My enthusiasm for sport, especially Olympic events has me watching most of the really exciting TV surrounding the biennial extravaganzas and I get fairly pumped for the running. So there I was, on a fine summer’s morning on August 4^th, watching the coverage of near day old groundbreaking, history making sport events which for me and I’m sure millions of other viewers were game changing and singularly the most important sport events to happen in modern times.

On the 23^rd of August Somalian runner Zamzam Mohamed Farah ran in the women’s 400m and finished nearly half a minute after the winner. In a Muslim-suitable track outfit designed to cover most of her body, she took on some of the best in the world – and lost. Zamzam, 21, was one of only two Somalian athletes at the games, the only female – and she was her country’s flag-bearer at the opening ceremony. Winner Francena McCorory (US) finished first in 50.78 seconds. Zamzam came last with a time of 1min 20.48sec, with the next-to-last competitor a good 25 seconds ahead of her.

Later that day Afghanistan’s Tahmina Kohistani participated in heat four of the women’s 100 metres. Her time was nearly four seconds slower than Florence Griffith-Joyner’s world record of 10.49 seconds. The 23-year-old raced in a headscarf in the national colours of red, green and black long-sleeved top and bottoms.

So, why were these two runners so remarkable? I’m being rhetorical as I imagine the question will be raised in some minds.

Simply stated, these two women, and a few other Muslim women like them who participated in these particular games come from the most divided and repressive societies on the planet, whose populations made it all but impossible for these brave young competitors to consider these life threatening undertakings and the prejudice they experienced at home was repeated by many along their lengthy roads as they travelled to these games. But while the roar of supportive noise Kohistani experienced in the Olympic Stadium demonstrated widespread western acceptance it contrasted deeply to the abuse she received from men while training in Kabul. Her fight and those of her Muslim sisters in sport is far from over. They need our support. They need voices from the enlightened areas of this planet to scream open cracks in the foundations of religious and cultural bias which so starkly divide the genders and repress female human beings.

We, as human kind have had to fight for enlightenment through all of history in order that the human race elevate itself from the muck so that one day we may collectively attain peace and perfection of mind. That is our highest aspiration. We have come a long way. Even after world slave trades, civil wars and race riots however some still espouse and support inequality amongst races. After the crusades, the Spanish inquisition, the Jewish genocide and 911 terrorist activities still there are those who claim a balanced state of mind and forward the idea of some religions having validity but not others. And how many put forward the ideas of inequality amongst the genders, that most ubiquitous and ancient prejudicial failing of human kind? Sadly, too many.

100 metres, 400 metres, run girls, yours are the longest tracks. Now however we must make this race a relay. Others, we, the enlightened will carry the torch from here in, thanks for blazing such a trail.

I had my dog to the veterinarian recently. It was the second time in two months, the first was the result of his propensity to eat anything, he developed pancreatitis. This second thing was as a result of his irrepressible urge to socialize with other dogs, he ran into the path of an approaching car to get at another dog that was being walked down the road. In those two episodes the question of the animals discipline comes to question. Indeed. He’s a great dog, loves to please but at times is completely overtaken by his more base desires – greed and lust; a dog at heart.

So, there I was again in the vets office, hoping the bones were not fractured, which they were not thankfully. Coming out of the office into the lobby of the facility my dog made directly for an old small hound with long ears, a thing that had long unworn, un-clipped claws, evidence of neglect, which fell sideways to accommodate the tread of the paws. This poor tired old thing had a teardrop shaped growth hanging from the lower right eyelid, however its eyes were still those of a warm loving animal and the gentleness of it’s soul was transparent through it’s look, unmarred by this thing hanging there. There were sore weeping patches with similar small growths along it’s right forelimb too, making it a sort of pariah there in the waiting room. The guardians, two large fellows seemingly of middle age, short or no hair, well muscled, working class men hardened to the reality before them steeled their emotions for the task at hand.

The dog whined to me as if I were its last hope. It would not settle until I came over to rub behind its ears and soothe it. It gazed at me with the certain knowledge that whatever it was here for it was not good. The mood of the two men betrayed that, these big chaps who had likely never talked to it the way they were doing now, that air of finality, that closeted emotion.

There is a common belief amongst people that they are superior thinkers to animals. While this is true for some of the higher brain functions in humans the most accurate readings of intent in living beings are not those observed in or by humans at all. They are instinctual, done at a more base level and other animals know immediately what another being intends. Dogs are better at this than humans because humans lie, they act and they hide. Dogs don’t. Dogs see everything just as it is. In this way they are clearer thinkers than humans because they don’t waste time with subterfuge, with deceit. A dogs intent, or for that matter that of a horse, a cat, a bear, a moose and any other of our kin is clearly evident in their eyes and expression. When that animal looked at me I knew right away that if fully understood the reason it was there. It’s just that it had that last hope in seeing me, a stranger with sympathetic eyes and a soothing tone that there might be some way out of its fate.

It was pulled to the doctors office by the young receptionist with the help and encouragement of both men, and resisted of course, but as if to admit fate had no recourse dutifully the aged hound went the last steps on its own. The men were visibly emotional now, not given to weeping yet, but tears were starting to well in the eyes, their swallowing constricted by that lump in the throat. Those men just wanted out.

The last correspondence to me suggested that the arrangements had been made and theirs was a task to simply bring Marie to the guillotine, not the purser and not the ruler, simply the labour force, the front line workers who face the task head on.

The young receptionist’s last question to them; “Do you want the leash back?”

The answer: “No”.

None of us want the leash back, but it comes nevertheless with the dog.

What shows! What spectacles! Indeed “spectacles” seems to understate these events. I can’t wait for the Olympics, summer or winter to come round. I wait in anticipation for what I consider to be the biggest shows on earth. There has not been, is not, and won’t likely ever be bigger show events than those opening and closing ceremonies! It’s like Circue du Soleil meets Rock ‘ n Roll super shows and it’s all jumped up on steroids for a worldwide audience.

So I wonder how it is anyone could be in critical of these massive unwieldy largely volunteer extravaganzas. I mention this as I heard someone detracting from the most recent London opening ceremonies because they don’t care much for Paul McCartney!

I want to say “ Didn’t you see the rest? Doesn’t it amaze you that one person has been able to create a song, and 46 years later is able to get 80,000 people in one venue to sing along with it? Never mind the approximately 1 billion watching it through their tele’s humming along in unison. Doesn’t this whole thing astound you? Don’t you get the cold shivers watching 10 thousand volunteers working like parts of a huge machine to carry this off ? Think of the rehearsals, the organization, the creation, the writing, the costuming, the set, stage and venue construction, the lighting and fireworks! Think of this massive human endeavour for a brief moment to entertain you and I.”

All this too as a reminder that we are one world, one community, and while the architects of conflict plot to bugger us over border and profit, religion and race, this is one civil event in which the whole world participates and levels us all to exemplify the best humanity has to offer one another.

The closing ceremonies too were a great event, but if you chance a comparison to the opening two weeks previous be reminded that the day before they put that massive stage and set in place, soccer games were still being played on that field. No time for rehearsals. It gives me a slight pause to reflect.

As a person who has spent 40 years of his life in entertaining folks, playing music, singing, writing, joking and acting, I am humbled by these events. To consider what it is to entertain on a world stage one might just as well hope to circumnavigate the oceans in a kayak. I don’t know where to start. I’m so full of inspiration and so reduced in my insignificance at the same interval.

May we always let the games begin…with a great big show! Thank you Brits, these last two shows were really incredible. Next…Russia, then Brazil! I can’t wait.

“My dear”, “Dear Jeeses”, and “I could eat you” are terms of endearment.(though that last one now is grossly misinterpreted)

I know I shouldn’t have to explain it, I know, but the next time I’m in Europe, Asia, or to Canada and some smarmy French person or some upity Brit, or some cocky Italian gets upset with me over a misunderstanding like ” Dear Jeeses – that’s coffee!”,  or, “Mind now Numb nuts you don’t swell up and break out in Naples” I’m going to take a hissy fit and render the fat off ‘em with a line of oaths that could scald the arse off of St. Peter. Now. The rest of ya, straighten up!

Talking about stundarses!  Jeeses we got to go straighten up Ontario and Alberta now. Will this job never end?

I use studded tires in the winter exclusively, and insist that all the people I know and love use them too and frig the pavement. We can look after that some other time. When you need the studs, the profuse sweating isn’t necessary. The hands don’t need to grip the wheel quite so hard, you can apply the brakes and have the vehicle slow down… unlike those skiis they call “all season radials!”

Now there’s a lie for you hey? Built right into the name “All Season”, ya right! If you keep your car parked in the winter maybe! Not in Newfoundland buddy! Maybe in California, not here!

If fate hadn’t destined that people in this province congregated primarily on the North East Avalon, we’d have a sensible airport – Gander. However, no, they want one in the weather trap called Torbay, and they are numerous enough to have what they want, indeed if Danny has his way all people in the province (clear of those required to keep Muskrat Falls generating station going) will live in Southlands and he will be some sort of Duke or Lord. That’s another matter.

In the past 20 years I’ve had to travel to St. Johns to fly to destinations because they near flattened any prospects of getting out of Gander. My work requires that I travel mostly in Winter, Spring and Autumn, and I can safely say that every time I’m shooting a 50 / 50 likelihood of actually departing from Torbay on time, or indeed at all. And if  flying back in to that pot of soup the same statistic applies. Meanwhile Gander continues to operate with scarce a snow or fog day through the year! Not quite logical is it?

My topic however is tires. The consequence in having to use this 280km driveway to the airport is that I’ve retained my life only by prayer and luck. Skill plays only a little part in something as deviant as navigating the Doe Hills in January. There we were just last week in what was later labelled a “Weather Ninja”! This is what I experienced: I started away at 8:40am for a 1:30pm flight. Normally I can do the drive in less than three hours. Some snow was falling, forecasters said 5 to 10 cm and light wind. Well, that’s a comfortable drive down a country lane here in this part of the world, so off I go. By the time I got to Whitbourne I was late for boarding and following a Tractor Trailer truck. I could seet its outline only when it turned and I could see its side lights. Everything on the back was obscured by the accumulated snow sent up in eddies, pitching all over back making the thing as camouflaged as a bed sheet on snow. Even the tail-lights of the thing were completely obscured. The winds had picked up to 70 and 80 and whiteouts made it impossible to see anything! If I got too close I could run up under the thing, if I got too far behind I’d lose him. The driver of the rig was encountering the same difficulties with vehicles in front of him. Only the prospect of losing a flight kept me going, though in retrospect I should have realized the flight would be cancelled. I got to St. Johns at 2:15pm. That is 5.5 hours.

There had been strings of cars, drivers simply pulled over. A Dept.. of Highways plough truck loaded with sand had driven off the indistinguishable edge and into the ditch. Vehicles by the hundred had pulled off. I kept going. We (Wayne my buddy was with me) counted 26 vehicles which had shot off into the snowbanks or had stalled going upgrade.. We were going slow enough to see that most had tires that were stud-less, or were all season radials. That at least, I had taken care of last October when I had studded winter tires mounted on the rims of my vehicle – the one thing I could do to insure my safety. The rest was up to our maker so to speak.

Only a few times every winter does one need them, but having them is worth all the saved worry and worn pavement in the province. So, to you smug condescending individuals who would argue that we all should use stud-less tires,  check into just where you live,  ask yourself if you’ve done everything to insure your safety and that of your passengers as well as the vehicle that you’re sliding toward at 90km per hour, just before you check out because when you go knockin’ on heaven’s door you may be taken to task on that.