From "A WOMAN OF SUBSTANCE":
This parting cannot be for long. Those who love as we do cannot be parted. We shall always be united in thought and "thought" is a powerful magnet. My love, have faith. I will carry you in my heart for the rest of my life.
About Me
- BoardWalk Angel
- Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada
- "On a windswept hill by a billowing sea, my destiny sits and waits for me".....R Brout
Friday, June 29, 2007
WHY I LOVE THE USA
WHY I LOVE THE USA
Some of you may wonder
Why I love the USA
And now that I am leaving
Please, just let me say:
I love the freedom to do anything
My little heart desired
To support myself along the way
Whatever was required.
I love her for the pride I feel
Singing "Oh, say can you see?"
And hearing the Pledge of Allegiance
Means so much to me.
I like the giant Military
This nation presents to all
And the courage, strength and dignity
When we bury those who fall.
America, the beautiful
Though I've not seen it all
Welcomes all who travel
At her beck and call.
She stands alone many times
To protect and to lead
Head held high with honor
I cry, to watch her bleed.
I love her grace and beauty
I respect the man in charge
Knowing we are protected
From the world at large.
I love the USA
And know I always will
Each time I hear our Anthem
I feel a gentle chill.
The red, white and blue
Has always flown right here
I'll leave it with this house
To keep it safe from fear.
I love the USA
And thank her from my heart
For holding me in her arms
As we prepare to part.
I shall return to visit here
And defend her again & again
In great admiration
I remain, a very grateful friend.
August 2003
Acworth, GA.
Some of you may wonder
Why I love the USA
And now that I am leaving
Please, just let me say:
I love the freedom to do anything
My little heart desired
To support myself along the way
Whatever was required.
I love her for the pride I feel
Singing "Oh, say can you see?"
And hearing the Pledge of Allegiance
Means so much to me.
I like the giant Military
This nation presents to all
And the courage, strength and dignity
When we bury those who fall.
America, the beautiful
Though I've not seen it all
Welcomes all who travel
At her beck and call.
She stands alone many times
To protect and to lead
Head held high with honor
I cry, to watch her bleed.
I love her grace and beauty
I respect the man in charge
Knowing we are protected
From the world at large.
I love the USA
And know I always will
Each time I hear our Anthem
I feel a gentle chill.
The red, white and blue
Has always flown right here
I'll leave it with this house
To keep it safe from fear.
I love the USA
And thank her from my heart
For holding me in her arms
As we prepare to part.
I shall return to visit here
And defend her again & again
In great admiration
I remain, a very grateful friend.
August 2003
Acworth, GA.
HARBOUR LIGHTS
Harbour Lights" conjures up a memory now & then
Takes me back to yesterday, even way back when
Running hard to catch the bus when I'd slept too long
Wintry days, skirt underneath, 'cuz pants on girls were wrong!
Gordon Atkinson in his tight suit; Ms. Hendry was truly insane
Miss McNab was my idol; Alfred Newell was a royal pain
Gym class and showers and Ms. Balcombs big chest
All of the boys loved to sit by HER for a rest.
Recess meant smoke breaks and flirting your best
Some just sat in their seat & crammed for a test
Ella and Effie roamed the halls arm in arm
Boys switching lunches but causing no harm.
The canteen sold junk and we stood in line with our dime
A pop and a candy bar or chips if there's time
Watching a game of basketball or a Cheerleaders shout
Chewing gum so fast before spitting it out.
Harbour Lights; High School; erasures and chalk
Too much homework and tests; not enough talk
Hurrying to grow up; how could we know for a fact?
That one day we'd be older and want to go back?
The bus's still roll towards a new BMHS
Kids in blue jeans and hair all a mess
Money for lunches and things they desire
Hurrying to get older; fueling the fire.
"Harbour Lights" will always be
A special time, in our history
As we look back, we see the light
School was youth, with no end in sight.
Takes me back to yesterday, even way back when
Running hard to catch the bus when I'd slept too long
Wintry days, skirt underneath, 'cuz pants on girls were wrong!
Gordon Atkinson in his tight suit; Ms. Hendry was truly insane
Miss McNab was my idol; Alfred Newell was a royal pain
Gym class and showers and Ms. Balcombs big chest
All of the boys loved to sit by HER for a rest.
Recess meant smoke breaks and flirting your best
Some just sat in their seat & crammed for a test
Ella and Effie roamed the halls arm in arm
Boys switching lunches but causing no harm.
The canteen sold junk and we stood in line with our dime
A pop and a candy bar or chips if there's time
Watching a game of basketball or a Cheerleaders shout
Chewing gum so fast before spitting it out.
Harbour Lights; High School; erasures and chalk
Too much homework and tests; not enough talk
Hurrying to grow up; how could we know for a fact?
That one day we'd be older and want to go back?
The bus's still roll towards a new BMHS
Kids in blue jeans and hair all a mess
Money for lunches and things they desire
Hurrying to get older; fueling the fire.
"Harbour Lights" will always be
A special time, in our history
As we look back, we see the light
School was youth, with no end in sight.
TELEVISION
TELEVISION
It was a joyous day when my oldest brother returned from being in the U.S. Army and CA by car (a Packard) and brought us a television set. I hadn't even see one yet as our neighbors didn't have them. It was a Zenith with a round screen. Dad and my brother had to get a huge antenna to put on top of our roof. The TV was so snowy that a thin piece of blue flimsy "paper" had to stick on to the screen to allow the picture to be seen.
The very first time he turned it on, we sat around the set on the floor, totally enraptured. I remember hearing this loud rush of noise, then nothing. The screen filled with bluish snow and we heard more noise. It was just around supper time and my mother wanted us to eat but of course, no-one dared move.
Dad went up on the roof and fiddled around with the antenna while my brother would yell "No, not yet" or "Turn it the other way" or "Ok; no wait; the other way." After a few minutes which seemed like a half hour, we heard the voice of none other than our comic book hero, ROY ROGERS!
We couldn't see him yet so my brother turned some knobs and the many black and white lines disappeared and lo and behold, there was Roy. He was in a fight and my other two brothers were in Heaven. Then, Dale appeared to save the day and I was yelling and hollering. Even my mother and father were laughing and excited; what a wonderful memory that is.
We watched our little black and white television with the blue snow from when TEST PATTERN appeared until the station signed off in the evening. Mom's favourite was "HOCKEY NIGHT IN CANADA" while Dad liked the News and Weather. My favourite was watching Annette Funicello on "THE MICKEY MOUSE CLUB."
Many times we would be enjoying a show with our neighbor friends all sitting in our front room, when the staion would just go off. Or the wind would blow our antenna around and we could get no reception. Waiting for dad to come home was a very long wait!
We never dreamed that one day there would be more than one "station" and that it would be shown in living colour! If someone had mentioned a "remote control" or 50 inch screens, we would have become hysterical. And to even IMAGINE that there may be hundreds of channels one day, was beyond comprehension! We were so happy with what we had, we couldn't have wished for anything more. We felt like we lived in Holleywood!
Hi oh Silver, Away!!!!!!
It was a joyous day when my oldest brother returned from being in the U.S. Army and CA by car (a Packard) and brought us a television set. I hadn't even see one yet as our neighbors didn't have them. It was a Zenith with a round screen. Dad and my brother had to get a huge antenna to put on top of our roof. The TV was so snowy that a thin piece of blue flimsy "paper" had to stick on to the screen to allow the picture to be seen.
The very first time he turned it on, we sat around the set on the floor, totally enraptured. I remember hearing this loud rush of noise, then nothing. The screen filled with bluish snow and we heard more noise. It was just around supper time and my mother wanted us to eat but of course, no-one dared move.
Dad went up on the roof and fiddled around with the antenna while my brother would yell "No, not yet" or "Turn it the other way" or "Ok; no wait; the other way." After a few minutes which seemed like a half hour, we heard the voice of none other than our comic book hero, ROY ROGERS!
We couldn't see him yet so my brother turned some knobs and the many black and white lines disappeared and lo and behold, there was Roy. He was in a fight and my other two brothers were in Heaven. Then, Dale appeared to save the day and I was yelling and hollering. Even my mother and father were laughing and excited; what a wonderful memory that is.
We watched our little black and white television with the blue snow from when TEST PATTERN appeared until the station signed off in the evening. Mom's favourite was "HOCKEY NIGHT IN CANADA" while Dad liked the News and Weather. My favourite was watching Annette Funicello on "THE MICKEY MOUSE CLUB."
Many times we would be enjoying a show with our neighbor friends all sitting in our front room, when the staion would just go off. Or the wind would blow our antenna around and we could get no reception. Waiting for dad to come home was a very long wait!
We never dreamed that one day there would be more than one "station" and that it would be shown in living colour! If someone had mentioned a "remote control" or 50 inch screens, we would have become hysterical. And to even IMAGINE that there may be hundreds of channels one day, was beyond comprehension! We were so happy with what we had, we couldn't have wished for anything more. We felt like we lived in Holleywood!
Hi oh Silver, Away!!!!!!
"TED"
TED
He fixed a cup of coffee
Sat down to read awhile
Fell asleep and was found
Wearing just a smile.
The note he had left behind
Said "sorry that I'm dead"
And just like that, he was gone
My grampa; known as Ted.
Now Ted had been a looker
Had been wed four times
Gone through tons of money
But died without a dime.
At the age of ninety-nine
He chose to end his life
And the only one he told
Was his lovely wife.
She sat just across from him
And waited for the hearse
Knowing that when it arrived
That's when she'd feel the worse.
Ted chose to die on Christmas
December twenty-fifth
In his note, he joked around:
"You can have my gifts."
He knew his days were numbered
The Doctors told him so
He bathed and wrote the note
Then it was time to go.
Soon there was a funeral
The family came in black
They all had been told
He'd had a heart attack.
The cemetery's cold and old
And Grampa's stone is new
"Ted" is all it says on it
No-one has a clue:
At the age of ninety-nine
He left his fortune to
A homeless shelter for lost dogs
Who rescued kittens too.
Twelve million dollars, all he had
And with his wife's blessing
He took a final soak and shave
Never bothered with the dressing.
Some say Gramp was an old fool
That his wife was crazy too
But not the animals who now reside
In the "NEW YORK TEDDY ZOO".
He fixed a cup of coffee
Sat down to read awhile
Fell asleep and was found
Wearing just a smile.
The note he had left behind
Said "sorry that I'm dead"
And just like that, he was gone
My grampa; known as Ted.
Now Ted had been a looker
Had been wed four times
Gone through tons of money
But died without a dime.
At the age of ninety-nine
He chose to end his life
And the only one he told
Was his lovely wife.
She sat just across from him
And waited for the hearse
Knowing that when it arrived
That's when she'd feel the worse.
Ted chose to die on Christmas
December twenty-fifth
In his note, he joked around:
"You can have my gifts."
He knew his days were numbered
The Doctors told him so
He bathed and wrote the note
Then it was time to go.
Soon there was a funeral
The family came in black
They all had been told
He'd had a heart attack.
The cemetery's cold and old
And Grampa's stone is new
"Ted" is all it says on it
No-one has a clue:
At the age of ninety-nine
He left his fortune to
A homeless shelter for lost dogs
Who rescued kittens too.
Twelve million dollars, all he had
And with his wife's blessing
He took a final soak and shave
Never bothered with the dressing.
Some say Gramp was an old fool
That his wife was crazy too
But not the animals who now reside
In the "NEW YORK TEDDY ZOO".
"MAMA"
"MAMA"
They say that there are seven wonders in the world; but I claim there once were eight.
She was born in Lowell, Mass. and grew up there and also in Barrington, N.S. When she met & courted & married my dad in Mass, they had their first of eight children in Lowell before moving to N.S. to reside permanently. This is where she made her life though she never got over her homesickness for the United States.
Born into the Seventh Day Adventest faith, she believed Saturday to be her Sabbath. Circumstances caused her to attend the local United Church where she could walk (we had no car) and where an organist and voice were badly needed. The love of her life was "music" & she grew to love our Church. What joy when she first played the new pipe organ and wore her beloved burgendy choir gown with the big white collar.
She was already into her 40's when her last baby was born but she was still full of energy & mischief. She'd play games with us and share songs & stories & skits. She would laugh so hard sometimes that she would almost go into hysterics and would frighten me.
She was a traditionlist and so we celebrated all of the holidays, Easter being her favourite. Her combined Junior & Senior choirs would display lovely contattas (musicals) and she was so proud. At Halloween she would make us outfits and costumes, even though all she had to work with were rags, sheets or face painting. She was so much FUN!
Cooking was another of her many gifts; she could stretch a dollar and make a meal out of a turnip that had sat down cellar since summer but in the dead of winter, tasted wonderful with that deer meat. Her Christmas cakes and her home-made cinnamon rolls, cookies and pies were mouth watering.
She liked to play cards (45's) and I learned by watching and listening to her play with the older children and daddy. She let me wind up the cuckoo clock, gather eggs from the henhouse, milk the cow, hang out clothes, iron, ice skate, draw, play hopscotch, marbles, play tricks and pranks, make home-made ice cream, sew, write poetry, sing, etc. But most importantly, she taught me to love.
She admitted to me once that I was not a "wanted" baby; I was her "surprise" baby. This is how she explained it: "But I'm 41 years old; I can't be pregnant again!" she exclaimed. "Well, you are and I don't see any reason why you should have a difficult delivery. All the others were easy enough. Call me if you have any problems."
She knew the old country Doctor meant well but how did he know how "easy" it was to give birth to a baby? He had told her after her last daughter was born that there should be no more as she was going through the change of life. But then she had a son! Now, just as he had turned 1 year old, she was expecting, AGAIN!
She never complained and immediately resumed raising her family of four girls and three boys. Often, her husband found work but sometimes, during the winter months, there was no income at all. They struggled to stay warm and clothed and fed. She would sometimes go without supper so her small children wouldn't have to go to bed or school hungry.
She'd sit with a cup of hot tea and perhaps a piece of bread; no-one seemed to notice as she made herself busy all of the time. Almost every day she'd do a wash using water she heated on top of the old wood stove; water drawn from the well or a pump inside her big kitchen. She'd hang them all outside to dry, even in the winter months. How weary she must have been as her stomach grew and her body craved rest.
That's where she was when the labour pains started; she was bending over the washboard in the old kitchen, facing the back woods, washing dirty diapers. Arrangements were made for the older ones to look after their smaller siblings and a taxi, driven by Lawrence Ryer, took her to a neighboring house. There, a Mrs. Bursto welcomed her and helped deliver her baby. The snowstorm caused the electricity to flicker but it stayed on into the long night.
Dr. R. Brannen arrived & as there were no complications, she took her baby and went home by taxi the next day. She wanted to use her sister's (middle) name for her new daughter's (middle) name and did so. Her husband then named the baby girl "Heather".
Because all of the kids had head colds, her father would not permit them into the new baby's bedroom, her parents room, for the first day or two that she was "home." It was a very bitter cold winter and the wind seemed to go right through the old two-story house, heated only by a wood stove and lit with one Aladdin lamp.
At night, she heated bricks inside the oven and when very hot, wrapped them in heavy newspaper and placed one in each bed. It was so cold one could see their breath in the dark bedrooms. The newborn child stayed close beside her mother & father and nursed for at least the first two or three years of her life.
The Canadian Government paid approximately $4.00 a month for a "Children's Allowance" and this check meant the world to them as there were 8 children. The 20th of the month was a very welcome day for Box #11 at the local Post Office! (the amount increased over the years until the check was for $16 each in 1965)
There were to be no more babies; eight was plenty! She was grateful to God that each one was born healthy, both physically and mentally. They were taken to Church and educated in the local school system. Each of her children was precious and loved and individually adored.
She never got a driver's license; she didn't work outside the home; she spent her years dedicated to her family and her church. The woman who gave life to me was very special and will be forever loved, treasured and cherished.
When she died early on Sunday, March 4th, 1979 at the age of 72, she died quietly and peacefully, as she had lived her life. Buried in her choir gown as requested, her favourite Minister travelled back to Barrington to assist at the funeral.
The melody in our home died with her. She was an American, an Ice Skater, a musician, a wife, a mother, a grandmother; but to me she was that eighth wonder of the world and I just called her "Mama."
They say that there are seven wonders in the world; but I claim there once were eight.
She was born in Lowell, Mass. and grew up there and also in Barrington, N.S. When she met & courted & married my dad in Mass, they had their first of eight children in Lowell before moving to N.S. to reside permanently. This is where she made her life though she never got over her homesickness for the United States.
Born into the Seventh Day Adventest faith, she believed Saturday to be her Sabbath. Circumstances caused her to attend the local United Church where she could walk (we had no car) and where an organist and voice were badly needed. The love of her life was "music" & she grew to love our Church. What joy when she first played the new pipe organ and wore her beloved burgendy choir gown with the big white collar.
She was already into her 40's when her last baby was born but she was still full of energy & mischief. She'd play games with us and share songs & stories & skits. She would laugh so hard sometimes that she would almost go into hysterics and would frighten me.
She was a traditionlist and so we celebrated all of the holidays, Easter being her favourite. Her combined Junior & Senior choirs would display lovely contattas (musicals) and she was so proud. At Halloween she would make us outfits and costumes, even though all she had to work with were rags, sheets or face painting. She was so much FUN!
Cooking was another of her many gifts; she could stretch a dollar and make a meal out of a turnip that had sat down cellar since summer but in the dead of winter, tasted wonderful with that deer meat. Her Christmas cakes and her home-made cinnamon rolls, cookies and pies were mouth watering.
She liked to play cards (45's) and I learned by watching and listening to her play with the older children and daddy. She let me wind up the cuckoo clock, gather eggs from the henhouse, milk the cow, hang out clothes, iron, ice skate, draw, play hopscotch, marbles, play tricks and pranks, make home-made ice cream, sew, write poetry, sing, etc. But most importantly, she taught me to love.
She admitted to me once that I was not a "wanted" baby; I was her "surprise" baby. This is how she explained it: "But I'm 41 years old; I can't be pregnant again!" she exclaimed. "Well, you are and I don't see any reason why you should have a difficult delivery. All the others were easy enough. Call me if you have any problems."
She knew the old country Doctor meant well but how did he know how "easy" it was to give birth to a baby? He had told her after her last daughter was born that there should be no more as she was going through the change of life. But then she had a son! Now, just as he had turned 1 year old, she was expecting, AGAIN!
She never complained and immediately resumed raising her family of four girls and three boys. Often, her husband found work but sometimes, during the winter months, there was no income at all. They struggled to stay warm and clothed and fed. She would sometimes go without supper so her small children wouldn't have to go to bed or school hungry.
She'd sit with a cup of hot tea and perhaps a piece of bread; no-one seemed to notice as she made herself busy all of the time. Almost every day she'd do a wash using water she heated on top of the old wood stove; water drawn from the well or a pump inside her big kitchen. She'd hang them all outside to dry, even in the winter months. How weary she must have been as her stomach grew and her body craved rest.
That's where she was when the labour pains started; she was bending over the washboard in the old kitchen, facing the back woods, washing dirty diapers. Arrangements were made for the older ones to look after their smaller siblings and a taxi, driven by Lawrence Ryer, took her to a neighboring house. There, a Mrs. Bursto welcomed her and helped deliver her baby. The snowstorm caused the electricity to flicker but it stayed on into the long night.
Dr. R. Brannen arrived & as there were no complications, she took her baby and went home by taxi the next day. She wanted to use her sister's (middle) name for her new daughter's (middle) name and did so. Her husband then named the baby girl "Heather".
Because all of the kids had head colds, her father would not permit them into the new baby's bedroom, her parents room, for the first day or two that she was "home." It was a very bitter cold winter and the wind seemed to go right through the old two-story house, heated only by a wood stove and lit with one Aladdin lamp.
At night, she heated bricks inside the oven and when very hot, wrapped them in heavy newspaper and placed one in each bed. It was so cold one could see their breath in the dark bedrooms. The newborn child stayed close beside her mother & father and nursed for at least the first two or three years of her life.
The Canadian Government paid approximately $4.00 a month for a "Children's Allowance" and this check meant the world to them as there were 8 children. The 20th of the month was a very welcome day for Box #11 at the local Post Office! (the amount increased over the years until the check was for $16 each in 1965)
There were to be no more babies; eight was plenty! She was grateful to God that each one was born healthy, both physically and mentally. They were taken to Church and educated in the local school system. Each of her children was precious and loved and individually adored.
She never got a driver's license; she didn't work outside the home; she spent her years dedicated to her family and her church. The woman who gave life to me was very special and will be forever loved, treasured and cherished.
When she died early on Sunday, March 4th, 1979 at the age of 72, she died quietly and peacefully, as she had lived her life. Buried in her choir gown as requested, her favourite Minister travelled back to Barrington to assist at the funeral.
The melody in our home died with her. She was an American, an Ice Skater, a musician, a wife, a mother, a grandmother; but to me she was that eighth wonder of the world and I just called her "Mama."
THE BOTTOM OF THE CUP?
"The Bottom of the Cup?"
The snow, ice and wind beat hard against the old house, causing it to tremble and whine. Few travelers dared to venture far and so traffic outside her frozen windows was light. Weary of over-eating, reading and riding her exercise bike, she did what she very seldom did and turned on the television set.
But then she remembered she had to check on the turkey which she'd left thawing in the sink. A close friend had given it to her in December and she thought it would be delicious to have this week-end when it seemed like the whole world was celebrating the Super-Bowl. At least it would smell delicious when she returned from Church on Sunday morning to an empty house.
Settling into her wide recliner with the warm heating pad behind her back, a soft wool throw over her lap and her precious dog at her side, she began to scour the channels with the remote control. Ah, this was the life! Let it rain, snow, sleet; let the bitterly cold winds roar......she had it made with her pet, her turkey and her warm, comfy room. She sipped from her hot chocolate and settled on the very first station that looked interesting.
She realized she was watching a movie that was 3/4 over but since she liked Diane Keaton so much, she wanted to see what it was all about. She recognized Steve Martin and realized she was watching "FATHER OF THE BRIDE".
So far, so good. My, they were rich! The wedding plans sounded awesome with hired chefs, gardeners, valets, maids, florists.........apparently, Steve was about to give his only daughter away. She thought of her own daughter who has yet to marry and felt the same feelings. She heard "HERE COMES THE BRIDE" and cried too! She missed her father who had died in 1996 and cried & cried.
At the reception on TV, when the bride and groom danced and kissed and she threw her beautiful bouquet, she bawled her eyes out. It was a gorgeous wedding, a beautifully decorated home & the Mom, Diane Keaton, looked stunning in her beaded dress and heels. The bride's only sibling was her brother who appeared to be 16 years younger than her, the same as her son is to his sister. She cried whenever he said something cute, using up all of the box of kleenex by her chair, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her new red sweater.
When the bride had left on her honeymoon and the little boy is visiting his friends home, the father and mother of the bride share a very private, romantic time in the kitchen. She stopped watching when Diane is dancing in her bare feet with her husband, she just couldn't bear to watch anymore romance. She couldn't see the screen through her tears anyways.
She missed and wanted what they had.....not just the beautiful home with the perfect yard, the money and boats and vehicles, but the relationship's, the jokes, the tenderness, the love. Then she thought of some couples she knew who are not as happy as she is, alone. The ones who sleep in separate bedrooms now, the ones who take separate vacations, the ones who wish they had the courage and strength to leave, the ones who are not in love with their spouse anymore. The ones who stay together simply because of what the neighbors might say if they separated or the ones who stay together "for the kids" or "the grandkids" or care too much what their employer or Pastor would say. The ones who wish they had married someone else or had never married at all......
She decided she needed to switch gears and get out of her melancholy mood so she changed channels to CNN. It used to be informative and up-to-date so she waited for the Superbowl hype to end and listened, really listened to the latest news. But visions of that sky-high wedding cake and the song "THE WAY YOU LOOK TONIGHT" stayed inside her head and she started to cry softly again. She wished she wasn't such a hopeless romantic! Damn!
"Hundreds of people died today in Iraq as suicide bombers blew up a busy Market; hundreds more are seriously injured. At least 20 people are dead following a devastating storm in Fla. with thousands more homeless. The bird flu has people frightened and panicked as an outbreak has been detected.......a newborn baby has been found left in freezing temperatues on a stranger's doorstep........20 dead and over 200,000 homeless in flooded Indonesia........Billie Henderson of The Spinners ("COULD IT BE I'M FALLING IN LOVE" & "THEN CAME YOU") has died at aged 67....Get ready for the SUPERBOWL!! Stay tuned at CNN."
She suddenly sat up straight! This is the REAL world! The fantasy movie she had just watched part of, was just that....a fantasy! She had a healthy son and daughter whom she loves very much; they turned out fine and she's proud of them. No, she never had a wedding or threw a bouquet but who's to say her daughter won't or maybe even she, herself? And as she smells her turkey roasting now that it's Sunday and she has changed from her Sunday church clothes to warm, comfy ones, she is feeling very blessed. She had to put it in perspective and to put it down on paper.
The world is huge, it's enormous, it's gigantic! There are people alone who struggle daily with depression, sadness, lonliness and bitterness. She is not one of those people, thank God. She is appreciative and thankful for her kids, her warm, fuzzy sheets & electric blanket, her food, car, dog, friends, family, neighbors, hobbies, health, books, music, Church, her Minister, her Faith. She is comfortable in her own skin, she likes who she is and what she sees in the mirror when she awakens.
Is your glass half empty or half full? Can you see, as her brother said, "the bottom of the cup?" If you can, then do something about it. Choose to be in love with life.
Still, it would be nice to share this 20 pound turkey with someone! Maybe she'll take some over to the neighbors who have plenty of money but also have three hungry boys. She definitely will take some to a young man she knows who, until last Fall, lived in a fish box. She needs to run to the store anyways; she's all out of kleenex!
The snow, ice and wind beat hard against the old house, causing it to tremble and whine. Few travelers dared to venture far and so traffic outside her frozen windows was light. Weary of over-eating, reading and riding her exercise bike, she did what she very seldom did and turned on the television set.
But then she remembered she had to check on the turkey which she'd left thawing in the sink. A close friend had given it to her in December and she thought it would be delicious to have this week-end when it seemed like the whole world was celebrating the Super-Bowl. At least it would smell delicious when she returned from Church on Sunday morning to an empty house.
Settling into her wide recliner with the warm heating pad behind her back, a soft wool throw over her lap and her precious dog at her side, she began to scour the channels with the remote control. Ah, this was the life! Let it rain, snow, sleet; let the bitterly cold winds roar......she had it made with her pet, her turkey and her warm, comfy room. She sipped from her hot chocolate and settled on the very first station that looked interesting.
She realized she was watching a movie that was 3/4 over but since she liked Diane Keaton so much, she wanted to see what it was all about. She recognized Steve Martin and realized she was watching "FATHER OF THE BRIDE".
So far, so good. My, they were rich! The wedding plans sounded awesome with hired chefs, gardeners, valets, maids, florists.........apparently, Steve was about to give his only daughter away. She thought of her own daughter who has yet to marry and felt the same feelings. She heard "HERE COMES THE BRIDE" and cried too! She missed her father who had died in 1996 and cried & cried.
At the reception on TV, when the bride and groom danced and kissed and she threw her beautiful bouquet, she bawled her eyes out. It was a gorgeous wedding, a beautifully decorated home & the Mom, Diane Keaton, looked stunning in her beaded dress and heels. The bride's only sibling was her brother who appeared to be 16 years younger than her, the same as her son is to his sister. She cried whenever he said something cute, using up all of the box of kleenex by her chair, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her new red sweater.
When the bride had left on her honeymoon and the little boy is visiting his friends home, the father and mother of the bride share a very private, romantic time in the kitchen. She stopped watching when Diane is dancing in her bare feet with her husband, she just couldn't bear to watch anymore romance. She couldn't see the screen through her tears anyways.
She missed and wanted what they had.....not just the beautiful home with the perfect yard, the money and boats and vehicles, but the relationship's, the jokes, the tenderness, the love. Then she thought of some couples she knew who are not as happy as she is, alone. The ones who sleep in separate bedrooms now, the ones who take separate vacations, the ones who wish they had the courage and strength to leave, the ones who are not in love with their spouse anymore. The ones who stay together simply because of what the neighbors might say if they separated or the ones who stay together "for the kids" or "the grandkids" or care too much what their employer or Pastor would say. The ones who wish they had married someone else or had never married at all......
She decided she needed to switch gears and get out of her melancholy mood so she changed channels to CNN. It used to be informative and up-to-date so she waited for the Superbowl hype to end and listened, really listened to the latest news. But visions of that sky-high wedding cake and the song "THE WAY YOU LOOK TONIGHT" stayed inside her head and she started to cry softly again. She wished she wasn't such a hopeless romantic! Damn!
"Hundreds of people died today in Iraq as suicide bombers blew up a busy Market; hundreds more are seriously injured. At least 20 people are dead following a devastating storm in Fla. with thousands more homeless. The bird flu has people frightened and panicked as an outbreak has been detected.......a newborn baby has been found left in freezing temperatues on a stranger's doorstep........20 dead and over 200,000 homeless in flooded Indonesia........Billie Henderson of The Spinners ("COULD IT BE I'M FALLING IN LOVE" & "THEN CAME YOU") has died at aged 67....Get ready for the SUPERBOWL!! Stay tuned at CNN."
She suddenly sat up straight! This is the REAL world! The fantasy movie she had just watched part of, was just that....a fantasy! She had a healthy son and daughter whom she loves very much; they turned out fine and she's proud of them. No, she never had a wedding or threw a bouquet but who's to say her daughter won't or maybe even she, herself? And as she smells her turkey roasting now that it's Sunday and she has changed from her Sunday church clothes to warm, comfy ones, she is feeling very blessed. She had to put it in perspective and to put it down on paper.
The world is huge, it's enormous, it's gigantic! There are people alone who struggle daily with depression, sadness, lonliness and bitterness. She is not one of those people, thank God. She is appreciative and thankful for her kids, her warm, fuzzy sheets & electric blanket, her food, car, dog, friends, family, neighbors, hobbies, health, books, music, Church, her Minister, her Faith. She is comfortable in her own skin, she likes who she is and what she sees in the mirror when she awakens.
Is your glass half empty or half full? Can you see, as her brother said, "the bottom of the cup?" If you can, then do something about it. Choose to be in love with life.
Still, it would be nice to share this 20 pound turkey with someone! Maybe she'll take some over to the neighbors who have plenty of money but also have three hungry boys. She definitely will take some to a young man she knows who, until last Fall, lived in a fish box. She needs to run to the store anyways; she's all out of kleenex!
ELLA
"ELLA"
Gimme an "E"........
I often heard her coming before I would see her and came to recognize her laugh. A shy, conservative 7th grader, I was immediately impressed. Who could have that much confidence and joy? She soon became one of the most popular girls in school & she wasn't even a Cheerleader.
Ella Belliveau was a "Cockawitter;" that meant she was from Wood's Harbour and proud of it. Assigned to my classroom, we were just 2 of approximately 30 boys and girls. We had been schooled until that year in our individual, respective communities; I was in Barrington and she in "Cockawit."
I was already in awe of her before she was assigned to be my "shower" buddy in Phys. Ed. Our Gym. teacher was a Miss. Balcolm who was more popular with the boys due to her youth and heavy bosom.
I had never had a shower in my whole life; my family didn't even have a bathroom. Even though I had 7 older siblings, I had modestly kept my body covered night & day.
I dreaded the day when we had to disrobe down to what God gave us and "bathe" together. I laid awake worrying about it the night before and tried to find the largest towel in the house, for my Gym bag.
We had P.E. for our last class (7th Period) and we did our exercises, tossed the basketball, whatever. I was thinking of only one thing....THE SHOWER!
Ms. Balcolm came inside our locker rooms to make sure we were undressing and showering. One had to hurry or miss their school bus. I removed everything but my panties and stepped into the hot shower with Ella, who was yelling and laughing over top of the shower, to her friends. She was just wearing a shower cap!
I felt like I was 9 years old! Ella had a woman's body at aged 13; I had NOTHING! I mean, I didn't even have hair under my armpits yet, let alone anywhere else. I was totally and completely humiliated! She must have noticed I had my underwear on but she said not a word and she never laughed at my shyness and embarressment.
That's how I first met my friend, Ella. I watched as she roamed the hallways of BMHS with her girlfriend, Effie or her sister, Mary. One could hear them coming, arm in arm, a whole floor away. In class, she would laugh aloud and was very "smooth". People liked her instantly, especially the boys as she was VERY cute & bubbly.
Unfortunately for me, so did the new boy in school, Gordon Hill. Gordon moved to town with his Canadian Air Force family and I immediately had my first crush. I thought of nothing, day & night, but Gordon Hill. My grades started to take a dive; I was smitten. I became friends with his popular and gorgeous sister, Francis just so I'd learn more about him. But then they moved from Barrington to Centreville.
On Saturdays, we'd all try to go to the local cinema and one would leave a seat vacant next to them if one was hoping (and praying, in my case) that their "crush" would sit beside them. The only times Gordon came to sit beside me was when Ella wasn't there. I used to cringe when I'd "hear" her arrival.
But we were friends at school and we were both close to Michael Pierce. We'd all sit next to one another in class and share or trade sandwiches. Of course, she had known Mike all of his life. I thought the world of him, like he was my brother. When I heard he'd been killed in a car accident at aged 19 or 20, my heart broke. And I immediately wondered if Ella knew & I longed to speak with her.
My birthday and hers are exactly 1 month apart and I am one month older than she; we always remember our mutual birthdays. My niece married one of her brothers and we have stayed in touch. Ella is now a grandmother and resides in the land of the free.....Mass.
We both left home and moved to the USA when we were very young. I am now a Cape Islander and she will always be a Cockawitter to me. Her birthday is Feb. 28th and I wrote this to make her smile.
Happy Birthday, girlfriend; behave yourself or Ms Hendry will make you go stand out in the hall (AGAIN!).
With Love,
Heather
Gimme an "E"........
I often heard her coming before I would see her and came to recognize her laugh. A shy, conservative 7th grader, I was immediately impressed. Who could have that much confidence and joy? She soon became one of the most popular girls in school & she wasn't even a Cheerleader.
Ella Belliveau was a "Cockawitter;" that meant she was from Wood's Harbour and proud of it. Assigned to my classroom, we were just 2 of approximately 30 boys and girls. We had been schooled until that year in our individual, respective communities; I was in Barrington and she in "Cockawit."
I was already in awe of her before she was assigned to be my "shower" buddy in Phys. Ed. Our Gym. teacher was a Miss. Balcolm who was more popular with the boys due to her youth and heavy bosom.
I had never had a shower in my whole life; my family didn't even have a bathroom. Even though I had 7 older siblings, I had modestly kept my body covered night & day.
I dreaded the day when we had to disrobe down to what God gave us and "bathe" together. I laid awake worrying about it the night before and tried to find the largest towel in the house, for my Gym bag.
We had P.E. for our last class (7th Period) and we did our exercises, tossed the basketball, whatever. I was thinking of only one thing....THE SHOWER!
Ms. Balcolm came inside our locker rooms to make sure we were undressing and showering. One had to hurry or miss their school bus. I removed everything but my panties and stepped into the hot shower with Ella, who was yelling and laughing over top of the shower, to her friends. She was just wearing a shower cap!
I felt like I was 9 years old! Ella had a woman's body at aged 13; I had NOTHING! I mean, I didn't even have hair under my armpits yet, let alone anywhere else. I was totally and completely humiliated! She must have noticed I had my underwear on but she said not a word and she never laughed at my shyness and embarressment.
That's how I first met my friend, Ella. I watched as she roamed the hallways of BMHS with her girlfriend, Effie or her sister, Mary. One could hear them coming, arm in arm, a whole floor away. In class, she would laugh aloud and was very "smooth". People liked her instantly, especially the boys as she was VERY cute & bubbly.
Unfortunately for me, so did the new boy in school, Gordon Hill. Gordon moved to town with his Canadian Air Force family and I immediately had my first crush. I thought of nothing, day & night, but Gordon Hill. My grades started to take a dive; I was smitten. I became friends with his popular and gorgeous sister, Francis just so I'd learn more about him. But then they moved from Barrington to Centreville.
On Saturdays, we'd all try to go to the local cinema and one would leave a seat vacant next to them if one was hoping (and praying, in my case) that their "crush" would sit beside them. The only times Gordon came to sit beside me was when Ella wasn't there. I used to cringe when I'd "hear" her arrival.
But we were friends at school and we were both close to Michael Pierce. We'd all sit next to one another in class and share or trade sandwiches. Of course, she had known Mike all of his life. I thought the world of him, like he was my brother. When I heard he'd been killed in a car accident at aged 19 or 20, my heart broke. And I immediately wondered if Ella knew & I longed to speak with her.
My birthday and hers are exactly 1 month apart and I am one month older than she; we always remember our mutual birthdays. My niece married one of her brothers and we have stayed in touch. Ella is now a grandmother and resides in the land of the free.....Mass.
We both left home and moved to the USA when we were very young. I am now a Cape Islander and she will always be a Cockawitter to me. Her birthday is Feb. 28th and I wrote this to make her smile.
Happy Birthday, girlfriend; behave yourself or Ms Hendry will make you go stand out in the hall (AGAIN!).
With Love,
Heather
BABY, IT'S COLD INSIDE!
"BABY, IT'S COLD INSIDE!"
The chiming of the old clock that I'd purchased last summer from Max's sister's yard sale, awakens me. Now that the power's off, my bedroom fan has stopped, allowing noises to disturb my beauty sleep. The clock chimes eleven times but that doesn't mean anything; it was always a few hours wrong. I figure it has to be closer to dawn and it is.
Pulling on all of the clothes I had carefully set aside for just this momentious occasion, I get dressed in the dark. I can feel Camo's eyes peeking out of his soft blanket from the foot of my bed, asking himself "Now, where is she going in the dark?"
A candle is lit and shows me the way downstairs. I thought about the oil lamp but remembered my grandmother, whom I'd never met, had died by falling downstairs. She was attempting to reach the oil lamp to light her way, a practise she had done all of her married life. I see the temperature in my house has dropped to 48F, a bit uncomfortable.
I hear the snowplough going by and imagine it has banked further snow in front of my already snowed-in car. I probably should listen to the news so I approach my sterio until I remember there's no electricity. I walk carefully upstairs to get the transister radio from beside my bed but the batteries are dead.
Suddenly, I feel very chilled and check the thermometer again to discover it's now 46F degrees. I go back upstairs with my dripping candle to add some more clothing to my shaking body. Oh good, there's my flashlight but when I go to turn it on, the batteries in it are dead as well! Damn! Back downstairs, I go to find my battery recharger but then recall it is electric and will serve no purpose.
A cup of coffee would be great right now but first I'll wash up. Oops, no hot water! I should have a thermos full of nice hot water for my coffee but I forgot to do that last night. At least I have a tub full of water to use to flush the commode; I may be a woman but I'm not blond!
Now what? I am starting to be irritated; the novelty has worn off already and I am cold and want my decaf. 42F now, I KNEW it! I count the articles of clothing I have on......panties, bra, black tights, tan corduroy pants, wool socks, sneakers, a white T shirt, a long sleeved navy blue (Boston Red Sox) pullover, a huge, wool sweater that used to be Brett's. Nine items and I'm thinking "Baby, it's cold inside!" I add a black & red wool cap with ear-muffs that was my dad's and now feel very fashion co-ordinated. I look in the mirror but it's still too dark to see.
Camo makes his presence known by rubbing up against me and scares me. I laugh and try to locate his collar so he can go outside. It takes awhile but we finally locate it on the washing machine in the porch. Out he goes; it's warmer outside so he stays a bit longer than usual, all of a minute or two. Wimpy American dog! lol
Ok, now, I can do this! I look for some batteries that are not rechargeables but there are none. I start a list......batteries, candles, newspaper, peanut butter, bread......so much for my NO-CARBS diet! (note to self......buy Coffee Crisp candy bar). I do not add it to my list though as it makes me feel guilty to see it in print.
Camo sits down and I wipe the snow off him and he shivers but has on his warm winter coat; still, he is spoiled so he sits in my recliner while I find his warm blanket & cover him up snugly. He hunkers down, looks at me as if to say "Now what?"
I wish I could watch CNN or listen to the local radio station to hear what's happening. I assume we have no power because of the weather but decide to check outside to see if I am the only one without it. But the whole town is black; here comes the snowplough again. My house is silent and dark. I open the fridge door to a dark interior and see nothing. The candle light shows me some left-over turkey and I eat it with my cold fingers and share some with Camo.
Now I add black gloves to my ensemble as my hands are numb. Upstairs again, I add more blankets to my bed. I see my electric make-up mirror and sigh. Damn Nova Scotia Power! I wish I could iron or do some laundry. I walk downstairs again with my candle and touch the silent computer with my glove. How I took it for granted! What I'd give to be sitting there in my warm living room, reading emails, downloading pictures and listening to my BeeGees music.
I start to open up all the window blinds but decide I had better wait a bit. It's now 38F degrees in here and I can almost see my breath. I think about my freezer melting but then realize it never will in this house. I wished I had a gas stove or a fireplace. I can't cook anything or heat any water. I'd drive to Tim Horten's but I can't get my car out of the driveway. Besides, they're probably without power as well.
Now it's 33F and I am shivering! I put on my warm furry pile coat and change from sneakers to my fur boots. I pace and whine and think about swearing. My hands are freezing so I switch from gloves to white mittens that I know are hand-made by a woman in Barrington. I bought them at a church bazaar last fall.
Daylight allows a glimpse of the outdoors and it is breathtakingly beautiful. The fresh white snow is untouched by children or nature and the icy water lays in tranquil silence. There is no movement save a few windy wisps of blowing snow. I think of "Silent Night, Holy Night" and hum a few bars but my lips are too numb to form the words.
Oh, how I'd love that cup of coffee with some warm buttered cinnamon toast, maybe a soft boiled egg and some crisp cottage roll.....I start hallucinating and begin to salivate. My God, it's only been a matter of hours since I last ate; how can I be ravenous? I don't even EAT breakfast most days! Still, I envision hot home-made oatmeal with real butter, cream and brown sugar.......
I pick up the cordless phone to call my brother, thinking he may be coming this way and can bring me a coffee from somewhere. But, of course, even the phone is dead. I feel on the verge of tears now. It's so cold I consider going out to my car to wait it out but am afraid I may die from the fumes. The rear of my car is covered with hardened snow. I try to write but my hands won't form letters as my fingers won't co-operate.
The temperature dips to 26F degrees! So I go back to bed to try to get some warmth in my body; I am seriously afraid of freezing to death! I only remove my boots at first and then, once I am able to, the coat and cap. Only my eyes are visable in my soft cold bed, curled up in a fetal position. Camo decides to join me and I welcome his body heat as he plops down on the outside of the quilts, close to my back. I cover him with his blanket. We lay quietly, listening to the snowplough and the chiming of the clock.
We must have fallen asleep in our frozen house because the next thing we know the lights are on, the furnace is heating up, the world's awake! We are still alive! Yeah!!! I immediately jump out of bed to turn on my radio and look outside. The street lights are all back on, the Post Office is lit up, cars are passing by, albeit very slowly. I LOVE Nova Scotia Power!!
An hour and two coffee's later, I sit to inhale the magic of electricity and feel so grateful to Thomas Edison. The scenery outside is so invigorating that I capture it all on film from my windows. Camo decides to stay out an extra minute as well and we rush inside to fix our oatmeal and buttered toast. To Hell with Dr. Atkins!
The phone rings just as I begin to read nine new emails from friends all over the world; oh, the wonder of it all. As I plug in my electric rollers, battery recharger and sit at my electric make-up mirror while sipping my hot coffee, I feel blessed and at peace. But wait! the power blinks, not once but twice....oh no! Not again! I hurry to prepare for such an occurence and turn my electric blanket on High.......just in case. I lay my book beside my pillow, just in case. I dig out my old phone that requires no power to operate, just in case. I am so happy and warm and fed and then.......the power goes off.....again!
Camo watches me running around and must be thinking "People! What weird creatures!" And I can't decide if I love or hate Nova Scotia Power!! "Cuz baby, it's cold inside!"
The chiming of the old clock that I'd purchased last summer from Max's sister's yard sale, awakens me. Now that the power's off, my bedroom fan has stopped, allowing noises to disturb my beauty sleep. The clock chimes eleven times but that doesn't mean anything; it was always a few hours wrong. I figure it has to be closer to dawn and it is.
Pulling on all of the clothes I had carefully set aside for just this momentious occasion, I get dressed in the dark. I can feel Camo's eyes peeking out of his soft blanket from the foot of my bed, asking himself "Now, where is she going in the dark?"
A candle is lit and shows me the way downstairs. I thought about the oil lamp but remembered my grandmother, whom I'd never met, had died by falling downstairs. She was attempting to reach the oil lamp to light her way, a practise she had done all of her married life. I see the temperature in my house has dropped to 48F, a bit uncomfortable.
I hear the snowplough going by and imagine it has banked further snow in front of my already snowed-in car. I probably should listen to the news so I approach my sterio until I remember there's no electricity. I walk carefully upstairs to get the transister radio from beside my bed but the batteries are dead.
Suddenly, I feel very chilled and check the thermometer again to discover it's now 46F degrees. I go back upstairs with my dripping candle to add some more clothing to my shaking body. Oh good, there's my flashlight but when I go to turn it on, the batteries in it are dead as well! Damn! Back downstairs, I go to find my battery recharger but then recall it is electric and will serve no purpose.
A cup of coffee would be great right now but first I'll wash up. Oops, no hot water! I should have a thermos full of nice hot water for my coffee but I forgot to do that last night. At least I have a tub full of water to use to flush the commode; I may be a woman but I'm not blond!
Now what? I am starting to be irritated; the novelty has worn off already and I am cold and want my decaf. 42F now, I KNEW it! I count the articles of clothing I have on......panties, bra, black tights, tan corduroy pants, wool socks, sneakers, a white T shirt, a long sleeved navy blue (Boston Red Sox) pullover, a huge, wool sweater that used to be Brett's. Nine items and I'm thinking "Baby, it's cold inside!" I add a black & red wool cap with ear-muffs that was my dad's and now feel very fashion co-ordinated. I look in the mirror but it's still too dark to see.
Camo makes his presence known by rubbing up against me and scares me. I laugh and try to locate his collar so he can go outside. It takes awhile but we finally locate it on the washing machine in the porch. Out he goes; it's warmer outside so he stays a bit longer than usual, all of a minute or two. Wimpy American dog! lol
Ok, now, I can do this! I look for some batteries that are not rechargeables but there are none. I start a list......batteries, candles, newspaper, peanut butter, bread......so much for my NO-CARBS diet! (note to self......buy Coffee Crisp candy bar). I do not add it to my list though as it makes me feel guilty to see it in print.
Camo sits down and I wipe the snow off him and he shivers but has on his warm winter coat; still, he is spoiled so he sits in my recliner while I find his warm blanket & cover him up snugly. He hunkers down, looks at me as if to say "Now what?"
I wish I could watch CNN or listen to the local radio station to hear what's happening. I assume we have no power because of the weather but decide to check outside to see if I am the only one without it. But the whole town is black; here comes the snowplough again. My house is silent and dark. I open the fridge door to a dark interior and see nothing. The candle light shows me some left-over turkey and I eat it with my cold fingers and share some with Camo.
Now I add black gloves to my ensemble as my hands are numb. Upstairs again, I add more blankets to my bed. I see my electric make-up mirror and sigh. Damn Nova Scotia Power! I wish I could iron or do some laundry. I walk downstairs again with my candle and touch the silent computer with my glove. How I took it for granted! What I'd give to be sitting there in my warm living room, reading emails, downloading pictures and listening to my BeeGees music.
I start to open up all the window blinds but decide I had better wait a bit. It's now 38F degrees in here and I can almost see my breath. I think about my freezer melting but then realize it never will in this house. I wished I had a gas stove or a fireplace. I can't cook anything or heat any water. I'd drive to Tim Horten's but I can't get my car out of the driveway. Besides, they're probably without power as well.
Now it's 33F and I am shivering! I put on my warm furry pile coat and change from sneakers to my fur boots. I pace and whine and think about swearing. My hands are freezing so I switch from gloves to white mittens that I know are hand-made by a woman in Barrington. I bought them at a church bazaar last fall.
Daylight allows a glimpse of the outdoors and it is breathtakingly beautiful. The fresh white snow is untouched by children or nature and the icy water lays in tranquil silence. There is no movement save a few windy wisps of blowing snow. I think of "Silent Night, Holy Night" and hum a few bars but my lips are too numb to form the words.
Oh, how I'd love that cup of coffee with some warm buttered cinnamon toast, maybe a soft boiled egg and some crisp cottage roll.....I start hallucinating and begin to salivate. My God, it's only been a matter of hours since I last ate; how can I be ravenous? I don't even EAT breakfast most days! Still, I envision hot home-made oatmeal with real butter, cream and brown sugar.......
I pick up the cordless phone to call my brother, thinking he may be coming this way and can bring me a coffee from somewhere. But, of course, even the phone is dead. I feel on the verge of tears now. It's so cold I consider going out to my car to wait it out but am afraid I may die from the fumes. The rear of my car is covered with hardened snow. I try to write but my hands won't form letters as my fingers won't co-operate.
The temperature dips to 26F degrees! So I go back to bed to try to get some warmth in my body; I am seriously afraid of freezing to death! I only remove my boots at first and then, once I am able to, the coat and cap. Only my eyes are visable in my soft cold bed, curled up in a fetal position. Camo decides to join me and I welcome his body heat as he plops down on the outside of the quilts, close to my back. I cover him with his blanket. We lay quietly, listening to the snowplough and the chiming of the clock.
We must have fallen asleep in our frozen house because the next thing we know the lights are on, the furnace is heating up, the world's awake! We are still alive! Yeah!!! I immediately jump out of bed to turn on my radio and look outside. The street lights are all back on, the Post Office is lit up, cars are passing by, albeit very slowly. I LOVE Nova Scotia Power!!
An hour and two coffee's later, I sit to inhale the magic of electricity and feel so grateful to Thomas Edison. The scenery outside is so invigorating that I capture it all on film from my windows. Camo decides to stay out an extra minute as well and we rush inside to fix our oatmeal and buttered toast. To Hell with Dr. Atkins!
The phone rings just as I begin to read nine new emails from friends all over the world; oh, the wonder of it all. As I plug in my electric rollers, battery recharger and sit at my electric make-up mirror while sipping my hot coffee, I feel blessed and at peace. But wait! the power blinks, not once but twice....oh no! Not again! I hurry to prepare for such an occurence and turn my electric blanket on High.......just in case. I lay my book beside my pillow, just in case. I dig out my old phone that requires no power to operate, just in case. I am so happy and warm and fed and then.......the power goes off.....again!
Camo watches me running around and must be thinking "People! What weird creatures!" And I can't decide if I love or hate Nova Scotia Power!! "Cuz baby, it's cold inside!"
FIFTY YEARS LATER
FIFTY YEARS LATER......
Childhood memories are just that, memories of our childhood. Fortunately, mine are all good ones and for that I thank my parents, grandparents and growing up in the fifties in rural Nova Scotia.
When I was 9 1/2 years old, my folks talked with me about God and as I had always gone to Sunday School and Church with them, it was not hard for me to believe. My brother was a year older and on October 20th, 1957 he and I were baptized in the United Church of Canada.
I remember being very excited and proud as I let Mama curl my hair with pin curls. I wore my regular Sunday dress and she gave me a 3 button, light colored, fitted coat that a relative from Mass. had sent over. It fit me perfectly. A small hat completed my attire with black patent leather shoes and white nylon short socks. I felt like Heidi, my favourite fictional character.
Rev. McCara was our Minister at the time and he was very charismatic and handsome. He sprinkled Holy water on my forehead while saying a prayer. I was very happy and felt overcome with joy! My brother, Junior was baptized that same day and as the Choir sang "Jesus Loves Me", I saw joy in my parents eyes. And I felt loved.
I remember reading a little book of baptism that Rev. McCara gave us and it helped make sense of why it was important for me to go thru the Ceremony of baptism. I knew that it may be many years before I'd actually commit to being confirmed but if and when I did, I hoped it would also be in this church.
The years flew by and though I visited this church when back on vacations, I was not an active visitor. In 2005, I started to attend services there and felt an immediate attachment to it and to God. I prayed that He may accept me as being spiritually fit enough to be confirmed and did much soul searching.
In March of 2007 I hope to be confirmed and am studying to be accepted as a new Member of the United Church of Canada. Over 50 years have passed since I wore my second hand coat and borrowed hat to be baptized. I know now that God will not care what I have on the exterior but what I have inside my heart.
Childhood memories are precious; senior ones can be just as memorable and I hope to carry this one well into my twilight years. I am now in the Autumn of my life and will be confirmed in winter. Seasons come, seasons go....I can't wait to have my confirmation day. Thank you, Jesus.
Childhood memories are just that, memories of our childhood. Fortunately, mine are all good ones and for that I thank my parents, grandparents and growing up in the fifties in rural Nova Scotia.
When I was 9 1/2 years old, my folks talked with me about God and as I had always gone to Sunday School and Church with them, it was not hard for me to believe. My brother was a year older and on October 20th, 1957 he and I were baptized in the United Church of Canada.
I remember being very excited and proud as I let Mama curl my hair with pin curls. I wore my regular Sunday dress and she gave me a 3 button, light colored, fitted coat that a relative from Mass. had sent over. It fit me perfectly. A small hat completed my attire with black patent leather shoes and white nylon short socks. I felt like Heidi, my favourite fictional character.
Rev. McCara was our Minister at the time and he was very charismatic and handsome. He sprinkled Holy water on my forehead while saying a prayer. I was very happy and felt overcome with joy! My brother, Junior was baptized that same day and as the Choir sang "Jesus Loves Me", I saw joy in my parents eyes. And I felt loved.
I remember reading a little book of baptism that Rev. McCara gave us and it helped make sense of why it was important for me to go thru the Ceremony of baptism. I knew that it may be many years before I'd actually commit to being confirmed but if and when I did, I hoped it would also be in this church.
The years flew by and though I visited this church when back on vacations, I was not an active visitor. In 2005, I started to attend services there and felt an immediate attachment to it and to God. I prayed that He may accept me as being spiritually fit enough to be confirmed and did much soul searching.
In March of 2007 I hope to be confirmed and am studying to be accepted as a new Member of the United Church of Canada. Over 50 years have passed since I wore my second hand coat and borrowed hat to be baptized. I know now that God will not care what I have on the exterior but what I have inside my heart.
Childhood memories are precious; senior ones can be just as memorable and I hope to carry this one well into my twilight years. I am now in the Autumn of my life and will be confirmed in winter. Seasons come, seasons go....I can't wait to have my confirmation day. Thank you, Jesus.
THE SNOWMAN
THE SNOWMAN
The little girl was happy now
Since Santa had brought snow
When she had asked him at the Mall
He just said "HO HO HO";
"If that's all you want from Santa
And you've been very good
Then just you wait awhile
It'll fall in your neighborhood."
She rolled and rolled the snowball
'Til it was very, very big
And then she rolled another one
Placed on his head a wig;
She made his nose from a carrot
Red cherries for his mouth
But his eyes were black as coal
Tanned skin; like he'd been down South.
She stared at him in wonderment
And couldn't believe her eyes
Santa had brought her snowman
But he was ALIVE!!
She hugged him to her tiny frame
And she swore he hugged her back
The hill was hard and slippery
The snow was solid; packed.
He watched her as she smiled and laughed
Content to just spend time
With a lonely old snowman
Who didn't even have a dime;
While others shopped and partied
She played out in the snow
To be close beside him
Why, he did not know.
She said "Once my Nana told me
She loved a man like you
He had tanned skin & dark eyes
Someone she once knew";
Then she made the snowman cry
Before she left the hill
As she touched his round tummy
Said "I''ll see ya later, Will."
He tried his best to stay alive
But the rain won the race
And the very last thing to melt
Was the snowman's face;
When she ran to save him
To tell her friend good-bye
She watched in total wonder
As she saw him cry.
No-one would believe her tale
But her Nana did
And when she held her, on her lap
Nana often said:
"Santa and "our snowman"
Stay in our hearts all year
It's our secret, yours & mine
It's ok to shed a tear."
Christmas Eve she went to bed
And heard her Nana cry
So she crawled in beside her:
"Nana, do snowmen die?"
Her Nan didn't answer her
Just held her very tight
And snow fell as they slept
On this very HOLY night.
The little girl was happy now
Since Santa had brought snow
When she had asked him at the Mall
He just said "HO HO HO";
"If that's all you want from Santa
And you've been very good
Then just you wait awhile
It'll fall in your neighborhood."
She rolled and rolled the snowball
'Til it was very, very big
And then she rolled another one
Placed on his head a wig;
She made his nose from a carrot
Red cherries for his mouth
But his eyes were black as coal
Tanned skin; like he'd been down South.
She stared at him in wonderment
And couldn't believe her eyes
Santa had brought her snowman
But he was ALIVE!!
She hugged him to her tiny frame
And she swore he hugged her back
The hill was hard and slippery
The snow was solid; packed.
He watched her as she smiled and laughed
Content to just spend time
With a lonely old snowman
Who didn't even have a dime;
While others shopped and partied
She played out in the snow
To be close beside him
Why, he did not know.
She said "Once my Nana told me
She loved a man like you
He had tanned skin & dark eyes
Someone she once knew";
Then she made the snowman cry
Before she left the hill
As she touched his round tummy
Said "I''ll see ya later, Will."
He tried his best to stay alive
But the rain won the race
And the very last thing to melt
Was the snowman's face;
When she ran to save him
To tell her friend good-bye
She watched in total wonder
As she saw him cry.
No-one would believe her tale
But her Nana did
And when she held her, on her lap
Nana often said:
"Santa and "our snowman"
Stay in our hearts all year
It's our secret, yours & mine
It's ok to shed a tear."
Christmas Eve she went to bed
And heard her Nana cry
So she crawled in beside her:
"Nana, do snowmen die?"
Her Nan didn't answer her
Just held her very tight
And snow fell as they slept
On this very HOLY night.
SNOW FUN IN THE 50'S
SNOW FUN
Much to our delight, Nova Scotia had lots of snow while we were growing up. We shared ice skates, sleds, flying saucers and toboggans. Our favourite place to slide was down "Arthur Doane's Hill", about a quarter mile up the road. There was a barbed wire fence at the bottom of the hill, so we had to remember to duck our heads. We'd stay for hours, sliding down and then trudging back up.
I was too lazy to go all the way home to use the outside toilet, so I'd just wet my pants! My reasoning was that since I was already wet from all the ice and snow, no-one would even notice. But when we ran home for dinner (lunch), the others would tell on me, because they could smell me. And no-one wanted to get on my sled with me since I stunk!
At the house, someone (usually Daddy, if he was home) would "sweep" us, one at a time, before we could go inside. We'd first enter the cold, unheated porch where we'd hang up our wet snowsuits on nails; our mittens, boots, scarves, etc. would all be left out there too.
Once in our warm kitchen, we'd all gather around the wood stove, used both for heating the whole 2 story house and for cooking. We woud sit in a kitchen chair, put a large log of firewood inside the oven and stick our frozen feet on top of the warmed wood. It would only take a minute or two as one's feet would get very hot, very quickly!
What joy to sit together and eat platefuls of hot beef stew or liver & onions with gravy, etc. There usually was homemade white bread, homemade butter, milk from our cow and a date square or cinnamon roll for dessert.
If we ate our big meal at supper time, it was usually at five o'clock sharp, unless the train was late and we had to wait on daddy. He worked for the C.N.R. (Canadian National Railway) most of the time. I recall that he also drove the snowplough some winters, so perhaps the railroad job was in the summer & Fall months. When he'd arrive home in his coveralls, very tired and very dirty, he'd first wash up in our kitchen sink. Before we had running water, we just had a pump. He seemed to take forever and I thought I may starrve to death before he finished.
Often, it would be dark and Mum would light the aladdin oil lamp to see by. I was always scared that one of my rowdy brothers would knock it over while arm wrestling or something and we'd all go up in smoke!
Sometimes, after supper and our lessons were all done, we'd don our snow gear again, grab our dull skates from the nail and walk briskly to a frozen river or pond. The bigger boys would build a huge, blazing bon-fire with old rubber tires and we'd sit near it, on old tree stumps or rocks to lace our skates up good & tight. Then, we'd skate off as fast and as far as we could, singing or laughing and holding mittened hands with one another. It would be pitch black and freezing cold, with only the Milky Way to light our way back home.
Our feather beds would be waiting for our cold, tired but very happy bodies. So cold, we could see our breath in the moonlight of our rooms. So cold that what we put in the "chamber pail" during the long night, would have a thin layer of ice by dawn.
How safe and comforted I felt, awaiting Santa Claus with Jack frost to keep us amused. But most of all, how loved I felt!
Much to our delight, Nova Scotia had lots of snow while we were growing up. We shared ice skates, sleds, flying saucers and toboggans. Our favourite place to slide was down "Arthur Doane's Hill", about a quarter mile up the road. There was a barbed wire fence at the bottom of the hill, so we had to remember to duck our heads. We'd stay for hours, sliding down and then trudging back up.
I was too lazy to go all the way home to use the outside toilet, so I'd just wet my pants! My reasoning was that since I was already wet from all the ice and snow, no-one would even notice. But when we ran home for dinner (lunch), the others would tell on me, because they could smell me. And no-one wanted to get on my sled with me since I stunk!
At the house, someone (usually Daddy, if he was home) would "sweep" us, one at a time, before we could go inside. We'd first enter the cold, unheated porch where we'd hang up our wet snowsuits on nails; our mittens, boots, scarves, etc. would all be left out there too.
Once in our warm kitchen, we'd all gather around the wood stove, used both for heating the whole 2 story house and for cooking. We woud sit in a kitchen chair, put a large log of firewood inside the oven and stick our frozen feet on top of the warmed wood. It would only take a minute or two as one's feet would get very hot, very quickly!
What joy to sit together and eat platefuls of hot beef stew or liver & onions with gravy, etc. There usually was homemade white bread, homemade butter, milk from our cow and a date square or cinnamon roll for dessert.
If we ate our big meal at supper time, it was usually at five o'clock sharp, unless the train was late and we had to wait on daddy. He worked for the C.N.R. (Canadian National Railway) most of the time. I recall that he also drove the snowplough some winters, so perhaps the railroad job was in the summer & Fall months. When he'd arrive home in his coveralls, very tired and very dirty, he'd first wash up in our kitchen sink. Before we had running water, we just had a pump. He seemed to take forever and I thought I may starrve to death before he finished.
Often, it would be dark and Mum would light the aladdin oil lamp to see by. I was always scared that one of my rowdy brothers would knock it over while arm wrestling or something and we'd all go up in smoke!
Sometimes, after supper and our lessons were all done, we'd don our snow gear again, grab our dull skates from the nail and walk briskly to a frozen river or pond. The bigger boys would build a huge, blazing bon-fire with old rubber tires and we'd sit near it, on old tree stumps or rocks to lace our skates up good & tight. Then, we'd skate off as fast and as far as we could, singing or laughing and holding mittened hands with one another. It would be pitch black and freezing cold, with only the Milky Way to light our way back home.
Our feather beds would be waiting for our cold, tired but very happy bodies. So cold, we could see our breath in the moonlight of our rooms. So cold that what we put in the "chamber pail" during the long night, would have a thin layer of ice by dawn.
How safe and comforted I felt, awaiting Santa Claus with Jack frost to keep us amused. But most of all, how loved I felt!
IF THIS OLD HOUSE COULD SPEAK
IF THIS OLD HOUSE COULD SPEAK
As the sound of wind echos the noise
From a new kitchen radio
And the smell of the sea
Now a deep part of me
Rushes to shore just below;
The attic holds stuff in storage
The supports are strong, not weak
In between the rafters & plaster
I wonder what it would say
If this old house could speak.
A brand new home in 1908
Noble Smith must have been proud
As he entered the Military
To fight for his Country
Bombs terrifying and loud;
The old house stood firm
A foundation built with love
Awaiting the return of a soldier
And months turned to years
As God watched from above
And the family inside grew older.
When the old house was fifty
It rocked with a family of five
Who lived & loved with-in it
Learning and growing together
Laughing, aging, alive!
Soon the father & mother
Saw their family leave the nest
And tho they sent their blessings
And always sent their love
They'd tried to do their best.
But when they, too, left the Island
Brand new owners slept inside
And the house got a facelift
But soon 'twas just a woman
And then, too soon, she died.
If this old house could speak
It would long for yesterday
The sounds of kids laughter
Long into the nights
Where their growing bodies lay.
Now a lady and her dog
Reside and care for it
The sea still rushes to the shore
And surrounded by the fog
The house just waits and sits---
Longing for Snackie and Gerald
And a heart-broken Susan Blair
And hoping it can stand with age
Another storm, another's rage
Year after year after year.
As the sound of wind echos the noise
From a new kitchen radio
And the smell of the sea
Now a deep part of me
Rushes to shore just below;
The attic holds stuff in storage
The supports are strong, not weak
In between the rafters & plaster
I wonder what it would say
If this old house could speak.
A brand new home in 1908
Noble Smith must have been proud
As he entered the Military
To fight for his Country
Bombs terrifying and loud;
The old house stood firm
A foundation built with love
Awaiting the return of a soldier
And months turned to years
As God watched from above
And the family inside grew older.
When the old house was fifty
It rocked with a family of five
Who lived & loved with-in it
Learning and growing together
Laughing, aging, alive!
Soon the father & mother
Saw their family leave the nest
And tho they sent their blessings
And always sent their love
They'd tried to do their best.
But when they, too, left the Island
Brand new owners slept inside
And the house got a facelift
But soon 'twas just a woman
And then, too soon, she died.
If this old house could speak
It would long for yesterday
The sounds of kids laughter
Long into the nights
Where their growing bodies lay.
Now a lady and her dog
Reside and care for it
The sea still rushes to the shore
And surrounded by the fog
The house just waits and sits---
Longing for Snackie and Gerald
And a heart-broken Susan Blair
And hoping it can stand with age
Another storm, another's rage
Year after year after year.
CAMO
"CAMO"
The old man kicked him for the last time as he took him to the local animal shelter. "Here, take him! He's run away from me for the last time; keep the damn thing!"
After he had completed filling out the dog's name and birthdate, he left without so much as a final good-bye. The dog must have been scared and lonely as they left him inside a small cage before admitting him to the Pound where hundreds of other dogs in all breeds and sizes, looked him over. It was very noisy in there and he trembled with fear; after all, he was just 26 pounds without a Pedigree.
He had tried to do exactly as his master had wanted but after he had lost his parents and brothers and sisters, he didn't know all the rules. No-one had ever taught him manners and he ran away every chance he could get.
At least in the Pound, he wasn't being beaten and yelled at and called dirty names. People came to look at him through the bars of his cage but he didn't seem to care if they chose him or not. He was tired of them staring and whispering and wondered to himself why he didn't die? He was sick and couldn't eat and seldom used the bathroom.
When the dark haired teenager and a lady stopped to see him and asked to walk him around a bit, he was so nervous he peed on her purse. She din't seem to mind. When he heard the boy tell her that he was the only dog he wanted for his 16th birthday and she agreed, he wondered why? "Why would they want me?" He heard them discussing how many days he had left before being "put down"......3 days. It said so on the outside of his cage, he heard her say to her son.
On the way to their home, he threw up inside the lady's convertible when he got car-sick. He had never been allowed to ride around in a vehicle before. Once home, he thought he was in trouble already when he left a stream of red blood all over their pale beige carpeting. He over-heard them saying that he must be returned to the Pound since he appeared to be so ill. They didn't want him!
But after tending to him that week-end because the Pound was closed, they took him to a Doctor and left him there all day on Monday. After tests and shots, the Doctor told the family that "Camo" (short for camophalge) just needed to get stronger so he could be neutered; the bleeding had already stopped. It was obvious this animal had been abused and would need some TLC to feel safe again.
In no time at all, he was healthy enough to have the operation and when he was brought home all groggy and weak, they tended him and cared for him. He began to trust them. Camo slept with the boy and was petted and given good food and much love. He was now a 31 pound, black & white Border Collie and proud to be part of a good family.
But the lad soon moved away to University & Camo stayed with the lady; they slept together, him at the foot of her bed. One day, she told him they were going far away but assured him she would never leave him. He went to Nova Scotia and had plenty of room to roam in an old, lovely house by the sea. He had so many windows to see out of and he loved it!
Together, they walked the Boardwalk and the beaches; they rode in the car to watch the waves crashing against the rocks. He waited for her to come home whenever she went somewhere's without him and always welcomed her with a wagging tail and eyes full of love. They became inseparable. He trusted her implicitly and knew she would never abandon him nor he her.
Now, approaching his 11th dog year, he has started to slow down a bit and sometimes his bones ache too. They have aged, albeit gracefully, together. One day, she knows she will be without her handsome, well-mannered and brilliant dog but until that day, she will continue to love him with all of her heart and soul. At that time, she will pray for strength to let God take over Camo's care.
But for now, they live and love in their old home by the Ocean and marvel at all of life's many blessings. He knows her every move and thought; she leans on him in times of stress and he comforts her. Some say he's just a dog but she knows better; he's her baby; her life-line; her security blanket. God is good.
The old man kicked him for the last time as he took him to the local animal shelter. "Here, take him! He's run away from me for the last time; keep the damn thing!"
After he had completed filling out the dog's name and birthdate, he left without so much as a final good-bye. The dog must have been scared and lonely as they left him inside a small cage before admitting him to the Pound where hundreds of other dogs in all breeds and sizes, looked him over. It was very noisy in there and he trembled with fear; after all, he was just 26 pounds without a Pedigree.
He had tried to do exactly as his master had wanted but after he had lost his parents and brothers and sisters, he didn't know all the rules. No-one had ever taught him manners and he ran away every chance he could get.
At least in the Pound, he wasn't being beaten and yelled at and called dirty names. People came to look at him through the bars of his cage but he didn't seem to care if they chose him or not. He was tired of them staring and whispering and wondered to himself why he didn't die? He was sick and couldn't eat and seldom used the bathroom.
When the dark haired teenager and a lady stopped to see him and asked to walk him around a bit, he was so nervous he peed on her purse. She din't seem to mind. When he heard the boy tell her that he was the only dog he wanted for his 16th birthday and she agreed, he wondered why? "Why would they want me?" He heard them discussing how many days he had left before being "put down"......3 days. It said so on the outside of his cage, he heard her say to her son.
On the way to their home, he threw up inside the lady's convertible when he got car-sick. He had never been allowed to ride around in a vehicle before. Once home, he thought he was in trouble already when he left a stream of red blood all over their pale beige carpeting. He over-heard them saying that he must be returned to the Pound since he appeared to be so ill. They didn't want him!
But after tending to him that week-end because the Pound was closed, they took him to a Doctor and left him there all day on Monday. After tests and shots, the Doctor told the family that "Camo" (short for camophalge) just needed to get stronger so he could be neutered; the bleeding had already stopped. It was obvious this animal had been abused and would need some TLC to feel safe again.
In no time at all, he was healthy enough to have the operation and when he was brought home all groggy and weak, they tended him and cared for him. He began to trust them. Camo slept with the boy and was petted and given good food and much love. He was now a 31 pound, black & white Border Collie and proud to be part of a good family.
But the lad soon moved away to University & Camo stayed with the lady; they slept together, him at the foot of her bed. One day, she told him they were going far away but assured him she would never leave him. He went to Nova Scotia and had plenty of room to roam in an old, lovely house by the sea. He had so many windows to see out of and he loved it!
Together, they walked the Boardwalk and the beaches; they rode in the car to watch the waves crashing against the rocks. He waited for her to come home whenever she went somewhere's without him and always welcomed her with a wagging tail and eyes full of love. They became inseparable. He trusted her implicitly and knew she would never abandon him nor he her.
Now, approaching his 11th dog year, he has started to slow down a bit and sometimes his bones ache too. They have aged, albeit gracefully, together. One day, she knows she will be without her handsome, well-mannered and brilliant dog but until that day, she will continue to love him with all of her heart and soul. At that time, she will pray for strength to let God take over Camo's care.
But for now, they live and love in their old home by the Ocean and marvel at all of life's many blessings. He knows her every move and thought; she leans on him in times of stress and he comforts her. Some say he's just a dog but she knows better; he's her baby; her life-line; her security blanket. God is good.
EASTER
EASTER
At the beginning of Spring when I small, I knew it wouldn't be long until Easter. Our school would close for awhile and usually, the snow would have melted and left us until next winter.
Birds would reappear and some trees and plants would magically transform once again. We could sometimes shed our jackets and make do with just a sweater. The time would change to Daylight Savings time and that meant another hour of daylight to play ball, hopscotch, marbles or swing on our swings outside.
My mother would start planning her Easter music program in early March. She always attended early sunrise services at our Church and at the 11 am service, would present beautiful Easter Cantatta's. It would be a combined choir effort in which the Junior choir, the Senior choir and a special Men's choir would all join voices. People would attend from miles arround and talk about it for weeks afterwards, pleasing my mother immensely.
The day before Easter she would take time to boil some old dark colored clothes and use the colored water to dip hard boiled eggs into. Our eggs were always blue or red. I don't remember getting any candy for Easter and we never had an Easter basket or an easter egg hunt.
But I did get an Easter bonnet one year and almost always received a new dress or a coat. It may not be brand new but if our cousins from Mass. had sent one, having outgrown them, then it was new to me. And we were all so grateful!
What I liked best about Easter in Barrington, Nova Scotia, was our Sunday dinner. We would all change out of our Sunday finest and sit down to a baked ham (Picnic Shoulder, often times from our own pig), mashed potatoes, mashed turnips, real homemade butter, fried eggs, hot cross buns, Mom's bread & butter pickles and beets. Dessert was usually a lemon or apple pie.
We all knew the story of why we celebrated Easter and we talked about it while waiting to go up to bed on Easter night. The beginning of Spring; the Easter music; the family dinner with plates that never matched; Jesus; what more could a little girl ask for?
"Put on your Easter bonnet
With all the frills upon it
You'll be the prettiest lady
In the easter parade."
At the beginning of Spring when I small, I knew it wouldn't be long until Easter. Our school would close for awhile and usually, the snow would have melted and left us until next winter.
Birds would reappear and some trees and plants would magically transform once again. We could sometimes shed our jackets and make do with just a sweater. The time would change to Daylight Savings time and that meant another hour of daylight to play ball, hopscotch, marbles or swing on our swings outside.
My mother would start planning her Easter music program in early March. She always attended early sunrise services at our Church and at the 11 am service, would present beautiful Easter Cantatta's. It would be a combined choir effort in which the Junior choir, the Senior choir and a special Men's choir would all join voices. People would attend from miles arround and talk about it for weeks afterwards, pleasing my mother immensely.
The day before Easter she would take time to boil some old dark colored clothes and use the colored water to dip hard boiled eggs into. Our eggs were always blue or red. I don't remember getting any candy for Easter and we never had an Easter basket or an easter egg hunt.
But I did get an Easter bonnet one year and almost always received a new dress or a coat. It may not be brand new but if our cousins from Mass. had sent one, having outgrown them, then it was new to me. And we were all so grateful!
What I liked best about Easter in Barrington, Nova Scotia, was our Sunday dinner. We would all change out of our Sunday finest and sit down to a baked ham (Picnic Shoulder, often times from our own pig), mashed potatoes, mashed turnips, real homemade butter, fried eggs, hot cross buns, Mom's bread & butter pickles and beets. Dessert was usually a lemon or apple pie.
We all knew the story of why we celebrated Easter and we talked about it while waiting to go up to bed on Easter night. The beginning of Spring; the Easter music; the family dinner with plates that never matched; Jesus; what more could a little girl ask for?
"Put on your Easter bonnet
With all the frills upon it
You'll be the prettiest lady
In the easter parade."
BOARDWALK ANGEL
BOARDWALK ANGEL
The sun was setting in the west
The birds had gone to sleep
The tourists had all gone home
The water: still and deep.
She wore a dress of gingham
Her hair blew in the wind
Barefoot, tanned and hungry
For only thoughts of him.
The ocean lay in front of her
The land seemed far away
As this 'lil boardwalk angel
Tossed her dreams away.
Far off in the distance
She heard a seagull 's cry
It sounded like a final call
Before he drowned and died.
The wind had turned into a chill
As she realized it was late
She saw the lights of her home
The boardwalk now a taste of fate.
The seagull chose his destiny
For while she sensed the danger
Home seemed more inviting
To this lovesick boardwalk angel.
The sun was setting in the west
The birds had gone to sleep
The tourists had all gone home
The water: still and deep.
She wore a dress of gingham
Her hair blew in the wind
Barefoot, tanned and hungry
For only thoughts of him.
The ocean lay in front of her
The land seemed far away
As this 'lil boardwalk angel
Tossed her dreams away.
Far off in the distance
She heard a seagull 's cry
It sounded like a final call
Before he drowned and died.
The wind had turned into a chill
As she realized it was late
She saw the lights of her home
The boardwalk now a taste of fate.
The seagull chose his destiny
For while she sensed the danger
Home seemed more inviting
To this lovesick boardwalk angel.
For "MARY", a guest at my B & B
She swam into my life like a slithering snake on a log; rolling into our sea when the sun had barely crested the horizon. Alone with nature, this woman strutted her stuff with the elements of our environment, bathing in its natural beauty like an overture in motion.
The short day that she was here changed the fine tuning of my mind and sealed its fate to a euphoric feeling of instant gratification. The sea is now more friendly, the natural habitat more open to the sound of my own feet and all's sweeter because she came, she shared, she swept away any doubts or preconceived ideas one had of a stranger.
Because of her, there is no such thing as a stranger anymore.
The short day that she was here changed the fine tuning of my mind and sealed its fate to a euphoric feeling of instant gratification. The sea is now more friendly, the natural habitat more open to the sound of my own feet and all's sweeter because she came, she shared, she swept away any doubts or preconceived ideas one had of a stranger.
Because of her, there is no such thing as a stranger anymore.
JUNE AND I
June & I
It must have been about 1953 when I first remember meeting my cousin, June Kendrick. We were both just five years old and starting school together at Hibbard's Brook School. It was a one-room schoolhouse and our Primary teacher's name was Mrs. Hurd.
My seatmate was Connie Coffin, a girl from Coffinscroft. At recess, June and Connie and I would laugh and talk and play games. June always wore her black hair in ringlets or curls and she had laughing black eyes. Oftentimes, we'd get her in trouble by wading through the mudflaps alonside the water on our way home. Her nice shoes would be ruined!
I remember always trying to catch up with her in our grades as she was very smart and made the best grades of anyone. We were all very involved with our annual Christmas concert and I recall June's lovely singing voice.
June's parents weren't rich as no-one in our community was but they did have a vehicle so to me, they seemed rich. She had a brother and although he was younger than us, we all played together. Clifford was very cute, funny and exceptionally smart.
June and I were always in the same class as we were the same age. We used to try to sit next to one another but inevitably, our teachers would separate us. We had Faye Brannen, Miss Smith, Brenda Newell, Louise Perry, Doris Shatford as some of our elementary teachers. I had a crush on Peter Atwood; she liked all the boys and they liked her, especially Glenn Ryer.
After school and on weekends, my brother Junior and I would walk up to June's house or she and Cliff would come to ours. If it was bad weather outside, we'd sit inside and play card games like Muggins, Crazy 8's or we'd play croconole, checkers & Blind Man's Bluff.
Winter months, we'd all go to Arthur Doane's hill to slide down on our sleds and toboggans or flying saucers. Sometimes after supper we'd all walk up to the river to ice-skate. Our other girlfriends, Joyce fisher, Ellen Roberts & Linda Crowell would often accompany us. There, we'd meet up with Patti Scott & others.
When I first met Johnny Watt, I developed a crush but it was quite obvious he preferred June's company. We were growing up! June's dad drove us in to Shelburne where we'd sit to eat inside the brightly lit Ritz restaurant. When older, we'd go to the local dances in Shelburne and Grafton, her dad, would sit in his car with her mum, Helen, and wait patiently for us. I can still see his handsome face sitting behind the wheel, smiling and smoking. Our favourites were the street dances!
Sometimes, June and I were bored and so we'd play silly games like dressing up to pretend we wanted to go on the bus that traveled thru our village en route to the big city. It would stop, we'd run and then explode in laughter.
Before we developed properly and were impatient, waiting, we borrowed my sister's bra's and stuffed them with toilet paper. Then we'd don a sweater to accentuate our full bustline and prance up and down the roads. We were thrilled when cars would honk at us!
Junior, Clifford, June and I used to peep in neighbor's windows and help ourselves to radishes from Wilford Watt's garden. One day, we were munching away when his housekeeper, Mrs. Firth from Lockeport, stepped off the bus. We had to lay low and hold our breaths so as not to be detected! She walked right past us and when she went inside, we scurried home.
At Halloween we all had such fun and played harmless pranks on people like Ken Wilson and Nina Turner. In the summers, we would go down behind my house to sun and swim in the Ocean. Mum would fix us vinegar drink and cucumber sandwiches. I remember June called her "Aunt Lena"; I liked that.
June and I would walk five miles to see a show at the Goudy Theatre, sometimes meeting Carol Christy there and all sitting together. One time, June suggested we hitch-hike home and a man in a big car picked us up. He warned us that it was dangerous and made us promise we would not do that again; we didn't.
One thing we did almost every day was to walk to get the mail from the Post Office. Our Box # was 11. I remember June's phone number was 69 while ours was 75. We used to sit and listen to the radio, the only station we received was from Boston, "WMEX". We fell in love with the records of the Everly Brothers, the Beach Boys, Roy Orberson, Connie Francis, Brenda Lee, Johnny Tillotson and of course, Elvis Presley. We did not even know what any of them looked like for a very long time.
My oldest brother brought a black & white Zenith television home with him from California and we all sat around it's round, snowy screen to watch. There was the Roy Rogers Show, the Mickey Mouse Club, The Lone Ranger, Bonanza, The Rifleman, etc. We even sat and watched each and every commercial and stayed in front of the set watching Test Pattern, waiting to see if by some miracle, it would show another episode of Rescue 8 or the Ed Sullivan Show. We were addicted!
Winter spent sledding and building snowmen or snowangels, summer spent playing baseball or swimming, spring spent watching the boys kiacking or shedding our jackets for a sweater, autumn spent at Beaver Dam or planning our Halloween outfits.........what joy, what fun, what great times we had.
Our parents weren't rich but were always there for us; we never had to be separated from them; they gave us love and support and encouragement, introduced us to Church and God. We had wonderful grandparents, neighbors and friends, we wanted for nothing. We felt safe and protected in our small community, we excelled in school, we were happy & healthy!
One day, June offered me a cigarette and as I was too embarressed to tell her I had never smoked at the ripe old age of 13, I inhaled and threw up all the way home from Stan Kenney's garage!
Soon, we grew up. June and I traveled in different directions and chose our individual paths. I lost my Mum & then we both lost our dads in the mid 90's and our brothers in the early 2000's. We each have a son and a daughter, none of whom have yet married.
Life has been both good and bad; we have made mistakes; we have learned lessons and we have been blessed. The future lies ahead and is unknown as we continue on our journey through life. I have always felt lucky to have June as my cousin and my friend.
We do not forget where we began because "memory is one gift of God that time cannot destroy."
It must have been about 1953 when I first remember meeting my cousin, June Kendrick. We were both just five years old and starting school together at Hibbard's Brook School. It was a one-room schoolhouse and our Primary teacher's name was Mrs. Hurd.
My seatmate was Connie Coffin, a girl from Coffinscroft. At recess, June and Connie and I would laugh and talk and play games. June always wore her black hair in ringlets or curls and she had laughing black eyes. Oftentimes, we'd get her in trouble by wading through the mudflaps alonside the water on our way home. Her nice shoes would be ruined!
I remember always trying to catch up with her in our grades as she was very smart and made the best grades of anyone. We were all very involved with our annual Christmas concert and I recall June's lovely singing voice.
June's parents weren't rich as no-one in our community was but they did have a vehicle so to me, they seemed rich. She had a brother and although he was younger than us, we all played together. Clifford was very cute, funny and exceptionally smart.
June and I were always in the same class as we were the same age. We used to try to sit next to one another but inevitably, our teachers would separate us. We had Faye Brannen, Miss Smith, Brenda Newell, Louise Perry, Doris Shatford as some of our elementary teachers. I had a crush on Peter Atwood; she liked all the boys and they liked her, especially Glenn Ryer.
After school and on weekends, my brother Junior and I would walk up to June's house or she and Cliff would come to ours. If it was bad weather outside, we'd sit inside and play card games like Muggins, Crazy 8's or we'd play croconole, checkers & Blind Man's Bluff.
Winter months, we'd all go to Arthur Doane's hill to slide down on our sleds and toboggans or flying saucers. Sometimes after supper we'd all walk up to the river to ice-skate. Our other girlfriends, Joyce fisher, Ellen Roberts & Linda Crowell would often accompany us. There, we'd meet up with Patti Scott & others.
When I first met Johnny Watt, I developed a crush but it was quite obvious he preferred June's company. We were growing up! June's dad drove us in to Shelburne where we'd sit to eat inside the brightly lit Ritz restaurant. When older, we'd go to the local dances in Shelburne and Grafton, her dad, would sit in his car with her mum, Helen, and wait patiently for us. I can still see his handsome face sitting behind the wheel, smiling and smoking. Our favourites were the street dances!
Sometimes, June and I were bored and so we'd play silly games like dressing up to pretend we wanted to go on the bus that traveled thru our village en route to the big city. It would stop, we'd run and then explode in laughter.
Before we developed properly and were impatient, waiting, we borrowed my sister's bra's and stuffed them with toilet paper. Then we'd don a sweater to accentuate our full bustline and prance up and down the roads. We were thrilled when cars would honk at us!
Junior, Clifford, June and I used to peep in neighbor's windows and help ourselves to radishes from Wilford Watt's garden. One day, we were munching away when his housekeeper, Mrs. Firth from Lockeport, stepped off the bus. We had to lay low and hold our breaths so as not to be detected! She walked right past us and when she went inside, we scurried home.
At Halloween we all had such fun and played harmless pranks on people like Ken Wilson and Nina Turner. In the summers, we would go down behind my house to sun and swim in the Ocean. Mum would fix us vinegar drink and cucumber sandwiches. I remember June called her "Aunt Lena"; I liked that.
June and I would walk five miles to see a show at the Goudy Theatre, sometimes meeting Carol Christy there and all sitting together. One time, June suggested we hitch-hike home and a man in a big car picked us up. He warned us that it was dangerous and made us promise we would not do that again; we didn't.
One thing we did almost every day was to walk to get the mail from the Post Office. Our Box # was 11. I remember June's phone number was 69 while ours was 75. We used to sit and listen to the radio, the only station we received was from Boston, "WMEX". We fell in love with the records of the Everly Brothers, the Beach Boys, Roy Orberson, Connie Francis, Brenda Lee, Johnny Tillotson and of course, Elvis Presley. We did not even know what any of them looked like for a very long time.
My oldest brother brought a black & white Zenith television home with him from California and we all sat around it's round, snowy screen to watch. There was the Roy Rogers Show, the Mickey Mouse Club, The Lone Ranger, Bonanza, The Rifleman, etc. We even sat and watched each and every commercial and stayed in front of the set watching Test Pattern, waiting to see if by some miracle, it would show another episode of Rescue 8 or the Ed Sullivan Show. We were addicted!
Winter spent sledding and building snowmen or snowangels, summer spent playing baseball or swimming, spring spent watching the boys kiacking or shedding our jackets for a sweater, autumn spent at Beaver Dam or planning our Halloween outfits.........what joy, what fun, what great times we had.
Our parents weren't rich but were always there for us; we never had to be separated from them; they gave us love and support and encouragement, introduced us to Church and God. We had wonderful grandparents, neighbors and friends, we wanted for nothing. We felt safe and protected in our small community, we excelled in school, we were happy & healthy!
One day, June offered me a cigarette and as I was too embarressed to tell her I had never smoked at the ripe old age of 13, I inhaled and threw up all the way home from Stan Kenney's garage!
Soon, we grew up. June and I traveled in different directions and chose our individual paths. I lost my Mum & then we both lost our dads in the mid 90's and our brothers in the early 2000's. We each have a son and a daughter, none of whom have yet married.
Life has been both good and bad; we have made mistakes; we have learned lessons and we have been blessed. The future lies ahead and is unknown as we continue on our journey through life. I have always felt lucky to have June as my cousin and my friend.
We do not forget where we began because "memory is one gift of God that time cannot destroy."
A Day At the Beach
The summer sun has finally arrived in my small part of the Universe on Cape Sable Island. Never have the sunsets been more startling and the sunrises so early and breathtaking. God is sweeping final touches on the sea as He paints broad, bold patterns in the bright sky.
I stare in wonder as a completely all-white, huge seagull dominates the landscape behind my house. I realize it is a rare bird but its name escapes me at this moment in time. I watch as he prevails over the dozens of smaller, less important seagulls, as if to demand respect and humility. They acquiesce to his demeanor and sit quietly nearby on the rocks at low tide.
Wearily, I unpack the car of the trappings necessary for a picnic today at the beach. The camera was inconsequential in that the batteries were not recharged and so it was unable to record this day in history. The memories made today will have to subside in my mind until brought forth for some long winters night when sleep eludes me and I conjure up visions of sand and sea to lull me to sleep.
The car is full of sand where my dog sat on our way home today; vacuuming will have to wait for another time. I carry the now-empty picnic basket and my transistor radio into the house and return to carry in my beach towels, book, sunscreen and lounge chair. Ouch! The sunburn on the back of my neck reminds me that we stayed one extra hour too long today.
Inside the picnic basket are the dirty melmac plates and glasses where we ate fried chicken, potato salad and watermelon. Empty cans of coca-cola are tossed in the trash as are the last few potato chips and half a Sweet Marie bar. The few small rocks and seashells found along the sea on todays trek, are put in the dishpan to be washed off of their salty presense.
Everything is put away and a shower erases the surf and salt and sand from my suntanned body. Extra moisturizing lotion and conditioner for my hair allows for refreshment and calls for a soft, white cotton, sleeveless nightgown. With wet hair, I sit here at the computer with an iced tea and lemon and search to see if anyone has missed me today.
As the sun sets once again behind Blue haven, it appears to me that this has been almost a perfect day in my short life. With my beloved dog for company and the special (picnic) nourishment I chose for my appetite and God's masterpiece as a mural, I have just experienced almost the perfect day in Paradise.
I day dreamed in my lounge chair while watching and listening to the waves and Camo's gentle barking. Favourite songs played near-by on the radio as I contemplated my future and reconciled my past. The ocean's roar and the pacifying music brought forth a nostalgic melody deep within my heart and I was at peace with nature.
Three sand castles later, Camo dug them up while I laughed aloud. The warm sand felt marvelous under my toes and the silence of the beach today was tranquil and private. No-one but us to savor the moments.
As we walked along the cliffs and waded in the cool sea today, life seemed to start anew for it was reminiscent of when I was a small child and held my daddy's big strong hand. Just knowing he was there was all I needed. I remember he smelled like fresh mown hay and the animals in our barn. I loved the aroma of my father and it all came back to me in a rush this afternoon.
While many gathered in public today to view their town's Parade and musical celebrations and food from the sea, I kept company with myself and found a solace deep within my own chemistry and solitude. I prayed for guidance, strength and endurance while I face the remaining seasons of my life here on earth. I thanked Him who has made it all possible.
The picnic is over; the things are all put away along with my memories of this moment in time. Because life is just a maze filled with special moments and memories! Today the sun was close and blazing and hot; soon it will be a frigid winter's day again with raw winds whipping around my heavy woolen skirts. But today my bare legs embraced the sun's rays and welcomed home it's radiance.
Today is precious; tomorrow is uncertain; yesterday is gone forever. The lone domineering seagull has flown away; the fresh laundry is removed from the clothesline where it blew and dried all day long. My dog is sound asleep upstairs and I sit with an empty cup in a cool nightdress, alone. By now the Parade and events must be over and life is returning to normal for others.
I wouldn't trade today with any of them; I am a woman who spent the day being 5 years old again; what can compare to that??
I stare in wonder as a completely all-white, huge seagull dominates the landscape behind my house. I realize it is a rare bird but its name escapes me at this moment in time. I watch as he prevails over the dozens of smaller, less important seagulls, as if to demand respect and humility. They acquiesce to his demeanor and sit quietly nearby on the rocks at low tide.
Wearily, I unpack the car of the trappings necessary for a picnic today at the beach. The camera was inconsequential in that the batteries were not recharged and so it was unable to record this day in history. The memories made today will have to subside in my mind until brought forth for some long winters night when sleep eludes me and I conjure up visions of sand and sea to lull me to sleep.
The car is full of sand where my dog sat on our way home today; vacuuming will have to wait for another time. I carry the now-empty picnic basket and my transistor radio into the house and return to carry in my beach towels, book, sunscreen and lounge chair. Ouch! The sunburn on the back of my neck reminds me that we stayed one extra hour too long today.
Inside the picnic basket are the dirty melmac plates and glasses where we ate fried chicken, potato salad and watermelon. Empty cans of coca-cola are tossed in the trash as are the last few potato chips and half a Sweet Marie bar. The few small rocks and seashells found along the sea on todays trek, are put in the dishpan to be washed off of their salty presense.
Everything is put away and a shower erases the surf and salt and sand from my suntanned body. Extra moisturizing lotion and conditioner for my hair allows for refreshment and calls for a soft, white cotton, sleeveless nightgown. With wet hair, I sit here at the computer with an iced tea and lemon and search to see if anyone has missed me today.
As the sun sets once again behind Blue haven, it appears to me that this has been almost a perfect day in my short life. With my beloved dog for company and the special (picnic) nourishment I chose for my appetite and God's masterpiece as a mural, I have just experienced almost the perfect day in Paradise.
I day dreamed in my lounge chair while watching and listening to the waves and Camo's gentle barking. Favourite songs played near-by on the radio as I contemplated my future and reconciled my past. The ocean's roar and the pacifying music brought forth a nostalgic melody deep within my heart and I was at peace with nature.
Three sand castles later, Camo dug them up while I laughed aloud. The warm sand felt marvelous under my toes and the silence of the beach today was tranquil and private. No-one but us to savor the moments.
As we walked along the cliffs and waded in the cool sea today, life seemed to start anew for it was reminiscent of when I was a small child and held my daddy's big strong hand. Just knowing he was there was all I needed. I remember he smelled like fresh mown hay and the animals in our barn. I loved the aroma of my father and it all came back to me in a rush this afternoon.
While many gathered in public today to view their town's Parade and musical celebrations and food from the sea, I kept company with myself and found a solace deep within my own chemistry and solitude. I prayed for guidance, strength and endurance while I face the remaining seasons of my life here on earth. I thanked Him who has made it all possible.
The picnic is over; the things are all put away along with my memories of this moment in time. Because life is just a maze filled with special moments and memories! Today the sun was close and blazing and hot; soon it will be a frigid winter's day again with raw winds whipping around my heavy woolen skirts. But today my bare legs embraced the sun's rays and welcomed home it's radiance.
Today is precious; tomorrow is uncertain; yesterday is gone forever. The lone domineering seagull has flown away; the fresh laundry is removed from the clothesline where it blew and dried all day long. My dog is sound asleep upstairs and I sit with an empty cup in a cool nightdress, alone. By now the Parade and events must be over and life is returning to normal for others.
I wouldn't trade today with any of them; I am a woman who spent the day being 5 years old again; what can compare to that??
BROTHER
BROTHER
Someone once said memories fade
When loved ones pass away
That time takes care of feelings
And soon there'll come a day
When we no longer feel a lump
Deep in our throat below
We'll not miss him quite as much
But they will never know:
How a brother made us smile
A brother made us proud
A twinkle in his eye
How he laughed out loud
How he took the time
To teach us everything
He's the reason we can hear
The melody when we sing.
Someone said that we'll forget
That tears will not be shed
As memories will disappear
Once a brother's dead
If we just get on with life
And look ahead, not back
Then we can readjust
But they forget we lack:
A brother who was full of life
And so full of love
God took him a bit early
To watch us from above
His eyes we cannot see
His voice we cannot hear
But he is still a brother
We miss year after year.
.
Someone once said memories fade
When loved ones pass away
That time takes care of feelings
And soon there'll come a day
When we no longer feel a lump
Deep in our throat below
We'll not miss him quite as much
But they will never know:
How a brother made us smile
A brother made us proud
A twinkle in his eye
How he laughed out loud
How he took the time
To teach us everything
He's the reason we can hear
The melody when we sing.
Someone said that we'll forget
That tears will not be shed
As memories will disappear
Once a brother's dead
If we just get on with life
And look ahead, not back
Then we can readjust
But they forget we lack:
A brother who was full of life
And so full of love
God took him a bit early
To watch us from above
His eyes we cannot see
His voice we cannot hear
But he is still a brother
We miss year after year.
.
AT THE MOVIES
AT THE MOVIES
SATURDAY! Mom’s wash day; Grammie & Grampa’s Sabbath; but oh, what a special day for me.
All week long we would collect pop bottles to redeem at Mr. Brown’s store. We never had pop at our house so we had to search for unbroken bottles in the ditches. What joy if I found the larger sized bottle, not broken. It was worth more money to put towards the amount I’d need to get into the "show."
By Friday, we’d usually have enough to go trade them in, after washing off most of the dirt. There was seldom any extra money for a delicious bag of salted peanuts and a cold bottle of Pepsi. If there was, we’d pour the peanuts into our pop and watch the show, blissfully unaware of anything else that may be happening elsewhere in our Universe.
When I got older and went to the show with my friends instead of my brother and sister, I’d have money made from babysitting a little boy whose family was with the U.S.A.F.
Usually, we’d all walk or ride our bikes down to the Goudy Theatre in Barrington Passage, a distance of 5 miles each way, in time to get "a good seat." I remember sometimes leaving one seat beside me empty in case a certain young fellow might choose to sit there. If one needed to use the bathroom, there were 2 outside toilets.
First, there was "News of the World" usually followed by a short clip of "The Little Rascals" or "The Three Stooges"; then they would show Previews of the upcoming movies. Sometimes during the movie, the film would stop or break midway through and a gang of unruly boys would stomp their rubber boots and holler loudly.
Once the show was over, we’d walk the 5 miles home in time to get the mail at the Post Office and hurry in for some Saturday night baked beans, Johnny cake or steamed brown bread. A few times we would hitch-hike home but I didn’t like lying to Mum about why I got home so early so I usually just walked the whole way with the others. It certainly was the high-light of my week and neither rain, wind, snow or ice could keep us away from going to the matinee on Saturday afternoons at one o’clock. "Hi yo Silver, away!"
SATURDAY! Mom’s wash day; Grammie & Grampa’s Sabbath; but oh, what a special day for me.
All week long we would collect pop bottles to redeem at Mr. Brown’s store. We never had pop at our house so we had to search for unbroken bottles in the ditches. What joy if I found the larger sized bottle, not broken. It was worth more money to put towards the amount I’d need to get into the "show."
By Friday, we’d usually have enough to go trade them in, after washing off most of the dirt. There was seldom any extra money for a delicious bag of salted peanuts and a cold bottle of Pepsi. If there was, we’d pour the peanuts into our pop and watch the show, blissfully unaware of anything else that may be happening elsewhere in our Universe.
When I got older and went to the show with my friends instead of my brother and sister, I’d have money made from babysitting a little boy whose family was with the U.S.A.F.
Usually, we’d all walk or ride our bikes down to the Goudy Theatre in Barrington Passage, a distance of 5 miles each way, in time to get "a good seat." I remember sometimes leaving one seat beside me empty in case a certain young fellow might choose to sit there. If one needed to use the bathroom, there were 2 outside toilets.
First, there was "News of the World" usually followed by a short clip of "The Little Rascals" or "The Three Stooges"; then they would show Previews of the upcoming movies. Sometimes during the movie, the film would stop or break midway through and a gang of unruly boys would stomp their rubber boots and holler loudly.
Once the show was over, we’d walk the 5 miles home in time to get the mail at the Post Office and hurry in for some Saturday night baked beans, Johnny cake or steamed brown bread. A few times we would hitch-hike home but I didn’t like lying to Mum about why I got home so early so I usually just walked the whole way with the others. It certainly was the high-light of my week and neither rain, wind, snow or ice could keep us away from going to the matinee on Saturday afternoons at one o’clock. "Hi yo Silver, away!"
THE VAGRANT
THE VAGRANT
The little boy said "Daddy
See that old man's home?
Look, there's no roof on it
And it's made of foam."
The father knew the homeless
Lived around this park
But never had he seen a house
Made of foam and bark.
"Son, that man's a vagrant
He doesn't work like me
He pays no taxes either
And gets his food for free."
As the dad sat on a bench nearby
His face stuck in a book
The child stepped closer to the hut
To have a better look.
There were candles everywhere
And home-made cigarettes
A candy bar and some gum
A paper that said "VETS".
His eyes then saw a Bible
And as he looked inside
He saw there was a picture
On it was inscribed:
"If you make it out alive
On this Christmas Eve
Think of me with fondness
Sargent, do not grieve."
The little boy sat outside
Wittling on a stick
Waiting while his daddy slept
The fog was getting thick.
Suddenly, he heard a noise
And looked up to see
The vagrant man had come "home"
No need for a house key.
His hair was white as snow
But his clothes neatly sewn
And he looked gaunt and fragile
With just skin & bones.
"Don't be 'fraid" he said aloud
"I may look funny and sad
But I left some things overseas
And they're all I ever had."
"'When you grow up and decide
What you want to do
Pray to God for courage
And some wisdom too."
"But above all else, son
On every Christmas Eve
Thank Him for the freedom
To worship and believe."
The dad awoke and they went "home"
But on this Holy Night
Heaven sent a little boy
Falling snow, so white.
The next day he saw the place
Which the old man called home
But it was replaced with snow
And now looked so alone.
Still all his life on Christmas Eve
He prayed for that old man
Who left his legs and buddies
Far away in Vietnam.
The little boy said "Daddy
See that old man's home?
Look, there's no roof on it
And it's made of foam."
The father knew the homeless
Lived around this park
But never had he seen a house
Made of foam and bark.
"Son, that man's a vagrant
He doesn't work like me
He pays no taxes either
And gets his food for free."
As the dad sat on a bench nearby
His face stuck in a book
The child stepped closer to the hut
To have a better look.
There were candles everywhere
And home-made cigarettes
A candy bar and some gum
A paper that said "VETS".
His eyes then saw a Bible
And as he looked inside
He saw there was a picture
On it was inscribed:
"If you make it out alive
On this Christmas Eve
Think of me with fondness
Sargent, do not grieve."
The little boy sat outside
Wittling on a stick
Waiting while his daddy slept
The fog was getting thick.
Suddenly, he heard a noise
And looked up to see
The vagrant man had come "home"
No need for a house key.
His hair was white as snow
But his clothes neatly sewn
And he looked gaunt and fragile
With just skin & bones.
"Don't be 'fraid" he said aloud
"I may look funny and sad
But I left some things overseas
And they're all I ever had."
"'When you grow up and decide
What you want to do
Pray to God for courage
And some wisdom too."
"But above all else, son
On every Christmas Eve
Thank Him for the freedom
To worship and believe."
The dad awoke and they went "home"
But on this Holy Night
Heaven sent a little boy
Falling snow, so white.
The next day he saw the place
Which the old man called home
But it was replaced with snow
And now looked so alone.
Still all his life on Christmas Eve
He prayed for that old man
Who left his legs and buddies
Far away in Vietnam.
THE SMELL OF DUSK
THE SMELL OF DUSK
The quacking of ducks in the water brings me to the window after drying the supper dishes and the red sky at sunset is breathtaking to my eyes.
As I walk to sit on the tallest rock in my freshly mown backyard, it's not the sound of the slowly paddling family of ducks or the sight of the setting sun that envelops me; it's the smell of dusk.
There's an aroma that lingers from the water in the sea and the air surrounding it that one differentiates from any other time of day or night. The salty moisture as one inhales; the smoky scent of the seaweed and the nearby wharf; the fresh clean air that freshens one's senses and allows one to breathe more deeply.
The red ball in the low sky has now touched the edge of the sea and blinds the human eye. Far up in the still-blue sky, the white vapor of a passing jet high in the Heavens, looks like a shooting arrow descending at me. A few cirrus clouds complete God's painting.
The sound of the quacking ducks dissapates as the red ball of fire becomes lower and lower but the sounds of dusk remain. One's heart is moved to such gladness and joy at being a part of this wholesome and inspiring spectacle. The sound of dusk----listen closely; it will make you, too, want to slow dance under God's masterpiece.
The quacking of ducks in the water brings me to the window after drying the supper dishes and the red sky at sunset is breathtaking to my eyes.
As I walk to sit on the tallest rock in my freshly mown backyard, it's not the sound of the slowly paddling family of ducks or the sight of the setting sun that envelops me; it's the smell of dusk.
There's an aroma that lingers from the water in the sea and the air surrounding it that one differentiates from any other time of day or night. The salty moisture as one inhales; the smoky scent of the seaweed and the nearby wharf; the fresh clean air that freshens one's senses and allows one to breathe more deeply.
The red ball in the low sky has now touched the edge of the sea and blinds the human eye. Far up in the still-blue sky, the white vapor of a passing jet high in the Heavens, looks like a shooting arrow descending at me. A few cirrus clouds complete God's painting.
The sound of the quacking ducks dissapates as the red ball of fire becomes lower and lower but the sounds of dusk remain. One's heart is moved to such gladness and joy at being a part of this wholesome and inspiring spectacle. The sound of dusk----listen closely; it will make you, too, want to slow dance under God's masterpiece.
ROD
ROD
In the twilight of the evening
As the sunlight said good-bye
In the early days of August
And the stars had lit the sky;
The phone rang as was usual
In his home by the sea
Though he wasn't there to answer
She said "Hi, this is Minnie."
A voice told her his given name
And said "This is a surprise
Please don't even say a word
I'm one of those guys
Who served in the U.S. Army
Back in fifty-two
And I am here to say hello
To my old friend and you."
He told her he was in N.S.
Traveled from the States
He'd found Rod on the Internet
"Surely this was Fate;"
She listened as he told her
They were in Peggy's Cove
But would be up tomorrow
As all night they had drove.
Silence greeted him and then
He heard a sad voice say:
"Rodney would have been so proud
To welcome you our way;
He often talked about you all
Soldiers from the States
Before he left to be with God
But you're 60 days too late."
In the twilight of the evening
As the sunlight said good-bye
In the early days of August
And the stars had lit the sky;
The phone rang as was usual
In his home by the sea
Though he wasn't there to answer
She said "Hi, this is Minnie."
A voice told her his given name
And said "This is a surprise
Please don't even say a word
I'm one of those guys
Who served in the U.S. Army
Back in fifty-two
And I am here to say hello
To my old friend and you."
He told her he was in N.S.
Traveled from the States
He'd found Rod on the Internet
"Surely this was Fate;"
She listened as he told her
They were in Peggy's Cove
But would be up tomorrow
As all night they had drove.
Silence greeted him and then
He heard a sad voice say:
"Rodney would have been so proud
To welcome you our way;
He often talked about you all
Soldiers from the States
Before he left to be with God
But you're 60 days too late."
THE PIN
THE PIN
She said "I want you to have this
And keep it close beside you
And when you miss someone
Or you're just feeling blue....
Think of all the moments
You shared with one another
And though you may be sad
It will make you better."
Time went by and many days
I caressed the pin she gave me
And sure enough, my heart lifted
And seemed to be the key
To readjust and reconnect
And somehow make life work
And I depended on it
To get through the hurt.
One day as I was walking
The boardwalk with my dog
I saw something shiny
Even in thick fog
A pin, exactly just like mine
Eyes overfilled with dew
I read aloud the same words
"ALWAYS WITH YOU."
I cleaned it up and pondered
Who to give it to
As it was your birthday
I just gave it to you
My friend who gave me mine
Died one night last year
And she would smile knowing
I gave it to you, dear.
Keep it always with you
And close to your heart
You will feel my presence
Though we are apart
And Polly, if you're watching
Somewhere from above
I have not forgotton you
Signed...Heather, with love.
She said "I want you to have this
And keep it close beside you
And when you miss someone
Or you're just feeling blue....
Think of all the moments
You shared with one another
And though you may be sad
It will make you better."
Time went by and many days
I caressed the pin she gave me
And sure enough, my heart lifted
And seemed to be the key
To readjust and reconnect
And somehow make life work
And I depended on it
To get through the hurt.
One day as I was walking
The boardwalk with my dog
I saw something shiny
Even in thick fog
A pin, exactly just like mine
Eyes overfilled with dew
I read aloud the same words
"ALWAYS WITH YOU."
I cleaned it up and pondered
Who to give it to
As it was your birthday
I just gave it to you
My friend who gave me mine
Died one night last year
And she would smile knowing
I gave it to you, dear.
Keep it always with you
And close to your heart
You will feel my presence
Though we are apart
And Polly, if you're watching
Somewhere from above
I have not forgotton you
Signed...Heather, with love.
THE STORE
"THE STORE"
We each took turns going to the store; this was done on a daily basis. Looking back, I guess it was done that way because we did not have electricity and once we did, there was no fridge for many years. Usually, we'd carry the groceries home in our arms or in the parcel carrier of our bikes. But in the winter time, we'd often put a box of groceries on our sleds.
The store sold everything from flour to penny candy to rubber boots. But my favorite thing in the whole store was fudgesticks. I would spend hours collecting pop bottles just to redeem them for .05 cents so I could have one. I would make it last until I reached our house and let our dog, Sandy, like the stick.
Years ago, when I first walked up to the store with my Dad, Mr. Albert Brown and his wife Benice, owned it. He was also the Organist and Choir Leader at our Church. After many years, they sold it to our neighbor,Mr. Bob Swim and it was his store until it closed around 1990.When I was little and sent to the store, many times no money exchanged hands. Instead, it would be "put on tick." Quite often, Dad would exchange dozens of our brown eggs for groceries on Saturday nights. We would sit together cleaning and weighing the eggs in our big warm kitchen. Then they'd be put in fillers and counted.
My parents would make a list of foods they needed as they had an idea how much they could spend. When Dad walked home on those Saturday nights with his box full of groceries, it would seem like Christmas to us. Sometimes he'd have a treat for me like mints or a stick of peppermint.
The only foods they purchased were things we couldn't grow such as flour, sugar, cocoa, shortening, salt, canned goods and some meats. Usually, we had our own milk, cream, butermilk, churned butter, pork (including Cottage Roll and pork chops), chicken, rabbits, geese, wild ducks, deer meat and all of our own vegetables. We seldom had fruit unless we picked blueberries, blackberries and raspberries. Every Fall, Dad would buy a barrell of apples from someone who came down from the Valley selling them.Mom made our own bread, rolls (Hot Cross Buns), biscuits and Johnny-cake. Out of all her many pies, cookies, cakes and desserts, my favourites were always her Cinnamon Rolls and Molasses or Oatmeal Cookies.
The "Store" was the best place to be in, besides Mom's kitchen, of course!!
We each took turns going to the store; this was done on a daily basis. Looking back, I guess it was done that way because we did not have electricity and once we did, there was no fridge for many years. Usually, we'd carry the groceries home in our arms or in the parcel carrier of our bikes. But in the winter time, we'd often put a box of groceries on our sleds.
The store sold everything from flour to penny candy to rubber boots. But my favorite thing in the whole store was fudgesticks. I would spend hours collecting pop bottles just to redeem them for .05 cents so I could have one. I would make it last until I reached our house and let our dog, Sandy, like the stick.
Years ago, when I first walked up to the store with my Dad, Mr. Albert Brown and his wife Benice, owned it. He was also the Organist and Choir Leader at our Church. After many years, they sold it to our neighbor,Mr. Bob Swim and it was his store until it closed around 1990.When I was little and sent to the store, many times no money exchanged hands. Instead, it would be "put on tick." Quite often, Dad would exchange dozens of our brown eggs for groceries on Saturday nights. We would sit together cleaning and weighing the eggs in our big warm kitchen. Then they'd be put in fillers and counted.
My parents would make a list of foods they needed as they had an idea how much they could spend. When Dad walked home on those Saturday nights with his box full of groceries, it would seem like Christmas to us. Sometimes he'd have a treat for me like mints or a stick of peppermint.
The only foods they purchased were things we couldn't grow such as flour, sugar, cocoa, shortening, salt, canned goods and some meats. Usually, we had our own milk, cream, butermilk, churned butter, pork (including Cottage Roll and pork chops), chicken, rabbits, geese, wild ducks, deer meat and all of our own vegetables. We seldom had fruit unless we picked blueberries, blackberries and raspberries. Every Fall, Dad would buy a barrell of apples from someone who came down from the Valley selling them.Mom made our own bread, rolls (Hot Cross Buns), biscuits and Johnny-cake. Out of all her many pies, cookies, cakes and desserts, my favourites were always her Cinnamon Rolls and Molasses or Oatmeal Cookies.
The "Store" was the best place to be in, besides Mom's kitchen, of course!!
1ST DAY OF SCHOOL
(written at aged 15)
I never thought that Labor Day, 1953 would EVER arrive! I was going to school, too, the day afterwards. I had a brand new bookbag, pencil and a pink rubber eraser. I was going to wear my Sunday School dress. I was SO excited that I could not sleep! I shared a feather bed upstairs with my older sister, Ardeth and my older brother, Junior. I must have kept them awake all night long, asking many questions about school.We all walked to "Hibbard's Brook" school together. My teachers name was Mrs. Hurd and I was scared to death of her. I had prayed that she'd be beautiful, young and kind. But she only had one good eye and very few teeth! She was very old, too---at least 50. I wet myself and could not return to school after dinner-time as all of my other clothes were still wet on the clothesline.I cried all afternoon; my dad was home working in the yard with our animals and I recall he stopped my sobs by letting me sit up on our horse's back while he led us around. But I was still very sad and couldn't wait for tomorrow.
I never thought that Labor Day, 1953 would EVER arrive! I was going to school, too, the day afterwards. I had a brand new bookbag, pencil and a pink rubber eraser. I was going to wear my Sunday School dress. I was SO excited that I could not sleep! I shared a feather bed upstairs with my older sister, Ardeth and my older brother, Junior. I must have kept them awake all night long, asking many questions about school.We all walked to "Hibbard's Brook" school together. My teachers name was Mrs. Hurd and I was scared to death of her. I had prayed that she'd be beautiful, young and kind. But she only had one good eye and very few teeth! She was very old, too---at least 50. I wet myself and could not return to school after dinner-time as all of my other clothes were still wet on the clothesline.I cried all afternoon; my dad was home working in the yard with our animals and I recall he stopped my sobs by letting me sit up on our horse's back while he led us around. But I was still very sad and couldn't wait for tomorrow.
TAFFY
"TAFFY"
He was just a dog but oh, was he ever special to the little blond haired girl who worshipped him. She had been told to wait until she was old enough to help take good care of an animal before having one. When she was just six years old and had started school, she came in one afternoon from the school bus to find a new, soft light-brown puppy in a basket in the kitchen.
She named her dog, Taffy. He went everywhere she went, except to Church and school. When her family moved farther out into the country, Taffy and she became inseparable and when she got a black kitten, Midnight, the three of them were like triplets.
The seasons passed quickly and turned into years; Taffy and Midnight now slept together in a huge old chair down in their basement but more often than not, she sneaked them both into her canopy bed. Suddenly, the little first grader was 9 years old in 1974 and had to choose which pet to take with her when she and her Mum moved back closer to town, after her parents divorced . It was decided that Taffy would remain in the country to live with the neighbors next door who wanted him. Midnight would fare better in an apartment than he would.
When they returned to visit Taffy, about four months after moving away, he greeted them before their 1969 Ford Falcon had even come to a complete stop. Kisses were generously planted on the little girl and her mother. The neighbor told of how Taffy still thought he lived in the same house and after supper, would go "home" to sleep outside the closed basement window.
It was harder to say goodbye this time; it was obvious that he was well fed and cared for but that he missed his old home. Still, the child and her mother both thought that he would eventually adapt to his new owners and be safer in the countryside than in the busy city.
The call came about 4 months later; Taffy had been shot! He had ran into the woods to chase something; someone had shot him and he crawled "home", bleeding all the way, to the closed and locked basement window where he died alone. He was already buried when they received the news.
Words cannot explain the guilt, remorse and raw pain that the little girl and her parents, endured. Whenever any of them saw a light brown dog with big brown eyes and a wagging tail, they remembered "Taffy".
He was just a dog……..but oh, was he ever special to Lisa and her Mum and Dad.
He was just a dog but oh, was he ever special to the little blond haired girl who worshipped him. She had been told to wait until she was old enough to help take good care of an animal before having one. When she was just six years old and had started school, she came in one afternoon from the school bus to find a new, soft light-brown puppy in a basket in the kitchen.
She named her dog, Taffy. He went everywhere she went, except to Church and school. When her family moved farther out into the country, Taffy and she became inseparable and when she got a black kitten, Midnight, the three of them were like triplets.
The seasons passed quickly and turned into years; Taffy and Midnight now slept together in a huge old chair down in their basement but more often than not, she sneaked them both into her canopy bed. Suddenly, the little first grader was 9 years old in 1974 and had to choose which pet to take with her when she and her Mum moved back closer to town, after her parents divorced . It was decided that Taffy would remain in the country to live with the neighbors next door who wanted him. Midnight would fare better in an apartment than he would.
When they returned to visit Taffy, about four months after moving away, he greeted them before their 1969 Ford Falcon had even come to a complete stop. Kisses were generously planted on the little girl and her mother. The neighbor told of how Taffy still thought he lived in the same house and after supper, would go "home" to sleep outside the closed basement window.
It was harder to say goodbye this time; it was obvious that he was well fed and cared for but that he missed his old home. Still, the child and her mother both thought that he would eventually adapt to his new owners and be safer in the countryside than in the busy city.
The call came about 4 months later; Taffy had been shot! He had ran into the woods to chase something; someone had shot him and he crawled "home", bleeding all the way, to the closed and locked basement window where he died alone. He was already buried when they received the news.
Words cannot explain the guilt, remorse and raw pain that the little girl and her parents, endured. Whenever any of them saw a light brown dog with big brown eyes and a wagging tail, they remembered "Taffy".
He was just a dog……..but oh, was he ever special to Lisa and her Mum and Dad.
SANDY
"SANDY"
My family got Sandy when I was 3 or 4 years old and he was just a pup so we sort of grew up together. He came from the litter of puppies that Art Hatfield’s dog had. My brother Bob picked him out and carried him home in his arms. We named him "Sandy" because he was yellowish in color. He had big brown eyes that could break your heart if he was sad or had been scolded. When Bob joined the Navy, he became Junior’s and my dog.
I would arrive home from school about 3:30 pm and Sandy would be waiting somewhere in our long, unpaved driveway. He had been trained to go just so far so that he would not go in the road. The only two rooms in our house that Mum allowed him in were the porch and the kitchen. Sandy slept out in the barn with the horse and cow, year round.
Sometimes when I’d come home from school, I’d have saved him a scrap of food in my lunch pail and he came to expect it. It became a daily ritual. The bus would stop; I’d jump off and start to walk down the driveway. Sandy would run and jump up to lick my face, like a welcome home kiss. I often wondered what he did all day long and wished so much that he could talk. Mum said he’d lay in the sun and sleep or follow her to the henhouse or clothesline or chase the cat, etc. He was like a watchdog and everyone loved him.
One day Sandy had been missing for a day or so and I was frantic. After dark I went looking for him in the pasture with Daddy’s lantern. He was there with those big sad eyes, tail between his legs. He had been "playing" or fighting with a porcupine and it was obvious who’d won. Sandy was covered with porcupine quills! Dad had to put him to sleep with some ether and remove the quills one by one with a pair of pliers.
We used to have a tent pitched in our backyard and Sandy and I would lay inside it together to read my comic books, Lulu and Tubby, Archie and Veronica and Casper the Friendly Ghost. Sometimes, when it was raining, we’d lie quietly and listen to the raindrops, my arm wrapped around his warm soft fur. He was comforting to me and I hope I was to him.
When I was 16 and in grade 10, a knock came to our front door, which we seldom used, so we knew it was a stranger. It was an 18 year old boy who attended our High School. I heard him ask my father if he knew who owned a medium sized yellow dog because he’d just hit it with his fathers car. We learned later that Sandy had run out into the road to retrieve a small neighbor boy’s baseball.
Dad rushed up to the highway and we saw him carrying a bleeding, moaning dog in his arms; it was our Sandy. He laid him on the snow out back of our house and asked Mum to call my oldest brother, Rodney, who lived next door. Soon Rodney arrived with his rifle and when it fired, I screamed. Sandy suddenly was silent; we all were. We wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in the barn until the next morning when Dad buried him in our pasture.
It was the first time I saw my Daddy cry. The cross he made for us to place there just said "SANDY". It would be another two years before they got another dog and by then I had moved to Dartmouth, N.S. Sandy was irreplaceable to me and even now, decades later, still is.
My family got Sandy when I was 3 or 4 years old and he was just a pup so we sort of grew up together. He came from the litter of puppies that Art Hatfield’s dog had. My brother Bob picked him out and carried him home in his arms. We named him "Sandy" because he was yellowish in color. He had big brown eyes that could break your heart if he was sad or had been scolded. When Bob joined the Navy, he became Junior’s and my dog.
I would arrive home from school about 3:30 pm and Sandy would be waiting somewhere in our long, unpaved driveway. He had been trained to go just so far so that he would not go in the road. The only two rooms in our house that Mum allowed him in were the porch and the kitchen. Sandy slept out in the barn with the horse and cow, year round.
Sometimes when I’d come home from school, I’d have saved him a scrap of food in my lunch pail and he came to expect it. It became a daily ritual. The bus would stop; I’d jump off and start to walk down the driveway. Sandy would run and jump up to lick my face, like a welcome home kiss. I often wondered what he did all day long and wished so much that he could talk. Mum said he’d lay in the sun and sleep or follow her to the henhouse or clothesline or chase the cat, etc. He was like a watchdog and everyone loved him.
One day Sandy had been missing for a day or so and I was frantic. After dark I went looking for him in the pasture with Daddy’s lantern. He was there with those big sad eyes, tail between his legs. He had been "playing" or fighting with a porcupine and it was obvious who’d won. Sandy was covered with porcupine quills! Dad had to put him to sleep with some ether and remove the quills one by one with a pair of pliers.
We used to have a tent pitched in our backyard and Sandy and I would lay inside it together to read my comic books, Lulu and Tubby, Archie and Veronica and Casper the Friendly Ghost. Sometimes, when it was raining, we’d lie quietly and listen to the raindrops, my arm wrapped around his warm soft fur. He was comforting to me and I hope I was to him.
When I was 16 and in grade 10, a knock came to our front door, which we seldom used, so we knew it was a stranger. It was an 18 year old boy who attended our High School. I heard him ask my father if he knew who owned a medium sized yellow dog because he’d just hit it with his fathers car. We learned later that Sandy had run out into the road to retrieve a small neighbor boy’s baseball.
Dad rushed up to the highway and we saw him carrying a bleeding, moaning dog in his arms; it was our Sandy. He laid him on the snow out back of our house and asked Mum to call my oldest brother, Rodney, who lived next door. Soon Rodney arrived with his rifle and when it fired, I screamed. Sandy suddenly was silent; we all were. We wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in the barn until the next morning when Dad buried him in our pasture.
It was the first time I saw my Daddy cry. The cross he made for us to place there just said "SANDY". It would be another two years before they got another dog and by then I had moved to Dartmouth, N.S. Sandy was irreplaceable to me and even now, decades later, still is.
DEAR GRAMPIE:
Dear Grampie:
Well, it's been a long, long time since last I saw your face and you mine. It was almost forty years ago and alot has happened since that very sad day in Barrington.
You didn't have to wait long for your "Gertie" did you, Grampie? She missed you so much after approximately seven decades of being your beloved wife that she joined you before you had even been gone a year.
You'd both be surprised at all the many changes in our world today in the year 2007. I smile when I watch an old rerun of one of your favourite television shows "All in the Family." Now, one can easily get hundreds and hundreds of channels yet there's so little on there to interest me. I miss the "Andy Williams Show", the "Dinah Shore Show" and the "Ed Sullivan Show".........ones you may have enjoyed with Grammie.
The other day I smelled tobacco pipe and sat in awe while a man smoked his pipe; I thought of you. Two horses are now across the street from my house, grazing and happy together. I wish you were here to walk over with me to rub their sweet faces.
Tell Grammie how much I miss her lemon tarts, molasses cookies and rhubarb pie. Others make them now but with-out her touch of love and taste of faith and drop of affection, they just aren't as good.
You know, Bob Swim died; he owned the store that Albert Brown once had. There is no store anymore but Oak Park has one. Interestingly enough, it's owned and managed by my brother (Junior)'s wife. It would stun you to see how much Oak Park has grown, with a new High School, a car dealership, etc. Many lovely homes have gone up there recently too.
Most of us now write letters electronically instead of mailing them; a computer is a wealth of knowledge at one's fingertips. One can sit at home and read any newspaper in any language from all over the world, free. Families seldom sit down at mealtimes all together anymore; kids eat fast-foods from take-out restaurants and many mothers just cook big dinners on Sundays. I don't think as many people attend church as they used to.
Sports are a big deal these days and professional players are all millionaires or more. Kids play organized games and are chauffered by their parents. Nearly all complete High School and many go on to University. I don't know any "blacksmiths"; many professions now are automated and some people work from home. But an Undertaker's job hasn't changed that much!
We still only have one or two taxi's and schoolbuses around but many children have parents drive them to school; or drive themselves after age 16. Kids are dating younger and younger and many choose to have their children before marriage or never bother getting married at all. Sex is freely discussed and advertised though sexually transmitted disease's are prevalent.
Teddy Atwood is in charge of the Seventh Day Adventist Church now and he is a very honest, steady man of God. He visits one of your favourite grandchildren (Jean) in Yarmouth Hospital, as often as he can. Our family has lost a few members prematurely, namely Valerie at aged 46, Rodney at 72, Clifford Kendrick was just 50, I think and recently, Sherod's wife, Helen, 61. But God has been good to most of us and He continues to be my strength and safety net.
It broke my heart to lose you and then Grammie; then Mom and Daddy and my dear brother. Life has been so hard at times and so sad and lonely at others. None of your children are living. But then the sun shines and I breathe in the fresh, salt air and turn up some wonderful music and watch a falling star at night........and feel young and vibrant all over again.
Well, Grampie, I just was thinking about you today as I do often and wanted to say hello. Thank you for being my loving grandfather for the first twenty years of my life; I wish it could have been longer.
Your grand-daughter,
Heather
Well, it's been a long, long time since last I saw your face and you mine. It was almost forty years ago and alot has happened since that very sad day in Barrington.
You didn't have to wait long for your "Gertie" did you, Grampie? She missed you so much after approximately seven decades of being your beloved wife that she joined you before you had even been gone a year.
You'd both be surprised at all the many changes in our world today in the year 2007. I smile when I watch an old rerun of one of your favourite television shows "All in the Family." Now, one can easily get hundreds and hundreds of channels yet there's so little on there to interest me. I miss the "Andy Williams Show", the "Dinah Shore Show" and the "Ed Sullivan Show".........ones you may have enjoyed with Grammie.
The other day I smelled tobacco pipe and sat in awe while a man smoked his pipe; I thought of you. Two horses are now across the street from my house, grazing and happy together. I wish you were here to walk over with me to rub their sweet faces.
Tell Grammie how much I miss her lemon tarts, molasses cookies and rhubarb pie. Others make them now but with-out her touch of love and taste of faith and drop of affection, they just aren't as good.
You know, Bob Swim died; he owned the store that Albert Brown once had. There is no store anymore but Oak Park has one. Interestingly enough, it's owned and managed by my brother (Junior)'s wife. It would stun you to see how much Oak Park has grown, with a new High School, a car dealership, etc. Many lovely homes have gone up there recently too.
Most of us now write letters electronically instead of mailing them; a computer is a wealth of knowledge at one's fingertips. One can sit at home and read any newspaper in any language from all over the world, free. Families seldom sit down at mealtimes all together anymore; kids eat fast-foods from take-out restaurants and many mothers just cook big dinners on Sundays. I don't think as many people attend church as they used to.
Sports are a big deal these days and professional players are all millionaires or more. Kids play organized games and are chauffered by their parents. Nearly all complete High School and many go on to University. I don't know any "blacksmiths"; many professions now are automated and some people work from home. But an Undertaker's job hasn't changed that much!
We still only have one or two taxi's and schoolbuses around but many children have parents drive them to school; or drive themselves after age 16. Kids are dating younger and younger and many choose to have their children before marriage or never bother getting married at all. Sex is freely discussed and advertised though sexually transmitted disease's are prevalent.
Teddy Atwood is in charge of the Seventh Day Adventist Church now and he is a very honest, steady man of God. He visits one of your favourite grandchildren (Jean) in Yarmouth Hospital, as often as he can. Our family has lost a few members prematurely, namely Valerie at aged 46, Rodney at 72, Clifford Kendrick was just 50, I think and recently, Sherod's wife, Helen, 61. But God has been good to most of us and He continues to be my strength and safety net.
It broke my heart to lose you and then Grammie; then Mom and Daddy and my dear brother. Life has been so hard at times and so sad and lonely at others. None of your children are living. But then the sun shines and I breathe in the fresh, salt air and turn up some wonderful music and watch a falling star at night........and feel young and vibrant all over again.
Well, Grampie, I just was thinking about you today as I do often and wanted to say hello. Thank you for being my loving grandfather for the first twenty years of my life; I wish it could have been longer.
Your grand-daughter,
Heather
A VICTIM TOO?
A VICTIM TOO ?
The darkened room awaits him
As another day escapes
Reality shows it's ugly face
And all things that he hates:
Rich kids vain and pretty
Girls who walk past him
Snickering and pointing
Tell me, who's the victim?
The doctor's thought him crazy
As pills they prescribed
And class resumed as usual
But inside he cried:
No-one was there to listen
And his screams went unheard
Until the final day he lived
Their "whipping boy;" a "nerd".
All alone he carried out
The plans he'd set in place
The mirror told the story
He saw Satan in his face;
So much to do, so little time
Who to kill and when?
Society would now accept
His being and his sin.
What were his final thoughts?
And who could he have called?
He'd tried God and Doctors
They were both appalled;
A hug may have done it
A simple "How are you?"
But he alone lived in his skin
And he didn't have a clue.
His name wasn't well known
And his face not recognized
He never had a girlfriend
She'd just criticize;
He often sat all alone
In his room so dark
And gave himself a new name
Call me "question mark."
While others found joy and love
He watched them from aways
And knew not how to find the same
In all his nights and days;
He did not even have someone
That he could call a friend
So he just wrote to NBC
And signed it with "The end."
The darkened room awaits him
As another day escapes
Reality shows it's ugly face
And all things that he hates:
Rich kids vain and pretty
Girls who walk past him
Snickering and pointing
Tell me, who's the victim?
The doctor's thought him crazy
As pills they prescribed
And class resumed as usual
But inside he cried:
No-one was there to listen
And his screams went unheard
Until the final day he lived
Their "whipping boy;" a "nerd".
All alone he carried out
The plans he'd set in place
The mirror told the story
He saw Satan in his face;
So much to do, so little time
Who to kill and when?
Society would now accept
His being and his sin.
What were his final thoughts?
And who could he have called?
He'd tried God and Doctors
They were both appalled;
A hug may have done it
A simple "How are you?"
But he alone lived in his skin
And he didn't have a clue.
His name wasn't well known
And his face not recognized
He never had a girlfriend
She'd just criticize;
He often sat all alone
In his room so dark
And gave himself a new name
Call me "question mark."
While others found joy and love
He watched them from aways
And knew not how to find the same
In all his nights and days;
He did not even have someone
That he could call a friend
So he just wrote to NBC
And signed it with "The end."
Song (CAPE ISLAND BLUES)
"CAPE ISLAND BLUES"
I seldom hear the foghorn
Like in days of old
One never hears a church bell
Welcoming its fold;
Can't even find a rainbow
In its brilliant hues
'Cuz lately all I've got
Is these Cape Island blues.
(CHORUS)
Got these fog-filled-rainy-days-frigid-nights, no-stars-out, no-moon-beams, boring and lonesome Cape Island blues.
Can't even find a single friend
To keep me company
Will have to wait for Santa
To sit upon his knee;
Some say I'm better off
But they don't have a clue
What it's like on Friday nights
With these Cape Island blues.
(CHORUS)
Got these fog-filled-rainy-days-frigid-nights,-no-stars-out,-no moonbeams,-boring and lonesome Cape Island blues.
A movie theatre in the town
Or a Casino would be nice
Somewhere to socialize
While throwing out the dice;
A little dinner theater
Or just a restaurant
Shouldn't be too much to ask
Or too much for one to want.
(CHORUS)
Got these fog-filled-rainy-days-frigid-nights,-no-stars-out,-no-moonbeams,-boring & lonesome Cape Island blues.
Well, there's always church I guess
And I could learn how to bowl
But these old knees of mine
Have taken their last toll;
No fun "parking" by myself
Too darn cold to take a walk
How I wish this dog of mine
Could just learn how to talk.
(CHORUS)
Got these fog-filled-rainy-days-frigid-nights, no-stars-out, no-moonbeams, boring & lonesome Cape Island blues.
Electric blanket's set on high
A book waits by the bed
And in my sexy negligee
(In case I wake up dead);
The night-time is my haven
What have I got to lose?
Guess I'll have to settle
For these Cape Island blues.
(CHORUS)
Got these fog-filled-rainy-days-frigid-nights, no-stars-out, no-moonbeams, boring & lonesome Cape Island blues.
Damn these Cape Island blues!!
I seldom hear the foghorn
Like in days of old
One never hears a church bell
Welcoming its fold;
Can't even find a rainbow
In its brilliant hues
'Cuz lately all I've got
Is these Cape Island blues.
(CHORUS)
Got these fog-filled-rainy-days-frigid-nights, no-stars-out, no-moon-beams, boring and lonesome Cape Island blues.
Can't even find a single friend
To keep me company
Will have to wait for Santa
To sit upon his knee;
Some say I'm better off
But they don't have a clue
What it's like on Friday nights
With these Cape Island blues.
(CHORUS)
Got these fog-filled-rainy-days-frigid-nights,-no-stars-out,-no moonbeams,-boring and lonesome Cape Island blues.
A movie theatre in the town
Or a Casino would be nice
Somewhere to socialize
While throwing out the dice;
A little dinner theater
Or just a restaurant
Shouldn't be too much to ask
Or too much for one to want.
(CHORUS)
Got these fog-filled-rainy-days-frigid-nights,-no-stars-out,-no-moonbeams,-boring & lonesome Cape Island blues.
Well, there's always church I guess
And I could learn how to bowl
But these old knees of mine
Have taken their last toll;
No fun "parking" by myself
Too darn cold to take a walk
How I wish this dog of mine
Could just learn how to talk.
(CHORUS)
Got these fog-filled-rainy-days-frigid-nights, no-stars-out, no-moonbeams, boring & lonesome Cape Island blues.
Electric blanket's set on high
A book waits by the bed
And in my sexy negligee
(In case I wake up dead);
The night-time is my haven
What have I got to lose?
Guess I'll have to settle
For these Cape Island blues.
(CHORUS)
Got these fog-filled-rainy-days-frigid-nights, no-stars-out, no-moonbeams, boring & lonesome Cape Island blues.
Damn these Cape Island blues!!
Not even a place to wear my new shoes!
GOOD GIRL!!
"GOOD GIRL"
Looking back, it seems now that the life in her eyes faded the same day her Master's did.
As my brother, Rodney, slept from the drug, morphine, in his favourite chair, he faced the shore road where he spent many years going to and from the sea. It was down there he'd take her to run and play in the cool waters of the Atlantic Ocean. How she loved chasing the "stick" He'd throw it far and wide, relentlessly, while her black-haired, heavy body swam effortlessly to retrieve it. They'd play "catch & fetch" until both of them were too tired to do so anymore.
Tarley seemed to know his Master's limits and she'd sit quietly while he rested and reflected. She would wander away to shake herself dry and return to be petted and patted. "Good girl!" Rod would say and Tarley stood proud, walking slowly back to the house beside him, waiting now for the routine of getting her "treat". Then she'd doze off in the sunshine and keep an eye on things for them all.
Years had been spent going "ducking", boating, to Rod's two camps and to many week-ends at Bluegrass shows. Tarley and Rodney and Minnie, going down the highway in their camper, headed towards wherever life & good times with friends took them. On the road again.........
How she loved to lay in the shade, napping and waiting for her supper. She listened to their jokes, their songs, their laughter and she belonged. This was her family; she was loved.
But all good things must come to an end. I saw the hurt in her eyes in 2003 when she sat outside his window on their patio. Rod would look out at her and she'd look in at him. It broke my heart to watch and I couldn't, very often. I don't know which one of them looked the most lost.
After the cancer won the fight, and life was over for our dear brother, Tarley moped and grieved like our whole family did. Her life was never to be the same. Her lack of exercise and a thyroid condition worsened as time went by and it pained me to watch her try to climb the few steps to their home. Winter was hard for Tarley with the bitter cold and ice and so she was permitted inside the house to a porch where it was dry & warm.
Her eyes told the whole story: "I miss him." Two large, dark brown eyes sweetly welcomed me each time I arrived and waited patiently for a hug and the magic words "Good girl."
Today, March 20th, 2007 Tarley was put to sleep and her legs won't ache tonight. But my heart does as I feel not only the loss of a wonderful dog but a big piece of Rodney left with her when she closed those beautiful, brown eyes for the last time. What were her thoughts? I hope she knows how very treasured and honored we were to have known her.
I pray that somehow, someway, somewhere they are together again, playing "catch & fetch". "Good girl!!"
Looking back, it seems now that the life in her eyes faded the same day her Master's did.
As my brother, Rodney, slept from the drug, morphine, in his favourite chair, he faced the shore road where he spent many years going to and from the sea. It was down there he'd take her to run and play in the cool waters of the Atlantic Ocean. How she loved chasing the "stick" He'd throw it far and wide, relentlessly, while her black-haired, heavy body swam effortlessly to retrieve it. They'd play "catch & fetch" until both of them were too tired to do so anymore.
Tarley seemed to know his Master's limits and she'd sit quietly while he rested and reflected. She would wander away to shake herself dry and return to be petted and patted. "Good girl!" Rod would say and Tarley stood proud, walking slowly back to the house beside him, waiting now for the routine of getting her "treat". Then she'd doze off in the sunshine and keep an eye on things for them all.
Years had been spent going "ducking", boating, to Rod's two camps and to many week-ends at Bluegrass shows. Tarley and Rodney and Minnie, going down the highway in their camper, headed towards wherever life & good times with friends took them. On the road again.........
How she loved to lay in the shade, napping and waiting for her supper. She listened to their jokes, their songs, their laughter and she belonged. This was her family; she was loved.
But all good things must come to an end. I saw the hurt in her eyes in 2003 when she sat outside his window on their patio. Rod would look out at her and she'd look in at him. It broke my heart to watch and I couldn't, very often. I don't know which one of them looked the most lost.
After the cancer won the fight, and life was over for our dear brother, Tarley moped and grieved like our whole family did. Her life was never to be the same. Her lack of exercise and a thyroid condition worsened as time went by and it pained me to watch her try to climb the few steps to their home. Winter was hard for Tarley with the bitter cold and ice and so she was permitted inside the house to a porch where it was dry & warm.
Her eyes told the whole story: "I miss him." Two large, dark brown eyes sweetly welcomed me each time I arrived and waited patiently for a hug and the magic words "Good girl."
Today, March 20th, 2007 Tarley was put to sleep and her legs won't ache tonight. But my heart does as I feel not only the loss of a wonderful dog but a big piece of Rodney left with her when she closed those beautiful, brown eyes for the last time. What were her thoughts? I hope she knows how very treasured and honored we were to have known her.
I pray that somehow, someway, somewhere they are together again, playing "catch & fetch". "Good girl!!"
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