Margery Frisch

Category: Uncategorized

  • Did You Hear That?

    When later asked if he was correct in hearing that the wind was going to shift to the South East…I really couldn’t say. I mean, by the time I’ve listened to 20 minutes of the French weather forecast, followed, in English, by every nuance in temperature and humidity level from North Bay to Timbuctoo, my attention span is gone. When the actual marine forecast comes on, I’m thinking about a snack, and a reasonable time for happy hour to begin. So no, I couldn’t say if he was correct in his hearing. Regardless – when the gale winds blew from the North, we were totally unprepared.
    We’ve all said it before – it was the longest day of my life. I’ve said it before, but nothing I’ve endured in the past could compare to being tossed, thrown, beaten and bruised from noon to mid-afternoon, only to hear, on the updated forecast – WARNING – Gale force North winds on Georgian Bay…diminishing around midnight. MIDNIGHT?!?! There was nothing to do but watch and wait. Well, Leon was plenty busy, checking coordinates, checking lines, replacing lines, checking coordinates, trying to prevent the anchor and chain from ripping the bow off the boat. I am the one who watched and waited. Watched while Leon went to the bow numerous times, life-jacketed and tethered; watched as the dingy lines (2) snapped and the dingy rode the waves happily to shore; watched the guy on the beach nicely carry our dinghy up out of the surf; watch the bow pulpit float by me, while I watched the cops come down to the beach (three times in all), stare at our boat, talk to the cottagers and then leave, not knowing what to do to help us. It was, indeed, the longest day of my life.
    They say you meet the nicest people boating, but in this case, the nicest people were the cottagers in Big Sand Bay, who all came out to greet me when I swam to shore next morning; the guy who canoed out to Anerca to get Leon and Scout; his wife and sister-in-law who made us breakfast; his brother who later helped Leon to jury-rig the tiller (yes that got broken too)…despite their kindnesses – I wanted to go home!
    That brings me to my purpose in writing this piece…my husband is looking for a sailing partner – strictly a sailing partner, you understand. One who remains calm under pressure and can really pay attention to marine weather forecasts!

  • The Journey…or the Destination

    It’s boating season and on some of our lengthy sailing passages, my mind begins to wander and ponder. (I apologize in advance for all the parallels I’m about to use in this piece – sailing vs. life.​) We were once power boaters, getting to our destination with speed and efficiency. When we switched to sailing, our power boating friends were shocked and horrified. You’d think we had changed religions, ok, not so much religions, but philosophies. With power boaters, it’s all about the destination. It has to be. You can do nothing, not even carry on a normal conversation until you get where you’re going. When we made the switch, and it suddenly took us an entire day to travel what had previously taken a fraction of the time, we embraced the sailors’ code – It’s not the destination, but the journey that counts. Ah, how many times did we repeat those words to each other that first year, with gritted teeth?

    This expression came to mind as my husband and I neared the end of a long day’s journey, recently.

    ‘Exhilarating,’ said the captain.

    ‘Nerve racking,’ said his first mate.

    Perspective is everything, in sailing and in life. I don’t mind a bit of wind, but could I have calm seas, please, and lots of sunshine? No, sorry…rarely the case. So our crossing from Thornbury to Hope Island gave us tiny patches of blue sky and brief glimpses of sun, with longer stretches of dark, angry looking clouds and one metre seas. It was the first good sail my husband had had all summer and he enjoyed it immensely. I on the other hand, prone to motion sickness and an aversion to too much heeling in the wind – did not have as much fun. Once through the gap at Christian Island, and motoring into the wind toward Hope, the seas calmed down, my nerves calmed down and I thought about destination and journey again. I couldn’t help but compare the expression to life and not just life, but to our spiritual journey. How we approach life, how we live our faith, will ultimately decide our destination. And so, in my opinion, the journey and the destination are of equal importance.

    My husband’s approach – to life and faith – is a constant reminder to me that I lack trust – in his sailing abilities…perhaps, but also in God’s plan for me. Our sailing adventures – an equal measure of anxiety over wind, waves and weather, and tranquil anchorages with lots of time for reading and reflection, help me to put things in perspective…put my life, my spiritual life in order.

    When I look at my husband’s take on things, and then my own, I can’t help but see that I’m too cautious, afraid to take chances. Does that spill over into my spiritual life? Yes, I believe that it does…afraid to give, afraid to love, afraid to trust in God’s plan and follow it.

    The good new is, it’s never too late to change direction, when we find ourselves drifting off the course God has set for us – sometimes it takes a life time. But, as long as we continue learning, seeking and growing, our journey will be fruitful…and the destination blessed.971161_10151503498836417_741170475_n

  • Knock and the Door Shall be Opened…

    safe n soundPoverty surrounds us, and many who hold down jobs, manage to pay their bills, and put food on the table, don’t have a clear understanding of how poverty happens and why people can’t simply pull themselves out of it.

    Imagine yourself a young man who has grown up in the system, finally deciding to break the cycle. You get yourself a job interview, but it’s not here in town. You don’t have a vehicle, the buses don’t travel there either, but you do manage to get to the interview. You get the job, a construction job. Your life is finally going to turn around, you are ready to do this. It’s summer, and it’s hot, working  in the blazing sun; working from 6:00 in the morning till 6:00 at night. After two long days, you quit. ‘Lazy,’ people say; ‘afraid of a little hard work,’ they say. They don’t know, and you don’t tell them that you have no money for food. You work a 12 hour day in the hot sun, with only water to drink. OSHaRE, the local soup kitchen, is closed by the time you get home and you go to bed hungry. You work another 12 hour day, in the hot sun, with no food, and you can’t take any more.

    Poverty is complicated. There’s no one-size fits all image and consequently no one solution to alleviate it. The complexity of it all has created a plethora of government agencies and departments, as well as various organizations all aimed at ridding our society of poverty. Are they working? Do they help? Government workers have become weighted down filing reports that take up more of their time than the people they supposedly serve. And still, out in the real world, the general opinion is, “They’re lazy…they don’t want to work…”

    Safe ‘N Sound, as the name implies, offers a safe place to come in out of the cold (in summer – out of the heat); a place to gather with others for a noon meal – a community within a community. It’s a place where everyone is welcome, accepted and respected. For the homeless, it’s a place to take a shower, do laundry, replace old, worn clothing with gently used; a place for those with uncertain futures to receive direction and guidance, and nothing is charged for the services provided. Overall, it is a community of hope.

    This is the vision for The Space, at 310 8th St East, in Owen Sound, the center operated by Safe ‘N Sound, its staff and its board.  This is the work being done by day, Monday to Friday. By night they operate an after hours phone line, providing emergency shelter seven days a week.

    Safe ‘N Sound needs to be recognized for what it does and what it provides. It is not government run and operates on meager funds. Consequently, Safe ‘N Sound is always in need of donations – clothing (especially men’s), towels, bedding (as they are always aiding those needing to furnish new living quarters). Donations of food and coffee, laundry detergent, body wash, shampoo and toothpaste. Things that so many people take for granted, become luxuries when one is homeless, or in danger of becoming homeless. Can you help – serving on the Board, contributing financially or with needed donations?  Drop in around noon one week day and see for yourself, the work that is being done there. Find it in your heart to make a difference, no matter how small, because one way or another, we all pay for the tragedy of homelessness.

  • Who Are You?

    No seriously, who are you?  Do you know?  I was first a daughter and sister, then eventually sister-in-law, aunt, then came wife, mother, and in the wink of an eye mother-in-law, now happily grandmother!  But who am I?  I don’t think of myself as a writer, but I write.  I laugh if called an athlete, but I run.  I sing but I’m not a singer…I bring this up because sometimes I sit in church and wonder who I am and what I’m called to do.  I hope I’m not alone in this.

    I envy people who know, have always known, what they want to be; what they want to do in this life.  Of all the jobs I’ve taken on, the one I feel I did well, the one I poured my heart and soul into was my role as mother.  Not housewife, not cook, I was no June Cleaver and I think that stereo-type left a lot of women feeling inadequate.  I talked myself (and lots of other women) out of such feelings with the columns I wrote when my kids were little.  I’d take my kids to the park; we’d walk to the library; I’d sit on the floor and play with them; I’d sit on the floor and read to them.  When naptime came, I didn’t scurry around cleaning or preparing dinner, as I was supposed to – I wrote at my electric typewriter – about feeling inadequate and disorganized and the women who read my column would laugh at my words and feel a little better about themselves as a result.  I guess at that time, that’s what I was called to do.  But our roles change as time goes on.  I’m still a mother, but in a different capacity.  Part of me does not feel the things that I do, the busyness of my days, defines who I am.  And a lot of people might feel the same, but sit down in church sometime and contemplate this.  What do you do?  The women of our parish who weekly get together to do ‘Prayers and Squares,’ have a talent for sewing and create not just beautiful quilts, but awareness in us of those who are sick and in need of our prayers.  And the joy they bring to those recipients of their handiwork cannot be measured.  Does that not define, in part, who these women are?

    Those in our church who raise funds for various organizations and the needs of others (the Knights of Columbus, the CWL and Catholic Charities most especially), have an energy and a passion that certainly defines them.   Some tirelessly make meals for those in need; others put together groceries to give out in emergency situations.  But it’s not just the assembling of food, there’s the purchasing, the carting of these foods, the hauling of these heavy bags.  I marvel at you, because all of these things certainly define who you are…committed and caring, in mercy and justice.  So, the next time you feel uncertain of who you are and what you are called to do, sit in church and contemplate those things that make up your day.  You’ll be surprised to find the Lord is whispering in your ear and leading you to serve…in the direction of your talents.