Posted on August 31, 2015 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

I expect to be harping at you soon

 

 

When I retired a few months ago, I had three goals ( sitting around putting on pounds and being lazy wasn’t one of them ): (1) Whip myself into shape. I have enrolled in a program ( nutrition and exercise ) and will start tomorrow. The endless journey for wellness and balance continues. (2) Find a part time job to stay engaged. I started new work this past week ( casual/part time ). (3) Find a new hobby to keep the brain stimulated. The picture above says it all. My harp instructor is Thea Huard. She is wonderful and incredibly patient. ( www.antigonishcelticharp.wordpress.com )

First, the good news: summer has arrived in all its glory. The bad news: tomorrow is September 1^st. It looks like the best stretch of weather we’ve had all year will happen this week. Better late than never, as the expression goes. We spent yesterday afternoon at Lawrencetown Beach with some of the family. Hadn’t been there before. What an awesome beach.

Our family reunion is in the rear view mirror. There was a time when I was much younger that I didn’t think much of family reunions but the passage of time has changed all that. I now know that these get togethers are so important on so many levels. There is a lot of mileage when you consider that the youngest attendee was 2 and the oldest was 90. It is a time to reflect on the past, live in the moment and ponder the future.

I have some new stories ready for publication. “Done Roamin,” my Casket story later this week , is about a gentleman from Doctor’s Brook who, like many of his generation, went to the “Boston States” to seek employment back in the 50’s. He spent much of his working career in Boston and retired to Nova Scotia. I like writing these kinds of stories. They are about the lives of real people who faced all kinds of challenges ( like the rest of us ! ). We often romanticize about the “good old days” but for our parents’ generation, there wasn’t too much that was glamorous. I still think the reason for their longevity is their incredible work ethic. They didn’t have any choice. Without most of the modern conveniences that we take for granted, their lives involved physical exertion at every turn.

In my research, I was shown a story from a 1941 edition of The Casket. It is an incredible story of two women who went from Doctor’s Brook to Antigonish to do some shopping and were storm stayed for five days. After three days in Antigonish, they decided to walk in waist high snow back to Doctor’s Brook by way of Cloverville and Big Marsh. I thought running the Boston Marathon was a feat of endurance until I read about these incredibly tough women.

On a much more light hearted note, “Be Mindful” is a story about a couple who goes to Halifax to get their car serviced. While driving the dealership’s loaner car ( one of those eco friendly models ), they get stuck in horrible traffic on their way to Bayer’s Lake . It was one of those days when the humidity was through the roof. The air conditioning wasn’t working properly. Are you starting to get the picture? The regular maintenance checkup turns out to be something more serious. Well one thing leads to another, including a request from their daughter to pick up a couple of adult coloring books. I don’t want to spoil the story but the quest for the coloring books involves four malls. This story will make you laugh or cry or both because we’ve all been in a similar situation.

I am looking forward to a trip up to Neil’s Harbor to meet a family doctor who has been practicing there for over 40 years. I expect that he will have some great stories.

Have a great week.

Posted on August 29, 2015 under Storytelling with 3 comments

Playing the pipe organ is nothing to sneeze at

 

 

It seems that we’re all caught in one long, perpetual cycle of catching a cold. In the middle of winter, you always meet someone who utters these words: “Terrible cold goin’ around.” We have a winter cold, a spring cold, a summer cold and a fall cold. That pretty well takes care of the whole year. It’s pretty annoying and aggravating to you (and those close to you) when your nose is perpetually running; you’re sneezing incessantly and hacking profusely. The only people that truly love you are the manufacturers of tissues … and possibly your dog. Dogs are always compassionate.

Having a cold, in private, is bad enough but when you are out in public, that’s where things can get dicey.

The organist and choir director (he does both) entered the choir loft a few minutes before Sunday Mass. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was very much under the weather. He was exhibiting all of the classic symptoms. The choir “mothers”, who treat the organist as family, made quite a fuss about this unfortunate turn of events. Equally troublesome was the fact that the Bishop would be presiding, which always put the choir and organist on a higher level of alert.

With five minutes to go before Mass was to begin, he fished around in his sweater looking for a Kleenex but none was to be found. There is usually a box in the choir loft, but cold season had taken its toll and there wasn’t a tissue anywhere. The choir members shuffled through their purses and pockets and could only muster Kleenex of the “used” variety; hardly something that one would share with a friend.

A member of the alto section leapt into action. With the minutes ticking away before the opening hymn, she descended the spiral staircase two steps at a time to the main floor of the cathedral. She literally ran down the aisle and entered the sanctuary area of the church. The Bishop, rector and altar boys were all in a state of readiness, waiting for the first thundering notes of the grand pipe organ.

She entered the nearest washroom. It was now three minutes before the commencement of the service. She couldn’t see a box of tissues and there was no time to track down the custodian. She ran down the hallway that connects the cathedral to the parish centre. She searched every washroom to no avail. Nothing in the kitchen or in any of the classrooms. Aha! There, through the office window, she spotted a large box of Kleenex. One minute to show time. She rattled the doorknob of the locked office to no avail as the box of tissues on the desk taunted her.

Defeated, she retraced her steps and almost missed the fresh roll of toilet paper wrapped in paper in the sanctuary washroom. She grabbed it and, realizing that she couldn’t very well carry it back down the aisle, raced for the back door. Despite the chilly temperatures outside, she had worked up quite a sweat.

She furtively placed the offending object behind her back as she waved to the bishop who was now on his way to the altar. She was enormously relieved when she failed to encounter anyone else in authority. Does the parish employ security cameras, she wondered? If so, she would have some explaining to do.

She exited the sanctuary into the parking lot, ran around to the front of the cathedral and up the winding staircase; almost taking out the bell ringer on his way down. She thrust the roll of t.p. at the bewildered choir director and was completely out of breath as she returned to her spot in the choir loft. The organist struck the first notes to a familiar hymn. Psalm 23 had never sounded better.

She paused as she pondered the first few phrases: “The Lord in my shepherd, there is nothing I shall want.” A wry grin crossed her face as she was tempted to add a few words. “… except maybe some Kleenex up here.”

Posted on August 24, 2015 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

I wouldn’t skip a family reunion for anything

( Peter MacDonald photo )

 

 

Wow! My head is spinning. What a whirlwind four days. The range of emotions is really hard to articulate.

It all started last Thursday when a dear friend of the family passed away. The scourge of cancer claimed another person. Dave Dixon was a quality guy and we are all going to miss him. I’m doubly sad because he suggested a subject for one of my “living tributes” as I like to call them. He mentioned an older gentleman from Doctor’s Brook who led a pretty interesting life. I met with this person two days before Dave died. I had hoped to have the story finished in time so that he could hear it. But sadly, it wasn’t to be, although I was able to tell him a few funny stories from the interview. This story will be published in next week’s Casket .

Friday was also the last Art Fair for 2015 and this coincided with the first MacDonald Family Reunion in 15 years. Did I mention that it was an unseasonably warm and humid weekend…just in case you didn’t notice?! The reunion started late in the morning with a walk around The Landing and ended Sunday afternoon with a catered lunch at the John Paul Centre.

I certainly won’t bore you with all the details. This would be as bad as someone coming back from a mid- winter cruise and telling how great it was. There were definitely a few highlights though. On Friday night at the Art Fair, I was joined on stage by almost every relative, for the finale. We sang a handful of songs in four part harmony. And who was smack dab in the middle of this motley crew? My 90 year old mother. Even though she is showing signs of aging, she remembered every word to the songs we sang. I believe that music is one of those things that’s hard wired in our brains.

However, we were definitely upstaged by 19 Coady students who put on an amazing display in their 20 minute set. The crowd, estimated at 1200, clapped , hollered and cheered , as each participant brought greetings to Antigonish in the official language of their country. We are so fortunate to have them in our midst. It was a wonderful evening and I think everyone went away happy.

The rest of the weekend was full on family reunion. You know how these things go. It’s exhausting and exhilarating. The youngest attendee was Leah ( aged 2 ) and the oldest was mom at age 90. Thankfully, the weather forecasters had it all wrong ( a disturbing trend these days ). There wasn’t one outdoor event that was even close to being cancelled. The clan’s patriarch, P.D. died in 1977 so most of the people attending the reunion never got to meet him. The last event on Sunday was dedicated to his memory as most of my siblings told stories about dad so that our children and grandchildren would get a glimpse of who he was and what he stood for. All of my brothers and sisters ( including yours truly ) had a hard time getting through our presentations without some gulping and tears. As I said earlier, these kind of events evoke all kinds of emotions.

A huge thanks to the four cousins that put the whole thing together: Margaret , Laura, Tricia and Betsy.

September is lurking like an unwanted intruder.

Have a great week.

P.S. Yes, I can jump that high… and pigs fly!!!