3 Geneva Street, the Lights Are On

You know that tingling feeling kids get when they are in bed on Christmas Eve and hear the bells on Santa's reindeer?

The fearsome knowledge that a secret world exits somewhere close by?

Scary and exciting at the same time?

That's the feeling I had when I first saw this miniature house.


That feeling of being seven again and in the presence of magic didn't last long enough I'm sad to say ...

but my astonishment is still with me.



This amazing little house has been taken out of storage and is on temporary display for at the Museum at Lock 3 in St. Catharines, Ontario.

This is the upstairs bedroom. 

Each piece has been hand crafted. Even the little drawers open.

I reallllllly want to know if there is anything in those drawers, old maps to pirate treasure, (miniature pirates of course), a wee pair of wire rim spectacles, maybe even a tiny diary full of secrets.


Evidently the builder had to make the proper miniature tools before he was able to construct the objects that appear in the house.

I find it hard to imagine that he went to all that trouble and then didn't pull things in the drawers. 

If I find out I'll let you know!

The downstairs parlor is my favourite room.  You have to see it to believe how tiny and exquisite  everything is.

Notice the open door on the hutch on the left.  Each tiny little plate, candlestick and vase has been placed just so. 

When I saw it in the basement of the museum after it first came out of storage, a number of the items had been knocked over.  Someone must have very gently used tweezers to put everything back in place. 

The identity of the children in the daguerreotype is unknown at this time. 

Perhaps the builder and his sister?

This is the masculine sitting room opposite the salon. 

Notice the clock and the tiny little pictures on the desk.


You can practically smell the cigar smoke still lingering in this room.

Another sitting room upstairs. 

This one seems more feminine. 

Could this one have been for the lady of the house?

No tobacco smells here.

 Just a hint of lavender.

Servants quarters under the truncated turret at the upper left of the house. 

Such a lovely painting on the wall.

It must have been a lucky girl who landed a job with this family.

This is a photograph of the house that still stands at 3 Geneva Street in St. Catharines.  For those of you familiar with St. Catharines it is south of St. Paul Street close to the 406. 

The Museum is closed between Christmas and New Years but the week after is a perfect time to take the whole family. 

Trust me, it's worth it.

Related articles

• Holiday happenings in Niagara (thestar.com)

I Will Fight Them Over the Phone, I Will Fight Them Online, I Will Never Surrender

Image via Wikipedia

I'm trying to avoid paying the multi-bizzillion dollar conglomerate Bell Canada the $2 fee they charge for a paper bill every month.

 After many calls to India, I have given up trying to get help over the phone.

As far as I can tell the problem is that my cell phone and the turbo hub I recently purchased are from two different branches of Bell.  The right hand of Bell doesn't know what the left sold me.


Here's what happened when I used their e-mail customer service to sort out the problem. Which, by the way,  I was advised to do by someone in Bombay.



Francie to Ma Bell, Saturday

Category : E-bill

Topic : Username and password


Dear Ma,

I am unable to get my web activation code because I have a turbo hub.

In billing step #2 it won't accept my mobile number.

It will accept my turbo hub number but there is no place that I can see to retrieve the number.

I love the product, but registering for the billing has been extraordinarily frustrating.

Please help.

Francie




Ma Bell to Francie, Tuesday


Good day Frances Mcglynn,


Thank you for using our website.

My name is Carl (Emp# 6000260). I have read your email and I wish to clarify that I am unable to assist you at this time since your name does not appear on this profile as the account holder or contact person.

I suggest that the account holder or contact person authorize your access by adding your name as a contact person.


We hope you will understand that these security measures are in place in order to protect client accounts from unauthorized access.


I would like to thank you, Ms. Mcglynn, for using our website and for choosing Bell Mobility as your wireless communications provider.


Kind regards and have a nice day,

Carl (Emp# 6000260)

Bell Mobility - Online Client Care






Francie to Ma Bell, Tuesday


Dear Carl (Emp# 6000260),

I am simply trying to arrange a method whereby I can pay my bill.

I have no idea what you mean when you say my name does not appear on the profile as the account number for the contact person.

Would you mind telling me whose name does appear there? Perhaps they would like to pay my bill.

Sincerly,

Frances McGlynn





Jeesh. 

Related articles

• Bell Mobility launches Netgear Turbo Hub, sends juicy HSPA+ to your WiFi and Ethernet gear (engadget.com)
• Bell Aliant admits billing errors on text plans (cbc.ca)

Ding Dong Bell.ca

Image via Wikipedia

Bet you'll never guess which tree is the cell phone tower!



My next door neighbour recently bought a Blackberry. I was so impressed that she could get You Tube on her new phone way out here in the country, that I took myself off to the nearest Bell Mobility store to see if they had anything similar in my price range.

They didn't .

They did, however, sell me a nifty little device called a turbo hub.

For a price, one that city people don't have to pay, the turbo hub lets rural folks enjoy highish speed internet access.

It has its own phone number and runs off the cell phone towers.

It works quite well.

It is easy to install.



But trying to arrange online billing does not work well and is not easy.



To set up an e bill account and avoid the extra $2 a month Bell charges for a paper bill, (Can you imagine? Have they no shame?), you need a secret access code.

And getting the secret access code is like trying to get plans to build a nuclear scud missile in your back yard.



But I didn't know that when I started.



"What fun," I thought. "A secret access code! I'm going undercover, just like in the movies."

As I left the store, I hid the turbo hub under my coat and scanned the parking lot looking for enemy infiltrators. When the coast was clear I hopped into the spy car and headed for North Pelham.

Safely at home I put the thing together and went to the website. Following my handler's instructions which said they would text my secret access code as soon as I contacted them, I entered my cell phone number.

Seconds later I was shocked to learn that they have no record of my phone.

Which, I might add, I've been using for years.

Now I won't say I panicked but I will tell you that Bell eventually locked me out for a while.



Anyway after 4,723 phone calls to Bombay I learned it was because my phone was from Bell Solo and my turbo hub was from Bell Mobility. It apparently didn't matter that I bought them both in the same little 10' by 10' Bell Mobility Store in St. Catharines.

Bell was pleased to send my secret access code to my turbo hub phone number though.

But the turbo hub is a screenless, soundless black box.  Bell might as well have sent the
secret access code to the tree in my backyard.

You know - the tree that stands beside my scud missile launch pad.


To make it worse I keep getting anxiety producing e-mails from Bell Mobility wondering why I haven't arranged my billing. I only have 14, oops, make that 11 days, left to set it up after all.


The people in India have given up on me. I'm presently waiting for a personal e mail from Ma Bell herself.

If, by mistake, they send me the plans to build a nuclear scud missile instead of my

secret access code,

I think I'll aim it at their head office.

Because I'm not paying Bell Canada an extra $2 a month for a piece of paper.

Grave Faces IV

Christmas is all about the birth of the baby Jesus, right?

So you wouldn't expect to find sculptures of the Holy Family in cemeteries, cemeteries being all about death, not birth, right?

They  do show up however, and in light of the Christmas season here are a few versions of the 'grave' Holy Family.

At this tomb Mother and son wear magnificent crowns.

Jesus is looking upwards - to heaven I suppose, but He gives me the impression that He is trying very hard to keep the crown balanced on his head.


Mary looks strained. Like most mothers she is weighed down with responsibilities

- never mind the part about being the Mother of God.

Anyone who knows the story would understand that Joseph's existential moment here is not just for the person whose burial they are attending, but also for his son.

This baby Jesus rests a hand on his father's cheek to comfort him and gazes sympathetically at the mourners.

 

Mother and son look down from the sky at the grave of the person whose burial they have been called to attend.

Such an implacable look on Mary's face. She knows that the fate of the deceased is out of her hands now.

Jesus, although still a toddler, blesses the body.


It almost looks like a formal departure at a train station.

The Holy Family has gathered for a burial in Thorold and Joseph, the old man, is chilled at the thought of death. We see it in his face when he looks directly at the camera.

Mary, is lost in prayer. Unlike her husband, she has no doubts about the soul's journey through the afterlife.

Once again, Jesus raises his hand in a blessing.

And just because it wouldn't be right not to include one,

and because some might argue that municipal politics is a bone yard anyway

Here is a picture of the traditional Christmas creche that stands outside of St. Catharines City Hall.


Enjoy these last few weeks before Christmas, everyone!

And the Winner Is ...

My assistant gets ready
to pull the name of the winner
of the Magic Pig Wand
out of the hat.

It was a scary moment, but my assistant has nerves of steel.








And The Winner Is:

The Magic Pig Wand is off to B.C. with a little box of chocolates from the Chocolate Store in Ridgeville.

Congratulations Lena!

Ixchel

Image via Wikipedia

"God never changes. Sorry"


That was the last part of a knuckle rapping I took on face book a week or so ago from a woman I didn't know. She had read comment I made to a mutual friend in which I referred to God as 'She'.

The woman meant, kindly I think, to let me know that God is male.

But archaeological evidence has shown that from 25,000 B.C. to the appearance of Abraham in about 1800 B.C. people living in the Near and Middle East prayed to a Supreme female God.

A Goddess of many names, Astarte, Isis, Ashtoreth, etc. who was wise, valiant, powerful and just.

If you read the Old Testament you'll know that eventually the followers of the warlike Yahweh were able to destroy Her temples and either kill or convert Her followers.


But now, a mere 4,000 years later, She's back.


She was called upon last week, under the Mayan name of Ixchel, (the goddess of the moon, reason, creativity and weaving) to guide the delegates who were at the U.N.s Convention on Climate Change.

"May She inspire you -- because today, you are gathered in Cancun to weave together the elements of a solid response to climate change, using both reason and creativity as your tools."

- a prayer by Christiana Figueres,

executive secretary of the U.N. Framework Convention on Climate Change

Of course I don't really think that God the Mother ever really went away.


I think that people are starting to rediscover and honour the female side of God as well as the male.


I also don't think it will be easy, judging by the backlash from one hopeful prayer in Mexico.

Related articles

• UN Climate Summit Leader Prays to Mayan Moon Goddess (michellemalkin.com)
• Yeah, That's Craaazy (oliverwillis.com)

Win a Magic Pig Wand

Remember those Magic Pig Wands from about fifteen years ago?

Remember how you waved them over your food and the Magic Pig would remove all of the calories?

 

Boy, they were great.

I mean you could eat

ANYTHING.

Well I'm happy to say they are back.

Or one is.

I have recently come into possession of the new improved

MAGIC PIG WAND.

 ABSOLUTELY guaranteed to remove all of those nasty calories AND it arrived just in time for the holiday goodie season! 

Made of GENUINE gold, ruby, diamond, pearl, emerald and sapphire

coloured plastic sequins, pipe cleaners, odds and ends  and glass beads!

WHAT COULD BE BETTER?

Would YOU like to own the Magic Pig Wand?

All you need to do is leave a comment at the end of this blog or on my face book page telling me

the name of the city where you spent Christmas of 1989!

I'll put all of the names in a hat and announce the winner

TUESDAY!

I promise to do my best to get the Magic Pig  Wand to

 you

before Christmas. 

I will even mail it to my far flung comrades in Russia if I have to!

Contest closes Moday at 6 p.m. North Pelham Time. (Think Toronto, Nrw York, etc.)

Instructions included.

Just not in Russian.

 

Remember November

, 

Image via Wikipedia

The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Ottawa




That was fast!

It's already time for November's review and update.
Ready?


Here we go:



Some of the Greatest Canadians Were Americans

Remembrance Day month started off with a nod to some of our earliest veterans, the Loyalists.

I've often felt that they are the clue to the elusive Canadian identity.

A quick search of Wikipedia suggested a few characteristics of the Loyalist refugees, Larabee (1948).

What do you think?  Is this us?


a) they resisted innovation

b) they were big on law and order

c) they disliked violence

d) they were procrastinators

e) they liked to take a middle of the road position

f) they lacked confidence in the future



Oh Oh... are you squirming?



But wait! There's one more!



g) they were funny


Feel better?
Me, too.



Grave Faces III

I loved taking these pictures of the faces on some of the cenotaphs in the Niagara area.

Nothing, however, could have prepared me for the one in Welland.

I was shocked by its massive size and its warlike message. It was the last memorial commissioned in Canada to honour the dead of WW I.

It showed no mourning figures though, just a bare knuckled soldier warning that the country would fight to the last man to defend freedom.

The year it was unveiled was 1939.



The Weapon That Won the War in Europe

I laughed when my Dad told me this story.

It is one of the few I know about his experiences during WW II. He said they laughed about it too - after it was over.

And okay, I made up the part about why Hitler killed himself.



A Family Remembers

During WW 1 in small town Ontario, no one delivered a telegram to your door if a loved one was lost overseas.

My grandmother and great-grandmother had to go to the telegraph office to pick up the news of the death of my great uncle, Alexander McKay, at Vimy Ridge.



November Garden

I was absolutely charmed by this chilly, whimsical garden.



Loose Teeth at the UN

Okay so we didn't get a seat on the Security Council at the UN for the first time ever.

Who do they think we are? People who resist innovation? Law and order freaks? Procrastinators? Middle of the roaders? Scaredy cats? People who fear the future?

Jeesh!


But hey, did you hear the one about the Canadian, the American and the giant talking beaver?



The Staples of Life

Because in my heart of hearts I'm really an NDPer who dislikes Jack Layton's policies, I usually feel like a faker when it comes to the Green Party.

I don't feel GREEN enough, or maybe at all. Anyway, I was thrilled to find a real, live, green gadget. At last I'm doing my part.

Saving the world from a few staples counts, right?



The Three Biggies

Can you eat it? Can you have Sex with it? Will it Kill you?



News o' the Week

How sexy is potash in Saskatchewan, eh?

Once I had forced myself to sort of figure out what the whole thing was about, I thought I would force it on my readers.

I'm cruel that way.



Car Insurance. What's Not to Love?

Car insurance companies are going to roll out the big guns and go after people who make fraudulent claims? I'd say great if I thought it would make a difference.

I'll eat the spy car's back fender if our insurance rates go down.



Man-Who-Wanted-a-Wife

This is another story from my years in the Yukon.



Topless in a Jail in Ottawa - a Commentary

Sunday night is when I post a comment about the news of the week - if anything interests me.

The 2008 jailhouse video that was released last week certainly got my attention. I felt myself turn cold as I watched an unresisting woman being manhandled in the Ottawa Police Station.

I did understand that it was just a short clip from what must have been a long event and I really tried to find something in the news stories to justify the police actions.

After having read as much as I could about it and taking into consideration the comments by the judge I have come to the conclusion that for some reason a few police acted like sadistic bullies.

But they were only three or four out of thousands of decent, honourable police officers in the province.

My advice is to scratch that phone number for the Bandido Biker Club off your wall.  If you bother  them you might end up going for a swim in the Welland Canal wearing cement socks.

The police are still the people to call if you are in trouble.



And that's it for November. Tomorrow is December 1.

It is the beginning of the month that Christians celebrate the birth of baby Jesus, the Prince of Peace.


Let's hope in His honour the threat of terrorism and the ominous nuclear sabre rattling in Korea can be resolved.


See you Friday!

Related articles

• Ottawa pauses for Remembrance Day honours - CTV.ca (news.google.com)
• Check if Your Car is Insured for Anyone to Drive Says NRMA Insurance (prweb.com)

Topless in an Ottawa Jail Cell - A Commentary

Image via Wikipedia

I'm afraid I actually laughed out loud when I read the comment, "I'd rather call the Bandidos for help."

The writer was referring to the Ontario Provincial Police, a group someone else had called "the biggest gang in the province".

This hysteria was in response to an article about the release this week of the 2008 jailhouse video of the wrongful arrest of Stacy Bonds.

If you saw it, you'll know the video was chilling - so many police officers and one small woman.

She was charged with assaulting a police officer.


According to the reports, Ms Bond had been visiting a friend that night and was walking home along an Ottawa street after having had a few beers.

The police stopped her and ran her name through their computer. When they found nothing they told her to go home.

And that seems to be when she made her mistake.

She went back and asked them why she had been stopped. Maybe she felt targeted because she was black. Maybe as a law abiding citizen she just felt outraged.

Unfortunately her question seems to have enraged the officers. They arrested her for public intoxication.


The rest you know. She was beaten, strip searched and humiliated, left topless in soiled pants in a jail cell for hours.

The judge dismissed the case against her.

He called the whole thing a "travesty", an "indignity toward a human being..."

At this point it is important to note that the province's Special Investigations Unit has already started to look into the behaviour of the police officers in question. The officer who appears most at fault has been banned from working with the public.


So let's get a grip.

Bandidos.

The guys who like to murder their buddies and leave them in car trunks in the countryside.



Jeesh.

Related articles

• Woman's Abuse in Jail Sparks Outcry [Wtf] (jezebel.com)
• Strip search of Ottawa woman 'troubling,' McGuinty says (thestar.com)

Man-Who-Wanted-a-Wife

When I lived in Dawson City, Yukon, there was a man I avoided as if he had the Spanish Influenza. Not because he was bad looking or smelled or was abusive. I avoided him because he was so needy.

His name was Man-Who-Wanted-a-Wife. Man-Who-Wanted-a-Wife did things for people, particularly women. He majored in being helpful.

But he was so depressing and self-centered that even a few minutes in his company was enough to drive me gratefully back into spinsterhood.

This is not the story of how I discovered his nobler side.

"FIRE! GET OUT! FIRE!"

I recognized the voice. It belonged to a teacher who lived in one of the bottom floor apartments in our 12 unit prefab building.

I heard her start pounding on my neighbour's door.

I hadn't been completely asleep. I had heard the town's fire siren wail a few minutes earlier and had debated about getting up to see what was going on. Fire was a big source of entertainment in Dawson City in those pre-computer days, but it was 11 p.m., extremely cold outside and I had to work the next day. I had decided to stay in my warm bed.

"We're on fire," I thought. "I have to get up!"

I stumbled to the closet, threw my parka over my nightgown, grabbed my mukluks and headed out the door. I could smell smoke.

I ran barefoot down the closest staircase but I pulled up short when I saw the fireman standing in the doorway.

It was Man-Who-Wanted-a-Wife.

It would be hard for any man not to look good in a fire fighter's uniform. He was no exception. I hadn't imagined him doing anything so selfless and brave. I ratcheted up my opinion

But the door to the building was open and it was 30° below zero.

"Have to put my mukluks on," I said to him through chattering teeth.

I fumbled with the long laces.

"Never mind those," he said in a manly voice as he swept me into his arms and carried me next door to safety.

Oops. I lied.

That's not what happened.

Actually he knelt down and slipped the mukluks over my bare legs and then carefully laced them up before he smiled and held the door open so that I could leave safely.

Okay, that isn't what happened either.

The truth is that give me an irritated look and said in his whiny voice, "Well, hurry up, will ya!"

What a crab.

Reality 1, Romance 0.

Your Car Insurance Company. What's Not to Love?

Image via Wikipedia 

Just kidding.

More likely you are horrified when you hear about never ending rate increases, the CEO Christmas bonuses and the profits they rake in year after year while we, the common people, work the ground with our bare and bloody hands trying to eke out a living in this cruel northern vale of tears.

(sob)

Anyway, after working the cruel ground with my bare and bloody hands yesterday, I happened upon a radio talk show quite by accident. It was about a court case in Waterloo where two people were accused of having faked major injuries after a minor car collision.

The insurance company smelled a rat, (or rats), and hired all kinds of lawyers, engineers, doctors, etc. to disprove the claim.

The upshot was that the judge found the couple guilty and they are being forced to repay the company $150,000.

Radio listeners proceeded to phone in with stories about their fellow Canadians ripping off insurance companies.

If the stories were true, and they sounded true, then I'm sad to tell you that there are some despicable people out there.

And insurance companies are apparently starting to mount a serious counter attack against fraudulent claims.

Great.


...I guess...


Call me a cynic but I think it is about as likely - even if they catch every liar and cheat in Ontario - that our car insurance rates will go down as it is that Dalton McGinty and the Liberals will win a majority government in the next Provincial election.


In other words - don't hold your breath.

News o' the Week

Image by Getty Images via @daylife

News o' the Week #1

Like all Canadians when I hear the words 'potash' and 'Saskatchewan' in the same sentence I start to quiver with excitement.

So it is understandable that the country has been in a tizzy recently because of the threat of a takeover of Saskatchewan's foreign owned Potash Corporation by a different foreign company.

I know I was riveted to the CBC.

This past week Prime Minister Stephen Harper finally deep sixed the plan.

We're particular about which foreign company owns our natural resources.


And okay, I admit it. I looked up 'potash' in the dictionary.


Potash: ... substances ... made from wood ashes and used in soap, fertilizers, etc.


Anyway, Saskatchewan has a lot of the stuff, enough to keep the national soap dispensers full for 4,000 years

News o'the Week #2

Prince William announced his engagement to Kate Middleton.

As a wedding gift Canada plans to give them a giant, Inuit hand carved, beaver shaped, soap dish made out of dried moose nuggets.

And a lifetime supply of potash.

The 3 Biggies

Image via Wikipedia

"Can I eat it? Can I have sex with it? Will it kill me?"

Our brains are constantly asking those three questions according to Susan Weinschenk, PhD, author of a blog called "100 Things You Should Know About People".

And she's right.

As a matter of fact a bizillion years ago those were the only questions the primitive reptilian part of our brains had to ask in order to survive and keep the species going.

But the 21st Century has made things a lot more complicated.

Every time your inner reptile answers yes to one of the above questions your post modern brain adds, 'but first consider this...'


Here's what I mean:


Inner Reptilian Brain: Can I Eat It?

Post Modern brain: Wait!   Does it have any trans fat? Low saturated fat? Any preservatives? Low sodium? Low cholesterol? Is it lean? How many calories? How many times did you go to the gym this week?


Inner Reptilian Brain: Can I have sex with it?

Post Modern Brain: Wait!  Is it married? Will it tell your husband, wife, partner? Is it HIV positive? Does it have AIDS, herpes or any other sexually transmitted diseases? Is it a psychopath? Is it a member of, or in any way connected to, the Taliban? Is it, or are you, likely to reproduce if you have sex with it?


Inner Reptilian Brain: Will It Kill Me?

Post Modern Brain: Wait!   Are you asking short term or long term? Is this a mugging? a fire? deep water? a fall? an explosion? an accident? Poison gas? Biological or nuclear warfare? Or is this cigarettes? alcohol? drugs? PCBs? carcinogens? pesticides? mercury, mad cow disease?


 Jeesh!

Well, today I'm here to give you the good news!

My friends, your Post Modern Brain will one day be replaced by your Retired Brain and the answers will be simple again.

The dialogue will go like this:


Inner Reptilian Brain: Can I Eat It?

Retired Brain: Is it chocolate?


 Inner Reptilian Brain: Can I have sex with it?

Retired Brain: A slice of Bavarian Triple Chiocolate Cake is orgasmic and less complicated.


Inner Reptilian Brain: Will It Kill Me?

Retired Brain: If it's chocolate, do you care?




Great news, eh?

And you don't even have to thank me for this information.


Just send chocolate!

***

The Staples of Life

Loose Teeth at the U.N.




Image via Wikipedia

United Nations Security Council Chamber


I was outside supervising the school playground one day many years ago. I spotted a young girl running towards me, waving her arms and shouting frantically.


"Teacher! Teacher!" she screamed.

"What is it? What's wrong?" my voice rose in alarm.

Quivering with excitement she gave me a bloody grin and squealed, "My loose is tooth!"



I think of her sometimes when I hear or read something confusing.


Recently I have been trying to make sense of the fact that for the first time, Canada did not get a seat on the UN's Security Council .

Every Canadian journalist that I have read has blamed somebody or some group, from Islamic extremists to Hilary Clinton to the Liberal Party to our main man himself, the Right Honourable Stephen Harper.

Each is adamant that he or she has the one and only correct explanation for the Security Council debacle.

And most think that Canadains should be ashamed.

For me, sitting here in North Pelham trying to figure out why we didn't get the seat is to get lost in a quagmire of 'loose is tooth', (confusing), journalism.


But in my fruitless search for an explanation I learned that Canada has a record to be proud of at the UN, often being the only country to take a stand and vote against repressive Islamic countries and their allies, (China, Russia, Cuba, Nicaragua and South Africa) .

UN Watch, a Geneva based non-governmental organization gave Canada the highest marks of all UN members for its work in the field of human rights.


I can hold my head up.  And so can you.


Even without a seat on the Security Council.

November Garden

"The gloomy month of November, when the people of England hang and drown themselves."

- Joseph Addison

Well that isn't much fun, is it?

 In Canada, we made our peace with winter long ago. Instead of what are evidently common British activities in late fall, Canadians go to Christmas bazaars!

I don't know about you, but I prefer the Canadian way.

Anyway, I was at a sale of Christmas crafts at a home in Niagara-on-the-Lake last week. It took place in a most enchanting and whimsical November garden. 

These are a few of the pictures I took.

"November always seemed to me the Norway of the year."

- Emily Dickinson

Jeesh!

Even the Americans have a thing against the eleventh month.

Anyway, too bad, so sad for Norway, but hey, Canada, gray skies and drizzle didn't make her think of us!

I suppose we are the Miss January of Emily Dickinson's calendar, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay?

"The acrid scents of autumn,

Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear"

- D. H. Lawrence, Dolor of Autumn, 1916

It was quite startling to find a life size mare standing hidden and watchful in the brown November garden.

I approached the armoured creature with care and she kindly allowed me to take her picture.

"When I look into your eyes

I can see a love restrained

But darlin' when I hold you

Don't you know I feel the same

'Cause nothin' lasts forever

And we both know hearts can change

And it's hard to hold a candle

In the cold November rain."

- Guns N' Roses, November Rain

  I could feel his eyes on me long before I saw where he was standing.  Tall and about my age, I thought he was most attractive.

I tried to strike up a conversation, but he said not a word.

Me thinks he had a wooden heart.

 

See you Monday? 

(Or maybe Sunday night which is when I usually post Monday's blog, which I suppose technically mkes it my  Sunday night blog ... hmmmm.)

A Family Remembers

His Attestation Papers tell us he was born February 15, 1897 in New Haven Scotland. He immigrated to Canada as a child with his parents.

He was 18 years old on January 3, 1916 when he signed up with the Canadian Overseas Expeditionary Force.

His name was Alexander McKay.

He was 5'4" with a fair complexion, blue eyes and brown hair. He had a tattoo on his right forearm.

He was the only boy in a family of six kids. 

My grandmother's little brother.

He died during the battle of Arras near Vimy Ridge in 1917.

19 years old.

But his name has never been forgotten.

There has been an Alexander in every generation of my family since then.

The Weapon That Won the War in Europe

My father, age 18

The next time you find yourself caught in a foxhole, out of ammo and pinned down by Nazi machine gun fire you'd do well to remember the lesson of Canada's most secret weapon of WWII.

My father's infantry unit landed on Juno Beach on D Day + 1.

One day in 1944 he found himself trapped in a foxhole somewhere in France. He was with his best buddy, another kid from Maple Street in Merritton.

They'd been in the hole for days and the only things they could move were their bowels.

When they looked around for something to fight with, all they had were two shovels and a pile of the stuff that usually hits the fan.

Remember when you were in grade five, how the boys used to flick gross things at each other from the ends of their pencils?

It didn't take long for the intrepid young Canucks to substitute a shovel for a pencil and invent the 'The Great Canadian Stink Bomb'.

Eventually, thanks in part to the new weapon, they managed to scramble safely out of the foxhole.

Months later Hitler killed himself.

Rumour has it that he said it was because he just couldn't take any more shit from the Canadians.