Posted on February 16, 2015 under Monday Morning Musings with 2 comments

Slim pickings at St.Ninian’s Cathedral on a stormy Sunday

 

 

Yes. Most of you are getting a holiday today as Nova Scotia rolls out Heritage Day for the first time. But this does not mean you get a break from shovelling snow as we dig out after yet another winter storm.

So, how did you spend Valentines Day? Were you wined and dined? Were you showered with gifts of chocolate , flowers or perhaps jewelry? Were you feted at one of Antigonish’s excellent restaurants? We are still trying to get our house ready to go on the market again so we spent most of Valentines Day at the house packing and purging… and shovelling snow off of our decks in anticipation of doing it again today. We thought about going out for dinner but were whipped and still in our scruffy clothes so we opted for some food from the deli at Sobey’s. We plunked ourselves down on the couch and watched two episodes of Mad Men.

We also took advantage of arguably the best day of the winter to walk around The Landing.

As part of the grand purge, we donated in excess of 100 old 33 vinyl records to the Angus L. Library. Many of these records , belonging to Betty’s aunt , are over 70 years old and in mint condition.  Thanks to Shane for his help lifting the boxes which were extremely heavy. I suspect that a few of you are still holding on to some well worn vinyl.

Like most people, I try to live in the present. But it is hard not to reminisce every so often. For some reason, I was humming the McCartney tune, “When I’m 64” on the weekend. This is not unusual as most of us have a tune or two spinning around inside our heads most of the time. It dawned on me that I will turn 64 this summer.  What do I like about being “almost 64?” Well, I will tell you in a story that I wrote about this subject. In many ways, older people are more confident than they were in their youth. We are, by and large, quite comfortable in our own skin. There is very little to prove at this stage in the game. We know how and when  to pick our battles and to not sweat the small stuff.

But in some ways, we are less confident. Our vision and hearing is not as acute, we are not as sure footed as we once were ( especially on icy sidewalks )and we are showing signs of forgetfulness. Don’t you absolutely hate struggling for people and place names? I am not lamenting the aging process… merely stating the obvious.

It also dawned on me that it will be 45 years this June since I graduated from high school with some of the most amazing and talented people I have ever known. Cue up Stan Rogers “ Forty-Five Years.” While I was having a fit of nostalgia about the prospects of turning 64, I thought, “what the hell,” I’ll write a story about graduation while I’m at it. Sixty two of us walked across the stage at the “St. Ninian Culture and Recreation Centre” on June 13^th. 1970, the last graduating class of the old Antigonish High School.  A classmate sent me some photos from grad night. Priceless! I guess it’s time to start planning our 50^th. Coming soon, “ Forty-Five Years From Now.”

I’m thinking about having another get together at the Prissy Pig in the next few weeks to swap stories. Hopefully some of you will be able to make it.

Also, mark June 7^th. on your calendars. There will be an evening of story telling, music and culture at the Schwartz auditorium in aid of “A Partnership in Caring.” This is a group of people who go to Africa to provide help to those who need it most. Hopefully we won’t have to worry about the weather come June.

Have a great week.

Posted on February 14, 2015 under Storytelling with no comments yet

It can get pretty steamy in the desert

( Peter MacDonald photo )

 

 

We should all remember our honeymoons.   If we don’t, we’re in a heap of trouble with our partners.  A vacation, usually involving travel to some exotic location, is the norm these days.  And many people combine their wedding and honeymoon and do it all at once at a resort.  For others it might be just a few days off, and others forego this tradition altogether and return to work almost immediately.

Many a romance and subsequent wedding were incubated while attending university.  Several of my classmates from St. F.X. met their partners during their undergrad years.   More than a few got married shortly after receiving their diplomas.  Thousands of weddings have been celebrated at the university chapel, including my own.  Our honeymoon consisted of two nights at the in-law’s cottage then back to the daily grind.  The real honeymoon occurred ten years later, when we took our first real vacation together after farming out the four kids to family and friends.

I ran into an old buddy the other day and he related the following romantic tale to me.  Two young graduates, proudly sporting their X rings, were married in 1964.  For their honeymoon a trip south of the border was arranged; a gift from relatives who lived in Tucson, Arizona.  With much anticipation, they left Cape Breton with another couple who had been joined in matrimony the previous year.  None of these young people had done any serious travelling, unless you count jaunts from Glace Bay to New Waterford and back.

The quartet was handed the keys to the groom’s father’s brand new car (a Dodge Polaris) and a road map.  Young people today are so much more sophisticated than their counterparts from 50 years ago, with easy access to information.  You can map out a trip, make all the travel arrangements and rent a vehicle with a few clicks of an electronic device.  You can program a GPS to get you safely to your destination.  You can also check the weather.

Now, Arizona can be chilly at certain times of the year but in the dog days of the summer, it`s a totally different kettle of fish.  It’s not always 115° F but it tends to hover around the 100° F most of the time.  The further south they went the warmer it got, but surely there is nothing better than having the windows down with the wind blowing your hair around.  As it turned out, there was something better.

They stopped at a gas station in Texas.  There wasn’t a breath of air and a temperature gauge on the side of the service station was registering 112 F°.  But when you’re young and in love, you hardly notice such trivial things.  As they eased back on to the interstate, they noticed that most cars bearing Texas licence plates were traveling with their windows up.  Well, when in Texas, do as the Texans do.   They decided to roll up their windows for the duration of the trip across the desert into Arizona.  None of the vehicle’s occupants complained, despite moments of delirium and the constant need for water breaks.

They spent a few pleasant days with the new bride’s extended family.   One evening they were all invited out to dinner in the neighborhood, by a family that was quite well to do.   They had recently purchased a new car, with all the bells and whistles.  Their host offered to take the four Cape Bretoners for a little spin.  They had barely left the yard with all windows up, when they felt the loveliest cool breeze wafting through the interior of the vehicle.  To say that they were mystified would be an understatement.  Moments later, they heard about air conditioning for the first time in their lives.

The visitors from Cape Breton looked at each other sheepishly.

On the return trip to Canada, they kept the windows rolled down until they hit the Canso Causeway.  It was the tail end of a Nor’ Easter and the waves were high.  A few deep breaths and they were baptized with sea spray … and knew they were home.

Posted on February 9, 2015 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

Sometimes, ya just have to color

 

 

In case you haven’t noticed, it’s winter . In some ways, it’s like an old fashioned winter with the significant accumulations of snow , but 50 years ago, I don’t recall the wild swing in temperatures. It would snow in December and get cold and would remain that way until April. Depending on who you’re talking to, you either hate winter or you embrace it. I saw some pictures of a friend ( 50 ish? ) who was trying snowshoeing for the first time and lots of people have been enjoying skiing and snowmobiling. Global warming? Questionable. Climate change? Absolutely!

It’s human nature to comment on the weather but from the relentless chorus of whining, you would think that we lived in the tropics and that snow, sleet and frigid temperatures were foreign to our climate. I don’t hate winter but I love it less every year, especially after taking a pretty good spill on the ice the other day. Might I suggest a trip to the hospital to visit the sick and dying to get a bit of perspective?

Do you know what a nonagenarian is? If it was spelled “nanagenarian”, I might have guessed that it had something to do with being an elderly grandmother. I’m partially right. People in their nineties are called nonagenarians. I am reluctant to call anybody 90+ “elderly” any more as people ( most of them woman ) are living healthy, vibrant lives. Our next door neighbor turned 90 last weekend and if ever there was a poster child for aging, then she certainly fills the bill. She is agile, bright and witty. The storm last Friday didn’t keep her from going out to dinner with her children. I know several other “nonas” who are doing extremely well. They are a source of inspiration. To all of them I say “ lang may yer lum reek.”

I posted a picture of my back yard on FB last week and it received a lot of comments. Our apartment abuts the Brierly Brook and on the other side of the river lies the “salt ponds.” As children we spent thousands of hours there skating and playing hockey. We would show up after school, scrape the ice and play until supper. After supper ( and homework? ), we would be back at it and play until exhaustion set in. The moon provided natural lighting. I had forgotten this but “Big Alex” reminded me that we used rubber boots as goal posts. When conditions were perfect and the field was covered with a thick layer of perfectly smooth ice, it was not uncommon to have to skate a very long way to retrieve an errant puck. Yes indeed, it was a much simpler and joyous time.

Last week’s move was very challenging to say the least. Mind you, when you choose to move in February, you “play the cards you’re dealt.”  When the last of the boxes were moved, I decided to pen a story so that I would never forget this week. Most sensible people would quickly try to erase this from their memory banks forever. I haven’t been accused of being sensible lately, if ever. “Court Street Blues” is an account of moving in less than ideal conditions.

Have a great week.