Bud was flamboyant in dress and crafty with language.  If the aesthetics of a running backhand passing shot wasn’t enough for you visually, Bud was there to fill in the blanks with outlandish metaphors far from the confines of a tennis court.  He was light in ego while heavy in wit and admired by throngs of tennis supporters and players.  His apparent friendliness with tour players added a new dimension to viewership seldom ever witnessed from a living room.  Bud’s enthusiasm for the sport was only surpassed by his mastery of vocabulary as demonstrated by outbursts of color commentary sprinkled with euphony and alliteration.  Although distant as a witness to his charm in appreciation, there will be those many heavy hearts on this day who were regulars to his antics and light hearted humour.  A side bar takes centre stage today and is elevated.

It’s time to chime in on this mass media notion that our new Prime Minister must “save us”.  It’s becoming a very tiring message.  Granted – his disposition to date has been one of platitudes, generalities, and macro think as opposed to actual policy execution.  However; in a capitalist system, it is the individual who reigns supreme and is the individual responsible for success through a disciplined and planned progression of commercial activity.  Individuals form corporations and corporations are distinguishable from personal assets.  You are empowered in our system and you are empowered through your vote to ensure that a regulatory regime and administrative oversight by your politicians favours your plight.  You best be careful with your vote because you have four years of partnership with this administrative authority in which you establish the best probability for a positive outcome.   Once it’s done, you can then implement whatever democratic measure in which you feel most suited in order to protect your interests.  The least powerful way is to complain at the water cooler, or at your kitchen table, or through facebook posts, or through degenerative self talk, or from resting on your laurels.  How many people do you know in Alberta who spent and spent and spent with absolutely no cognition that economics postulates that commodities can rise and fall.  In fact, the best way to deploy your resources is through strategic planning within the landscape at hand with full understanding of the rules of engagement.

I had never heard of Robin Sharma and “Who Will Cry When You Die” until a friend suggested I read the book.  Although this has sold 6 million copies world-wide, apparently it’s not available from North American retailers as indicated on the back cover.

This work is ideal for the individual who may be revisiting a career calling.  Passages stem from Buddhist philosophy and the points are tightly contained in small chapters.  This book is easy to read and may jolt you if your current path is not in alignment with your intuitive calling.  He presents concise exercises as means for rediscovery and makes reference to habits worth incorporating into our everyday lives all with a purpose of adding fulfillment.

“Who Will Cry” is a light read and I would recommend it as a forerunner in the self help genre.  It takes broad strokes on philosophy with tips for practical application.  At times, I found Robin to present from a posture of unnecessary authority as opposed to one which could be more suggestive given the nature of the material.

It is rare that authors reference death in the self help genre.  Typically appeals are made to the dynamic of life instead of the meaning of life given the inevitability of death.  Robin references meaning and perspective around the figures of pay and highlights the often forgotten contribution one makes when confronted with the logistics of sustaining a livelihood.  Appreciably throughout, he colorfully challenges readers on possibilities for expansion.

In the improbable chance you are left uninspired having read this book, you will at least be strengthened emotionally with a renewed sense of  Buddhist calm if faced with stressors undeserving of your attention.

Although DeBurgh and band are adept rhythmic melodies with strong tempo, the new “The Hands of Man” release is focussed on the ballad and the title track in its exquisitely pure presentation opened to a sell out crowd at Calgary’s Jubilee Auditorium on Thursday night.  The evening swayed back to the oldies and forward to the story telling disposition of late characterized by Chris’ mention to The Lowry that “on the new record, my intention was to reflect who I am today and the things that I think about”.  The voluminous lyrics and seemingly automated ability to never miss notes while keeping pace to lead guitar accompaniment Neil Taylor (Tears For Fears, Songs From The Big Chair) is remarkable.  For those who remember DeBurgh only for hits “Lady in Red” and “Don’t Pay The Ferryman”, you’d be delighted by the inventory of original work from which he draws.  The assembly of lyrics typically has a message intended and in fact a subtle staging graphical backdrop helps folks along.  In “Borderline”, he draws reference to war and four songs hence he subliminally and craftfully reproduces the chorus line in segue.  In technical precision he hits the highs in dramatic fashion while flowing artfully in songs such as “Where Peaceful Waters Flow”.  Continued references to Christian architecture in the new release may highlight DeBurgh’s apparent mistrust of organized religion in spite of his personal devotion.  Celtic flavour ferments in “I’m Counting on You” and then contrasted in the symphonic style in songs such as “A Spaceman Came Traveling” and “Africa”.

Chris DeBurgh and band gives you what you want.  He puts it all out there for you and displays a genuine gratitude for your attentiveness to his music with mention that Canada exhibited strong support early in his career.  Go see him sometime and ladies – don’t forget to wear red.

I’m lucky enough to have a court practically in my back yard.  In preparation of a first round tournament match today, I headed out to the courts with a basket of balls anticipating some solo serving practice.  Then along came a young boy of about seven years decked out in World Cup soccer gear.   He amiably started throwing balls back from the other side.   While calculating some hip movement along with the toss, along comes another ball.  They keep coming over like missiles.  The kid had quite an arm.  Obviously, the mental side of my serving practice is shot so I collect balls and then start sorting out some old worn out ones since simple housekeeping now appears the order of the day.  I look at this kid and wonder how he’s going to take these old balls home.  He is black and speaks little English.  I head over to the car looking for a bag.  I mosey back and go through quite the effort in helping him understand that these balls are now his to keep.

Next, the both of us head over to visit with an Indian daughter with her father rallying over at court one.  Through watching these folks through the corner of my eye before my new little friend came along, I’d learned that the daughter had some good ground strokes.  I ask if I can join in.  I take the two on but we had to send the boy packing with a racquet to play by himself ‘cause the old fellow is deaf and blind so potentially there would have been an accident in the making.  Indeed, the dad somehow cracked a good ball in spite of his conditions.  Some time later, dad had enough and we all went our separate ways.  I gave the little boy a high five and he scurried delightfully home with some balls to hopefully start his life-long tennis adventure.