My Friend Arlyss

Arlyss  began life on a small farm in Eastern Ontario. Eighty acres was a small farm but his Mom and Dad managed to make a living and raise two children. It could be said that all that is really genuine about Arlyss was gleaned through his connection with the land. He grew up and became a educator and served his students well.

I first met Arlyss when I applied for the position of Supervising Principal in Pembroke in 1966. He was the first person who engaged me in a conversation after I was hired and with a handshake we became friends. He was easy to like and during the years after I rarely heard a negative word pass his lips. He was a small person in stature but strong as any person I knew for his size.He wore a smile which often hid some of the hurt he felt from criticism and gossip.

Arlyss grew on my family and very soon he became a regular at our table and on frequent trips. I relied on my friend to gain the mood of the community and he was rarely wrong. I had a turbulent beginning with my career in Pembroke as the city was not ready for the changes I had in mind. Many times he came to my defence with staff and people in the community over issues. This honest example of loyalty became more apparent as our friendship grew.

The number of occasions when Arlyss appeared from nowhere to rescue the day with his help in providing beautiful food as only he could do were too numerous to name. Our family expected him to be at all our family gatherings and he became a true and significant member in our decision making. We valued his judgment and when I entered politics he was right there by my side. Many people questioned our relationship because we were quite different and lived life styles which seemed to be incompatible. He was there when we travelled to Cape Breton and Wales, and it seemed that whenever something was happening in our family he contributed to the occasion.

In Pembroke there was an elite club called the Friday night club and was held every week after work at Arlyss' home. This was a loosely organized group and when I came to Pembroke I saw the people entering his house every week. I was feeling that I was missing something and asked why I was not invited. He said that I might feel out of place with the group. I assured him I would be OK and the next Friday I attended . I never missed another Friday gathering as I loved the close relationship I  developed during these get togethers. The close group of Arlyss, Winston, John, Doug and myself still are close  and the group was larger but we were special.

Arlyss and I had a unique relationship. I trusted him without a doubt and shared secrets and information  that was very personal and sometimes vital to my position in the community. He never betrayed my trust. He stood beside me through the good and the bad and never let me down. He was a true friend and after I left Pembroke we remained close.

Arlyss visited us for years and always brought a joyful presence  every time he came. He shared some inner thoughts that showed  some inner turmoil  pestered him through his life but he never let it interfere with his relationship with our family. Arlyss loved my children and at all occasions he held them in high regard. Our children in return always thought of Mr. Young as one of them.

When I received the news that Arlyss had passed away I was shaken because I knew I had lost one of my really   genuine  friends. I talked to him about eight days before and he did not sound right. He did not want to engage me in a conversation and he was distracted. I knew something was not right and told Theresa so. I was upset but knew he would be OK. He always was. But this time he was not. I lost a great friend and was proud to walk with him through our 45 years of sharing friendship and considered him a really good person. He will always be part of my life and I will cherish his memory.

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.

Frank, The Polish Prince

Frank is our neighbour and lives across the street from us. Sunday morning he passed away after a lengthy battle with several health issues. I knew Frank for 12 years and interacted with him on many levels. We both like to garden and keep our homes well managed and you could see Frank every day trimming his lawn or helping his neighbours do the same. We often crossed the street in the morning to discuss the sports events from the day before. Frank loved the Yankees and followed every game. He was a small man physically but played semi pro baseball and earned his spot on the team as a catcher. Look at his hands and you saw hands that betrayed the arthritis as he said nearly every finger was broken at one time or another while playing baseball.

Frank was a collector of memorabilia and had a collection of baseball uniforms, pictures, bats and autographed balls which amazed my grandson who was invited by Frank to watch he and I engage in our friendly snooker games. He was good at that as well and always smiled in a knowing way when he won the best out of three. I knew he played golf and invited him to come and spare with my group who played every Tuesday. He came and conquered. He won the money on a regular basis, so often I used to accuse him of not knowing how to count. At one time he was a scratch golfer.

The Polish Prince loved his wife Renee, his dog Molly and his parrot, Mr. Beeks. This was a small family but he extended it to include his long time neighbour Grace who knew him better that most of us. He sometimes came across as gruff and tough but we all knew that was a veneer to cover up his soft spots. He had a cache of dog biscuits at his driveway and every dog knew it and stopped for a treat, He used to tell me of the gifts he bought for special occasions for his kids at the crossing of the school he guarded daily. He was tough there protecting his kids but loved the job and loved his kids.His kids loved him and showed it at Christmas when they filled his car with gifts to show thanks for a job well done.

Frank will be missed by his wife Renee who watched over him so faithfully during his battles with health issues. He will be missed by the folks who live on Falgarwood as he was a good man and neighbour. He will be missed by me because he was my friend.

Craftsmanship

As a young boy I was happy to make things out of wood using an ax, handsaw, hammer and a spoke shave. A coping saw came later and I used it when I had blades. My efforts were pretty crude but I continued until in my middle age when I graduated to rocking chairs, benches and boxes and large wood objects. These items never reached the point where they displayed a title of craftsmanship.

A few days ago one of our friends came to stay overnight and during his visit he displayed about a dozen cheese boards. After we admired and commented about the quality of the product Don offered Theresa the opportunity to pick one out for us. Theresa had a difficult time in choosing because all were so beautiful and so well crafted. Finally she picked one out and we will treasure it and use it to highlight our table when we have guests.

Don gave instructions for the upkeep of the wooden board and left a note to identify the woods used in the production. Our board is made of Lyptus, Maple, Mahogany and Birds Eye Maple.

I admire people who are able to create a piece of art from nature's bounty. We collected many treasures over the years and this one is special.

Old Friend-Computer Friend

Theresa and I have friends who keep in touch via the computer network. There was one who never took the plunge to get involved and she missed out. Her hubby John was playing with the electronic magic of the computer for years but never engaged his wife. After some motivating from Theresa she dove into the fray and purchased a computer.

We always say that the computer opens up windows to the world. Life is so much better because of the freedom we get from the knowledge contained on the net. This friend will have an opportunity to enjoy what so many of we computer people have been enjoying for years. So welcome Doreen and have fun, don't get frustrated with the mechanics and explore, explore and explore again.

I am sure your hubby will help you get started but after that fly on your own and discover the JOY of surfing. WELCOME.

One by One

It seems that when you hear of death of a friend the event becomes not one but several. Last week my close and long time friend"s mother passed away at age 98. Last eve I received a call telling me of another grand old lady from the Valley passing away. She was 101 years old. Her daughter was concerned about her and expressed that feeling when I talked to her at the last funeral.

This lady was one of a kind and possessed that joy of living until the end. She was an independent woman and toiled all her life as a farmers wife and partner. She had a sparkle in her eye and a great sense of humour. One time I was buying meat hens from her. I used to buy ten at a time and they were large. As a joke I told her that if she couldn't grow them any larger I would have to buy them from one of her friends, Mrs. M. She did not say a word as I ordered ten more for the next year. I received her call next fall to say my chickens were ready. That Saturday morning I arrived at her house to pick up my chickens but something was different. We talked a little and I had a short conversation with her husband about politics and then the master stroke.

With a grin she said to get the box of chickens. This time there were three boxes and the total weight was one hundred and thirty five pounds. "Are they large enough?" she grinned. Well, they were the largest chickens I ever saw. I can grow them larger if you wish she said with an impish smile. She had fun with that and I never tried to get ahead of her as she was sharp as a tack.

Politics, business and family was important to her. When Pembroke celebrated its sesquicentennial I requested that she make a quilt for me as a token of remembrance. She and other Micksburg ladies made me the most beautiful quilt depicting the history and culture of our little city. There are many reasons to remember this fine person and she will be missed for sure. She left a legacy of service to her community and it is being continued by her daughter who has some of that same Valley spirit and come to think of it has that same twinkle in her eye to remind you to be on yours toes when dealing with her.

Losing these wonderful citizens is painful but seeing them replaced by their own gives us confidence that her spirit lives on.

Grand Old Lady

This week on of my long time friend had a sad moment as his mother passed away at the age of 98. She was small in stature and showed the character she possessed on her face. A simple farm wife who toiled on a small farm with her husband and raised two children. She was without complaint and even after her husband passed away she helped raise other peoples children bonding with them and was accepted as one of the family. She travelled far and wide and blended in the social fabric with grace and dignity.

On her visits to Pembroke she endeared herself to everyone she met and had a way with words expressing herself simply but with that soft smile captured your attention. Arlyss was a devoted son and drove the several hour journey to see her every two weeks and more often if necessary. It is at times like this that we come to grips with our own life and realize how valuable time really is. Arlyss' mom lived her 98 years in a manner that could be considered full and her devotion to her family and community was what makes rural Canada so important. She was a good woman in every sense and will be missed by those who knew her.

Theresa and I will be travelling over to the celebration of her life on Wednesday and will bring support to our friend Arlyss during his time of mourning.

Ma Bell

Last eve I was in a frame of mind to get in touch with some of my old friends in the Valley. I try to keep in touch with special people often enough to remind them that I still cherish their friendship. I communicate by phone as often as I can and have a list to make sure that I do my duty and pick up the phone. It seems a one way street as many of my friends never call me so I keep the door open and derive comfort from conversing with them.

While talking to the wife of one of very best friends last evening she mentioned that her daughter reads my blog. That thought triggered my memory and I realized that one of the personal rewards of communicating is the re-awakening of fond moments of the past and this enriches our life.

That thought in mind gave me the opportunity of remembering this little red head and her bundle of energy as she burst through our back door yelling for my two daughters. She also had a fun time with my younger son. Miss L was one of these kids that was a perfect example of both parents. Her impish behaviour was like her dad and her cool control was like her mom. She was like a family member and travelled with us on occasion and fitted in very well. I always liked red hair and called her Little Red and her mom Big Red. I do not think Big Red appreciated the nickname but she got it anyway.

Every year about this time the kids would climb up on our garage roof and get a head start on their summer tan. Their time there with conversations and laughter made me smile because I did a similar thing when ,I was a young boy. Little Red became a teacher and a good one I am sure but her best gift will be to her children who will benefit from her being a good parent.

One of the things I am thankful for in life is the fact that my children had wonderful friends. If your children hang out with good kids there is a strong feeling that they will do well. Little Red was one of those kids and I am thankful for knowing her and her family.

Making a List

This morning I was to complete a few tasks around the house and I did so rather to quickly as the new list is even bigger. Every year before returning to Ontario Theresa and I make a complete (almost as we always forget something) list of tasks to do. This list is our wish plan for the time we leave until we return.

There are many events for us to attend to as 2010 marks the anniversary of special occasions from the past. One such event is the 55th year since graduation from teachers college and there is a special celebration planned. Our wedding anniversary is in there somewhere and my daughter and granddaughter are going to Africa to help build a school. This will be the second such mission for our granddaughter and this time she is taking mommy along to take pictures and look after things.

We want to get to the Maritimes to see family and friends and there are a few weddings we wish to try to attend. Along with golf, gardening and writing there is not too much down time. By planning we are able to enjoy the thrill of anticipation. Theresa is the detail planner and keeps good records so we don't miss too many important items.

Before we leave our checklist is growing and there is the usual panic before the calm. We always seem to have a day of rest as everything is packed beforehand so we leave early. This Friday is the panic day but come tomorrow all will be well.

I don't do this often but I would like to share a happy moment. Friends of forty years phoned me last evening and expressed joy from the engagement of their only daughter. I have seen these friends in many situations, but I have never witnessed happier parents than these two people with the joyous news. In life there are a few special occasions and I was part of one as they shared their joy with me.

There is something to be learned here... share your joy and make the world a happier place in which to live. Thank you Don and Susan.

My Friend Doug

Doug is a common enough name but if you add friend to it, it takes on a new meaning. I have known this man for 44 years and our relationship has passed the test of time. We don't see each other very often but when we do we carry on the conversation left unsaid from the time before.

We have mutual interests in family, the environment, gardening and the Detroit Red Wings. We differ politically but Doug is younger so he has a few years to become a little more Liberal as he catches up to me.

Doug is a caregiver and I admire him for the manner in which he has accepted his responsibility as a husband and best friend to Patty. I would rather see him recognized for his dedication than most who receive rewards as a hero. Doug still has time to play hockey three times a week, look after several hundred trees he has selected and cares for and tries to catch fish on the beautiful Madawaska River.

Doug had a mishap this week and has taken himself out of the role as caregiver to a receiver of the same. A serious leg injury requiring surgery will keep him off his feet for a number of weeks. Right at gardening time and spring cleanup. He never complains about the role he plays nor the hand he is dealt and this setback will add another challenge to his agenda. He will have more time to watch the Wings make their way through the playoffs and keep an eye on his beautiful plot of land as it grows without his help for a while.

Patty will keep him in line to make sure he does all his physiotherapy , even though it is painful. I expect to see Doug up and around by the time I get home in May and have a visit. We will not have to worry about counting our golf scores as that is not on our agenda this summer.

Enough said Doug. Enjoy your down time and let other people help you for a change, you deserve it.

The Hunt

Morning came with the sound of boiling water and a “good morning” from my friend. He was dressed and ready to go. We ate more bannock and more tea. We stuffed some dried meat in a pack sack and got our gear in order. Field glasses were used but at this time of year days are short and they had limited results. We left our camp hoping no wolves or bears were in the area who wished a meal of our food. The only animals we saw were Arctic hare and foxes. A couple of muskoxen were pawing at the tundra trying to uncover some tender morsels of Arctic Willow for breakfast.

We left camp and approached a rise. Ikey motioned me to get close to the ground as he spotted something. Sure enough there were a dozen caribou walking slowly towards the shoreline. There was a clear pathway tramped down by the numerous hoof prints of passing caribou. Their nostrils belched steam as if they had been chased for a while. I key pointed out the culprit which was a lone Arctic Wolf looking for a meal. We also saw that he was using only three legs. An accident perhaps or a old wound but surely something that separated him from the pack.

I was experiencing the time of my life and the coldness that was pressing on me in my immobile position was a small nuisance. Ikey looked the situation over and decided to let these animals get to the ice and safety. Caribou that have been run have a bitter taste and this was not what we came for. Ikey did claim the wolf with a clean shot. On examination the wolf had been in a trap and would not have been able to survive the winter. The animal was skinned in minutes and he showed me how and why it was done that way. He also showed me the proper way to fold the hide to keep its value at the auction.

We travelled slowly in land to a flat area which appeared to be covered by thousands of caribou but actually I counted about a hundred. Eight herds of female caribou with a dominant male were moving in our direction. We dismounted our ATV and moved to a spot behind some large rocks and waited. I had 6 tags and of course Ikey did not need tags. We planned to wait until the animals were passing and to avoid shooting the dominant herd leader.

It was over in minutes and I had 4 and Ikey 7 prime animals. My next lesson was cleaning and skinning the animals. I had experience with deer and moose but caribou were so easy. We had a clean patch of snow on which to take care of the meat. We kept everything - hearts, liver and Ikey used more. We quartered the animals and wrapped them in the hides. This meat would be shared with the elders and other needy people in the hamlet.

We went back to get our sleds and when we returned the foxes were already having a feast of the leftovers. The spiritual bird of the Inuit, the raven was in numbers as well. Nothing was lost or wasted. This was the way of the Inuit for centuries and I was privileged to take part. I repeated this harvest every year I was in the Arctic.

When we began to gather the animals, Ikey stopped me until he took snow and put it in his mouth, and then in the mouth of the nearest caribou. He said thanks to the spirits for the food they had provided to his family; very spiritual and meaningful in the context of the moment. He repeated this with each of the animals. He invited me to do the same for my bounty and I did, but the spirituality was not there at that time. As other occasions befell me I became more in tune with nature and the opportunity to experience the circle of life up there in the High Arctic.

We stayed overnight and cooked the hearts and liver - at least some of them - and talked of the hunt, how good life was, and our thoughts of sharing the meat and the stories of the Caribou Hunt. I am ever grateful for the time and experiences I had up there and with my friend Ikey.

The Race To The Crossing

Friday seemed to have 48 hours as work dragged on and Ikey and I looked at the clock. Since I was the boss I had to show a good example about keeping proper hours. This was a real problem up there during hunting and fishing season. At 2.30 pm I motioned to Ikey to leave and I left one of the girls in charge of the phone. We raced home and changed and prepared to meet at the road to the airport. I never realized how cold it was with the 30 km wind.I gave Buck enough muskoxen bones for three days and left with Buck jumping against the chain as he wanted to come.

The wind picked up as I met Ikey at the arranged place and with few words he said we were going to the crossing. This was a favourite hunting place as it was the jumping off point for the caribou heading to the mainland across the North West Passage. It was 60+ miles away and we planned to travel on the new ice. Winds that swept through our area during the ice freezing time caused large pressure ridges to form. Few of these ridges could be crossed and detours were required to make progress.

Without another word Ikey sped off and I tried to follow. He quickly left me in snow dust and I had a fear that I would never be able to keep up. He had skills way beyond mine and pulling a kamatuk with with over a 1000lbs was difficult and dangerous. I was getting the hang of it when I saw Ikey stopped ahead. I pulled up and learned a lesson I never forgot. Never, never step off your snow machine until your sled is stopped. The momentum of the sled carried it past my snow machine when I stopped because it does not have brakes. Many people suffered broken from this lack of knowledge.

After Ikey gave me a stern warning he advised me that we were going inland as progress was too slow on the ice. Some bare stony land had to be traversed and he told me to keep going at all cost because if you stopped on bare ground the snow machine could not pull the sled. Stopping was to be made on a downward slope on snow. I followed again with the increased tension of another challenge. We made progress and the sparks literally flew when we crossed a stoney section about a half mile long.

After what seemed like forever we stopped at a rise in the land and prepared to set up camp. Actually it took nearly 5 hours to travel that distance which I covered in the summer by atv in 3 hrs.

Making camp in the Arctic was a skill developed over centuries by the Inuit. Ikey gave short orders and our White tent was up. Snow was packed on the windward side and a tarp was thrown over the tent. First rule was to work but not sweat. Sweating can cause severe chills when you stop and could have more serious repercussions. The primer stove was set up first and snow thawed for tea. Meanwhile the hides were placed on the floor and sleeping bags unfolded to warm up.Snow machines covered and sleds secured next to the tent for easy retrieval of supplies. It took 30 minutes to make camp.

Our guns were taken inside and cleaned again making sure the barrel was plugged with a wick to stop any buildup of ice or snow. Can goods are useless in the arctic as they freeze.Only can jam is used and our diet was mipku (dried meat and bannock and tea). We talked for a while and Ikey started up his short wave radio to talk to some other hunters to get info on the location of the caribou. He spoke in Inuinaktun, a dialect used by the local Inuit, and as he spoke I knew he had good news and I also he told his friend he had a white novice with him and he laughed with his friends about this matter.

Ikey actually gave me my Inuit name which was elenok meaning friend. We talked for a bit and all of a sudden I heard him snore. He was asleep. A big day ahead.

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.

Home Again

Arriving at my door after 10 hours of driving gave me a that satisfying feeling of being home again. Thoughts of sleeping in my own bed and being around familiar creature comforts like my big leather chair quickly changed to near panic as I saw the condition of my yard. Grass overgrown, tomatoes ready to be picked and made into spaghetti sauce, peaches clinging to the tree but really ripe, and weeds which went unchecked for a while boldly stood as high and straight as the beets and carrots.

It was supper time so we managed to put together a sandwich made from fresh bread and just picked tomatoes. My daughter always stocks up necessary items like milk, bread and cheese and she did not fail one more time. We lingered over the small lunch and put off doing anything else except unpacking and a quick assessment of tomorrow's work.

Our longer than usual trip down home satisfied our need to connect with family and friends but left us drained emotionally. We did all we set out to do and more so were happy to be home. During our expedition we attended a teachers reunion, discovered the Gaspe, buried a brother, enjoyed a family get together, visited a long-time friend in Pictou and gathered up our mother in law at Sussex and drive home.

Today I picked tomatoes, beans, cut the lawn and caught up on the 135 emails. There really was no need to panic at the work as a few hours and our place looked great. It is like life - there seems to be large issues to face but when you get to the solution, you realize that the issue was mostly in our own minds. Face issues head on and see how quickly they disappear and the solution usually opens doors to free you of your anxiety.

Today I am privileged to have such a rewarding support group of relatives, family and friends. Each has a special role in my life and I value each for their uniqueness and ability to add something to my overall well being. I pity the person who has no family, no real friend nor special one to complete their life.

Friendly Golf

Today I played golf with friends for the last time this month. I drove with Jerry who is over eighty but has a professional swing except for the distance. We used a cart today but we had to use the 90% rule we may as well have walked. Our group is called the Oakville Old Masters but they could change the last part of the name to Bastards as we often act that way.

We are grumpy and complain about nearly everything but always turn up the next week for more of the same. Two dollars are contributed each for the best score and with handicaps ranging from 17 to 36 anyone can be a winner. First prize is $16 and when you win it seems like $100 because of the bragging rights.

If you listen to the chatter around the table you get a good overview of what it is like to get old. Every physical condition is described in detail and nearly everyone has at least one to contribute. One of my friends has every imaginable condition but he still comes out to play. I think it is popular to have something wrong to report.

For the most part we are a good bunch and genuinely like each other and I am sure if any real mishap were to occur they would be right there to lend their support. I am not a good golf player but I feel at home with our old foggies and their stories. By the way some of us are pretty good, today Dennis shot a 79. Not bad, eh? When talking to the wives of our group they strongly support the Tuesday outing. I am convinced it to get us out of their way for a few hours. So here is to the game of golf and the people who play it for whatever reason. See you on Tuesday.

Monday Without a Real Blog

With the weekend behind us we are heading for a very busy couple of weeks with visitors coming from all sides. We normally have a few people calling in during the summer but between now and the end of August we will have relatives and friends from both coasts and here as well. We look forward to these visits and welcome the opportunity to show good Oakville hospitality.

Letters and emails are good, and telephone calls are better - but seeing the real thing beats all. Our family and friends are spread all over the country and visits are less frequent than we would like. This year we are making our pilgrimage to the East Coast and will visit many friends and relatives.Theresa's mother will accompany us and visit her brother in Sussex, New Brunswick. She is a good traveller for a 92 year old and watches out the window the whole time. She doesn't sleep as long as I do - and I am driving!

As we get older we treasure our friends even more, probably because there are less of them and the ones still around us are more precious. This may seem morbid but really, it is the way it is.
When you have a visit from someone, even some who are less dear, savour the time that elapses and enjoy the value of the time spent. I have to remember that maybe we are the ones that make the visitors feel good and they leave better than they came.

We place great emphasis on friendship and treasure our friends, as they enrich our lives. Life would be a sad place without having a real friend to communicate our most deep thoughts without worrying about a breach of faith. I have a few friends ... how about you?????

PNC Reunion

I received my letter today from a friend known as the Duck. He is one of the organizers of the annual Teachers College reunion. We are the class of 1954-1955. Nova Scotia used to train their teachers in a educational institution called Normal School. It was anything but normal as the leaders of that school had the responsibility for turning out qualified teachers in one year . Their students were grade eleven and twelve youngsters , wide eyed and as green as the grass they played on only months before.

Truro was the home of this establishment and I was one of these green ones only I was brown.We as students were serious about our calling and strive to do our best. One thing we did well was bond as a group. So much so that we still get together every year and celebrate our friendship and remember the ones who did not make it back this year.

After 55 years we still look forward to see if Eric looks as young as last year or Bunkey has learned a new song to entertains us or to see which of the ladies has new grandchildren. There is always lots to talk about. Eric and the Duck live in Truro and lived most of their life there so they are called upon to be the hosts. There are more and all add to the most successful reunion I have heard of in my travels. The amazing thing about this group is the way it embraces new members. New spouses or friends are welcomed and become part of the group immediately.
Theresa and I do not attend every year as we have further to travel but it is worth it when we do attend .We are looking forward to the trip this year as we co-ordinate it with a visit with my family in Cape Breton and Theresa with hers in New Brunswick.

Our beloved PNC has been closed for years but whatever happened back in those days to unite us as a group of old retired teachers was somewhat magical and I hope it continues until we get together many more years.

Valley Visit

Monday morning at 10 am Theresa and I tumbled into our travelling van amid golf clubs, food for a supper, some wine and a whole lot of looking forward to We leave Doris in control of our garden and home. She will do well as she has plenty of experience. As we scoot along the 401 we realize that the real Ontario lies somewhere north of there so we grabbed the next exit and arrive in a new world.

Acres of rich green farmland framed by tall trees meet us at every turn. The old farmhouses and board barns bring you back to our roots. Our roots are in the soil and in the farming business at the family level. We see chickens scratching in the ground around the barns and houses as free as a bird if you excuse the pun. It is another world and I like it. We manage to get to a turnoff at highway 7 which has the name of Balderson cheese factory. One of our friends Joan got us interested in this cheese for its fine quality so we turned and drove the 7 kms.

We bought some for each of our friends and some for ourselves. It felt good to share. We managed to get partially lost on some back concession lines but with the help of a truck driver with a cargo of horses , arrived at Flat Rapids on the MADAWASKA RIVER . Pat and Doug have been friends for over forty years and it feels good to be together again. We hardly arrive when we are herded to a new boat my friend bought to accommodate his family. For two hours we are transfixed by the scenery with majestic pines and craggy rock formations bordering the spectacular river. Here we do not hear traffic or noise but only the sound of loons and song birds.

These visits are not not reunions but part of a continuum because we feel together even when we are apart. We stay up to midnight and never run out of topics to talk about but morning will come early and we do have a golf match to settle who will have bragging rights until the rematch in September.

The game of golf was secondary to the fun we had with the stories and lies told. There was a climatic ending with a chip from about 80 feet which settled the game but not the controversy as the loser tried to say I hit the wrong ball. It was fun.

Our next stop was Pembroke where Theresa realized she needed a new belt so we shopped at the local Wall mart called Giant Tiger. There I ran into my close friend June. Theresa caught us kissing but was not annoyed when she saw who it was. In the middle of the sale section in ladies wear we carried on a lively and animated talk for a long time. We found a belt and moved on to our next visit on Melton street. Here we ate goodies and drank cool drinks until supper which was excellent. Joan always sets a great table and her cooking style gave us true Valley cuisine. Baked salmon and all the trimmings led us to the next session of hand and foot.

This is a game of cards which challenges reason and makes women and men challenge the other to become champs at this game. This time we allowed the women to win because it was their turn. Actually we were defeated and graciously congratulated the winners.

Next day we moved on to Petawawa where we had a great visit with my sister. Several hours of laughter and sharing of stories was ended too soon but we had to return to the lady who held fort in our home. That was Doris and she is in her ninety second year. We have to rest up for next year.

Valley Boys

Every year Theresa and I manage to go to the valley to see some of our friends. It is about a five hour drive to reach Arnprior where my friend Doug and his wife Patty live. Doug built a beautiful home for Pat on the banks of the Madawaska River.Their home is lovely in every sense, but the estate is what catches my eye.

Every visit, Doug and I walk the grounds and Doug points out the new acquisitions and changes he made in the garden of trees and flowers. We manage to play a little golf and catch up on who died and who did what to whom. You see, valley boys have a language all their own and express themselves in a unique way. It is quaint and people from the outside marvel at the expressions developed over the years (g'day). There is actually a dictionary for those who really want to talk like the boys from the Valley.

It is a charming place to live and during my 30 odd years living there I managed to escape pretty much intact. Our children were nurtured in that environment and turned out very well and still call Pembroke and the valley home. My friend John had the good fortune to be born in Eganville and still thinks it is the centre of the universe but so do many others from that area.

As we drive over there today, I will be thinking of the many happy events that entered my life and enriched it in so many ways. The events aside, the best memories I have are of the people who live there, and the impact they had and still have on my life. I cannot imagine a year passing without a visit to the Ottawa Valley. So here is to the Valley and the people who call it home. I guess I am one of those - kind of.

Building a Pegola with a Friend

What is a pegola? I didn't know until my wife placed a picture on the kitchen table and told me that is what she wanted on our patio. In the picture I saw a beautiful structure surrounded by professional landscaping making a perfect scene right out of homes and gardens.

I studied the picture and quickly became excited for the prospect of a project such as it was. I got out my sketch book and drafted a plan and listed what I should need in materials. I was satisfied that I could build the thing but how much better it would be if I could coax my son to help. He is always there when I need him for big jobs. He is strong and can see ways of improving my thinking in a way as to not rattle my ego and to make me think it was my idea anywhere.

I asked my wife if she would like to come to Home Depot to price the project and see if all the materials were in stock. She declined the offer and told me I needed time alone so get on with it. I love shopping in hardware stores where I can handle the good tools and dream of owning them come Fathers Day.

After a half hour I had the list priced and was amazed that the price came close to that which I quoted Theresa earlier in the day. Under $400 for a pegola 12 by 14 feet. The one at the store was 10 by 10 and cost nearly a $1000. Wow - I was saving $600. I never think of the labor cost or the volunteer help.

After the phone call to my friend, my son, we planned to get started next morning when he was off work and would complete the task in a day and a half. I was responsible for getting the materials to the sight and I made two trips with my van and loaded it to the roof. The hardest part was getting good product. I needed 6 by 6 timbers and went through two piles to get good ones. When I finished it looked like a disaster in the store. Getting 2 by 8s and 2 by 6s was even more difficult.

My son and I work almost without communicating about the task. We seem to know how to work together; sharing the different skill jobs and working at a fast pace we erect the timbers. My son does the measuring and I do the cutting. We do make mistakes but these mistakes become plan B and we move on.

All through the day we move from one stage to another. We plan to cook supper on the barbecue but we have lost the sense of time. It is seven pm when we finally take a rest.We were so engrossed that time did not matter. My son realized that we have practically completed the job except for a few small items.

We kind of laugh and start to prepare our steak and potatoes remembering the past when we did the same thing on another project. I lose all track of time when working on a labour of love. On this day the labour of love was being united with my son for a whole day by myself. We ate heartily and talked of the work completed and how we could have made changes for the better but we were satisfied. The next morning after a long breakfast we finished the unfinished and called Theresa for a final inspection. Her smile told us we did well and we were satisfied.

My son was off home in the early afternoon and we made plans for our next project, laying a hardwood floor in my granddaughter's condo. I hope the projects never end so I might call on my friend to spend a little time alone with his father.