Aging Gratefully During a Pandemic

 

I do not age gracefully. Even as a youngster I wasn’t physically graceful. I am; however, grateful for some of my circumstances during the COVID 19 pandemic.  I live alone so I’m accustomed to enjoying my own company, although sometimes do I get on my own nerves. When I was tired after my third COVID 19 vaccination, I went to bed without setting up my coffee maker. The next morning, after I managed to make coffee while in my pre-caffeinated state, I decided to be thankful that the machine is only moderately difficult to fill and only a few grains of coffee landed on the kitchen floor.

            Eating is one of my favourite occupations. I miss dining in restaurants with friends, even though we didn’t meet very often. I’ve become best buddies with my refrigerator and its small freezer compartment. Sometimes, I just open the door to see if by some miracle there’s anything new inside. At last, I understand why my grandsons would open the family’s fridge door and stand gazing at its contents. I’m truly grateful form my fridge and for enough money to fill it.

I’m thankful also for refrigerated grocery delivery trucks.  These days, I order my food stuffs online and have them delivered. Of course, that requires making a list ahead of time. It also requires knowing where I put the list, or failing that, starting a second list.  I can get some non-grocery items from the same source and that helps too, if I remember what I need.

Going out to a real store is a major adventure and I don’t do it often. In fact, by the time all this is over, entire neighbourhoods may have changed before I see them again. And, I have no idea what has happened at the local shopping malls. I haven’t been to one in two years. There may be new stores, or fewer stores, or zombies might be roaming the corridors. I’d be grateful not to see them.

Staying inside so much has led me to modified voyeurism. From my windows, I see the corner where the school bus stops to pick up local children. I notice how many of them are waiting in the morning. One day, the youngest one with the pink boots is missing. I wonder if the child is okay. When she appears the next day, I’m happy to see her grubbing in the snow bank.

Because I am inside so much, I’m often online, probably too often. On the one hand, I’ve learned more about many frivolous things.  For example, I now know what women wore under their dresses in the Victorian era. On the other hand, I’ve learned a bit more about Canadian and world history. That’s a bonus, I think.

When I’m free to wander places at will, I’m not sure how far I’ll go. Due to the pandemic, I’ve come to truly appreciate my home as my haven and I’m grateful to be in it.  I hope all your homes are safe places.

The Making of Waves - Stories from the Magic Filing Cabinet.

Many writers save all the versions of their work and the feedback on it that they receive from various sources such as critique groups, writers in residence, friends, and sometimes beta readers. I store printed copies of some  work in a small filing cabinet next to my desktop computer. In there, it's out of sight but perhaps not out of my mind. 

When the pandemic continued and we headed toward the second year of staying put, life  slowed down for me. I still miss my Viking and my involvement with the Rockway Entertainers chorus but  there was time to do more than to write the occasional haiku and On-The-Buses note for my Facebook page.  If I could find the energy, the objectivity and the stamina I might be able to put some of my short stories together as a collection. I chose eleven from my filing cabinet stash.

 I hadn't reread the stories in a long time. I had always found it difficult to accept criticism of my writing, especially when it was blunt. However, when I began to rewrite them, I was less hampered by previous impressions and critiques, and more able to refine them.  Two dear friends, Lori Hahnel and Dee Miller helped me with editing and proofreading.

I chose to self-publish the stories partly because of the time factor. Small presses can take eons to decide on whether to publish a writer's work. They have a hard time surviving in these Amazon dominant days. 

After some research I chose  www.volumesdirect.com the publishing division of M & T Printing, a local company. You can find Waves in the fiction section.

 

                                                     Blog Revival Time

It's been an age since I posted here. Of course lots has happened to all of us. The only writing I did was posting comments, On the Bus pieces, musings and haikus on Facebook. However, this autumn, the short stories that lived in my filing cabinet finally shouted loud enough that I had to take them out, and rework them.

Thanks to the help of friends they will be ready to publish early in the new year. I will write more about the collection when the launch is closer. In the meantime, I hope everyone stays safe and well. 

I'm Not a Pillar or a Cornerstone. Maybe I'm a Small Brick

When my dear partner died, I vowed not to rush into anything new until I felt ready. Lately, I've been considering what my future options might be now that I am alone, again. It's not that I lack choices. I have many, perhaps too many. There are writing projects waiting. My apartment could use some redecorating. The sheet music files our choir uses need my attention. There are a lot of 'volunteer opportunities' available for someone like me - an older woman who is not currently a care-giver, is spouse-less, and has no dependent relatives. I am a VIP (visitor in the parish) for members of the church I attend, but I hesitate to add more 'opportunities'.

I suspect I'm not designed to be a pillar of the church, or a pillar or cornerstone in the community. I know and respect the people who are. I don't know what they are made of, but it is something above and beyond my mortal capacity. A lot of pillars are women. Women who care for dying family members at home never get mentioned; but they are family cornerstones. Women who make 300 pies and sandwiches routinely for church or community events and who turn out week after week to do the work that keeps churches and charities running are pillars. Women who chair committees in their spare time between caring for aging parents, and ferrying teens and adult children without cars to appointments are cornerstones.

The girls of my generation, the baby-buster generation born slightly before and during World War II, had as role models the young women and mothers  who cared for family and community. They worked, if they needed to, or wanted to; and, if they were married, if their husbands agreed to it. In addition, they volunteered for many of the duties that keep society working as a matter of course. Also, because there was no other option, they looked after aged family members who needed care at home.  A number of these role models are still around, or have left us very recently.  Were they made of stronger material? Probably not. They did what they were sure they had to do. However;  it worries me when a pillar falls ill, or dies.

A slightly older woman friend, who is also a member of the baby-buster generation and who is very active in her church and community spoke to me recently about her desire to slow down and guilt she feels about that possibility. Who will do it, if I don't? That's the unasked question.  I don't have a glib answer.

Younger women today have a lot to do, and there are a zillion expectations placed on them. Have a fulfilling career!  Have a perfect family! Have a perfect life! Don't forget to look fabulous, always! No wonder being a pillar doesn't fit in. But,  maybe just doing one thing, adding one small brick and doing it consistently will be all that can be offered to the community and/or the church.  Maybe if enough of us do that one thing, and continue to do it the small bricks will keep the building standing.

One August Afternoon in Kitchener - A Photo Essay

There is beauty in my neighbourhood in every season. These photos were all taken on August 5th, 2015, in the Civic Centre area of Kitchener, Ontario.

The Church of the Good Shepherd (Swedenborgian) is known locally for marrying many folk who
might not have the opportunity to wed in other churches.  This building was finished in 1935. The first Swedenborgian church in Kitchener, then known as Berlin, was built in 1833.
 

 

The Kitchener Fire Fighters' Memorial in Civic Centre Park. The internationally known sculptor is Timothy Schmaltz (www.TimSchmaltz.com).
 

 

The Waterloo County Gaol  Garden is small but delightful and has a fountain. The stone walls are remnants of the original jail which was built in 1852.
 

 

Tall natural grasses in front of  the Region of Waterloo headquarters are part of the Naturescape Demonstarion Garden.

 

A flowered path along the side of St. Andrew's Presbyterian church leads to the contemplative space in the next photo
 

 

 

 

Tree-lined streets graceful homes,and shaded gardens.

 

 

 

 

The Hibner Park fountain is also a compass. It was built in 1939 and replaced an earlier fountain which had occupied the same site circa 1897.

 

Dogs, rabbits, a fox or two, and local people all enjoy this small semi-wild patch of land in the heart of the Civic Centre neighbourhood.

 

These photos help to explain my fondness for my adopted city. I've lived here for eleven years and hope to enjoy my surroundings for many more years.

 

Thoughts About Canadian Veterans - Why I'm Bothered

Be forewarned; this is a rant.

I haven't posted here in a long time. During my blogging break, my friend, The Bear, died. There was a fair bit to do after that, including sorting through more of his personal papers. He had been just a little too young to enlist in World War II, but his older brothers had both served in the Canadian forces. One was killed overseas and one returned. The Bear said his mother's grief for the lost one never abated. I was thinking about them again this morning, and about all our  Canadian Veterans*, especially after hearing the latest federal budget news.

Before I talk about my budget concerns, I'd like to say: I wish our military could only be used for peace-keeping. In an ideal world, we wouldn't need to have a military; but that is not the world we live in. Like many Canadians, I have military connections. My grandfather was a World War I Veteran, my former husband is a World War II Veteran. For many years, I  worked with  Veterans at Sunnybrook Medical Sciences Centre and later, I worked for them in various social service capacities.

I care.

When I see Veterans being patronized by the Minister of Veterans' Affairs Canada - I see red, and it's not the red of the maple leaf. And I turn red - with shame. We have enough money to keep all the Veterans' Affairs offices open - in fact, we have enough money to add more offices. It could be done, but it won't be done while the Harpercons are in office. Of course online services should be increased, but they are not accessible to all Veterans. Of course there should be more trained professionals to work with the men and women who suffer from severe physical and mental stress due to previous combat or peace-keeping traumas.  But, that is not enough support. A lump-sum payment based on what Veterans refer to as the "meat chart" for body part injuries is also not enough support. The long-term costs of caring are not always predictable. What happens when the lump sum is used up? Go ahead and guess. We have homeless Veterans. We have Veterans who commit suicide. We have dead Veterans whose families do not have enough money to bury them. The federal government has added some money to the Last Post fund to help the families of indigent dead Veterans (a needs test must be passed).  Gee, I'm proud. But - what about the living Veterans?

Don't the men and women who served in the Canadian Armed Forces deserve better services and lasting first-quality care? The only ethical answer to that question is - yes.

* I have capitalized Veterans throughout this piece as a mark of respect. 

My Windsor Visit: Going Back in order to Go Ahead

I went to Windsor on Via rail on February 4th and returned on the 12th. It might not sound like the best time for a visit, but it was. The train cooperated and even the weather cooperated. My decision to go was partly based on the half-price train fare and a reasonably priced hotel room, but mostly it was a need that's been nagging me for quite some time.

When I walked down the main drag of my home town, I discovered that Lazare's furs has closed and Shanfields Meyers, home of every china pattern and tschotske known to mankind, is in the process of closing. Several bars and restaurants have died and left untidy remnants. Cheque cashing stores with tacky neon signs have proliferated. But, I know that Windsor has dealt with boom and bust cycles for decades. Although my first view was distressing, I soon discovered a lot of hopeful signals and hopeful people during my short stay.

I frequently asked people how the city was doing and everyone I spoke to had a positive attitude.  Some were only slightly positive but still, feeling like that in February must mean something good.

I visited the Art Gallery twice, once to see the exhibitions and once to attend three presentations about migrants. It's a lovely space  and has areas where you can sit and look out over the river when you need a break from taking in the art. And, right behind the gallery a new aquatic centre is being built. 

The waterfront is a place to walk, even in the winter, if the weather is good. There are no condos or hotels on the water side of Riverside Drive. There is a long uninterrupted stretch of parkland. I could hear the chimes of the carillon on Belle Island.

The casino and its hotel are highly visible from all parts of the downtown and I was in and out of the place about four times. It was not as busy as I had expected it to be even on the day when Tony Bennett would perform in the evening.  There are legal casinos in Michigan now and that change has caused more Americans to gamble, and probably gambol at home. Detroit's population has also dropped to about 750,000. I didn't make any bets or play any of the machines. That doesn't appeal to me but what people look like and do when they are betting interests me. Some folk assume some seriously weird position.

My dining experiences were quite varied. During my visit I was able to have lunch with my sister-in-law at Rino's Kitchen. It was good and not too expensive. I also tried the cafe at the casino and wouldn't recommend it. The Keg was much better and was part of the treat-myself deal. MacDonald's was next to the hotel. The Tunnel BBQ is still near the tunnel exit and the interior is exactly as it was.  They really should fix the floor behind the cake counter.

I had to visit the main library and it is quite near the hotel. When I walked in I could see a strange machine in separate area at the front of the building. At first I thought the library had rented the space to a business but that was not the case.  The Windsor Public Library has an Espresso book machine. Yes! The machine that prints and binds paperback books.  No one is allowed to jump up and down and shout hooray in the library but I almost did. 

My grandfather's letters (from The Great War) have been whispering to me from inside my piano bench. I explained  my idea to the library staff in charge of the machine and she said it is exactly the kind of book they hope the machine will be used for.  So now I have a non-fiction project. Maybe that also explains why my fiction brain has refused to cooperate no matter how I have tried.  I need to do this first, and then see what happens.

Until the next time.

The Roast Beast and Quilts - Christmas Memories

Once upon a time but not that long ago, when my daughter was a child we enjoyed Christmas Day dinners with my mother. The table would be set with her rose-patterned Royal Albert bone china, cornflower crystal glasses and Rogers Brothers silverware. The meal was almost always roast 'beast' (eye of round) with mashed potatoes, mom's famous gravy, another vegetable or two or three, a salad that was mostly iceberg lettuce and strawberries with heavy cream to finish the feast. Of course cookies and chocolates and nuts were consumed, before and after the main event. We ate dinner sometime between 2 p.m. and 3 p.m. and then the gifts were opened. 

Because my mom's Christmas tree was small, artificial, and sat atop her cedar chest, she usually stashed any presents that wouldn't fit under the tree on the floor in a white laundry basket. Each year, there would be a quilt for me, one for my brother, and in later years, quilts for my daughter too. I miss my mother, always, but her quilts still comfort me. They represent the spirit of the holidays -  loving care.

Our holiday traditions have changed over the years, but we still enjoy the simple pleasures of sharing food, time together small gifts and loving care for one another.

May your holidays be joyful and your new year be happy and healthful.

What Is Around The Corner?

We are born with the urge  to learn, to explore, and to wonder. What is around the corner, what is under the bed, what is next in our lives? And -  if we are readers - what's next in the book?

Often I want more when I hear a  snippet of conversation; but, I never hear the outcome unless I make up my own version.  What other people may see and how they might interpret what they see is also a fascination.  Yesterday, I received a  payment from a writer I'm working with. She had given me a cheque and later decided she would make two payments at once, so she brought cash. I met her in my building's lobby. She gave me an envelope and I gave her the folded cheque.  If anyone was watching us (there's a lobby camera) our actions would be open to various interpretations.  We looked innocent but not all drug dealers look dangerous.

As for books, some are page turners but the ones I enjoy the most  pull me forward because I want to know more about the characters and not just their actions, but their thoughts.  When I read a certain type of mystery, I can skim through the gory parts looking for clues. When I read an Alice Munro story, I savour every word. When I read Anne Lamott, I cry then I laugh, sometimes over the course of three pages. It's her utter honesty that is so magnificent.

What's next in my life?  Surgery in a few days.  Afterward I'll be sticking close to home for a while. Maybe conversation will lead to a story.

What is around the corner for you?

Summer is Waving a Hot Goodbye

The Canadian National Exhibition opened last week. That's always a signal that summer is on her way out of town and out of country too. But before she goes, we'll get another blast of hot and sultry.

While that's happening, my family  is enjoying the Great Canadian Outdoors, eastern style. Frank, my eldest grandson, is camping on the lake near Port Burwell and Sam, my younger grandson, is on a five day river raft expedition down the Dumaine River in Quebec.   My daughter and I  enjoyed a campfire in  her back yard on Wednesday evening. I won't name the location in case the fire pit bylaw enforcers, whoever they are, find out about this nefarious activity.

Also, the Viking and I were able to escape from the city on the weekend. It was a perfect day for driving through the countryside.  On our return journey, we stopped in Stratford and strolled down the main street stepping into several shops along the way. I had to go into the bookstore of course. How could anyone not go into a book store called The Book Vault?  I was delighted when I found three books I couldn't resist. The Story of Yiddish by Neal Karlen, The Highly Selective dictionary for the Extraordinarily Literate, by Eugene Ehrlich, 

           [pssst I don't claim to be extraordinarily literate - perhaps the dictionary will help.]

and Colombo's All-Time Great Canadian Quotations, by John Robert Columbo.    All those books for $15.72, harmonized sales tax included. Obviously they did not sell at their original prices.

I had not read any poetry in quite a while but then on a brief visit to the library, Impact: the Titanic poems, by Billeh Nickerson jumped into my hand.  Powerful, moving, and yet spare, his poems capture the people, the ship, and  the sinking.  I had to read slowly with many breaks between the poems in order to appreciate all of them. 

At the moment, I have a paying assignment and it is a challenge.  There are certain hazards to proofreading and editing erotica.  You can guess what they may be.

Until the  next time.

Mysterious Stuff, or Why Does Anyone Believe These Things?

There are days, many days,  when I can't understand Americans. There are also days when I can't understand my fellow Canadians.
Because Super Tuesday is very close, let me first talk about the American mysteries.  To date, there are  only four GOP candidates for the presidency of the U.S.A. who may have a shot at winning.  Why would a person with any sense of how the real world operates want to vote for any of them? 

If any one of the four is chosen to run or, worse yet, if any one of them actually becomes the president, the average American will suffer.  Corporations will gain even more power than the overwhelming amount they have now. The rich will inevitably grow fatter and the poor, well they can just shuffle off into further obscurity and eventually the type of poverty the third world knows well.  The poor and uninsured needn't look for  pregnancy contraception, or for choice afterward and that is only the beginning. They have been told over and over again that all government roles are bad and  low, low, lower, lowest taxes and smaller government (hah!)  will benefit everyone. 

Why do they believe the lie that all taxes are evil? And, where do they think the money to support  services provided by the government will come from? 
Why are so many people persuaded that the government should get out of the business of providing any social programs? 

Americans are generous, but charities can't be expected to deal with every social problem. Will there be a return to the Victorian concept of work houses?
Why do Americans, and Canadians too, believe that anyone can advise them on what the stock market will do? No one knows, let me repeat that, no one knows. Most trading is done by advanced computer programs. Numbers are god in that game.

The Canadian federal government is currently CRAP   (Conservative Reform Alliance Party).
And because they are c r a p, they are bringing in legislation that has already proved to be a) useless, or b) harmful, or c) both.  A couple of examples: super prisons, mandatory sentences. 

Why did even a minority of Canadians believe electing Harper would be a good idea?

Why do some Canadians believe that further belt tightening will somehow stimulate the economy and that we will all benefit from the trickle down effect of lower corporate taxes? 

That has been proven to be wicked nonsense.

Maybe we have fallen down the tunnel into wonderland.

Till next time.

My Liebster Blog Award

My blog was honoured with a Liebster blog award given by my friend, Susan Barclay.  There's a lovely little heart logo. However; incompetent as I am, I"m unable to transfer the pretty thing to the top of this page. After hours of effort, and various attempts to deal with the new Google E blogger format and to find out how to edit saved drafts, you can find the symbol at the bottom of this post   Anyway, this is award is for interesting blogs with  under 500 followers . Now that I've received it, I'm asked to nominate five other blogs including the blog of the person who named my blog.

So, here are some blogs that I find interesting. --

Susan Barclay's blog, Honey from the Hive is here :

http://www.notesfrominisfree.blogspot.com/

Jan Markley's blog is always worth reading and frequently her sense of humour shines through.  She writes youug adult fiction.  Her titles to date:  Dead Frog on the Porch, and Dead Bird Through The Cat Door. 

http://www.janmarkley.blogspot.com/

The Falcata Times blog features news, book  reviews, and interviews with writers of Sci-Fi Fantasy, Historical, YA, Horror, Crime and other genre fiction.

http://falcatatimes.blogspot.com/

Darcie Friesen Hossack, the author of Mennonites Don't Dance, also has blog about food, Nice Fat Gurdie is charming and informative.

http://nicefatgurdie.wordpress.com/


My dear friend, Lori Hahnel, the author of Love Minus Zero, a novel, and Nothing Sacred, a short story collection, blogs about her news and views here at Tales From Behind the Calgary Hotel.


http://lorihahnel.blogspot.com/






Until next time, or whenever I sort out how to deal with this new format.  Cheers!

Harper to Cut Social Programs. Is Austerity the Answer? Not Bloomin' Likely

Once again, seniors are being touted as the villains in the political story. If this was a murder mystery plot, I'd say it was way too trite. I have news for the Conservatives (and the Republicans). Older people are very unlikely to quietly agree to anything that diminishes government benefits. The ruling party would do well to remember that a larger proportion of seniors vote than any other segment of the population.


Are Canadian seniors doing well financially? Between the 1990's and the 2000's the rate of poverty among seniors rose according to the Conference Board of Canada and, it continues to rise. Older single women form the largest group of poor seniors. We should not find that acceptable. At the same time, many work places are eliminating defined benefit pension plans and opting for defined contribution plans, or in many cases no pension plan at all. Oh happiness for companies, but not for their employees.

I hear someone muttering, you need to save and put money in RRSP's. I reply, it's good to remember that not everyone makes a wage that provides them with enough money left over to save significant amounts and furthermore, one crisis; for example, being out of work for more than a few months can wipe out the savings of a low-wage earner in less than a trice.

So is the answer to work longer and retire later? That may be a part of the answer. However; it is not easy to find work if you lose your job when you are over 50, or even worse, between 60 and 65. If you do find work, it will likely pay less and be less reliable. We have not yet reached the point where there are way too many jobs and too few people to fill them (except for a few trades and occupations). That is one among many reasons for maintaining and enhancing the Guaranteed Income Supplement for low income seniors. By the way, low income seniors are consumers too. We buy things, not as many things as before but we do spend and that also puts money into the economy. That brings me to my next question.

What is the role of the federal government? If Mr. Harper has his way, the primary role always will be to support business the most. Damn the torpedoes (and the environmentalists too) and full speed ahead says Captain Queeg. Social programs and health care are drag on the economy and cost too much. We will cut costs by slashing in those areas first. Look, look, we have oil and gas, and water too. Don't worry we'll get rid of pesky regulations. And we'll cut costs. Forget Toys are Us - that was last year when we wanted planes and military toys. Our new slogan will be Austerity is Us. Plus, low low low corporate tax rates and lots of business loans.

If the austerity budget cuts are deep and sharp, is that the right thing to do now? I think that as the world works it's way into another major recession/depression, more austerity is not the answer. Governments that can spend, should spend major amounts on infrastructure . (Note that Mr. Harper has repeatedly said that we are in better shape than other first world countries) This would increase employment and boost the economy. When times improve, and they would, then governments can pay down debt.

A footnote of sorts. Once upon a time, actually, it wasn't all that long ago, many Canadians worried about Western Alienation. We kept hearing, The West wants in. Well, news flash, Eastern Alienation is rising and my Canada which does include Quebec, is not in favour of an American style government - for the rich, by the rich. The social contract is at the heart of Canadian identity. At least I think it is.

What do you think?

I'm In First Gear, Again

It's been a long while between blog updates. Now that December has finally ended and the darkest part of the year has passed; I've restarted my writing engine. A lot happened in the last month of 2011. I moved my friend, The Bear, into a long-term care facility on December 1st. Everything had to be done lickety-splickety [I know that should say lickety-split] , or even faster and thanks to The Viking's help, it all worked out. I was limp toast by the end of the day, but The Bear adjusted easily to the change of location. The staff at his new home are very good with him and I'm extremely thankful for that.

There have been changes within my family too. Life has not been easy for any of us in December, but the New Year can bring with it a fresh approach and renewed hope for a better future.

Yes, I have some New Year's resolutions, but they are too modest to mention in any detail. Mainly, I plan to move forward with my writing projects at whatever speed I can manage, with occasional short side trips and detours. For example; comments on American politics might appear on my blog, if I am able to make them without over-ranting. Also, now that we have GO train service between Kitchener and Toronto, and, now that The Bear is finally settled; I may be able to go out of town for more than a day at a time.

Blessings to all of you for 2012.

A Private in the 'Great War'

My grandfather, John Wesley Abray, served in World War One. He was one of the many thousands of Canadians who volunteered to enlist and became members of the CEF (Canadian Expeditionary Forces). He joined in 1915 and I have copy of his Attestation Paper issued by the Canadian Over-Seas Expeditionary Force. At that time, he was 20 years old, single, listed his occupation as well driller, and lived in the village of Highgate Ontario. He answered the question "Do you understand the nature and terms of your engagement?" with yes.

John had absolutely no idea what that yes meant.

When he swore his Oath of Allegiance to His Majesty, King George the Fifth and His Heirs and Successors, he also swore to obey all orders of all the Generals and Officers set over him. The document notes that he was 5' 5" tall had a 37 inch chest, a fair complexion, grey eyes, and fair hair. His religion is listed as either Methodist or Congregationalist - the typed-in X straddles the line. The Certificate of Medical Examination says "He can see at the required distance [not listed] with either eye, his heart and lungs are healthy he has the free use of his joints and limbs and declares that he is not subject to fits of any description." A very cursory exam to be sure, but troops from the colonies were badly needed.

Like many men who grew up in rural areas, my grandfather had skills that would prove to be useful during the war. He was already very good shot and belonged to a local rifle club. He was familiar with horses and mules and he was good at fixing machinery and drawing maps. He could also cook and sew, if necessary.

He received his training in London Ontario and then his Battalion was shipped overseas. A lot of the letters that he sent home gave his location as simply "somewhere in France." The field postcards said almost nothing. Letters home were regularly opened and censored, but one letter John sent to his father escaped that fate. In it, he explains that he was at the Ypres Salient and after that he was at the Somme front. A lot of his friends were killed or maimed, or lost their minds.

John had been one of the soldiers who delivered supplies and ammunition to the front every night, after that he had been the driver of a machine gun carriage and later still he had been posted in the advance trenches [too close to the German line to be hit - he wrote].

Eventually, he was wounded but not too seriously according to his letters. He was sent England to recover and when he was well he was sent back to France and then to Belgium. He was wounded again and returned to England. He finally arrived back in Canada in 1919.

He never forgot how very lucky he was to come home. He married his girl, Vera. She had waited faithfully for him to return. Eventually they settled in Windsor. I'm blessed to have lived with my grandparents from the age of seven until I was almost twenty. Although my grandfather died in 1963, I'll always honour his memory.

Who will you honour on November 11, 2011?

Halloween Approacheth. Do You Need "Spackle" to Sparkle?

The last day of October has multiple meanings for me. It's All Hallows Eve, or Hallow e'en and it's the anniversary of the day I married my former and only husband. There was not a lot of demand for the use of the church that afternoon in 1963, and we did not have a Hallow e'en themed reception or Rocky Horror Picture Show type costumes. Instead, there was cake and tea as befitted a family with Methodist roots and, at that time, a lot of older teetotal relatives.

In fact, there was a fair bit of family frowning about Hallow e'en customs. When I was a child and my great-grandmother lived with us, she terrorized the neighbourhood children by inviting them in and then sternly demanding that they perform a trick before they could leave. Quite a few of the children left without doing anything, and so they collected no candy. I guess that saved some money. And thrift is a virtue, or so I'm told. I truly do not recall ever dressing up and going trick or treating, door to door.

When my daughter was old enough to be out for Hallow e'en she quite enjoyed the experience, or so she led me to believe and when she had children, they also participated in the ritual until they were in their teens. I tend to think that trick or treating should be restricted to children twelve and under, but perhaps that is just my crotchety protestant background getting in the way of what might be appropriate for this generation.

Hallow e'en is definitely a time when people can go all out with their make-up and costumes, the more outrageous, or sexy or scary, the better and that is my segue to - Do You Need Spackle to Sparkle. Yesterday at the supermarket checkout counter, I was possessed by one of those small urges that lead to small regrets later. I bought a copy of Good Housekeeping magazine. I still don't know why I did it and must beg to be excused for such uncharacteristic behaviour. As many of you no doubt know, such magazines can often be perused in under ten minutes. There was one legitimate article about Gabby Giffords (the congress woman). Then there was this faux article - Is Your Makeup Aging You? Hmm, well, all I use is lipstick, occasionally, and blusher, once in a great while, but maybe it could learn something. I did. I learned that there is a face moisturizer or "a hydrating primer ... Laura Geller Spackle Under Make-Up Primer... original or luminescent." I had to reread the promo to make sure I wasn't learning about crack filler and wall paint. If you are going to paint your face for a Hallow e'en party the luminescent base would be appropriate ($27.50).

I plan to stay home and read a book on Hallow e'en night. What are you doing?

If I Could

I wonder what would happen if I could give Mark Carney, Governor of the Bank of Canada, and Paul Krugman, American economist and previous Nobel Prize winner, a magic potion which they could distribute to international corporate CEO's, international bankers, and political leaders. The potion would be designed to open the minds of those who imbibed it.

And so ... Bankers would discover that reasonable regulation, as proposed by Mr. Carney, would not ruin them. Political leaders would discover that too much austerity, at the wrong time, leads only to more and more austerity, and less and less ability to improve the world economies, as Paul Krugman has shown (NY Times, and books ) and read his Op Ed on Rabbit Hole Economics http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/14/opinion/rabbit-hole-economics.html?partner=rssnyt&emc=rss . What would CEO's discover? Perhaps they might find out that they are frail and human. Although, the jury may still be out on that one.

If I could, I would have Dick Cheney and George Bush drink a potion that would give them the same sensations that being water boarded caused in the prisoners they agreed could be tortured. Do you suppose that would change their tiny minds?

A Dress Code for People with Dementias? The R Word

On Tuesday, I escorted The Bear to his new quarters. He is now in a secure (locked) unit in the same retirement home. It's not long-term care but it is a safer environment for him. Everything happened very quickly and fortunately I was able to keep him occupied while his furniture was relocated. I persuaded him to visit the roof-top patio on the second floor. He had always wanted to see "where the eagles are" - decorative posts that look somewhat like birds when you view them from the courtyard. Anyone can take the elevator up to the secure area, but you need to know the secret code in order to return to the main floor.

I have only a small amount of guilt about not telling him in advance that he would be moving to a new room. Bears, particularly grumpy old bears, hate change of any kind. To avoid a tantrum, I made sure the room looks as much like his old room as possible. And so far, that seems to have worked.

I was able to have lunch with him and check out the other people who live in the secure unit. I noticed that several of the ladies, yes I must refer to them as ladies, looked at me askance and frowned at The Bear. He was wearing a vee neck tee shirt with a polo shirt over it and, um "leisure pants" aka pajama bottoms and slippers; and I was in jeans, We did not fit in with the rest of the crowd [ I should note here that the base cost for living on this unit is almost $3900 per month and that does not include drugs, incontinence products, and other things ], perhaps that explains the toniness of attire I observed. The Bear will continue to wear pajama bottoms because he likes them and can mostly remember how to put them on and they allow air to circulate. Ahem. That is important when a fella can't remember when to whiz.

Moving on to a completely different subject. The world is in a recession. But ssssh, no one is supposed to use the evil R word. Signs are everywhere but never mind - the VSP's "Very Serious People" as Paul Krugman, (read his column in the NY Times) refers to them will fix everything by imposing more austerity. Yup, that is the answer folks. But don't tax the very rich - in fact give them more breaks - and they'll be gracious unto y'all. Wanna bet on that one?

Until the next time.