I’ve been privileged to meet – as well as to thank– many who work in the tourism industry throughout the province of Newfoundland & Labrador that 520-odd-thousand of us are still blessed to call home.

As these tourism angels I’ve encountered worked tirelessly welcoming expats – who easily outnumber those of us who stayed or eventually returned – and come from aways alike during Come Home 2022, one thing in particular kept tugging at my mind and at my heart. 

I left this province myself in 1990 for school, and I remained away for 13 more years. While I was gone, something that always stood out for me personally was how easy it was to make friends or how simple it was to gain employment based mainly on one simple fact: That I was born and bred a Newfoundlander. 

‘greener pastures’

Newfoundlanders who left this province over the decades to escape poverty and harsh conditions for so-called greener pastures up-along spread kindness and humour along with the mortar they slathered on the bricks they slung. 

They helped build cities and erect skyscrapers in cities throughout North America with names many from back ‘ome had never even heard of before. 

Newfoundlanders showcased their hard-working nature and demonstrated their tenacious  spirit as they fought wars for countries that weren’t their own and shovelled foundations that helped over-populate mainland towns and depopulated the outports leaving those pretty, quaint clotheslines filed with colourful flapping quilts and nanny’s knitted trigger mitts that tourism advertisers love – empty.    

But those who left to pave the way helped spread the word that the rest of us Newfoundlanders who might one day come behind a decade or even ten into the future would be just as kind  and talented and hardworking.

There’s simply some things that – for whatever reasons – just never change. Whether it’s the culture or the climate, Newfoundlanders will always be what we have always been: Hardworking and, as demonstrated continuously by tourism operators through Come Home 2022 –  focused on being hospitable.

I spoke with Nicole Power recently and she perhaps put it best. “I feel like being from Newfoundland is my superpower,” she said. Power, who grew up in Middle Cove and is now on the mainland staring in the series Strays, added that anytime anyone finds out she’s a Newfoundlander the ice is instantly broken.

“It’s a testament to who we all are at home and showcases how nice we are as people. The second someone finds out I’m a Newfoundlander they’re over the moon and they can’t wait to tell me how all of the things that they heard before about the kind of people we are are all true,” she said.  Our reputation precedes us, she added, and it has helped pave the way for others like her – myself included – and it’s something to be proud of. 

‘be leaving now, mudder’

A very long time ago some young bayman lad stood on some outport wharf and hollered out across the harbour: “I’ll be leaving now, Mudder,” taking  with him some hard bread along with hard-earned attributes of a life raised on ‘The Rock’ and the legacy that spread ‘round the globe, remaining to this very day, was born.

That very first ‘be leaving’ turned the rest of the world into believers of one simple fact proven time and time again: that Newfoundlanders really are – and will forever be – one of a kind.

Pam Pardy, The Herald’s Managing Editor, can be reached by emailing pghent@nfldherald.com

Demonstrations of kindness can come in many forms. From holding a door open for a stranger to letting someone with only a handful of items ahead of you in a grocery store lineup – there’s many ways to spread a smile.

I had one interesting encounter the other day that deserves mention. I was having a difficult few days. Life was not being as kind as it usually is for a variety of reasons – from daily difficulties to individuals who were being less than pleasant. For whatever combination of reasons, it had been a tough few days.  I reached out to a friend, Grace Shears, a woman who knows how to share her light and love with others. My partner also joined us, determined to be part of the solution when it came to turning my dark sky to sunshine once again. 

What started out as a coffee in Pop’s Diner turned into a full blown meal, and we lingered longer than we had planned. While the service was incredible, there was one staff member there, ‘J,’ who had served us in the past and all three of us gathered together on this day knew him a little in passing. 

While we were not sitting at one of his tables, ‘J’ popped by a few times to smile and share a few words in greeting, but there was no indication in the least that he knew why we were gathered or what we were talking about. When it was time to part ways, my partner and Grace argued over the bill. My partner won, and as he went up to the cash to pay, he paused bewildered. When he opened up the check, there were the words … ‘Love you! Meals on me! J.’ 

We tried to find ‘J’ to thank him, but he had gone home for the day. There would be no basking in glory. No hug and no words of appreciation. ‘J’ just paid our bill and went home, looking for nothing in return. While the  talking and the sharing at that table with a friend and a loved one had done some good when it came to lifting my blue mood, ‘J’ had accomplished so much more through this kind and unexpected gesture. It was like a miracle has taken place and we were all left a tad shocked, quite amazed, and a  whole lot uplifted. 

I’ll try to think of ‘J’ as I go about my day more often. While I usually try and work kindness in as much as I can, I’m as guilty as anyone when it comes to slipping sometimes. As we prepare to send the kiddies back to school, now is as good a time as any for an uplifting story, one that sets the bar when it comes to demonstrating kindness to others.

As we send our kiddies out to learn their A,B,Cs this Sept., let’s add a little ‘J’ in there for good measure.

Pam Pardy, The Herald’s Managing Editor, can be reached by emailing pghent@nfldherald.com

Well, things have certainly changed. Fire bans are in place and a forest fire in Conception Bay South highlighted why such a call was needed. The grass is yellowing. Gardens are suffering. Folks are slathered in layers of sunblock as they venture out to face the day. And, because Newfoundlanders love to talk weather, there’s plenty of ‘some hot, wa?’ uttered to one another as we go about our business. 

All time high

Dare I say there’s been a few days – and sweltering nights – that have even been almost too hot? Since one of the best May 24th weekends weather-wise on the Avalon to now, NTV’s own Eddie Sheerr has been chatting non-stop about clear skies ahead, even noting that it’s not just Newfoundlanders that have been experiencing the sunshine. 

Parts of Europe and the UK are facing unprecedented heat waves, he shared on social media, and all time high temp records previously set are being shed faster than the layers of clothing. 47ºC in parts of Portugal just seems a little too hot to handle for my tastes, thank you very much.

Forecasts that used to read like a fairytale now sound a bit like a no air-conditioning sleeper’s nightmare when Eddie begins most updates with “looking like a solid week/weekend with a fair bit of sunshine…” 

Hard to complain about the fact that this summer is one of our best I suppose, though truth be told I wouldn’t moan too much over a little rain. The proof we could use a heat-break is in the numbers. On July 16th Eddie shared the news that St. John’s International Airport had recorded over 30 days with temps at or over 20 degrees where it usually only records 28 days in total for all of May, June and July combined. Good for staycationers and visitors I suppose – if you like it hot. 

We spent last weekend camping at Marine Park in Pouch Cove and the heat was enough to melt the nail polish right off my fingernails. Heading down to the beach hoping for a breeze, we found the water still as a corpse’s chest at a wake. 

With n’ar bit of wind, the only relief we found was in the water. This summer we’ve found a new passion: paddle boarding. With these temps, it’s been great that we’re not that good at it yet and have spent more time off the board than on. Falling off ungracefully is a good thing when it’s an opportunity to cool down. 

Intense heat

This summer the weather has been enough to melt over practically everywhere. Our stay at the Doctor’s House Inn and Spa was all sunshine-filled days and brilliantly warm evening sunsets. Twillingate was beautiful with just a little morning rain to provide a wee wettin’ to cool  down our deck chairs. Dunrovin in Lethbridge was so nice weather-wise we stayed up until the wee hours in the still warm air just listening to the frogs croak-croaking in the pond and the heat was so intense in Musgrave Harbour that we took to swimming in the cool Atlantic just to chill out – literally and figuratively. 

Temps aren’t showing any signs of dipping. 25 to 30 are the projected highs of the week ahead, so get used to it. That’s all we can do. For those sick of the sunshine, suck it up and soak it in, because before long we’ll all be ankle deep in fall slosh from wicked ol’ rain storms and winter slush from a make-ya-sick mix of all the things that fall from our easterly located skies, so think positive if your brain’s not yet melted mush and you can even think at all. 

There’s one good thing about living in Newfoundland and facing this heat: no matter where you turn, there’s water to dip in to cool down your furnace a few notches. No one said it better than the late Joan Morrissey. 

Pam Pardy, The Herald’s Managing Editor, can be reached by emailing pghent@nfldherald.com

The Nobel Prize winning Irish poet William Butler Yeats often receives credit for the phrase, ‘There are no strangers here; only friends you haven’t yet met,’ and that sentiment applies perfectly to anyone you encounter throughout the province of Newfoundland and Labrador.

I’ve had the privilege of wandering around and exploring parts of the island this summer, and have had some pretty incredible yet totally random individuals cross my path. While it goes without saying that those I stay with or dine with and eventually interview open up and we form at least some sort of a connection and bond, it’s the casual ‘ships that pass in the night’ type’ encounters that really are the most remarkable.

The same direction

Walking along a tree-lined, flower scented path at The Doctor’s House Inn & Spa my partner and I ran into another couple. The two men knew one another – they had worked together years prior –t hough buddy’s missus was a stranger to both my partner and I. As the two men became reacquainted, pausing on the path to do so, me and she continued our stroll along the sunshine lined trail.

We didn’t speak at first, just two strangers heading in the same direction, but I’ve never been one for too much silence, so I asked simply, ‘what brings you here?’ She opened up freely, as is often easiest with a stranger, and spoke, sharing she had just found out she had a terminal form of skin cancer and had decided to embrace the live-like-you-were-dying philosophy.

What had started out as a ‘white head’ on her face was now much more ominous, and she was dying. As this vibrant woman not much older than I walked me down the most beautiful azalea-lined section of the property, she spoke of embracing the time she had left. 

I thought of her and her lifelong partner that evening at sunset and my partner and I spoke of the exchange. We sat a little closer and held hands a little tighter as we watched the sun set into the Atlantic behind Hopeall Island.

‘Stay dry, b’ys’ 

Other former strangers turned friends meet ups simply are more coincidence than anything else, like a twosome we almost didn’t meet who were outside the Dildo Brewery gearing up to continue their Harley ride after a swift and furious summer rainfall. Being bikers ourselves, my group of four called out a ‘stay dry, b’ys’ greeting as we approached them in the parking lot.

Of course, like ya would, we got to talking. The couple, from Massachusetts, were touring the island. He had roots in the area, and hadn’t been back in 30 years, he said. He had long dreamt of a return visit, and now, here he was with his wife. In the way it often happens in Newfoundland parking lots, we found out that buddy’s aunt had worked with one friend we had been dining with. While not a shocking moment, it was still worthy of a ‘yes b’y,’ utterance, worth noting how interesting it is that, if you gab long enough, you’ll eventually uncover a connection of some sort.

‘What brought you here?’

From students who’ve come from away for a dream summer job in tourism in the most beautiful place on the planet, to a woman traveling alone from Georgia who had worked briefly in Saskatchewan and proclaimed Newfoundland to be ‘the prairie province by the ocean,’ I’ve prattled brilliantly away with many I had never before met until our encounter this summer. 

I’ve found out about colour-changing horses, chickens who’ve turned into roosters, talking crows, seagulls who act like drunken sailors, and horse-drawn riders that tie up traffic lights in parts of the states. Who knew? I’ve also learned the life-changing value in asking simply, ‘what brought you here?’ 

Sometimes a stranger’s response is the most priceless words you’ll hear.  

Pam Pardy, The Herald’s Managing Editor, can be reached by emailing pghent@nfldherald.com

I remember the stories told by my grandparents about the tsunami that stuck regions of the south coast back in 1929. 

Luckily, in the area that I’m from, the giant wave caused by the 7.2 magnitude earthquake simply washed up over the harbour and went straight out Backcove Beach and back out to sea. Other areas were not as lucky.

I’ve done interviews over the decades with seniors from surrounding communities who were not as blessed. Many who were children at the time remembered the wave and its aftermath. 28 people were killed, which is the greatest reported loss of life in any Canadian earthquake disaster, and some communities were all but washed away.

Besides the loss of lives and homes, 127,000 kilograms of salt cod were destroyed as were many fishing boats, wharfs, stages and other gear fishermen used to earn a living.

Perhaps it was listening to those first hand accounts that raised my caution level when it came to living near the sea, but reading that areas of the Burin Peninsula had recently experienced two earthquakes within a few days of one another heightened that awareness. 

One earthquake registered 4.6 and the second 3.6. Both occurred in the same area 300 kilometres south of Grand Bank. No damages were reported, as the magnitudes registered were low, but those two shake-ups followed another that registered 2.6 weeks earlier on May 31st.

Nature and its unpredictability on display yet again. While nowhere near tsunami proportions, I’ve bore witness to the unpredictability of the sea a time or two. From fog banks catching us off guard while out fishing to winds and waves that come out of nowhere, the sea is something to be wary of on the best day.

Not long ago, while walking on Middle Cove Beach, I strolled close to the ocean’s edge to get a picture. The sea was calm. Not far away, a young couple were walking along the water’s edge with a small child and their leashed pup as all  enjoyed the sun’s rays and the refreshingly cool water. I turned and walked back up the beach then heard the squeals. 

A good lesson

Out of nowhere a wave struck, knocking down the young family and, had the dog not been tethered, it quite likely would have washed out to sea. The child was bobbing when I looked back, and the father – who had also been knocked down –  made a quick grab and righted his lad. 

The water swirled around my toes, wetting an area that had been dry as a bone seconds earlier.

The family were wet and shocked. A good lesson for those who stood around snapping photos, scanning the horizon for whales and pondering the timing of the return of caplin to our shores.

The recreational fishery has begun. Beef bucket loads of flopping spawning fishes will soon be collected by the kiddies, whales watchers will gather on beaches around the province and eyes will be on the horizon on constant lookout for the spray from a hungry humpbacks or a wave of a diving tail – but be cautious and aware.

Let’s make sure there’s no tales to tell that are more newsworthy that a giant mammal sighting off our shores. No one wants to be all shook up over word that someone fluked into a rogue wave encounter instead of feeling the excitement and the thrill of a whale’s fluke sighting. Have fun, but be safe near the sea this summer.

Pam Pardy, The Herald’s Managing Editor, can be reached by emailing pghent@nfldherald.com

From B.C. fires and Alberta floods to tornadoes in Ontario and ol’ blow hard hurricanes like Larry ‘round here, Canada has had it’s share of problematic weather. 

Residential schools, the freedom convoy, gas prices, and the fact that our Prime Minister has tested positive for COVID twice in the last six months – just as we’re about to kick off Come Home Year 2022 – is enough to make even the most positive among us pop a top and swig mightily before hiding out until the calendar turns yet another page. But then look what we’d all be missing out on if we did? At least if your living in the 709, anyway. 

We all call home

The finest Drag Queens this side of the Atlantic will be taking over the bandstand stage on George Street for the first time in history as they strut their finery for all in what aims to be one epic lip sync battle, true testament to how far we’ve advanced as a society when it comes to loving and accepting and celebrating one and all in this world we call home. 

Come Home Queer in Broad Cove aims to be the spot to be this July as towns in Conception Bay North give a whole new and wondrous meaning to Come Home Year 2022. There was a time not too very long ago when anyone who was perceived as being ‘different’ had to hall arse out of our outports for paved pastures in big cities up along. No more, and that’s a mighty grand thing. I’ve had the pleasure of doing some early staycationing around pockets of this island, and all I’ve experienced so far is positivity, love, and a roll out the welcome mat greeting. 

I stayed with Michael and Karen at SeaGlass B&B in New Perlican and not only did they share their home, their grub and their magnificent view with us, but their skill at stain glass as well. 

Side-by-side, Michael walked us through the creating of a sparkling star fish and a glittering sail boat, sharing tidbits of all the other wondrous sights that should be taken in while in the area. I met the gals from Just Like Sisters (they are cousins who look like they could be twins) Bakery & Sweet Shop, I climbed aboard the Irish Mist with Dennis and Paula at the Dildo Boathouse Inn and chowed down on the finest chowder along side some enthusiastic come from aways. I dined later that evening with Pauline and the gals while having a laugh at Route 66 Diner & Pub. Michelle Rowe put our weary heads down for a night, tucking us into her tucked-away piece of heaven on edge of the ocean called The Cove overlooking Cabonear Island. 

If that wasn’t enough, Michelle generously shared her painting prowess and taught two skill-less but wannabe painting wonders how to create paintbrush renditions of silhouetted fishermen mending their nets at sunrise. 

Where we stand

Tyler at Lobster Pods in South River, Jerry at  The Doctor’s House Inn & Spa and Todd at George House in Dildo – gracious hosts all who can’t wait to share their own little piece of Canadian heaven with the rest of the waiting world. 

While I might be feeling a little overly romantically optimistic after staying with some incredibly generous people in some majestic and incredible places around the island, I still think it’s fair to say that, at least in our little pocket of this country of ours, this is still the best place in the world to be, a place worthy of standing on guard for. 

My oh my, Oh Canada! Based on the view from where we stand, you sure are one beauty of a country to call home.

Pam Pardy, The Herald’s Managing Editor, can be reached by emailing pghent@nfldherald.com

Those of us of a certain age know what it’s like to have had a baby boomer father. Those dads were cool. Pack of smokes in pocket with one smouldering from the jaw. They all looked like James Dean with a baby in those old black and whites. In the 60s and 70s, parents had kids because that’s what you did. 

Back in dem days mother tended to the youngsters so pa could relax in front of the television after a hard day. Kids could be seen but not heard and if you stepped out of line you got a spanking. End of story.

Blood sport in the 70s

It wasn’t all that terrible. As much as daddy thought he knew best, he certainly didn’t know it all. Kids explored places they shouldn’t and got into real old-fashion mischief. We skated on too-thin ponds and rode our bikes downhill much too fast with nar helmet. We fought, fist-to-fist, if someone took one too many lemon-skip turns. Skipping was all about who you could whip the hardest with the rope when bored with Double Dutch. Heck, even Red Rover was a blood sport in the 70s. 

Dad never asked where the bruises came from, assuming that we took a knockin’ from the great outdoors the way kids were supposed to.

I got caught twice, that I remember, getting into shouldn’t-be-at-it shenanigans. Once I was part of the guilty crew that sent my brother and cousin out to sea in a blowup dingy built for one. They were four and we didn’t give them as much as a stick to paddle back with. 

Another time I nearly took a spanking for getting caught whipping a neighbourhood fella with a dog chain, though when dad found out my reasoning – the young lad had taken my bike and hid it in the pond – he frightened the kid so bad as he and the dog the chain belonged to chased buddy out of the yard. That kid never touched even so much as a stick of chalk belonging to me again.

Shared responsibility

By the time I became a parent, being a father had changed. Things were supposed to be equal by the gen-x days, and parenting became a shared responsibility. While most of us had kids because we screwed up our birth control, being a daddy was not a bad gig. Pa was no longer the one to be frightened of and ‘just wait until your father comes home,’ pretty much became a saying of the past. Dads could show affection without being considered soft, and cuddle time followed bath time each evening and daddy was just as likely to do bedtime duties as mommy was. 

Spankings were a thing of the past, replaced by the ‘bad boy/girl chair.’ Time outs replaced the chair of shame in that same generation because, goodness knows, by the 2000s you couldn’t make anyone feel badly about themselves – even a youngster who stuffed toaster strudel in the VCR on purpose was simply a good kid who made a bad choice.

Dads were cool because they could chill and no longer had to play the bad cop role. Now, it’s the millennials turn. Video cameras have taken over from old fashioned baby monitors that picked up the neighbour’s telephone calls more than the baby’s whimperings and these days parents know the timing and duration of every sleepy-time fart and flip-over and most baby antics are captured on a cell phone camera and posted to Facebook. 

And I don’t think youngsters get discipled anymore either. Instead, tantrum-throwing toddlers get reward stickers placed on a behaviour chart. Smiley face for a good day, and a rain cloud for a bad one. How curious.

While I can’t claim to comprehend it all, I do smile when I see new dads or meet new fathers-to-be because one thing about this generation – being a parent isn’t a must do or a whoopsie; for the most part, it’s a want, and there’s something about that that makes this generation of dads the coolest ever. Happy Father’s Day.

Pam Pardy, The Herald’s Managing Editor, can be reached by emailing pghent@nfldherald.com

Find Yourself

Newfoundland and Labrador Tourism’s marketing campaign 2020, ‘Find Yourself,’ earned prominent industry accolades not just locally but abroad as well. In fact  ‘Find Yourself’ was recognized as one of the most successful tourism campaigns in the country in almost 15 years  of promoting our Canadian tourism offerings to the world. Whether it’s the dancing dialect, the colourful clothes flapping on a cliff-side clothesline or the much celebrated Iceberg Alley images, the dollars just make sense when it comes to attracting come from aways or encouraging past liyvers to come home for a spell.

The tourism industry generates over $1.14 billion in visitor spending each year, and is responsible for over 20,000 jobs, representing 2,800 businesses thoughout Newfoundland and Labrador. That’s big business and a huge benefit for those who live here, but the real winners are the tourists themselves.  

The stories are many when it comes to locals performing random acts of kindness, in fact The Globe and Mail captured one story in an article they ran in 2018, calling our kind ways an ‘epidemic.’

‘Take mine!’

While walking on a trail near Signal Hill one visiting family from Ottawa who couldn’t secure a car rental ran into Alma. “Our teenagers hurried ahead, and as we lagged, admiring the scenery, two women in sunglasses and summer hiking gear stopped. They’d heard us discussing different routes; they asked if we’d like suggestions. They looked to be in their 40s, one blonde and one brunette, full of energy and both enthusiastic to share their local expertise. We listened eagerly, taking mental notes, until the pleasant blonde lady asked, ‘You have a car, right?’

I explained that they were out of cars at the car rental, so we’d decided on taking cabs to the different hikes.

‘Oh no,’ she said, ‘you need a car.’ And then, as casually as if offering a squirt of sunblock, she said: ‘Take mine!’

Dumbfounded, my husband and I just smiled in disbelief,” the article read. 

As hard as such stories are to believe at times, they are not ‘one of’ experiences.  From playing tour guide for strangers to opening up homes and the rough grub pantry cupboard with a ‘take some with ya, sure. You might get hungry for a feed of moose on the road,’ Newfoundlanders and Labradorians are the most hospitable of hosts. 

So take it all in this summer. Eat the moose out of the mason jar. Sleep in the patch-work quilt bed in the master while buddy and his missus bunk in the camper in the yard because ‘it’s best kind, b’y.’ Sail in skipper’s boat, even if you just met him on the wharf. Jig a cod if invited out for a jaunt in a dory. Dance a jig with whomever offers an arm. And yes, take the car keys. Come on home out of it – wherever ‘it’ happens to be in the world – and infect yourself with our province’s epidemic of often awkward, yet brilliantly beautiful, kindness.

Pam Pardy, The Herald’s Managing Editor, can be reached by emailing pghent@nfldherald.com

At one recent Newfoundland Growlers hockey game, announcer Chris Ballard paused to welcome some newcomers to our province who had also been invited to the game that night. 

Following the formal introduction, those gathered to cheer on the home team stood in unison and gave the many Ukrainian refugees in the stands a standing ovation that seemed to go on for at least three minutes. 

It’s little wonder that Newfoundlanders were welcoming to come from aways seeing how our ‘put the kettle on,’ mentality for strangers and loved ones alike has long been celebrated around the globe. There’s lots to be proud of certainly. 

Commitment to Kindness

From our commitment in battle over 100 years ago as proud members of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment to our demonstration of colour-blind humanity following the sinking of the Truxton & Pollock near St. Lawrence to our hospitality following the tragedy of 9/11, Newfoundlanders & Labradorians have stepped up and dusted off the welcoming mat. It doesn’t matter how you get here, as no matter the method of entry, the welcome is always the same. 

Remember ‘the boat people?’ In August of 1986, 155 refugees from Sri Lanka were found adrift near St. Shott’s by a local skipper, Gus Dalton. Starving and dehydrated, Dalton said at the time that he knew helping the ‘boat people’ was simply “the right thing to do.” 

In fact, this province has long demonstrated a commitment to kindness and the fact that it continues is a tradition to be proud of. The fact that NL was the first in this country to welcome Ukrainian refugees fleeing their country in droves following the brutal Russian invasion should only add to that pride. 

Of course, this province needs workers to add to our population deficit, so it’s a win/win situation. Minister of Immigration, Gerry Byrne, said that many of the 166 people who arrived as refugees had jobs they could go to once they rested up from their travels. That’s great news. 

But more than the need to contribute to the NL economy or population census numbers or the need to earn a living is the need to belong, and that doesn’t seem to be an issue at all for these recent arrivals. 

One Facebook group, Newfoundland & Labrador Help/Host for Ukrainians, has over 10,000 members as of press time. 

Wrote one woman shortly following arriving here with her six year-old son, “I do not have enough words to express my gratitude … I want to add that Canadians, you are incredible people! Thank you for everything!” 

Wrote another, “Some days ago I was in Odessa, Ukraine. Today I am in Newfoundland. Still, I don’t believe how I made (it) alone with my pets, but I don’t feel alone. The whole way I got support (from) everyone I met and I am still feeling it. It is amazing!” 

At the Growlers game following the arrival of the refugees, Ukrainian flags joined our own provincial and country’s throughout the stadium, and as the National Anthem rang out, the words “stand on guard…” felt particularly moving to all gathered. That long-lasting standing ovation was simply more proof that welcoming newcomers to our country and province is a long-held NL tradition we have no plans on abandoning.

Pam Pardy, The Herald’s Managing Editor, can be reached by emailing pghent@nfldherald.com

While the ruckus didn’t bother me in the least, I figured I had better go check just in case I had to fill out a police report. Good thing. I walked in to see him perched on a fairly high windowsill. 

He then leaped – flying quite skillfully for a species with nar feather nor wing –  to the bed. He pitched, only briefly, before climbing back up to do it all again. While many would walk into such a scene and scream bloody ‘get da jumpin’ you-know-what down outta dat before ya dies’ murder, the look of utter joy on his face made me stop and instead simply admire his agileness and bravery while also applauding his sense of adventure. 

Now, I admit I knew his mother (my sister) would pitch a fit if she had seen him performing his ceiling-high flying act, but I looked around quickly and saw nothing that could kill him instantly, so to me, he was simply expressing his inner spirit of adventure and I saw no harm in his antics at all. 

The only thing I worried about in that moment was this: how far would he take things if left unchecked? 

“I have an idea,” I said to test his limits, gazing at the bedroom’s ceiling fan that was nearly centre to the bed. “Try jumping to that and just swing on it,” I said. 

To my chagrin, he actually thought that was a great idea, but a few test jumps quickly eased my mind to the fact that the fan was unattainable during this adventure, so I felt fairly confident in my next suggestion. 

“Maybe it would help if I turned the fan on,” I offered. “Jump to it while it’s spinning and you’ll swing around and be thrown across the room. That would be fun,” I deadpanned. He paused on the windowsill pre-jump and looked at me. While he did reply, ‘Naw,” I wondered if he actually considered my suggestion – if only briefly. 

Now that my own kids are grown (25) or near grown (13), it’s interesting reflecting back on my own child raising adventures. There’s many parenting regrets from the times I tried to be a so-called good mom. 

From evening homework where new math equaled mommy meltdowns, to the countless hours I spent fretting over everything from work, school and life deadlines to dirty dishes, I’ve wasted precious time sweating the small stuff. I try and let that stuff go, however, and simply focus on the times I was more of a bad mom. 

The perhaps near death-defying adventures down to an outport waterfall with a dingy on my back just so a gang of 11 year-old bay b’ys could jump off the cliffs and play small human target practice with a blow up boat from 50 ft in the air hold fond memories.  

The multiple times I turned a blind eye to pellet gun rapid fire and semi-sharp hatchets stuck in a kid-sized belt loop for club-house making tree-downing or ignored peddle bike jumps off a wharf’s end into the landwash in mid-April. 

Wet dogs cuddled in fresh-sheeted beds? No biggie. And who cares about good linens brought back so much worse-for-wear from impromptu picnics or that all the ‘that’s for company,’ grub was gobbled down by dirty hands too impatient to wait? 

Not I – more proof that I was perhaps a much better mom while being a bad mom. While suggesting I turn the fan  on while a four year-old jumps on a bed might not earn me mother or aunt of the year status, it’s no doubt a memory more precious than the time I made my nephew eat his broccoli or tidy his toys. 

And, as I like to brag to those who question my child-watching ways, “no one has died in my care – yet.” 

If I could humbly offer one wee bit of advice as we head into Mother’s Day it would be this: Go ahead. Embrace your inner bad mom. You won’t regret it. 

As the late, great author and well-known mother Erma Bombeck once famously said, “No one ever died from sleeping in an unmade bed,” but “housework can kill you if done right.”

Pam Pardy, The Herald’s Managing Editor, can be reached by emailing pghent@nfldherald.com