Weekly Musings of the 31st

 

This week was a completely quiet, lazy week.  Next one I start off with a mammogram so you can tell how that one might be.  I choose this picture to start because it really touched my heart.  I really thought on it, when you don't think you matter or are making a difference or whatever negative thing gets going in your head, NO ONE else can sing YOUR song.  

Hubby wrote about his brother Serge this week and that was a hard one for him.  He has always had deep feelings for that brother who was so special and it is difficult to express it. 

I have been mostly unsettled this month and can you believe the first month of 2025 is behind us?  As I seemed to jump from project to project I realized the one that was missing - The Bible In a Year was the one I missed the most.  So, today I printed up the reading plan and last night started it up for the 5th time.  It will only take a little while of doubling up the days until I catch up and am good with that.  

I was surprised at how much I missed these daily podshow episodes until I past the month without the bible episodes.  Each year that I have done this I have found more and more in the pages especially how much the old testament reflects things that are happening today.

Speaking of today our trump-like premier has done the idiot thing of calling yet another election, a whole year before he is suppose to.  He thinks since he has been bellowing over border stuff and tossing money at families (amounts which will not really do a bit of good) we will forget all the stupid things he has done and vote for him again.  The motto for this election should be - any party but Ford's party.  A lot from his party are running as independent and probably will get voted in.  Well, at least we don't have to put up with the ads longer than a month.  DD has put in to work the election and advance days as she has done it before and it is good money for a day's job.  

So, not too much done except for lots of reading and that is always a good thing.  Have a great weekend.

 

Books - A Scottie Ramone Cozy Mystery (Yes and No)

 

Cute, is what can be said about this series.  The Prequel in the first book is really necessary to fill out the reasons for moving and how the bakery can be opened.  It isn't very deep at all and you can pretty much figure it out once a very minor character is introduced (they did it).  The interest in a old flame and new, sure that hasn't been done before is interesting at best. 

"For amateur sleuth Scottie Ramone, the only thing better than a hot, fresh cinnamon roll is an intriguing new mystery to solve!
Scottie recently made some life-changing decisions. (One might even call them rash.) She’s turned her whole world upside down and desperately wants to set it upright. After wallowing for a good month in her grandmother’s cottage in Ripple Creek, the small mountain town where she spent most of her childhood, Scottie sets off, determined to leave the past behind and fulfill her dream of starting a bakery.

In the midst of planning her new business, Scottie learns how to tamp down feelings for her childhood crush, meets new, interesting friends and stumbles upon a murder. It’s not the first time Scottie’s found herself at a murder scene and, once again, she’s intrigued. Now, the question is—was this a case of mistaken identity or did the killer know exactly what they were doing?"

I, of course, got this as a freebie through BookBub and after reading it would say that spending more than $1.99 or getting it free is the only way you should bother.  As a freebie it is a cute read but paying full price certainly not worth your money.  

Book 5 is out and book 6 is in the wings for later this year.  I only bother with them if they come out as a free bargain but not to buy.

At this point I am a bit curious about her new beau and her old one but that is about it.  

"It’s a crisp autumn in Ripple Creek, and Scottie Ramone is busy baking pumpkin pies for the town’s pie eating contest. Business is great, but her social life is still in tatters. She’s avoiding one man and the other has left town for a very prolonged book tour. She knows definitively which way her heart is leaning, but is it too late?

In the meantime, the pie contest ends in disaster when one of the contestants dies right after eating her pie. Scottie is desperate to find the killer and clear her name, but there are many directions to turn, and it seems everyone has a motive. Customers are canceling their holiday orders, and if Scottie doesn’t solve the case soon, her bakery will be ruined."

Oh yeah, and her old beau not liking her assistant (long story) gets tiresome real quick.  All in all, if you get it free it is about a cute hour read or so but do not waste your money on this series. 

Serge by Robert

 

A lot of times, when we got together, our conversation would turn to our brother Serge. He was born in March 1956. Shortly after he came home, he began to have convulsions. After a slew of exams, it was discovered he had a brain tumor. An operation was necessary, since he wouldn’t live past 2. He lived to the age of 55 and died due to complications of a flu. Not covid, but just as bad.

The operation was successful, but he did have some disabilities. His left side was always weaker than the right and it also affected his brain. He did things that we laugh about now, some were funny, but others were dangerous.

For some reason he never picked on me as he did with my other brothers, however his favorite person to do things to was Uncle Roy. I’ve always wondered if Uncle hadn’t used the words, “don’t you dare”, he would not have been as frequent a target for Serge’s tricks.

It was almost a daily routine, when Uncle Roy came in after work, suddenly an air

Robert, Denis and Serge

inflated ball would strike him in the chest or head. Thank God he always wore a safety helmet. Uncle Roy even tried to change entry, still the ball came flying from that hallway and got him every time. One meal time, Serge was at the far end of the table while Uncle Roy was at the other. Serge was holding a spoon since we had soup. Uncle Roy looked up and said. “Don’t you dare throw that spoon at me.” Serge put his spoon down into his bowl and everyone continued to eat. Serge however moved his spoon around so that the spoon handle was away from himself. He then tapped the end of the spoon handle, causing the spoon to fly out of his own bowl. In a great arch it flew across the table and landed in Uncle Roy’s bowl splashing the soup up onto Uncle Roy. One morning as Uncle Roy was putting on his work boots, he suddenly asked. “Who put this sucker in my boot?” All was quiet for a few moments when Serge said. “Did you find two?” Sure enough the other boot had a sucker in it.

One day Uncle Roy had taken Serge for a drive. On the way home Serge said. “I want out.” Before Uncle Roy could explain he couldn’t stop at that moment, Serge pulled the car door handle and opened the door. Uncle Roy was fast enough to grab a hold of Serge before he got out.

Apparently one afternoon he played a trick on Aunt Maggy. I wasn’t there to witness it, but from what I heard it happened like this.  Aunt Maggy was sitting in the rocking chair and had fallen asleep. Serge undid the belt at the back of her apron and tied her to the chair. He lobbed the ball at her, which woke her up. As she tried to stand to go after him she fell over. Fortunately she wasn’t hurt.

I’m sure my other brothers could add more stories. As for me, I was very lucky. My mother always remarked that he was always jealous of any girl I brought home. For this reason I would always make sure no girl was left alone with Serge. There was one exception. I had brought a new girlfriend home and we were in the living room along with Serge listening to music. At one point I asked her to follow me to get a drink in the kitchen. I tried to explain to her that it would be better for her to come along, having given her a bit of a warning about Serge and his tricks. Her reply was that she had worked with kids at camp and could handle the situation. I knew something had gone on, when I saw Serge do a little dance step in the hallway as I was heading back. When I arrived in the living room the girl was sitting bent over trying to catch her breath. When she finally recovered from the blow to her stomach, she said. “Boy, he’s fast, I never saw it coming.” She never did sit alone with Serge afterwards. I do remember when I yelled at him for doing it.  He gave me a look, I’ll never forget.  I’ve seen that look on many patients while I worked in the hospitals over the years.   It’s the look of someone in pain, near tears. I don’t recall ever yelling at him again.

The one thing that would keep Serge calm, was music. He would sit and rock as music from the record player went on. Sometimes we would both sing along with the music and sometimes I would sing for him.  On one occasion I was singing and forgot a verse from the song. I just sang la la la till I remembered the rest of the song.  He waited until I had finished and smiled and said. “You forgot.” and then sang the verse perfectly.  He loved Elvis, songs, movies and even pictures of Elvis.  I don’t think there isn’t a song Elvis sang that Serge didn’t know by heart.

Every few months, Serge would undergo follow up exams at the hospital. It was always Mom who would go along with him.  One day upon returning home, she said to Dad.   “I can’t do this anymore, you will have to come with me.  He’s out of control.”  Apparently on the way home, he had started to throw pebbles at her as they were walking, forcing her to duck and weave around.  Perhaps it seemed I had the knack of calming Serge down, when the next visit came along, I went with them. Serge was calm while we waited and, when the doctor called his name, Mom went into the room with Serge.  I stood to join them, but the doctor insisted I remain in the waiting area.  It wasn’t long before Mom and Serge came out.  She was holding him by the arm real tight.  She looked more embarrassed than angry. As we walked out she related how Serge had asked for a glass of water. Mom had told the doctor he didn’t need water since Serge had drunk water from the fountain in the waiting room, just before they went into the exam room. The doctor insisted on pouring a nice tall glass of water. Serge sat a few moments holding the glass. As the doctor started to ask questions about Serge’s behaviour since the last time he was examined, he found himself wet from face to chest from the water Serge had thrown at him. Fortunately Serge had kept a good grip on the glass. The next time I went with Mom and Serge I was invited to attend the exam.

Serge and Marcel at Smith Falls

His tricks got more and more dangerous as he grew older and he finally had to be placed in a special care home, in Smith Falls Ontario. By that time I was in the army so I wasn’t there when he was driven to his new residence. Uncle Roy went along as Mom and Dad drove Serge down. Uncle Roy would always recall how he himself broke down in tears, when Serge began to sing a french song. Just a few words of translation here. “Why have you broken my heart?”

He lived in Smith Falls quite a few years, until the government decided to close the place. We visited often over the years and

Serge, Denis and Marcel

would bring him home on holidays. He was controlled with medication which helped a lot.

The first time Alicia met Serge was when I brought him home for a visit. She had never met Serge before but had been around long enough to hear all the stories of Serge’s tricks, especially to my girl friends. It was a Friday and I had picked him up at the residence and brought him to our apartment. I had to go into the office and since this was to be a surprise for the spaghetti night, I left him in the care of Alicia. I knew she was worried, but told her as I left to just let him watch a movie and I would be right back. There was a look of relief on her face when I came in after a couple hours. To this day she maintains that she never bothered to rewind the movies she put on, just put the next movie on right away.

Mom learned to drive in her sixties. On one occasion I arrived at her house and Serge was there. Mom had gone and picked him up. I asked Serge how was the drive home. “It was pretty good.” He replied and added. “Even when she drove into the field and came out again with no problems.” Apparently she had gone off the road.

I have a lot of great memories of Serge. I sometimes wonder, if the calming effect I had on him would have lasted longer, if I hadn’t joined the army and left home, when he was 8.

Serge

Spaghetti Night

 

I was thinking of recipes this morning and blogging when I suddenly was remembering our Friday nights at hubby's mother's.  First off I must say that Georgette would have never been know for her cooking.  In fact all of her sons would be complimenting their wives when they said - you don't cook like my mother.  

There was one recipe she made that I am sure she was told to be careful not to burn the marrow but she heard that she must burn it and when she did the stench was awful.  She, also didn't believe in lower fat meats and all her ground beef was medium or more (if she could get more) she believed that the higher the fat, the better the dish.  She baked with lard and could not believe that anyone could cook without it.  I remember her calling up to me (when we lived in the apartment upstairs) if I had any lard as she was out.  She was stunned to hear that I never used the stuff.  

Now Friday night became Spaghetti Night for the family.  Her home was in the center of the city and everyone could easily meet there and all the brothers came with their wives and their children.  Only one cousin couldn't make it very often and that was because he was working in a restaurant those nights and he was also much older than the others.  All our children were around the same age at the time and since there was a park to play in at the end of the block, they were out there playing, chatting and whatever they could get up to without adults around.  Friends of the children were welcome, so were friends of the family too.  My parents were able to attend a Spaghetti night dinner and those two 'only-children' were a bit out of their depth.  My sister and her family were in attendance when they came to Ottawa to visit too.  Everyone and anyone was welcome to be there to enjoy a spaghetti dinner.

Georgette and a cousin of the boys

Now you wonder when I said about her poor cooking skills how she managed to put on such a dinner and yes, she did make the sauce herself.

She, also, never browned the ground beef before putting in the pot with the rest of the ingredients.  The uncooked ground beef went in with everything else early in the morning and then she would put it on simmer for the whole day.  The good part was that the meat was indeed cooked through before serving but the downside was all the fat was in the pot too.  She would call it the extra gravy in the sauce.  One thing the family knew was that everyone would be pretty regular after that meal.

The table was full of family and fun.  Conversations both in English and in French would fly around the table and people would be coming and going from the home.  Whether the cooking was all that great or not, whether the spaghetti stuck in the pot, none of that mattered.  All that mattered was the family was together enjoying family stories and the goings on of the week past.  

Favourite Walker - Nomadic Ambience

 

Hubby has been fighting off a cold that just seems to go away for a time and then come back through most of the winter and so his writing has taken a pause.  I have another walker who I love to watch, especially his walks in the woods in the rain.  

https://www.youtube.com/@NomadicAmbience  First I shall put the link to head over just in case and below I am adding my most favourite walk of Nomadic Ambience.  

It is a walk in the Stone Mountain Park in Georgia.  For the longest time I didn't know where it was just was blown away by seeing the cliff and then the waterfall.  

When one cannot get out to the woods for a nice walk this video walker will take you there.  

Have a great week ahead

and hopefully hubby will be back to his old writing self soon.

Weekly Musings of the 24th

 

Wow, this week was a cold one but then again it is January and what do we expect in January in Canada.  The week started with our anniversary which was quiet but lovely together.  We went out to dinner at our favourite restaurant and enjoying out favourite dishes there.

My homemade lasagna is pretty good but I enjoy someone else making it too and this place is a very close second.  We always start our meal with a Spanish Coffee, instead of finishing it off.  It is kind of an 'our' thing and this 36th anniversary was no different.

Even though it was cold with the exception of a couple of stairs days, hubby and I were able to do the parking lot walk.  It really is the safest when you have no clue where the ice could surprise you.  

Our little gnome managed to glow a bit but not for too long but I thought it looked great with the snowy background.

With snow and ice and cold temperatures it was certainly a week of reading cozy mysteries and listening to music.  Although the interesting thing I have found is that what is considered 'cold warning' days are about half as cold as it was a few years ago.  As a kid when we were still using Fahrenheit -5F as a kid meant you were out all day playing in the snow, mind you there was way more snow on the ground than there is today.  Convert that and you see that -5F is actually -20C and every kid is kept in at school for such a cold temperature today.  Of course, the guy who figured out wind chill hadn't done that yet so the temperature was considered the temperature and wind chill was never mentioned.  I kind of wonder if it actually is a good thing to know that.  This week they screamed about it being too cold based on the wind chill and not the temperature although I found when I was out in the sun on those -6C days (+21F) it really wasn't so bad at all, sure the wind was chilly but with a scarf and hat and bundled in layers it was pretty good.  My walks waited until the afternoon when all snow was melted away on the parking lot and I enjoyed the fresh air.  

Political talks on the news were frantic although I think a certain someone really loves to stir the pot and watch people freak out.  I think he says stuff and then sits back and laughs at us all.  

We decided to pull out old MASH episodes and watch that instead.  As you can see Tigger enjoyed it too.  

I am not sticking my head in the sand but waiting to see what actually happens.  I mean it reminds me of kids yelling at each other - If you do this, then I am going to do that!  And the news thrives on it.  They no longer report on actual happenings in the whole world but just stuff that might happen that sounds awful.  You know news people there are way more awful things and good things happening in the world than what someone says they might do.  That person is laughing at you.  

Anyway, that is my rant of the week and my last rant about someone who loves to laugh at other countries at things he says he might do.  Make a plan if things are done but then shut up, do not give him the attention.  

  I just love this image, and I cannot believe how fast it flew.  Anyway, that is our week and time together,  enjoy your weekend (which for retired people is pretty much the same as the week days - LOL) 

Books - A Lucy Stone Mystery

If you are a fan of the Cookie Jar Mysteries with Hannah then you will probably enjoy Lucy Stone.  I find Lucy Stone Mysteries to have a bit more depth to them.  Especially the second one and things don't get wrapped up with happy endings all around, yes there is a lot that does but like life somethings are not so great too.

"Celebrate the holidays with the very first mystery in the ever-popular series featuring sleuth Lucy Stone as she unravels unsolved murders in picturesque Maine.

“Meier continues to exploit the charm factor in her small-town setting, while keeping the murder plots as realistic as possible in such a cozy world.” —Booklist

As if baking holiday cookies, knitting a sweater for her husband’s gift, and making her daughter’s angel costume for the church pageant weren’t enough things for Lucy Stone’s busy Christmas schedule, she’s also working nights at the famous mail-order company Country Cousins. But when she discovers Sam Miller, its very wealthy founder, dead in his car from an apparent suicide, the sleuth in her knows something just doesn’t smell right.

Taking time out from her hectic holiday life to find out what really happened, her investigation leads to a backlog of secrets as long as Santa’s Christmas Eve route. Lucy is convinced that someone murdered Sam Miller. But who and why? With each harrowing twist she uncovers in this bizarre case, another shocking revelation is exposed. Now, as Christmas draws near and Lucy gets dangerously closer to the truth, she’s about to receive a present from Santa she didn’t ask for—a killer who won’t be satisfied until everyone on his shopping list is dead, including Lucy herself . . ."

There are 30 books so far in this collection.  I really haven't gotten through the whole series but am really enjoying it so far.  

When getting them from the library as in most series it is hard to get them in order and with Lucy, that is okay.  The family details smooth out and the mystery is all contained in the story so they can be read out of order too.  

The last books summary - "During a heatwave in Tinker’s Cove, Maine, part-time reporter Lucy Stone becomes unseasonably entangled in handmade quilts—and a twisted case of murder . . .  

When a community center opens in town, many embrace it as a space where locals of all ages can gather and create. Others view it as a waste of taxpayer dollars. The director, Darleen Busby-Platt, is no less controversial. Intense and showy, Darleen has huge plans for her new role. But Lucy believes the woman isn’t exactly as warm hearted—or qualified—as she seems. That hunch deepens when Darleen and a young employee vanish . . . and dismembered remains appear!

With lots of clues and few concrete answers, Lucy rushes to connect loose ends. First there’s the disappearance of Tim Stillings, a troubled twenty-something who endured harsh treatment on the job. Next there’s Darleen herself, who made fast enemies as the highest-paid resident in Tinker’s Cove. Finally, there’s Darleen’s rich ancestry and ties to heirlooms worth either a fortune or nothing at all.

The closer Lucy gets to the facts, the more she realizes that solving this murder depends on the lies. Because the truth rests somewhere between wild rumors, a trusted friend’s emotional new sewing project, and the authenticity of a mysterious three-hundred-year-old patchwork quilt. And Lucy must piece together the big picture—before she becomes part of crafty killer’s deadly design . . ."

I also see that book 31 is scheduled for release in the spring.  I might even be caught up by then... well... maybe - LOL

Pets - By Robert

 

Some of the stories that follow are about pets that we had along with pets of other relatives, even a small story about pet food.

Dad had a story he would tell about a dog they had on the farm. It was a Collie named Collie. They got it as a pup and began to train it to fetch the cows in the field. The first step in the training was to bring the dog to the horse and buggy. The dog would then be placed on the ground and would follow whoever was bringing in the cows. Dad always smiled as he told the story. Eventually the dog would jump off the wagon, on the command 'fetch'. After a while one of my uncles was telling someone how smart the dog was. Apparently he was on the porch with the other person and yelled out fetch. The dog responded quickly running from the porch, to jump onto the wagon ready to go.

I got my first dog at Christmas from Aunt Pauline when I was about 4 years old. I’m

not sure what kind of terrier he was. I named him Teddy. We lived on Churchill street at the time. Our neighbour had a chicken coop. It seems Teddy got a certain liking for chickens. So dad gave the dog to a sheep farmer that he knew. One day he came in with that smile on his face, saying. “It seems Teddy got a liking for sheep also.”

Much later on, one of my brothers brought a German Shepherd home. He was an avid jogger then and felt the Shepherd would be a nice companion to jog with. I was visiting Dad one day, he told me of the dog. Again with that smile when he mentioned the dog. He told me about the dog’s first run with my brother. It seems at one point along the route, the dog just ran out of steam and my brother had to carry him home. Apparently the dog had trouble moving for a day or two. It was quite a while later when I went to visit my father again, my brother was there also. I had not seen the dog so far and asked him to show me the dog. His reply to my question was. “I had to give him away, he got a fancy for chicken.” It seems on one of his runs, he passed by a picnic area. The dog suddenly left his side, jumped up onto a picnic table snatching some Kentucky fried chicken while the family was sitting eating. I think my brother changed his route after a few days, without the dog.

Dad, having been raised on the farm, did not believe in keeping a cat restricted to the house. One house we rented had rats. Dad got a full grown cat who was supposed to be a good rat catcher. The cat’s name was Sheila. He lifted a floor board big enough to put the cat between the top floor and the ceiling on the first floor. He placed a dish of milk by the hole. We never saw the cat again. For a few days the milk would empty each morning, then one morning the saucer still had milk in it. We never heard or saw a rat again. I can only assume the cat did his job and moved on.

One spring I was visiting my cousin Richard, whenever we got together we would go down to the Ottawa river to take a bit of row on a flat row boat his father built. Suddenly a goose sprang up from the bush and hovered overhead. I was about to step forward, when Richard stretched his arm out saying stop. He told me to look down, we had almost stepped on the next containing several goslings. I was about to reach down and pet one, but Richard convinced me that if I touched any of the goslings, the mother would reject the little bird. Slowly we moved away and turned to leave. One of the chicks began to follow us. So Richard finally gave in and picked up. We brought the bird home and he raised it with pigeons and rabbits he had in a large cage, large enough to walk in it. Sometime later in the year, around thanksgiving, Richard’s mother had invited us for a get together. We were all sitting at the table, when a nice roasted goose was placed on the table. I can still see the look on Richard’s face as he looked at the goose, took a peek out the back window of the kitchen. Yep his pet was now supper. Needless to say he was a little perturb.

                                


Mom told me about a dog her father had. The dog slept under the double bed in the

girls room. One time there was a family reunion and four of the sisters ended up sleeping in the same double bed. It would seem that they all slept deeply, because the bed collapsed sometime during the night. In the morning they of course searched for the dog not realizing he was still under the bed. When they found him, my grandfather confirmed the poor thing had died. My mother then related how one of her sister’s could be dumb at times. Apparently this aunt said. “He’s not dead, look his eyes are open.”

Another time I was with Richard, he saw how much I liked the pigeons he had. He got close to me whispering. “Would you like one?” “Sure," I replied. We both knew that I couldn’t take one of his. The bird would only return to its roost. So off we snuck into Cummings lumber yard, managed to get into one of the wood sheds through a loose board at the back of the building. We climbed up to the loft and higher to the roof, where we found a pigeon nest. The pigeon had flown off leaving two chicks that had broken through their individual eggs, leaving the other eggs alone we each took one in hand. Richard instructed me on how to take care of the chick along with giving me a cage for it. I would call Richard on the progress of the bird and what to expect. It grew to normal size. Flying apparently is normal for them. However when it was strong enough to fly, it would fly all over the house before either landing on my shoulder or back in the cage. Dad nailed a pole on the side of the second floor and we hung the cage on it. I could get access to it by going out the second floor onto the shed (summer kitchen) roof. Every time I would open the cage to feed and add water, it would fly out and soar up into the sky to land again on my shoulder. It would even swoop down onto my shoulder when I rode my bike. Talk about a traffic stopping sight that was at times. It got to the point that I would leave the cage open all the time. One morning I awoke and went to feed the bird, finding it dead in the cage. I could see it had been attacked by some creature. I was however consoled as I also saw a dead cat on the ground below the cage. That bird may have died but not without a fight.

Aunt Alice and Uncle Nathy had several dogs over the years. They were all small dogs. One day Aunt Alice had removed the rest of the meat in a can of dog food into a plastic container with a lid. The next day, Uncle Nathy made a comment on how good the sandwich meat from the plastic container had tasted. She looked into the fridge and realized he had used the dog food when making his sandwich. She never had the courage to tell him what he had eaten.

I was talking to my cousin Bea one day and she related the surprise she had felt when calling home and Uncle Nathy answered the phone. All my life Uncle Nathy was deaf. Apparently the phone was answered. Before she could say hello, his voice came on. “My wife is out and should be back in an hour.” He hung the phone. It wasn’t until she visited later, thinking her dad suddenly got his hearing back. It was the dog they owned at the time, who would jump up and down at the wall phone when it rang.

I have a few more animal stories and will perhaps tell you about them.

Family - by Robert

 

Top - Joel, Robert, Jack, Denis, Marcel

Alicia asked that I write about my family. She likes the stories we tell, whenever we all get together and laugh at events that took place, not only in our immediate family but also stories told by my parents, uncles, aunts and cousins. I had four brothers, Aunt Maggy lived with us for quite a few years, and Uncle Royal joined the family shortly after Richard (a border) left. Then there was Aunt Louise who would join us off and on depending on her situation. When uncle Royal got married, the upstairs of the house was converted to an apartment for him and his wife. Mind you by the time Uncle Royal got married, I had been away from home for sometime.

When Alicia’s parents first met the family, her Dad said to Alicia we were just like the Plouffe family. This was a television program about a family who lived in Montreal in the 50’s.

Both Alica’s parents were only children, so I guess we must have been quite different from them

I think I have a sense of humor passed down from my father. My father never laughed out loud, but when something was funny, he had this grin. My brother Denis has the very same look. Mom told us about going to the movies with Dad.

Aunt Louise

Apparently when there was a funny part in the movie, he would pinch her. Apparently when the movie was over, she had bruises on her arm. Dad, I would say, had a bit of a mean streak. I remember two Jehovah Witnesses, who came to our door. He invited them in. He had them sit down, then he went upstairs to Uncle Leon’s apartment and asked grandma to join them. Grandma came down with her bible in hand. After the introduction, dad turned the conversation over to grandma. The first mistake a Jehovah Witness made was quoting verses from the bible. Now grandma knew her bible almost by heart. Once a quote or partial quoted was made, grandma would finish the quote or point out other quotes that differed. Eventually, she asked to see their bible. She would look at the first few pages to find the imprimatur, which you will find on one of the front pages of a Roman Catholic bible. Not finding it, her comment was always, “No wonder, you don’t have the right bible.” It seemed to me at the time, quoting scripture back and forth for a long time. They were invited for supper, but they declined. For some reason we never saw them again.

One day a Fuller Brush man appeared at the door. Grandma was babysitting us at the time. She invited him in. He had this huge briefcase which he opened and began to talk about the brushes and other small articles for sale. At first he would point at one of the articles and tell her what the article in question was used for. By about the third article, he no longer bothered to point, but picked the article to show what you could use it for. A few times she would take the article from him and try it out herself. Perhaps due to frustration, he bypassed one brush going to the next. You couldn’t fool grandma, as she demanded to see what the brush he had bypassed did. He must have been showing the wares for at least an hour. Once had finished, perhaps she felt sorry for him, she did purchase one the smaller brush. Like the Jehovah Witness, I can’t recall ever seeing a Fuller Brush man again.

While I’m at it, Grandma Beaudin was a little eccentric. I remember suddenly hearing a loud clap of thunder, it was so loud, I was sure lightning had hit the house. Grandma shouted. “Come on Robert!” As she walked towards the door. “Come on!” She repeated as she opened the door. I thought we had to evacuate the house, as I ran to follow her. She stopped at the door, as I caught up to her. “Come and see God’s fireworks.” We stood there a few minutes as lightning flashed a couple times, but from the delayed sound the storm was passing on.

This next story is about when someone tried to snatch her purse. I didn’t witness it, but someone told me about it.   Apparently she was walking up the street, holding onto her handbag, when some dummy tried to steal her purse. She fell forwards and so did he. He tried to kick her, but she averted the kick somehow and bit on his achilles tendon. Neighbours were quick to come to her rescue and so was the patrol cop who was walking his beat. The policeman said to her. “You should have let him take your purse, it’s not worth getting hurt or even worse, for a few dollars in your purse.” She reached inside her dress and bra pulling out her change purse saying. “I don’t keep money in my purse, I keep it here.” Then added as looked down at pulling up the hem of her dress a little to bare her knees. “Who’s going to pay for the run in my nylons?”

Grandma always wore her hair braided and rolled up on her head. I only saw her hair down once. It was so long that it came down below her rear end. So white that it seemed to glow, as the sun was glowing through the window.

She played the harmonica, I don’t recall the tune, but it sounded great to me. One

time she slapped the harmonica against her hand to get rid of spit and passed it onto me. “Want to try it?” I blew on it, running it from side to side over my mouth. It sounded neat, but not much of a tune. I passed it back to her, after I had slapped a few times. Apparently she kept on playing it even when she was in the retirement home. Her choice of times when she would play caused a few complaints from other residents.

There was a song she sang often. I learned the refrain but it would be years before I learnt the full song. It’s a French song about an older woman with white hair asking the children around for a hug and kiss on the cheek, to help her forget her white hair. It goes on telling the children how fast life goes on. How she has experienced love, joy and sadness as those who have passed on. How children must respect their mother throughout her lifetime. To this day it always brings a lump in my throat when I hear it.  Souvenir d'un Viellard  (YouTube link if you wish to hear the song)

My brother Jacques for some reason was always afraid of her.

Marcel, Uncle Roy, Jack, Dad, Robert, Denis

Happy Anniversary to Us Both

 

Wow, 36 years, my love.  Can you believe the time has flown so fast?

Now we are writing blogs together, living in a small town in Southern Ontario.  Such a journey from that day we became family.  

And I never, ever doubted that these words were meant for me too. 

Happy Anniversary!

 And most important of all, we have always been and always will be a team.

de spectacle - by Robert

You may have noticed my fondness for beavers. That comes from my childhood. When my baby teeth started falling out, the baby teeth on either side of my two front teeth remained in place as the new teeth started to grow. The baby teeths did eventually fall, but the new teeth were a little back. This of course accentuated my two front teeth. I believe I was either in grade 2 or 3, at the time. Anyway a fellow student made the remark that I looked like a beaver, laughing. PC was not in my vocabulary at the time, but he never said it again. I met him several years later at some function, we both had a laugh about it. I did notice that his nose was still a little slanted to one side. Of course I did say “Sorry!”, which cemented our friendship

I was just wondering about the new state of Canada, would that somehow give you some problems with Putin? Here’s an interesting fact. The Canadien sound for Putin’s name is not like Poutine, you know the fries with gravy and cheese curds; it’s more like Putain. I’ll let you look that up in the French/English dictionary.

Now onto the Grand Spectacle. I must warn you it will be long, so maybe you should have a nap before the start. It will of course be televised on every network throughout the states. Don’t worry Mr. President elect, every entrance and crack in the building will be covered by Commissionaires. Hopefully no body cavity searches will be necessary, then again white rubber gloves will be issued to each Commissionaire. Hopefully they won't have to use them twice. Must always think of keeping the cost down.

In attendance along with your aides, will be all 60 governors. One empty seat on

your right is designated for our new governor, who will be part of the opening ceremony. As you look around you will notice various jerseys represent every NHL team north of the border. There will be refreshments available, such as Molson and Labatts beer (the light brand) along with local wines. As for non-drinkers, we’ll have spruce beer. You can also get poutine and beaver tails, to munch on.

The lights in the stadium dim, causing the spectators to hush. In the silence you almost hear the footsteps of the two greeters. Spot lights shine on them as one is native with his feathered headgear, the feather extending down almost to his ankles. Dressed in tan leather and colorful beads, fringes on arms and legs. Beside him walks our new governor. You guessed it, Jean Chretiens. He’s dressed in black suit, white shirt and red tie.

I can just see the grumpy look on your face, since you agreed to every demand we’ve asked of you. Just to be on the safe side, the contract that you’ve signed is on the podium before you. It's written in large bold letters. On the last page/pages in small print page, maybe even several pages, you need a magnifier to read, are the clauses that we might or might not honor.

The native chief begins by welcoming everyone and blessing, in his native tongue. Everyone will have ear buds, for the translators. Also the new symbols for the various native dialects will show up on the four large TV monitors, for those who don’t have earbuds.

Next it’s Jean Chrétiens turn. He speaks in English of course, I love his accent. His

speech is heart warming and brings tears to everyone present. That man can really hit you at the heart.

The stage lights dim once more as the sound of snare drums can be heard. From the end of the stadium the combined military band of brass and pipes marches in. They’ve chosen Scots on the rocks as they parade to the center of the stage. Now the lights glare down illuminating the band. It’s a glorious spectacle of various colors. First two drum majors lead the band. One dressed with a bear skin hat, red tunic, back pants, black boots so shiny the glare from the boots are almost blinding. The other same hat, tunic and boots, however he’s wearing the kilt representing the back watch regiment. Both swing the band's major batons to the beat of the music. They are followed by the pipe band. Their kilts swaying from side to side. You notice the various tartans representing every highland regiment in Canadian history. Followed of course by the brass band. You’ll notice the different dress uniforms of dark blue for the navy, tan for army and of course light blue for the gentlemen of the air force.

Next comes the color guard. The maple leaf flag, escorted by a lieutenant (leftenant), sergeant major (He’s the guy with the wide sash draped over one shoulder down to the opposite side at the waist. Also on either side are the two with rifles. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure they are not loaded. Next comes the flags of every province and territory. Finally the flags of every regiments that fought for this country since the beginning, when we were known as the Dominion of Canada.

Now comes the parade of soldiers. Of course the senior service the navy and merchant mariners, again dressed in various navy garb from the onset of the Dominion of Canada to date. God, I miss those bell bottom pants. Next the army with so many different hats, not just the berets. Well let's talk a bit about berets, you’ll see black, green, red and of course blue. You do remember peacekeeping I hope. Followed by the gentlemen of the air force. Churchill is to blame for that designation.

Of course you’ll have to rise for the salute as they march past. Better work on your

right arm strength in order to return the salute. On second thought , get Arnold to set up an exercise for both arms, it will be very helpful for your speech later on. As each pass by, the leader of each will drop his/her sword in salute as the men behind raised their right in salute. You’ll have to excuse the first man/woman closest to you sir, that is the designated right marker, keeping everyone marching in row and file. Now just a warning sir, the salute might seem strange to you. The arm is extended palm facing forwards, the upper arm moves up as the lower bends, arching so the hand can reach the head. (I would recommend you watch the movie Devil's Brigade).

However, instead of all the fingers and thumb extended straight up, only two fingers will be extended, they are the index and middle finger, like the love or peace symbol used today. It will actually mean V for victory.

Once the march pass is completed, time for the anthems. All the marchers and bands are now standing in the outer rim of the arena. The lights once more dim for a few moments. Suddenly a voice blares from all the speakers. Ladies and gentlemen, mesdames et messieurs, please rise, s’il vous vous levez, for the national and state anthems, pour les hymnes national et l’etat.. You really didn’t think we'd get rid of Oh Canada, did you?

As a spotlight flashes onto the center of the field, Paul Anka and Celine Dion are seen by the mike. Paul begins to sing the star and stripes. The US flag slowly rises as he sings into the mike, the combined bands play softly. Once he’s finished, Celine turns in opposite direction, not even bothering to use the mike as her voice can be heard quite clearly over the sound of the band. She belts out Oh Canada in both Canadian and Canadien languages, as the state flag rises. She’s no longer the poor girl from Quebec, but the rich girl from the state of Canada. Man what a voice.

Now it’s your turn to speak. A podium is placed before you, we’ll ensure nothing that would cause your hands to heat up is placed on the sides of the podium. Before you, is the agreement, you know the one you worked so hard to negotiate. May I recommend you read fast. We wouldn’t want the other governors to get ideas. Don’t even bother to read the fine print, one civil war is enough, don't you think?

Now it’s time for the festivities to take place. The assembly of band, flag bearers and military depart to the sound of the drums, ratatatatat. Hey don’t worry there will be young boys and girls to give you and all the governors presents. One soapstone carving of a beaver, one hudson bay blanket and a colorful maple leaf, picked in the fall and waxed.

The drums and native dancers perform, followed by every ethnic dance and song

routines. I’m sure you will enjoy our diversity.

Before I terminate this long epic of a letter, may I make one suggestion. Before you enter into discussions, perhaps you should invite Elong Musk for a viewing of all the Star Wars movies. Then again forget it. Neither of you would get it. If you need anything, give me a call. I’m sure the CIA have my number by now. No collect call mind you. I’ll make sure it’s recorded at my end also, we’re not getting any younger.

Congratulations.
Sincerely, Not “Sorry!”
Bobby.

Canadian Tire by Robert

 

I have some venting to do today. Some Fuddle Duddling BASTARD hacked my Facebook. I must apologize to his or her parents. ”Sorry!” Then again maybe the Fuddle Duddling BASTARD doesn’t have parents. I was not in a good Christian mood when I entered the church that day. Fortunately, I had some time to think and remember some of the gospel sayings: Turn the other cheek, forgive those who trespass against us. Whoever is without sin may throw the first stone. I should not have thought of the last one, because visions of me throwing rocks at whoever the BASTARD is, tied to a cross. “Sorry!” Anyway, by the time the mass started, I had cooled down enough. I did say an act of contrition before communion, just to be on the safe side. If you don’t understand what I’ve written above, Mr. President elect, I’m sure one of your aides could explain to you. I’ll be here all day trying to explain, besides it would piss me off some more

Let's get on with more important issues. Please keep “in God we trust” on the currency. You can’t trust the BASTARDS who hack your Facebook.

Just a suggestion for you Mr. President elect. Could you smile a little more. You always seem so cross, when you make a speech. Perhaps you could visualize a buxom woman standing in front of you, in a string bikini. That always makes me smile. Then again forget it, it might turn out to be a leer. While I’m at it, I can’t help but notice your arm movements. You know that little wave motion you do with both arms. Is someone putting some hot sauce or

A535 on the side of the podium, and you have to cool off your hands. Then again

perhaps you move then, when you want to get something very important, so that we listen a little more closely. About those waves, I always get this vision of a toy windup monkey playing cymbals.

As for the armed forces. Shortly after I joined the army, we went from Navy, Army and Air Force to just Armed forces. We all wore the same dark green uniform, made of the cheapest material. Fortunately they didn’t screw around with our battle dress. Mind you the initial battle dress we got from the states had just a little flaw. It seems that the material gave off static electricity and, it caused the engineers, who you know, disarmed bombs and placed others; well we both know what static electricity causes BOOM! It’s Okay, we found cheaper uniforms, probably from China. Just a side thing here, I met one of the women from that procurement department a few years after I got out. Nice lady, I told her, as PC as I could, what I thought of her department. For some unknown reason, she wouldn’t speak to me afterwards. If I offended you. “Sorry” Then again she left her husband for a hairdresser. Go figure. 

Back to our arm forces, I’ve given this a lot of thought. I would suggest they become part of the national guards. The reason is as follows. Years ago, members of the Royal 22nd Regiment (better known as the Van Doos) were in a pub drinking as all good soldiers do. Anyway a few yanks came in and made a comment about them being green berets. I guess they didn’t notice the beaver on the hat badge. The young Van Doos took exception to that. It seems a few ended up in the hospital, more Yanks than Frogs. Worst of all, we were all banned from that pub.

Even with my medic badge,I was a person not grata. The plus this new army guard, could be issued all white camouflage outfit; along with with grease paint for the face and bone sunglasses. Guess what kind of boots, come on you know it. I would make a recommendation, that a flap be sewn on the back, with strings attached to the flap bottom, so that when an air strike is ordered, the soldiers could pull the flap up, under which the pilot could spot the big beaver logo. You know, just to prevent a SNAFU. It’s ok mistakes happen, the pilot did apologize. I’m sure I heard him say “Sorry!” on the news. I’m good with that. I’ve been wondering, did the pilot get his coordinates from the CIA? “Sorry!” Mind you, once past the tree line, they would have to slow down. Come on they couldn’t be walking, you can still see someone walking in the snow, no matter what color they wear. As for planes and ships, you got it, all painted white.


Onto the subject of the border crossing buildings. I nearly forgot those. Turned them all to the Canadian Tire franchise. See, every vehicle crossing one way or the other, can do a pit stop. For instance their summer tires could be changed to studded winter ones, or perhaps have chains applied to the driving wheels. And of course driving south, summer tires will be applied. Notice how I try hard not to waste anything. Speaking of Canadian Tire, I’m glad they give you points instead of the paper money. Remember the guy who wouldn’t accept my 2 dollar bill, yet he accepted Canadian Tire money. Hey I got more change from my purchase. So that was a plus for me. Go figure. “Sorry!”

More to come. Nap time.
Love Bibert.