busy Place

2026-05-26T00:00:00.000-07:00

If procrastination were a place, it would be crowded.

Bills are stacked neatly in one corner, waiting for their turn. A dental appointment is sitting there, flipping through old magazines. A haircut is leaning back confidently, enjoying its extended stay. Somewhere nearby, a hospital visit is pacing, unsure when it will be acknowledged. Three simple words, “I love you”, are hovering quietly, waiting to be spoken. A doctor’s appointment is tapping its foot. And just outside, a car is making a faint squeaking sound, hoping someone will finally listen.

Welcome to “tomorrow.”

We’ve all been there. In fact, many of us visit often.

And if we’re honest, procrastination isn’t always the villain it’s made out to be. Sometimes it gives us breathing room. It lets us pause, think things through, wait for better timing, or gather the energy we need to deal with something properly. Not every delay is dangerous. Not every “I’ll do it later” leads to trouble.

But this is where the stories we’ve walked through start to connect; some things don’t do well in the waiting room.

Bills don’t get cheaper with time.
Teeth don’t fix themselves out of courtesy.
Hair… well, hair will grow, but eventually, even it starts asking for a plan.
Loved ones in the hospital don’t need perfect timing; they need presence.
“I love you” doesn’t gain strength by being held back.
Our bodies don’t send signals just for conversation.
And brakes? Brakes don’t negotiate.

The pattern isn’t complicated.

We delay because something feels uncomfortable, inconvenient, or unnecessary in the moment. So. we shift it to tomorrow, believing we’ve bought ourselves time.

But in many cases, we’ve actually done the opposite.

We’ve stretched a small task into a longer worry.
Turned a minor issue into a larger one.
Missed a moment that won’t come back in quite the same way again.

And here’s the almost funny part, if it didn’t cost us so much sometimes:

The things we avoid are usually not as bad as we imagine.

Paying the bill takes minutes.
Booking the appointment is quick.
The haircut feels better once it’s done.
The hospital visit, though hard, brings real comfort.
Saying “I love you” takes seconds, but it stays with someone for years.
Seeing the doctor early can prevent a much bigger problem.
And fixing a small squeak is a lot cheaper than replacing the whole system.

We spend more energy avoiding these things than actually doing them.

So, what’s the shift?

It’s not about becoming perfect. It’s not about rushing to handle every little thing the moment it appears. Life doesn’t need to feel like a race from one task to the next.

It’s about recognizing the difference between a pause that serves you… and a delay that costs you.

A good question to carry forward might be this:

“Is waiting helping this situation, or quietly making it worse?”

If the answer leans toward “worse,” that’s your moment.

Make the call.
Pay the bill.
Schedule the visit.
Say the words.
Listen to the signal, whether it’s coming from your body, your car, or your heart.

Not because you have to.

But because you’ve learned something valuable:

Tomorrow is always full.
And the best things, the important things, are usually better handled today.

The Squeak That Cost More Than It Should Have

2026-05-25T00:00:00.000-07:00

It started as a small sound.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a faint, polite little squeak every time I touched the brakes. The kind of sound that doesn’t demand attention, it suggests it.

“Just a warning,” I told myself.
“I’ve got time.”

And that’s the thing about warnings. They rarely shout at the beginning. They whisper.

So, I carried on.

Driving to the store, running errands, going about life as usual. The squeak became part of the background noise, like a familiar song you stop really hearing. Now and then, I’d notice it again and think, “I should get that checked.”

But not today.

Because today was busy. Today had other priorities. And besides, the car was still stopping. That’s the important part, right?

To be fair, this kind of procrastination makes a certain kind of sense.

Life is full. Appointments take time. Mechanics cost money. And when something still seems to be working, more or less, it’s easy to convince yourself that it can wait a little longer. Sometimes, waiting does save you a trip. Not every noise turns into a problem.

But brakes?

Brakes are not subtle storytellers. When they speak, they’re telling you something important.

What I didn’t fully appreciate at the time is that a small issue in a braking system doesn’t stay small. Brake pads wear down. Metal starts meeting metal. Damage spreads. What could have been a simple, relatively inexpensive fix quietly grows into something bigger, heavier… and far more expensive.

Eventually, I did what I had been meaning to do all along.

I took the car in.

And that’s when the story shifted.

The mechanic took a look and didn’t ease into it. No gentle build-up. No soft landing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I can’t let you drive this car. It’s too dangerous.”

Just like that, my “I’ve got time” turned into “You’re not going anywhere.”

What I thought would be a quick check-up became a full brake job. The cost? A lot more than I had planned. Easily three times what it might have been if I had gone in when the squeak first started.

That’s the real cost of procrastination, it rarely shows up all at once. It builds quietly, in the background, while we tell ourselves we’re saving time or money.

Until we’re not.

Now here’s the part worth holding onto.

The car gave me a chance.

That squeak wasn’t an inconvenience; it was an early warning system doing exactly what it was designed to do. It was saying, “Deal with this now, and it’ll stay manageable.”

I didn’t listen soon enough.

And isn’t that how it goes with so many things?

The early signs are usually the easiest to deal with. A small repair. A short appointment. A quick decision. But when we delay, we don’t freeze the problem; we give it time to grow.

So yes, not every noise means disaster. Not every delay leads to a big bill.

But when something keeps showing up, keeps reminding you, keeps asking, quietly, for attention, it’s worth listening.

Because the goal isn’t just to save money.

It’s to stay safe.
To stay in control.
To keep small problems from becoming big ones.

These days, when I hear something unusual, I don’t negotiate with it.

I get it checked.

Because I’ve already learned what happens when you wait for a whisper to turn into a warning you can’t ignore.

The Appointment You Don’t Make, Until Your Body Makes It for You

2026-05-24T00:00:00.000-07:00

It usually starts small.

A bit of back pain.
A strange numbness that comes and goes.
A quiet voice in your head saying, “You might want to get that checked.”

And just as quickly, another voice answers, “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”

If you grew up in my generation, that second voice is a familiar one. We were taught, directly or indirectly, to carry on. To push through. To not make a fuss. You didn’t run to the doctor for every ache or pain. You gave it time. You handled it.

And to be fair, sometimes that approach works.

A sore muscle eases. A stiff back loosens. The body has a remarkable way of healing itself, and not every symptom needs immediate attention. Waiting a day or two, paying attention, seeing if things improve, that’s not procrastination, that’s judgment.

But here’s where the line gets crossed.

When “let’s give it a day” quietly turns into weeks.
When “it’s probably nothing” becomes the only answer you allow yourself.
When you stop listening to your body and start dismissing it.

I’ve been there.

My back was bothering me, but I carried on. I adjusted, I compensated, I told myself I have had worse. Until one day, I couldn’t move very well at all. That’s when I finally made the appointment.

And here’s the interesting part, the part we tend to forget.

The help was there.

The doctor listened. Treatment started. The medication worked. What I had put off didn’t disappear; it just waited until it demanded attention. And once I dealt with it, things improved.

Then there’s my friend.

He had what he later learned was a minor stroke. At the time, he didn’t realize what had happened. He was alone. He carried on. Didn’t seek help.

Three weeks later, during a routine visit for something else, he mentioned it to his doctor. Tests followed. The truth came out: he had suffered a stroke. And because it went untreated, complications set in. He developed vascular dementia.

That’s not a story told to scare; it’s a story that happens more often than we like to admit.

Because the real issue isn’t toughness.

It’s delay.

We think strength means enduring. But sometimes, strength means acting early, before things get worse, before options narrow, before small problems grow into permanent ones.

The body doesn’t send signals for entertainment. Pain, numbness, discomfort, they’re messages. Not always emergencies, but never meaningless.

And ignoring them doesn’t make you resilient. It just makes you late.

There’s also something else at play, control.

When you make the call early, you’re in charge. You choose the time. You describe what’s happening. You stay ahead of the situation.

Wait too long, and the situation starts choosing for you.

Appointments become urgent. Options become limited. Outcomes become uncertain.

So yes, give it a day or two when appropriate. Pay attention. Be thoughtful.

But don’t let “I’ll be fine” become a habit that overrides common sense.

Because the goal isn’t to prove how much you can, it’s to stay well enough to enjoy the life you’ve worked hard to build.

Make the call.

Not because you’re weak.
But because you’re wise enough to listen when your body speaks.

The Three Words We Keep Meaning to Say

2026-05-23T00:00:00.000-07:00

There’s a quiet pattern many men of my generation carry, often without even noticing it.

We show up.
We fix things.
We provide.
We stay.

And somewhere along the way, we convince ourselves that this is enough, that love is understood, even if it’s not spoken.

“I’ll say it another time,” we think.

Tomorrow, maybe. On a special occasion. When the moment feels right.

But here’s the truth, and it’s not a comfortable one: that moment we’re waiting for doesn’t always arrive the way we imagine it will.

I’ve known men, good men, who have stood at the edge of loss, looking back with one regret that cuts deeper than most:

“I wish I had told her I loved her more.”

Not because they didn’t feel it.
But because they didn’t say it.

Now, let’s be fair to ourselves for a moment.

There are reasons we hesitate.

Some of us grew up in homes where those words weren’t used. Love was shown through actions, putting food on the table, keeping a roof overhead, and being dependable. You didn’t talk about love; you demonstrated it.

Others worry the words might feel awkward, or out of place, or even unnecessary. “She knows,” we tell ourselves. “He knows.” And maybe they do.

And sometimes, if we’re honest, there’s a bit of vulnerability in those words. Saying “I love you” opens a door. It requires us to step out from behind what we do and reveal what we feel. That’s not always easy.

So, we delay.

We plan to say it later, when it feels more natural.

But here’s where procrastination quietly does its damage.

Love that is only shown and never spoken can become invisible over time. Not because it isn’t there, but because people need to hear it. Words have weight. They land in a different place than actions do.

A repaired fence is helpful.
A paid bill is responsible.
But “I love you”? That reaches the heart directly.

And the people we care about, our partners, our children, they carry those words with them. They replay them on hard days. They lean on them when life gets uncertain. Those three words can steady someone in ways we don’t always see.

Waiting doesn’t make the moment stronger. It just makes it rarer.

And life has a way of reminding us, sometimes too late, that rare moments are not guaranteed.

So maybe the shift is simple.

Don’t wait for the perfect time.

Say it when you leave the house.
Say it at the end of a phone call.
Say it in the middle of an ordinary day, when nothing special is happening.

Because that’s when it matters most, when it’s not expected, not scripted, just real.

You don’t lose anything by saying it.
But you risk something important by holding it back.

Three small words.
Carried too long in silence.

Here’s a way to think about it:

Love isn’t proven only in what we do,
though hands can build a life that’s true.
It lives as well in words we say,
soft and simple, day by day.

Don’t leave them waiting, don’t let it hide,
those feelings you carry deep inside.
For time moves on, as time will do,
say it now… “I love you.”

The Hospital Visit You Don’t Want to Make, But Should

2026-05-22T00:00:00.000-07:00

Some places in life don’t feel neutral.

A hospital is one of them.

For many people, it’s just a building where care happens. But for others, it holds memories that don’t sit quietly. The smell, the sounds, the long hallways, they bring things back, whether you invite them or not.

I learned that in my thirties.

My mother was in the hospital for over a year with cancer. I visited her every day. Day after day, I walked those halls, sat by her bed, and watched someone I loved slowly fade. There’s no training for that. No way to make it easy. You show up, because not showing up isn’t an option.

And yet, those visits mattered.

I could see it in her face. In the way her eyes lifted when someone came into the room. In the small moments of conversation, even when energy was low. A visit didn’t change her condition, but it changed her day. It reminded her she wasn’t alone in the fight.

That stays with you.

But here’s the complicated part.

Years later, when a friend or family member ends up in the hospital, something inside me hesitates. Not because I don’t care, quite the opposite. It’s because I remember. And those memories aren’t light ones.

So, the mind starts negotiating.

“I’ll go tomorrow.”

“They probably need their rest.”

“I wouldn’t know what to say anyway.”

And just like that, a visit gets postponed.

Now, let’s be honest, sometimes it’s okay to pause. If emotions are raw, if you truly need a moment to steady yourself, that’s human. Walking into a hospital room while carrying unresolved grief can feel like stepping into a storm.

But here’s what experience has taught me, plain and simple:

The visit is not about me.

It’s about the person in that bed.

When someone is sick, really sick, their world shrinks. The days blur together. The routines are no longer theirs. And in that space, something as simple as a familiar face walking through the door can lift the entire room.

You don’t have to have the perfect words.

You don’t have to fix anything.

You just have to show up.

Sit for a while. Talk a little. Listen more. Even a short visit can bring a kind of relief that medicine can’t provide, the feeling of being remembered, valued, and not alone.

I think back to my mother often in these moments.

Not just to the difficulty of that year, but to the quiet power of presence. I didn’t have answers for her. I couldn’t change what was happening. But I was there.

And it mattered.

So now, when that hesitation creeps in, I try to shift the question.

Not “Do I feel comfortable going?”

But “Will my being there make a difference?”

And the answer is almost always yes.

That doesn’t erase the memories. It doesn’t make hospital visits easy. But it gives them purpose. It turns discomfort into something meaningful.

Because love doesn’t always show up when it’s convenient.

Sometimes it shows up in a chair beside a hospital bed, in a room that feels too familiar, saying without words, “You’re not alone.”

And if you’ve ever been on either side of that bed, you know, that kind of visit is never wasted.

The Six-Week Haircut That Turned Into a Six-Month Statement

2026-05-21T00:00:00.000-07:00

Every family has its traditions.

Some gather around the dinner table. Others meet for holidays. And then there are those monthly Zoom calls, where stories are shared, jokes are recycled, and, in my family, hair quietly becomes the main event in my mind.

There I am, camera angled just right. Not by accident, of course, this is a deliberate production. The lighting catches the flow, the volume, the unmistakable presence of hair that has clearly not seen a barber in quite some time.

My wife loves it long. My brothers? Well, let’s say their relationship with hair has become more historical than current. So naturally, this becomes a moment. A subtle, unspoken victory lap.

“Still got it,” the camera seems to say.

Now, here’s the twist: this wasn’t entirely planned. It started, as many things do, with a bit of procrastination.

“I should get a haircut,” I thought… about five months ago.

But life gets busy. There are errands to run, people to see, afternoons that feel better spent doing almost anything else. And besides, the hair wasn’t bothering anyone. In fact, it was becoming something of an asset, part style, part statement, part sibling rivalry.

So, the six-week haircut quietly stretched into six months.

To be fair, this is one of those areas where procrastination can feel harmless, even beneficial. Growing your hair out? That’s a choice. A style. A bit of fun. There’s no urgent consequence, no late fee, no alarm bell going off in the background. Sometimes letting things go a little longer gives you a new look, a new story, even a new sense of identity.

And honestly, there’s something to be said for enjoying it. Life doesn’t need to be perfectly trimmed and scheduled at all times.

But here’s where the gentle truth steps in.

What starts as a style can slowly turn into avoidance.

Because somewhere along the way, the thought shifts from “I’m choosing to grow it” to “I really should deal with this.” The edges lose their shape. The mornings take a bit more effort. What once looked intentional starts looking… negotiable.

And underneath it all, there’s that familiar phrase again: “I’ll get to it.”

The thing is, a good haircut isn’t just about appearance, it’s about reset.

It’s that small act of taking care of yourself, of saying, “Alright, time to tidy things up.” You walk out a little lighter, a little sharper, maybe even a little more put together than you felt walking in. It doesn’t change your life, but it does change your day.

And interestingly, it doesn’t erase the fun you had growing it out. It just gives you a new chapter.

Picture the next Zoom call.

Same group. Same jokes. But this time, the camera angle isn’t doing all the work. The haircut is fresh. Clean. Intentional. The brothers notice, of course, they do. The comments come quickly.

“What happened? You join the military?”

But underneath the teasing, there’s a quiet shift. This isn’t just about having hair, it’s about owning it, taking care of it, deciding when it’s time for a change instead of drifting into one.

So yes, let it grow. Enjoy it. Have your moment in the spotlight.

But don’t let “someday” be the only stylist you trust.

Whether it’s six weeks or six months, the real win isn’t how long you wait; it’s knowing when it’s time to sit in the chair and take control of the story again.