One click. One vote. One torch.

Leave a comment December 19, 2014 drworobec

I usually publish my blog posts on Tuesdays. But, you see, this is not a usual week.

I was just notified that I’m one of twelve finalists nominated to carry the Pan Am torch as it makes its run through Burlington this Summer, en route to Toronto for the 2015 Pan Am Games. I can’t think of a cooler opportunity. My friend and neighbour, Marnie, sent in a nomination unbeknownst to me, and here I am, excited about the impossible becoming possible.

Pan Am news is everywhere in the GTA. Commercials abound, billboards are popping up, and the buzz is growing. This is kind of a big deal. Toronto 2015 is only the third time in 85 years that these International Games have been held on Canadian soil. Right in our own backyard.

And it’s exactly the type of thing I love. I’ve been to the World Track & Field Championships, three World Junior Hockey Championships, and a College Bowl game. I’ve cheered at more NHL, CFL, MLB, NBA, NLL, and MLS games than I can count. I plan family outings around sporting events, I time my holidays around races, and I nearly knocked over Mike Weir on the fairway of a PGA event (true story). I am a sports-based chiropractor, I married a Phys Ed teacher, and my kids know that fitness is a part of life. I believe that grassroots minor sports are windows of opportunity, growth, and dreams. I live and breathe this stuff, it’s what makes me tick, it’s what makes me me. Passion? Nope. It’s more than that.

Sport is community. Sport is health. Sport is important life lessons all rolled up and condensed onto a playing field.

I’m a fan. I’m an athlete. I’m a mom raising fans and athletes.

So I am turning to you, my community. I am hoping for your support, asking for your help, tugging at your heart strings, requesting your vote. One click. One vote. One torch.

Please VOTE here: http://cms.burlington.ca/Page14733.aspx#.VJN5nrgYU

With my humble thanks,

Ashley

Johnny Who?

Leave a comment November 4, 2014 drworobec

Now that my first-born is in school, I realize that I’m having a hard time adjusting to city life. Particularly the raising-kids part. I grew up in small-town Alberta, where everyone knew everyone, and it was very common to not only know your teacher, but to also be going to school alongside their children. My high school graduating class was somewhere around 70 kids, and we grew up together; we knew each other’s siblings and cousins, birthdays, after-school jobs, houses, and cars. So I find it very strange to be dropping off my five-year-old for a full day of school, not knowing the parents or even the last names of his classmates.

I know, I know….. privacy concerns surround the release of personal information. But really, what would I do if I knew the full names or, gasp!, the phone numbers of his classmates? Google them? Spam them? Creep their Facebook pages? Likely not. In fact, all I would do is cultivate a community for my children. I’d store the ‘last name’ details into my brain so that as my child continues at his Elementary School for the next nine years, I might run across those names at other extra-curricular or community activities and build a support system, a network, a village-to-raise-a-child.

I’ve become increasingly embedded into the Burlington community; I’ve got a profession that allows me to work with people from all walks of life and it’s a small enough city that I find do-you-know-so-and-so connections often. Add to that the fact that I’ve got a Burlington born-and-raised husband and a recognizable surname, and this city most definitely feels like home. But I still know less than half the parents at morning drop-off and only a handful of last names. I want phone numbers and emails and home addresses. I want to be able to take my kids for a walk and say “that’s Johnny’s house.” I want to phone parents to set up playdates and to email birthday party invitations. I want my children to feel a sense of belonging, of support, of community; and I suppose I just need to wrap my head around a new way of doing that.

I’m a city girl by nature, but I must be a country girl at heart.

Apple-on-Books

Bravo.

Leave a comment June 17, 2014 drworobec

I am all about community and coming together. I’m it-takes-a-village-to-raise-a-child. I’m many-hands-make-light-work. I’m about belonging and friendships and comfort and safety. So when I had a chance to be involved at Assumption Catholic Secondary School’s “Cut for a Cure” last week, I jumped at the chance. Assumption is a big part of my family’s life, as that’s where my husband has been a teacher for the last 12 years, and it’s also where my children hang out whenever my husband is coaching after school and I’m at work. It’s our everybody-knows-us place, our this-is-good-for-our-kids place, our let’s-build-our-community-roots place.

“Cut for a Cure” has become an annual Spring event, after the resounding success of last year’s inaugural fundraiser. This year, it was combined with a Spring sports pep rally. Picture a school gymnasium packed to the rafters with high school kids. Add in loud music, my energetic (read: loud) husband as emcee, and sports teams filling the floor seats. Then add in a long row of chairs and dozens of go-ahead-and-shave-my-head volunteers paired with hairdressers. And as the volunteers marched in, their hair prepped for wig-making donations, the excitement in the room grew exponentially. The volunteers were overwhelmingly male. Some were teachers, some were students, one was my five-year-old son proudly sporting his mohawk. But some were female. Some were grade 12 girls, the day before their graduation ceremony, willing to shave off their hair to make a donation. To make a statement. To make a difference.

I can only assume that these girls were like I was in grade 12. At seventeen or eighteen, confidence can often run low and insecurity can run high. Appearance is important. Acceptance is important. And let’s face it: society says that long hair is beautiful. Our hair can be our security blanket, our hide-behind, our defining characteristic, and our self-esteem all rolled into one. So to these girls, I say bravo. Bravo for seeing the big picture. Bravo for being mature and wise beyond your years. Bravo for standing up for what you believe in.

And to my five-year-old son, who bravely got his mohawk shaved in front of hundreds of people, I say bravo to you as well. As your hair fell to the floor, so did my tears of pride. You get it, buddy. And you made a difference.