Heroes: From the Ice...to the Heart

My Montreal Canadiens, a team I call my heart, got some tough breaks in the playoffs, eliminated in Round 1 of the Eastern Conference Quarterfinals by the Ottawa Senators. In Game 1, a player from the Ottawa team ran one of our players and our guy was sent to the hospital after a horrific injury that took him from unconscious and bleeding on the ice to a stretcher off the ice. The coach for Ottawa, a man named Paul MacLean, made some very disrespectful remarks about our team and especially showed no compassion for our injured player. The next day, one of our newly acquired forwards - a man by the name of Brandon Prust - made this statement: (the video shows the passion of our coach Therrien as well as Brandon's expanded statement) He was quoted instantly:

We don't care what that bug-eyed fat walrus has to say.

See, Paul MacLean has a - shall we say, distinctive look to him. See for yourself:

The minute that statement hit social media, we were all talking. It was Friday midday, and by game-time, many photoshopped images (including my own "separated at birth" entry) had hit the web. And Dave Stubbs, a popular sports writer for the Montreal Gazette, had posted that he planned to wear his cartoon-walrus pin to the game, as well as present Prust with a 2nd pin sporting the same cartoon walrus.

At 10:30 p.m., a fan whom I've known on Twitter, posted:

"I wonder if Dave Stubbs gave Brandon Prust the walrus pin...let's adopt a walrus for Prust and name it 'Ballsy Paulsy'!"

I replied instantly: "Or just 'Bug-Eye!'"

That started a Campaign. Between posts on her website dedicated to another Habs player and a hockey-related communal board, and both of us on Twitter and Facebook, as well as Dave generously writing about it in his column after the weekend, the Adopt-A-Walrus Campaign began.

At first, we thought we'd raise 1- or 2-dollar donations so that we could adopt this walrus (from World Wildlife Fund, a wonderful cause that raises awareness and funds for animal conservation), but suddenly, people were opening their hearts and their wallets. The adoption is symbolic but comes with a stuffed animal of the species being adopted.

In discussion, my co-organizer wondered whether we should put the money toward other adoptions for the other players involved in the kerfuffle (Lars Eller - our injured player who was stretchered off - and Raphael Diaz, the player dismissively referred to by Coach MacLean as "Player 61") but it was my husband, fresh from the Bell Center and that very game in which the injury had occurred, who suggested we donate to the Montreal Canadiens Children's Foundation which is dedicated to helping children in need. Anyone who has ever attended a Habs game at the Bell Center knows how dear to the organization this Foundation is; there are constant videos between periods that show the work done by the Foundation, the moneys raised, and - to everyone's delight - the visits to kids by Habs players themselves. (I urge you to visit their website and spend some time there - and keep it in mind when your life affords you a little extra to give to others).

The idea took wing and by the time Dave's column hit the papers, the deadline was extended in order to give everyone a chance to donate.

I am proud to say that we raised enough for the stuffed walrus which was sent to Brandon Prust as well as a total of $470 that was given to Ryan Frank of the Montreal Canadiens Children's Foundation this morning. He graciously consented to a photo of him with the check,  strategically taken in front of Brandon Prust's and Lars Eller's photos.

Ryan and I talked at length about how hockey is not just a game, at least not to those of us who are avid Habs fans. The injury to Lars Eller (now, thankfully, recovering), the Ottawa coach's subsequent tactlessness and Brandon Prust's most passionate statement, tinged with his unique sense of humor - those became a Story. In 2011, The Story was Max Pacioretty's injury and it got the city energized. This year it was the Walrus. As Ryan said, next year, there will likely be another Story. And each time there is, there is a renewal, a resurgence or just a re-affirmation of how much this team (not just the sport) unites us as a Habs Nation, a family of fans and supporters of the players, the staffers, the behind-the-scene players and now, the Children's Foundation.

I have to think heroes come in all forms. For Habs fans, we have our legends like Rocket Richard, Jean Béliveau, past stars such as Ken Dryden, Patrick Roy, Guy Lafleur. We have those heroes who used the platform of their notoriety to speak out and make this a Story. We have our current warriors - every single player, too numerous to mention - from the 2012-2013 Montreal Canadiens, a team that rose from last place to give us a season filled with victories, triumphs, and achievements, regardless of where we ended up in post-season action.

But to me, the heroes are the fans who continue, day in and day out, without fail, to show up to games in their seats or on the sofas, online or on barstools, in their Habs gear or in jammies, with their beers, sodas, or juice boxes. The fans who support this team not only on the ice (with voice-straining, eardrum-shattering cheers that must be experienced at least once in a lifetime) but who give of their hearts to these guys on non-game days, in off-season, and in events such as these that raise money directly because of Habs players, to benefit kids who may not have the opportunity to experience this luxury of hockey games at the Bell Center.

To me, YOU are the heroes.

Go HabsFans Go!!!

 (here is the money order given to The Montreal Canadiens Children's Foundation, presented to Ryan, in the photo above)

A Story of Friendship and New Beginnings

When I was in high school, I wanted - as so many of those of us who write do - to write the Great Canadian Novel. Somehow, I got it into my head that I wanted it to take place in prison. Knowing nothing about the system, I went to one of my favorite teachers. Mr. Simon had a pen-pal club - mostly Jewish pen pals but he was able to give me the name and address of a man in prison in Ohio who had reached out to him for a pen pal.

I must say, writing that first paragraph, and in planning this blog at all, I did not realize that in those days, pen pals, writing, and letters included ONLY the physical, pen-and-paper, snail-mail variety. Today things are quite different, and I realized that only in beginning my story!

Well, I wrote to the man in Ohio. He told me he was in for 4-6 years, and had been caught on a drug charge. He was able to provide me much detail for my story, and as I had originally been up front with my purpose for writing him, this was a lovely honest foray into the world of pen pals.

Or so I thought.

He stopped writing after about a year. I wrote him, but received nothing back. I continued to write. For about 8 months, I wrote regularly, asking if he was okay. My letters were not returned. Nor was any reply. And one day, coming home from school, I saw my mother driving up the street to the bus stop to meet me. She opened the car door and said, "hop in." She handed me an envelope. It was from this man. As we drove home, I read the letter. He had written that he'd received all my letters but felt he could no longer respond to me, as he had not been truthful. He wasn't in for 4-6 years, he was in for 20. And the charge was not drugs, it was homicide.

My mom and I talked; I was a teenager, after all, and she was a protective mother. She allowed me to write back. We had a very open line of communication and she would sit and listen as I'd read her my letters to him, and the ones I'd receive back. So she was okay with this (believe it or not!).

I wrote him that I was glad to hear from him. And that my worry over his well-being was alleviated. But I told him it wasn't so much the new information I had received as the lie he had told. Why not just tell me up front? Today, years later, I know why he didn't tell me up front: would a teenaged girl be allowed to write a man in prison for murder?

The correspondence continued, until he stopped, once again. This time I did not pursue the relationship.

In my senior year, Mr. Simon came to me and asked if I was still interested in writing someone in prison. I said yes, so he invited me to his house that Saturday afternoon, and a friend and I went. He handed me a letter from a man who was 26 years old and had been in for 2 years already. This man was in Georgia and from what we found out, he was the only Jewish prisoner (or only openly Jewish prisoner) in the State. He was to be there the rest of his life and was looking for friendship.

I wrote him immediately. I introduced myself, told him how I'd originally come to the practice of a pen pal in prison, and told him of my previous experience. I sent it off, and went about my life.

2 weeks later - and I will never forget the date: May 1st, 1979 - I came home having left school early, not feeling well. The house was empty and in disarray; we'd had it sprayed for whatever ants or bugs had infiltrated our old duplex. But in my room, on my pillow, was an envelope with the return address from Georgia. Feeling better already, I sat down to read.

Instantly drawn in by his eloquence and articulate writing, I read his short introductory letter. His name was Larry and he said he was interested in a mutual exchange of ideas and news. I wrote him back right away. He had included a photo with his letter, so I did the same with my return reply.

I cannot adequately express how 34 years of a friendship has unfolded. For a teenager graduating high school, pursuing new ventures, this was to become a lovely consistent friendship. There were times I didn't hear from him, but continued to write. And when he told me that he was no longer fighting as much, because fighting meant he would be put in solitary and would miss two things: football and my letters, I felt this sense of giving to another that I had not felt in my life. Sure, I had volunteered at charities over the course of my high school years, and babysitting was still an ongoing activity/job for me. But this was the ability to affect another person's whole life, and I took that very seriously.

There were weeks where I would get 3 letters a day, for 3 or 4 days of the week. I came to anticipate his letters as much as he anticipated mine. He was funny, and well spoken, poignant, and honest. How did I know he was honest? I didn't. But he would tell me the good, the bad and the ugly and that trust was there.

In the first summer of our correspondence, I mentioned that I had been dancing around a topic I felt he knew I was curious about. He wrote me back that he knew that. In the next round of exchanges, I asked him to please enlighten me. He wrote back, "What do you want to know?" I wrote back (among other things), "isn't it obvious?" His next reply, "Yes, but I don't want to tell you more than you are ready to hear." I wrote back, "Just as much detail as you would like to tell." And he replied, "No. Ask me specific questions."

So I did. I basically said, "Okay...then, what? Where? When? Why? Who? and How?"

Out of respect for his privacy, I will not relate here what his answers were. But I will say that the day I got that letter, I was on Cape Cod with my family. I read aloud (as he knew was a habit to share with my mother and grandmother), and we were all held riveted by his narrative. And that is how I knew he was honest with me. He had warned me, from time to time, "they don't call us cons for nothing." But I was always sure of one thing: he would answer my questions, and I could count on him for that exchange.

We would talk on the phone as well. First time he phoned, I was curious to know if he sounded like Jimmy Carter (my only - at the time - Georgia-accent reference).  And he informed me, in the letter arranging the call, that the guards would be listening on the other end. I think I forgot about that by the 3rd or 4th call....but one call, he said, "they're flashing the lights." (signal to get off the phone). I said, "aww...hasn't even been that long." He said, "Well, they gave us a few extra minutes this time." Dripping with sarcasm, I said, "Oh, well, remind me to thank them." He laughed and said, "Oh, he heard that."

He'd talked to my mom as well - and she would even write him. She was like that.

Larry stuck with me through the acquisition of my first dog, and the tragic death of that dog 6 years later. He learned about my 2nd dog, and was in my life when, 14 years later, I had to put Toebi down. He mourned with me the deaths of all my grandparents, the first having died a month after we began corresponding. Larry stuck with me through my dating life, and even through my getting married. As difficult as it was for me to relate these details to him, he never once held back on his being happy for me.

When I was pregnant with my first child, I received a Siddur (Jewish prayer book) in the mail - inscribed to my as-yet-unborn child (which we did not know was a boy). It is a treasure I have held onto, and just recently, have given my son.

And when Larry told me he had met a woman who was visiting him regularly, and then told me of their plans to marry, I was filled with awe - that he had found someone so special as to overlook the obvious obstacles to many women, that he had the chance for a permanent companion, and that he would experience that special love everyone deserves, I was so joyous for them both.

I confess: I lost touch with Larry some years back. It was entirely my fault. Overwhelmed with personal issues, I let the friendship fall. And as much as I regretted doing so, and kept saying to myself that I would pick it up, energy was waning in all-but-immediate matters.

Then a few years ago, I got email from a woman who wanted to know if I was the same Lissa who had corresponded with her husband, and mentioned his name. I was thrilled, because she not only reconnected me and Larry, but she and I connected via Facebook. Suddenly, I was writing long newsy letters again, though the first one had to be hard: I had to tell Larry of my mom's death. It hit him hard, and that was not a surprise. He has a heart of gold.

I have not been the best correspondent.I have let my personal life interfere with my commitment to Larry and for the times I have upset him for that, I feel deep sorrow. I know I disappointed him many a time.

But he has the most forgiving nature and has always written back when I've picked up the thread again.

Now the news: last month, April 9th, 2013 to be exact, Larry walked out of prison, a free man after 36 years. He had been trying to make parole for years, but this time, he and Ginger were able to find placement for him that will be most helpful in his acclimation to the outside world after so long. When I read her status update proclaiming that her husband is breathing free air, my eyes welled, and I said a prayer of thanks. It is a day that I know they have waited for, for the 25 years they've been together. It is a day I hoped to see, in the 34 years I've known him. And now it is here, and there are no words to describe the absolute joy this event has brought.

Ginger reported that after stopping off to get a pair of jeans that would fit him (the ones he got were way too big), his first request upon being driven to his new (temporary!) home was to stop at McDonald's and enjoy fries - with lots of ketchup. The photo she posted on Facebook had me smiling through tears. And though the Facebook event I created has expired, I will reignite it here: Celebrating Freedom with Fries was what I called it, and I asked everyone to have McDonald's fries (or any other fries - or any food they wanted!) and toast Larry and Ginger with their food. We take a lot for granted, even what we eat; and I wanted to stop for a moment, and think about how much we do. I wanted not only to salute Larry's freedom, and these two very deserving people with a fun "toast", but I wanted to feel the novelty even in just eating that which is - at its best - mundane food for those of us who have never felt the deprivation.So if anyone is moved to take a photo of themselves in a "french fry toast", I hope to be able to show Larry that there are a lot of people with good hearts in this world.

Larry is in the placement home for 9 months, without ability to receive mail or phone calls - even from his wife - until he has completed the program. I think, for Ginger and Larry, it will be the longest 9 months they have ever experienced, but I also believe it will go faster than either of them expects. And the day he walks into their home will be a momentous celebration for all who know him, or her, or both.

I have been writing letters to him. Catching up from the last batch, and keeping him updated as things happen. I intend to print them all out, and mail them when he is home. I'm pretty sure they'll have other things to do when he gets there (*nudge nudge wink wink* << For Ginger who has a beautiful wicked sense of fun and humor)

I have a friend whose artistic abilities are so versatile, she is known for her incredible artful cakes, her beautiful rubber-stamped work (she is the one who introduced me to the art 19 years ago) and her paintings that defy description. But Reesa was first known to me as the "kippa lady". Her yarmulke creations have been seen on the heads of males from infants to older men, in synagogues, schools, homes, and at every celebration from wedding to bar-mitzvah to pidyonha'ben parties. I taught kids who wore Reesa originals; her artistic ability allowed kids to wear kipas that sported Batman, the Simpsons characters, Ninja Turtles, Disney characters, and anything or everything one could imagine. Her more elegant kippa creations include beautiful designs that range from simple to elaborate, and she does this all by hand.

I decided to ask Reesa's help in creating a kippa for my friend Larry. She created the one in this photo - and it sports his Hebrew name (Simcha Chaim Ben-Yehuda) which was translated into the Hebrew alphabet by my friend Jeff.

I thank both Reesa and Jeff for their help in creating this gift for Larry; he was instrumental in getting the State of Georgia to grant dispensation to Jewish prisoners for the High Holidays, and dietary exemptions on Pesach. He is one of the most devout people I know, and I believe that his faith has kept him going all these years.

Well that, and Ginger's love.

Now that he is free, I know there will be a lot of adjustments for him; but I look forward to a lot more communication - instantaneous, now that I'm sure Ginger will teach him Facebook (he told me she wanted him to learn and that he is reluctant - I promised it will be a thing I will push for as well!).

I hope that the absences between my letters will be redeemed by our ability to pick up online. I am so looking forward to hearing how he is feeling out in the world after all these years, and I know Ginger may be absent from Facebook for a few (couple?) days after he comes home (*wicked grins*) but I also hope that her big heart and her sweet nature will see her sharing some of the joy with those of us so blessed to call her friend.

I have learned that not judging a book by its cover (or even its table of contents) has been a wise road to walk. I had learned that lesson early in life, but my friendship with Larry cemented the value of those words.

I have learned that there will always be those who slot, cubby-hole and categorize people, but that if we do so, we are losing out on some of the deepest connections we might have otherwise had. And while my initial outreach to Larry was "fact-finding", the information he was helping me to glean for my writing became secondary; the friendship grew and thrived.

I have learned not to take things at face value all the time. I have learned not to take things for granted. Larry has been crucial in helping me appreciate that which I have, and not bemoaning that which I do not. If we learn anything in life, it is to look around us and truly, sincerely give thanks for the gifts we are given, strive to achieve what we can within our means, and never - EVER - give up hope for a better future. Larry has taught me, over 34 years, that very lesson.

Welcome home, my friend - 8 months to go!  And Ginger - hang in there. I'm sure you're verrrry busy making plans for The Day...I am so excited for you both!

Bloodlust and Headlines

Last night, the Ottawa Senators faced our Montreal Canadiens for the first game of the first round of the first playoffs we have been in since 2011. We were all talking, in this city, about how friendly this rivalry has been (and would be) as compared to a Toronto or Boston match-up. We haven't played Ottawa in recent times, so this was something we all looked forward to enjoying.

I won't post about the game. That isn't the intent of this entry. By now, you're all aware of the score and how the game went, and that their goaltending was the reason it wasn't a blow-out for the Habs. And I am one of those die-hard, true-to-the-bone Habs fans who believes that one game won't decide the Series, nor does it portend our demise.

I won't post about the Hit on Lars Eller, though my stomach has been churning the same way it did when Max Pacioretty was hit by Zdeno Chara in March of 2011. But the feeling is different from when I wrote about that Hit... 

This post is about journalism. Or lack thereof.

Within hours of Lars Eller being stretchered off the ice, the blood cleaned from where he hit and the shakiness of the crowd and the players affecting the atmosphere of the Bell Center (and living rooms 'round the Habs Nation), the Ottawa Sun released its morning edition. I hesitate to post it here because of its classlessness, but I will post this link to a story by CTV Montreal, about the Sun, partly to highlight the object of my anger and disgust, and partly to authenticate it as a true front page (because I actually saw comments accusing Habs fans of making this up in order to rile the base).

I am a huge proponent of journalistic integrity. I wonder where it has gone, and why it is so rare to find. The Sun's decision to publish what they did showed me that it is even more rare than I had thought.

I get that there are bloodthirsty crowds at fights (which I despise, for my own personal reasons) and I get that there are those who go to hockey games in hopes of seeing fights and/or injuries (to opposing players, of course!). I have never understood that, and I know that hockey is the only sport in which fighting does not advance the game whatsoever. I've seen the crowds jump to their feet around me as a fight breaks out, or a huge hit is executed, and I can't get that excited; in fact, I have actually bemoaned our own players for not sticking with the game plan.

But for a newspaper to publish a photo of a bloodied man whose career could very much hang in the balance, and use the bloodlust for a cheap-shot headline, that got my blood boiling. And I felt compelled to write the editor of the Sun, both in email and on their web-form for that purpose.

As I don't feel the Sun will print it, and even if they do (in hopes they have a fair view of what journalism is), I will share what I sent to the editor in my direct email, here in my own pages.

I sent this to your "Letters to the Editor" online but in order to be sure it got to you, I'm sending it to you here as well. Thank you for your attention to this matter. I'm sure, as an editor, you would like your publication to be the most respected and most tasteful. Sadly, as you'll see by my letter, your front page delivers neither quality. Below is what I wrote via the webpage.

I am a Montrealer, and a lifelong Montreal Canadiens fan. We, here in Montreal, were very pleased to be facing the Ottawa Senators in Round 1 of the Playoffs, as this is the first time in decades that our teams are facing one another. All along, we've been friendly rivals, without contentiousness and without the kind of vitriol reserved for our regular rivals such as Toronto and Boston (a shared animosity, I believe). And we were looking forward to our cities competing without it degrading to ugliness.

This is not about Game 1, the score, or even the hit on Lars Eller by Eric Gryba. Rather, I am writing to express my abject disgust over the front page headline juxtaposed with the photo of Lars Eller. The picture is of Eller directly after a hit (one that sent him to hospital with a concussion, facial and dental fractures), bleeding profusely; the headline reads: "First Blood Sens".

I am utterly dismayed at the lack of class and heart this shows on the part of your editors - from the sports editors to the editor-in-chief for allowing it to be published. If this were an Ottawa player, and a Montreal paper had the gutlessness to do the same, you, too, would be up in arms.

Shame on you for your exploitation of an injured player to laud your win. Your journalistic integrity is deeply lacking in compassion and class.

Note: (for the record: the story in the Sun begins:

"First, the Senators drew blood Thursday night.

Then, they smelled it.")

I believe if the editor had any integrity whatsoever, he would publish some sort of statement of regret. I doubt that would happen. As I said, I just wish they would print my letter.

 When I am feeling emotions of any kind - I write. It is my catharsis, my emotional cleansing, it is my therapy and happens to be a forte, and if I can share my words with those who can use them, need them, or should hear them, all the better.

Expressing my outrage, sharing it with my fellow Habs fans - and to my great and pleasant surprise, many MANY Sens fans - and perhaps getting an editor to think twice about what he allowed will go a long way toward the healing process needed after an unwelcome revisit of the nausea incurred when one sees one's team experience a stretcher-required injury mid-game.

Prayers to Lars for a speedy recovery and a FULL return to the ice.

And Go Habs GO!!!!!

Sports are Good For The Health?

(Photo by Francois Lacasse/NHLI via Getty Images)

Aren't sports supposed to be healthy? Tonight, it doesn't feel that way.

My Habs just won a HUGE game against the Boston Goons Bruins. From the start of this game, migraine aside, I was not excited. I was nervous, I was tense, I was not feeling an enthusiasm but rather a dread. I don't like that - hockey has become more than a passion for me, and I love those opening face-offs, I love the blank scoreboard filled with promise and I love the newly Zamboni'd ice that marks a fresh start for every game. But somehow, when this match-up occurs, I don't feel that love. I just want it to be over. With the Habs chalking up another "W".

The Bruins are known for hitting hard, dirty, and unchecked by refs. They're known for forgetting about the scoreboard and running up minutes on the Penalty Board. (okay, there's no penalty board but if there were, it would be theirs to own).*

(*in fact, there was a total of only 8 penalty minutes for both teams all game. Both teams recognized the need to play disciplined hockey) 

We've had our run-ins with the Bruins - and my first introduction to the venomous rivalry was the March 8th, 2011 hit on Max Pacioretty. Not reliving that here, but it's historic as regards my own foray into this crazy game. But our playoff battles with Boston have been flush with emotional moments and more deeply-carved hatred (I use that word because it is used so often in reference to these two teams).

I blogged about the rivalry for a blogging contest and won 2 seats in the reds to see this match-up. My words hold true in my blog - I can't use "hatred" in its true sense because that word is saved for true situations. But it's close. The Bruins incite those emotions because they are just so dangerous in their need to fight and to injure.

So I read all the lead-up statuses and tweets to this game: "Looking forward to an exciting game!" and "Can't wait to renew the rivalry!" and I couldn't share that anticipation. To me, the best experience in a Bruins-Habs match-up is the end of the game when the Habs have won. Does that make me a bad hockey fan? No, because I'm not like that with any other match-up (Toronto comes close but not like this).

Found out I wasn't alone either - more than one of my Twitter friends expressed the same dread, the same uncomfortable tension and the same need for an end-of-game buzzer with the Habs victorious.

This was a game filled with tension. The Habs got 2 goals in the first 2 periods, only to lose the big lead with a Bruins goal in the 2nd. That's when my tension went on high alert. A one-goal lead is not a lead to protect, nor is it ever a lead to be happy with, until that end buzzer. And with the Bruins getting new life on their goal, we were in trouble.

The guys played absolutely amazing hockey. Carey Price is a revelation with every game and was so incredibly awesome tonight as to be supernatural (Carey haters will hate but they are as inconsequential to me as Bruins fans). But with a one-goal lead for most of the game (and as it turns out, till the end of the game), it was a ridiculously physical game - for me!

Seriously, are heart palpitations, sweaty palms, knotted stomach, increased headache, and weak knees a normal state for a person my age? Only when the Habs play Boston.

And with half the period to go in the 3rd, it was too early for me to take my regular standing spot in front of the television, but there I was, standing for a couple of minutes as my nerves took over and I couldn't sit at the keyboard without nervous energy taking over.

When Lars Eller took a holding penalty at minute 19:04 and the Bruins pulled their goalie for a 6-on-4 advantage, I went into full knee tremors. Is that normal? Uhhhh...see 2 paragraphs above.

But the Habs held on for the win.

And when the time ran out on the most tense minute ever, I screamed and added sore throat to my list of hockey-induced ailments.

Well worth it, Habs. Well worth it.

Critical Thinking

**While this entry deals mostly with Facebook, the scams date back, many of them, to email hoaxes which still make the rounds today. Any of the resource sites below will help you debunk any emails that may come your way**

I began collecting examples for this blog a while back. I was beginning to see a resurgence of fake "WARNINGS", and "ALERTS" on Facebook, those that had already made the round a few years ago and were returning. Such as the fake amber alert attributed to a Quebec driver who kidnapped a little girl: (click on photo to see enlarged, then back button to return to the blog)

*screen capture courtesy of snopes.com

This one has several incarnations and I see it reposted a couple of times a year.

Then there are the WARNINGS! about Facebook changes. The panic that ensues when someone posts something like this:

This only serves to cause people to repost a scam, over and over, to their walls, causing their friends to do the same, and thinking they are doing people a favor, this spreads from user to user. It is not harmful but it is incorrect "information".

Then this has made the rounds too:

This one was extremely difficult because the "instructions" to stop the evil Facebook from publishing everything you have ever written to everyone in the world actually prevented users from seeing their friends' feeds. It, in essence, blocked any activity from the friends the user "unsubscribed" from, essentially defeating the purpose of Facebook.

Scammers love this. They watch people try to protect themselves with bogus information and when someone actually looks up the scam (not difficult to do if you know how to use Google or any other search engine), and corrects the user, the myriad Facebookers who have gone through the tedious instructions one-by-one through their friends' list (sometimes in the hundreds) have to now undo everything they have done.

I have posted corrections to the scams as I've seen them emerge. I have posted them as anti-WARNING warnings on my own wall, I have commented numerous times on the postings of my friends, along with instructions and advice I am offering here. I have still seen these scams and hoaxes return over and over, sometimes the same ones, sometimes slightly changed. I have been called "the internet police".  I have been told where to go with my warnings and I have actually been unfriended by someone who passive-aggressively attacked me on her own wall because I was posting these quite frequently (that's okay - being unfriended by someone means they weren't a friend in the first place...hmmmmmm....new blog post....)

Back to our subject at hand:

Now the trend is to make poster-type inspirational quotes and upload them. There's nothing wrong with that. I have done it, reposting the ones I enjoy.

But the latest comes in the past week, where I have seen this posted quite a lot:

You may agree with the sentiment. You may believe that technology causes idiocy (that is a blog topic for another day). I've even seen one blog with this very quote and an entire paragraph on Einstein "rolling in his grave" because he is being proven right.

Except for one thing: Einstein never said this. I found an Einstein quote about technology:

"It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity."

Trouble is, I was fooled by that one too - finding it on several "famous quotes" sites, I thought it was the Einstein quote being twisted in the above meme. However, Einstein did not say this either. It is an invented Einstein quote in the film "Powder" (1995).

Again, it is easy to believe something when it is posted with a serious photo, a pretty font, A WARNING HIGHLIGHT or a believable argument.

But if we do not model critical thinking, if we do not exercise it every single day, then we become the antithesis of humanity, following trends, following what seems to be correct but never checking for ourselves.

It's easy to verify these things. I have been a fan of Snopes for about as long as I've been online. It became my go-to site when I fell for the same warnings I see happening now. I felt stupid, and gullible, and I wanted to prevent it from happening again. Going to that site is rote for me, whenever I see something posted on Facebook. It used to be my habit to check something outlandish. Then something almost believable but that raised my alarm bells as to veracity. Now, it's a regular habit. And I would like to try to prevent it from happening to my friends.

Scammers and hoaxsters are playing on our vulnerability, on our need to understand the world, and yes, on our humanity. They know that there are inherently good, kind people who will want to be the ones to warn their friends, educate their followers, and stop Evil in its tracks. And I know that's why so many of my friends post these warnings; they read them, their instinct is to become effective, and they spread the word. (it is why I am friends with you guys - your intentions are always well meaning; it is also what frustrates me when I post the same corrections with links to verify for yourselves, over and over and still see this stuff happening).

Posting warnings and stories works when there ARE true warnings. I have posted missing-children stories, animals who need adopting from our local SPCA, and many lovely inspirations as well. But I have done so with verifiable sources - that is the key.

Hoaxsters don't mean any harm - just mischief. But they win if we do not become critical thinkers in our everyday activity.

Ironically - this bogus Einstein quote has become self-referential in how many times it is "quoted" and reposted. Perhaps the hoaxster who put this together is having a bigger laugh at how prescient the quote has become.

Think for yourselves. See, if we all began checking these things, the scammers would never get far at all. My group of friends could post to their groups of friends, and we could mobilize a force of anti-scammers, anti-hoaxsters that would slow them down, if not stop them. Sure, they'll come up with new and different ways to play on our gullibility but let's continue to think critically.

There are many beautiful, sobering, astounding, inspirational, mind-blowing quotes out there; chances are they will all, at some point, be attributed to someone else, twisted in word or meaning, or are - from the beginning - manufactured for the amusement of smaller minds who have nothing better to do than watch their invented ideas make the rounds (sometimes even to national news media).

I'm not saying you should stop posting many of the wonderful things I also share from so many of you; we can all use some beauty and inspiration, humor and yes, cat pictures. But you should start questioning everything you read as attributed to famous people, as well as the veracity of the myriad warnings you will no doubt continue to see posted.

And you should not become the conduit for falsehoods or misguided ideas. If you do, we can then say that whomever it is who wrote this quote....was right.

Other Sources To Check:

Hoax Slayers 
(they also have a Facebook page, a newsletter and are highly trustworthy to debunk the myths)

Facecrooks 
(Facebook page as well, newsletter as well, and they will provide you practice advice in the world of technology and social media as well as debunking the myths)

urbanlegendsonline.com/ 
(This site will debunk urban legends, not specifically Facebook hoaxes, but many of these legends find their way to Facebook and people tend to believe them)
 
Or just Google part of the "warning" or the quote; chances are the first hit you will get will be Snopes. 

(I will continue on this topic in the coming days; it is beginning to run rampant across social media platforms of all types)

Sometimes It's About More Than The Win

 

 

(let me get this out of the way - most people reading this will already know that the Habs lost 2-1 last night. Okay, bandaid's off, on with the blog)

Thrilled that my optimism had paid off, and hockey was returning this season, I immediately set out to try and get tickets for the opening night. I wanted to take my kids to the game because it was, after all, the opening night, a post-lockout opener, and it was Habs vs. Leafs. So last Sunday, I sat online and scored tickets in the Family Zone where it's affordable and where it's just as exciting to attend a Habs game. We could hardly wait and finally, the day was here.

Clad in all our Habs gear (yes, I will rock my PK Subban jersey because I KNOW he will sign), we made our way to the Bell Centre in a heavy snowfall. Got to our seats and waited for the opening ceremony. One thing our Habs organization never fails to do is put on a good show replete with history and class.

Yvon Cournoyer - a former Captain - was seen on the huge Jumbo-tron, holding a torch (this year's battle cry for our Habs is "Raise The Torch" - and for those who are unfamiliar with why, our dressing room has the following line from the poem "In Flanders Field":

To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.

The torch has come to symbolize our pride and our history, brought out every playoff game to "light" the animated flames projected on the ice. Very effective and very dramatic.

So there was Captain Cournoyer - and to our delight, he was walking down the section adjacent to ours - so close to a legend!

Next came another Habs legend: Henri Richard. He held a torch and descended his section across the arena. And Vinnie Damphousse. And the Moment of the Night: Captain Jean Béliveau holding a torch at ice level. Jean Béliveau suffered a 2nd stroke last Spring, and has made a beautiful recovery from this one as well. Mr. Béliveau is more than a legend - he is a true Icon of our hockey team, and our city. When he made his appearance, an already-excited crowd erupted in a minutes-long standing ovation. It was hard to keep tears of emotion back. This man is a true miracle. His presence in the arena elicits reverence from those in attendance, young and old. And he is known for his warmth, his friendliness, and his appreciation of all this city's fans.

Mr. Béliveau passed the torch to our current Captain, Brian Gionta, whose presence at center ice heightened the excitement and ovation. He then passed the torch to each player as they were announced and skated out to center ice.

For a fanbase that had been encouraged to boycott hockey, the place was rocking. The noise level went beyond anything I had experienced there before, and by the time every player was on the ice, my throat was raw from cheering my team. My kids were starry-eyed. They are  older teens, but their demeanors are candid, upbeat, and spontaneous. I leaned over to my younger son and said, "Jean Béliveau is our miracle...God bless him." (we are not religious but there is a deep spirituality this man evokes in me) My son smiled and nodded in agreement, unable to take his eyes off this icon we were watching. It was a moment shared that constituted a highlight of my evening.

Okay, the game. It wasn't great. And let me start by saying I am probably the world's biggest Habs apologist. I can't say anything negative about my team. Even if they've earned it. I just can't. And I get offended and rabidly defensive when other people do - even if they are doing their job and analyzing a game.

But our guys weren't there. They were disorganized, and it was frustrating, and nerve-wracking. And what made it worse were the Maple Leafs fans in the row ahead of me...obnoxious, loud, drunk...and celebrating the 2 goals their team scored in the first period.

Granted, we got penalties and that didn't help. It didn't help that one of the powerplay goals scored by the Leafs was on a bogus call on Pleky (which turned out to be the deciding goal - pretty much as prophesied by Dave Stubbs).

Granted, we were missing passes, not taking shots, and effectively held off from generating any offense. When Captain Gionta scored our only goal with 6 minutes left in the game, I pretty much lost my voice, screaming my excitement, loving how peeved the Leafs boys were in front of me, and high-fiving perfect strangers in solidarity. It energized us even if it would be the only triumphant moment of the game.

But you know what? It felt awesome to be back. The electricity was ramped up, the feeling of just being a part of this fan base and most of all, sharing it with my sons. I feel lucky that they never expressed a "can we just go alone or with our friends?" (they both had friends who were there in groups) but that they didn't mind being out en famille. These are the precious moments I know I will cherish for a lifetime, and the moments I wanted to create for them from the time they were born.

Sure, it hurts to lose. It hurts to lose against the Leafs. And it wasn't the way opening night should have felt at the end of the evening. But it was one game. We'll get it back together and we'll have what I believe to be a much better season than last year. And I don't believe the fans who were there walked away completely disgruntled. One of the things about any sport is that teams win and teams lose. There HAD to be a winner tonight and it wasn't our turn. There will be victories this season. I'm sure of it.

However, it wasn't a total loss, not for me.

From a personal standpoint, last night was a wonderful evening. Riding home on the subway, watching my kids, I felt an overwhelming pride in them, and a deep gratitude that they still enjoy spending time with me. When we're home, everyone's spread out. There are computers and consoles and devices with which to communicate and commune, and that's normal. We still enjoy together time, but it isn't as concentrated as it is when we go out together. And last night, it occurred to me that while yes, attending a Habs game is a huge highlight for me (and for my kids), it is the memories created that are the underscoring reward in this type of outing.

So while I'm pretty bummed out that my team didn't win, I had a hugely successful evening that will be repeated next time I can get tickets to a game.

Because in the end, it's about more than the win.

(and because hockey is back, and our mantra is back, allow me to add:)

Go Habs GO!!!

Boycott Hockey?

First, let me get this out of the way:

HOCKEY IS BACK!!!

Okay, now that I've stated the obvious, let me discuss the plan of action.  Specifically, boycotting hockey.

Those words stick in my blogging craw. I'm a Habs fan, and that isn't just the practice of following one's team, being happy when they win, complaining when they don't, blah blah blah. That is in one's blood. Seriously, here in Montreal, it is compared to religion. And while I'm not making this a religious (or sacrilegious) conversation, I have to say there is a deep-seated loyalty that one could easily compare to that of religious beliefs. The loyalty that comes from knowing the team will be great and not so great at any given time. The loyalty that comes from knowing that we'll see good players come and go. The loyalty that comes from the pride in our franchise - the most Cups won, the oldest in the league, the one that has turned out most of the hockey greats in the storied Hall of Fame. A faith that goes beyond thinking.

That loyalty is not one that can easily be erased.

When the lockout was announced in September - no, even before that, with the rumblings of certainty so many in the business were warning us about - I felt a sinking in my soul. An emptiness that was exacerbated by the lack of playoffs for my team last season, and the terrible season we had in 2011-2012. After that season, I renewed my hopes for this year. I felt that my team - and its new management - would recoup our losses, come out of the 2012-13 gates on fire, and show us all (and the hockey world) what the Montreal Canadiens are all about: pride, talent, and victory.

But the lockout extended the very long off-season and this being my first lockout (I became a fan in the magical playoff season of 2010 - no longer a Scoreboard Celebrant but an actual follower of the game and all it entails), I did not know what to expect. The previous lockouts were a blip on my radar. No hockey? Whatever. But now? No hockey? SAY WHAT?!

I remained hopeful and optimistic that there would be a season. I followed the analysts on Twitter and radio, television and newspapers, websites and apps, and took the sides of those who believed, dismissing those who did not. Again, all new territory for me.

Then, the announcement after Day 113 of the lockout: the CBA had been ratified, the season would proceed, and hockey would begin again, albeit a truncated season. It didn't matter. 48 games are better than 47, and infinitely better than none!

And then came the rumblings of BOYCOTT. I'd read many a follower on Twitter vowing to boycott the NHL. Not buy the merchandise, not subscribe to Center Ice, and definitely not go to games. Again, my mind could not assimilate that: not go to games? How could anyone give up the chance?

I haven't been to a lot of games. A family outing at the Bell Center is not cheap, even in the cheap seats! But when we've been able, I've gone to games with my kids, enjoying their excitement, and sharing in something that is so much a part of their lives. Going to games has to be affordable, and when it is, it is truly a memorable outing. I may not have attended many games but I can recall each and every single game I have gone to, with the same exhilaration at experiencing the Bell Center.

Imagining a boycott - not going to games because it will "show the NHL that their fans aren't going to take this anymore" - was foreign to me. Not just as a fan but as a logical and (I'd like to immodestly state) intellectual thinker. Hockey fans - in my world, anyway - are all or nothing. You're a fan, or you're not. Therefore, fans can't boycott, can they? It's in the blood!

I'd like to say that those who have decided not to go to games, or not to buy merchandise, that is their right and I respect their right to express their disappointment with the NHL. But I can't share it. I am too invested, emotionally, in this team, its players, its history, and the pleasure I get from watching games (either on TV or in person) and sharing that with my boys.

So I have to wonder how serious the boycott really is. There are those who will not go back. They'll watch on TV (but I'm wondering how soon it will be before they NEED to go to a game once they get into the Habs season, especially after the victories I will optimistically predict on this page). They'll read about it, they'll follow the games or the results thereof.

However, tickets for two games went on sale this morning. 21,273 seats at the Bell Center. Not counting the season ticket holders, those who bought advance tickets (if they were available), the seats that went up for purchase this morning sold out within the hour. Did people spend money to boycott the games? I think not. Will they, as one Montrealer has urged, show up at the Bell Center Saturday night, with their tickets, and stand at the door refusing to go in, only to go watch at the local pub, only to show the NHL and the world that there are empty seats where there should be screaming fans? For the money tickets cost, it would be foolhardy for people to do that. I'm betting that when my family attends Saturday's game, we will be a handful of people in a sea of faithful fans, there to cheer on our team.

One more thing: I did not take sides in the NHL dispute. I don't know enough about it to opine, but I do know that the players wanted to be on the ice and would have played with an expired CBA had the commisioner allowed that to happen. It was Gary Bettman who made the lockout happen and again, while I'm not pointing fingers, there is no love lost between me - or any fan - and Gary Bettman.

And because I know the players would have been on the ice (from various interviews they'd given, various charity games they played and their subsequently going to play in the Russian and European leagues till the NHL was back), why would anyone want to penalize these hard-working young men who go out there and leave it all on the ice every single game? I would cringe if they came out to a smattering of applause instead of the thunderous building-shaking they get every night. I'd be embarrassed for my city if the Habs faced a less-than-capacity crowd.

I don't believe that will happen. I believe Montreal will make us all proud again - and show our loyalty and love for our Canadiens.

So let the games begin...I, for one, can hardly wait to rock my PK Subban jersey (please sign him, Mr. Molson!) and cheer my team as they step onto the ice for the first time since last April.  I am proud to be a Habs fan, and I am proud to be a Montrealer. Let's welcome the guys back in style!

Go Habs GO!!!