What's My Story?

WHATS YOUR STORY?

What are the basics of the story you remember from an earlier time in your life?
What emotions were involved when it happened?
What is your because statement -- this is your guidepost.

Learning to white water kayak is one of my stories.

Why did I spend two weeks bunking with 12 other adults in the bush? Because I wanted to do something completely out of character that I would not have been able to do while still married and 'responsible'.

Of course I could swim. And I had all of the equipment, including a made-for-female-shape life vest with an emergency whistle and rescue light. After a day or orientation to the small lake we'd be spending our days on, we learned to apply the neoprene kayak skirts so the craft wouldn't fill with water. One brave soul asked what should we do if we needed a bathroom break? The instructor's response was, pee in your boat. After a moment's silence, we figured that he knew what he was talking about and yes, we followed his advice. I mean, we were wet most of the time anyhow!

I loved paddling with speed and learning to swing the small fibreglass boat around using my legs and hips. We learned to fill our lungs then hold our breath for increasingly long counts. That was the easy part.

By day three, we were learning to do barrel rolls, where you lean far to one side and deliberately overturn your kayak. Basically, you're hanging upside down in the water, watching fish and unidentified critters swim by. The point of the exercise is control and losing your fears - by powering your weary self back upright with your paddle and arm strength.

On the last day, we could choose to navigate a course down Class 3 rapids (for intermediate paddlers. Unpredictable waves and strong currents can cause difficulties) to become certified. Naturally, I would not say no. The course was not elegant like you see at the Olympics. The river twisted and rushed around boulders and half-submerged tree stumps. There were staff posted at the most dangerous spots which was comforting and frightening at the same time. I had never worked so hard at any other sport I'd tried. It took less than ten minutes to complete the test but by the end, my whole body ached from the effort.

These were tests that had nothing to do with emotion. I was 54 years old - every else was at least a decade younger. I was still physically fit because I'd always been an athlete. Scared but excited about being able to prove myself to myself and perhaps to other people who knew nothing about me.

How was my thinking about myself altered? I felt powerful. I was confident I could do it. After many failed attempts (I swallowed a lot of lake water), I completed the roll with proper form. I made it down the river and through those rapids, well enough to earn my whitewater certificate.

I wasn’t afraid of failing because there was no one who would judge me – we were all novices, doing our best. It was an amazing endurance experience and journey of self-discovery.

What did I try next? Stay tuned.

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Gooooooaaaaaallll!

by Hyacinthe Miller • 2 July 2026

When people think about international sporting events, they often picture the action inside stadiums jammed with tens of thousands of screaming fans. Yet, some of the most memorable moments happen far beyond the first and last whistles. What I’ve seen in Mexico during a FIFA match, is entire towns transformed by watch parties in homes or bars, convoys of vehicles honking horns and waving flags from windows, and everyone out celebrating. We’re all wearing green shirts in honour of our Mexican football team and it’s amazing. It’s been a time when strangers become neighbours for a few unforgettable weeks. Walking through the streets at any time of day, you can feel the energy. Hawkers are selling Mexican themed team shirts of all kinds. Families bring their lawn chairs to the malacon to watch the match on a big screen television set up by the skateboard park. Before and afterwards, folks gather in the central square. A few weeks ago, I was on a flight from Toronto to Mexico City connecting to Guadalajara. Fans from all over the world were wearing team jerseys. There was such a happy buzz of pride and laughter. The man I sat beside was born in Mexico but hadn’t been back in forty-one years (he’d had a complicated life). He had tickets to games in Mexico City (CDMX) and Guadalajara. When we arrived in Guadalajara airport, there were two lines of people dressed in team colours greeting everyone heading out of the terminal. Music, chanting, dancing—I’d never seen anything like it. Last night on my way home from watching the game with a group of friends, there were no cars on the streets. It was eerily quiet. Even the dogs were silent. Yet, form every house I passed by on the way home, I could hear the game and cheers behind the curtains. When Mexico ended the game with a 2-0 win, then the celebrations spilled into the streets. Lots of cohetes being set off, cheering, and horns honking long after the match had ended. Everywhere you look, people are wearing team jerseys, interesting headgear or draping themselves in the flag. The sense of excitement is contagious. What makes the celebration especially memorable is the friendliness of the Mexican people. We saw lots of that hospitality offered in Tijuana to the Iranian team, whose exclusion form the US meant they had to fly out of Mexico for every match, and return afterwards. The Korean team will remember Mexican hospitality for a long time. In fact, there are lots of memes circulating that in nine months, there will be dozens of Korean Mexican babies born with names like Fernando Kim, Yoon Sun Lopez, Andreas Lorenzo Lee, Lourdes Maria Park. Especially in these troubled times, events like soccer with teams from around the world, remind us that competition can unite people and give them a break from political shanigans.

What's My Story?

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Gooooooaaaaaallll!

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