Excursion

Mother was here for a short visit over Christmas, we took these pictures on the drive back on Xmas day. We thought the skies would make good pictures. At times ominous, but with more storm clouds on the horizon. (clickable thumbnails.)









C'ya

Downloads & Upgrades

A few weeks ago Elizabeth had her cardiolite stress test. Last week while talking to her mother, she learned that her mom is going for the same test in a couple of weeks time.

A couple of days ago we ran the truck in for an oil change and usual checks.

Tonight while waiting for supper, mom was on my mind. It occurred to me that I wasn’t aware that she had any heart problems, even at 82 years of age. So why the test?

I’ve never been a doctor, a mechanic, or somebody in the field of education. What I have been, is someone from the old school. I completed my schooling at 14 years of age. That is what the norm was when I was young, unless you were fortunate enough to further your schooling in college, or some such educational institution.

What has all this got to do with mom and her test you might ask? Well, I have been one of those people who always marvel at the human body. Nobody needs to tell you what a complex piece of equipment we are, you and I.

Just think of all the component parts that collectively make us tick. When something is not quite right the body lets us know in a hurry and off to the doctor we go, for a systems check up.

I often compare the human body to the automobile. That too has all its component flowing parts, the oil, coolant and electrical systems. The vehicle complete with the engine and other minor parts works very much like its human counterpart. It also lets you know when something is not right, just check your mechanic’s bills for proof of that.

Oft times when I get into a conversation about somebody’s illness or symptoms of a problem, that’s when I start making the comparisons, sort of a form of an analogy. I am surprised sometimes how accurate it turns out.

So getting back to mother, I do know she has had some bodily ailments, so possibly this is what has lead to the diagnostic test, not that it is the heart directly. However whatever effects the organs of the body, will surely reflect on the heart, so it all makes sense.

C’ya

Zap Bang Wallop

Crack! Boom!

“That’s it!” Elizabeth exclaimed and heads for the closet. “What are you doing?” I ask. “Putting on my sandals. I hate thunderstorms.” I look at her feet, “And the sandals will protect you?” “Yes, the rubber soles could save my life. You should put yours on.” Well no, a doubtful expression on my face.

I realize Elizabeth has had more than her fair share of close climate encounters and once lived in a place that was hit several times by lightning. I feel we are pretty safe here though.
She’s eyeing the maple tree outside. I know the bathroom and kitchen are off limits for now. Sigh.

“You know that’s a myth, about the rubber soles?”

“Yes, my sandals will not prevent me from being hit by lightning. But, years ago a neighbor of mine was struck. The lightning came through the kitchen sink faucet from the lake and he had his hand on the counter. It shot up his arm, down his whole body to his running shoe. Huge scar.
The hospital said the rubber sole shoe saved him. Probably sleeps in them now. So, myth or not, these sandals give me comfort and I’m not taking any chances. You shouldn’t either. Damn! I hate thunderstorms.”

(At least she is in an awareness state of mind because of her belief I thought.)

***

Elizabeth was beginning to remind me of my Mom. When I was young we used to have a small add on to the kitchen in the old house. Often we would put our bikes in there, especially if it was storming. When the thunder and lightning came, my mother would run out and put towels over the handle bars. I’m convinced she thought she was hiding the metal from nature and the storm.

I watch my wife as she changes the placemats on the dining room table. “Are those the non-conductive mats, Honey?” Big smiles right across my face!

Uh oh, Makes a beeline for the door!

C’ya

Update

Just a quickie. The move is almost on us with just eleven days to go ~ so far so good, things are looking very bright from where we sit right now.

A couple of weeks ago it was Moms birthday, 82 years young, she's still man hunting! ~ I penned a few words to celebrate the occasion.
**
Mom!

Some say their Mom is the worlds best,
Even better than all the rest.
But that’s not true for as you see
You’re the tops in our house,
Shush! don’t tell, ~ you’re privy
For that‘s between, just you and me.

Eric Valentine Mar 27/08 ©

Overload

Recently my health has taken a bit of a plunge as I went through a rough period. When things like this happen it always makes things more difficult for Elizabeth. With so much ongoing with neighbors, at times our patience wears a bit thin. It’s easy to get down in the dumps over minor setbacks.

As if things weren’t tough enough, a week ago Elizabeth, who has an existing heart condition, had an attack of arrhythmia which put her into the hospital. I even had to get a friend to drive her in for I was having trouble breathing, and couldn’t get ready fast enough. The last time this happened I was in better shape and able to get her to the hospital in a hurry.


After a while I got the call that they would be keeping her in at least overnight.

That’s when I blew it and I got angry at God! I doubt what I had to say would qualify as a prayer, but who knows.

I guess when we are struggling with a full plate, inevitably it will overflow and that overload is what set me off. I can’t recall whether I was more upset or just plain angry, probably both. I sat by the phone after the call feeling very alone and really scared. First I was scared for I was worried sick about Elizabeth. I also didn’t know yet how serious this attack would work out to be.

I think that for the first time, the reality of how precarious and vulnerable our position is, really struck home. Here we were, Elizabeth having an attack and I was too incapacitated to help her! The enormity of the dangerous possibilities washed over me like a tidal wave and I wanted to be sick.

I sat there with my head in my hands, tears rolling down my cheeks. Then I spoke out loud, to God I guess. I accused him of not being fair, “Don’t you think we have enough to deal with, with my having COPD! It’s very unfair that you do this to Elizabeth. We did nothing to deserve this kind of treatment! She works very hard to stay in good health, especially because of my health problem and then you strike her with this low blow, it’s just not right! Do you even listen when someone calls for your help? We need your help and your blessing, not be driven into the ground.”

I guess at some point I sat upright and realized what I had done and I was ashamed of myself. “I am sorry God for talking this way, I know there is so much work for you to do, but I never asked you for anything before until now, please help us.”

The next morning after much pleading on her part, the heart specialist let Elizabeth come home. It was such a relief to be together again.

Later on that day, we received a phone call. We have a new apartment to go to, our moving date is May 1st! We have been on a waiting list for two years! ~

I sat there very silent as I recalled my ranting of the previous night. I thought of God, and suddenly I felt quite humble. Whether it is just coincidence or not, we will never know. Right now I’m not saying too much.

Footnote: To say we are very busy right now would be an understatement. My absence in posting makes this obvious. Things are afoot. We are moving!

Over the next little while I won’t be around very much, too much packing and dismantling everything, too little time for a while. Will try to make it when able, meanwhile see you on a bright sunny day in May.


C’ya folks! ;)

Eros

February 14th is St Valentines Day, it is also my birthday, I still only get one card to cover! ~

So what are the chances? I live in a rural area, pop approx 20,000.
So what are the chances of finding someone else with the same birthday? Ok. So what are the chances that both of them live in the same small town? More? Ok.
What are the chances they not only have the same birthday and live in the same small town, but they are both exactly the same age! Hah, hah!

Now you still with me? Given all that, what are the chances they both live in the same apartment building! Getaway you say! Now the final piece, what are the chances that they not only live in the same building (only 12 apartments) in the same little town and are both the same age, it turns out they live right next door to each other!! Lets see you top that one!
Happy birthday Bob!
~ ~ ~



So what are you doing for your sweetie on this special day? A nice card, flowers, chocolates? How about dinner and a show? How do you tell her how much you love her? ~ Do you even remember to tell her anything? I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes Bud!

For my honey, I decided to put together a few words that try to express my love for her and what she means to me.

My Love for you

I feel for you, like I were a part of you.
I feel for you, ~ as the beat of your heart,
I feel as ~ the eyes in your head,
Your very precious thoughts ~
And the way you shake your hair.
I feel as part of you, ~ when pouting your mouth -
That smile that would melt any heart.
These are but some of the things I feel.
As being a part of you my love,
And how much I love you.
On this special Valentine’s Day ~ ©
C’ya

“Our kid”

I sincerely apologise for the length of this story, but believe me it was necessary, thank you for your indulgence. ~

I sat staring blankly at the television screen, just me, the TV and a chair. I had sat there now for some little time, a lump in my throat, my emotions just ripping away at my insides as I tried to summon up enough courage to turn the damn thing on! I was angry, I was an empty vessel, yet my feelings ran rampant. I longed so much not to believe the tape, a tape I had yet to watch, even though the dreaded content I knew already. ~

The Christmas card had arrived well in time, as it always had when the family sent them over from the old country. My youngest brother now held the reigns for that annual chore, ever since Mom passed away a few years back, God I still miss her so much.

No more those welcome phone calls, the unmistaken English accent, and who could forget the incredulous questions each time?

“Hello. Is that Eric? Is that Canada? “

The almost disbelief in her voice like that of a child, that you really were not standing in the next room, but indeed 3000 miles away. ~ She never did get used to the magic of the telephone.

Then Ron took over the cards & ocassional phone calls, the greeting there being,

“Hi there Our Kid!” a pause, “Are you doin alright then?”

A favorite phrase that somehow had attached itself to me from Ron. Both the call and the card were very special that year, for they became the very last I would receive.

A couple of weeks later Ron collapsed and died, no apparent warning. ~

I was angry at myself for not being there and worse, not being able to travel such distances now, because of my own health problems. ~

One of the in-laws promised me that the whole funeral & service would be filmed on tape for me. ~

I pressed the TV remote on/play button. ~

The dark screen sprang to life, as swiftly, figures appeared scurrying past the camera in an effort to get seen and be heard. The sounds of “Hi,” “Hi Eric” fell on my ears, with the odd waving hand slipping by, belonging to only who knows who. The camera scanned the church as people moved down the aisles to find a seat, I strained to see if there was anyone I recognised. Quite frankly I was amazed at the numbers of people present, some sad, others chatting away among themselves as they waited for things to settle down and the service to start. I never realized that so many even knew Ron. Tentatively I looked down at the front of the church aisle towards the alter, I was looking for the coffin.

With none in sight it looked more like a turnout for a wedding, with a moderately jovial crowd.

Quietly, I sat looking through my own personal window, protected from the crowd I could see and waited. Sobbing silently as with a flurry of activity, two ushers wheeled in the coffin on a covered trolley, the lump took a violent jump.

A guttural sound forced its way out of my throat, as tears started to flow onto my cheeks. In my mind I was crying out “Ron No!” and the tears became a deluge. Elizabeth came over and hugged me, her own tears falling over my face.

Settling down a little I rewound the couple of minutes of tape I’d missed. At that point the Vicar entered and made his way to the alter, went through his ritual, then turned to address the congregation. I sat there staring, hardly hearing most of the first words he uttered, these were mostly of the routine kind anyway and he had a musically accending voice that was difficult at best.

It had been decided by me prior, that I would furnish the Eulogy, to be read by the vicar on my behalf. ~ He proceeded to move along in that direction, after spending what seemed like an eternity voicing accolades over Ron and his life. ~

Finally my turn arrived as the vicar picking up the eulogy, started reading. He read with a reverance and pride, maybe the most impactive speech he had done in a long while. His reading and voice reflecting to me, that maybe he had practised this before the service began, I just swallowed hard, only to have another lump lodge in my throat. ~

Eulogy/Ron

I come to you today, tho’ conspicuous in my absence, to join with you, both relatives and friends in a celebration of life, for my brother Ron.

Dear Ron, my heart, tho’ full of love for you is also so heavy with grief at your departure.
For some time now you have been on my mind, I guess getting cards from you over Christmas will do that to a person. Of course at times like that, I usually dig out any photographs that I have of the family and reminisce about how I wish I wasn’t so far away, for I have missed you so much.

Not so amazing is how now, at a time like this memories come flooding back to me.

Always foremost in my mind, was always your strength of purpose as you bounded through whatever life threw at you. Many times in my life I have envied you your strength of character, something I wished I had had more of.

But I also remember, your apparent fragile state when as a child of two, you fell off the second stair from the bottom and apparently broke your arm, an accident that soon lost its sense of pain after the crying stopped, for now you had a nice clean cast to show everyone and of course be made a fuss of.

I remember as a child the time before the war and our evacuation to Blackpool, when we had to go in the Sunday school "Manchester Walk" one Easter Sunday I believe, you holding my left hand and Harold holding my right. I have never forgotten that day, for we had to wear little velvet suits that our Mom had made for the occasion, I remember mine was a light Blue.

Even later your excitement at owning your first motorbike, a BSA if I remember correctly. I was left feeling quite humble, for I just had a bicycle although that was my choice. As time went on, the apprehension or excitement at having to go into the army like our brother Harold did under national conscription or as I did as a regular and then you got the cushy job as cinema projectionist for your army service. I still have the photo of you guzzling back a beer on a nice sunny day.

There are so many memories of those years of our growing up, good times, rough times and a few good battles on the golden mile after a few beers, when the ‘Valentines’ took on all comers, I guess in those days we had quite the reputation. Like the three musketeers, it was always "all for one and one for all" with us. I think of those days often and still get a wry smile on my face.

I remember too, all the good times at the clubs, such great friends and friendly camaraderie, as we played our games of darts, cards and domino’s, we did pretty good in those days.

In more recent years since our parents and Harry passed on, we seemed to get even closer you and I. I can still hear your voice when you picked up the phone and uttered those now famous words ‘Hi there our kid’, such a term of endearment from you, one that I shall never forget. I love you Ron, it breaks my heart to realize I will never hear those words again over the phone, or receive the cards you always picked out to send me with such caring and love. I will always love and remember you Ron and all the members of the family no longer here. I dedicate this poem to you that I wrote in my grief.

See you ‘Our kid’ Your loving brother Eric.


Au Re-voir

Warm moisture feel I on my face
Lips tremble tears abound,
My arms around you in embrace.
In sadness, I cradle you.

Misted thoughts do crowd the space,
In my endless swirling mind
Of better times, or better place
But of this you’re not aware.

I grieve for your reality,
Yet celebrate the freedom of your soul.
As silently away you slip,
From the realm of my reality, into
The memory pastures of my mind.

Eric Valentine ©

One Christmas

Can’t you tell that Christmas is upon us. Yesterday I was in the bathroom puttering around to start the day, when in walked the wife. I can always tell when she’s up to something for she gets this mischievous look on her face and a twinkle in her eyes.

“Don’t forget to shave,” she quipped with a smile.

“Why, are we going someplace love?”

“Well no, but you always look better when you have shaved. I want to take some pictures of you wearing this hat.” She flourished a Santa hat from behind her back, then promptly plonked it on my head!

“I’m not wearing that thing!” I retorted while tossing it aside, chuckling as I uttered that futile protest, for I knew she would insist and eventually the pictures would be taken.

It was the magic of Christmas in the air that got me thinking. On this ocassion I was reminded of how differently Christmas is celebrated in various parts of my world.

Here in North America and in Canada in particular, things are very commercialized and on view to the naked eye. Houses are decorated and lit up on the outside, in most cases a thing of beauty, but with the ocassional glaring garish display.

Over in England where I originate from, Christmas is more of an indoor decoration & celebration, unless one tends to go into the town and mix with all the party revelers. Thinking about all this earlier today, brought to mind a memory of when I was a small kid and times were very different in the world. Sitting there daydreaming, I thought of how we used to go out Christmas caroling. This was a popular tradition years ago back home. There would be a knock on the door and when you opened it a group of children would be singing xmas carols. After a couple of songs the people would tip them and off they would go to another house.

It was almost like looking through a window in time as I gazed into my memory. There we were, my brothers and I getting all excited about Christmas and going out carol singing. ~

I thought about the year my two small brothers and I went and rang the bell on the door of a huge hotel on the seafront. I didn’t think too much of it for I delivered newspapers in that area. This man came to the door and as he looked down on us, we started to sing carols. Surprisingly, he was patient enough until we finished. He asked us questions about ourselves and then enquired, did we think our Mother would let us go back to the hotel later that evening? Even though I was only 9 yrs old I knew mom would say it was ok and told the man so. It was arranged then that we go back at 7:30 that evening. Apparently they were putting on a Xmas production for the hotel guests. The man wanted us to go on stage and sing some carols for the audience. We turned up on time and accompanied by a piano, went through our score. We were very warmly received and the crowd were very enthusiastic with their applause.

If you can imagine three scruffy little urchins standing on a stage in ragged short pants singing like angels, we must have looked a right sight. I guess you get the idea, we were almost like a scene from “Oliver Twist” and this was Christmas 1942, ~ there was still a war on.

After we had finished our singing a lady took us along to the hotel kitchen. We sat down to the biggest spread of food that I had ever seen, except maybe in movies.

To start there were Christmas crackers, the kind you pull, they go bang and a trinket usually falls out along with a paper hat. Food was jelly and canned fruit with custard, turkey sandwiches with lots of white turkey and stuffing, English trifle and to finish it all off was a big piece of English Christmas cake with Royal icing, very much like a wedding cake today. We stuffed ourselves as kids will, and to take home they made up a bag of goodies plus a nice box of chocolates for Mom.

In addition to the feast, the hotel people had ‘passed the hat’ around the audience and took up a collection for our performance. We almost fell over when we saw how much money they handed us. It came to about five English pounds, the equivalent of two weeks wages for an adult. We thanked everyone very much for their kindness and the experience, then rushed home to mom with the loot. ~

I stepped back from my ‘window’ only to find tears trickling down my cheeks, as I related my story to Elizabeth. I remembered those times, I remembered my family, all of who are gone now but not forgotten, for I will always have my ‘window’.

The wife brushed away my tears and scolding me gently said,“Just look at you, you didn’t even comb your hair today.” To which I replied, “Oh yes I did, then someone put a silly hat on my head!” We hugged as she laughed at me, tears still fresh on her face.

Eric Valentine Dec 08/07 ©

C'ya

The Treatment

Have you ever stopped to think about the word “Treatment”? Such a flexible word that can be and has been used down through the ages for effect.

There are of course the most obvious uses of the word, like when you feel ill or catch a bug, an “uh oh better get treatment for that“. There are many secondary uses of ‘that word’ such as the carryings on, between let’s say businesses & unions, ~ they sure know how to give each other “The treatment“ come bargaining time. ~ Kids have been known to give parents the treatment, to get what they want. How do you look after your dog/pet? Nice treatment ~ How do you treat the material things you buy or own, ever think about the treatment they get? ~ You get the idea.

The best use of the word though I think, comes into play when you get into the behavior of people. Have you ever took stock of how different people treat each other, depending on which side of the table you come from or the situation?
How about the wife? Does she give you the ‘Treatment’ if she doesn’t get her own way? ~ Yeah, you know what treatment means at those times, it‘s painfully obvious. ~

Elizabeth and I have a lot of fun. I like to goof around and I tease her an awful lot sometimes, ~ but even I am not beyond getting ‘the treatment’ if I go too far. (Insert a smile at this point)
I think that if I had to be serious most all the time I would go nutz!

So I act the goat, be a comedian, take your pick, for there are a thousand cliché’s for the things I do, just to keep life happy and simple. Of course I could do none of this if I didn’t have such a caring and fun loving partner.

You might well ask, what brought all this up? This topic?

Well earlier today, I was busy trying to solve that computer problem I’m stuck with for now. That’s when the wife chose to say

‘let’s watch a movie‘.

Well normally I don’t like watching movies in the early daytime, I’d rather watch in the evening, so I said no I don‘t want to waste time watching a movie! I had to try to fix the problem & the noise from the boob tube would disturb my concentration. ~ Perfectly understandable to my way of thinking.

That’s when I noticed this distinct cool change in the atmosphere, this silence with the retort ~ ‘fine!’
I always know she’s upset with me when she says fine like that.

I looked at her sitting on the couch, trying to keep that serious schoolmarm look on her face, her with her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. (She’d make a pretty schoolmarm)

I said “You’re giving me the treatment aren’t you?”

‘Who me? What is that? ~ She said,

I just burst out laughing as I pointed out the schoolmarm bit to her. At that point she cracked up, and we both laughed together, she can never stay upset for too long, as I explained that I had, had a lot of experience with “The Treatment” thing in my life and could tell in a minute that‘s what she was doing, more laughter from the pair of us, as she said

‘I never thought of it quite like that’,

I just looked and smiled for she is just so sweet. Having second thoughts I said to her,

“ Put the movie on if you want, I’ll manage somehow”.

‘Nope! It’s been on too long and is half over anyway’

I looked at her incredulously then at the clock.

“It’s been on ten minutes! If you discount the intro and commercials, you’ve missed maybe the opening credits!”

‘It doesn’t matter now, it’s too late’

She buried her nose in the book she had started reading. I sat there,

“You’re doing the treatment again!”

Elizabeth looked up, a smile tugging the corners of such a pretty mouth, she has this way of rolling her eyes at times that is so cute.
I tease her some more,
“No point looking up there, you’re on your own with this one”.

More laughter and things are fine once more.

This is the way we are in our relationship, it works fantastic and we wouldn’t have it any other way. You see, ~ Sometimes “The Treatment” does pay off ~ mostly for the ladies and once in awhile, ~ Maybe the guys win one.

C’ya

Mist & Mystery

This particular blog, will mark the one hundredth post I will have made since I started blogging this last January. To celebrate that milestone for me I decided that something a little special was in order. To that effect I have put together a true story taken from my life, a couple of segments of which I did post in part quite a while ago. Today I will post the whole story, now that a few missing pieces have finally fallen into place completing the picture.

This is about the most personel thing that I have written to date, other than the earlier ~ “Eyes of a Child” autobiographical series of posts. So forgive me if it is a little lengthy.




Mist & Mystery

1937

The yellow haze hung in the air like an impending disaster. Above the haze even larger volumes of stormy clouds swirled around tenaciously. Slowly at first the drizzle came down, the kind they call Scotch mist. It saturates the clothing in a very short time and leaves you standing there freezing to the bone. From the edges of the undergrowth rose a cold damp mist that enshrouds and clings to everything. Visibility was at a minimum, making one feel like they were trapped inside some endless void or a drain, much like a drowned rat.

Slowly out of the murky depths emerged a figure, a small slight woman holding the hand of a child. Hunched over against the cold and wet breeze she peered looking for something. Gradually, slowly, like ghostly apparitions, headstones emerged from the mist. Still my mother and I moved on seeking now we can presume, a particular grave. ~ I was four years old.

That is all I can remember about that visit other than eventually we arrived at a headstone. Then we just stood there in the cold misty rain, and my mother adding a warming tear or two.

That was the only visit I ever made to what I found out years later, was my fathers grave. Came the war, evacuations and I just forgot the road back.

At the time of my fathers death, I was a baby of two, with a brother one year old and my mother was six months pregnant with my youngest brother.

As a child growing up it’s not too difficult to notice that other kids have a dad, yet I did not. Whenever I brought up the question I was always told he had died in an accident at a steel mill.

I was ten years old when my mother remarried.

As time passed my stepfather changed from being the nice okay person we had come to know. He became instead quite hateful and spiteful with us kids, with beatings and saying terrible things about how our real father had died, thus creating doubts & mystery that stayed in my mind. Consequently I never did reach any good relationship level with this new man in our life. Instead, I left home at age 17 and never lived there again.

In 1969 my step-father died, so I flew home from Canada for his funeral, but only for my mothers sake.

I might add that even then I was filled with bitterness towards that figure laying in the coffin. It came as no surprise, when I couldn’t shed a tear at the funeral. It took many years for me to come to terms with all that happened and eventually reach a state of forgiveness. ~ Surprisingly, it was only then that I shed a tear for this man.

Before I left England to come back home, I remember my mother calling me into the sitting room. She said that she had something to show me that she thought I should see now, it was something she had kept hidden from us all of our life. Carefully she reached up and took down a sizeable picture that had hung on the walls all those years. Taking the frame apart she removed the picture and revealed yet another picture hidden behind the original.

With misty tears clouding her eyes she handed it to me. It was a fading picture of my biological father hidden behind the other picture.
I was almost 37 yrs old at that time. It had been hanging on that wall all those years! yet she had never spoken a word about it.
Up to that point in time, I had never seen a picture of my father before not ever! Now being an adult, I can understand her doing that rather than having to dispose of it, in light of her getting remarried.

Because of the advent of her death, I have that picture today. Pretty strange no matter how you want to look at it, for I never suspected. ~ Even after all these years I am still amazed. ~

Years later, 2007

Recently at the age of 74, I received a very pleasant surprise. It was an email from my niece in England. In her mail she asked me for some help because she was doing some research into our ancestry/family tree.
It is amazing really what turns up once you get started into something like that. With the documentation we have put together, there is information that goes as far back as six generations.
Of course what seems so ironical is, I had already been writing about our family history myself, there were however many gaps and unanswered questions.

All of this had of course raised the spectra of the doubts of my fathers death, the product of the seeds, sown so long ago in my mind by my stepfather. Doing this research then prompted the possibility of a death certificate for my father? My hopes were slim but we set out to determine that possibility.

For a few days while I waited for more news I was thinking, it was almost like this ancestry thing was just meant to happen, for in doing so it opened that door that had been closed for far too long on unanswered questions.

Later I heard from my relative that after much difficulty, she finally had the document. I waited expectantly for a copy to arrive in my mailbox.

Trembling, I opened my mailbox and there it was, his death certificate. With bated breath I magnified the copy so I could read what it said.

“Cause of death: ~ Coal Gas poisoning ~ Suicide.

I should have felt something at the news, maybe bitterness, even anger? Yet I couldn’t find an angry bone in my body for this man, the man who could have been a father.

With a lump in my throat I tried to swallow, tears trickling down my cheeks. Finally at last. ~ Closure. ~

It was a cool wet miserable day outside, which kind of jogged my memory because of all the things that had been going on. I stood at the window peering through the misty rain. I remembered a visit to a cemetery as a four year old child so long ago.

I thought about that now cold, wet, worn headstone and found myself adding a warming tear of my own. ~

Eric Valentine Aug 25/07 ©

C'ya

A First Impression

It has been many years now since I first set foot in this country. Like many before me, we immigrated here from another place looking for a new life, in a not so promised land.

The very first thing that registered on me was, ‘hell it’s bloody cold here!’ The plane had touched down at Montreal airport for a customs and international health card check before proceeding further on our journey. Of course there probably had to have been other reasons why we landed there but that was the part that effected us. The doors of the plane had been opened since we landed, and they remained open for a whole hour. The icy fingers of the coldest winter wind that I had experienced in many years, came whistling down the aisles, enveloping the passengers and gripping you around the ankles, with the first welcome, to what felt like igloo land!

That certainly was my first impression at the time.

It was early in the month of March and naturally, winter was yet barely over. Another short delay as they found someone who needed a shot before they would be allowed to proceed, and then once more we were on our way.

We arrived at our destination to a fanfare welcome from the gathering of in-laws, some of whom I had never met before, and of course another icy blast of the cold stuff. These family members however, were quite key to us even being in our new home, for we had to be sponsored to come here.
So you get caught up with the initial excitement of things, for that is only natural and the weather momentarily becomes a memory.

That initial meeting with two of my brothers-in-law would be the start of what would turn out to be, our very foundation in this new life.
Just to show just how small the world can be, one of the bil’s turned out to be a guy I went to school with, so many years before and boy had he changed.

Jack, the other bil, is the one that sponsored us and where we stayed for the first eight weeks upon our arrival. Jack was one hell of a guy, full of fire, determination and a real workaholic. He was a great family man with a wonderful wife and kids. He was also a very mischievous person, “Dennis The Menace” comes to mind, ~ talk about a prankster.
There is really only one way to describe Jack, he was the original ‘Give you the shirt off his back’ guy, and that says it all.

Jack loaned me his car so I could go job hunting, he also set me up with a friend in the business to buy my first car over here. ~ Eventually, after I convinced him I didn’t want to live in an apartment, he found a way for me to purchase a house ~ I had been in the country just 2 months! ~ When they came out on strike at the steel mill I got a job at, he got me temporary work working alongside him, and his boss. Thanks to this man, I was able to build a rock solid foundation, in my new home of Canada. He and I were friends right up till the time he passed away from heart trouble, a few years ago God bless him.

Saying just thanks Jack, really doesn’t seem to be enough, but I will never forget my friend, my good Samaritan and for all that he and his family gave to us.

Every person should have a Jack to come to when they start a new life in a new country, I’m sure glad we had ours. I’m forever indebted to my friend, rest well Jack.

C’ya

In Your Dreams

Most mornings when the wife and I get up, we sit and enjoy a nice warm cup of tea/chocolate together. Invariably the wife while drinking her hot chocolate will say, ‘I had a funny dream last night.'
I have never known anybody have such wild dream experiences as Elizabeth sometimes gets, this morning was no exception.

As most of my regular readers know, I have COPD and am on oxygen 24/7.

Generally I never pay much attention to dreams as a rule for they are just that, a dream. They would appear to have no rhyme or reason to them, let alone any real time consequences. So after the initial announcement, I usually just dismiss them with a grunt or some comical remark like, “Well it had to be the lobster you ate before going to bed!” Or some such thing.

Elizabeth started to relate her dream to me, with me just being half attentive. I believe that the first thing that got my attention was she said that in the dream both she and I were on oxygen.

Apparently in this dream, we were sitting out in the grounds of a hospital or some such rehabilitation facility, the both of us with our length of hose firmly attached to the nose. (That alone is a scary thought!)

We were just keeping each other company and shooting the breeze, when this other lady came walking by. Somehow it seems by some kind of a kind of a mix up, this woman got herself all tangled up with the oxygen hose that Elizabeth had on. Obviously the more she struggled the more entangled she became.

The wife meanwhile was having a great big hairy over this performance and promptly started to let the world know all about this clumsy clod! (Another person funnily enough was also in Elizabeth’s dream and that was my PT from rehab! )
Meanwhile back in la, la land. The tangle woman was by now getting quite upset with her predicament. In her frustration she reached into her purse and pulling out a pair of scissors promptly performed an "Edward Scissorhands" routine, deftly snipping the wife’s oxygen hose!

So there sat the wife, holding the cut ends of the hose up in the air for all to see, crying out! Look what she did to my oxygen Waaaaaaaaaa!!

That’s my honey. ~ Thank goodness we wake up from these things is all I can say!

C’ya

Better Ways

Things have been hectic here all day in fact two days and this is just the beginning, for a short while at least. Yesterday we went shopping and got the greatest deal on a new computer, monitor the works! It was a two day sale and we saved 30% on everything. ~ Couldn’t pass that up.

Imagine if you will, 3 computers & two of them are loaded to the gills with files and stuff! Not to mention all the pictures etc, and believe me there are hundreds. ~ So all day long we have been doing the shuffle between the two existing computers. We have to get everything off the old Presario with Win98, which Elizabeth is using, sent it over to mine. I tell you I am overloaded with all the evacuation. The problem is, there are no USB ports on the oldie or floppy on the new ones, so everything had to be done through emails! ~ Of course I reckon networking could have been another option, oh well!

Once we have everything cleared, then we can hook the two new ones up, (for mine is only 1 yr old.) Then we have to sort the stuff out and move all my stuff over to the new one which has Vista, the other one which the wife will have, uses XP which isn’t such a bad arrangement. It will take most of the week but we will get it done eventually.

We also bought this USB gadget it’s a remote/portable memory thing made by Verbatim, that plugs into the USB port and it will hold 1GB of files etc, so I can load up at mine and unload at the new one. Hopefully it wont take too many trips. Hell it sounds more like moving house! There has to be better ways.

Gee! Isn’t it exciting!! ~ Have a good weekend.

C’ya

First Steps

Sunday night we received an email from Julie in England, yes the one who is doing so much in the ancestry search thing. It seems that on Monday morning, her daughter was graduating from the Lancaster University in England, and the ceremony was going to be live on the internet! Well it meant being out of bed before 5am (for England is 5 hours ahead of our time) so we could watch, but how could we not watch! We wouldn’t miss that for the world.

Talk about a beautiful ceremony, you just have to love all the pomp & pageantry and the different colorful gowns of the principal teaching staff and of course the gowns & mortar boards of the students. From time to time the camera would pan the audience of families and friends. You could see the look of excitement and expectations on their faces. It was so wonderful to watch the students of differing ages and different cultures and even one in a wheelchair, as they went up and were greeted by the Dean of the University to receive their diploma, a warm handshake, and a congratulatory word. The whole ceremony was heralded with the sound of trumpets, making it all so much more spectacular. ~ So very special.

It is nice to visualize that this young woman has her whole life ahead of her. Now accompanying her on such an exciting start, the results of the first step, on her journey into a future of who knows where! We all wish her well.

C’ya

Time To Meander

Yesterday was another beautiful day to be in touch with nature. Going to our favorite park is getting to be good habit forming. So just a few more shots of that adventure. (clickable thumbnails)

For those of you who suffer COPD, please note my trustworthy chariot and life saving refreshment on tap! Proof positive that one can get around.~ Follow me!


Surprising difference when the sun goes to hide.

This little fella provided a nice surprise, glad the bullfrog didn't snatch him up!

Another whimsical treat, me wandering around, thank goodness the park is handi-capped accessible. (no drooling allowed!)



Where there are bullfrogs, you just gotta have bullrushes. A beautiful contrast.

For more history and information on the park follow the link. :)

Willow park

C'ya

Living Out Of Boxes

It all started a number of years ago. It had been a cold wet and windy week. I had been hoping for a break in the weather for I had to go and get Elizabeth from up north and bring her down here. It just so happens that it had only been a week since I moved into this new apartment and so my stuff was still scattered all over the place, talk about chaos. Sure most all the furniture was in place and you could make it into the kitchen for a byte to eat, but oh my! ~ THE BOXES!

Believe me folks when I say there were boxes wall to wall I mean it!. I know I have been a bit of a packrat over the years, but I never realized just how much stuff was there until I had to pack for the move. Aside from all the drawers being loaded with stuff, I seemed to have acquired this overspill of things and no place to put them ~ yet! ~ When I surveyed the scene I had visions of all the sales I couldn’t pass by!

I set off with the rental truck to pick up my honey and spirit her and all her things away into my sin bin. I had rented this larger truck because although I had a pick up truck, I doubted it would carry all the gals belongings.

Before leaving for the trip, I had moved my boxes to one side so as to make a pathway for us to walk. I was so excited at what we were about to do, so the time passed pretty quick. It didn’t take too long to get loaded up but by now it was spotting rain, so we had to get a tarp over the load, securing it with those elastic cables that they sell these days. Even so I was a bit flabbergasted at the number of “more boxes” plus other surplus items. More visions of elasticized walls came to mind and a shudder went through me, where are we going to put all this stuff!.

The day couldn't have turned out worse really, for when we started out it was supposed to be a nice sunny day. Well guess again! During the trip back here it literally poured buckets. Consequently all of Elizabeth's stuff was saturated. Try carrying wet soggy boxes and see how you manage! Grrrrrrr

Believe me, you know you’ve got oodles of containers around when you actually have to literally climb over boxes just to get to your computer desk! ~ No Fun! ~ At this stage, even just try finding anything!

A healthy period of time has passed since those days. Even now I am amazed how we handled things and where we put everything. We had gone I believe from something like a hundred boxes, down to what I am looking at right now, ~ four!

The reason I am going through these last couple of items, is yes you guessed it I misplaced something and am in the process of turning the house upside down, but to no avail.

It is surprising just how one deals with such situations like we had in the beginning. Then you end up with a full storage room, small as it is and life is wonderful! Going through a couple of boxes yesterday was what prompted me to make the remark to the missus, “Blimey! we live out of boxes” followed by “I think I could write about that ~ as we both broke up laughing!”

C’ya

A Little Piece of Yesterday

Yesterday everywhere was closed for the long weekend so we went for a drive in the country.

That‘s when we found this little piece of heaven. An Ecology park is what they called it. I have lived around here a long time and never knew this place existed. (clickable thumbnails)

Beautiful. .



More.



Another



And last for now.

A Visit to my Father’s Grave

The yellow haze hung in the air like an impending disaster. Above the haze even larger volumes of stormy clouds swirled around tenaciously. Slowly at first the drizzle came down, the kind they call Scotch mist. It saturates the clothing in a very short time and leaves you standing there freezing to the bone. From the edges of the undergrowth rose a cold damp mist that enshrouds and clings to everything. Visibility was at a minimum, making one feel like they were trapped inside a bottle or a drain like a drowned rat.

Slowly out of the murky depths emerged a figure, a small slight woman, holding the hand of a child. Hunched over against the cold and wet breeze she peered looking for something. Gradually, slowly, like ghostly apparitions, headstones emerged from the mist. Still my mother and I moved on seeking now we can presume, a particular grave. ~ I was four years old.

That is all I can remember about that visit other than eventually we arrived at a headstone. Then we just stood there in the cold misty rain, and my mother added a warming tear or two. That was the only visit I ever made to what I found out years later, was my fathers grave. Came the war, evacuation and I just forgot the road back.

All of this I have to say, has been brought about pure and simply because Julie contacted me, about tracing my families ancestry for her daughter.

One wonders in this exciting adventure, about the long and winding road.

To you Julie, I am forever indebted for this trip.

C’ya

Rehab ~ Hawaiian style

When we had arrived at the hospital for the rehab yesterday, we had noticed that there was a huge sign set up on the boulevard near to the entrance to the grounds. Vaguely I had noticed it said something. Of course, being in the hurry I was in to get to rehab I didn’t really have any idea what it was all about.

Boy! Were we in the right place at the right time. We noticed a bit of action happening on the front lawn. A catering truck was setting up barbecues, cases of water, pop and potted plants?

The surprise happened when we were on out way out after finishing rehab just over an hour later. On reaching the hospital entrance foyer, there were all kinds of people milling around and a lot of them were dressed in differing forms of Hawaiian dress. I still I didn’t know what the occasion was.

I thought maybe the dressed up people were there to visit with patients in the hospital. After all we had bumped into a lady and a huge Newfoundland dog doing a weekly visit with patients in the hospital, on our arrival.

That’s when we noticed everyone outside on the grounds, with some sitting on the lawns eating. Music was playing from an outside system. After talking to a couple of people I was able to determine that all of this was a fundraiser for the hospital.

Apparently this local catering business from town came each year and put on a BBQ. When they say cater, they certainly mean cater!

They supplied everything for the event which was a steal at $5 a plate, with all proceeds going to the hospital. This was a most generous gesture on their part and must have been costly with them supplying all the food, music set-up, plastic plates and cutlery, lots of Hawaiian trappings and decorations all were freely provided by the business, for the fund raiser.

With the bbq setup on the centre grassy lawns and with potted flowers and the inflatable palm trees, it was heavenly! Really it looked just like an oasis in the middle of an urban asphalt jungle.

~ Most spectacular! ~


I tell you, yesterday I ate some stuff I had never tried before ~ remember I am an Englishman/Canadian and I love my meat n potato’s! Pretty much a creature of habit you might say, and at my age, not wont to try things that differ from my norm!

From the barbecue ~ chicken burgers with roasted pineapple.The wife reached for a bun and spread some curry mayonaise on it, then handed the plate to the smiling chef. "Would you like mango salsa on that?" 'Sure' she said, meanwhile, suspiciously I eye the salad, gritting my teeth ~ I spoon up some ‘baby spinach leaf salad‘…(normally I hate spinach) with mushrooms, onions and mango ~ Elizabeth asks about the dressing. The chef beaming, "Cointreau, orange liqueur without the alcohol". Then there was a choice of spring water or various fruit pops.

Dessert consisted of a choice of chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry homemade ice cream, two heaping scoops. Decorate for yourself with a selection from crushed oreo cookies, colorful candy bits, fresh caramel sauce, strawberry sauce and chocolate fudge.

I know! To heck with the calories!

I enjoyed every morsel of it! ~ Boy have I been living in the dark!

This is the link to the caterers’ with a number of recipes including the Hawaiian chicken.


Read and enjoy!

C’ya

Lobster!

Can you believe it? Whenever the weather gets hot and humid, you just know that you’re in for a violent summer storm.

Four or five days ago it rained.. The weather channel had given out a storm warning and this was the beginning. It wasn’t long before the wind picked up as the storm moved into the area and with it, the intensity of the rain increased. Soon things started flying around the place like tumbleweeds in a ghost town! Someone had reported earlier, seeing three funnel clouds in the area. That’s quite the storm.

The trees started to bend and twist, debris flying everywhere as leaves and small branches were ripped off and scattered all over the place. The rain was just pouring down in sheets and hitting the metal overhang with a noise like a hundred freight trains. Close behind was peal after peal of thunder followed by lightening. Suddenly the sound of thunder overhead and sphitz! Bang! Lightening splattered nearby and the power went out !

Earlier we had been trying to decide what to have for supper. We had reached an impasse on whether it would be steak, or as Elizabeth favored, lobster ~ I can’t stand the stuff yuk! ~ I’m a meat and potato’s man myself.

The advent of the storm had surely solved that argument at least! Guess you could say we certainly got 'Surfed and Turfed!'

A screeching whine rang through the air as the alarm on my oxygen concentrator went off. Announcing it had not been shut down properly. A clear indication our power was off. Elizabeth quickly switched me over to a portable tank.

Both computers shut down with a jolt, and an eerie quiet took over inside our small apartment building. Surprisingly not too many people were home. A call to the hydro soon confirmed that the whole town was down and would be for a little while. ~ So we wait.

An hour later comes a knock on the door. A kind neighbor concerned that I might "be gasping for air" decided to check to be sure. She too suffers asthmatic COPD. We explain to her that I am ok and good for about 2 days on portable tanks.

Another hour. ~ Looks like the steak dinner we had planned will have to wait. We don’t want to open the freezer, the wife‘s funny that way and how the humph! are you going to cook it!

Earlier Elizabeth had made a potato salad (to go with the steak) so we plan around that. Cold baked beans and I suggest, "Honey, remember that can of lunchmeat I bought". She gives me that look of horror. (I start rummaging around the cupboard for the can she had hidden! )
Really there’s not a lot of choice. ‘Canned sockeye‘, she perks up desperately . "Just give it a try", I win and offer to help. I open the can and slice the meat up nice on a plate.

My sweetie looks pale. ~ I think the sun just went down! ~

I ignore the obvious and serve the meal. A few minutes of silence elapses then, “hmmm not that bad really , how‘s your lobster honey?!” ~ I think I’ve seen that look on the MIL before! ~ I button up. ~

C’ya