Circled

It is like the years 

have not passed 

when we order our meals. 

No longer at the cafeteria 

in starched uniforms 

but at a steak house. 

Grandmothers and Aunts 

we were students then, 

our lives washed with careers, 

communities and families 

have circled back to 

renew laughter and care.

“It is more fun to talk with someone who 

doesn’t use long, difficult words but rather 

short, easy words like “What about lunch?”

~ A.A.Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

On an Afternoon Walk ~ Pretty Faces

Of the many fascinations I see along the streets, these pretty faces peeked out at me surrounded by brilliant green, orange and purple plantings ~ like the pretty faces of babies and children in families and communities large and small. Their progress through life depends on the foundation they are given.

“The innocence of a child is like a delicate flower, 

easily crushed by the harsh realities of life.”

~  Ian McEwan, The Innocent

A Day Off

Everyone needs a day off. Even us retired folks. So after just smidge of laundry, and a couple of hours of whatever else I did, I set off for Government House for tea with friends - and a ballroom full of other ladies, and one man. Before the tearoom doors opened we took a stroll through a display and sale of donated jewelry and china held monthly by the Government House Historical Society. At precisely 1pm we were ushered into the ballroom cum dining room. A pianist greeted us with Climb Every Mountain and accompanied us through our lunch of dainty sandwiches, tea and cakes. We talked. We laughed. 

My first visit to Government House in Regina on manicured, lovely grounds, and on such a beautiful day, was a real treat. 

“When I have a day off, 

I will have a day off.”

~ Andrew Flintoff

To Be or Not

Is there any purpose? 

Should any of us be here? 

Does any of it matter? 

Seeking purpose, the answer is seldom in my mailbox or in a phone call, so

I am offered two choices:  

throw a fine pity party or

wiggle my toes in the sand 

gaze at the vast, blue sky, 

say goodnight to the stars in the sky, 

dance on the ground beneath my feet

and share in this great community

witnessing it all while I 

live, love and have fun

leaning into life as it is and as it becomes

accepting cloudy days and the blossoms of spring 

most of all to cherish family and friends.

“Yes, I know: the thread you have to keep finding, over again, 

to follow it back to life; I know. Impossible, sometimes.”

~ Jean Valentine, Door in the Mountain: 

New and Collected Poems 1965-2003

 

What's Next?

Bus schedules, traffic lights 

roadways, water, electricity and heat ~ all community infrastructure holding us together, living space for the real community 

the people that have raffles, 

jumble sales, and hockey games, craft and bake sales, art displays, summer and winter events and everyone that sees a world 

sparkling with joy and difference ~ 

a world so new to me, 

yet as old as my childhood memories,

and on the edge of this new circle, 

as nervous as that little girl, 

my next experience awaits……..

“Pull up a chair. Take a taste. Come join us. Life is so endlessly delicious.”

~ Ruth Reichl, American food writer

Movie Review: A Man Called Otto directed by Marc Forster

I’ve not cried in a movie for a very long time. Or had such a good laugh! The opening scene in a hardware store assures us that Tom Hanks (Otto) is a grumpy, and quite unpleasant, old man. He patrols his neighbourhood with an almost religious fervour. Meeting cheerful neighbours in this morning patrol is met with a barely heard grunt and a sour face. Then new neighbours move in. The wife, Marisol, (Mariana Treviño) is yammering at her husband Tommy (Manual Garcia-Rulfo) in Spanish directing him to park their small car and U-Haul. The husband does not know how to parallel park properly at all. To shut up the noise, Otto bolts across the street, directs the parking process, and when that is unsuccessful growls at poor Tommy to get out of the car and give him the keys. Otto does it himself. When he has the phone, power and lights turned off, it is curious but seems in character. As the story unravels we learn Otto’s back story that has pushed him away from living. Mariana, however, is persistent, pregnant and has two young daughters. She gives him home prepared meals. Her daughters ignore Otto's grumpiness and insist that he read them stories. Throughout the movie, with each unsuccessful attempt to join his beloved Sonya (Rachel Keller), he is called on to help one of his neighbours. He goes willingly and with much frustration. Later scenes at this wife’s gravesite are poignant and tell us of his deep grief. A very touching and very real story, toward the end he is known as Abuelo Otto. How he gets there is the story.

“Of all the imaginable things he most misses about her, the thing 

he really wishes he could do again is hold her hand in his.”

~ Fredrik Backman, A Man Called Ove

Directed by: Marc Forster

Based on the novel: A Man Called Ove written by Fredrik BackmanWriting Credits: David Magee, Fredrik Backman, Hannes Holm

Abbreviated Cast: 

Tom Hanks - Otto

Mariana Treviño - Marisol (neighbour)

Manuel Garcia-Rulfo - Tommy (Marisol’s husband)

Christiana Montoya - Luna (Marisol’s daughter)

Alessandra Perez - Abbie (Marisol’s daughter)

Juanita Jennings - Anita - neighbour

Peter Lawson - Reuben- Anita’s husband

Cameron Britton - Jimmy (lives with Anita & Reuben)

Mack Bayda - Malcom (paper delivery)

A Silly Story

A Silly Story

The town of Gnatsbridge was barely a spot on the map. Only its name was a curiosity. Curious enough to attract the occasional passing tourist. Passing may be a bit of a stretch. Gnatsbridge was five kilometres off the main highway and one hundred km  from the nearest city. One restaurant was attached to a small motel, elegantly named the Grand Gnatsbridge Motel. To get to this quaint little town, there was a bridge to cross. An old wooden bridge over the Gnat River.  

Each tourist that detoured to Gnatsbridge for gas, for a night off from the road, or just because was treated to Ma Malarkey’s story of how the town got its name. No one really knows if it’s true because Ma is the oldest woman in town. She was just under four feet ten, her long white hair was piled randomly on her head. A navy dress with tiny flowers was her uniform along with blue suede track shoes with white soles. She always carried a stack of Gnatsbridge Sights pamphlets in her voluminous apron. “Well now, I’ve got you in Unit 105 and I’ll walk you down there, show you where everything is.” 

“In 1905, when my great-grandfather homesteaded here, the river was barely a stream. Always clouded with flying bugs. Oh, he hated those wicked things. But, the town, struggling as it was, needed a bridge to get to the next town….that town’s gone now but they still needed a bridge to get to the main road. In those days, horse drawn wagons brought goods in from other towns. And we’re so glad you’re here but you wanted to know how our town was named…..you did, didn’t you?” Ma didn’t wait for a reply. “Well, building that bridge with only picks and shovels, hammers and nails was a big, sweaty job. The men complained and complained about the bugs. They fought them off ~ swarms of them, clouds of them very unhappy with having their stagnant river home disturbed. One day they were particularly bad. My great-grandfather told me ~ so I know it’s true ~ that all the men threw their tools down and left him alone. All of them grumbled but one of them hollered “You and those damn gnats and have their bridge!” Great grandfather smiled and said ‘Gnatsbridge. That’s what I’ll name the town.’

The man and woman looked at each other, rolling their eyes. She whispered to her husband “Do we dare ask how one man could name a town?” He looked panicked, shaking his head wildly. She touched Ma’s shoulder to stop her. Ma stopped in her tracks. “Yes dear? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no. It’s just that my husband and I are extremely tired. You know, we’ve been driving a long time. We’ll freshen up and go to the restaurant for supper and it’s off to bed for us!”

“How disappointing! I’m not working in the restaurant tonight. But that’s ok, I’ll finish my story in the morning. You dears get a good supper and good sleep. Check out time isn’t until 11a.m. so we’ll have lots of time to chat in the morning.” 

~~~~~

Mr. and Mrs. Jones left at 4 a.m. leaving their key on the table, thanking the credit card gods that their payment had been made.

“Stories are like children. They grow in their own way.”

~ Madeleine L’Engle,  A Swiftly Tilting Planet

Author’s note: This story grew out of a writing exercise on the website writingexercises.co.uk 

The exercise: Town Name Generator: First I was to generate a town name: Gnat came up. The second step was to choose an ending. I chose: bridge. I liked the silliness of the name and a story began to form. It was fun!

Book Review - Crossroads - My Story of Tragedy and Resilience as a Humboldt Bronco by Kaleb Dahlgren

When he was two and a half, Kaleb got his first pair of skates. At age five, Kaleb Dahlgren was diagnosed with Type I Diabetes. Then he began his journey from Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan towards the Humbolt Bronco’s hockey tragedy in 2018 and finally to Toronto and the York Lions. When I opened this fascinating read, I expected the tragedy to take front and centre. However, Kaleb Dahlgren painted a picture of much more.  His parents, both nurses in long term care, provided him with the stability that would carry him through everything that occurred in the next many years. They supported him in his goals and his dream of playing hockey. They were a hockey family in a hockey province. 

I was away from Saskatchewan for over thirty years and had gotten away from this great prairie tradition. Kaleb Dahlgren described hockey games like a play by play from the games. It took me back to going to hockey games in my home town as a teenager. Feeling the cold on my face, the tips of my fingers tingling with cold, and best of all, the cutting scrape of skate blades on the ice. The bang and slash of sticks reaching for the speeding puck. Hockey players slamming against the boards. 

He delved, with pride and affection, into the team building and community activities he and his teammates were engaged in as hockey teams. While creating these lasting bonds, he also began a program he dubbed Diabeauties for kids with diabetes, to provide them with the support and education he had wanted in his young years. He listened to and honoured his coaches, his trainer and his doctors. By his own admission, his memory of the accident in 2018 that killed sixteen of his close friends and team mates is spotty at best. He still lives with severe brain trauma that has stumped his physicians. He has gone on to University at York University in Toronto and was a member of the York Lions. He has relied on his parents, his many friends and the help of author, Dan Robson to write his story. He has had accolades from several in the hockey world including Wayne Gretzky and Hayley Wickenheiser.

This book will stay my book shelf, my attempt at culling my books, sidelined. 

“Writing this memoir was challenging, emotional, 

cathartic and enlightening. I was able to reflect on all 

the various crossroads in my life, the people who helped 

me navigate them, and those who have 

shaped me in to the person I am today.”

~ Kahleb Dahlgren, Crossroads

Raising the Bar

The COVID bar is raised ~

edging higher while

our smiling faces peer

cautiously through 

anxious fences of community.

“Life has got all those twists and turns. 

You’ve got to hold on tight and off you go.”

~ Nicole Kidman

*Response to the climbing COVID cases.

Off Shore

We’ve been floundering

just off shore ~

our communities,

our families

kept from us

the winds of 

science and politics that

push us forward slowly

~ holding us still ~

pushing us forward again

Living within our bubbles,

our connections stretched ~

fear of no longer belonging

floundering through each day

making lunch.

“A dream you dream alone in only a dream. 

A dream you dream together is reality.”

~ John Lennon

In the Trenches

Considering the pros and cons of my life on this day of Remembrance, I thought of my uncles that fought in World War II and of the battles fought daily in communities, hospitals and care homes. Their enemy was visible and vicious, battling in bloody combat while in and out of muddy, cold trenches. We are in another kind of war today on a global scale. Our enemy is invisible and vicious. The frontlines are not only in one community or just across the ocean, but around the world. In communities of any size. In this country, our soldiers have worked with and supported our hospital staff, still putting their lives at risk.

Then there are those of us who are not even close to the front lines. It is difficult to believe the reality of this virus, this Covid19 coronavirus, when a loved one has not been ill or lost. If it was not for the dedication of our Public Health officials and most government officials, we could have lost this battle long ago. Closing our doors to those outside of our ‘bubbles’, keeping us out of gatherings, whether spiritual, celebratory or funereal, only speaking to one another via text messaging, video chats or telephone, no longer going shopping easily. All are downsides - school disruptions, freedom of movement sharply curtailed. And masks. We are implored to wear masks to decrease the transmissibility of this rapidly travelling virus. 

Today, I sat in my cosy living room, reading a recently published biography for book club over Zoom only getting up to refill my coffee, disturbing my cat that lay on my lap. Comfortable, warm and dry, I realized that we are all in the trenches. In hospitals, in care homes and even in our private homes. Sadly, there have been far too many that have lost their lives in this war that will end, but seems endless. 

On this day of Remembrance, I remember all the soldiers in the many wars of this world  - young men and young women - who have given so much to all of us. I am both saddened at their loss and very grateful for their service. 

“The living owe it to those who no longer 

can speak to tell their story for them.”

~ Czeslaw Milosz, “The Issa Valley”

Chapter One, Episode 25 - From Here to There - Situationally Theirs

May 31, 2020

Review, Edit and Update

In From Here to There, Emmie's conversation with her sister Dez from the previous night has woken her early. Their discussion continues when Dez is awake and up; Emmie still becoming aware of what she does have in her life.

This Episode only required a bit of fixing:  a couple of typos and the addition of some detail. Otherwise, a pretty good read.

From Here to There

It was early morning. The sun slanted through the mudroom window, throwing a broad patch of brilliance through the kitchen door onto the well worn hardwood floor. Emmie came out of her room, pulling her blond hair back into a pony tail. Oddly, she wore an oversized grey t-shirt and loose fitting green plaid flannel pants, rather than her silk pyjamas. She had kept some of Mike’s things to wear when she was missing his love and belief in her. Emmie was in deep thought. Mechanically, she put water in the coffee machine, counted out scoops of coffee, put the pot under the spout and turned it on.  Resting her hands on the cupboard she hung her head, then straightened her shoulders and looked around. Bread for toast. I’ll have some toast. I need to get Cook back here to make more bread. I think this is the last loaf. Her forehead wrinkled. She wiped her hand across trying to smooth the worry down. She muttered something to herself, whispering so she wouldn't wake Dez. While she waited for the coffee to finish burping and dribbling she put the bread in the toaster. Without looking, she opened the blue cupboard door. A plate. I need a plate for my toast. This one will do. White with tiny blue flowers circling the rim, it was usually reserved for a serving plate. The butter and a knife are right here. Did I get those out? But there’s no jam. Emmie opened another cupboard door and reached for a mug. Before closing the cupboard door, she hesitated and stared into the cupboard as though looking for something. She closed the door gently. The coffee ready, she filled her mug with the steaming aromatic liquid. With her coffee in one hand, she picked up her plate of toast and set it down at the long kitchen table. Sitting down, she smoothed imaginary wrinkles on the table top, looked up and down its length as though she was trying see everyone. All those people she had employed that had shared a meal or just a cup of tea or coffee. Laughing and talking. 

“Emmie? What are you doing up so early? It’s just after seven." Dez yawned and stretched.

“oh, hi, Dez. I just couldn’t sleep so I thought a cup of coffee would be nice. When I saw Cook’s bread, I thought I’d have some toast. Did I wake you?”

Dez smiled as she combed her fingers through her long brown curls. She leaned back against the door jamb, knocking the frame of Martha’s precious pictures askew. She straightened it, then with a shiver she said “I’m cold. Let me grab my hoodie. Did you make enough coffee for both of us? That’s actually what woke me up ~ that and the toast. Put a couple of slices in for me, would you?” Dez leaned into Martha’s room, grabbed her deep purple hoodie pulling it over her head. “That’s better. Thanks. That coffee smells so good. Now tell me what’s wrong and don’t tell me nothing’s wrong because I won’t believe you.’

“Where do we start, Dez? I couldn’t stop thinking about everything you said last night. That I hadn’t taken everyone or everything into consideration when I wanted set up something for a couple of health care workers. So they could come here and not have to take the possibility of infection home to their families. How could I ask the rest of you to expose yourselves to satisfy my whim? I still want to do something. I can’t just sit out here and do nothing while you have to work and I’ve got so much.”

“That’s where we start then, Emmie.”

Emmie looked at Dez blankly. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Emmie, you can’t be serious. What I mean is look at what you have, and I don’t just mean the money Mike left you.” Dez was, in fact, irritated that Emmie only thought about dollars and that seemed to be all she knew. Dez struggled to make ends meet. Had to be real creative many times about what she could do with what little she had. Here was her sister, feeling sorry for herself and not knowing what to do next. But, she would be patient. Her big sister was wrestling with not knowing. Not being in control. 

“Really, Dez, I am serious. I don’t know what you mean. I’ve been given or bought everything all my life. Even when we were kids, I got most of what I wanted.” Emmie grinned. “I did have to do a lot of talking sometime.”

“I know. I watched you twist Dad around your little finger. You were pretty good at that. But seriously. Grab your coffee and come with me.” Dez headed up the oak stairs to the second floor. 

“Where are we going? Why are we going upstairs? I went through everything up there yesterday.”

“Stop asking questions and follow me. It has nothing to do with the upstairs. Here. Stand in front of this window.” Dez had set her coffee down on the dining room table and opened the curtains that faced west. The sun was sending tentative fingers around the house beginning to light up the scene before them. “Look.”

“Look at what? What am I supposed be seeing?”

Dez had to take a deep breath ~ in fact she had had to take a lot of deep breaths around Emmie this last while. “You’re supposed to be seeing what I’m seeing. The huge garden you have and the land around it.” 

“What good is all of that? .,,,,,,,,Oh……I think I get it?” The light was dawning slowly in Emmie’s eyes. “But I haven’t had the gardener and yard man here for ages. I don’t even know if anything got planted. There probably isn’t anything much in the ground yet because it’s only April. I’m not a farmer or a gardener but I think it’s still too early. But I have another question, Dez. What if this Covid thing is over before we’re ready be of any help?” 

Another deep breath. This is my older sister, right? Right. And I’m supposed to be the wise one in all of this? “Let’s go back down to the kitchen where it’s warmer. I don’t think you have to worry about this ‘Covid thing’ being over any time soon according to the experts, but if it is there will still be a lot of people needing someone to help them out. What’s important is that you have what so many don’t have, and I’m not talking about the dollars. I’m talking about the land. You have a garden that is only taking up a small part of your 30 acres. If you made a bigger garden….but I’m getting ahead of myself. I just wanted you to see what is right around you.”

“My original idea was to provide at least two beds for healthcare workers to use so they won’t have to go home. You showed me that I hadn’t really thought about it all. And now you start talking about the land? You’ve just made this bigger than even I thought about. Now I really don’t know where to start.” Emmie poured another cup of coffee. “Where I’ll start is where we left off yesterday. I need to talk to Digby, Martha and Cook and see what they think of my idea, and whether we can make it work. Digby will know how to contact the gardener/yardman to see what work he will be starting. I hope and want them all to be well. I’ll see if there is a website, maybe you can help me with that, for volunteers for providing extra beds and what rules need to be followed.” Emmie’s coffee growing cold, she had her notebook and was busily writing all of this down as she talked. Dez just sipped on her second cup of coffee, watching her big sister take control.

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. 

You can steer yourself, any direction you choose.”

Dr. Seuss,  Oh, the Places You’ll Go