Posted on October 2, 2024 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with no comments yet

Any day of the week is a good day for a hike at Keppoch Mountain

 

“Sunday will never be the same.”

Sunday Will Never be The Same – Spanky and Our Gang

What is your favourite day of the week?

A few weeks ago, I wrote a story, and someone sent me a message afterwards, reminiscing about Sunday evenings, sixty or more years ago. Sundays had a predictable rhythm. We were marched off to Sunday mass to start the day. In the afternoon we were banished from the house for an afternoon of unstructured play. Our parents weren’t running the roads driving hither and yon to hockey games, dance classes or soccer.

After supper, we gathered around the black and white television. We watched Lassie, followed by one of the all-time great cowboy shows, Bonanza. Who can forget Ben, Hoss, Adam, Little Joe, and Hop Sing? But the most anticipated moment was the opening theme music for the Ed Sullivan Show. At the time, the Ed Sullivan Show was the longest running TV variety show. For many of us, this was our first exposure to The Beatles and Elvis Presley. The network refused to show Elvis from the waist down. The gyrating “Elvis the Pelvis” was deemed offensive by the network.

And who amongst us aging grey hairs can forget the performance by The Doors. Prior to a performance, Jim Morrison had contractually agreed with Ed Sullivan that he would not sing the shocking lyrics “Girl we couldn’t get much higher.” Well, guess what? Jimmy went ahead and sang “Light My Fire” in its entirety earning the band a lifetime ban. Yes. Political correctness has always been with us.

“Monday, Monday, so good to me,

Monday mornin’, it was all I hoped it would be.”

Monday, Monday – The Mamas and The Papas

I’m retired now… sort of, so the days of the week are often indistinguishable. But during my working life, Monday was, well, Monday. Most of us working stiffs had a small knot in our stomachs on Sunday evening, dreading the thought of another long work week. I don’t ever remember meeting anyone who actually liked Mondays. They probably don’t have any friends and eat kale 7 days a week.

“Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday,

Who could hang a name on you?”

Ruby Tuesday – The Rolling Stones

I haven’t read any longitudinal studies on workplace efficiency, but I suspect that Tuesday might be the most productive day of the work week. The final dregs of alcohol consumed on the weekend have been extinguished, you have Monday in the rear-view mirror, and you’re ready to take on all comers.

“Hump day,

It ain’t just any other slump day,

There ain’t no other day like Wednesday,

And they can’t take it away,

Until the clock strikes midnight on Tuesday.”

Hump Day – Samuel Stokes

You’ve made it to Wednesday! Congratulations. It’s hump day. You’re chugging along, chewing up the hours and you know that you have just about broken the back of the week. I don’t know about you, but Wednesdays had a special feel about them. You could almost taste the weekend even though it was 48 hours away.

“Well, it started out just like a dream.”

Thursday – Jim Croce      

There was only one thing better than the weekend when we were working stiffs and that was the anticipation of the weekend. Work productivity started to wane as we dreamt about all of the social engagements, parties and sporting events that we could attend on the weekend. You could literally taste the weekend, and some workers actually dropped into a pub after work on Thursdays just to start revving up the engine.

“Everybody’s working for the weekend,

Everyone wants a new romance,

Everybody’s goin’ off the deep end,

Everybody needs a second chance.”

Working For The Weekend – Loverboy

Yes! Woot! Woot!” We survived another week and we’re ticking off the minutes until the workday ends. People’s spirits were high. (“Girl we couldn’t get much higher”!). Freedom. Frivolity. Fun. Friendship. Friday. I must admit that even in retirement, Fridays still have a feel to them. A very good feeling. A happy feeling.

“Saturday, in the park,

I think it was the Fourth of July.”

Saturday in the Park – Chicago

As a kid, Saturdays was simply THE best day of the week. No school. No homework. A full day of doing nothing but enjoying life. In the summers, we had pickup games of baseball or football and in the winter, we skated on outdoor ponds and built snow forts. We went to a matinee at the theatre, often a “spaghetti western”.

After supper we polished and shined our shoes within an inch of their lives in preparation for Sunday mass. I can still see the 10 pairs of shoes lined up on the floor on a newspaper. Most of us then gathered around the old black and white TV, adjusted the rabbit ears and eagerly awaited the opening bars of the theme to Hockey Night in Canada. I can only remember one sponsor of those iconic hockey broadcasts – Murray Westgate shilling for Esso. We lived and died with the Habs and any game featuring Les Canadiens and the dreaded Maple Leafs was filled with high tension and emotion. One of my next-door neighbours was a diehard Leaf fan. Depending on which team won or lost, it seemed like life and death.

What was your favourite day of the week, then and now?

These days, any day that ends in the letter Y is my favourite.

It means I’m still alive.

Have a great weekend.

Posted on September 18, 2024 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with one comment

Take a walk on the wild side.

 

I’m in love.

I first encountered romance as a child. Most of us had a crush on someone “special” in grade 3. My first time away from home, passion hit me hard in Victoria, B.C. in the summer of 1972. On a trip through California in 2015, I was bowled over and speechless. Those of you who know me well might find that unbelievable. I found love once again in Spain in 2019 and 2023. And most recently, I fell hard again, in the playground of a school. Of all places.

Speaking of falling hard, if you think that this is a typical human love story, you are sadly mistaken.

You see, I have always been in love with trees.

“I think that I shall never see,

 A poem lovely as a tree.

Trees – Joyce Kilmer

I often refer to myself as a hopeless romantic. The key word here is hopeless. I tend to see the world through rose colored glasses. One might even suggest that I am afflicted with the Pollyanna syndrome. For the uninitiated, Pollyanna is a novel that was written in 1913 by Eleanor Porter. Someone labelled as a Pollyanna is one who is excessively positive and blind towards the negative or real. I have to admit that I just can’t watch the news anymore. There is so much negativity in the world.

My one place of solace is in the woods.

The other day, I took “the road less travelled” and went through a path on the campus of St.F.X. University that I hadn’t trod on in eons. This trail meandered through the woods not far from where I grew up. Memories washed over me.

Growing up (did that actually happen?!), I lived on a dead-end street. At the end of that street, there was an endless forest. As children, we spent countless hours in those woods making forts, exploring, eating spruce gum and climbing trees. You see, you had to perch high in the trees so that you could spot invading armies. We encountered snakes and all matter of insects. When we got tired, a bed of moss gave us a place of respite. We even made small fires and roasted marshmallows. The word, idyllic comes to mind.

Do you remember the first time you left home? In the summer of 1972, after completing my 3^rd year of university, I went to Victoria, B.C. It was one of the most exciting times of my life. I came to understand why this city was so popular with young people and retirees, or as they say in Victoria, “newlyweds and nearly deads”! The city and environs are an outdoors paradise. Once you’re outside the city, there are countless places for hikes and long walks in the forest. There are also some gems within the city limits. There is a wonderful walking path on the campus of the University of Victoria. The chip trail meanders throughout this beautiful campus. One of the most unique features is Mystic Vale. This is a forested ravine. It is a Douglas Fir ecosystem, home to more than 75 native plant and wildlife species. When you walk down into the ravine, you enter a truly mystical world surrounded by massive Douglas Fir trees.

I travelled across the United States in 2015 with my son, Peter. We saw a lot of the country but we both agreed that California, with its unbelievable diversity, was near the top of both of our lists of favourite states. In Northern California, we went to Redwood National Park. Standing amidst the giant redwoods was both awe inspiring and humbling. Words can’t describe it.

I walked across Spain twice, once in 2019 and again in 2023. I particularly enjoyed my early morning (5:30 a.m.) walks through the many forests along the Camino. I strapped on my headlamp and wandered alone through the woods. The sense of tranquilty and serenity was almost overwhelming. Gradually, I would hear one bird and then another, often followed by a cacophony, as nature came alive. Quiet walks in the woods are good for the body, the soul and the mind.

And now, I have come full circle. Recently I was substitute teaching at a small, rural elementary school, a throwback to a simpler time. Despite a recent wholesale cell phone ban in schools in this region, there’s no need to worry at this school as internet and cell service are spotty at best. The playground covers several acres and surrounding it on three sides is a forest. This was my first time at this school. I saw children wandering into the woods at recess, unsupervised. I was a bit alarmed until another teacher told me that there was an elaborate trail system and that children were allowed to go there without teachers hovering. I was shocked and thrilled. Imagine, allowing children to discover nature on their own terms.

I didn’t hover but I was quite curious to see the trails. I took a few steps into the woods and found three small children on their haunches, examining a centipede. For a brief moment, I felt that there was still a chance for civilization.

Very often, we can’t see the forest for the trees because we are so wrapped up in our own little worlds.

Grab a pair of boots and go for a walk in the woods.

You’ll be glad you did.

Pick a little spruce gum while you’re at it.

Have a great weekend.

P.S. I will be performing a one man show of music and storytelling on Wednesday, October 16th at 7:00 p.m. at the Antigonish Heritage Museum.

Posted on September 11, 2024 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with 2 comments

Crosswalk or angry walk?

 

“Walk a mile in my shoes,

Just walk a mile in my shoes.”

Walk a Mile in my Shoes – Elvis Presley

It’s Saturday as I write this piece.

Warning.

A rainy day rant ensues.

It is a dark, dull rainy day and most of us are elated. After a hot, dry summer, we desperately need precipitation.  The brook that runs adjacent to my apartment is a mere trickle. Wells are running dry in the county and a water conservation order has been in effect for weeks. If today was your wedding day or you were organizing an outdoor event, you might not be as upbeat as I am. The summer was near perfect, but we are now paying the price.

What is one to do on such a gloomy day? Why, this is simple. Ignore the gloom. Embrace the gloom.

After reading Jane Austen’s classic, Pride and Prejudice recently, I decided to go “full on Jane” and I will spend a good chunk of the day reading her other major work, Sense and Sensibility. I also plan to make a coconut cream pie and go for a walk. If I eat too much pie, I will go for a second walk! Sense and sensibility.

So, what’s on my mind?

I’ll get the rant out of the way early. I write about this all the time but being a cranky, old curmudgeon, there is nothing stopping me from repeating myself. One of the joys of aging is that you can bitch and whine incessantly and none of your contemporaries will even notice. They are either doing the same thing or they have forgotten who you are.

I don’t own a car anymore. Don’t need one. Don’t want one. I live in town, and I can walk to all the places I need to in minutes. This includes, the library, the grocery store, the hospital, the Farmer’s Market and the liquor store. Sobey’s and the NSLC are “side by each” and an efficient walk can yield me asparagus and red wine.

On my daily 90-minute walk, I go through a dozen or more crosswalks. Some days, it feels like taking a casual stroll along the 401 in Toronto. Kenny Loggins had it right when he penned the words “Highway to the danger zone; Ride into the danger zone.” I am super cautious and vigilant when entering a crosswalk because many drivers are simply not paying attention. They are dreaming about their double double at Timmies or lamenting another playoff loss by the Leafs. Most likely, they’re checking their Messenger messages.

The other day, not far from home, I started walking across the crosswalk. A car that had been stopped at the stop sign, pulled out as I was a third of the way across the road. The driver of the car looked me straight in the eyes and continued along his merry way forcing me to stop abruptly. I didn’t give him the finger but threw up my arms as if to say “WTF”. Other drivers choosing to respect the laws of the land joined me in the gesture. If I had been distracted, say, by looking at my cell phone with me head down, a family member would be working on my obituary.

Maybe they need to change the name of crosswalk to angry walk!

What? People actually look at their cell phones while walking?

After nearly getting run down by a car, I nearly suffered a similar fate with a pedestrian moments later. The following description will certainly get me in trouble in some quarters but I’m 73 and I don’t give a damn. A tall, blond, beautiful young woman (a university student recognizable with het X t-shirt) was approaching me in the opposite direction. She was wearing earbuds and was frantically typing on her phone. Her body was on the sidewalk, but her mind was elsewhere. We were on a collision course. Now getting run over by a car is one thing but getting run over by a human, and a beautiful one at that, is another thing altogether. I have been threatening to do this for years. I planned to stand my ground and see what would happen. I mean, I have lived a long and happy life, and I wouldn’t object at all having my obituary state the cause of my death! As a matter of fact, I could have great fun writing that obituary myself. It would start off with something like this: BREAKING NEWS. Old Man Bowled Over by Beautiful Blond.

“And how can man die better than facing fearful odds”! Thanks, Horatius.

At the very last moment, I chickened out. Gallantry is a theme in Jane Austen’s book, and I did the honorable thing and stepped aside. The young lady, to this very day, never knew I existed. For the second time in a matter of minutes, I was muttering WTF. But old people mutter a lot. Nobody noticed.

Originally, I had planned to write a piece about Tupperware lids and missing socks, but I simply had to get this rant out of my system.

Is there a rational explanation of where Tupperware lids go? And can someone explain how a person puts laundry in the washer and dryer and somehow socks end up lost and mismatched? Maybe the missing socks turn into lost Tupperware lids or vice versa.

Time to finish the pie and go for my walk.

Pie. Walk. Pie. Walk. The perfect antidote for a rainy Saturday.

I will keep my head up.

Have a great weekend.