Long lost lucrative lemonade

The year was 1997 (I think) and the summer was bright and sunny, like a child's smile.

My youngest brother, Timmy, was six and a budding, baby entrepreneur.

We lived in the house with the red roof on Arthur Street in Thornbury. It was the perfect spot for Timmy's summertime venture.

He opened a lemonade stand.

My mom helped him set up a table, a little chair and an umbrella. He had a Tupperware dish full of change and two pitchers of lemonade. Actually, I think it might have been fruit punch. No matter, it was cold, liquid and refreshing.

But that wasn't the sales pitch.

Timmy is a sort of anomaly in our family of five: four have black or almost black hair and brown to almost black eyes. He was born with blue eyes and blond hair, and the perfect amount of cheek chub.

He was six years old when he opened his lemonade stand. His hair was freshly cut (mushroom/adorable style of course!) and his eyes were summertime blue.

My mom gave him a quick math lesson. Each cup of lemonade costs 20 cents. So, when someone gave him a quarter, he learned to give the customer back a nickel.

Well, sales took off immediately; pedestrians strolling by couldn't resist the little blonde boy with the fruit punch.

Some people driving by in their vehicles pulled over to the side of the road for a quarter-pint of the good stuff.

Soon, we realized that my mom's math lesson was proving to be inadequate. Timmy, born more suave than Han Solo, didn't let on. He stayed solid. Five cents back. That's what he was taught and that's what he was sticking to.

Even when a nice lady stopped her car in front of the stand for a sip and gave him a five-dollar bill for her cup, he handed her a shiny nickel. She laughed endearingly and drove away. She paid $4.95 for a cup of fruit punch, and it was worth every penny, because Timmy was just so darn cute.

I tried a couple times to sit with Timmy while he sold his juice, but he quickly figured out that sharing the stand with a gawky 12 year-old girl seriously cut into sales. I was shooed and he resumed sales as usual.

Timmy is, of course, far past the lemonade stand age.

But I recently read about two young boys trying to accomplish what my dear baby brother did in the summer of 1997.

Alex Pederson and Mackenzie Burke Sikorra, both 12, opened a lemonade stand and added popcorn and homemade dog treats to the inventory to maximize capital. The boys opened their stand in a park in a Vancouver suburb. They operated for much of this summer, hoping to raise money for uniforms for Mackenzie's soccer team.

They got busted for peddling in a park and had to pedal away from their summer fundraising dreams.

Bylaw officers, responding to a complaint by a sourpuss park pedestrian, shut down the whole lemonade operation. Town bylaws prohibit park property peddling.

So much for new soccer uniforms and six-year old nickel-back operations. Timmy seems to be part of an obsolete group of junior entrepreneurs with hearts of gold and smiles like summer.

Introducing ...

Everyone, this is Rosie. She's part Beagle, part Border Collie, part escape artists and all sweet.
She loves the wind in her ears as she sticks her head all the way out the car window, and she's nosy.
Rosie's an adopted pet. She came from the big city of Barrie, and even though her last owner lied about how old this dog is, I still love her. Me and Mike are her new parents, and she loves us for it.
She's a follower with a weakness for squirrels.
Oh, and she can jump off the roof.

In the Presence of Her Majesty

When I walked past a sign bearing the warning: "Caution: long dresses could get caught in the escalator" I knew I was at a fancy place.
Lavish enough for Her Majesty.
I wrote last week with bated breath, waiting for a bus that promised to take me to the Royal York where Queen Elizabeth II was scheduled to dine that evening.
I was covering the Duke of Edinburgh awards, where Thornbury's own Melissa Goldmintz was being honoured.
I first saw His Royal Highness at a distance. He walked in a procession with musical accompaniment. Then the lights went out, and when flash thoughts of "TERRORIST ATTACK!" subsided, the ceremony continued - though under the faded glow of emergency lights.
I watched the jovial Prince Philip greet each of the 140 student and their parents with a cheerful grin and light step.
Then my thoughts turned to Her Majesty's dinner plate, or rather, the people preparing it.
Imagine having to cook a state dinner for Queen Elizabeth II ... without power!
You can't exactly order pizza or barbecue some hot dogs.
Well, I think they managed, because everything continued on schedule, and the lights came back on just moments before everyone was scheduled to arrive on the red carpet for dinner.
I stood behind the CBC cameras, surrounded on all sides by camera lenses that could see into space.
It was the Royal York hotel, tricked out in all the in-case-the-Queen-comes tapestries. The Canadian Tenors checked their microphones on the stage next to me.
Guests arrived in gowns and tuxedoes. Some uniformed men and women among them.
I know it's cheesy to say, but it's true, the room was hushed completely. Everyone stood and looked toward the red carpet where Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II entered the room on the arm of Prime Minister Stephen Harper, her dinner host.
It was probably because of the cascading maple leafs made of Swarovski Crystals that poured from her shoulder down her arm, or the diamond necklace and earrings, or maybe the diamond tiara, but, to me, the Queen glowed.
I checked my photos later, and it definitely seems as though Her Majesty is emitting light.
Each voice in the room was strong, confident and proud as both verses of God Save the Queen rang out.
It means something more when Her Majesty is in the room to hear the blessing.
I watched her as long as I was allowed to stay, and it was a true privilege to hear her address the room.
She spoke beautifully - in French and English - her eloquence was inspiring.
The Queen of Canada admired the values "enshrined in law and ... found in the hearts of ordinary Canadians."
She finished her address with a subtle nod of her crowned head.
"Commitment to freedom, fairness and the rule of law are commonly and rightly associated with this nation," said Her Majesty. "These are just some of the attributes that animate Canadians at home and abroad, not least in the service of peace. So, although my visit here is drawing to a close, I shall continue to take the greatest pride in being your Queen, now and in the years to come."
Though there may be debate on whether or not Canada should remain attached to the Monarchy, I believe there is value in remaining tied to the Queen.
Aside from any political argument, there is something inspiring about royalty.
I was honoured to be in the presence of my Queen, and humbled that she takes an interest in my nation, enough to visit and congratulate Canada on its efforts toward goodness.
What child does not seek the approval of its parents in his actions? Who is not spurred on by the encouragement and commendation of those he or she looks up to?
To hear the Queen - Her Majesty - tell you she is proud of you - well, there's nothing so rewarding, nothing so inspiring.

Climbing a mountain and scaling Mount Everest

By Erika Engel

A Meaford mother is hoping to reach new heights for mental illness in honour of her son.
In fact, she's aiming for the highest height in the world - Mount Everest.
Maggie Holmes will climb Mount Everest to the base camp at 17,590 feet on March 26, 2011. She's hoping to raise a dollar for every foot of the mountain - that's $29,035 - for the Canadian Mental Health Association - Grey Bruce Branch.
"Extreme measures are needed for extreme causes," said Holmes.
She knows all too well the extreme needs of those who are mentally ill.
Her son, Ryan, was diagnosed with psychosis at the age of 15. Later his diagnosis was clearer: schizophrenia. Before he turned 21, her son was so tortured by his illness that he took his own life.
It's been almost four years since Ryan's death, and Maggie Holmes is aiming to get help for others who are suffering.
"Too many kids are dying," said Holmes. "In one month, four youth have taken their lives in this area."
She said that mental health is last on the health care list and wasn't even mentioned in the last speech by the Health Minister.
The biggest gap, according Holmes is the one that leaves out kids 16 to 18 who are mentally ill.
When Ryan was diagnosed, she had to take him to London and Toronto to see psychiatrists and to participate in programming.
She said that sometimes it was even harder to deal with stigma than the illness itself.
"There's not enough education," said Holmes, adding that kids showing signs of mental illness are often shrugged off with "typical teenage behaviour."
"Kids don't like to talk about being ill," said Holmes.
She said the process for a youth diagnosed with mental illness goes from illness to addiction - something to take the voices away - to suicide.
Jackie Ralph coordinator at the Grey Bruce Mental Health Association said suicide is the number two cause of death in youth aged 15 to 24, it is second only to automobile accidents.
She said the suicide rate is even higher lately, acknowledging the four recent incidents in Grey County.
"Why are teens committing suicide?" she asks. "We're trying to figure out why."
Ralph said that Monday, May 3 is the kick off for the annual Mental Health week and this year's theme is building a support network.
Essentially the idea is that people who care for others and are cared for in return, feel valued.
Ralph said the local hospital has some services already, and is a good first stop. But mentally ill patients have to be sent elsewhere for further treatment and programs.
The association needs funds to provide more services for youth aged 16 to 18, more funds for families of the mentally ill youth and more awareness.
Ralph said that, in Canada, over $5 billion is spent on treating mentally ill patients.
"If we spent one per cent of that on prevention, we would be a lot better off," said Ralph.
It might be a pie in the sky dream, said Ralph. Maybe even a mountain.
Maggie Holmes wants to climb that mountain - and Mount Everest - with the hopes of raising awareness and raising funds for the local chapter of the Canadian Mental Health Association. She wants to see an early intervention program in the area and perhaps a place that youth can go after they get out of the intervention program and before going back into regular society. A sort of half-way house for the mentally ill. Somewhere safe they can use to re-calibrate for their new life, their new counseling and their new medication.
That's her dream, and Mount Everest is her challenge.
"I'm doing it because it's extreme, I'm hoping that people can see that," said Holmes.
"I'm doing it for Ryan, doing it to save kid's lives. No kid should have to go through that."
For more information on Maggie Holmes' climb or to sponsor her in her quest visit www.climbingtoconquer.com.
There will be an art auction at Eclektika Galerie Boutique in Collingwood on June 26. Any local artists interested in donating a piece for the auction should contact Katie or Keith at the Gallery at (705) 812-0627.
For information about Mental Health week and the Grey Bruce branch of the Canadian Mental Health Association call 519 371 3642 or visit www.cmha.ca.

Small lens...Big deal

So, I was the only reporter there with a lens less than three feet long, but I pushed my way through the riser full of media to get my own photos.
Sure, they're crap as far as photos go, but, ladies and gentlemen, I took a photo of the Queen of Canada!
Also, if you look to the right, His Royal Highness, the Duke of Edinburgh (and husband to the Queen) is also in the photo.

When the Queen visits

By Erika Engel

In the middle of lumbering towers of concrete and glass, in a Hilton Hotel, I'm waiting for a bus that will take me to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh.
This is the best and most terrifying Monday of my year.
I'm covering the Duke of Edinburgh awards in Toronto, where the His Royal Highness, himself, is scheduled to present them. Following that presentation, Her Majesty and His Royal Highness will be dining with the Prime Minister, at which time, I may catch a lucky glimpse of the Queen.
I arrived four hours early. I knew I'd be early, but I had to consider every delay imaginable (and unimaginable). Wild horses weren't going to keep me from this assignment.
In fact, I made sure to keep a horse trainer on standby in case of a pack of wild horses on the Gardiner Expressway.
Before you start thinking, "wow, she's really dedicated to her job," I have to tell you that this type of anxious preparation is not an everyday thing. I'm sure if it was, I'd need a pacemaker and a bottomless prescription for some kind of chill pill.
This nauseatingly excessive - yes, compulsive - behaviour is reserved for only two special occasions.
Firstly, when my mother comes to visit.
The preparations take on a different role, one more active than a nervous hand wringing and 15 minute interval mirror checks. Essentially, the obsessive behaviour is directed at any spec of anything unclean in the house.
Secondly, in the event of a royal visit.
Believe me when I say, I thought this was more an obsession on paper than in reality. An "incase the Queen comes" clause is purely theoretical.
That's why, when it happens, every other never-gonna-happen situation is on the table and staring directly at you with mischief in its eyes and an evil plan behind its smirk. Step aside Murphy's Law; it's time for When-Hell-Freezes-Over.
Ladies, I hope you can sympathize, but this morning I had to ask myself what I was going to wear today when I went to see the Queen.
You can imagine my stress.
I'm waiting for that bus. Most of the hurdles are cleared - I have a bright yellow press pass around my neck - and every butterfly that made me nauseous with anxiety before is fluttering wildly in anticipation.
I'm excited.