Thursday, May 10, 2007
Cookie Elf Wisdom
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
American Presidential Wisdom
Friday, May 04, 2007
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Author Wisdom
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Science Fiction Writer Wisdom
Monday, April 30, 2007
Jewish Novelist Wisdom
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Educator Wisdom
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Ancient Greek Wisdom
Monday, April 23, 2007
French Intellectual Wisdom
Friday, April 20, 2007
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Presidential Speechwriter Wisdom
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Author Wisdom
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Western Actor Wisdom
Monday, April 16, 2007
Inventor Wisdom
Friday, April 13, 2007
Motorcycling Author Wisdom
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Old Guy's Biker Wisdom
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Old Guy's Biker Wisdom
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Old Guy's Biker Wisdom
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Motorcycle Wisdom
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Friday, March 30, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Presidental Advisor Wisdom
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Science Fiction Writer Wisdom
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Lebanese Wisdom
Monday, March 26, 2007
US Presidential Wisdom
Friday, March 23, 2007
Parental Wisdom
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Danish Philosopher Wisdom
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Human-Computer Interface Expert Wisdom
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
Western Author Wisdom
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Got a questionnaire from Old Biker Hen....
Karen aka WyzWmn©
Nickname? And if there’s a story behind it, would you share it?
I am called WyzWmn….an anagram meaning Wise Woman although I have close friends that continue to pronounce it Wiz as in Wizard (I’ve never been able to figure that one out) Wyz started out as a nick name given to me as a joke – because it was opposite to the person I was as a very young woman – originally I was called “PMS365” and that evolved to “Aunty Kranky” by family….although why anyone would name me cranky is beyond me *snicker snicker*
However…as time went on I became the “older more mature woman” in my group of friends, the person everyone went to for advice…I developed a reputation for a kind of advocacy work amoung my friends and WyzWmn began to evolve. That coupled with the fact that I am a practicing Wiccan with a lunar lien and a generational story teller (descendant from a long line of women story tellers)…so get comfy…I’m long winded!
When did you start riding? Or how old were you? And why? (There is no need to give your age, or a year that would give away your age, if that makes you uncomfortable.)
I think I originally started riding as a means to piss my father off…he was an Ontario Provincial Police officer (OPP) for 30 years and as regimental as the day is long…so my version of rebellion became motorcycling…when my means of rebellion became fine-tuned that is…
I went for my first motorcycle ride on the back of a 450 Honda with my Uncle Ron…He is my mother’s youngest brother and only 10 years older than I…at 51 that’s not a big age difference but at 10ish it’s massive…I thought Ron was cool and sexy and all those illicit things that my father disliked for his little girl. At the time, we were on holidays in Merritt BC (from Perth ON) where my Mom’s family lived and Ron had got stuck babysitting me (in those days 10 yr olds had babysitter’s now days they have boyfriends and shop at the Rubber Rainbow…but that’s another story)
Anyway Ron took me on this long ride around Merritt, a here to fore unknown to me and we ended up at the drive-in with a bunch of his friends where by he got horrendously, gutter puking drunk and I had to walk home by myself in the dark…it was a smozzle…my father roared my mother and grandmother shrieked like fishmongers…my grandfather just smacked his lips and drank beer as was his wont.
Quite the scene….but all these years later the thing that sticks with me is that feeling of exhilaration…that elicit thrill. I can still close my eyes and see him in his chino’s and baby blue short sleeved cotton sport shirt, penny loafers and white cotton sox (sheesh, how schmaltzy eh?) and I can see me holding on for dear life more afraid and out of my element than I ever had been before…but still exhilarated, the kind of exhilarated that kids feel when they are first discovering their sexuality…those naughty and nice ingredients that in later life define us. (No helmet either…my my my we were brave and stupid in those days…)
Long story short – we went back to ON and I was riding my own in the bush around Thunder Bay by the time I was 13. My Dad didn’t forgive my uncle Ron until I was in my 40’s…well at least he said he’d forgiven him – but who knows?
What was your first bike?
My first bike was a 2 stroke dirt bike. It was so beat up it was always a wonder when it kicked over (and in those days I had the knees to be able to kick it!) I’d leave the house in the morning and not return until I ran out of gas or darkness descended.
I stopped riding for a while when I discovered boys. Then I discovered men and rode as a passenger for a while. I rode an old triumph chopper that was mostly held together with baling wire and luck. I then graduated to a chopped Sporty with a real 50's version back rest that looked like it had been stolen from the iron fence at the cemetery along with a coffin tank and fish tail pipes. I was young and thought I was smokin!
Over the years, I've had many bikes and I’ve been involved in many accidents, from dropping the bike myself, to spinning out on a lawn and flipping, to cresting a hill on a dirt road in first ride of the season in spring to find that the road had washed out. (I landed on the coffin tank and flattened the damn thing with my butt!) But all in all the greater majority of my accidents were as a result of riding as a passenger with someone who was not in “good control of his machine” so I went back to riding my own.
I rode without a license until I was 40 (shhhh – it’s a secret) and at 40 decided that I would impersonate an adult and take the Canadian Safety Council MC course so I could get a discount on my insurance. I discovered instead that my riding skills were comprised of a clabbering of bad habits and the course gave me a healthy understanding of the need for me to be accountable to my actions while operating a motorcycle…and an understanding that I was not immortal and could in fact die if I didn’t start paying attention.
What has been your best experience?
There are too many experiences to have one single “best experience”.
The phenomenon of truly amazing people from all walks of life coming together under one theme….riding.
All the years I spent volunteering for the Ride for Sight, culminating in 4 years as BC’s Ride for Sight Chair. Riding in the snow, the first ride of spring every year, the first time I had a riding story published, dealing with many years of health issues and not being able to ride for both health and financial reasons culminating in a move to Vancouver Island and the purchase of my current ride (a 1974 VW trike called “the Pickle” as in my motorpickle)….becoming a member and then a “core member” and then an officer of the Southern Cruisers Riding Club(SCRC) here in Victoria and discovering another “family”. Having members of my club work tirelessly and at their own expense to restore my old trike to beauty and safety, having perfect strangers approach me to talk about my ride!
The people, the places, the people, the parties, the people, the road, the people the weather, the people, the wind in your face, the people, the events, the people, the fun, the people, the agony, the people, the love and of course, the people.
Even after all these years – the feeling of the open road and no specific place to go…but going.
What has been your worst?
I broke my back in the early 80’s and then was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. I wasn’t able to ride for a long long time. I was miserable…and probably earned “Aunty Kranky” during that period…stayed in touch with many of the people but didn’t actually ride for reasons of health and finance.
Anything else you might want to share.
I write, have a couple of blogs and write for the Busted Knuckle Chronicles. http://wyzwmnswords.blogspot.com/ http://wyzwmnsworld.blogspot.com/ http://www.beltdrivebetty.com/joomla07/index.php
Why do you ride now, or what does riding mean to you?
Being a business woman and spending my days dealing with administrative issues, I find more and more all the time that the only time I really feel “me” is when I’m riding…even when I’m riding in traffic I feel so much more “liberated” than I do at home or in my office. So much so that my family will often tell me – “you need to get out for a ride…yer like a bear with a cut butt!”
I have found the largest group of truly honest, loving, respectable, trustworthy people in the riding community. For every person I have come across that is a boor, or un-integral I have found a half dozen really wonderful people to counter the negative pull…with odds like that – one can’t go wrong
Words of wisdom, or lessons learned.
My wisdom is nothing more than repeated practice. I am able to “sound” wise because I have (without bragging) had some truly serious trials and have come through…not always on top but come through….I have retained my sense of humour through it all – only because of an undying need to laugh and love.
Only because: "Ya gotta laugh or yer hair falls out!"
Friday, March 16, 2007
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Authoress Wisdom
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Theoretical Physicist Wisdom
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Cartoonist Wisdom
Monday, March 12, 2007
Motorcycling Author Wisdom
In a car you drive a road; on a motorcycle you feel it. On a motorcycle every rise and dip, every change in surface or cant, every turn and straightway, is a temporal and physical experience. In a car you are enclosed, removed from what is without by the machinery that moves you, the windshield, the air-conditioning, the heater, the radio, the upholstered cradle of your seat, the locked doors the surrounding frame, they all separate you from the reality of the road and the weather. On a motorcycle the machine and the environment are an integral part of the experience. Coming home in the afternoon, the sun touches your shoulders with great warm hands. Somewhere in the middle of a long day of riding - especially on curves, where the lean and torque, body and bike angle, gravity and speed, determine the physics and the line of movement - the machine becomes an extension of the body, a melding of what is human and what is mechanical.
- Karen Larsen "Breaking the Limit"
Friday, March 09, 2007
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Science Fiction Writer Wisdom
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Monday, March 05, 2007
Friday, March 02, 2007
Buddhist wisdom
Thursday, March 01, 2007
French (Russian-born) author and salonist Wisdom
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
Science Fiction Writer Wisdom
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Cruising Rider Quote
Friday, February 23, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Motivational Speaker Wisdom
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Journalistic Wisdom
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
TV Show Host Wisdom
because you are a good person
is a little like expecting the bull not to attack you
because you are a vegetarian - Dennis Wholey
Friday, February 16, 2007
American Astronomer Wisdome
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
American Cartoonist Wisdom
Monday, February 12, 2007
French (Russian-born) author and salonist Wisdom
Thursday, February 08, 2007
British Writer Wisdom
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Monday, February 05, 2007
Friday, February 02, 2007
British Writer Wisdom
Thursday, February 01, 2007
British Prime Minister Wisdom
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
American Sitcom Wisdom
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
English Writer Wisdom
Monday, January 29, 2007
Scottish essayist Wisdom
Friday, January 26, 2007
Pulitzer Prize Winning Novelist Wisdom
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Motivational Speaker Wisdom
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Monday, January 22, 2007
Famous Cartoonist Wisdom
Friday, January 19, 2007
Famous Comedian Wisdom...
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Famous Actor Wisdom
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Famous Author Wisdom
Monday, January 15, 2007
Friday, January 12, 2007
TV Personality Wisdom
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Motivational Speaker Wisdom
Did you ever see an unhappy horse?
Did you ever see bird that had the blues?
One reason why birds and horses are not unhappy is because they are not trying to impress other birds and horses. - Dale Carnegie
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Screen Writer Wisdom
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Economicist Wisdom
Monday, January 08, 2007
Friday, January 05, 2007
Computer Scientist Wisdom
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Inspirational Writer Wisdom
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Author Wisdom
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Start thinking in 2007!
Friday, December 22, 2006
Seasonal Wisdom
At this joyous Christmas season
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Seasonal Wisdom
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Seasonal Wisdom
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Seasonal Wisdom
Monday, December 18, 2006
Seasonal Wisdom
Saturday, December 16, 2006
In the Spirit of the Season - A Story
I wrote this story several years ago....but I find it bears repeating:
For years and years I too hated Christmas…too much brouhaha in my books…then I had a Christmas epiphany…no small feat for a non-Christian…but here goes
I always put huge store in Christmas…because I was raised in a huge family and I had believed all my life that "family" is what Christmas was about…My Father’s birthday is the twenty-third and my uncle’s is the twenty-fifth and as a child we always did the big Christmas/birthday celebration…but as time goes on things change and you discover that "family" are people too…and they have foibles…they mess up…and things never quite live up to your expectations.
In the early ‘90’s my Mother moved to BC leaving me to live in the old family home in Thunder Bay. My brother was newly married to woman that put the "C" in control. (and another word that I won’t use here!) She didn’t like cooking when I was around and for many years I thought it was cos she was intimidated by the fact that I have my chef’s papers…turns out she’s just lazy, opinionated and lazy…but that’s another story.
So Mom moves to BC, Dad and my sister are in Toronto and I am faced with the prospect of cooking the whole Christmas shebang at my brother and sister-in-law’s house. My sister-in-law has invited her whole family so I am cooking a 27lb turkey and all the trimmings. Two kinds of stuffing (one for each end) 3 kinds of salad and 4 vegetables, mashed spuds, gravy, pickles etc etc and top it all off with Figgie Pudding…(I’m from a go big er go home kinda family)
Five days before Christmas my sister-in-law calls me and informs me that I am "allowed" to come to her house for an hour between 6 and 7 AM to stuff the bird and put it in the oven…but then I need to leave for the day so she can have some "quality" time with her family.
Can you guess where I told her to put her bird? ~ahem~
So the Christmas dawns and I am alone. I am not answering the phone…and I am depressed….as my Grampy used to say, "I am lower than whale shit and that is on the bottom of the ocean! We are having a good old North Western Ontario blizzard and as I listen to the radio I am overcome both with the concept that I can’t get away from Christmas (it’s just freakin everywhere) and that I am alone. So I jump in my truck and head out to the local truck stop for breakfast. Somewhere where there’s people and noise.
On my way to the truck stop I drive past the Greyhound Bus Depot and while it is closed I spot and elderly man in a summer weight suit huddled in the doorway.
I drive by…then go around the block and drive by again. Something about this situation tweaks my conscience and I cannot get the picture of this man out of my head.
On my third pass I pull into the parking lot and lean out my window. "Are you ok?" I ask. This tiny elderly fellow looks up at me and with tears running down his face says, "I’ll do."
"Well no…he won’t do." I think as I watch him shiver and shudder. So I offer to let him in my truck. I’m thinking that if it turns out he’s got a gun…I certainly won’t feel any worse off than I already do this Christmas.
At first he refuses. But then with some cajoling and conversation he eventually climbs in and I take him to the truck stop to warm him up and maybe get him some food. He refuses to eat but allows as I could buy him a "cup of cocoa".
As he thaws out he tells me his story. He tells me his name is Sheldon Shepherd. He left Vancouver 3 days ago on his way to London ON to spend Christmas with his family. He was traveling by Greyhound. In the bathroom in the Thunder Bay bus terminal he is mugged…robbed…and knocked out. Because he is old school and won’t ask for help when he comes to… he doesn’t tell anyone, his grandkid’s Christmas presents are gone, as is his coat and wallet. He finds himself outside of the depot, the depot closed, in a blizzard with a lump on his head the size of Santa. Areas of his story seem lacking to me…but he’s got this lump and no coat and no money…so…
I am filled with righteous indignation and I insist that he allow me to call the police. They come and after all is said and done I find out that they can get him another bus ticket to London but they have to find a judge to authorize the funds and besides there is no bus running thru till the twenty-sixth. One of the police officers suggests that this sad soul go to the local homeless shelter. I’ve never been there but I know where it is so I agree to drive him there.
Sheldon is quiet on his way to the shelter. He confides in me as we are pulling into the parking lot that he’s never had to accept charity before and not comfortable with it now. I fully understand. I have never been able to look a homeless person in the eye. I have always been consumed with guilt and the thought that there but for the grace of all the gods go I.
In we go. My first impression was that we were entering a jail. We walked in thru the front door to be confronted with locked double doors and a "security guard". Sheldon is pulling back so I tell the guard his story and the guard opens the locked doors to allow us into the shelter telling us to "find Rick".
As we enter I am assaulted by a cacophony of sounds and smells….lots of them not pleasant. There is a riot of color and furniture and bodies everywhere…there are people sleeping standing up against walls and on the stairs and tired used old blankets clutched in dirty little children’s fingers.
Slowly as I become accustomed to the "ambiance" I begin to see Christmas in this room. There are bits of tinsel hanging from dirty stocking caps set jauntily over dirty faces. There’s what can only be called a Charlie Brown Christmas tree in the corner and there are new socks and new gloves on many hands and feet…and lots of the people that are awake are smiling. I don’t understand.
Across the room is the big serving window to the kitchen but I see no one on the other side…as I start across the room I hear the unmistakable sound of dishes smashing to the floor and a resounding "Damn it!" from behind the wall. I peek around a see a harried fellow, in half a Santa suit picking up broken dishes and muttering.
"Rick?" I ask. This frantic man turns to me and blesses me with the biggest gap tooth smile and says…"yup…hiya! What can I do for you?"
I explain Sheldon’s story and Rick tells me no problem he can stay here over night. He then turns to Sheldon and says,"I don’t suppose you can cook?"
"Why?" says Sheldon and I at once. Turns out that the volunteer church group that was to cook the shelter’s Christmas dinner won’t be coming because of the storm. Rick says that Christmas is always a banner time for the shelter food wise…"people assuage their guilt by giving at Christmas". The end result is that he has tons of food and no cooks.
"Hmmmmmm," says I, "maybe I can help"
Long story short…we have Christmas dinner for close to 200. Sheldon isn’t a cook but he’s a mean dishwasher and clean up kinda guy…and we recruit a couple of people from the shelter and we are off… We have beef and turkey and mashed potatoes and stuffing made in pans instead of in the bird and spaghetti with sauce and chocolate pudding.
We have Christmas Carols and laughter and hugs and tears and handclasps from dirty little fingers. By 10 PM I am completely and totally physically exhausted, sweaty and hot, hot, hot… but as I turn to survey the room I have an epiphany.
Christmas is not about receiving the love from my family that I believe is my due. It truly is about the giving.
In any way shape or form. Sheldon passed away in 1996 but I still hear from his daughter Janice…once a year at Christmas. And that’s the best that I can do.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Seasonal Wisdom
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Seasonal Wisdom
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Seasonal Wisdom
The spirit of this season
Is old, yet ever new;
May it be yours on Christmas
And last the new year through.
~ Ernest B. McClellan
