Fall Checkup

Around this time of the year we prepare for winter and make sure that all the necessary work is completed before going to Florida. We trim our trees, feed the rhubarb, prepare our vegetable gardens and put away all the outside lighting and a dozen other tasks.Inside we do the same.

As and individual I feel like some kind of a medical creature when all the prep events are counted up. The dentist, yearly medical with the dozen blood tests, your eye specialist and the pharmacist to buy all those goodies that take care of your arthritis and other human failings.

Every year I do this and realize the consequences of not having that wonderful, golden medical plan. My Dr. believes that prevention is better than treatment so he makes every effort to keep me medically sound. In the same way I maintain my property our medical system maintains my body. I never gave this much thought as I have been fortunate to be able to look after my children and myself without a thought of the cost.

People who do not benefit from such a program must feel frustrated that they are unable to provide for their families and themselves without questioning the economic impact on their lives. This came to my attention when I recently observed my Dr. as adding a certain phrase ofter answering my questions. He usually finishes his little speech with the words, "age relevant" or "age appropriate". What he is saying that for my age I am okay. This kind of shocked me as I never think of myself as old.

Don't ask about your memory loss or other worrisome items because he smiles and says that I can expect that at my age. There you have it - I am ageing and the Dr. tells me I will need and depend more and more on the safety net of the medical system. It has not failed me so far so I guess I will be OK in the future FOR MY AGE.

United Nations

I visited the United Nations building early in the 1950's. The marvelous guide took our group through the whole structure with a commentary that left you with a clear understanding of the organization. One part of the building was left unfinished to symbolically reflect the unfinished business of the UN.

The charter and constitution of the UN is built on the belief that all nations are able to sit in one room and discuss the matters concerning the world. One point was that every nation should be heard no matter how much their behaviour was out of sync with the charter.

Last week the nations of the world were meeting in New York before the G 20 meetings in Pittsburgh. Nearly all the leaders of their respective nations were there. Our Prime Minister was here in Oakville drinking coffee at Tim Hortons. That was not enough but our Canadian delegation walked out when the leader of Iran was about to speak.

This gesture was a protest but how can we have a meaningful dialogue with countries we have disagreements with if we do not have the courtesy to hear their side? What did this country do to receive this treatment? They are developing a nuclear device that will give them the same ability as many of the other countries of the world. We in the west see this as a bad thing so we oppose their developing the potential to build a bomb. If we do not keep a dialogue with the people of Iran on a world stage like the UN the other option will be to sanction them and when this does not work, we will bomb them.

Other countries have been oppressive to their neighbours for years, and because they are our allies we turn a blind eye. A case in point is Israel who, with the flick of a switch, regularly invade Palestine's territory and destroy their infrastructure. Nothing is done because they (Israel) are supposed to be our friends.

I only make this point because if the UN is to be the world force it is supposed to be, it must be treated in a manner according to the charter. Canada once held its head high on the world stage but now we are a insignificant member because we lost our independent thinking. We follow whatever the USA says, and we see the trouble we are in with the involvement of the wars and the battle for economic stability. You cannot serve two masters, and we find ourselves unable to make a strong case for our National Independence on the world stage.

The solution is rather simple, gain the world's recognition by being a positive force and attack the world issues of hunger, disease ,global warming and climate change, (we backed away from Kyoto ) and as a force for peace which gave us so much standing in the world. We could even begin at home and bring back our Kelowna charter and treat our aboriginal people in a manner consistent with the Canadian Charter of Human Rights.

Out My Backdoor

During the years I lived in the Arctic many people questioned the wisdom of staying in a god forsaken place that was eternally cold and forbidden. I shrugged off these comments as I had a different take on that land. At my little cabin beside Grenier Lake, I had the wonderful views on all sides. The one in the picture was looking east by north east. In the background was this esker named Pelly Mountain.

Pelly Mountain was not a mountain by any stretch of the imagination as it was less than 300 meters in height, but was the highest point of land in the whole area. It was surrounded by numerous lakes and rivers and lush tundra where muskoxen and caribou lived during the summer. Outside my cabin door there was a catalogue of Arctic animals and birds. Plants and flowers that attracted photographers from Europe and around the world made this place home to me.

My best friends in the animal kingdom besides my dog Buck were the muskoxen. This esker had a more sinister role in world politics as well. During the cold war the USA installed a listening post here to monitor the number and intensity of the Russian Nuclear Program detonations.

Cables were spread on the tundra for nearly thirty miles in every direction ,spreading out from Mount Pelly. These cables and the electronic listening devices could detect and record every movement in the earth's crust in the northern hemisphere. Atomic explosions were of vital interest to the USA military and were monitored here on Victoria Island and in the little Hamlet of Ikaluktutiak. The local Inuit had no knowledge of the use of the system but left them alone and not one incident of vandalism was recorded.

So when people speak of places like the Arctic without knowledge, let them come to have a look out my back door and I am sure they will leave with a different view.

Happy in My Skin

When I retired 20 years ago I said that I never had a bad day in education but some days, bad things happened. In reality that is pretty much the way my life has been. Most people can be characterized by others as a happy, grumpy, negative, upbeat or just plain miserable. One word never accurately describes a person but one word will give a nickname that often sticks.

When we analyze ourselves we probably are way off the perception others have of us. An often quoted phrase, "If only we could see ourselves as others do" applies to my comments. We mostly see ourselves the way we wish others see us. Over the years I have had to talk to teachers about their demeanor. Students would complain about their teachers saying such things as they are mean, cross, unfriendly and a hundred other words to describe their perception of their teacher.

When confronted with this message the teachers are amazed that any student could feel that way because that is not how I really am. One simple answer to this is nonverbal communication. Teachers must constantly be aware of the picture they are painting to their students.

Likewise we as people have to be aware of the same thing in our interaction with each other. You know that morning smile or grouchy welcome means much to the ones we love. It is said that your eyes are the window to the soul so speak with your eyes and be aware of the feelings you give off every time you see, speak or interact with others.

I see myself as a happy, joyful person who is excited about nearly everything. My children sometimes told me otherwise. I have been more aware of this aspect in my communications with my fellow man over the past years and it does work. One day my daughter told me that as I get older I am more likable. That is a start.

In any case I feel happy and comfortable in my skin.

Saturday

Being retired should make every day pretty much the same as the next. This is not the case as Saturday is always special because we have a mind set that tells you that it is the end of the work week so get all that work done that you couldn't get done because you were at work. People always look forward to Saturday because they do the things around the house and yard that must be done. You are prepared to work until your muscles ache but it is not work because it is Saturday.

Francis Bacon wrote a essay on what constitutes work. He told of people in Old England who lived in cities and toiled at jobs that bored them but on the weekend they went to the country and did strenuous tasks for fun so it was not considered work but pleasure.

Today men and women who work in those crowded work stations cannot wait until 12 o'clock to get to their fitness center to work out. That is not work but pleasure although by any standard it is work to the onlooker.It is a happy marriage when your work is your pleasure. Many people find a career that involves efforts that would be considered pleasure to many so their work is their pleasure. These people live a less stressful life and it would be the ultimate goal for all of us who work for a living to make their work pleasurable.

I personally know people who worked all their life in a job that they hated and riled against at every opportunity. This negative energy made a poor job situation even worse. This stress takes its toll and the person suffers along with those who have to live with this unhappy person.

If every person who has this situation would put forth energy wasted in negative stress, to improve their outlook things would be better. Attitude is so important to cope with the stress of workplace challenges.

One man goes to work happy he has a job, and makes the best of it. Another man goes to work with a face of anger and hatred towards his work - and guess who lives the better life. There are so many jobs today that are boring and meaningless to the worker that people have to find ways of coping and making it better.

Weather

We are planning on a two day flying trip to the Ottawa Valley to see our daughter and play a game of golf with a few old friends . Theresa will visit with a friend for the day while we play golf and catch up on the family news.

It seems that nearly every time we plan a visit to the Valley we have weather trouble. We were hoping for some of the perfect weather we have been experiencing this September when we broke a record with 24 rain free days.Today is Friday and the decision to go will have to be made tomorrow. The drive to Ottawa is about 5 hours as it is 500 kms but the scenery is pleasant if you take the back roads.

These short visits are important to keep that bond of friendship strong and to challenge the golf experts from the Valley.If my desires are met it will be finem and if not, there is always the early spring.

New Member of Tree Family

Yesterday Theresa and I saw an add for a fruit tree sale in the local weekly paper called The Beaver.We have been searching for a suitable tree to replace our fallen Peach tree but came up empty. Every tree we looked at was unsuitable. Our hopes for a new tree faded as time was running out for the planting.

A quick phone call and a positive answer renewed our hope. There were four left and were at a nursery in Waterdown, twenty kms away. We jumped in the car at 5.25 pm and raced across highway 5 and arrived at 5.45 pm. Closing time was 7 pm so we had time. A kind ,knowledgeable lady immediately attended to our needs. She said that the fruit trees were in the back so we started outback. She was a big lady but walked swiftly for a time before we were faced with a thousand trees. She showed us the only peach tree left. It was poor in every respect.

Theresa looked at some other trees while the lady said we should grow a nectarine. They are like a peach tree without the fur. She spoke of the value and good points and sold us. Trees were put on stage and each one had a flaw until Theresa saw one that looked perfect. It was 8 ft tall and well shaped. The leaves were still a deep green and the lady said it had been winter sprayed and was ready to have a new home.

$59.95 was the price but at 50% off it was a deal even with the tax. We loaded it in the van and all the way home we visualized the next year with big luscious fruit from this the newest member of our orchard. Next morning I planted the tree and carefully followed the planting instructions.In the ground it looked smaller but was a perfect fit for the allotted space outside Doris's bedroom window and close to the spot where our peach tree was planted. Doris gave us many of our trees for anniversary gifts and it was only fitting that this one be where she could keep an eye on it.

We know that Doris will give us a daily report on its progress and help care for our nectarine tree. A void has been filled in our back yard and we are content.

Loran Tower Ikaluktutiak Nunavut

The Loran Tower was constructed on the east side of Cambridge Bay on a rocky rise. It was built to guide aircraft flying from points in Canada and the USA to Europe on the Arctic pathway. This tower is over 800 feet high and is a free standing structure. The tower was built by the USA and Canadian military and civilian interests.Hundreds of aircraft flew this route weekly.

Nearly every plane travelling that route used this beacon as a guide as magnetic compasses were next to useless in that part of the world. The true north was miles north of the magnetic north pole which has a habit of moving constantly. Presently it is near the south area of Ellesmere Island.

The tower was a main guide for the SAC B52's which flew continuously during the years of the cold war. The tower was strobe lighted and on a clear night could be seen for fifty miles. Once I was partially lost returning from the mainland ,travelling across the NWP (north west passage}. Fog and wind obstructed my ability to get my bearings. I had no compass that day and began to become concerned.

I stopped my snow machine and began a search of the horizon with my spy glass. It was totally dark and after a short search I spotted the strobe lights of the Tower. I arrived home safely 5 hours later. That experience was repeated thousands of times since by the locals.

The tower was taken out of service years later in the 1980's and the local people petitioned the government of Canada to leave the tower and keep it lighted. After much discussion the tower remains but with lighting at a lower level. This provided a beacon for the Inuit hunters and visitors but at a reduced service. A friend of mine did the maintenance on the tower and changed the lights. He free climbed that tower without safety harness and was fearless. We were all afraid and concerned just watching him.

It is amazing how a tower can be the focal point of a community but it was and still is. Many communities have other beacons like lighthouses and church steeples but none are more outstanding the the Loran Tower of Cambridge Bay.

Democracy in Action

Last evening I attended our Oakville nomination meeting for federal MP. The largest group I can recall attended at six and listened to the five candidates once more give their plea why they should be nominated. The crowd was multicultural with many visible minorities present. A genuine buzz was present when the gavel was dropped and the speeches began. Three ladies and two men spoke in random order and all had their team of supporters and small demonstrations were permitted.

What struck me so hard was the attentiveness of the audience. Older school students were there in large numbers, grandparents, mothers with young children and volunteers with their official tags around their necks made the scene one of which we can all be proud because this is the first step in the process of electing our future leaders.

Every party begins with the same basic process whereby the citizens of a riding have the privilege of entering the wonderful political scene and have a direct impact on who represents you. This time I rated the speakers from one to four. If by chance your candidate was elected on the first ballet then they would win. However this rarely happens so the bottom person drops out and then your second choice comes into play and this continues until one candidate has 50+ 1 percent of the votes.

The interaction among the supporters and the candidates is fascinating to watch. Promises are made, begging for a chance, smiling sweetly to folks you do not really like and doing everything legal to get your person elected. I remember in the very old days that more open offers were made when women would be offered nylons or chocolates for their support. Every bag man carried boxes of mickeys of rum or rye in the trunk of his car to insure the collecting of support for their candidate.

Thanks to new regulations that kind of politics went out the window and a more sophisticated system prevails. I must confess I never really grasped the long, drawn out American system but I try and someday I will. I love politics and the processes that get us to where we have a body of people to do the right thing for us is very exciting. I was in politics for over a quarter of a century and it always amuses me when I hear my friends saying things like,all politicians are crooks or I never met an honest politician. It certainly gives me a reality check.

From my experience the people who start out along the political continuum are good people. Sometimes bad things happen to them along the way which causes trouble. If politicians were left to their own devices all would be well but we have so much control from the party hacks, the vested interest groups, the right wing Christians and sometimes their weakness for power and personal greed makes life difficult for humans.

At the end of the night my candidate was second and the person who won was my last choice. All the candidates came together and swore solidarity but I know from experience the losers were preparing for the next round. It was an exciting night as the winner was declared after midnight. I couldn't wait to tell Theresa about my evening as I know she will be thrilled to hear the details.

Afghanistan

It is rarely that I write on a same subject two days in a row. I was amazed that the overall General in charge of the coalition forces in Afghanistan ( General McChrystal) gave a interview to the world press voicing his doubts about success in that war with the present strategy. After a visit to a small village under the protection of Canadian troops he saw a success where peace keeping and building with the local population was having a positive impact.

He said the war could not be won in the conventional manner as civilian casualties drove many young people to the Taliban. It was noteworthy that the little village of Deh-e-Bagh is in one of the most dangerous areas in the war zone. There the locals and the armed forces work on living conditions and the troops keep them safe from the insurgents. Maybe there is hope with a new emphasis of keeping the peace and winning the hearts and minds of the local population. Good also is the fact that the man on the ground in Afghanistan is telling it like it is. Bravo.

In regard to the criticism about the government's Action Plan and the partisan advertising ,there was a change today whereby 34 of the PM's pictures was reduced to 7. People do have a voice and sometimes government does listen. Good on them as well.

Government Priorities

Our government has a plan to spend nearly 25 millions of tax dollars to tell us what a great job the Prime Minister is doing handling the economic recovery plan.The government has allocated four million to advertise the need of Canadians to prepare for the swine flue pandemic.The government is not supposed to use money from taxpayers to promote their own party but from my experience it has been the policy of every government to do the same. Shame.

Our death count in the war stands at 131 in Afghanistan. We must know by now that this war cannot and will not be won. From the earliest memories I had of The Bengal Lancers fighting in the Khyber Pass the people there have remained fiercely independent. Neither Britain, Russia or our coalition will be able to crack that tribal stronghold. The Taliban bolstered by drug money will become stronger as we use our modern weapons to kill insurgents and collateral damages rise to huge numbers.

It would be great if we could made a difference and we are on some fronts but the pace of change is so slow and the price so high. We should as many of our coalition are doing and leave that country and return to become what we do best, be peacekeepers. Many areas of the world could use our help in keeping the peace and building social programs to help individuals have a life. The billions we spend could make a vast difference with our own indigenous people or the women of Africa.

We have a fine record as soldiers and our military has been recognized as the very best and we must and do support them wherever they are sent by our government. I wish that the pullout dates are firm and our young men are spared from being put in harms way in the future unless it is in defence of our country or vital interests.

On a happier note we as Canadians seem to be better of economically than other western friends but we are paying a high price with a huge deficit of possibly 55 billion dollars. From a surplus a year or so ago to this deceit which will tie the hands of government for many years and needed social programs will be put on the back burners as a result.

Wars, bailouts and unemployment have given our leaders some tough problems to solve. Maybe, just maybe the people elected, all of them will be able to work to solve these challenges and forget their partisan positions.

In spite of what I have said the country we live is a great place in which to live and bring up a family.I wish that all Canadians had as good a life as we do and shared the bounty of our land.

Fall

It is that time of the year again and if you have a population of squirrels in your neighbourhood, you know it is fall time. Mother Nature knew people need variety in their life so she bestowed a special gift to those who live in climates with distinct seasons.Every season has its own characteristics but fall is special as it the season of bounty, beauty and plenty.

Most seasons come gradually but fall with it's growing season ending with harvesting of crops it seems to have more impact. Vast changes in the dress the earth wears and brilliant colours shock the eye when the sun shines through our red maples and turns our countryside into a panorama of beauty.

No season offers more apparent change. Theresa and I drove through our farming area on the way to the land fill site earlier in the week and were treated to vista's of yellow grain, shades of brown and purple as the farmers worked frantically to gather the harvest in the best weather we had on record. Perfect conditions to complete the summer of plenty amounts to prosperity for the farmer. The cows are fat and the babies of the land had a lush summer to grow .

Fall is the season for planning and to make the best use of our resources. Farmers never have it easy but in good years with bountiful crops the prices seem to go down so decisions have to be made as to timing for the sale of their product. I personally love to see our farmer families flourish as they are the backbone of our nation.

After praising the value of changing seasons ,many of us seek southern climates during our winters to enjoy endless summer. Having experienced years in extreme climate conditions I find the warm days and nights at our winter home heals the pain of arthritis. Fall gives me a chance to experience natures bounty and still have time to run for the shelter of the south in October.

Inukshuk

Inukshuk's are seen everywhere along highways where rock is available. People make these monuments to show that they have been there. In the Arctic there are thousands of Inushuk's placed there for many reasons.

Firstly they were built to show the way for nomad travellers moving across that baron land. In winter one cannot tell or distinguish between land or water. Everything appears the same. These markers peered above the snow showing the way.

These distinctive markers were often built to help in the harvesting the caribou. The markers were made to look like a person so as to guide the herds through a narrow passage so the Inuit hunters could get their winter meat and clothing. Caribou clothing is so warm that few northern travellers were able to withstand the extreme temperatures without it. Personally I used caribou for mittens, pants and hooded coats. I was rarely cold in temperatures sometimes reaching -80 with the wind chill factor.

Inukshuks were used to mark food caches. Hunters would place meat and fish in places and cover them with stones. In the winter months they are retrieved but would never be found if the Inuit did not leave a marker. This type of Inukshuk was usually a straight pile of stones ,one upon another to a height of 5-8 feet.

Good fishing places were sometimes marked with a collection of artistically built structures.

Where semi permanent settlements were present the Inuit marked their homes with cleverly built monuments.

Lynda came to visit me on several occasions and built a Inukshuk on the land behind my cabin overlooking Mount Pelly and Grenier Lake. It was still there years after when I went up there for a visit. Inuit never touch or destroy Inukshuk's as they understand the meaning and the importance of these Arctic landmarks.

Finally these markers were used to mark grave sites. When travelling on the tundra mishaps occured and people who died were buried immediately and their bodies covered with stones. Markers were erected if there was enough time and material available. In winter it is impossible to pick up a stone from the ground as everything id frozen solid.

I have a large Inukshuk in my backyard to keep me thinking about my life up there. It is comforting to look out my bedroom window and see that structure. Lately some chipmunks have made it their home and are often seen sitting on one of the arms of our Inukshuk.

Composting

I have been a composter for as long as I can remember.For the past 10 years I have increased my capacity to produce my own compost by means of four black composters and an open compost box. This method gives me at least ten wheelbarrows of clean ,black material which I convert to garden and lawn.I started with one plastic composter when our city gave them out for a few dollars.My neighbours discarded these from year to year because they were non-productive, dirty,attracted animals and smelly.

I took their boxes and turned them into great earth producers. Worms abound in the compost and add to the value of the product. I do have raccoons visit my composters and have a meal but I gladly share the table scraps with my furry friends. I have found that a couple of procedures make good composting better. First I place leaves,grass clippings and garden waste after making sure there is no material which will not break down in a year reaches the composter. Those materials I place in the open composter. I water frequently and mix up the contents when possible. Weeds are relegated to the open composter and begin a three year process. This assures that the seeds from weeds are dead. I empty my composter in the spring and sometimes in the fall.

Composted material by itself does not make ideal growing soil as it is recommended that a ratio of not more than 60 : 40 soil to compost be used.I prefer a lower ratio for root crops but it doesn't matter when used for trees or lawns.

Our city gives every citizen the opportunity to take up to 7 bags of free compost from the landfill site twice a year. This compost is excellent as it is monitored by the Dept. of Agriculture as to its value. Theresa and I were up there this morning and for a small donation of food for the food bank we gleaned about 1000 lbs of compost. A report every year tell us of the amount of diverted organic material recycled and it is impressive.This is an excellent project and is encouraged across Ontario.

We have our compost so I have to get to work to put it to use and I work happily when I think of what we are doing for mother earth.

Igloo is a Snow House

The first time I saw an Igloo was at the Ottawa Winter Carnival back some time in the late sixties. The builders were Inuit but the material used was Styrofoam. A pre-cut set of blocks which linked together enabled people to see how these igloos were constructed.When I moved to the high Arctic I saw first hand how they could be made and used.I, myself learned the skill of building snow houses to great advantage. My friend Ikey showed me the rudiments of the skill.

The first thing is finding the right kind of snow. Inuit are able to walk over the snow and could tell if it was ok by the sound. A hollow sound indicates a snow somewhat the consistency of Styrofoam.Blocks are about 5-6 inches thick and vary in size to meet the proper fit. If you cut an orange in two and peel it from the cut side to the top you see the mode of required construction.

You need a snow knife, a handsaw will do and a cutting tool like a butcher knife for making small adjustments when the block is fitted to another. First pick a snow which is suitable. Mark the size you wish to build and cut blocks and place them outside the circle. Generally you have a third of the igloo built as you move all the snow out of the marked area.The first block is the most important as all others must fit and cause a ever higher level to the wall.The blocks are fitted with the help of the snow knife. Each block is cut to bring the wall upward and inward. You travel in a circle just as the peel of the orange. In no time your igloo is enclosing your space and the construction stops when only a small hole remains on top. This hole is shaped and a block is inserted to make a perfect enclosure. You then cut a small entrance hole for a doorway.

All the remaining snow inside the igloo is packed down and covered with hides of muskoxen or cariboo. The entrance is extended by building a small porch. Your belongings are brought inside and a primer stove provides heat to 30 degrees. I olden times and still used by some, a kullick is lit with wicks from Arctic Cotton and seal oil. Beds were made of snow and covered with hides for warmth.

Outside the dogs are placed on a line 6 feet apart and fed frozen fish. They will sleep under the snow and be comfortable.Today the dogs will not be present but a snow machine will take its place.A half igloo makes a good garage and I have built these to protect the white tents when camping out in winter.

The true test of a good igloo is to be able to stand on the top when completed. A 10 foot igloo, 7 feet high can be constructed in less than an hour. After the igloo is completed snow is thrown over the structure to give it that smooth look.

Whaling Was A Dangerous Occupation

In the late 1800's European whale hunters came to the Arctic (eastern) in search for the oil which was extracted from the whale blubber. The Eastern Arctic was a virtual gold mine for whale hunting. These waters teemed with many varieties of these large animals and were close to the European market where whale oil was in great demand and drew high prices.

While I worked in the Eastern regions of Nunavut I had a home base in Qikiqtarjuaq (Broughton Island) and had the good fortune to travel extensively throughout the Baffin Region. On one such trip , travelling by snow machine I hugged the Eastern coast of Baffin Island and travelled due north towards Clyde River. It was clear and cold (-35) when we left and a breeze made it feel much colder. The ice was rough and we had a hard time making any time as we had to find ways around or through pressure ridges.

We made 60 miles and decided to make a night camp and start early the next day. My Inuit friend suggested we stay at a cove not far away so we headed in to make camp. Half igloos were constructed in minutes and white tents set up. Two primer stoves made the tent comfortable and we set to have our meal of seal,shot on the way here and some dry char which I provided. Camp being set I toured the area on foot and came upon a abandoned whaling camp.

Everything stays the same in the high Arctic as it really is a frozen desert and the atmosphere preserves the objects left there. Oil boiling pots and sheds, barrels and tools used in the trade were scattered everywhere. There was something else that caught my eye. A grave yard with 16 crosses made their impression on me for there on the white cross was the name Will Brown from Dundee ,Scotland. He could have been a relative of mine.

I had a pic taken and my mind imagined the cause of his death. Too often the men perished when they fell overboard as your life would be taken in 7 minutes in the cold waters of the Arctic. Perhaps he was sick or fell to the dreaded scurvy. Whatever the cause he died and was buried there in this desolate place only to be seen by the wildlife and occasional Inuit family passing through.

We stayed that night and I was awakened by the howling of a lonesome wolf. The call was returned and soon there was a concert of howls so lonely and foreboding I could not sleep. I got up and walked to that grave yard and listened to the north calling me as it has ever since. I was back where I belonged but not for much longer as my time up there would come to a an end,too soon.

Life in the Arctic is cold, cruel, demanding and dangerous but the rewards for having lived some time there is so rewarding that my wish would be that everyone seek a time in the last frontier. When I was a child a teacher told me that you should, see Naples and die. My answer to this is see the Arctic and live.

APPLE PICKING TIME

We have two apple trees and they flourish in this climate of good soil, hot days and cool nights.Our oldest apple tree is a Northern Spy and the best for baking and pies. A large apple which cooks well with a yellowish colour and a tangy taste. Years ago it was prized as a winter apple because of its ability to stay fresh for months. Today with controlled atmosphere storage this is not a problem.

We picked a couple of bushels on the weekend and made apple sauce for the winter. Apple picking is not just about apples but the time of the year. For us it signals the late Indian Summer days which tells us winter is just around the corner. We have been experiencing an exceptional weather forecast for the past month and we needed this to make up for the less than friendly summer.

We could go to the local u.pick orchard and gather in our needs for a small price. We choose to grow our own and prune, spray and fertilize our beauties as a labour of love. Theresa and I often talk of downsizing and doing a little less in the field of growing but we never get around to it. Getting your hands dirty in your own soil keeps us in touch with what made this country great,the farmers who feed the world and work very hard to keep their land healthy.

We look at this lifestyle as a reality check and hope to continue growing our own produce as long as our health permits. Most of my friends agree and continue their quest for organic food.

First Arctic Ice

Come September we get very heavy frost and low temperatures. Looking in my diary I see that on Sept 15 in 1995 the temperature was -34. I was about to try to get to my cabin by way of the river but the lack of snow made it hard on my Komitick so I decided to run up the lake instead. The ice was crystal clear and without snow it was very difficult to use the snowmobile.

It was fun to speed up and turn the machine a little and spin and spin. The weather rarely permits the ice to freeze so perfectly and all the people were out on the lake and skating and having a grand time. The ice would eventually be 9 feet thick but at this early stage it was about a foot thick. The children were lying on the ice and watching the Char swim below as clear as crystal. Some cut holes in the ice and were jigging for Char with great success.

Our hamlet was enjoying the four hours of sun before the 4 months of darkness. One family had a polar bear hide tied to the back of their snowmachine and were giving the kids a ride of their life. Boys and girls had their bikes and were travelling over the smooth surface with a skill I never mastered. Kids up here used their bikes all year and became proficient at travelling over smooth ice without incident. Sad to say that when pressure ridges occur and leads appear there are deaths from drowning as kids fall in the leads and drown. Every Inuit child is taught the dangers but every year there are deaths.

The sun started to go down and old tires were burned to provide light for skating. A merchant appeared with a small barbeque and muskoxen burgers were provided. The Hudson Bay Store and the Co-op were equally generous on occasions like this.This would be the last time the hamlet would celebrate on the ice until the spring. People lingered until the fire burned down and the burgers were finished. It was now -38 but the locals did not mind. It would be many months before we would have another get together on the ice. Remember this is the high Arctic and these folks were Inuit. Before all the people left the lake our renowned Drum Dancer offered a prayer and sang a drum song. Very moving and I thought spiritual.

Gardens Make and Keep Friends Together

Doug and I have been friends for about 40 years. We have much in common as we worked together, played several sports on the same team and had gardens. Doug comes from a Scottish background as his parents came to Canada when times were tough and nurtured a fruit orchard in the St Lawrence lowlands. Life had to be tough for all Canadians at that time but with conversations with Doug times were really tough for new Canadians.

When we worked together I found that Doug had knowledge about fruit trees. I often asked him for help but he seemed to be a little reluctant to share his secrets. He became more forthcoming when he had his large garden along the Madawaska River near the Prior. He became very attentive with his growing of trees, flowers and vegetables.

When I phone him I always know that we have something in common. We both love nature and anything that grows. He has a large half acre and I envy him but live in reflected glory of the trees he had planted. He takes great pride in his beautiful arbour and I know he knows every tree by name .

I love to visit he and his wife at least once a year.We talk of old times, gardens, play pool and have a game of golf. Who wins is not important but the time I share with him is. Doug and his wife were married the year I moved to Pembroke she was a girl from the country, Beachburg Country actually so it was easy to see how Doug became a green gardener. We hope to get up there in a week or two and have a visit and maybe a boat ride on the Mighty Madawaska.

I will bring up some surplus strawberry plants and a few chestnuts to add to his already flourishing forest. People who garden always have something in common and close to the earth but it does not have much in common with our politics as Doug is still in a growing stage.We banter about federal politics but I bet we would agree one hundred percent on everything GREEN.

Terry Fox

Permission for use is granted by Wikipedia.

For many years I had a large photo of Terry Fox in my Principal's office and in the hallway next to the picture of the Queen. He was my personal hero and I used his success as a role model for my students.His physical feat of running nearly 40 miles a day for weeks on end on one leg while battling cancer which caused him to lose his other leg was incredible.

With my luck I was president of the local cancer society and chairman of fundraising. Our allocation for the previous was somewhere near $35,000. The year of Terry Fox's run we raised over $200,000. He was such an inspirational person. I was at the Toronto Convention Centre when he came to speak after walking 40 miles in the rain and as he hobbled across the stage making that thump, thump noise from his artificial leg and foot you could hear a pin drop.

He was tired and out of sorts because his schedule was changed and the promoters asked him to do too much.He began to speak saying how much he was encouraged about the fundraising he created since he crossed the Ontario border that he knew his goal would be met. He spoke softly as he expressed to all of us his cause. He wanted to raise enough money to get a cure for cancer. Tears streamed from his tired eyes as he spoke and every person there cried openly as well. He said he did not want much from anyone only a dollar from every Canadian. That would have been about $25,000,000. His runs during and since have raised much, much more than that.

Terry did not complete his walk across Canada, he stopped the run on top of a hill near Thunder Bay. His cancer returned. When he made that announcement from the side of his small van on that cold evening he was so tired he could not complete his interview. He did say that he would be back...he never completed that promise as he died shortly after. What he did do was raise the awareness of the need for research and begin a yearly run that raises tens of millions of dollars .

On the spot where he had to stop his run now stands a statue of Terry and a plaque telling his story of courage and endurance. He was and is a true Canadian Hero. I have stopped at that place and cannot look at his monument without shedding a tear and remembering how he so changed our concept of what constitutes a hero. We need more young people like Terry Fox.

You may want to read the letter Terry Fox wrote to the cancer society to get support for his vision ...

I am not a dreamer, and I am not saying that this will initiate any kind of definitive answer or cure to cancer. But I believe in miracles. I have to.

Terry Fox, October 1979

Visit To A Real Gypsy Camp

Photo of Lord Gordon Parry courtesy of Wikipedia (in public domain).

In the late Seventies I had the good fortune to be a guest of the country of Wales along with my family. Lord Gordon Parry and Lady Glenys Parry were our hosts and great one at that. Our friendship came as a result of a twinning situation between Pembroke, Wales and Pembroke, Canada. We hosted Lord Parry and his friends while they were visiting Canada, and we were invited to go to Wales for a ten day holiday at a later date.

Part of our visit was a tour through a Gypsy encampment to meet singer Tom Jones' mother, who lived there. The tour began with all of us piling in our twelve passenger van and heading to this abandoned gravel pit. As we entered the gravel pit we passed what seemed like hundreds of huge lorries. These trucks were used by the Gypsy men who scavenged about the area and picked up garbage.

Before entering this area Lord Parry explained that this area was allocated as the home for Gypsies. The gravel pit was several miles long and housed several thousand people who were called Gypsies. He explained that they did not have full citizenship but had lived there for years. The further in the gravel pit you lived, the higher you were up in the hierarchy of the Gypsy royalty. He said that it would not be wise to enter this area without permission. Everyone here lived in what we call house trailers on wheels which could be moved at a moments notice.

Many of these trailers were beautiful and decorated in the traditional style of Gypsy lore. Before we actually entered the gravel pit, Lord Parry assured the people of his intentions of showing his Canadian friends the camp and meeting Mrs. Jones. That was not her actual name but she was Tom Jones' mother. We travelled a long distance before stopping in front of this particularly beautiful and ornate trailer. Mrs. Jones came out and greeted Lord Parry warmly and he introduced us to this celebrity.

We retreated from this camp and I was astonished to find that there was a double standard for Gypsies. Lord Parry was an advocate for the Gypsies and was loved by them in return. He exercised what influence he had to get them the right to vote and have regular citizenship. He was only partially successful. We as Canadians were shocked but understood the dilemma under which these people lived for centuries. The overt prejudice was apparent but they still prevailed in keeping some semblance of dignity and self worth. Their music is unique and their spirit unbroken as they continue to live the Gypsy life.

This was another experience which helped shape my value system of believing in the equality and value of each unique individual who shares the earth.

Gypsies

Image courtesy of Documentary Educational Resources

We are reading a great deal about Roma Gypsies these days and not without some concern. These people were a tortured group throughout history and Hitler slaughtered over half a million along with the Jews, gays and "imperfect people" who offended his concept of a master race.

I don't really know if my knowledge of the true Gypsies in my home in Cape Breton is all factual by actually observing these people or a combination of seeing and hearing about them blended into a memory which is real to me. As a young boy Gypsies frequented our part of the country.They appeared on the commons in our town several times a year. They drifted in at night time and set up camp. Horse drawn houses on wheels, pulled by two or four draft animals was an impressive sight. Their little homes were ornate and decorated with carvings and embossed with shiny metal and brightly coloured spokes in the wheels. Reds, yellows and blues were the dominant colours used and they made a most engaging sight.

When the Gypsies came to town my mother told us to stay away from their camps where open fires brightened the evening sky and music from the violin, guitar and the lute made it impossible to conform to that demand. The commons was a short distance from our home and right close to the poor house. A blind pig operated openly at the crossing and was frequented by the elite of our town. A good setting for the Gypsies.

To my knowledge the Gypsies were demonized as thieves, fortune tellers and people who could not be trusted. I never found this to be true but I was young and taken in by the excitement of sneaking up close to their camp and watching with big eyes the feast of colourful going on's. They were tinkers and made silver jewellery and repaired pots and pans and sold a variety of goods to anyone who came by.

It seemed they left our town as they came, in the middle of the night and silently. There were many tales of missing children, not to say horses and livestock after they departed. All this was part of the lore surrounding these hapless folk without a home and offered a place in various towns for a limited time with restricted movements. I shall tell of a visit to a real Gypsy camp in a later blog. Gypsies are one of the most persecuted groups of people in the world and should hold our attention.

Cutting Down a Friend

A tree is just a tree - unless it is my peach tree which was finally put to rest this week. A small four foot sapling to begin with and $8 at the end of year sale at the local green house. When I planted it I was worried that it would not survive the winter. Survive it did and come spring it grew way beyond my expectations. In the month of May a few buds produced small flowers which turned out to become peaches.

A dozen beautiful peaches made up the crop for the first year but the real prize was the amount of growth in the second year. It stretched to eight feet and branched out in a nice pattern which promised better days ahead.For two years the story was repeated, much fruit and prolific growth. On the fifth year we could not believe the amount of blossoms and size the tree reached.

On a cool night in one July we were awake watching a lightning storm blow in from the lake and the rain started. We were amazed at the violence of the wind and rain and I feared the worst for our fruit trees. All of a sudden we heard that terrible sound of one of our trees being split asunder.

I jumped to the window but was greeted by a sight I did not wish as our beautiful peach tree, laden with too many fruit split in two parts and fell to the ground. I returned to bed giving Theresa the sad news and had a troubled sleep. A little after daybreak I arose and went out to view the tree.

It split exactly in two. I cut one part of the tree and the other sprang upright. I was about to finish the job but I somehow felt that this tree had a will to live. I left it and that year we received a wonderful crop of Red Haven Peaches. For four more years the result was the same. This year after a gallant effort the tree gave a crop that was superb but the bark separated from the trunk and after we picked the fruit I decided to replace our peach tree.

Theresa and her Mom went to the clinic for their regular yearly blood tests and I went to the back yard with my tools of destruction on hand. As I cut this tree down I felt badly so I erased it from our yard before the girls came home. It was a good tree and we will miss the Red Havens next year at this time. I am a pantheist and felt close to this special tree given on our first anniversary by my elderly mother in law.

I have a friend Doug who loves trees as much as I do and knows more about them than I do and I am sure he would feel as I do at the loss of a tree friend.

Just Talking Out Loud

There is much talk these days of politics in our area and around the world. When the economy is healthy and most everyone is working and well fed we hear little of the acrimony being spewed from the news media these days.The leaders are on trial by the public to make sure they are doing the best they are able to in these days of doom and glum. Some predict that the worst is over and the world is beginning to recover from the worst economic crisis in a hundred years. Try to tell it to the people who have just lost their job and seen the factory they worked in going south to Mexico or closing forever.

This situation came about by the greed of our financial institutions and brought every country in the modern world to stagger to a horrible stop. Bailouts and propped up car plants and factories that really deserved to go out of business are working on tax dollar money.

When we studied economics at university we were told that the free market enterprise system was the only way for countries and business to operate. Competition and the profit motive would be the driving force of our nations and individuals wishing to get ahead. The word socialism was a nasty word and still is for many but the rich and powerful interests are lining up to use our taxpayers dollars to become even more rich and powerful.It is peculiar that Marx was speaking about these situations years ago and only now are we dusting off these writings to see what went wrong.

I am not supporting Marx's theories but I do realize that socialism in some form are necessary for the division of the wealth of any country to provide basic services. In Canada the country was brought together by the building of the railways and paid for by tax dollars. Our roads, education facilities, health care and justice systems are all funded by tax dollars. There may be some in America who would like to look at the recent bailout of General Motors where the money was provided and the people now own GM. Is that socialism?

Socialism is only a bad word if we relate it to communism. Our whole Christian ethic is based on a form of helping you neighbour and respecting each as equal in the sight of the supreme power. We could talk about this forever and never come to a consensus but let it be enough to say that this economic difficult time has shaken many of our beliefs and will see a different world when this is all over.

My wish is that our system of values and ethics will be such that our common needs and goals will prevail over our selfish interests.

Obama

Last night I was proud of the President of the USA. He spoke to the joint houses of government but he really was talking to me and to you. Those elected officials seem to be entrenched along party lines on an issue that is of utmost importance to everyone. However those people in the government do not have a care as they have a platinum health plan.

What impressed me to most was the manner in which he presented the case for universal health care. There was no politics offered nor mentioned throughout his hour long speech to the nation. A carefully written and delivered case was made and it is up to the men in positions of power to do the right thing. People should not let this issue be lost but should insist on action. I feel that this is the time and Obama is in the best position to see the necessary changes come to fruition.America will have a new health care program before the new year if the people have their way. Everyone should get involved and phone, write and talk about this issue with their elected officials.

09.09.09

These numbers come up in one form or another every year. For some reason I will just write a few concerns I have and probably they are some of the same ones you have.

I am very concerned about the men and women who are fighting overseas in a war which cannot and will not be won.

I am concerned that there are people who have no medical coverage and their lives are been ruined as a result.

I am concerned about our leaders who are struggling to make real changes but are apposed by vested interests.

I am concerned about the United Nations' inability to grasp the African question and bring some resolve to that ravaged continent.

I am concerned about global warming and our futile efforts to make the changes necessary to bring about positive results.

I am concerned about the millions of children who do not have clean water when we have the means but not the will to correct the situation.

Finally I am concerned that we as people are not good stewards of the land and environment which give us life.

Report Cards at School 2009

Reporting to parents is one of the many tasks given to teachers as a major responsibility. Parents have a right to get and understand regular report about their child's progress or lack of the same in a timely manner. I say this as regular reporting may not be timely in the case where there appears to be a striking change in the students behaviour or work progress.

Today in Ontario there is a growing feeling among teachers that the reporting system is failing to meet the needs of the school and the parents. Remarks that are taken from a list to note the child's progress as it relates to the curriculum may not be timely or understood by the patent. The one acid test for a good report in my mind is one which clearly conveys to the student and parent progress in the facets of the curriculum. This cannot be done by taking a remark from a list that is prepared by people who are curriculum orientated.

The teacher interview is the best way to discuss the student's progress because there is a two way conversation. The teacher may glean information from the parent to fill in the gaps as to why there were changes in behaviour or learning patterns. These interviews should not be scheduled only at mandated times but whenever there seems to be a need. Catch a problem in the early stage and you save time and effort to correct the difficulty. You should as a parent receive communication about the good things that occur form time to time. Think of the good result when you phone a parent about something positive and the attitude reflected towards the school afterward.

There is no better way to make schooling understood and respected than clear lines of communication. Therefore we must make our reports to parents as personal as possible and reflect the best light on the student. Verbal reports, face to face meetings meet such a demand along with the required written format.

This places a big responsibility on the busy teacher but good teachers manage this chore very well.

First Day of School

For over 50 years of my life I was excited because it was the first day of school. As a 5 year old I was taken to school by my sister Jeannie who was smaller than I, but clearly the boss, as she was 14 months older. I did not want to go to school and kicked up quite a fuss so my mom decided to bribe me with several of those small bananas which she kept in the sideboard drawer for a Sunday special treat. This was during the war and bananas were a scarce commodity.

Off we went to meet the world with my two bananas tucked in my pants pocket. I was delivered to my grade one teacher or rather, pushed through the door. The teacher was a tall beautiful lady wearing a grey suit with a artificial flower pinned to her left shoulder. She smiled and led me to a desk at the front of the class. My seatmate was a cute girl but I wanted no part of sitting with a girl. Once I got this settled we began our day.

Exercises -- you know-- stand and flex your arms high and sidewards etc. I thought at this time that school was not that bad. However I had to go to the bathroom. I put up my hand and asked if I could go to the outhouse as we had outside plumbing at home at that time.

Miss came to my rescue and took me by the hand to the door. It was strange holding a lady's hand like that but I didn't mind. She pointed to the end of the hall and told me to go down stairs and turn left. "You will find the bathroom there."

But my bananas were in my desk. Were they safe or should I take them with me? They were my recess treat. Miss assured me that they were safe and told me to go. I ran to the top of the stairs and down to what should have been the bathroom.

I looked and almost had to hold myself as I was so desperate when the janitor, old Mr. Johnson, came and guided me to the boys toilet. Wow, I never saw a toilet like this. A long trough, a little too high, but the janitor told me that is where I had to do my business. I did and went out and up the stairs. Where was my classroom? I was lost and started to panic.. I saw a classroom door and entered. I started to look in desks for my bananas and was startled when a stern, mean lady who was also the principal grabbed me and yanked me to the hallway. She questioned me and all I could say was that I was looking for my bananas. By this time my teacher realized that I was missing and came out to have a look. She rescued me from that women and took me back to class. I entered the class and everyone stared and laughed at me. I wanted to die but not before I checked to see if my prized bananas were still there, safe.

I managed to get through the morning and at recess I ate the two small bananas. School was not too bad at all. In fact it was so good that during the next fifty years I looked forward to the first day of school.

Glenda Leigh

The youngest of three daughters and turning 45 poses a challenge for this busy lady. Somehow I feel that there is a reluctance for my daughter to age. The other two already passed this milestone without much ceremony or concern. Glenda is different because she has too much to do and not enough time to meet her demands of living in a stressful world.

Glenda was a beautiful baby and child. Energy was her middle name as she faced the world as she would a candy store. So many choices and not time for everything. She was little miss homemaker always helping with the dishes (she broke many) and things around the house. At school Glenda did well and participated in sports and excelled. Playing third base at little league in a (then) boys-only game gave her a challenge. She and a friend Jennifer broke the barrier and were the first girls to play for a organized boys team in our town.

All through high school she gained confidence through her participation in school life. As a parent you could only be proud of her as I was of all my children. Glenda had a great start in life.

Now Glenda faces a different set of challenges. A mother of three, two in university and one in grade eight makes for plenty of life decisions. She keeps busy in her spare time to be the supervisor of student services workers for the school board and if that is not enough she works at a children's hospital on weekends as a support staff worker counselling needy patients.

A runner and athlete, even at her age keeps her fit and keeping up to her son and his busy life is a challenge. Now Glenda will turn 45 and as family members we will benefit from her knowledge about behaviour and education in general. We will have to give her that attention she commands because she has arrived and is part of that group called young middle age.

We will gather as we always do and celebrate this birthday with happiness and remember the times in her life that she made us laugh, proud and most of all happy that she is our daughter, our sister and our friend.

Spaghetti Sauce

Beginning in the mid sixties we made spaghetti sauce using a recipe which was used by a number of our close friends but probably my mother in law was the one who made me a believer. I always grew great tomatoes and lots of them.Come fall the natural thing to do was to keep them in some usable form for the winter.

At first I made and canned a dozen quarts or so but as time went on we bottled up to 50 quarts. That seems like a lot but by the time you share with friends and family the number is more like 35 quarts. This year we had a bumper crop but still decided to downsize for our goal was 25 quarts.

Much to our surprise when we went to the process of actually making this sauce, we see that the real number will be around 36 quarts. So much for downsizing. We love to eat pasta at least once a week and this amount will be used in a hurry. Theresa and I take more than a dozen bottles to Florida to treat our American friends to Ontario tomatoes at their best, in spaghetti sauce.

There is no doubt of the nutrition value in tomatoes and we try to eat them in some form or another but in Florida you cannot buy a good eating tomato. We grow our own there as well and as a green gardener we have the same result as we do in Ontario, great tasting tomatoes.The secret is to use good seed, fertilize with organic material, cow manure and water often. Do not add these quick growth chemicals and you will be rewarded.

Today we will complete our bottling and have a supper with our new fresh sauce and pasta. We will judge it and make the same remark we do each year and declare it the best ever. I expect my family to appear any minute after all the sauce is in the bottles. They know a good thing as well and we will have a visit as a bonus.

You Are Out

I just returned home after watching an incredible minor ball game. The game started at eight in the morning and the weather was perfect. The ball diamond was prepared for the playoffs and was absolutely ready for the test. This game was between 13 year old boys. The large boys were nearly six feet tall and close to 200lbs and the wee ones were four foot seven and 85 lbs. The size difference caused some in the bleachers to call out rude remarks about the fairness as they thought that teams may have cribbed on the age of some.

The game was played in a fine manner with both teams scoring runs off of nice hits, and errors made by embarrassed players. Everyone seemed to be having fun and the coaches were friendly and cheerful in their remarks to their players. High fives and pats greeted the players from both teams as they reached their benches between innings.

These players play seven inning games in the tournament format playoffs. In three days the kids would be required to play up to six games if they went all the way to the championship game. By the sixth inning the tone of the game changed. With the score tied the coaches began to become more assertive and shouts from the respective benches began to harbour fears that the game would be lost if more effort was not forthcoming from their players.

Stomping of feet and mumblings between the coaches about changing some players because they were not playing as well as they expected, caused anxiety among the payers. Shouted advice from all on the bench as a 13 year-old got up to bat with two out and the game in the balance. What pressure.

The seventh inning only raised the tone some more and the coaches were no longer the happy care free adults helping kids enjoy baseball, but were in fact projecting their expectations into the game. The players no longer came to the bench to place their bat in the rack, but came to the bench a threw the bat after striking out. Gloves were thrown to the ground in disgust after missing a routine fly ball. The intensity was high. With two out at the top of the seventh the home team had players on first and third and the batter hit a good ball to the short left field.

The player on third rushed home and the catcher guarded the plate although he had not yet received the ball. The fielder threw a good strike from his position in the field and there was going to be a crash at home plate. However the ball was way late and the runner plowed into the catcher who still was waiting for the ball. The umpire called the runner out on a little league rule that states that a runner must not hit the catcher if he is without the ball.

The coach ran out on the field and began shouting at the umpire in an uncontrolled manner. The umpire took this treatment for a bit and the stated the rule and promptly threw the coach out of the game. The young player who was called stood up and threw his helmet on to the ground and shouted something like *&^%&^. The umpire had him removed as well. How quickly the young players emulate their coaches. Sad.

The team now without its head coach was able to regroup, and the assistant coaches managed for three overtime innings without incident - and won the game. The players, with the example of the assistant coaches, ended the game in a manner that brought back dignity to the game designed for just that -- playing the game by the rules and having fun. Some adults cannot get that through their heads. The game belongs to the kids and not the coaches.

I Hate Plumbing

This week I had the misfortune to be faced with our basement toilet broken and unusable and the toilet in our condo in the same condition. Everyone knows that plumbers charge $75 per hour for their services. I for one think it is money well spent. On the other hand I fix most everything that goes wrong in our houses. I am Scottish and know a little about everything and try to avoid using the tradesmen.

Yesterday I found myself trying to fit my ample body in a space which was made to be occupied by extra soap, cleaning materials and necessary junk to keep a house running. Cramped in this space I had to reach the master shutoff for the water. I used to see people on Ed Sullivan fit themselves in ridiculous spaces but this was every bit as bad. After reaching my goal I began the process of changing the gear in the flush box. Simple enough if you know Chinese but I discovered that English was on the other side.

That accomplished, I swore it was the last plumbing job I would attempt as I had to put the water back on and it was just as difficult as turning it off. Today I talked to my neighbour and he said his plumber came and could not solve his problem but charged him $90 service charge.

I was convinced that I could do one more job. I attacked this job with an optimistic attitude and gathered my tools for the task. Little did I know that renovations to our bathroom made it almost impossible to get to that darn water valve. I did manage and without difficulty replaced the workings in the flush box. Next the plugged sink.

I was adamant that Theresa and her Mom plugged the sink with their hair washing . As I opened the release vent at the bottom of the goose neck I discovered something different. There was a couple of finish nails, a penny and a mass of guck gathered over ten years. I cleared it in minutes and cleaned up my mess. I always make a mess but clean up afterwords.

This latest adventure in the plumbing world convinced me that even a retired educator could pass himself off as a plumber. It is funny how we are motivated by money.