Posted on January 7, 2015 under Storytelling with no comments yet

 All we are is dust in the wind

 

 

“Time is on my side…”

Time is on My Side – Jerry Ragovoy (a.k.a. Norman Meade); performed by The Rolling Stones

When I was young, I listened to this song, hummed it on my way to school and occasionally belted out a line or two.  And I absolutely believed in the title.  When you are a teenager, you think time lasts forever and that you will be running shotgun.  And then you find yourself hurtling toward eternity.

I stood at the end of an empty grave recently waiting for the burial of an elderly family member.  It was a spectacular fall day and the brief ceremony was definitely a celebration of a long, full life.  The deceased, my wife’s great aunt, was a wonderful lady who passed away just shy of her 98^th birthday.  She had been blessed with excellent health for most of her life until her memory left the present to dwell in the past.  No doubt a happier, simpler time.

While waiting for the funeral party to assemble, I glanced at the headstone next to us.  Tammy had only lived five years, ninety two less than Aunt Mary Ann.  She left this earth in 1969.

She may have witnessed Neil Armstrong walking on the moon and may have wondered if she too might reach for the stars.  But this was not to be; in this world, anyway.

None of us know the exact number of days we will be granted.

Many of us are old fashioned and still like to have a calendar or two hanging in our kitchens or at the office.  Calendars mark the passage of time and are oh so important to give us visual reminders of things we need to do and places we need to be.  And while we appreciate calendars given to us by local businesses (yes, some of them still do that), it is far more common to see a calendar adorned with pictures of our grandchildren, pets or handsome firemen.

The problem is, The Rolling Stones have it all wrong.  Time is not on our side.

While it can be strenuously argued that a day still has 24 hours, a week 7 days and a year 365 days, why does it seem like time is hurtling along like an out of control roller coaster?

Another November 22^nd has come and gone and I once again remember with absolute clarity running home from school after hearing about the assassination of JFK in Dallas.  I can scarcely believe that I graduated from university 41 years ago and that my oldest child is 31.

Maybe Jim Croce had it right.  “If I could save time in a bottle….”

The happiest people I know live in the present.  They don’t lament the past or fret about the future.

Our wise and long departed high school English teacher, K.M. MacDonald, was forever exhorting us to seize each day.  She was the first person to make many of us aware of the Latin expression “carpe diem”.

Another year is just about over.  December will once again give us a few days respite as the Christmas season draws to a close.   And a new year will dawn again on January 1^st.

Give the best gift possible this year: your time.  Visit the sick, volunteer for the hot meal program, support a local charity.  Read to a child, sing for the heck of it, go outside and take a big, deep breath.

I take it all back.  Time is on our side.

Posted on January 5, 2015 under Monday Morning Musings with 3 comments

Tuscon, Arizona

Photo courtesy of Peter MacDonald

 

 

What would a long road trip be without some sort of car problems? Ours began just before reaching the Texas border a few days ago. We had travelled through the Louisiana bayous ( an amazing experience in itself ) when we heard a clunking sound in the left rear wheel area. Fortuitously, we were only 20 minutes away from the visitor center in Texas so we were able to get off the Interstate. Peter was able to determine that a mount which keeps the shocks in place had become disabled. Through the magic of text and e-mail, we were able to track down three well known “do it yourselfer” mechanics from home. We sent them pictures of the problem and got a consensus that it was not safe to drive long distances.

With that in mind, we drove to Beaumont, Texas. As this was New Year’s Day, there was no chance of finding an automotive shop open so we hunkered down at a Ramada. There’s silver lining in every cloud and ours was to find a fantastic restaurant just up the road. I had the most amazing jambalaya which was only surpassed by the home made bread pudding, warmed with a rum sauce. If the good Lord had taken me at that very moment, it would have been with a smile on my face. If you ever get stranded in Beaumont, Texas, go to Floyd’s Restaurant. You won’t be disappointed.

The following day, we located a repair shop and the part that was required for the remedy, could not be found locally. They could get it later in the day from a parts shop in Houston. Ok. I don’t want to tell you everything that happened the rest of the day. I want to keep you in suspense for the story that will be coming shortly. Let’s just say that the hour I spent in the repair shop waiting for the fix, prompted me to put pen to paper. I was reading “Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” while the other customers listened ( rapt, I might add ) to two women calling each other whores on the Maury Povich show. The volume was at 10. Are you getting the picture?

My editor is putting the finishing touches on the story from the day and night Peter and I spent in New Orleans. “A Taste of Bourbon” tries to capture the sights and sounds from the French Quarter on New Year’s Eve.

And, speaking of Peter, I hope you are enjoying the wonderful pictures that he is taking to chronicle our trip. He has recently taken up photography and if he works as hard at this as he has done with his music, he will become an accomplished photographer. It took us several days and several states to find a lens that he was looking for but it was worth the wait. His pictures from New Orleans are special.

On our way to El Paso on Saturday, we pulled off the highway to get gas as we were perilously low. ( 15 km. before we would run out ). Normally, we never let ourselves get into this situation but on this stretch of the Interstate, there wasn’t a gas station for well over 250 kilometers. When we pulled up there were about a dozen vehicles lined up in front of us, all with the same predicament. Small problem. In this remote community of Bakersfield ( population 2 – the service station owner and his wife ), there wasn’t a drop of gas to be had. It was three in the afternoon with no gas expected until noon the following day.

There are still good people in this world as a couple of cowboys showed up with several gas cans…. enough to get us to the nearest town. I already have the story written in my head. It will be called “ No Fueling Around.” Stay tuned.

We lost a good chunk of time ( it could have been much worse ) and headed off only to find most hotels in the area full, the spillover from a brutal ice storm 2 days earlier. We soldiered on late into the night and pulled off for a bite. We were told that on that stretch of I-10, there were close to 175 accidents at the height of the storm. The Interstate was shut down for two full days. We were extremely fortunate not to get caught in the storm or be involved in an accident.

Yesterday we drove through New Mexico and Arizona, arguably the two most beautiful states we have seen thus far. Lots of desert surrounded by mountains. Spent a fascinating two hours at the Saguaro National Park, which is home to every imaginable type of cactus plant including the famous saguaro. It was sunny and warm for the first time on our trip. Not complaining but very surprised how cold it has been in the southern states.

Today we’re off to L.A. ,( Los Angeles, not Lake Ainslie ! ) followed by San Francisco and then the final push to Victoria. It has been a terrific geography lesson for both of us.

Have a great day. It’s been nice having you along for the drive.

Posted on January 2, 2015 under Storytelling with one comment

Weathered old hands

Photo courtesy of Peter MacDonald

 

 

“The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.”

Matthew 26:41 King James Bible

Seriously, when was the last time that you thought about your skin?

We cruise through life with nary a thought about our bodies.  We don’t often ponder the blood coursing through our veins, the purpose of fingernails or the function of the spleen.  We occasionally look at ourselves in the mirror just so we don’t forget what we look like.  When everything is firing on all cylinders, life is good and we take our bodies for granted.

However, throw in an abscessed tooth, a fractured arm or sciatica and you become acutely aware that your body is a fragile instrument.  And as the years pass, the aches and pains accumulate so that getting out of bed each day is an adventure.

I was a beach bum as a kid, spending every waking hour swimming in the ocean and scavenging the sandy beaches for shells, dead fish and other precious objects.  We were barely clothed and sunscreen hadn’t been invented.  And the ozone layer was still very much intact.  I took up golf and played a lot during my 45 year career.

To put it simply, I have spent a great deal of time in the sun over my lifetime and it has taken its toll.  During my annual checkup, my doctor noticed several spots on my hands.  They have been there for years but seem to have become more prominent lately.  She decided that they were worrisome enough that they should be removed with liquid nitrogen.  So, over a period of months, she painstakingly applied N2 from a small cup, using a Q tip.  Those of you lucky enough to go through this experience know full well that the application of liquid nitrogen is quite painful and leaves ugly red marks for days afterwards.

There was one spot on my face that caused my doctor to refer me to a dermatologist in Halifax.  I duly waited five months and travelled to the city to have the spot checked out.

I had been to see Scott 15 years ago and we recognized each other as he commenced his investigation.  “So, what have been up to all these years?” he queried.  “Well, the last time I saw you I had a full head of hair and a flaky scalp.  I no longer have an itchy scalp and as you can see, I also don’t have any hair.”  We compared notes and discovered that we had a lot in common, including running.

After a thorough examination, he meandered over into the corner.  He grabbed an enormous cylinder and began pouring its contents into an apparatus resembling a fire extinguisher.  I looked around to see if a sudden fire had sprung up in his office.  I then realized that the tank he was wielding was headed in my direction.  Before I had an opportunity to ask any questions, I was blasted with the icy cold cargo.  Face, hands, arms.  He left no stone, or in this case, spot, unturned.  He attacked me with the fervor of an NFL middle linebacker.

“There will be some red marks in the days to come” he volunteered.  I wondered if this might be problematic for any upcoming beauty pageants in which I was entered.  Or fashion shoots.  I thought of the new visage recently unveiled by Renee Zellwegger and wondered if my work would have similar results and reaction.

My return to the office the following day was met by stares.  My friend, Phil, is a beekeeper and some of the staff wondered if I had fallen headlong into one of his hives.  Feeling a bit self-conscious, I headed to the local pharmacy and asked for something that would mask the ugly spots.

The pharmacist, a native of Cape Breton, cheekily suggested I try some “Oil of Glace Bay”.

With any luck, I got off “Scott free” for at least another 15 years.