Posted on May 28, 2014 under Storytelling with no comments yet

There’s labour….and there’s labour

 

 

Mother’s Day is in the rear view mirror.  It strikes me as just a bit odd that we only shine the light on mothers on one day of the year.  They nurture and mold their youngsters and sometimes mother turns into s’mother!  They are the masters of multi-tasking.  They are the cement that keeps most families grounded and solid.  There have been many generations of mothers, but they all have one thing in common.  Raising their children is a labour of love.

Many of my neighbors are avid gardeners.  Every spring, I watch with fascination and admiration.  They can’t wait for the frost to come out of the ground so that they can dig their fingers into the moist soil.  It borders on a mystical experience.  They will wave politely as you walk past their yards, but one mustn’t disturb them when they have that “zen-like” look in their eyes.

There are many other labours of love.  A man in his shop, creating things out of wood or fixing his motorcycle is something to behold.  The passion for his work is only exceeded by his passion for his wife.  Well, most of the time, anyways.  I can neither build nor repair things.  I am pretty good at damaging things so if you want something destroyed then I’m your man.

Quilting can be a life-long love affair for many women.  Ditto for knitting.  I even tried knitting for a short stint back in the early 80’s while recovering from knee surgery.  I made about a dozen Lopi sweaters in a short period of time.  I attacked this with the zeal of someone sitting down to his first feed of lobsters.  Many times the knits and purls resembled the aftermath of a tornado.  I distinctly remember driving like a maniac out to see Marie Mackenzie in Morristown when I just couldn’t get something untangled.  It was the first time in my life that I encountered a real magician.  She always laughed when she saw me turn into her driveway.

With the passing of the years, grandchildren come along and this becomes the new and greatest labour of love.  New grandmothers exhibit boundless energy and a new spring in their step.  It is all the joy of parenthood and none of the responsibility.  Priceless.

New parents today have small families compared to previous generations.  A family of four children is uncommonly large.  I recently met a couple who had come from families of 13 and 14 children respectively.  Which got me thinking about labour and delivery.

I witnessed the birth of our four children.  After getting over the complete shock the first time around, a man knows what to expect.  And so does his wife.  Delivering four children is one thing … and I don’t want to minimize the effort that went into producing our own offspring.  But going through labour and delivery 14 times?

That’s what I call a “love of labour”.

 

Posted on May 24, 2014 under Storytelling with one comment

The West River behind Columbus Field

 

 

“And we have just begun, watching the river run,

Listening and learning and yearning, to run river run …”

Watching the River Run – Loggins and Messina

I love to travel and discover new things.  Whenever I get the opportunity to go somewhere I’ve never been before, my heart starts to race just a little in anticipation.  And sometimes this doesn’t require going too far afield, as our own province has many wonders to behold.  There’s nothing wrong with being a tourist right in your own back yard.

So when I heard that my brother had won the use of a villa in France for a week, I waited patiently by the phone for an invitation.  Besides his immediate family, he had room for three more people, and as I surveyed the landscape I thought I had a pretty good chance at being selected.  After all, my brother and I have run together, biked together and even golfed together over the years and we are both lifelong Habs fans.  I mean, how’s that for brotherly love?

Gradually I came to realize that I had not made the short list and that the trip would happen without me, my good humor and my story telling.  I let this sink in and periodically I would mention to him, in the lead up to the trip, that my invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.   The guilt trip did me absolutely no good and, early in May, 10 lucky guests flew across the pond.

Is there anything worse than looking at someone’s vacation pictures?  There certainly is.  When you thought that you would be in those pictures, it stings just a little watching others have “tons of fun”. While I chipped sleet off of the car windshield in the last icy grasp of winter (a.k.a. spring), they were feasting daily on fresh croissants, magnificent cheeses and fine red wine.  And telling me about it. One day I received a postcard from Provence with my invitation to join them in France.  I was given one day to respond.  The card was backdated to March 31^st.  I was to respond by April Fool’s Day.

On the weekend, over fresh cinnamon rolls and coffee, I heard more breathtaking accounts of their trip. I think my brother was feeling guilty when he piped up, suggesting a river cruise two years hence.  “Start saving your money” he quipped.

I volunteered to organize the trip.

He might be surprised when I send him the following itinerary:

“Transport your canoe out to St. Joseph’s Lake and get dropped off at 6:00 a.m. on June 25,^, 2016.  We will launch the canoes into the West River … not to be mistaken for the Danube.  Fine dining will include peanut butter and jam sandwiches and cold beer.  Because it is late June, we might catch some sea trout right around the time the strawberry plants are blossoming.  Your vessel comes complete with a pool. Step out of the canoe any time and have a dip in the river.  We will disembark ten or so hours later behind Columbus Field in downtown Antigonish.  We will walk across the field and have a piping hot dinner at the Prissy Pig.  And, instead of visiting some decrepit castle, we will meander back across Columbus Field to the playground.

We will each take a swing and stare at the clouds as they drift overhead.

I will patiently await his response.

 

 

Posted on May 20, 2014 under Storytelling with one comment

This story recently appeared in the new publication, The Cape Breton Star. If you happen to be new to this website, this will give you a little background about Week45. If you’re a regular…..suffer!

 

 

Why is my column called Week45?  Glad you asked.

My wife Betty and I travel to Florida every November.  We own several weeks in a modest vacation complex; a time share arrangement.  We like this because we see the same people year after year and have become good friends with several of them.  Week 45 is early in November and there is certainly a lively bunch in residence.  What goes on during Week 45 …

Two years ago, on our annual trip, Betty and I had a heated discussion while waiting for our flight from Toronto to Tampa.  I won’t bore you with the details.  If you really want to know what happened, you’ll have to read my book.  It’s the first story and it’s called “You Can Never Be Too Careful”.  This tale, written on the back of a napkin in the airplane, was the first of many.

As far as I can tell, men and women view the world differently (!) and this is a theme that runs through many of my stories.  Betty edits most of what I write to keep me out of trouble.  I started writing in earnest about a year and a half ago and I currently write regularly for The Casket in Antigonish and The Fairview Post in Fairview, Alberta.

Here’s what you need to know.  My stories are short, they are easy to understand (no big words … I don’t know any) and they are mostly funny anecdotes about everyday life.

I grew up in a large Catholic family of ten in Antigonish.  This forms the background for many stories.  Some of you will remember being taught by the sisters and the rigorous preparation for the sacraments.  I have vivid recollections which I will share with you from time to time.  I grew up in a musical family so you will see many references to this, especially the songs of the 60’s and 70’s.  If any of you spent any time in Ingonish back in the day, our family band, “The Escorts”, played every weekend of the summer at St. Peter’s Hall.

Betty and I have four children and three grandchildren who have all inherited the music gene.  There is nothing more fun than finding a way to get them all home at the same time.  It’s the ultimate kitchen party, and there’s usually a story that comes out of it.  Life just keeps getting better.

Like many people, I have had several careers.  I taught briefly, spent many years in the non-profit sector and for the past twenty years I have been a financial planner.  Writing is my next career as I fully expect my business partners, Ron and Shane, are going to put me out to pasture any day now.  I will “not go gently into that good night.”

I am a sports fanatic.  I’ve participated in a variety of athletic activities and ran the Boston Marathon in 2011 and 2012. I am also a bit of a political junkie so you can see that I have lots of fodder for my stories.

Oh yes.  Most importantly, I am not a shopper.  I would rather have a root canal than go shopping.  I always get stuck in the slow checkout and, to keep our marriage together, I no longer shop with my wife … unless she insists.  (By “shopping” he means sitting on a bench with the newspaper – Editor)

Put it all together and you have Week45.  If you like my material you can get regular stories and rants by following my website:  www.week45.com.  Yes, I have been hauled kicking and screaming into the world of social media.  I can also be tracked on Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn.

Welcome aboard!