Posted on August 5, 2021 under Thursday Tidbits with no comments yet

 

 

Inverness Beach. August 3, 2021

 

Warning: I’m tired and cranky. Incoming rant.

Things are finally opening up across Canada. After many, many months of hibernation, we are finally able to come out of our caves, meet friends and family, go out to dinner and (gasp) actually hug someone we love. We can go to a dance (for those who don’t have two left feet like me!), attend a wedding or a reunion and finally get to grieve the loss of a loved one properly by attending a wake or funeral. Yes, things are indeed looking up and despite my eternal optimism, I see a few dark clouds.

What could possibly spoil a summer of beer and lobsters? An election. No, two elections. We are in the throes of a provincial election in Nova Scotia, and it appears that we are only a few days away from a federal election. This rhymes with another word that I was soooo tempted to use!

Would you rather have a root canal, suffer from dengue fever, have a tic embedded in your arse or suffer through endless loops of empty promises by provincial and federal candidates? I mean no disrespect to those seeking office. It is honorable that you would dare put your name forward in these hostile political times.

History will record these events as the pandemic elections. Politicians of all stripes, federally and provincially, are banking of the warm fuzzies of coming through the Covid 19 crisis in pretty good shape. They are hoping that all we will remember are the soothing press conferences of chief medical officers and politicians followed by analysis of infectious disease specialist. Isaac Bogoch could probably become Prime Minister if he chose to, but he is too smart to do that.

I also believe that most sensible and informed politicians (is that an oxymoron?) know damn well that this opening up of the economy is a temporary reprieve before we’re hit with a fourth wave. They know that respite care for weary Canadians is essential after 18 torturous months. They also know that by relaxing restrictions, it is only a matter of time before those nasty variants rear their ugly heads in large numbers. I hope I’m wrong but if we let Jason Kenny and the likes of Mad Max Bernier have their way, the pile of manure out behind the barn will look like cotton candy.

You see, Maxime Bernier, the leader of a federal political party (PPC) refuses to get vaccinated. Pandemic leadership at its finest. And cowboy Jason Kenny has let all the horses out of the barn and left the doors wide open. Should you be an Albertan, you have the luxury of getting Covid 19 without having to self- isolate. And forget about those pesky contact tracers. The wild west lives again. Secretly, I think Jason and the Gang (sounds like a disco group), want to become the 51^st state south of the border.

Why are you so cranky and cynical today, Len?

As I mentioned in my opening, I am tired as I write this piece, but it is a good tired. Is there such a thing??? For the second time in 7 days, I have circumnavigated the Cabot Trail… by car! If you are new to my website, you might not get the inside joke. Two summers ago, I walked the Cabot Trail, all 300 kilometers of it. I am very happy to report that the easing of restrictions across the country can be seen on the Trail. Last week, there was very little traffic, and the restaurants, motels and gift shops were virtual ghost towns. The switch was flipped this week and things almost looks normal. The restaurants were busy, there were tons of vehicles on the road, and the beaches were filled with giddy sunbathers and swimmers.

The latest tour with family members was a marathon 16.5-hour affair. The weather was outstanding, and we got to see just about everything that we had hoped to see. We were mildly disappointed that the entrance to Mary Ann Falls was blocked off. I was hoping to get in there to retrieve the car keys that I lost 40 years ago, that sit on the bottom of a deep swimming hole at the falls.

Even though fatigue was setting in, we were determined to get to the final item of our “must see” list. We arrived at Inverness Beach (pictured above) about an hour before sunset. The sky was absolutely electric. While the others swam or walked the beach, I stayed in one spot, utterly transfixed and mesmerized by the changing skyscape. I kept taking pictures every minute or so and no two looked the same. It was the proverbial icing on the cake to a wonderful day.

Sorry to all my political friends running for office.

I didn’t mean to take a jab at you!

Have a great weekend.

P.S. Just a reminder that my four children (The MacDonald Family) will be performing at Piper’s Pub tomorrow evening (August 6^th) from 6-9 p.m. There is no admission. Come and have a beer and a bite and enjoy some old classics. Hell, if you sit with me, you’ll be sitting with an old classic!

Posted on July 29, 2021 under Thursday Tidbits with 3 comments

 

Our mom’s 80th

 

“It’s a long, long road, from which there is no return,

While we’re on the way to there, why not share?

And the load, doesn’t weigh me down at all,

He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.”

He Ain’t Heavy. He’s My Brother – The Hollies

Sibling rivalry.

Have you ever had an argument or disagreement with one of your brothers or sisters? (Does a bear shit in the woods?)

That might be one of the most asinine questions that I have ever posed in this space. The only possible reason for not having a fight with a sibling is the fact that you were an only child.

Many of my readers are seasoned veterans. Translation – We’re receiving our Canada Pension and Old Age Security. As such, many of us are products of the Baby Boom when children were being conceived at an unprecedented rate. Large families were commonplace especially here in The Little Vatican. Families of 6-10 were the norm.

I don’t care who you are but put any ten people in a small three- bedroom house for an extended period of time, with one bathroom, and you are inviting hostile, internecine warfare.

In a big family, you compete for love and affection but mostly for food. The greatest battleground in our house was the kitchen table. The big table in the dining room was reserved for civilized company, like priests or out of town guests. I didn’t know what leftovers were until I spread my wings and lived on my own. Leftovers? Are you kidding me? Chipper, our dog may have been one of the most undernourished canines on the planet. The only time he ever received a table scrap is when mom served liver. If you want to know what WW111 might have looked like, look no further than the last piece of dessert. Mom was judicious in handing out dessert but from time to time (usually when a sibling was sick), there might be one piece of cake or pie remaining. This is where we had our first taste of hand to hand (hand to mouth) combat.

The second major battleground was the kitchen sink. We all had to take turns doing the dishes and, of course, there was always a mountain of them. With eight of us, the division of labour was easy to mete out. We worked in pairs. At least that was the theory. Occasionally the dish washer and dish dryer were on speaking terms but that was an anomaly. Invariably, one of the combatants was having a bad day. Pity help the dish washer if the dinner plate wasn’t cleaned to within an inch of its life for it would swiftly and unceremoniously be tossed back into the soapy water. This might be met with a flick of this same water back into the eyes of the dryer.

My siblings were all good students so there was the ever-present pressure of good marks in school.

When it came to clothing, there wasn’t much discussion. The older ones got the new duds while the rest of us got hand me downs. Flaunting new clothing was a sure-fire way to piss off the rest of us. “Don’t give me no hand me down shoes, don’t give me no hand me down love; don’t give me no hand me down world, I got one already.” Hand Me Down World – The Guess Who

While we all had our differences and idiosyncrasies (except me, of course!), our love of music was universal and undeniable. When we weren’t at war, which was a constant (just imagine the hormones percolating under the roof of that small house), we shared one passion, one we carry with us to this day. Music was the thread that prevented a reincarnation of the massacre of Glencoe. If any of my siblings read this, they might have a different point of view. Some of our musical gatherings (especially when we were in bands together) might have resulted in global destruction.

The years dispersed us to the far reaches of Canada. A few of my brothers moved to B.C. and my sister taught school in Newfoundland. We all had busy lives and managed to keep in touch. We had a few memorable family reunions.

The years passed and in retirement many of my siblings made their way back to Antigonish. We see each other frequently and have the luxury of time to enjoy meals and walks together. Our appetites have waned considerably and these days, there are always leftovers, even dessert, a blasphemy 50 years ago.

Time marches on and the death of siblings becomes an unpleasant and unwanted reality. In large families, grief can be shared among those left behind.

While sibling rivalry is real and often painful, you can’t rival having lots of brothers and sisters.

They will stick with you to the bitter end.

And gladly eat the last piece of apple pie!

Have a great weekend.

Posted on July 22, 2021 under Thursday Tidbits with no comments yet

Shelley Carroll

From time to time, I like to share other people’s stories. My friend, Shelley (I met her once for 5 minutes!) is a writer. I loved this piece she wrote recently. I think most of us can put check marks by many of her observations about this journey we call life. Enjoy!

Contributed.

I’ve been 48 years old for the past 24 hours…and here’s what I know so far…

There’s no shame in admitting one’s age. As the saying goes, growing older is a privilege denied to many, so I don’t dare complain or deny. I’ve earned every one of these grey hairs, crow’s feet, stretch marks, and scars. I may not have them all proudly on display, but I acknowledge they are a part of me and every one tells a story. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

Because here’s the thing:

You don’t get where you’re going without the occasional traffic delay, bumpy road, accident or detour. Sometimes your course gets changed up altogether. Dead ends and wrong turns can be absolutely pivotal. Factor in the pee breaks, lunch stops, time to refuel, wonky GPS, and changes in travel mates, well, let’s just say it makes for an interesting journey.

My life thus far is no exception.

It’s been an experience being me – and I hope the same can be said for those who have been along for the ride – whether for the entire route or just for certain portions of the trail.

At the ripe “old” age of 48 years – and again, it’s still new to me; I’m still trying it on for size – I have the time to reflect on where I’ve been and where I still want to go.

I remember being 16 and having “a plan”. And if I sit quietly, I can almost hear the echo of God laughing.

Oh, I had big plans.

If my dream of being a world famous author/psychologist/singer-songwriter/Catholic Church deacon didn’t quite pan out, my back-up plan included the fervent hope that I’d be independently wealthy by virtue of magic and wishful thinking.

The fact of the matter is that while I didn’t end up becoming any of those things – and thank goodness for that! – I still can’t complain about my lot in life.

Instead, and perhaps in spite of my initial plan, so many more rewarding experiences and roles have graced my life.

That’s not to say that my heart and spirit weren’t broken a few times in the process, but it has all culminated in where and who I am today.

And I’m not done yet!

I’ve been a babysitter, a fast food server, a chambermaid, an admin at a newspaper, an advertising sales rep, a correctional officer, a parole officer, a project officer, a labour relations advisor.

But more than that – I’ve been a student, a mother, a partner (er, more than once!), an ex-wife (more than once!), a daughter, a sister, a friend, a runner, a whiner, a survivor, a thinker, a feeler, a loser, an arsehole, a winner, a start-all-over-again’er, and a stock-taker.

That first group of “things I’ve been” has provided me with money to pay the bills and care for my children, the chance to meet people, learning opportunities, and a tremendous amount of growth opportunities.

The second group of “things I’ve been”, however, has been the most rewarding, traumatic, personal, validating, life-changing, and defining.

And the latter group consists of all of the things I didn’t necessarily learn in school. Even if I’d been warned ahead of time, I know in my heart of hearts and deep in my ovaries that I wouldn’t have listened anyway.

These are the lessons learned on the road.

They hurt.

But pain gives direction. And in spite of the pain I felt, I truly believe that luck (and perhaps a very battle-weary guardian angel) has always been on my side.

I have been so incredibly fortunate. Because through it all, I’m still here. I’m not the me I might have otherwise been, but I’m still me… bigger, stronger, and not as fast as before.

And for all the bumps and bruises I’ve sustained (and maybe even inflicted), I wouldn’t change a thing.

Through it all, I’ve been loved. And I cannot ask for more than that.

So because I’m curious and nosy and ready for more, I can’t WAIT to see what happens next.

I’ll continue to make my plans. But I will also have to be willing to roll with the punches, bob and weave, get knocked down, but then get up again.

I’ll keep moving forward, breathe with the diversions, take in the scenery, laugh, cry, swear, read, write, run and squint to see the sunshine.

But I’ll also bring along a snack and a note book – I don’t want to miss anything. Tomorrow is not promised. But I’ve got to admit that today is looking pretty darn alright.

So take stock, my friends. Embrace your hardships as well as your accomplishments. They all shape you.

And if I can say that, so can you.

But with an abundance of caution, of course.

I’m not in my twenties anymore, for chrissakes.

 

Shelley Carroll

2021-07-18