Posted on January 24, 2015 under Storytelling with one comment

Our daily bread

 

 

People are living longer.  Due to the marvels of modern medicine, many of us are also leading healthier and more active lives.  According to statistics, centenarians are among the fastest growing members of the population.  For most of us, living to the age of 80 while remaining sharp, fit and well would be an honorable goal.  But what if you worked in the same profession for 80 years?  Now that would be something to boast about.

The call to religious life in Nova Scotia was very strong sixty to seventy years ago, when joining a religious order was revered and, in many households, expected.  It was not uncommon to have at least one son called to the priesthood and a daughter seeking a spiritual journey as a nun.  It was a source of pride for the family and the community.  In many cases, young people went directly from high school to the seminary or the convent.  Families were large back then and after marriages, ordinations and final vows, there was still a spinster or bachelor living at home to look after Father and Mother in their dotage.

Consider the case of Sister C.  She joined the Congregation of Notre Dame when she was twenty, and recently celebrated her 100^th birthday.  She devoted her life to her congregation and the countless lives she influenced along the way.  She had a variety of skills sets which she shared willingly.  Cooking wasn’t one of them.

It is not totally surprising for someone like her not to have picked up some cooking skills along life’s road.  But that’s the way it was when she found herself cooking a meal for the rector of a parish in small town Alberta many years ago.  They had known each other for a long time, and when she stopped by one day on his housekeeper’s day off, she offered to prepare supper for him.

And, what a meal it was.

She decided that a full roast beef dinner with all the trimmings would suitably impress Father Leo.  She busied herself with the preparations as he tended to his duties in the community.  He arrived home to wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen.  The dining room table was  fit for royalty, with a centerpiece, crisply pressed table cloth and matching napkins.

Candles were lit, grace was said and the meal commenced.  Sister C. had thought that a nice goblet of red wine might be appropriate.  Years earlier, on frequent trips across the border, she had seen friends and family members purchase wine and beer in grocery stores.  Such was not the case in Canada as she was soon to find out.  They toasted each other, wishing mutual good health.

Father Leo drank deeply and before the contents of the glass hit his stomach, he knew that something was terribly wrong.  His eyes watered slightly.  Sister C. expressed alarm and wondered if he had been stricken with some malady.  He politely asked her what brand of wine she had purchased.  She grabbed the bottle off the kitchen counter and brought it to the table.  He peered over his progressive lenses and read to himself: Aged Red Wine Vinegar.  He declined a second round as they moved on to the main course.

The presentation of the roast beef dinner would have impressed the folks at the Michelin Guide, who rate fine dining establishments.

Father Leo cut into the beef and made sure that it had a healthy dose of gravy.  Once again, he recoiled, resisting the urge to gag.  “Sister.  Did you put any flour in the gravy to thicken it?”  “Why, certainly, Father.  The bag is right over there on the counter.”  “His head spun around and his eyes became the size of saucers.  The other day he had been doing some home repairs in the kitchen.  He had filled some holes with Pollyfilla.  He had forgotten to put the bag back in the box.

Thankfully she had purchased dessert from a local bakery.

On a return trip years later, Sister C. offered to cook again.  Father Leo didn’t have the heart to say no. When she offered him some homemade bread as a starter, he quietly bowed his head, reciting the Lord’s Prayer.  When he came to the part that said “Give us this day our daily bread”, he lifted his eyes skyward and said quietly, “Only if it’s made with flour”.

Posted on January 21, 2015 under Storytelling with no comments yet

Hardly waiting room reading material

 

 

“Life is a highway, I wanna ride it all night long”

Life is a Highway – Tom Cochrane

A long road trip in a car provides a lot of time for reflection.  Recently, I took a 10,000 kilometer transcontinental tour with my thirty-something son, Peter.  We chatted, we listened to tunes; we marvelled at the ever changing landscape and, for long stretches, were left with our own thoughts.  And there were surprises along the way, some of them welcome and others, not so.  Having some sort of mechanical problem is almost a given on a trip of this length.

It is every parent’s dream to take a road trip in the company of an adult child.  Perhaps more challenging but no less rewarding is an adventure with a teenager.  One of the more famous accounts of such a journey was penned by Robert M. Pirsig in his classic 70’s book entitled, “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance”.  Prior to our trip my brother handed me his copy of the book to read while we traversed the continent.

In this book, the author takes an extended journey, by motorcycle, with his 13 year old boy.  It is an interesting read dealing with travel, the intricacies of maintaining a motorcycle, and his growing understanding of this adolescent.  Yes. It is the classic story of bonding between a father and his son.  But it is much more.  It delves into many deep philosophical topics.  By times this book can be heavy slogging.  I probably should have taken more than one philosophy course at university.

We had just crossed an amazing stretch of the bayous in Louisiana and were nearing the border with Texas when we heard a sound emanating from the back left wheel area of Pete’s vehicle.  Fortuitously, we were only a few miles away from the Visitor’s Centre of the “Lone Star State”.  Luckily, one person in the car some familiarity with auto maintenance.  (Hint: it wasn’t me!)  Peter quickly found the culprit.  A bracket that holds the shock absorber to the body of the car had become detached.

Through the magic of technology we were able to take a picture of the problem and forward it to three friends who are “do it yourself” mechanics.  Within minutes we ascertained that the best course of action was to take the car to the nearest town and get it fixed.  Beaumont, Texas was a short 20 minute drive away, so we hit the road secure in the knowledge that our problem wasn’t major and could probably be remedied quickly and easily.

One small problem: this all occurred on New Year’s Day and the chance of finding a mechanic was as unlikely as finding a needle in a haystack.  We checked into a hotel and humoured ourselves by making a few phone calls, hoping for a miracle.  None was to be found.

The next day, we were given the name of a reputable automotive shop and were at its doorstep when it opened for business.  The manager was a great guy.  Much to our relief, he confirmed that the problem was fairly minor and that the remedy was straightforward and not terribly expensive.  Those two words were music to my ears.  He called the three local auto parts dealers and regrettably, none of them had the part in stock.  It required shipping from Houston and would be delivered by 3:00 P.M. that very day.

I went back to the motel to read some of my book while Peter found a nine hole golf course just down the road.  After checking out of the hotel, we still had a bit of time to kill so we grabbed a coffee at McDonald’s and headed to a driving range, conveniently located two minutes away from the repair shop.

I like my coffee black.  It usually takes several minutes before I take the first sip, as the beverage is usually served scalding hot.  I had the cup perched between my legs while searching for something when someone cut in front of us, forcing my son to apply sudden and unexpected pressure to the brakes.  Evidently the brakes were working fine.

The contents of the cup hurtled forward, landing on the back of my right foot.  Within seconds, a large red welt appeared.  While painful, the thought of where that cup could have landed gave me a great deal of solace.

The call came from Dustin, the manager of the auto repair shop.  He let me know that the part had arrived and was ready for installation.  While Peter honed his technique at the driving range, I drove across the street to wait while the car was fixed.

The waiting room was large and every seat was filled. It was obvious that I was the only “come from away” in a roomful of locals. I needn’t have worried that the other customers were even remotely interested in my presence.  No.  They had much bigger fish to fry.  They were watching the television, a large flat screen with the volume cranked.  And what were they watching with rapt attention?  The Maury Povich show.

Now, “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” takes a fair bit of concentration to read.  Each page has to be consumed and digested.  The preferred place to study a tome like this would be the public library or a deserted island.  I was having a very difficult time concentrating on the deep meaning of life with two women screaming “You’re nothing but a whore!” as Maury revelled in the role of referee.

I retrieved the car and headed back to the driving range, enjoying the smooth, quiet ride.  Perhaps daytime talk shows should come equipped with shock absorbers too.

Posted on January 19, 2015 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

Note the huge tree hanging over the street at the top of the hill

 

 

Walking the hilly streets of San Francisco a few weeks ago brought back vivid memories of the 1968 Steve McQueen movie, “Bullitt.” It was filmed in San Fran and was memorable for some of the most amazing chase scenes. If you have a couple of minutes, take a peek at this YouTube clip.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=31JgMAHVeg0

So, Betty decided to abandon me this weekend.  Imagine, choosing a grandchild over a spouse. Unthinkable, really ! After getting over the shock of being alone and forced to watch hockey games and a couple of football games , I decided to buckle down and get some things done.

The big trip is over and I decided that if I was going to do a major story, this might just be the best time, while it’s fresh in my mind and while I have no one home. As you might imagine, I kept a daily log of the trip that I updated at the end of each day… just odds and ends and things that caught my attention. While I have a reasonably good memory, It’s not possible to remember everything  I saw in the 17 days that we were on the road.

I started writing Saturday morning at 7:00 and decided that I would need a healthy dose of discipline if I was going to get it done in one weekend. I went to the stove and set the timer for 45 minutes and got started. When the timer went off, I stopped and gave myself a 15 minute break. I repeated this until noon and then took an hour lunch break. Two more hours and I was making too many mistakes , so I shut it down for the day. I got up Sunday and three hours later, it was completed. The final word count will be around 5200 words. Considering that most of my stories are in the 500 word range, this was by far my biggest project to date. It will take quite a while to edit and then I plan to release it in its entirety. I am hoping to include several of Peter’s awesome photos. “ Transcontinental Travel Tips – A Journey With My Son.” Stay tuned. You might need two cups of coffee to get through this one.

I am starting to formulate a story about aging. In many ways, those of us in our sixties ( and beyond ) ,  are probably as confident as we’re ever going to get. We’ve seen a lot, done a lot and made a lot of mistakes…. at least I have. We are, by and large, comfortable in our own skin.

But there are other parts that sometimes leave us wondering. We’re not as sure on our feet, especially in the winter time. Our vision is not as sharp and many of us dread night time driving. And our hearing is not as acute as it once was.  Some of our spouses would argue that our hearing hasn’t been sharp for a long time! Anyway, think I’ll take a stab at this topic in the next week or so.

Oh yes, some of you were wondering why Peter has decided to spend the winter months in Victoria. The last three days around here pretty well sums it up. – 30 on Saturday and + 9 and rain forecast for today. Say no more.

Have a great week.