Posted on September 6, 2021 under Monday Morning Musings with 4 comments

 

Why?

Why not.

Life continues to be a never ending, unfolding mystery and for that, I am grateful… most of the time. When travelling, knowing where you are going and how to get there are rather important. However, as many of us know, sometimes “the road less taken” provides unimagined experiences. There’s nothing wrong playing it safe. There is comfort in routine and the known.

“So, you’re back up north, Len. Did you take a wrong turn on one of your long walks? Heat stroke? Early onset dementia?”

Truthfully, when the Air Inuit flight left Kangiqsujuaq at the end of May, I never thought I would ever see the place again. I was mentally, emotionally, and physically fatigued. I limped home to Antigonish and cocooned for two weeks, save for a Covid approved daily walk. I didn’t cook a single meal. Family, friends, and neighbors looked after that during my 4^th quarantine. I didn’t bake. Not even once, a streak that lasted all summer. After a winter of baking every third day, I figured that I had contributed enough to the stock price of Robin Hood flour.

Once out of self-isolation, I discovered Fast Food Matters, a wonderful food emporium just around the corner from my apartment. Their wide variety of soups, salads, hummus, and prepared meals was the perfect solution for a single person, bored to death with their own cooking.

I ramped up my walking and got back into decent walking shape, culminating with my 77 km walk on my birthday. I started to socialize, as Covid rules in my home province were relaxed. I swear to god, I kept several restaurants in business single handed, enjoying lunches and dinners on their patios. I spent more time at Bayfield, where family members own two cottages, than I had in decades. Long walks on the beach and bonfires are the perfect tonic for stress reduction.

I had a chance to spend time with my granddaughters. Need I say anything more?

I had company from outside the province and had a chance to show off Nova Scotia in the summer.

I always seem to be meeting new people and this summer was no different.

All of this being said, by mid-summer I felt totally relaxed and rejuvenated. A bit of restlessness started creeping in. The days were flying by which is nothing new.

I was also keeping a close eye on Covid, at home and abroad and what I saw was not encouraging. Fourth waves were breaking out all over the place. Personally, I wish authorities would stop using this terminology. It sets up expectations both positive and negative. I knew that any thoughts of international travel in the near term weren’t realistic. Even domestic travel was iffy.

Around this time, I became aware that there was a teacher shortage in the north. This is nothing new, but it seems that the pandemic has exacerbated things and convincing teachers to go to remote, fly-in communities was a harder sell than ever. This included my school. This is when I started corresponding with my principal. I told her that I might be available to come to help out on a short-term basis with teacher shortages. We continued to dialogue in the waning days of the summer and a ten days ago, I received a call offering me a position in the school as a jack of all trades. I will do some teaching, but I will be used in a variety of ways.

It didn’t take me long to commit. I didn’t relish the idea of sitting around my apartment, twiddling my thumbs for the fall and winter. I plan to come home for Christmas unless Covid says otherwise. And then reassess.

Before I accepted my first teaching position in the north, I conferred with Wab Kinew who is an indigenous member of the provincial NDP in Manitoba. I asked him for some advice for a newbie heading to the north. “Learn more than you teach.” I will continue my education.

I arrived last Thursday at suppertime. After being treated to an awesome meal by six of my colleagues, I made my way to my new home on the shores of Wakem Bay (see photo below). Another colleague has gone on sabbatical, and I am fortunate enough to be staying in her house. The beauty of this arrangement is that I didn’t have to haul everything but the kitchen sink from home. The house is fully equipped and (gasp) has excellent satellite internet. I might even dust off the guitar one of these evenings and do a Pillow Talk show.

My first full day in the village was last Friday and it was filled with mixed emotions. I visited with teachers and students. I went for groceries and walked to and from my home several times. I was treated like a rock star. Very few people knew I was coming back. Let’s just say that I received incredible doses of love. I felt like I truly belonged.

The afternoon was much different. I attended the funeral of a young man who died suddenly. The grief at the gravesite was indescribable. The keening of the grieving mother was gut wrenching.

On my first full day back in the village, I experienced the north in all of its triumphs and tragedies.

On Saturday, I went berry picking with one of the young teachers. She is an avid outdoors person, recently completing a big section of the Appalachian Trail in Quebec. Simply put, she is a badass. Ingrid is strong mentally and physically which is in stark contrast her berry picking partner! There are many varieties of berries but one of the most cherished is the arpik or cloud berry. Our walk (24km) took us through the tundra which can be spongy in spots with rocky, uneven ground. We stumbled upon an amazing patch of the coveted berries. Against my better judgment (bad back, bad knee, weak mind…!), I decided to get low to the ground to pick. We were surrounded by mountains and a pristine lake a few meters away. The only sounds that broke the deafening silence were the honking of a few geese and a haunting call of a lone loon. Pure magic.

Pure magic was soon followed by pure hell. I realized on the inward part of our walk that trying to pick berries in my fragile state was a piss poor idea. I barely made it up the flight of stairs into my house. I showered, had a bite to eat and remained virtually motionless for the remainder of the day, except to get up to walk off some muscle spasms.

I have a few goals on this third trip to the north. I want to take yoga and partake in daily stretching exercises… so that I can go picking berries (and mussels on the shoreline outside my house) without requiring traction. If I can find a patient Inuk, I also want to learn some basic Inuktitut. I am already able to sing a handful of songs in this language but have no idea what I’m singing!

So, there you have it. In these most unusual times, I feel a deep sense of gratitude that I can pivot quickly and stay engaged and interested in life.

Have a great week.

 

Posted on August 30, 2021 under Monday Morning Musings with 2 comments

 

 

Writers in crime

 

Lennon and McCartney.

Simon and Garfunkel.

Carroll and MacDonald.

Whaa?

The first two writing duos are well known and well loved. Some of the greatest songs from the 60s and 70s were penned by these talented artists.

After writing 1247 posts, I thought it was high time to up my game and bring in a real writer to help me with this post.

I would like to introduce you to my friend, Shelley Carroll. I met Shelley for the first time in 2018. We met at the funeral reception for my mom. She was (is) a friend of my brother Gerard. They have run together, cycled together and probably quaffed an ale or two together.

For some reason that I still can’t quite fathom, Shelley started following my Week45 posts. This is where I really got to know her. Over the past few years, we have exchanged numerous messages. A while back, Shelley asked me to review a story that she had written. I loved it and I have read many more. She has a keen wit and has a great turn of phrase.

I don’t know what the eff Len is talking about. Sure, I have loyally followed his blog for the past few years, but then today, out of the blue, he shows up at my cottage with a bottle of wine and his laptop, sends my partner Hal out for errands, and tells me to punch up his article so that the masses can be entertained. OK, I think. Whatever. He did bring me that wine and looks like he intends to stick around for a while. I see his guitar perched over there in the corner, so I guess we’ll make a night of it. May as well feed him. Hope Hal feels like cooking…

But in all seriousness, Len is a kindred spirit. This is the third time I’ve seen him in person and we are getting along just swimmingly. I’m honoured that he has invited me to share his space – both literally and figuratively. Let’s see what we can accomplish with this tag team writing initiative.

A sponge rubber ball. More specifically, a red, white, and blue sponge rubber ball. Surely those of you of a certain age have played with one of these. Pretty well every Easter for decades, someone in our large, unwieldy family would get one of these gems with their Easter gifts. There were simple pleasure like playing catch with a sibling or a neighbor. There were about 100 kids on our street so finding a playmate wasn’t hard. It’s a little harder finding a playmate at 70! We played baseball with the rubber ball. Some of the bigger boys could hit the ball a mile. Being one of the younger ones, I was usually the retriever. We would also lob the ball over the roof of a small shed with kids on either side.

For me, a glimpse at the image of the rubber ball that Len sent to me instantly took me back to 1992 and the Barenaked Ladies album Gordon. Not that we didn’t play with balls (or outdoors) as a child, but the image struck me musically rather than playfully. Nostalgia is a tricky bugger in that way. Much like perspective. Regardless, his prompt took me back to a simpler time. And I think that may be where this piece is going…

And, speaking of balls…we had a game of sorts that might have been more “girl friendly” than “boy friendly”. We’d put a tennis ball (or heavier) in a sock or nylon stocking, stand up flat against a wall, and swing that sock for all its worth up and down and all around and hope to the heavens that one didn’t knock it up against a cherished but misunderstood body part in the process. (Any boy who played that game was nuts or nutless). LMD

I attribute my modest baking skills to Easy Bake Ovens which were popular Christmas gift. In addition to the cake mix which came with the oven, the only other requirements were water and a stable electrical outlet. We’re cooking, Shelley.

Ah yes, we’re cooking with Bisquik and water, having long run out of the mixes that came with the oven purchase. With the right amount of butter and milk, this will go down easy.

Many times over the past 2 years, I have stood in a playground holding one end of a skipping rope. This is weird enough at the age of 69 but doubly weird when you’re doing it when the temperature dips to a balmy -40.

I can’t imagine doing ANYTHING other than burrowing under several warm blankets in those kind of temperatures! But I do fondly recall spending what seemed like an entire weekend in my driveway as a kid. One end of the skipping rope was secured to the garage door handle and each of us took turns manipulating the other working end of the rope while we all skipped and sang along to the tune of the transistor radio.

I taught art. Let that sink ink. The stick man wizard has no artistic ability. I even sucked at Etch-a- Sketch.

I was similarly artistically inclined! My forte was most pronounced in using it to write inappropriate messages to my younger brother that I could quickly erase by shaking the contraption after he ratted me out and before Mom could catch me red handed.

Shelley and I grew up in vastly different eras. I’m old enough to be her father. She has insisted on checking the paternity. We agree on one thing. When we were growing up, we were forced to be imaginative because we didn’t have many organized sports and fancy gadgets to rot our brains. We spent a lot of our youth in the outdoors. And when we ran out of things to do, we could always pick on a sibling.

Like I said earlier – Len is a kindred spirit. As such, friendship and connection transcend age. I’ll drink to that! Because we’re both older than 19.

I don’t think Lennon and McCartney need to feel threatened, but they probably didn’t have nearly as much fun as we did, swapping tales, having a drink, and looking out at the Tidnish River. I’ll give Shelley the last word. I have found that the survival of the male species demands that women have the last word.

Len is a smart man. Ya hear that, single ladies?

Thanks for inviting me to collaborate on this piece with you. It has been a lot of fun. Now, let’s crack open that bottle of wine and talk smack about Gerard.

Please check out some of Shelley’s stories at https://vocal.media/authors/shelley-carroll

Have a great week

Posted on August 23, 2021 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

 

The Ross Family

 

I wish to acknowledge that most of the information in this piece was provided by the Ross family.

Dan Ross is one of the good guys.

He has given so much to his community and it is now time for the community to return the favour.

If you wanted a good definition of entrepreneurship, a description of Dan’s life would do quite nicely. From a very young age, he showed off his talents. He has spent his life honing his craft as the owner of Ross Screenprint. However, Dan is not a one trick pony. He also learned at any early age that giving back was every bit as important as business acumen. He has supported many local causes over the years.

On a personal note, when I got into business at the age of 42, one of the first people I reached out to was Dan. His enthusiasm for new ideas and marketing strategies left me somewhat in awe.

In January of 2020, Dan had an accident while skiing that left him with a sore neck. Over time, symptoms gradually worsened to sickness and debilitating fatigue, and then eventually an inability to be upright at all without suffering symptoms including intense headaches, loss of speech, lack of motor control and full body spasms. He has essentially been bedridden for one year. He is unable to look left or right. Simply put, his accident has left him unable to support the weight of his head.

I know Dan a little bit and I suspect that he isn’t looking for pity. He is looking for a solution because that’s just in his DNA. He still runs his business here in Antigonish setting up a horizontal office to be able to continue to work. He uses an overhead mounted monitor and a clear plexiglass shelf for paperwork.

Daniel’s condition is very rare. There is a surgery called Craniocervical Fusion, which fuses the base of the skull to the spine enabling the head to be supported while upright. There are eight surgeons in the world who specialize in this procedure and one of them in New York has accepted Dan as a patient.

That’s the good news.

The procedure is risky and very expensive. The surgery alone will cost $300,000. Dan and his wife Shauna have been lobbying the N.S. healthcare system to help with the funding but to no avail. The Ross’s have to go it alone.

But they don’t. It is our turn as a community of friends to step up and help someone who has helped so many. A GoFund Me campaign has been set up to try and raise at least $125,000. https://www.gofundme.com/f/surgery-to-get-daniel-ross-upright-again?fbclid=IwAR2-UAWN4QFoTFXZixAyrnXZ3TwsRZcn2TSwSUK_U-51VhIa20Eow82TXCQ

For people in the Antigonish area, there is a fundraising account set up at the East Coast Credit Union (Bergengren), in the name of Blaise Ross. You can also send an e-transfer at helpdanielross@gmail.com.

We need Dan healthy and strong once more. You just know that when he has the surgery and recovers, that he will redouble his energy (if that is humanly possible!) to make Antigonish a better place to live.

So, let’s roll up our sleeves and “get ‘er done”.

Please, if you would, share this post widely. Thank you.

P.S. More than $70,00 has been raised so far. Let’s keep it going.