Category Archives: Lifestyle (MC Archive)

Lifestyle-related columns that appeared on Jason Menard’s previous Web site, Menard Communications.

Parenting Lets Us Be a Kid Again

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By Jason Menard

Children are truly a gift. They enrich our lives, make us put things into a new perspective, and help us see what’s truly important. Those of us who have had the good fortune to have children have been blessed with a gift that will grow and blossom as the years pass.

Oh, and let’s not forget the toys!

While the politically correct thing to do when talking about our children is to wax poetic about the profound impact they have on our lives. And while all of those things are true, we parents have to admit that the toys are a pretty cool benefit too.

Having children allows us to relive our childhood. Take a grown man playing with Barbies in his basement, and you’d be ready to write him off as a borderline-psycho loner who probably hasn’t had a date in the past few years. But throw a three-year old daughter into the equation, and this more-than-creepy image morphs into a heart-warming expression of love between a father and daughter. A man lining up alone to see a Star Wars film? Probably living at home in his parents’ basement. However, when you add a son to the mix, then you have a devoted dad sharing a bonding moment with his child!

The most enduring films and TV shows are the ones that capture the imagination of our children, while appealing on another level to the adults who watch along with them. Shows like The Muppets and movies like Aladdin and the Shrek series resonate with our children because of the characters and the slapstick-style humour, whereas the parents are privy to another level of appreciation through carefully crafted dialogue and pop culture references. As The Simpsons has shown, kids will be drawn to the Bart and Lisa characters, whereas parents gravitate to the parents and the social commentary underlying each episode.

Kids let us revert to our childhood and recapture the innocence and freedom we enjoyed in our youth. Many parents will sit and complain about the quality of cartoons or movies directed towards our youth. We grumble and grouse and state that the shows of our youth were so much better. But it’s not a matter of whether or not we think they’re better or not: we’re just not-so-subtly trying to coerce our kids into watching what we did, so that we can justify our adult enjoyment of such childish pastimes.

Recently I was walking through a store and a DVD caught my eye, an anniversary edition of Schoolhouse Rock. In my youth, these brief snippets of animation were the highlight of my day. Wedged between Mary Lou Retton imploring me to get off the couch and exercise and Menudo showcasing its Latin-lite, choreographed vignettes, these slyly produced cartoons that mixed education with entertainment were captivating to me and many of my peers. The memories stuck with me so much that on a trip to Washington a few years back, I made sure to sit on the steps of the Capitol, singing quietly “I’m Just a Bill.”

The fact that I have an 11-year-old son and a three-and-a-half-year-old daughter made the decision to buy it a no-brainer. Not only could I make the purchase guilt-free, I’d also have a built-in reason to watch them! Fortunately, both kids seem to enjoy them, so all works out well in the end.

Obviously, as parents, we want to encourage our children to forge their own identities and explore their world. Just as childhood remembrances of The Electric Company, Star Wars, and the like have become shared points of reference for my generation, so too do my kids need to experience the memories and the cultural phenomena that will act as a common bond with the people they meet in the future. But if I can expose them to the occasional reference from my youth — then all the better.

The funny thing about all of this is that as we age, we’re constantly worried about whether or not we’re ready for parenthood. We question whether we have the maturity and the wherewithal to be good parents. But maybe we focus too much on the responsibility component of parenthood and not enough on the joy.

Growing up is a part of life, but who knew that having children would let us be a kid again?

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

My Dancing Machine’s in Need of an Overhaul

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By Jason Menard

Thankfully, they don’t often surround dance floors with mirrors, because if they did our feet would be firmly rooted to the ground.

Dance is one of the wonderful ways we have to express our joy and happiness, and celebrate life. And from African tribal dancers to intricately choreographed professional routines, dance at its finest can be awe-inspiring and a beauty to behold.

Then there are the wedding dancers.

I admit that, in my youth, my friends and I went to the clubs on a regular basis and spent the majority of the time internally lubricating our joints to better shake our tail feathers. Now, in my early 30s and with a family, we don’t hit the clubs anymore.

Mostly, I don’t want to be That Guy (uppercase intended). Think back to your club days and you’ll remember That Guy. He was the one that was clearly much older than the crowd and kind of gave you that creepy feeling all through the night as he stood nodding and winking to everyone in the corner.

As we age and try to avoid being That Guy, seemingly the only opportunities to dance become social events, such as weddings and corporate parties. So the times when I can dust off my-my-my boogie shoes are few and far between – and that’s probably a good thing.

In my head, when I hit the dance floor I’m Denny Terrio. Wait, I take that back, not even Denny Terrio wants that title. My point is such that in my head I feel the funk, y’all, and let it flow. Yet the funky vibe seems to get a little distorted when it gets to my hips. My body’s connected by soul, but each part seems to be skipping a beat. I think I’m a good dancer, but the jury is still out.

And I’m not alone. I recently attended a wedding, and that’s where you’ll find both the best and worst that dancing has to offer! I’m sure that if you watched a video of a wedding dance floor with the sound off, you’d never be able to tell to which song people are dancing, because we all seem to be moving to the beat of our individual drummers.

Increasingly, I’m aware that this is truly a Guy Thing. You watch a bunch of women together on a dance floor and they look good doing that thing they do. They’re moving in unison, actually engaging in conversation without losing track of their footing, and making it flow effortlessly. That is until The Guy enters the fray. As if by conditioning, the women will slowly start to fan out – creating a perimeter of safety as it was – to give the new, estrogen-challenged, dance the room he needs to do his thing, and to prevent them from getting hurt. After all, they’ve all been moving in some intrinsically choreographed motion and now along comes The Guy – a walking potential concussion with elbows flailing and feet moving in time to a song that’s yet to be written!

In fact, dealing with the discomfort that music can bring has long been a rite of passage for any guy. It’s why Stairway to Heaven was the last song played at our high school dance. Sure, it was great to get that last dance with the girl you’ve been working up the nerve to ask all night. Even better, you’d get to dance with her for a whole eight minutes – or so you thought. Then came that awkward time in the song where the bass recorders drifted away and the first beat of the drum hit. Instantly the tempo moved up a pace and we struggled to maintain our decorum in front of the girl (who never seemed to be disturbed by the change.) Finally, Jimmy Page’s guitar solo hit, the whole song picks up speed, and your careful slow dancing routine is thrown out the window! It’s either break the clench and try some ham-fisted mid-tempo individual dance, or whip her around wildly to the song, riding out the sonic waves until Robert Plant brings it home, “… and she’s buy-i-i-ing a stairway….”

Your ability to handle that moment of time marked the passage from boyhood to manhood. You had graduated to the big leagues – riding the peak of club dancing to its inevitable nadir of wedding and company party dancing.

So, as we get older, the dancing machines that are our bodies start to rust, and the music of our generation moves to the oldies’ station, how do we handle the transition? We do what it appears most of us are doing anyways.

We dance with the burning passion of our souls. We dance with a smile on our face and the joy in our heart, knowing that while our bodies may not be in step with the music, our souls have embraced the beat. And when someone asks, ‘What song is That Guy dancing to?’ we can confidently reply that we’re all just moving to the soundtrack of life.

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

The Importance of a Good Beard

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By Jason Menard

I’ll admit it. I have facial hair envy. I, like many of you reading this, have had it since we were young and it’s a condition that will afflict us for the rest of our lives.

I dream of growing a beard. Not just a well-groomed, dainty dusting of hair along the jaw line, but a full-on, Unabomber-esque, all-encompassing facial flora! I want birds to be able to nest in my beard. I want hermits to come out of hiding and accept me as one of their own!

Of course, I also want to stay married to my wife and not scare my children, so that dream stays held in check.

I’ve been blessed/cursed with the ability to amass a solid growth of facial hair in very little time. Generally I get through life wearing a modern goatee (which is actually a van dyke – true goatees only consist of chin whiskers.) My wife prefers me with that little bit of facial hair and I hate shaving, so it’s a good compromise. But every so often, I get the urge to experiment with facial hair. To dream about what I would look like with a little more growth here and a little extra trim there.

The growing of facial hair is a right of passage for many men. When we’re younger we’re desperately hoping for those first chin whiskers to make their appearance on our face so that we can justify shaving – because shaving is cool, it’s manly, and there’s nothing more a teenaged boy is dying to be than to be manly. There may only be two little hairs poking through the skin, but they’re enough to break out the razor and cut our last ties to our youth!

Beyond the perceived need to shave, nothing signifies manhood more than finally being able to grow a noticeable amount of facial hair. Whether it’s a goatee, a van dyke, a beard, or a mustache, facial hair equals virility! Few young boys dream of growing up with a cherubesque, Dorian Grey-smooth visage. We don’t want to be classically beautiful – we want to be ruggedly handsome, and a beard is the best way we know to signify manhood.

So desperate is our desire to cling to that vision of manliness that we’ll put up with the ugliest, rattiest displays of facial scruff in the known universe. How many times have you seen some kid in their mid to late teens sporting this embarrassing, Fisher-Price-My-First-Mustache growth on their upper lip that consists of about a dozen, stringy, long hair.

Yet, while we all look on with amusement, inside that boy is standing a foot taller. His shoulders are pushed back, his chin is held high, and his confidence is soaring simply because he has a mustache. To the rest of the world his facial hair may be reminiscent of the fur on a wet dog, but to him he has a Tom Selleck-eque growth.

And speaking of Selleck, recently to celebrate a Hawaiian shirt day at work, I decided to take the opportunity to channeling my inner Magnum. I shaved off the majority of my facial hair, leaving behind only the mustache – the most maligned of facial hairs. Yet I could only handle it for a day. To my dismay I was less Tom Selleck and more Ron Jeremy. Yes, for that one day I was the not-so-proud bearer of the dreaded Pornstache! The fantasy in my head couldn’t live up to the reality on my lip.

In our minds, we can all grow the perfect beard or the divine mustache. In my youth, one of the most popular players in baseball was Rollie Fingers. And I’m positive he was revered less for his handle of a curveball, and more for his handlebar mustache. Lanny McDonald? Good player, great ‘stache! Sean Connery was dapper in his youth, but distinguished with the advent of age and a beard. As men, we see how they pull off this dramatic facial hair with flair and élan and, in a follicular leap of faith we figure that we could do the same.

But the reality is that very few of us can pull off facial hair at all – and even fewer can make the risky leap into mustache territory without looking like a used car salesman. We’d all like to think that we can sport thick, lush beards – but really most people out there are plagued with bald spots, patchy growth, and feeble growth.

So now I’ll just grow back my beloved goatee. And I’ll be content knowing that I can grow a nice, full van dyke, even if there are a few more flecks of white and grey in it than I’d like.

But I know that contentment will be short-lived. The lessons I’ve learned today will be washed away like yesterday’s whiskers, and I’ll make my next foray into follicular fantasy. After all, how hard can it be? Right?

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

Folding the Tent on the Idea of Camping

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By Jason Menard

I can’t tell if I’m just getting old, getting fussier, or just getting smarter, but when it comes to getting out and experiencing the great outdoors, I’ll be avoiding the local campgrounds, thank you very much!

I hope I can be forgiven for expressing such a blasphemous sentiment in this Great White Northern land of ours. For many Canadians getting back to the woods is supposed to be a panacea for our urban sins — way of renewing ourselves and getting back to our roots.

Well, I’m sorry but I have no interest in channeling my inner coureur de bois! I have no interest in getting away from it all – in fact, I’m quite happy being plugged in, wired, and connected to the modern conveniences. And it’s not that I’m incapable of camping. I can do it, have done it, and will probably end up doing it again because we have friends that think it’s fun – but it’s certainly not my idea of a good time.

In fact, I can find a million things better to do than to sit and eat in the dirt, swatting away the mosquitoes, flies, and other winged companions that share the Great Outdoors with us. No matter how good roasted marshmallows may taste, they’re not worth everything else that comes with camping.

If fact, when you get right down to it, camping is downright anti-Darwinistic! Our society has progressed to the point where we don’t need to sleep on the floor anymore! That’s why we created motels, guest bedrooms, and day-trips – all to avoid the inconvenience of sleeping on a hard, dirt-covered, floor.

I suppose my problem isn’t with the hard core campers – the ones for whom the word portage means more than carrying the cooler from the minivan to the 10-person luxury tent. There’s a certain appreciation for heading north, far away from the modern world, and testing yourself against the rigours of nature in its pure form. Just you, your backpack, and the open wilderness.

What I don’t like is that pseudo-camping in which most of us engage. The one where we find a not-so-quiet place, just outside of the city, where campers are piled up one on top of the other in a circular formation around the public washroom. This type of pre-fab camping – finger-quotes may be required – is our city-dweller way of getting back to it all, without being too inconvenienced.

It is painfully obvious that modern technology and modern conveniences has completely stripped away any of the remaining façade that camping is actually an outdoorsy event. When visiting family friends who were at a campground, I wandered over to the communal washroom (complete with dish-washing station!) Along the well-carved path, I was able to check out the campground’s other residents.

Whether they were in their modern trailers, playing their hand-held games, talking on their cell phones, or pulling out frosty beverages from their electric coolers, the concept of camping seemed to be getting lost in the translation. In fact, one couple were sitting at their park-supplied picnic table enjoying a dinner of fine cheeses washed down with a bottle of red wine – a far cry from beans in a can cooked over an open fire, washed down with questionable water! If there’s no fear of dysentery, then it’s not really camping now, is it?

This type of not-too-roughing it only cheapens the actual experience for me. We’ve sanitized camping to the point where it’s nothing more than a suburban getaway. Fortunately, camping was not something my wife and I did often, as neither of us really enjoyed it. And in our youth, camping was often used more for providing a more exotic place to drink and party with friends than it was to commune with nature.

But when you strip away the numbing effects of beer, what exactly are you left with? Dirt, discomfort, and the burning desire to get back home to a hot shower, a cold beverage, and all the comforts of home. If I want to commune with nature, I can take a walk through the woods, sit alongside a lake, or just lie in the grass staring at the trees and the sky – I don’t need to head off to an overcrowded campground for that.

So next time I decide to go for that authentic modern camping experience, I’ll simply fire up the grill in the backyard, throw myself on the ground and roll around in the dirt, and sleep on the floor – it’ll be just like being there!

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

You’ve Got to Have Faith

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By Jason Menard

In a world increasingly divided by religion, perhaps we should be focusing on the spirit behind religion that has the power to unite us all.

We’ve seen our current global landscape rife with turmoil that’s, in large part, founded on religious differences. And we can’t even make the claim that this is an unprecedented event, because our world has been shaped over thousands of years by religious conflict.

At the same time as many of today’s North American youth have turned away from organized religion, religious fervour exists as a driving force in our world. Whether it’s recent reports of a Jewish soldier killing Arabs due to his opposition to the Gaza Strip pullout, or Al Qaeda leadership brandishing Islam as a weapon, or fears of the religious right dominating U.S. policy, our secular world is impacted greatly by the intervention of religious influence.

On a macroscopic scale, we find ourselves wondering if religions can truly co-exist on this planet. The challenges and the history seem so daunting that there often doesn’t seem to be a way to find a peaceful, harmonious co-existence. But hope for a better future is there when you look on a microscopic level. Despite our difference, we’re able to peacefully and happily co-exist amongst our friends of different faiths, so why does that grass-roots tolerance not trickle up?

I can’t ascribe to any more religion any more than I can sign up for a political party – I just don’t believe strongly in any one perspective that I would be willing to drink the Kool-Aid. However, while I can’t hold hard and fast to one God and one religion, the basic undertones and themes present in a majority of these religions speak to me not only on a spiritual level, but on an intellectual level.

Raised in a relatively Christian family, I turned my back on organized religion during high school and never looked back. While I respected others’ need to find solace in a God, I was unable to believe – or feel – that sort of presence in my life. But far from reject religion outright and entering into a hedonistic lifestyle without remorse, I chose to appreciate the underlying themes and messages that the Bible was trying to teach.

And, as I’ve aged, I’ve had the pleasure to learn more about other religions. I can proudly boast friends from across the religious spectrum: Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu – and I’ve tried to learn more about their lifestyle and appreciate their devotion. What I’ve learned is that while many of the religions of the world differ in their icons and dogma, they hold a basic common set of principles dear.

Essentially, what most of our world’s religions preach is the idea of being good people. Whether it’s doing good deeds to promote the glory of God or engaging in Shabbat or Ramadan observances to cleanse our souls, these actions are, at their very base, designed to improve us all as people. The Ten Commandments aren’t a revelation, they’re simply common sense.

As I age, I appreciate the words that the noted religious prophet, George Michael, once sang: “You’ve Got to Have Faith.” I find myself embracing the spiritual nature of humanity – one that is often defined by religion, but is not exclusive to religion. There is a spirit that moves us, and whether you believe it’s the Tao, Karma, or the will of a Creator, we’ve all been given this gift of life and we should be celebrating it, not squandering it.

Unfortunately, religious understanding seems to be a limited proposition. There are reasons that politics and religion are topics to be avoided in casual conversation. I have been told I’m going to Hell because of my lack of belief in a higher power, but – to be honest – if God’s going to punish me for not believing in him (or her) then that’s not a God I want to party with in the afterlife.

If I’m wrong, then I hope that whichever god greets me once I shuffle off this mortal coil will look at the life I’ve led. By no means have I been perfect, but I’ve tried – and continue to try – to be a good person, do right by my family, and appreciate others for who they are and what they bring to this global potluck.

On the other side, some of the so-called saved or chosen ones are the same that are killing in the name of their god, or discriminate against other members of the human race based on colour, race, sexual orientation, or religious affiliation. Essentially it comes down to the company you want to keep when (or if) we reach the afterlife. If I’ve got to spend the ever after with the same type of people I try to avoid on Earth, then I’ll choose to hang out in purgatory, thank you very much.

Yet, for the majority of us, we’re able to appreciate each other’s differences in beliefs. Other people’s beliefs are not something to fear, but rather something to learn from and appreciate.

Although I can be accused of over-simplifying deep-rooted issues, the fact of the matter is that we need to rebuild our relationships from the ground up. And there’s no better way of doing so than building upon the essential foundations that religion, spirituality, and belief offer – that of tolerance, compassion, and respect for humanity.

We have to start somewhere. And instead of destroying the world in the name of religion, we can choose to honour whatever god you believe in by making the world a better place to live through love, understanding, and appreciation for one another.

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved