Signing to Serve

“Thank you for your service”

five words for a lifetime ~

Each year I think of my

uncles, friends and family 

who joined military ranks ~ all returned with limbs intact, 

but what of minds and hearts?

What of those lives lost?

The only words I do have are:

“Thank you for your service”

“Our country honours those who have served, both past and present, 

in times of war, military conflict and peace.”

~ Lawrence MacAulay, 

former Minister of Veterans Affairs and 

Associate Minister of National Defence

For Maxine

Can each of us be present 

in the rising or setting of the sun, 

or the beginning or ending a life?

Only through our memories,

family stories shared

in laughter and tears.

Such an evening was set on

the prairie where wheat fields grew, 

broad blue sky spanned the horizon.

as family, we were each present

to close one circle and

open it to the next generation.

“Family is found…whether it be blood or circumstance or choice, 

what binds us does not matter. All that matters is that we are bound.”

~ Taylor Jenkins Reid, Malibu Rising

E Maxine Manning nee Newell
December 19, 1928 - March 10, 2022

Chapter Two, Episode 124 - For Gail - Situationally Theirs

For Gail 

They met around the long kitchen table. Cook had provided a large pot of tea, cookies and scones. Digby and Emelina were talking quietly while they waited for everyone to arrive. Dez sat silently beside Matt, his arm around her. A car pulled up outside. “That must be Giles and his family.” Digby went to the door to greet them. Martha and her daughter Joanie sat with Digby, her grandchildren were off in a corner doing homework. Giles sons joined them while the meeting began. Emelina nodded to Digby. He didn’t stand as he usually did at the staff meetings. “I suppose you’re all wondering why we’ve called this meeting so suddenly, so let me explain. Miss Emelina received a call today from the Storyteller with some sad news and a message for us all.” Quiet murmurings around the table stopped as Cook spoke up “We’ve not heard from her since last year. Is she coming out again?” Digby smiled. “No, Elizabeth she hasn’t said anything about that. She has already spoken with Miss Emelina and Miss Dez.” He turned at another car arriving. “So sorry I’m late. Couldn’t get here any faster” Dr. Jeremy came at a rush into the kitchen. Digby moved over so he could sit by his wife. Cook, Samuel and Brigitte were at the far end of the table. 

Digby stood up “Now I think everyone that could come are here. Those few that couldn’t have sent their condolences to the Storyteller. First let me say that everyone on the Estate and connected with the Estate are fine.” He had seen a few worried looks pass from one to another. “The loss is one of our readers. We go about our lives not considering those that may read our stories. They all make our lives rich with reality. One of those good people has left us.” He nodded to his employer and her sister. “Miss Dez, Miss Emelina…..” He gestured for them to continue and he sat by Martha. She gave him his tea.

Dez stood up. “It was the first day of the pandemic, or close to it. I don’t recall. I was alone in jail. That is where this whole story began and where many of our readers started to come with us. Like Digby said, we consider them and we don’t know their names. The message I received from the Storyteller was….” She looked at a the Storyteller’s note. “ ‘Gail was one of the first readers. Throughout the whole lockdown, she read your stories when it had been written daily. We mustn’t forget how important our readers are to keeping us all alive.’ ” A tear slowly crept from one eye. “Em….” She sat down, holding Matt’s hand. 

Standing Emelina said “My story came the next day when I was alone. Everyone had left on the televised advice of Public Health due to the virus. I am forever grateful for all the directions you left for me. In a deep dark place, I had to get my life in order in a hurry. A phone call from the city jail that my sister needed me.” There was a long pause while Miss Em gathered herself together. “We hadn’t seen each other for ten years. And I hadn’t driven for at least four years.” There were sniffles and tears around the table.

Samuel, the ‘man of few words’, had been listening intently. He spoke up. “I didn’t come into the picture ‘til much later. Don’t know much about this Gail or about readers but I’m guessing that she wouldn’t want us all to be snifflin’ and cryin’. She could be lookin’ for some music and a glass of wine. Don’t know but we’d better all cheer up and just be grateful to her and all them readers for making us real.” After Samuel’s long speech, the tissues were put away. Digby went to his office for the bottle of wine he kept for special occasions. Martha and Cook got out the wine glasses, made sure the dust was wiped off them and a toast was made to all readers and especially to Gail.

~~~~

Sarah, the Estate’s little ghost girl, sat up on the ceiling, listening. She whispered over the heads of the gathering. “And all the readers have made me real, too.” The children looked up at her and smiled.

“‘Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse, 

“It’s a thing that happens to you.”

~ Margery Williams Bianco

For Eva

Eva, my son’s sweet and beautiful dog, passed today.

Some things in this world 

happen so suddenly 

it takes our breath away, 

breaks our hearts and 

doesn’t wait for us to keep up. 

We are stopped.

Grasp of reality lost. 

Future no longer exists

Memories try to fill the void

Confidence trembles

Tear stained grasps for solid ground begins 

“…love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”

~ Khalil Gibran

Seven Decades

 

Head bowed ~

Her wisdom remains in

seeds sown throughout

seven decades of service 

Rest in Peace 

Queen Elizabeth II 

21 April 1926 - 8 September 2022 

“Let us not take ourselves too seriously. 

None of us has a monopoly on wisdom.” 

~ Queen Elizabeth II (in her 1991 Christmas broadcast)

Art and How to Play

I spent an hour with my Art and How to Play teacher this morning. As soon as her coat was off, she checked the toy cupboard and found ‘Bubbles!’ Immediately it was time for bubbles. After wet soapy liquid splashed floor, table and fridge, we moved that game outside to the back porch. Jumping and running around the porch, blowing bubbles, then popping them, laughing and excited. This would be repeated two or maybe three or four times. 

Art Class was a bit more ordered. More of a demand than a request she said ‘Colour with me.’ Sitting on the floor with her, I was asked what colour I wanted. If it was not to her liking - and that happened two of three times - I was told ‘No’ and was handed the correct colour. Although I thought I drew a pretty decent flower and house, the art teacher had a more abstract approach. One I’d never thought of before. Arch your wrist back, hold firmly to your marker and hit the tip on the board to create splashes and stripes in blue. With red, it is circles and doodles.The very faint face outlined in the lower right corner, I called a sideways face. With a grin she corrected me - ‘an angry face’. 

Finally concerned with washing off the ‘paper’ (my dry erase board), I gave her a wet rag. She did a swipe and went to get her train…..or was it the plastic fridge magnets?

Then it was time for bananas, orange juice and a cookie!

A good day all around.

“A little nonsense now and then is cherished by the wisest men.”

~ Roald Dahl

Along the Path

A private memorial 

beside a public path ~

cold of winter has not frozen 

the warmth of love for him.

I know not this man 

or those that loved him,

only the honour paid to him 

nine years after his passing.

“like a drop of ink in a glass of milk.”

~ Thrity Umrigar,  The Space Between Us

In Memory of David Glagau

Photo of David Glagau not available to me.

My memory of David is a slow south Saskatchewan drawl. He passed away June 12, 2019 and will be sorely missed by his loved ones. David’s smile, slow to come to his serious face, hid a very dry sense of humour. Previously my brother-in-law, I didn’t know David Glagau well. What I do know is that he was loved by many. When I think of him, I think of cattle, farm machinery, horses and the land. Rest in Peace David. The wide open spaces past this earthly life are now yours to roam.

“The trail is the thing, not the end of the trail.”

~ Louis L’Amour

Memorial for Lynne Margaret Dressler (nee Conley) June 8, 1947 to April 30, 2019

Photo taken September 2013 at
RGH Alumnae gathering
Regina, Saskatchewan

Welcoming, humble and kindly curious ~ smiles and a big laugh. 
Loved to chat and 

visit ~ a graduate with the Class of 1968 RGH School of Nursing. 
A seemingly ordinary, but too ruffled, life, she is troubled no more with worries hidden behind her broad smile. 
Dedicated to nursing and family beyond retirement and time.

“Our job as Nurses is to cushion the sorrow and celebrate

 the job, everyday, while we are “just doing our jobs.”

~ Christine Belle, RN, BSN

A Rose for Aunt Mabel

There are many sad days, but none sadder than when one very cherished life passes from this earth. Today the passing of Aunt Mabel Jones at age 93 is that cloud over the sun. Sad for her family, her friends and the many, many lives that she touched with her smile and her warmth. Looking through old photo albums for a picture of her was unsuccessful. But it will not be necessary. I remember her with great and deep fondness. So the rose is Aunt Mabel ~ sweet and beautiful. 

“An aunt is a safe haven for a child. Someone who will 

keep your secrets and is always on your side.”

~ Sara Sheridan

Passing the Edge

Intriguing experiments are often done at home, usually not accompanied by double blind studies or are ever peer reviewed. I can say I do feel rather blind when I ask myself the question:  ‘I wonder if…….’  As for peer reviews, when it comes to attempting a new culinary challenge, I’ve had many guests ~ friends and family ~ that have provided me with a degree of peer review. Always polite, their truth of these culinary results is often in question. Especially when I know that a dish was too salty, or missing something else, bread too tough, or not strong enough to support the thinnest sandwich. 

Scientific experiments begin with a question, followed by background research and then comes the hypothesis. Clear steps to define procedure, trouble shooting, re-experimentation, results that support or do not support a hypothesis. A ‘home’ experiment really has the same steps - usually beginning with the question: ‘I wonder if…..’ There are times when I do some cursory background research, but when the experiment is about my own abilities there are times even I seem not familiar with them and there is no data base to delve into ~ except maybe years of journals, but journals do not typically provide an index. A much too time consuming bit of research, I have tried and dispensed with it. (Another experiment) But, there is usually a gut instinct that I know the answer. My curiosity often is that I want to find out if I am actually able to answer my own question. Returning to the issue of food preparation, I may wander through my cookbooks for possibilities. The best cookbooks are the ones with pencilled in side notes by previous cooks. I seldom have a hypothesis, as a hypothesis is an educated guess about how things should work. Once again, in my own home, testing my own abilities, if education about home and food is missing from my personal data base, that hypothesis merely becomes a ‘what if?’.

My longest running experiment has been this blog, Standing Still Slowly. I started it in December 2011, at a time when my mood was extremely low, I was relatively new to Victoria and was in new stages of early friendships. My question? I wonder if I can write and post one small piece a day for one year. That year has telescoped into just over seven years. I have learned so much about word crafting, and developed a daily practice for writing. Being accountable to myself and, with much appreciation, to those of you who read my posts regularly has been a real learning curve for this home experiment - no one to set rules for me. From poetry to essay, prose to story with the occasional rant thrown in, I’ve written daily despite my circumstance or my mood. I have included memorials to so many precious family and friends that have passed from this world since opening Standing Still Slowly. On days when circumstance has prevented me from writing a new piece, I have reposted from my personal blog data base.

My new experiment is: ‘I wonder if I can maintain and, at the same time, develop my writing practice both long hand and blog posts on a daily basis for this first year of retirement.’ I feel confidant that I have the ability and the authenticity to dig deeper into this most intriguing experiment, creating a richer data base for any future personal research.

“Life is a concept, like the “universe”, that expands

 as soon as we reach what we think is its edge.”

~ Kamand Kojouri,  author, poet

In Memory - Darryl Ward

Looking through old family photos for a picture of Darryl Ward was not completely futile. Ever the boy, teen and man that brought smiles and laughs to many faces, it was curious that he was not in family pictures in my collection. There was one family picture with Darryl sitting on the front row, but he was in shadow, much like his passing has brought to his family and his friends. I tried to clear it up, but an old picture and my limited technology didn’t allow it. Another photo was of a disgruntled teenage Darryl avoiding the camera. The clear photograph I did find is one that brought a smile to my face as I remember Darryl this day. Darryl’s smiling, clear-eyed, upside-down face ~ a soul that spread joy and fun just because....

“If there ever comes a day where we can’t be together 

keep me in your heart. I’ll stay there forever.”

~ Winnie the Pooh

For David - Rest in Peace

Once more

grief has dealt a heavy hand

this time

tempered with 

peace and ease for

a tossed and troubled soul.

A man who loved

the puzzles and mystery of humanity

working the land for its fruits,

his family more than life itself,

his grandchildren with joy and cheer

his friends always with a helping hand

and he served his country with pride.

A man of simple wants

whose tender and kind heart

could not be hidden

from children or animals

despite a sometimes gruff and stern face ~

kind and twinkling eyes 

gave him away every time.

“When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that 

in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”

~ Kahlil Gibran

In Memory: Charles Patrick Ward

I just went through some old family photos and found this photo taken about 40 years ago on one of many visits to Saskatchewan with Sylvia and the kids. What I remember about Charles - better known as Chuck to most family members -  is his steadfast return to Raymore to visit the family every year, always remembering his mother and ensuring all the cousins grew up together. Probably one of the greatest kindnesses a man can share with his family.

I don’t recall Chuck’s birthday; I will remember that on August 21, 2017 he eclipsed this world. 

Rest in peace, Charles

“May you be in heaven a full half hour before the devil knows you are dead.”

~ Irish Blessing

In Memory of Stuart McLean, Canada's Storyteller (April 19, 1048 - February 15, 2017)

Until I heard the sad news that Stuart McLean had died, I had been struggling to know what I’d write about tonight. It did take me a bit to make the connection with this month’s theme of fun. Since 1994, Stuart McLean has regaled the country, and via the internet, people around the world with fun and humour. Every story, when I’ve listened to his rolling, expressive voice, brought smiles, and many time outright laughter to me. Even on days when things weren’t going so great. Stuart impressed me with his obvious kindness and openness to his audiences, his rambles throughout communities before his shows and gentle way with all ages of people. The Arthur Awards were always fascinating. My copy of an edition of Stories from the Vinyl Cafe has been pulled from my book shelf and will be my bedtime reading for the next couple of weeks. Rest in Peace, Stuart and thank you for the fun you brought into all of our lives.

“After a while, each death feels like all the deaths, 

and you stand there like everyone else has stood there before you, 

while the big wind of sadness blows around and through you.”

~ Stuart McLean, (from a Dave and Morley story)

One Last Pass

In Memory: Sally, Dexter and Dyogi ~ my two grand-dogs and their sister that have passed and are sorely missed.

Cool breeze smooths against my cheek

Sun slowly sets across the water

A lone gull catches a faint air current

For one last pass along Dallas Road Dog Park

Confident in the strength of wind and wing

“It’s very beautiful over there. I don’t know where there is, 

but I believe it’s somewhere, and I hope it’s beautiful.”

~  Thomas Edison Guerrero Barbosa

In Memory ~ Marvin Arbour

Marvin has passed this life too, too quickly

The best picture I could find of this wonderful friend is this photo from a trip to Hornby Island in May 2008 with a group of friends. (I think there were eleven of us that trekked the trails on Hornby.)

A warm and wide smile

Kind eyes and strong welcoming hug

Charming, gentle

This is how I will remember Marvin

Her loss to our community is deep and profound.

There is no bravery in the loss of such a friend ~ only grief

But I suspect that Marvin would not want tears for too long ~ but lots of joy and laughter.

“The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.”

~ Nicolas Chamfort

How Many? Too Many.

How many names?

How many relatives and friends?

What is the centuries old vision that is war?

It does not matter whose flag is flying.

It does not matter the political policies.

It only matters that a soldier’s service be honoured.

Men and women.

Sons and daughters

Moms and dads 

As each war ends, honour must continue

Gratitude that many loved ones came home

Grief and sadness that too many were lost

“We should keep the dead before our eyes, 

and honour them as though they were still living.”

~ Confucius