Tuesday, July 23, 2013
On the one hand it's great to run basketball camps, give our and other kids a chance to be immersed in a fun and positive learning environment that I get to control. On the other hand, it's hard to not want to get outside, get away from town, go to Point Roberts, go on the boat, camp...enjoy the beautiful but short summer season as much as possible. On a gloomy November morning, spending all day in a gym isn't how I usually daydream the the return of summer.
For the last couple of years, I've run 1 week of camp. This year it sold out (any more than 32 in the gym gets to be too chaotic) in a few minutes, and I decided to trade a little more sunshine for the hardwood this year.
I had a fantastic crew of guys working with me...Joey Vickery, Navi Sekhon, Casey Archibald, Josh Bowie, Tommy Nixon, Bira Bindra and Geoff Pippus all helped put on a great camp. The players got great coaching, and seemed to love the experience.
Joey stayed with us for the 2 weeks. Because we hadn't spent enough time in the gym already, Joey and I played pick up games with the UBC team, my Police Fire games team (getting ready for Vegas in August), down at Kits beach and Dunbar community centre. It was great playing with Joey again, who at 46 is still able to control a game like no one else around here.
I also brought down the barbeque, beers and a volleyball net to Kits beach and played a game with some of the other coaches from our camps and program. The kids joined us at the end for some volleyball and a swim out to the raft.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
As life washes frantically around us, like a rushing, turbid river of to-dos and commitments, I can find peaceful eddy in a book.
"A Tree Grows in Brooklyn". On a sun-dappled porch, with a warm cup of coffee in hand, the first 50 pages of this book transport me. It is 1912 in New York and eleven year old Francie Nolan is making her way through one Saturday, from start to finish. I am with her, turning in collected junk for pennies, ironing her father's waiter apron, going to confession with her best friend and bargaining with the butcher for the end of a tongue. She buys sugar buns, a "not too crushed stale fruit pie" for supper and eavesdrops in on the lives of her neighbours, absorbing what she can with her young ears.
It is a perfect 50 pages.
I am not in Point Roberts. I am in Brooklyn. I leave starving Francie's world behind to return to my full cupboards and comfort, wondering what a loaf of old bread, turned into paste and baked with boiled rock sugar could taste like.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Friday, July 5, 2013
July has involved many beautiful, sunny days at the Point. At least for me and the kids. Eric's incredible dedication to his basketball camps (which were hugely successful and only whet the community's appetite for more) kept him away for a lot of July, but we still got a few glorious days as a family on the beach.
The signal that summer has started is the July 4th parade down Gulf Road on the Point. It is...indescribable. We gather up our big group of West Bluff family...
...and watch things like this go by:
See, you didn't believe me that the parade is indescribable, but how would you describe that?
Then, off to Beth, Dan and Matthew's cabin for a magical evening in their garden. I didn't get any pictures of the great food, fun games, or awesome dog show (yes, really). But I did get a shot of Molly preparing dessert to take over.
We made Regal Eagles in honour of America. You are welcome, America.
Ahhhh, July 4th. Now, THAT'S a tradition!