Posted on March 7, 2015 under Storytelling with no comments yet

 

 

Bourbon Street, New Orleans New Year’s Eve

( Peter MacDonald photo )

 

Tip # 7:  Always carry your passport with you

I’m probably a bit paranoid when it comes to this topic, but I carried my passport with me at all times when we weren’t in the car.  Any time we stopped for gas, a bathroom break, a rest area, tourist centre or hotel, I made a point of having my passport in my “man bag”.  Ladies, your purse will do just fine.  The United States, like so many countries in the world these days, is extremely security conscious.

What are the chances of finding a room in New Orleans on any given day?  Pretty good if you’re Bill Gates.   For the rest of us mortals, affordable hotel rooms are at a premium in the “Big Easy” at the best of times.   New Year’s Eve is not the best of times.  Throw in a National Collegiate football semi-final on New Year’s Day and finding any accommodations was going to be a challenge.

Enter … Facebook.

Tip # 8: Facebook is your friend on a long trip

Like most people, I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook.  But when you are travelling, it’s like having an entire of community of people along for the ride.  Early on the morning of December 31^st, I put out an APB on Facebook.  Did anyone know of anyone who lived in or near New Orleans?  Within the hour, we had secured a place 15 minutes from the French Quarter.  An old family friend was bicycling through Viet Nam and happened to stop to check her messages.  When she saw my plea, she contacted her sister and just like that, we had a place to lay our heads down for the night.  For a full blown description of New Year’s Eve in New Orleans, check out my website for the story “ A Taste of Bourbon”.

Tip # 9: Best jambalaya in Texas: Floyd’s Restaurant in Beaumont

I’m not very good at describing sounds, especially when it comes to automobiles.  Back in the day, I could recognize a screeching fan belt and, when you have a problem with brake pads; it’s pretty easy to determine what’s wrong.  The sound coming from the rear left wheel on the driver’s side came out of nowhere as we neared the end of the bayous in Louisiana.  It was our good fortune to be only a half hour away from the Texas border and the promise of a Visitors Centre.  The bad news: it was New Year’s Day.

Pete did a quick inspection of the car and determined that the problem was with a bracket that holds the shock absorber in place.  It had become disconnected from the body of the car.  Please refer to Tip # 5.  Within minutes, a picture of the offending object was sent to three back yard mechanics that we knew from home.  The consensus was that it was safe to drive a short distance but would need repair before venturing any further.

We knew that the repair wasn’t going to happen on New Year’s Day, so we checked into our hotel and received a recommendation for a restaurant just up the road.  If you ever find yourself in Beaumont, Texas, go to Floyd’s Restaurant.  World class jambalaya, amazing desserts and some of the friendliest wait staff you’ll find anywhere.

Tip # 10: If your car breaks down in Beaumont, Texas, go see Dustin at Precision Tune Auto Centre

I realize that this is a very specific tip.   I could tell from the moment we talked with this guy that he was honest and sincere.

Did you know that the Henry Homburg Municipal Golf Course (located in Beaumont) was the first golf course in the United States that permitted African Americans as members?  Neither did I.  Pete gleaned this information while playing 9 holes (11 actually) … for $9.00.  He decided to take some time to play a round while waiting for a part to be delivered from Houston to the Auto Centre.   I curled up with my book (tough reading as it is heavy on philosophy – not one of my favorite subjects in university).

Full details of our day in Beaumont can be found on my website in the story “Zen and Now”.

We encountered the worst weather of our trip heading into Austin, Texas.  It was a very dark night with driving rain and a bit of fog.  We came upon four separate accidents only a few miles apart.  Our guess was a combination of driving too fast for the conditions (80 MPH was the speed limit in Texas) and driver inattention.  This would have been a particularly bad night to be driving and texting.

( To be continued )

Posted on March 5, 2015 under Thursday Tidbits with one comment

Her glasses match the sign

( printed with permission )

 

Isn’t this simply the best sign …ever? I bumped into D.T. yesterday and she was toting this sign around with her. It seems like every other post on Facebook has someone holding a glass of wine or talking about having a glass of wine. By the way, for you other boring teetotalers like me, there is a very good non-alcoholic wine that you can get at the grocery store. It’s called Carl Jung. In case you think Carl was/is a vintner, think again. Mr. Jung was a noted psychiatrist and psychotherapist who developed, among other things, the notion of “the collective unconscious.” Stands to reason that a brand of wine would be named after him.

I noticed that it snowed somewhere in Florida the other day . Can you imagine the depths of despair you would be feeling , to finally escape the icy death grip of winter only to find snow on the beach at your resort? I would be quickly hurtling the bottles of Carl Jung into the garbage and going looking for something much stronger like a Sigmund Freud Merlot. ( there’s no such thing so don’t bother Googling it ) . Or paying a visit to old Sig who is known as the father of psychoanalysis.

There. Glad I got all that off my chest.

As most of you know, my long suffering wife edits most of my work with the exception of Monday Morning Musings and Thursday Tidbits. She takes what I have and polishes it up making it fit for human consumption. Occasionally she changes a word here or there and sometimes entire paragraphs ( see “Heat Wave” ). I did a story the other day about the challenging weather we’ve been having. She changed the ending and the title so for those of you waiting to see “Littering The Ice”, the new ( and much improved! ) title will be “ Don’t Rain ( or Snow or Hail ) On My Parade.” I love what she did and I think that this will be one of my favorites. ( Book # 3 material? )

I was chatting with a rabid Montreal Canadiens fan the other day. One thing led to another and I told him about a train trip to Montreal to see a game back in 1971. Hands up. How many of you took a train trip from Antigonish to Montreal or Toronto to see a hockey game? Thought so. Follow up question. How many of you got off the train in Truro for the station stop and picked up additional fuel at the NSLC just a few paces down the platform? Thought so. Oh my, but those trips were so much fun. The trip to which I refer was memorable for two reasons: we encountered “the storm of the century” and Pierre Trudeau and Margaret Sinclair were married the day we arrived in Montreal. The story is called “Whether The Weather.” Not sure what it will be called when Betty gets through with it.

And, no, I haven’t had a senior’s moment. I will be publishing the story “When I’m 64” soon. It’s about aging and memory loss… among other things.

Don’t forget to turn your clocks ahead this weekend.

And have a great day.

Posted on March 4, 2015 under Storytelling with one comment

Programmed for success

 

 

“… I wanna see your smiling face forty five years from now”

Forty-Five Years – Stan Rogers

Who would have known that the time would fly by so quickly?

I was strolling down the Main the other day and happened to bump into someone whom I hadn’t seen in a while.  We chatted about the weather (of course!) and family.  I inquired about her son; a contemporary of mine.  When I started to do the math, I realized that I hadn’t laid eyes on him since we walked out of the St. Ninian Culture and Recreation Centre nearly forty five years ago.  Graduation night.  June 13^th, 1970.

It seems to be that we’re prone to trumpeting “firsts”.  First date, first kiss, first child.  Locally and provincially, 1970 saw a few “lasts”.  We were the last graduating class of Antigonish High School. Veritas vos liberabit.  The university was growing at the time and needed additional facilities.  And large schools were becoming all the rage.  The Regional High School was a mammoth structure, warehousing over 1200 students.  They called this “progress” at the time.  We were also the last group of students to write Provincial exams, those anxiety-inducing “all or nothing” finals.

My Way  

Aquarius

High School graduations these days are week-long affairs.  There is a lot of pomp and circumstance … and partying.  There are multiple events, and many parents have to take out a second mortgage to pay for the attire, meals and stretch limos.  There is a Grand March and an all-night party in someone’s pasture, “far from the madding crowd”.  Thomas Hardy would have approved of having a soiree near someone’s farm, as this was the setting for his famous novel of the same name.

No.  It was very different in 1970.  By today’s standards, we were a pretty innocent and naïve lot.  We were reasonably well schooled in academics but it would be hard to say that we were worldly.  Today, technology gives young people unlimited access to information and knowledge.   But does it give them wisdom?  Probably no more than we had at the tender age of 18.

Proud Mary 

Band of Gold

There were very few eating establishments in Antigonish back in 1970. The venue for special occasions was the Goshen Restaurant in Lower South River.  As a prelude to the big night, we piled in cars and took the ten minute jaunt.  We ate; we speechified and clinked our glasses of soda.  Anticipation was in the air.

The following evening we congregated at the Parish Centre for the graduation ceremony.  We formed two lines of 31 and marched proudly past the fish pond booth up to the front of the gym near the stage. Eleanor gave the opening address and Robert was our deserving valedictorian.  The girls all wore white dresses and the guys wore suits.  Homogeneity was all the rage.

And then, it was time to party.

A Boy Named Sue

Okie from Muskogee

There was no organized event, so many of my classmates walked out of “The Centre”, made a left and a right and walked up the hill to 39 Hillcrest Street for a house party.  We sang our hearts out – that’s what you did back then.  Things were going swimmingly when, much to my shock, my father offered alcohol to the assemblage.  Up to this point in our lives, booze wasn’t important to us.  We would make up for lost time at university.  My dad entered the living room carrying exactly one bottle of Schooner beer … to be shared by the 30 or so in attendance.

Bridge Over Troubled Water

Leaving on a Jet Plane

The next day, a group of us met outside “The Alleys” for one last time.  We dangled our legs over the railings and watched the river, all the while wondering what lay ahead.

God willing (or “the good Lord willing” as Tommy Hunter used to say at the end of his television show), those of us still alive and kicking will get together for our 50^th reunion.  Some of us will have shed some hair and gained some weight.  And finally acquired some wisdom.

I like to think that the best is yet to come.

“Before the rising sun we fly, So many roads to choose We start out walking and learn to run. And yes, we’ve just begun.”

We’ve Only Just Begun – The Carpenters