Just Fine - Guest Post

This post is brought to you by Polar Bear's daughter Lyn. His surgery has to wait for another day; seems he is anaphylactic to penicillin or perhaps the anesthetic. But no worries, they figured it out and he is recovering nicely. He is disappointed that his procedure is deferred however his feisty spirit prevailed! Not to be silenced, he motioned for paper and pen and immediately started scrawling out directives, questions and feelings. We knew he was going to be okay when he wrote "how is my hair? His forehead wrinkled and his eyes squinted and I saw a flicker of his sense of humour ...  I drew him a picture, and I think I saw a hint of smile. Just a little.

So it will be a recovery of a different nature and we all shared his disappointment. He was so prepared and focused on getting to the other side of the operation to start his recovery. But that will have to wait for another day. I know he would want me to let you know that right now, tonight, he is just fine.

The Pressure Is On

Wednesday night and 9.30 pm and my three daughters who came for a final visit are still talking. I interrupt the evening and tell them it is time to go. I still had to take in the sprinkler, tidy the garage and pack for my adventure tomorrow. I had calls from friends and family and the time I allotted for the packing and getting ready was eroded when I ran into trouble with the final stair railing.

Theresa and I had a smooth run on all the railings until I felt rushed and had a little bad luck. An anchor bolt or screw ran into a nail head and stripped. I had to start again and it was no easy task to find a new place to place the rail bracket. We did manage but time was running out.

We went shopping for a grabber and mouth wash and found a few bargains at No Frills so we had to shop and fill our freezer with discount, bargain steaks and hamburg.

I as surprised that I am not nervous but tomorrow will be another story. I have been living in pain for over ten years and the prospect of an operation to correct this problem was a no brainer for me. Theresa and I are planning some major trips, adventures in the near future and I have to be able to walk in a proper manner. My doctor said, not promised that I will have three to six months of pain and hard work but after that I will have as much freedom as I am able to find by doing my part. I am ready for the challenge and would hope that I will be able to cut the six months by a month or two. In any case I am in their hands and I will do as I am instructed.

The support I have received in the past few weeks has been amazing and my family set such a high standard I can only make sure I will not let them down. I suspect that my daughter will write a few blogs for me during the time I am bed ridden but I shall be back real soon. One of the real motivations for me will be to get back writing again.

Time On My Hands

In a few days I shall have had my procedure whereby the expectation will be to walk and move normally. There is one hitch however, it comes at a cost. There will be a considerable recovery time. Depending on my progress there could be months before my health is returned to what you could call normal. During this recovery time I will be told to walk several times a day and that is it. No lifting, mowing the lawn or even light work.

Since I am an active person and not used to all this time on my hands I must plan to utilize this new found freedom to good use. I will write more and clean up some children's books I have been working on, probably work with my daughter in editing my book and read some literature that has been overlooked for years.All these plans are worthy of consideration but I have been thinking that I should take time to work on relationships and develop a plan to get to know my relatives and friends that I have been neglecting.

I could document my progress and see if this endeavour is worthy. I am compiling a list of people with whom I had past enjoyable relationships and try to discover if there is still something to be gained from rekindling the friendship.There is one thought that has haunted me for years and it is non verbal communication. I have been interested and in fact amazed that there has not been more concern for this aspect of teaching and the skills associated with this important topic.

All these ideas could be accomplished with a computer, a telephone and pen and paper. I guess the question of what Bill is doing now stirs my imagination. Ideas begin in wonder and end in wisdom so we will see. My next months of living will be treated as an adventure for me and I hope the trip will enrich my life and those around me.

Cora Schade

I was a young school principal in 1956 in a bilingual private school in Temiscaming ,Quebec. I was hired while living in Pointe Claire by the International Pulp $ Paper Company. I was to be the principal of the elementary section of the school and play hockey for the Temiscaming Royals of the Northern Ontario-Quebec Senior  Hockey League. At the end of my year there appeared an opening for a principal of a elementary public school in Magnetawan. A friend of mine wished me to move to Ontario where the prospects of advancement were greater and I could still follow my small hockey career,

In Temiscaming I was receiving $2800 for my work in education and a like amount for hockey. I was offered $3800 for being the principal of the regional school and responsibilities with some one room schools. I interviewed for the job and was asked to consider the boards offer. I loved my present position but realized that Ontario was the better option for me. I accepted the position.

One of my fellow hockey players had a mother living in the village and as she was in her eighties she needed company. The recent death of her son caused her stress and she was not sure how to deal with this. Wardie asked me to consider living with Cora as a possibility. I went to see her and though we would be a good match. She was a proud, gruff German Canadian who laid down the rules. $40 a month room and board and she would do the washing and ironing. It sounded good to me and we shook hands,

On the last days of August I arrived at her house and moved in. I never had many clothes or baggage but a big appetite. Cora made German food and baked in the same mode. We hit it off and for the next few days she gave me a lesson about the area and the school board members. She singled out the trouble makers in the school district and who would be supportive etc, I listened and learned. She was a religious person and respected me for going to church and being a lay preacher.We would eat supper together and sit in the living room to watch the news and talk world affairs.

She was a simple woman but had a brain as sharp as a tack. She had her political biases but respected the privacy of each person to choose their way.Cora would ask me what I wanted to eat for supper every night for the next day but rarely gave me what I asked for. I questioned her on that and she explained that I never asked what she wanted so she did her own thing. She loved sauer kraut and rough sausage and at first I never cared for them. I soon learned to love her food. In the fall she asked me to set aside a certain day for a special helping day. I agreed and when that day came so did a couple of bushels of cabbage. We were going to make kraut.

We did indeed, three kinds and I did the work as she gave the orders. She laughed and we had a great time.Three large crocks of kraut that would be ready for eating in a few weeks. I learned a good lesson at that time and have made Kraut for years after. Cora's maiden name was Wuurm and always told the story of her going to the local dances and being asked to dance by the local boys with the expression, would you like to wiggle wuurm? Every time she told the story she would slap her leg and give out that great free blast of joy.

Cora looked after me as if I were her son and I looked upon her as a away Mom. She was 84 and I was twenty but we had so much in common. When I went out on a date with one of the local girls I was filled in with a total life history and a few words of advice.

Her son who died from cancer was a Presbyterian minister who was an outstanding athlete and an accordion player who entertained many with his music. One day when I was in the washroom I opened a cabinet door and there was this accordion all wrapped up in tape. Not knowing the circumstances I took off the tape and began playing. I heard this scream from down stairs and Cora yelling Alderman's name. She bounded up the stairs and grabbed the accordion from my grasp and with a look of total disdain she scolded me. Naturally I felt badly but never knew the cause. That supper time was difficult for me. I stayed quiet until she explained the true shock and impact his death had on her.

I apologized and she cried and forgave me. A week later on the Saturday ,Cora asked me to take our tea in the living room. When I sat down there was the accordion by my chair. Cora smiled and asked me to play a hymn for her. She cried a little but this became a ritual and she said I brought back his spirit with my playing but it was pail by comparison to his renditions.

Time went fast during those two years I lived with Cora and when I married and left we wrote and telephoned until her death some few years later. Cora was a steady hand and character builder in my early life and I visit her grave sight where she is laid to rest close to my first wife Roma. Cora and Roma were related in more ways than one and filled those years back in Magnetawan with joy when I was young and needed friendship and love.

Black Brambles and Choke Cherries

In Cape Breton wild berries abound and people use this resource to make jams and jellies.Where we lived there was an abundance of blue berries and wild cherries but one of my favourites was black brambles. These large berries grew on a vine that was embedded with thorns. You had to pay the price to pick and eat this fruit.
My mother was always warning us of getting the summer complaint for over eating these delicious wonders. One Saturday morning my friend and I realized that the fruit were ready for picking. We decided to plan a fishing expedition to the head of the Big Pond. There were speckled trout there in the spring and we liked to catch our share. What we really wanted was to go to our special place and eat wild cherries and black brambles.

We lied to our Mom's and kept our plan away from them as they would disapprove. In the morning we made our peanut butter and jam sandwiches and with a bottle of pop and fishing line made our way to the treed area down behind our house. Before leaving we dug the garden for worms and filled half a can and added a little soil to keep them alive. We did cut an alder fishing pole and and bait a hook to try our luck in MacArthur's Brook. We even caught a few little fish but  our mind was on the black brambles.

We found a place where there was an old crop pit,long filled in and overgrown with the bramble vines. To say the least we ate and ate until we could eat not another berry. We tried to eat some of our lunch but we could not. Even the Pepsi Cola did not taste very good. By now it was mid morning so we headed in the direction of home. We ate a few choke cherries which made a tell tale dark ring around our mouths. Our hands were scratched from the bramble vines and discoloured from the berry juice.

We began to feel guilty and afraid of what consequences might befall us when we returned home. We tried to make up a good story but that did not work.Our stomach began to turn and were had sudden urges to feel sick. Our mother's words began to echo in our mind and we suddenly though that summer complaint was more serious than we earlier believed. We began to think of getting home as soon as possible.

As we arrived at our house my friend just waved goodbye and ran full tilt to make his home and bathroom in time. I was a little more casual and tried to get by the watchful eye of my mother to reach the bathroom. No luck and I had to stand the scrutiny of a trained eye. Mom spelled out the real adventure we had by pointing to the scratches and berry juice stains on my face and hands. I could wait no more and for the next hours I began to understand the phrase,summer complaint. I learned a lesson and it was some time before I used the excuse of going fishing when I was really going looking for a summer complaint.

Chipmunk Heaven

We have always had our share of chipmunks in our yard. They are tame and will eat out of our hands and seem to be everywhere this year. People in our area have been remarking about the numbers of these little creatures and some of the destructive habits they have.

In our case they seem to think that the strawberry patch is their domain and every time I see a chipmunk ,their mouth is stuffed with large red strawberries.There is no way to protect your garden from these little thieves In past years when we had only a few freeloaders it did not matter. This year there are so many they are harvesting the bulk of our fruit.

The little creatures are great problem solvers as well. We have some bird feeders which have restrictive coverings over the feeding holes and the chipmunks after days of trying managed to breach the feeders and run off with all the bird food set out for tiny finches.

Our favourite chipmunk which we call chipper is so bold and tame and it will climb on us and reach in our shirt pocket to get peanuts. In spite of their thievery we love the entertaining little fellows and wish them no harm.

Project Completed

Theresa and I were taking our evening walk when a neighbour was surveying her newly landscaped front yard. A large pile of bricks were sitting neatly stacked by the side of the driveway. As we chatted she offered us the bricks providing we got them out of there. We accepted the offer and as we completed our walk we stopped in front of our home and decided that we had an ugly brick ring around our large maple tree. Immediately we decided to use the bricks for this project which would beautify our front yard. Since we had over 400 bricks we planned a more elaborate square box around the tree.

We drove over to get the bricks and it took two loads as they were very heavy. My back was complaining so we dumped them on the edge of our driveway to begin in a few days. Company kept us from our project but as soon as they departed we went to work. Theresa and I work together on many projects and she can do a good days work.

Tree roots were a problem and getting a square base took longer than we expected but we got a good start. We were encouraged by the neighbourhood supervision teams who commentated on every aspect. One of our neighbours  offered hostas for the required greenery and by the mid morning break we were finished with the construction. We left the cleanup until after break but were pleased with the result of our efforts. It was even suggested that it looked so good we could probably complete the task by revisiting a flower bed which by comparison looked ugly.We will leave that for another day.

I always feel good when I am busy and doing physical work. Theresa and I now have the motivation for other yard work but we have to put up new railings and install one of those comfort toilets before I come home from surgery, so the list grows and the time is short. I better get moving.

Borrowing A Wrench

Of all people who should have had a full set of wrenches and tools it was my Dad. He was a carpenter, a electrician, a mechanic and a plumber but he had a wretched collection of tools. We used to say Dad could build or fix anything with his three tools, a hand saw, an ax and a hammer.Dad would undertake projects like doing a full motor job on his truck or car knowing he did not have the proper tools.

Luckily our neighbour from across the way had every tool. As a young boy my most dreaded moment would be when Dad would ask me to go over and borrow a special wrench. Dad never did walk that few feet but he expected one of us to do this task. I cannot explain how I felt when I rapped on their door and asked for the needed tool. Maybe because I would sometimes interrupt their dinner or family time but I just hated this simple task. Maybe my brothers felt the same way.

Our neighbour never refused, showed impatience or any action that would reflect annoyance. It was all in my head. In any case I avoided when possible being around when Dad was doing mechanic work. Later in life when Dad could afford the needed tools he became the man in our neighbourhood to go to if you needed any work to be done. There was never a task too big or too small that he would not respond to in a positive manner. It kind of rubbed off on the family and all our boys are pretty good at being fixers of anything.

Today I have a garage full of every possible tool and don't need to borrow but I make it known that any of my neighbours who have need of my tools come and get it. I am over that childhood phobia about borrowing.

Swift's Social Club

Sydney Mines, Cape Breton was a coal mining town with a number of years as a steel producer as well. That is all in the past as not one coal mine is operating as we read this blog and steel producing is a distant memory. There was however, a time when Sydney Mines was a vibrant community. Divided into four wards of about equal size and with a distinct ethnic and social mix.

I lived in ward four and our house was the last one at the end of our lane named after my grandparents. Practically  every man worked in the pit or coal mine. Dad worked in one of the largest and oldest mines in Canada. Princess Colliery was a submarine mine on the north shore of Sydney harbour and reaching out for many miles under the Atlantic Ocean.

Our ward four had a community spirit and most of the people who lived there were either related, Scottish or friends. From this vantage the people formed a social club called the Swifts. I do not know the background of the name but all our sporting teams were called Swifts. The club was a loose collection of citizens who took responsibility for the development of sports facilities in the area as did the other wards. Hockey, football, baseball and a skating rink were developed and maintained by the local people without help from any level of government.

A clubhouse was also built by volunteers and was the focal point for cards, suppers and social events. As a youngster we were often entertained there on special occasions. I remember one such time when a bean supper was provided by the ladies with home made brown bread and plenty of home made pie. After supper Mr. Bennett played his guitar and soon many musical instruments appeared and there was a real hoe-down. Everyone joined in the singing and some did a step dance and you get the picture. It was right out of West Virginia.

That was the last time I remember the hall being used as it was just after WW11 and times had changed. The community had changed as well and the old Swift's Club just disappeared. My fond memories of our Dad's playing hockey and ball against the other clubs still lingers. Our arch rivals were a club from Cranberry where the Travellers played so well during the games and celebrated just as well thereafter. There was a type of healthy spirit developed in those local social clubs and because they made their own fun it was pure and not contaminated by politics, money and greed as we see in the professional ranks.

The Swift's are no more and I dare say not too many remember them very well but I shall never forget seeing my uncles and cousins taking the field and defending the honour of the ward four Swift's.

Counting The Days

Surgery is way ahead on the 30 Th but I am becoming short of time to do all the things I have to finish before that date. The garden will be perfect and all weeds killed or fatally wounded, fruit trees sprayed for the last time and grass short as possible. I started a project of enhancing a garden around a front yard tree and regret the enthusiasm I felt when I was presented with 350 free bricks.

Since I completed the old structure 10 years ago I never realized how trees love to send roots through every opening of the bricks I used originally. Each one fights to hold it's place in the ground and only an old fashioned miners pick will do the job. Slow and tedious but in the end worth while.

New railings have to be in lace for me to manage the stairs in this five level home. Lucky for me I have a son who will help. A toilet has to be replaced with a higher set one. I guess I shall feel like a king sitting on the new throne six inches higher than the old one. Actually many people are opting for the higher type so we will be right in style.

Our neighbour was kind enough to lend me her late husband's walker. A Cadillac model complete with a front basket and hand brakes. I hope to use it for only a few days but with our sidewalks in bad repair it might be a safety  concern and I appreciate the offer.

We have to keep a sense of humour with these situations and I am sure that my hospital stay and time regrouping will be a humbling experience. There are so many unanswered questions and when left to my imagination I smile to think of the ordinary functions becoming major distractions. My friend Doug recently had knee surgery and he said to make sure I buy a grabber to help me pick up essentials like socks, underwear and other items which are no problem ordinarily but are real problems when you can't bend properly.

In any case I shall try to be patient, a trait I never developed, and kind to my care givers. This will be a journey I shall remember for a long time.

Father's Day 2011.

Father's day has always been a special day for me. From the time when my youngest sat on my chest as I was awakening during those days when I worked night shift and used the weekend to charge my batteries until now when I have nothing to do but welcome family on Fathers day. In 1961 my daughter Lynda sat on my chest and welcomed Fathers day for the first time and I realize that it was special to be a father.

Today 50 years later I had that special feeling when I woke up but it was not my  child but my wonderful wife saying happy Fathers day. Fifty years seems like a long time but really it is a moment in time. I awoke at some time after 7 am and realized that I had a few commitments. My son and grandson Henry were coming down to see me. Steak on the BB was necessary and baked potatoes. My Daughter phoned and said the ball game was at 10 am and I should be there. Daughter number 2 phoned from Ottawa and said she would be phoning later.

I had to water the garden and get ready for my two granddaughters who were coming to discuss the children's books I was trying to write. They were to decipher my writings and put my thoughts in order. Everything worked out and we had a great family gathering between 12 pm and 4 pm. I had a visit from 3 of my four children and many of grand children. Fathers day was already a great day. For me who is a Softie when it comes to family had an emotional , happy day with the only people who really count, family. My friends will not mind this remark because they know they are next in line and I feel the same about them in a unfamily way.

For me Fathers day is and will always be a family day, As long as my children get in touch with me and my extended family try to contact me on this day I will be a happy father. I love my children and grandchildren so much and wish them all the success in the world and when they do well I am so happy and proud. There is a responsibility in being a Father. Unconditional love, honest advice and warm hugs and kisses. I love being a loved Father.

Proud Grandparents

Megan was always a great student. She was also artistic and learned Modern Art by painting her Aunt Lynda"s white carpet with red lipstick. Some young people naturally gravitate to school and learning and Megs was one of these people. A bright, cute little girl who had a mind of her own and a will to succeed. One of her favourite expressions was..I do it myself.

This attitude carried her all the way through school and life. Her sense of justice and what was right challenged her friends sometimes but she never backed off. I was most proud of her when she made decisions that caused her to sometimes create conflicts but she never took the easy way out. A natural athlete coming from a background of athletic parents and families brought her success in the difficult field of gymnastics and as a tiny tot she excelled. Hockey and every other sport interested her and it was always a treat to see this little bombshell on the ice taking on girls much bigger than herself.

Secondary school brought out the organized young lady and her success came with hard work and carefully set goals. Life was not all school and education as she was a member of large families on both sides and managed a busy and happy relationship with her extended families. Personally Theresa and I have been so proud of Megs because of the manner  in which she carried forth all her good traits  to university. Again she excelled and graduated with an honours degree in the four year program.

Megs social conscience placed her in the social workers network and I know she will do well in her field. I tried to will her into the education field where I know she would be a tremendous asset to any school staff. Just maybe she will end up there some time in the future.

Megs has a bright future in any field but for we who love her wish that she never looses that sparkle, zest for life and genuine concern for her family that she shows at every occasion when we get together. Some of us are aging and now bask in reflected glory of our young family members achievements. Well, Megs has done that and more and we will have much more to admire and share in the future.

Priming Tobacco

As I drive through the countryside these warm days and see the corn growing at a fast pace I think of the days when I worked in the tobacco fields. I went to summer school for more years than I wish to upgrade my qualifications  in Education.Money was in short supply and every year I would try to make some extra cash to pay for this summer ritual.

While attending Western University I would complete the six weeks school and work in the tobacco fields. One summer I never attended summer school and went to Simco to get a job. I met up with a few Maritimers and we were hired by a Hungarian tobacco farmer to prime tobacco. He asked if we were experienced and we all said yes. I never up until then saw a tobacco plant.

We were taken to the bunk house and my friends who worked there before took me out after dark and showed me what to do. It seemed easy but proved to be very difficult. Next morning at 4 am the whistle blew and we were summoned to a kiln. This kiln was where the tobacco was dried. It took seven days. Every tobacco farm had at least seven kilns. Our job was to empty the kiln before breakfast. 1350 sticks loaded with 100 hands of tobacco had to be removed carefully under the watchful eye of the field boss.

This being completed we went to the summer kitchen and feasted on the best food you could imagine and all you could eat. We were loaded on the back of a half ton and driven to the field to be picked this day. The sun was just peeking above the trees when we were instructed on the days work. This day we were working on sand leaves. The lowest leaves on the plant and the hardest to pick. The plants were dripping wet and after half a row we were totally drenched. Even though it was summer we froze.

Because I was familiar with horses I was given the horse row. The tobacco had to be picked, three leaves at a time and tucked under your arm and carefully placed in the boat. This was a narrow box on sled like runners and pulled by a horse between the rows of tobacco. Being new the boss walked along side of me and watched every move. I left a stub on one of the leaves and he reminded me that was money for the farm, Don't do that again. After two rows were completed without a word the boss left us and said we were a good crew and he would see us at lunch.

My back was sore, I was soaked and I had this horse nibbling at my back and I was supposed to be grateful to have this job. The sun got hotter and I was tempted to take off my shirt but was reminder about tobacco poisoning. I left it on and suffered. Lunch was a break but I had to feed the horse and make sure he had plenty of water. Being late for lunch was a good thing as the horse man received two dollars more and fresh , hot food. By 1.30 we were finished priming as we had our kiln filled. The rest of the crew went to lay down but I volunteered to sucker and top some acres of tobacco for extra cash.

I made $13 for the priming and $12 for the other. This was huge as this was 1958. I worked every day I was there, even Sunday and after 17 days I received $425 in cash and a $25 bonus. Steve also invited me back for the years to come . I did go back and developed a good relationship with he and his family. Summer school was easier knowing I had a job to pay for the schooling.

I often think that every time I required help in paying for my education a door was opened for me. I always walked through that door and loved every minute of the difficult, sometimes dirty jobs that I was given. I counted these interventions  as part of my education and they truly were.

Garnett

It seems like I am writing many stories about friends who have passed away during the last few years. It must be the age bracket I find myself in as the frequency of these deaths unsettle me and I get a certain relief when I put to words a few thoughts about each and every one of them. In doing so I am reminded of the joy and sometimes sorrow attached to each of these individuals and how they impacted the life of my family or self.

Garnett came into my life when I was married in 1959. Garnett and his wife Shirley became close friends and our shared time and experiences enriched our lives.We not only became close friends but close neighbours during my university days at Laurentian. We lived across the street from each other and our families blended and bonded from the very beginning. Garnett shared stories of his early life in Sudbury and how he loved school sports where he excelled in football, basketball and hockey. He probably was spoiled being one boy in a two child family.

Garnett joined the RCAF and quickly became the captain of a  Lancaster Bomber used as a Atlantic Ocean patrol plane often flying as many as 18 hours at a time to perform his duty.  He met Shirley and left the Air Force and returned to Sudbury where he worked as an INCO employee. I saw his ability and practically brain washed him so he would return to university. He and I were some of the older students and managed to graduate to make our families proud. During our college days there was more than hard work as we held full time jobs but managed to participate in the athletic programs at Laurentian. Garnett was my coach in football and even played one game but took a heavy tackle and had to stand up on the bus all the way home from London.

At this time in our lives money was always a factor. For entertainment we played bridge and Garnett was very good at teaching  the rest of us the game. Drinking was popular but A&W root beer was the beverage of choice as you could purchase a gallon for $1. We shared meals and after we bought a cottage we shared some of the happiest and most memorable summer days. It was here when we literally lived together that we as friends bonded as did our children. Throughout the years we seemed to always be there for each other. On every election day when I was in politics Garnett and Shirley would migrate from Sudbury and be with us for the happy occasion. One election they were unable to attend and I lost. He seemed to be a lucky charm.

His two children were and still are wonderful examples of Canadian Youth. Resourceful and productive, fun loving and caring would be how I would describe them and much of that came from loving and caring parents.

Over the last few years we saw very little of each other but we did communicate and when we had the opportunity it was like old times. Garnett was lost when Shirley passed away and it was some years before Carol came into his life. She added that spark that awakened within Garnett that feeling of it is great to be alive. They did so much in such a short time but it is not the time you share, but how you share the time  that is special. Garnett had a few shared years with Carol and they never wasted a moment.

Our family feels sad at Garnett's passing but we have a whole pile of memories that can bring a smile and remove the sadness and replace it with joy for having shared some of his life with us.

Air Travel

When Theresa and I decided to travel to Florida last week we decided to fly to save time and to have a few extra days in the south. Normally we drive and it 2282 km's. It takes us 23 hours to make that distance and over the years it does not vary much. Our flight from Buffalo after an overnight stay at a airport hotel took us to Boston and then to Ft Myers. The time from home to destination was 30 hours.

On our way back we arrived at the airport at 4 pm and because of bad weather in New York we never left on the first leg until 6 pm. Flying through a lightening storm was nerve racking and Theresa pulled the window blind shut to keep out the offending light show put on by Mother Nature. We landed in a downpour but were happy to be on solid ground.It did not help when we thought of the plane going down in the Hudson River.
Since we were late leaving Ft. Myers the desk crew gave us seats on a flight for Buffalo for 6.30 next morning.This would necessitate us staying in the airport all night. On arriving in New York at 9pm we saw that the next leg of our flight was delayed until 9.30pm. Theresa began to race to gate 22 from gate 8 to try to get us on board. I was carrying my computer and a carry on and was slowed down by hips that refused to move as fast as Theresa.

As Theresa disappeared through a throng of thousands I called to her to run fast and I would catch up sometime. Theresa did run fast and by the time I arrived at gate 22 she had managed to get us on the flight.That was the good news but as we rejoiced a flash on the departure board said that there was a delay until 10 pm. We lost control of our main baggage as it was transferred to the morning flight. We settled in and were quite comfortable as we had a good supply of food and drinks.

Time passed and so did the opportunity of a quick departure. First there was a plane but it was stacked out there somewhere and had to be moved to our gate. Time went by until 3.30 am when we finally got on board. That was the good news and as we left the gate 22 the captain explained in detail that all those flashing lights were from those planes ahead of us waiting for takeoff. He joyfully said we were number 40 but with luck we could be off the ground somewhere between 45 minutes and an hour. We were off the ground in less than an hour and 53 minutes later were on the ground at Buffalo.

With hope Theresa   and I searched the baggage line as the cases came tumbling down from the baggage chute.We hoped but lost when the machine stopped and all the bags were picked up. Our next challenge came when we tried to phone the hotel to send a Carrier to pick us up. Nobody answered the phone. We went outside and I spied our hotel van speeding down to the pickup area. Again Theresa had to put on her track shoes and run the 250 meters to catch the van.  I followed with my luggage and we managed to get aboard.

Our plan was to stay in our car until the flight from New York arrived at 8.08 am.We went into the hotel lobby as the workers were preparing breakfast for those who were departing. We got in line and had a coffee and went to our vehicle and left for the airport. We were very tired and rather desperate with  the problem of what if our luggage does not arrive on this flight. Luckily our cases arrived and the baggage man gave us a chit for $70 for our inconvenience.

We drove home and arrived at 11 am. Total time for our travelling experience was 20 hours. It should have been 6 at the most. I like to fly but this experience reminds me it is always better to have two feet on the ground or at least one foot on the pedal when you wish to arrive on time.

Shameful Bragging

We  just arrived home from Florida after a few days at our winter home.We were being cautious about the security of our home as we left in a hurry and maybe less attentive than usual. Everything was in order so our journey became a holiday. Every day the weather was perfect if you call over 100 degrees acceptable. We were in the pool many times and with the humidity being OK we had a wonderful week.

While there I was talking to one of my golf partners and decide to play one game. Without my regular clubs and equipment I gathered up some irons which I kept from bygone days. I had no woods so I borrowed a driver from the club where I played during the winter. No glove or golf shoes made my chances of having a good day was slim. Jokes were made about my clubs as I had 10 clubs but three of them were 5 irons. I just grabbed any left club and was off. The jokes ended on the first hole as I had a good drive and chip and ended up with a boogie.

We play greenies where the person who gets closest to the pin on par three's and pars the hole gets a dollar from all the players. If you win all the greenies you are rich as you come away with $12. In regular play I won a few of these and won some money with the regular game. My score to win had to be 12 points. This day I collected 21 points and nine tenths of the pot. My share was $36 and was the best I ever did. I was plus 9 and with that score it became my best recorded score for all time. I ended up with 7 pars and a birdie with a gross score of 83. My best score up to that time was 89.

Since this will probably be my last game for at least a year I suppose I can say it will be the best game for my life. I will have my back operation on the 30 of June. This will put golf away for a long time and maybe forever. To have this last game in my mind will we reassuring and I am sure the score and descriptions of this event will get better with age. I kept the card and the cash and hope to invest it in my next game sometime in the future. Forgive the bragging as it was one of the only times I had anything to report in a positive way about my golf game. For me every day of playing golf is great...even when you don't keep score.

Government Accounting

The world is concerned about global warming and climate change. The United Nations has set up a system whereby every country is to account for their contributions of pollution on a yearly basis. Our industries are to provide diligent statistics and they have. Our government for some reason provided their yearly report at the last minute, actually after countries like Libya  and Japan and emitted the statistics regarding the Tar Sands.

This is one of the worlds greatest polluters and to have these facts not reported makes our country looking like a cheater on the world's stage. Could the fact that these statistics would have made us looking poorly because we have not met our goal of reducing gases and in fact would have shown us to be polluting even more as our output in the Alberta tar sands has increased.

I also am sure that there is great concern from the oil barons who are gathering huge amounts of wealth from Canadian resources which belong to all Canadians. There is something strange about the relationship among the Alberta, world and Canadian oil policies makers who are turning a blind eye to this tragic situation. In years to come after oil is not the energy which we will need that area of the country will be left with a polluted wasteland. There is time to correct or at least  modify the process of extracting oil from tar sand. It would be more costly but at $100 a barrel the industry could well afford to pay the price.