Giant Cans

It's about finding the bones: the funny bone and the wish bone.

We're back...and it's been a long story over the summer. My brain has been blocked up since my mother's passing in August, and the creative words have not bubbled up at all. Until now.

This past weekend, the Leadership Thunder Bay Class of 2008- 2009 held their opening retreat - advance - at Sleeping Giant Provincial Park. As the lead facilitator, I encouraged our emerging leaders to look for the unusual, reflect, scrutinize natural systems and ask for resources to dismantle ceilings of assumptions which can hold us back.

As a tribute to their journey for innovation as Leaders in our community, I'm posting this unusual picture of the Sleeping Giant. Our photo of "Giant Cans", was taken on one of our photojournalism walks while I was in "recovery mode" last month. Fresh air soothes the soul and puts life back into a zany perspective. Photocredit as always to Richard Chicoine.

"Giant Cans" was a spur of the moment thought, inspired by a large bosom passing us by on the breakwall. Laughter is truly the glue of all relationships! I could feel my funny bone getting back in line.

A day trip to the Sleeping Giant also inspired the column about Wish Bones, which has been published in the "Country Register" in a number of states, and in the original Ontario edition (September 2008).

Two artistic and entrepreneurial buddies asked me to tag along in the back seat for a drive to the Sibley peninsula. After a fabulous lunch at Karen's Kitchen (worth the drive) and pie at the Silver Islet Tea Room (the best!) we got to talking about presents we've received over the years. My friend mentioned her gift of a wishbone, and I promised to write the story - with some artistic licence!

For your reading pleasure, let me present:


Beware the Wishbone

“It’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?”

My best friend Martha is no contortionist, but she’s pretty good at lying flat on the floor with her legs slung up on the couch. When she gets this comfy after dinner, I know her well enough to expect a confessional. She didn’t let me down.

“Hey”, she said. “Did you ever get a really dud gift for your birthday?”.

With that casual little question, Martha had just opened Pandora’s Box. That’s all I needed to spill the beans, to finally let the disappointments escape from my inner sanctuary. Lousy presents? I had a list a mile long. The tears were long gone, but the memories lingered.

“Promise you won’t laugh? Here goes… should we start with the worst of the worst?”, I asked. She gave me the thumbs up and wiggled her toes.

My top three pathetic presents:

Number 1: A brown paper lunch bag with a 6 inch jar of lard-like face cream, presented by my father as if he had just given me a string of real pearls. At 12, I am woman. Hear me roar. Obviously, this was the present to commemorate a right of passage.

Number 2: A Readers’ Digest Classical Music Collection, a Christmas gift. All I really wanted was the Hit Parade’s “Connie Francis’ Where the Boys Are.” I was 13. A romantic teen, ready to be swept off my feet, not lulled into sleep by the Blue Danube Waltz.

Number 3: Matching sets of vacuum cleaner bags. Yes, wrapped individually. You are laughing! This was the perfect gift for a newly married couple. Obviously, my parents never outgrew their practical side. We were both speechless. Maybe that’s why I still hate vacuuming.

Martha’s turn to bare all. She said:

Number 1: A mashed potato scented candle, from a considerate friend to help me overcome my cravings for carbs while on a high protein diet. I would have preferred a beef scented tealight, thanks much!

Number 2: A jug of Evening in Paris perfume, which could have asphyxiated a family of skunks in the shed. Even though I dumped the contents, I kept the rich indigo blue bottle for years. My aunt really believed that her gift for my graduation was perfect.

Number 3: A turkey wishbone. I AM STILL TICKED at my sister for this one! How could anyone think that a tag on the bone that said, “Happy Birthday! Make Your Own Wish” could make this tacky present into something meaningful. Give me a break! My sister wrapped it in gold foil with a gorgeous ribbon and I thought for sure she had invested in those little gold earrings I had been talking about for months!”

So ended the lists. But not the chatter.

We talked about how emotional we’d been; how a good intention had been misinterpreted, and how long the grudges could last. I admitted to Martha, that I would have loved to receive that wishbone instead of the vacuum cleaner bags. She thought that the tub of lard was a wonderful intention, even though she agreed that my dad didn’t have a lot of class. I countered defensively, telling her that dad only ever went shopping once in his life without my mom, and that day was “the day”. In that light, dad’s gesture took on a special glow.

We laughed. We chewed over the details. This whole conversation meandered into a magical gift in and of its own.

The Wonder of Gifting

We realized, that when you wrap something – anything – in a haven of caring, appreciation and love – and surrender it to another person without expectation, it becomes a precious gift. Whether or not the choice suits our tastes – like the canary yellow golf shirt and matching socks that my husband received on his 13th birthday – is irrelevant in the long run.

We were reminded that day to revive gracious appreciation in our lives. We also realized that letting go of our own treasured secrets helped to strengthen our relationship. When there’s nothing to hide, nothing to guess or gossip about, trust can only grow.

As Martha whispered on her way out the door, “Having you as a friend is like carrying a wishbone around in my heart all the time. Thanks!”


- 30 –

Maggie Chicoine is a professional speaker, Master Coach and writer. Her first love is the stage, her passion is the page and both are infused with a twist of ingenuity. Maggie can he reached at http://www.theideasculptor.com/ or 1 800 587 1767.