Posted on April 11, 2019 under Thursday Tidbits with one comment

Getting an oil change

 

There’s a first time for everything.

First date. First kiss. First job. First airplane flight. Life is full of firsts and though we think we’ve seen it all as we pass through life, there are still many unique experiences. I remember my first date and my first kiss. I doubt that the young woman on the receiving end of my attention and affection has even the foggiest recollection. My first job was mowing the grass in the graveyard under the guidance of Joe “Mike”. The only time I got a break from mowing “between the crosses, row on row” was when there was a committal or burial. My very first plane flight was to Newfoundland to represent Nova Scotia in a junior golf tournament. The return trip was easily the scariest flight I have ever been on.

I was attending a birthday party last weekend and most of the attendees were north of 60. Every discussion I had with other guests revolved around health. Quelle surprise. Let’s face it, the clock is ticking and the warranty on our bodies is fast approaching. That is not to say that we don’t still have many good miles on us, but the wear and tear of life are telling.

I was engaged in a spirited discussion about pain and pain management, a subject that I have discussed here before on more than one occasion. I was telling a friend at the party about my journey of pain and my elusive search for some kind of remedy. After going through a long list of treatments, including legalized marijuana, she suggested that I go to the NSLC and try some CBD oil. Cannabidiol oil or CBD (I always thought CBD stood for Cape Breton Diesel!) contains extracts from cannabis plants. Some people use CBD oil to relieve pain associated with chronic conditions such as arthritis.

I had been thinking about CBD oil for some time. I left the party, walked through campus and Liquor Lane and found myself in the legalized marijuana dispensary at the NSLC.  It was a quiet evening and I had the undivided attention of two young men who gave me a primer on CBD products. The oil comes in varying strengths and some contain THC the main psychoactive cannabinoid found in cannabis. I gather that in some cases, the THC can give a person a mild “buzz” but most old farts like me want pain relief and not the high.

One of the clerks told me that his mom has suffered from arthritis for years and that CBD oil has been a game changer for her. We discussed options and $36 later, I walked out carrying a bag containing 30ml of cannabis oil.

The regulators of legalized marijuana are taking the sale of these products very seriously. There are lots of warning signs in the store as well as on the labelling of the products. But it is the packaging of these goods that leaves me scratching my head. In attempt to child proof my CBD oil purchase, the authorities also “senior proofed” it. I was easily able to remove the package from a small brown paper bag. Years of practice removing bottles of rum from NSLC bags were my training ground.

The outer cardboard packaging was the first layer. By the time I extricated the actual bottle of oil, I felt as if I had received a gift of Matryoshka dolls. You know. Those Russian nesting dolls which stack one inside the other. Once you remove the outer shell, there is a tiny box resembling a coffin for a grasshopper (pun intended). And inside this container is the 30ml bottle of CBD oil. And this is where the fun begins. If I had happened to have arthritis in my hands, I would have had to call a neighbour, a nurse, a paramedic, a continuing care worker or possible a welder with a blow torch to remove the hermetic seal from the bottle. I have never seen plastic wrapped so impossibly tight around an entire bottle. I chiseled away at the plastic with a sharp paring knife. I am also certain that I uttered some expletives heard only by our plant collection. Seriously, while I appreciate the intent of the regulators, I think the packaging is a little over the top, not to mention more waste in the landfill.

I’ll let you know how this experiment goes.

It is National Volunteer Week across Canada. Volunteers keep our economy going, especially in small town Canada. I realize that some of my readers are still in the trenches, raising a family and working full time. Volunteering is not an option when exhaustion is your constant companion. But for all you seniors and retirees moping around, bored out of your skull, why not do a shift at the Food Bank or help peel potatoes for a lobster dinner fundraiser? You’ll meet lovely people, you’ll stop thinking about your aches and pains and you’ll feel good having made a contribution to the well-being of your community. Put the remote control down, turn off Facebook and do something positive. Good for your body and soul.

Have a great weekend.

 

Posted on April 8, 2019 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

Some of these street hockey sticks have been around for 50 years

 

“The good old hockey game, is the best game you can name’

And the best game you can name is the good old hockey game.”

The Hockey Song. Stompin Tom Connors

If you’re not prone to fits of nostalgia or don’t care much for hockey, you can skip right to the bottom of the page or go and check your Facebook feed.

Another NHL regular hockey season is in the books. There was plenty of drama as the season wound down as several teams were on the bubble trying to make the playoffs. One of them was my old team, the Montreal Canadiens. Old, you say? Cheering for the Habs was my birthright as my mother was born and raised in Montreal. When I was born I knew I was going to be Catholic and a Canadiens fan. Neither was questionable or negotiable. There was a time that I lived and died on the outcome of every Montreal hockey game but these days, wins and losses are treated with a shrug. Call me old fashioned, but the original six prior to expansion, was the golden era of hockey.

I’m not going to suggest that hockey wasn’t business in the pre-expansion era. It just seemed that hockey was the primary focus back then rather than the gaudy display of glitz and glamour seen at many NHL rinks these days. Today, hockey is entertainment and business. You can attend a game in Vegas and never realize that a hockey game is the feature attraction.

Watching hockey on a Saturday night was a near religious experience for most Canadians back in the pre-expansion era. Families gathered around old black and white television sets and listened to Foster Hewitt or Danny Gallivan make the play by play call. On Sunday nights, we crawled into our bunk beds and listened to games on our transistor radios.

It is an interesting footnote; the last time that the Toronto Maple Leafs won the Stanley Cup was in the spring of 1967. The league would expand later that same year. To jog your fading memories, here is a short list of some of the players from the 1966-67 hockey teams:

Toronto Maple Leafs: Tim Horton, Dave Keon, Frank Mahovlich, Eddie Shack and Johnny Bower.

Montreal Canadiens: Jean Beliveau, Yvon Cournoyer, Henri Richard, Serge Savard, and J.C. Tremblay.

Boston Bruins: Bobby Orr (the greatest to ever lace them up), Gerry Cheevers, Derek Sanderson, Johnny Bucyk, and Don Awry.

New York Rangers: Rod Gilbert, Bernie Geoffrion, Vic Hadfield, Jean Ratelle, and Ed Giacomin.

Chicago Black Hawks: Stan Mikita, Bobby and Dennis Hull, Phil Esposito, and Glen Hall.

Detroit Red Wings: Alex Delvecchio, Gordie Howe, Doug Harvey, Paul Henederson (Yes. THAT Paul Henderson), Norm Ullman and Pat Stapleton.

This past Saturday, I decided to watch the last game of the season for Montreal as they hosted their hated (?) rival, the Toronto Maple Leafs. I question the fact that there’s much enmity in hockey anymore. In the pre-expansion era, you played every team with regularity. Bad blood became the norm especially in an era when fighting was an integral part of the game. My next door neighbor was a Leafs fan and the day after a Leafs/Hab tilt, one of us would be preening like a peacock while the other would be waiting for the next street hockey game to claim some retribution for the endless taunting. One year, I even sent a sympathy card to my neighbor when Montreal knocked the Leafs out of the playoffs. He wasn’t amused.

I’m long past the time that I will stay up late to watch an entire hockey game, even a Stanley Cup final. It’s a combination of old age and not really caring about the outcome. I watched this game to see (hear) legendary play by play broadcaster, Bob Cole call his very last game after 50 years in the booth. A rookie for the Canadiens, playing in his very first NHL game, scored a hat trick and the shootout winner providing a pretty decent script for Mr. Cole’s finale.

This was also the one year anniversary of the Humboldt tragedy. Every NHL team played a single stick outside their dressing room doors to mark the occasion.

If Bobby Orr comes out of retirement, I will stay up and watch every second of the game. My favourite player of all time and this, from an old Habs fan!

On the weekend, I had the honour of singing at a funeral of a former resident of the RK Nursing Home. I travelled to Louisdale and was welcomed as family. There’s something very special about funerals in small communities. They seem to be much more intimate and personal. There was a heartwarming and sincere eulogy delivered by the deceased’s nephew which is rarely seen these days at a funeral mass. I mingled with family at the local fire hall after mass. With a massive plate of homemade sweets on each table, I felt obliged to try a few so as not to insult the locals!!!

Have a great week.

P.S. This is Masters week. (Golf) This is the only television sporting event that I watch from start to finish. If I don’t answer your calls, texts, e-mails or personal messages, don’t take it personally!

 

 

Posted on April 4, 2019 under Thursday Tidbits with one comment

 

After a brief retirement (https://www.week45.com/monday-morning-musings-290/), I’m back at my desk typing (pecking) my 985^th post. The response to my April Fools’ story was quite interesting. It was one of the most read posts in seven years. I was pleasantly surprised that so many people actually read the entire piece. Sometimes, I can’t tell if anyone is reading my meanderings other than my stalwarts.

Thanks for all of the comments, even to those who called me 1) a brat, 2) an asshole and 3) a bastard!

Count your blessings. Repeat.

I walk every day of my life and am consciously grateful for all that I have, especially my health. It was not that I needed a reminder but last weekend, I was in Halifax and paid a visit to a friend who is a patient in the Nova Scotia Rehabilitation and Arthritis Centre. If you want a quick reminder of your good fortune, just walk the halls of the Rehab Centre to gain some perspective.

There’s an entire floor dedicated to brain injuries, another for stroke and heart attack patients and another for people who are either paralyzed or recovering from paralysis, such is the case with my friend. Most of these peoples’ lives were changed in the blink of an eye. So if your internet connection is slow or you find the lineup at Timmy’s too long, please feel free to give yourself a quick boot in the arse. If you can’t accomplish this task on your own, I’m sure there any number of friends who would accommodate the request. Actually, I suspect there might be a long lineup of people who would wait patiently to assist you.

I realize that I’m constantly haranguing you about various fundraisers. Last week, I received a lot of unnecessary attention when I decided to donate some of my India books to help raise a few dollars for the Benoit family who lost their beautiful daughter, Olivia, a few weeks ago. I wrote a comment on my Facebook page which I am reposting here. “I appreciate the messages and the sentiments behind them. I am certain that there are countless people who have reached out to the Benoit’s in a quiet way. Silent acts of kindness carry as much weight as public ones like mine. I don’t think any of us feel particularly heroic when a family is in such pain. We just do these things because we can and we should.”

If you are passing through Sobey’s, please go to one of the checkouts and purchase my latest release for $10. All of the money will go to the Benoit family. If you’ve already purchased my book earlier, go and buy another. Give it to a friend. If you’re short on friends, give it to the Easter Bunny!

I am very pleased to have a new advertiser on my website. The MacDonald Notebook gives the reader a behind the scenes look into politics and the business world, much of it here in our own backyard in Nova Scotia. Owner and publisher, Andrew (Colin R.) MacDonald has been writing for decades and provides keen insights on what’s really going on. Check out his website: https://www.themacdonaldnotebook.ca/ if you know a business that would like to advertise on my Week45 website (for $10/week), let them know that I have the most sophisticated and erudite readers in the free world and that their business should be on my website!

Four weeks from today, I will arrive in Madrid to begin my Camino.

Have a great weekend.