Posted on December 25, 2024 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with 2 comments

 

Ho! Ho! Ho!

 

Blink.

Blink again.

That was 2024 that just zipped by. Yes, I realize that there’s still a week to go but the year is all but done.

So, what profound words of wisdom do I have to share in this my 1405^th Week45 story? Yes. I’ve been writing these gems (?) for 13 years. In the early years, I posted stories every Monday and Thursday (Musings and Tidbits) fifty-two weeks of the year. As time went by, I reduced this to once a week. Did I run out of story ideas? Hardly. With 8 billion people in the world, there will always be an abundance of story ideas.

A friend of mine sent me something the other day that caught my attention. Living longer doesn’t necessarily equate with living better. But the following words might be a good recipe.

“Whatever happens, stay alive. Don’t die before you’re dead. Don’t lose yourself, don’t lose hope, don’t lose direction. Stay alive, with yourself, with every cell of your body, with every fiber of your skin. Stay alive, learn, study, think, read, build, invent, create, speak, write, dream, design. Stay alive, stay alive inside you, stay alive also outside, fill yourself with colors of the world, fill yourself with peace, fill yourself with hope. Stay alive with joy. There is only one thing you should not waste in life and that is life itself.” Sona Rajput.

Wise words indeed but not easy to achieve. The world is a troubled place and it’s very easy to be pessimistic. Burying one’s head in the sand is not the answer nor is obsessing with all the bad news that’s all around us.

After receiving these “words of wisdom”, I replied to my friend. I told her that I don’t follow the news any more other than headlines on the CBC App. I said that I want to use my energy in constructive and positive ways. Teaching, writing, singing, reading, walking, cooking.

With renewed vigor, I am going to try and reduce my consumption of social media. To this end, I have turned off some of the notification buttons, most noticeably, Facebook. I didn’t realize that such a simple measure could almost eliminate my Pavlovian response to the little red notification flags.

It’s not possible to be in good cheer all the time but I think that happiness is a choice. I know some people who choose happiness, and they are great people to spend time with. Their good humour is addictive.

Thanks for tagging along in 2024.

See you in 2025… “The good Lord willin’” (From the Tommy Hunter Show)

Stay well and keep smilin’.

Posted on December 18, 2024 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with one comment

The Walnut

From time to time, I post a story submitted by one of my followers. I met Dawn Haloun 15 years ago. She grew up on a farm in B.C. In 2005, she and her husband sailed to Cape Breton and decided that this would be there new home. From 2011-2016 she attended St.F.X. graduating with a degree in literature. Enjoy this lovely Christmas story.

 

The Christmas when I was nearly four, I was not considered quite old enough to keep a secret.  At least, not a full secret. I was shown, to my brother George’s great glee, only a piece of it…a little blue box, with a walnut in it.

On this particular Christmas that I write about, we lived on a small farm with six milking cows, some pigs, some chickens.  The year was 1948.  Times were tight yet, not much cash flow so soon post-war, but there was lots of warmth from the kitchen’s wood stove, and there was the warmth of the friendly messages in the Christmas cards displayed around the room.

There were special aromas too of Christmas baking.  The shortbread was hidden away to age, along with Christmas cakes full of bright cherries and candied fruit. My brother and I knew where to find these wonderful goodies, and were very, very careful to snitch only one little piece at a time, which we were sure wouldn’t be missed.  This was the season too for Japanese oranges. The oranges came only at Christmas-time in a little wooden crate which was so useful for other projects long after the oranges were eaten.

There was also a wooden bowl full of mixed nuts on the table.  My little hands did not have the skill to crack those pecans or walnuts into neat halves to keep the nutmeats whole.  My brother was adept at manipulating the unwieldy nutcrackers and sometimes he condescended to share broken nutmeats with me.

A few days before Christmas the tree was up and decorated.  The old strings of lights were  artfully arranged over the tree’s thin spots. They were plugged in, and glowing brightly.

I had been allowed to handle some of those delicate glass Christmas balls.  Carefully unwrapping them from their protective tissue paper, I hung them as high as I could reach. My brother, who was three years older, could hang ornaments at the next level, then Mum and Dad did the upper branches, finishing with tinsel, and lastly the home-made star at the very top. The room lights were turned off, and we, our snug family of four, stood back to admire the magic.

At such a young age, I probably didn’t know much about the concept of giving gifts.  I knew that Santa Claus put presents under the tree on Christmas night, so when my brother whispered that our Dad had a special gift for Mum, I was perhaps a little mystified when Dad secretly showed me a little blue box with a walnut in it.

There was the nut bowl on the table with lots of walnuts in it!  I was admonished not to tell Mum. But why would I? It was just a walnut!  What was most important was being part of a secret with my brother and my Dad.

Christmas morning was about anticipation!  Somehow, all those gaily wrapped presents under the tree had arrived in the night, and there was an especially big one pushed towards the back.

The cows were milked and all the early morning barn chores were done. Breakfast eaten and dishes washed.  The old wood furnace in the basement had been lit and warmed the usually unheated front room. Anticipation and impatience were mounting, but finally we could begin!

There might have been some organized method of distributing the gifts – but finally the big one at the back of the tree was brought forward and presented to my mother.  “I know what that is!” I blurted out before my brother clapped his hands over my mouth.

My mother began to unwrap, and unwrap, and unwrap…layers of newspaper, string, brown paper, Christmas wrap, all fell away.  My Mum’s face expressed quizzical curiosity mixed with trepidation as she finally, finally, unwrapped the little blue box.  Dad was grinning, my brother was grinning.  But I knew it was only a walnut.

Poor Mum!  All that for only a walnut!

Mum opened the little blue box. Inside was gold paper, carefully wrapped around a nut.   Dad handed Mum the nutcrackers and she cracked the walnut into two neat halves.

Inside, folded as tightly as possible, was a $100 bill.

Mum started to cry. My Dad laughed and laughed and hugged her, and my brother laughed too.  I could only say “It’s only a walnut…but don’t you like it, Mum?”  Poor, poor Mum…only a walnut…

How could a four-year- old child understand the value of that special gift to a woman who had scraped and saved through the Great Depression, the Second World War, the years of small farm living?  What child could understand the generosity of a husband who himself must have pinched and saved for a long, long time to amass such a huge sum of money.

I know my Mum kept that bill for a long time. I’d like to think that she finally spent it on something extravagant just for herself, for something special.  I suspect she spent it on us, her family, for new school shoes, or a coat or a warm sweater for Dad.

Long after that bill was gone, she would sometimes take the little blue box out of her bureau drawer, open it, and gaze at the two walnut halves, a quiet smile on her face.

Dawn Haloun

 

Posted on December 11, 2024 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with 4 comments

My hometown

 

“Son, take a look around,

This is your hometown.”

My Hometown – Bruce Springsteen

When you walk every day of your life, you notice things. Rarely do you see things that are startling. If you’re a hiker, you might see a rare bird, some flowers or a vista that leaves you gob smacked. Driving to and from work is so routine that your car automatically takes you to the drive-through at Tim Horton’s. It’s all rather mundane.

My daily walks follow the same route. One day, it’s clockwise and the next it’s clockwise. The circuit is the same, but the point of view is different.

Speaking of mundane, let me take you on the walk I take on the days when I am called to substitute teach. If you’re having trouble sleeping, read on!

When I step outside my door, I am facing east. With the exception of a few weeks in December, I get to witness the sunrise… when it’s not raining for three consecutive weeks. There’s something special about a sunrise. It bespeaks of hope for a new day. Some days, it positively reeks of optimism. I am glad that I’m an inveterate early bird. And speaking of birds, there are a handful of places along the way to school where murders of crows congregate to provide a wakeup call to neighbours.

Before making the turn onto Main Street, I invariably meet the guys from Sullivan’s Auto Service who are clutching a Timmie’s on their way to work. These are good guys. Hard working with a good sense of humour.

I head west towards the school, a few kilometers away. I love the stillness of the early morning. There are very few vehicles on the road at this hour of the day with the exception of hospital workers who always give me a friendly wave. With Christmas just around the corner, the light standards are bedecked with flashing Christmas lights, a candy cane delight.

The stores in the downtown core go all out at Christmas and I often stop to admire the creativity of those who put together these amazing festive window displays. One doesn’t get to appreciate the details if they’re driving.

I walk along the south side of the Main and marvel at how much things have changed over the decades. Across the street, where the venerable Wong’s Restaurant dished out some of the best Chinese food for many years, is now the home to a mosque. Who would have thought that this was possible in The Little Vatican?

Almost without fail, there is a car parked on The Main with two old fellas (probably my age!) smoking with the windows up. They’re probably talking about sports or politics, but there’s a good chance that they’re chatting about the good old days. We always exchange a friendly wave and a smile.

I pass the Credit Union. I have been a member for 72 years according to their records. My dad was the manager there for a long time. It has grown exponentially since its early days in the League building which now houses Farmer’s Mutual. Directly across the street is Happenstance. This was once the home of Sears and Macintosh Hardware Store. When we were young hockey players, this is where we purchased our hockey sticks. They were kept in the back recesses of the building. A top-of-the-line CCM wooden stick would set you back $3.49.

As I wait for the light to change, I stare across the road at Town Hall where I spent 9 years of my life as a counsellor. Just in time for Christmas, there are new exterior lights on the clock tower that turn a different color every 8 seconds. It’s quite stunning.

Oak Manor Men’s Wear is now a watering hole. For the longest time, this iconic store with its unique interior, was a hot bed of political gossip. Long before politics became a nasty blood sport, a person could go inside and come back out in sartorial splendor, along with the latest polling information.

The Capitol Theatre is no more. When we were kids, fifty cents would gain you admittance to a Saturday matinee and enough change (.13 cents) to get a bag full of candy at Dot’s Confectionery across the street. The building will be the new home of a barbeque restaurant.

Further along the way, I pass Grape Leaves Restaurant, one of many new Syrian businesses in our town. This used to be the Celtic Music Store. I wonder what Bernie MacIsaac would make of this. And right across the street, next to the Tall and Small (best muffins on the planet), is the Peace by Chocolate store, another Syrian enterprise that had made national and international headlines.

At the corner of Main and Hawthorns, I pause and wait for the lights to change. Back in the 1960s, on the land currently occupied by Chisholm Park, there was an excellent outdoor skating rink. The Wheel Pizza and Sub Shop might be the most iconic business on the Main. It has been there for decades, and its legendary pizzas have made it to every corner of the world and even into space!

As I make the slow turn onto West Street, I look across the way to St.F.X. University. I’m quite certain that I could write a book about this institution, having grown up in its shadow.

There are some regular, early morning walkers along this part of my route. We always say good morning and exchange pleasantries. One of these days, I must stop them and ask them their names.

I am one of the first teachers to arrive at the school, an old habit from my teaching days. I like to ease into the day. I greet the secretary and the school’s maintenance supervisor and then head off to my classroom to see what the day ahead looks like.

I have become a bit of a fixture at St. Andrew’s Junior School. I don’t know all the students by name, but they all seem to know mine. All day long, I receive cheery greetings of “Hi, Mr. MacDonald.”

The school day ends and it’s time to head back home. I stand at the cross walk with dozens of students, waiting for Ray, the crosswalk guard, to grant us safe passage. There’s another crosswalk just down the hill but this is not where I cross. I don’t know this crosswalk guard but we always wave and say hello. I often wonder how he spends the rest of his day.

Even though I’m generally a bit fatigued after a day on my feet, I love the walk home. Invariably, I meet up with a few students and I find out about their day. Keeps me young being around young people.

On many occasions, I will stop at the People’s Place Library on my way home to drop off a book and pick up another. Lately, I have been reading some of the old classics like Pride and Prejudice, Tess of the d’Urbervilles and The Great Gatsby.

“To market, to market to buy a fat pig,

Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.”

To Market. To Market. Nursery Rhyme

A day in the life of a not so retired retiree.

My hometown.

Have a great weekend.

P.S. I’m doing a one man music and story telling Christmas concert at the Heritage Museum this Sunday, December 15th from 1-3 p.m.