Do You Want Fries With That?

This was shocking to me. He-Who has been blogging and in one of his recent posts I found out I was not his muse! How is that possible? He-Who is definitely my muse. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have anything to write about.

He-Who has many talents and is knowledgable about many things. Perhaps the thing he knows the most about though, is junk food. His specialties would be pizza, hamburgers and French fries. It has been his life’s mission to find the perfect fresh cut fries.  In keeping with his quest he has become familiar with every French fry truck aka “Chip Wagon” near and far.

When we first met we lived in Niagara Falls. You can head in any direction in Niagara Falls and find a French fry truck. There is one in every corner of the city and a few in between. The most historic FF truck in Niagara is “Jakes Chip Wagon”. That truck was around long before He-Who even thought of  leaving his frigid Winnipeg home and moving to Ontario. Located Downtown on St. Clair Ave.  near Queen Street it actually has been around since 1945. My first first French fry as a child came from Jakes as it did for most people born and raised in the Niagara area. Just the smell of salt, vinegar and oil can evoke vivid childhood memories.

Jake’s Chip Wagon is a converted 1951 Chevy truck.

There are others.  Potato Heads on Lundy’s Lane, Michelle’s Fries (not related) at the corner of Morrison St. and Dorchester Road.

Located on Lundy’s Lane near Drummond Rd.

Located on Morrison St. near Dorchester Rd.

Some have no specific name just a permanent location.

Located on McLeod Rd. near Dorchester Rd.

Located at Stamford Centre

Located on Drummond Rd. in the Delta Bingo lot.

They come in all shapes and sizes. Some are seasonal and some are year round. The point is if He-Who was on an errand he was never far from a Chip Wagon.

Then we moved to Oakville.  There was not a FF truck to be found. He-Who would spend countless hours searching for these wee homes for fresh cut fries, but to no avail. He was distraught. I casually mentioned one evening after a long day at work that one of my co-workers thought there might be one near the Ford Plant. After dinner I put on my PJs and got comfy in front of the TV. Things started to get restless in He-Who’s corner.

He-Who: Let’s go for a drive.

Me: No, I’m exhausted and I’m in my PJs.

He-Who: Come on! I’m sick and tired of sitting around on our butts watching TV. All we ever do is watch TV.

Me: Except of course for the 1o – 12 hours I work every day and then I get to come home and cook and clean.

He-Who: (ok…a whole string of expletive deleteds but all directed at me wanting to watch TV). You don’t have to change. You’ll just be in the car.

Me: (sulking…get up and get into the car)

We drove around for quite awhile until I realized he was working his way over toward the Ford plant in a really round about way.

Me: You son of a (actually a really  nice woman)! You’re looking for that Chip Wagon! Just take me to the grocery store and we’ll get some potatoes and oil and I will make you your freaking fresh cuts!

He-Who: YOU CAN DO THAT?!

Me: Yes, I can do that.

He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. I knew I  had done something really, really bad but it was too late to turn back. Now he knew. The next day I came home from work and there on my countertop was a brand new deep frier, a sack of potatoes, a ginormous container of oil and a stack of papers. The papers were all the research he had done on how to make fresh cut fries that he had found on the internet. It got so that I would come home from work and smell the grease and I would know that he had made himself french fries for lunch. My theory was that he didn’t need them for supper then. Apparently I was wrong.  When my nephew moved in for awhile that deep frier was going constantly, until the day I came home and found the two of them hovering over the counter looking horror struck like they had just lost their best friend. In a way they had. The deep frier had actually melted in on itself. It took me a very long time to clean up the mess and degrease our home. There would be no more deep frying in my home!

When we started considering moving to the Durham Region it didn’t take long for He-Who to make up his mind. We had discovered a plethora of Chip Wagons in the area and he was in heaven. Whatever direction we headed there was a FF truck to be found.

Morti’s Good Eats in Whitby

Brian’s Lighthouse

The Corner of Ritson & Bloor

Tommy’s at the Beach

Yes, He-Who has earned quite the reputation for being the Official French Fry Expert.  Recently I received a text …

We’re on our way to Peterborough. Where is the best place for fries in Port Perry?

I didn’t even have to hesitate…

Going east on 7A at the top of the hill there are lights at Island Rd. Turn left and then into the driveway of Island Fries.

Crap! We just passed it.

Continue on 7A about 5 minutes to Nestleton. There is one on the right hand side beside the General Store.

A few minutes later …

Thanks. They’re great!

I shook my head at the thought that this is the kind of information I can provide at the drop of a hat. Perhaps we should make up some kind of map and sell it. You know…kind of like the Hollywood maps of “Homes of the Movie Stars”. Ours could be the map of “The Best Chip Wagons” of Southern Ontario. Of course it would be constantly changing because our He-Who is fickle when it comes to his favourites. One day you are his muse and the next you are not!

Golden French Fries–Extra Crispy

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I’ll Be Home For Christmas

For the first time in over 10 years I will be home for Christmas. Niagara Falls will always be “home”, no matter where I live. As it turns out, He-Who and I will be “wintering” in Niagara Falls and we are planning to be there until the end of March. Now, I know that most people would prefer to winter in a warmer climate. Niagara Falls would not be their  fantasy destination during the colder months but for me it is exactly what I need. It will be wonderful to be able to catch up and make plans with friends I haven’t seen in way too long. As a rule we drive two or more hours (depending on the traffic) run around to see a few family members and then before you know it we have to turn around and drive back. We try to get way too much into one trip and everybody gets short changed. I’m looking forward to simply being able to drop in on someone for a coffee and not always be thinking of the drive back.

That’s the good news folks.

Things haven’t exactly gone well the last few years for He-Who and I. After losing the job I loved at the TV station and having a really bad experience at a smaller company in the “Big City”, we decided to venture out on our own. The business we started was in the Durham Region which is what prompted our move here.  It has been very difficult for He-Who as he continued to work in the horse racing industry in and around Woodbine Racetrack and had to spend way too many hours on what has to be the world’s worst highway … the 401.  After two years we had to make the very difficult decision to stop losing our money on the business and call it a day. Of course this means we no longer have to live here so we gave our notice. While this was going on things started to go really wrong with the Racing Industry here in Ontario. Race tracks were being closed, racing days were being eliminated and in short, the government was annihilating the racing industry. Yesterday was He-Who’s last day for this season’s contract so we have some pretty scary decisions to make.

We’ve been very blessed with friends and family and it wasn’t long before someone accepted our invitation to let us house sit for them while they are in Florida for the winter.  Of course while packing and making the arrangements to get rid of as much of our stuff as we could and to store the rest, my car decided that it was time for it to retire. In all honesty it has taken me over 400,000 k and can probably use the rest but it could have had better timing. While one of my relatives is trying to coax my car to come out of retirement a long time friend said, “use my car”. Just like that.  So while we may be temporarily homeless, a little underfinanced and unemployed, we have an abundance of wealth with family and friends.

Santa and I for
Toni over at Words We Women Write

I plan to make the best of our winter in Niagara. After all it is one of Canada’s 10 Most Festive Christmas Cities. It will be wonderful  to see and spend time with the people I have been missing, some of whom you have met here in my stories. Best of all – I’ll be home for Christmas.

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It’s Time to Move Again

A little over a year ago we moved from a 3 bedroom, 1 floor condo, west of Toronto, to a 3 bedroom, 3 floor house east of Toronto. The move was a little over 100 km. With Toronto being in the middle it might as well have been 1000 km. When I lived west of Toronto it was nothing to “run home” to Niagara Falls for a couple of hours to visit family and friends. That drive across the top of Toronto can add anywhere from 1 – 3 hrs. (depending on the traffic) to my trip home now. Needless to say those visits are much less frequent.

So, why did we move? Well, our business was in the Durham Region and those treks from west to east on a daily basis were damaging us and our business. I really liked our condo. We had been in it for 8 years. It was, however, beginning to look less and less like a home. Everywhere I turned there was business stuff. Not just in the office. It was in the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, the bedroom and yes, even the bathroom (don’t ask).  We found this house and I liked it right away. But, the thing that sold me was when we opened the basement door and went downstairs. The basement had already been made into an office space! With cupboards and a sink and plenty of room for our business!  I was so happy as we brought everything in, because if it had “office” written on it, it went downstairs.  I now had a living space and a working space and I could come upstairs at the end of the day and close the door and that was that.

A recent visit to Dr. A had her a little concerned with my well being.  I have gained weight and have been struggling with getting rid of it.  I have a Gazelle exercise machine set up so I can take breaks from the computer and get some exercise, but doesn’t seem to be helping. The good Doctor suggested we run some blood tests and that I should walk for 20 minutes every day.  I looked at the sheet she handed to me to see what she was testing.  As I drove home I did some thinking. One of the things she checked off were my Vitamin D levels. Hmmm, if I am not mistaken (it happens on a rare occasion) Vitamin D is the “sunshine vitamin”.  It then occurred to me that I actually rarely see sunshine.  The first 6 months we lived here I would accompany He-Who* on the front porch or the back deck for some “fresh air” (as we call it in my family) otherwise known as a smoke break.  In January I got really sick and stopped doing this.  I stopped going outside.  By the time I got home I had figured out that although I had a great working space there was something missing.  Windows. All the windows were in the laundry room side of the basement. It was lovely and bright in the laundry room.  It was dark and dismal in the office part.  Could it be I was just not getting enough sunshine and fresh air?

The first day I tentatively walked around the block. It took me 15 minutes.  I was not that familiar with the territory so I kept my head down and went a little further each day and then would see how long it took me.  I went to 38 minutes, then 45, then 50 until I finally made it to just a little over an hour.  An hour is my goal each day hopefully picking up speed as I carry on.  I have also incorporated it into other things I have to do.  I needed an oil change so I drove my car to the shop, dropped it off and walked a half-hour in one direction and then a half-hour back to my car. He-Who does the grocery shopping, so the other day I went with him.  When he went into the store I started walking towards home. An hour later he picked me up on his way home from the store.

We live in the downtown area. It is a little rough around the edges and sometimes a little intimidating. The other day I accidentally lifted my head while walking the usual route and noticed these…

A brazen glance to the left and I saw these…

…then to the right there were these…

It was head up and eyes all over the place after that. How could I have been walking past all this and not noticed it?  I walk with 1 piece of ID and my cell so I started taking pictures with my phone…

There was a lot I was missing as I scurried along my route. We have lived here a year and I find myself coming home and saying things to He-Who, like, “Did you know there was a big city pool behind us? With a big park behind it? I saw families playing!”

I am not Anglican but I have to tell you this sign made me stop. I read it twice before I took the picture. I quite like what it has to say.

I walked past several fire hydrants that were hand-painted. I will have to do some investigating to find out the story behind them. This one was my favourite.

This is a General Motors town. I have passed this place every day. Several years ago I worked on a documentary about GM in St. Catharines. Some day when I am not all hot and sweaty, I will go in.

Last weekend I heard music, people laughing and a lot of activity (of course this was “pre-looking up” walking). It turns out there is a beautiful bandstand with seating and a lovely park.

The sides of the bandstand are made of these panels…

and there is this wonderful monument beside it.

I have blisters, bites and sunburn but I feel better than I have in months and as it turns out there is lots to see on my walks.  All I had to do was get up, go outside, get some sunshine, fresh air and move again. Thanks Dr. A.

*Recently a friend referred to He Who Shall Remain Nameless For His Own Protection as He-Who because as she stated, “I can call him that because we are on a first name basis”.  Well, I’m on a first name basis with him too (at least for the time being) so He-Who it is!

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Drowning In Paradise

I just found out that I am blogger of the week over at “The Byronic Man“. This is one of the most entertaining blogs I have come across. He is Funny with a capital “F”  or in his words “Drier. Hilariouser. More Sardonic -The Byronic Man is sometimes fiction, sometimes autobiography. And sometimes cultural criticism. Oh, and occasionally reviews. Okay, it’s all those different things, but always humorous. Except on the occasions that it’s not. Ah, geez. Look, it’s a lot of things, okay? You might like it, is the point”.  He always keeps his readers on their toes, asking questions, having captioning contests insisting that you participate… just to make sure you are paying attention. If you subscribe to no other blog, ever (well, of course subscribing to mine is a given) you must subscribe to the The Byronic Man and become a “Byromaniac” along with me. Be sure to let him know I told you to drop by.  I guess I better get at it before you take off to The Byronic Man and forget to come back because you are having such a good time with him.

Maui is one of my favourite places in the world.  I have had the good fortune to visit there twice.  A recent post from my good friend Lauren on Facebook reminded me of my least favourite event on my last visit there.  It is pretty hard to find something bad about Maui. As far as tropical paradises go it has to be at the top of the list.  It has sun and sand and beautiful crystal clear water as far as the eye can see. 

There are rainbows and double rainbows every day, although for some reason I never did get a great picture of one.

You can take the “Road Trip” of a lifetime and survive The Road To Hana.

Aside from the breathtaking views and the death defying twists and turns you can have a swim at one of my favourite spots, The Black Beach.

You can watch whales, sunsets and whales and sunsets.

You can go sailing on a catamaran as long as you have your sea legs.

And if you happen to be there on St. Patricks Day celebrating someone’s birthday you can attend the absolute best St. Patrick’s Day Party … ever!

Now, I have to tell you I enjoyed all those adventures and more.  The thing is I am a water girl. I love the water. I love the beach. I was born and raised in the Niagara Peninsula, surrounded by water. I had Lake Ontario, Lake Erie, The Niagara River, Niagara Falls, Sherkston Beaches and Crystal Beach as my playground growing up.  So if there is a beach I’m there! This particular trip we stayed right on one of the beaches. It was pretty mild, not as sandy as I would like for swimming but the views were spectacular. He Who Shall Remain Nameless for his own protection is not a water person. He grew up in Winnipeg, often called Winterpeg (especially by me) one of the coldest places in Canada. He had a ball walking around in the water up to his ankles on “our” beach.

He is quite content to sit on the beach and watch me frolic in the water. I say frolic because, although I love the water, I am not a strong swimmer. I can swim. I’m just not very good at it.  This has never hampered my spirits when jumping into “the deep end”.  I heard about this beach called “Big Beach” on Maui  that I had not seen on my previous visit.  Once I knew about it I had to go.  It was gorgeous! It was definitely “big”. This lovely sandy beach is almost 2/3 of a mile long and over 100 yards wide and  the official name is Makena Beach.  As we walked to the water we saw postings, warning signs if you will, with statements like this: “Cautions: Monitor ocean conditions closely. Strong currents and surf possible. Obey all postings and warnings.” There were a lot of people there and it was easy to see why it was considered “The” beach to go to.  I have no clue how I missed it on my first trip.  My little beach bunny  set himself up on perch where he could watch me and wave.  I was in my glory.

Is that not a beautiful thing to behold? I was having a great time. Not straying more than a yard from shore in what seemed extremely shallow water.  It was even shallow enough for my fellow!  I waved at him. He waved back. I laughed. I smiled. I got hit from behind!

I went face first, pushed right into the sandy floor. It definitely knocked the wind out of me. As I tried to right myself the undertow grabbed my feet and pulled them out from under me dragging me into the water. I couldn’t breath. I fought to surface, gasping for air. My fella smiled and waved. Another wave hit me pushing from behind, I had only made it to my knees and under I went again. My legs were like anchors holding me down in the undertow. I got my face up again and saw my fella, smiling and waving. I couldn’t understand how he couldn’t see I was in trouble! What was he thinking?! I heard a child’s voice right in front of me,  screaming at me, “Lady, stand up! Stand up!”.  What a great idea… but my legs are gone and I am being pushed down again.  I gave up trying to stand up. I dug my hands in the sandy bottom and hung on so I wouldn’t be dragged further out again. Then little by little I crawled the few feet with my hands dug in for dear life until my face surfaced and as I sputtered and gasped I could see my wonderful fella smiling and waving. I felt strong hands grab me on either side as they dragged me further out of the water to safety. Of course as soon as two young, handsome, strong bucks approach me then my fella knows something is wrong and perhaps he should see what is up.  As my rescuers were attending to me they looked up at this man grinning sheepishly wondering what he wanted. I followed their gaze and saw him standing there. I said, “That’s OK, he’s my husband”.  They looked at him like he was from outer space. The grinning waving man.Of course, as soon as I was able I tore a strip off him up one side and down the other.

Me: What’s wrong with you?

Him: I thought you were just having fun!

Me: Having fun?! I was drowning! What’s wrong with you?

Him: You looked like you were having a great time just splashing around playing in the water.

Me: What’s wrong with you? I was drowning?

I’m pretty sure I was screaming at some octave that would do damage to a dogs hearing.  This all came flashing back at me when I read my friend’s post Drowning Doesn’t Look Like Drowning. 

I have never been afraid of water in my life but I confess I was terrified that day. In fact I was terrified the next day. My biggest fear was that I would leave Maui with that terror of the water still hanging on to me.  Ah, but my Knight in Shining Armour  (not the guys on the beach – He Who Should Remain Nameless for his own protection) arranged for us to go to another beach before we left.  We went by boat to the island of Lanai where there was a beautiful, pristine, quiet, calm beach.  He also arranged for a water coach (for lack of a better word) who spent a great deal of time with me getting me back in the water and comfortable enough to have some fun. Of course my fella ventured in up to his knees and kept waving and hollering for me to come back in closer to shore. He watched me like a hawk. He was determined to not miss it if I was going to drown again.

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Photography 101

It has been a long time since I earned a living as a photographer. I went to College to study it. I bought equipment, equipment and more equipment. I loved it! My fondest memories of photography were spent in the dark room creating “my magic”. Along the way life happened and my path changed as I moved into television. My professional gear became TV cameras and studios. My old gear became just that…old and was either sold or given away.

My love of photography started the first time I saw the work of Yousuf Karsh. You may not recognize the name but I will guarantee you, you have seen his work. His stunning black and white portraits of John F. Kennedy, Einstein, Winston Churchill, Ernest Hemingway, Grace Kelly, Castro, Picasso, Audrey Hepburn …yes, this list continues seemingly endlessly, have been seen around the world.

The Work of Yousuf Karsh

My love of photography  was encouraged and nurtured along the way by a local Niagara Falls photographer, Wayne Farrar.  I knew Wayne, his wife Mary, his son Donald and his daughter Carol as a family from the time I was a little girl.  We were members of the same church family so I saw them frequently. When Wayne discovered my interest in photography he took me under his wing and continued to be one of my strongest influences and supporters until the day he passed away in September of 2001.  Wayne was well known in Niagara for his aerial photography and his photographs of the big ships coming through the canal liftlocks that are part of the St. Lawrence Seaway. In fact, one of  Waynes photographs was featured on a Canadian stamp. Every time I would stop by Wayne’s studio there was one photo I would always ask to see.  It was not one taken by him. It was a photo of him. It was a photo of him with Yousuf Karsh.  It always fascinated me that these two men who had so much influence in my life had met and were in this photo together.

These days it seems photos are everywhere. Pinterest, Instagram, Flickr, etc. and any number of Photo/Photographer blogs.  All this visual stimulation has made me long to photograph again. Believe me when I tell you, I never thought I would see the day that I did not own a camera any longer.  Recently, one of the Photographer/Bloggers  I follow has inspired me.  Otto von Münchow is one of the most talented and gifted photographers I am aware of. His work is brilliant! Recently in his blog, Münchow’s Creative Photo Blog, has talked about “Skills versus Creativity”, “It’s What’s Inside That Matters”, “craft vs the heart”, and he talks about how “mistakes” can sometimes be “a blessing in disguise”.  Otto doesn’t believe the photo is a result of the kind of camera you are using, or the professional training you have or if the lighting is accurate. All of these things can contribute to a good or even great photograph, but ultimately it is what the user sees and feels and how they can make that translate.

The other day I was admiring some colours in a restaurant. Just something about them made me feel happy and excited. My phone (not an iPhone) was sitting there beside me so I decided, just for fun, to start seeing what I could do with the camera app. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not saying my phone can actually replace a camera. But, I had fun and it felt good to take some photos again.

So just for fun…

I really liked the colours and the textures I was able to catch. It surprised me.

Like I said, I like colour. I respond to colour emotionally. Above are a couple of pieces of artwork in my home. The colours came out really well, but I have some issues with reflections and glare. They all seem soft but they aren’t. The top one is a batik and it is very waxy. The middle one is a pastel that my niece Ashlee did when she was a little girl. The bottom one has always fascinated me so I think that it is kind of kool that I can see myself staring at it…as I often do.

The following pictures were taken with a different “phone” (still not an iPhone).

These pieces are the work of another artist in the family, Stephen. He does brilliant work but I’m not sure these captured it.

These are photo ops that would have been missed had I not had a … phone. It was a very cold and dreary day in Niagara Falls and I do believe that was captured along with some pretty acceptable detail. The plant is a Trillium. The Trillium is the official flower of Ontario, Canada and it is an endangered and protected plant. You are not allowed to pick Trilliums if you see one, and I myself have not seen one since I was a little girl hiking as a Brownie.  I found this Trillium recently in North Oshawa.

I am having trouble capturing little ones with the “phone”. They move pretty quick and so far most of these photos have been blurry. The top one was kind enough to patiently pose for me. In the bottom one there were two more children, twins, that I never did mange to capture, but fortunately their older sister stopped to check me out. I don’t care how I got these…I love these two pictures.

Thank you Yousuf, thank you Wayne, and thank you Otto. I had some fun and I got to take some pictures.

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Road Trip!

He-Who arrived home at 2:00 am Sunday morning, which I like to call “very late Saturday night”. He flew down to Florida last week for some R & R and to join a buddy on the drive back to Ontario. Unfortunately for them they had some car problems and ended up abandoning their vehicle  in Chattanooga Tennessee, renting a car and then completing their journey. There had been several phone calls marking their progress (in vivid detail) while still trying to continue the drive in the vehicle eventually left behind. As I listened, I was reminded of an adventureous road trip my sister Pat and I had years ago.

This is not a tale of some wild “bucket list” adventure, but of a simple road trip gone wrong, long before we were all tethered together via cell phone, computers and GPS.  Pat was moving from Barrie, Ontario to Calgary, Alberta. Her husband and a lot of their belongings were already there and she was driving their car and the remainder of their belongings to finish the move.  We started in Niagara Falls (where I lived at the time) on a beautiful, late August morning and after a couple of time-consuming side trips (Toronto) we arrived in Barrie at the storage unit holding her worldly goods. Our first challenge was staring us in the face. How do we get enough stuff that would fill a half-ton truck to fit into an already overloaded 1985 Mercury Lynx- something like this one.

For awhile it looked like I would be getting bungie corded to the roof along with various pieces of furniture. Instead, I promised not to complain as I was folded into the tiny space left in the front seat. I quickly lost  all feeling my lower extremities.  As we passed through Sudbury (home of the big Nickel) I had my eye on the gas gauge praying for a pit stop. Unfortunately for my legs and bladder, Pat went on to Whitefish (don’t ask I have no idea). When we got back on the road it started to rain. A lot. The tapedeck (yes, I said tapedeck) got a serious case of the munchies and started eating our tapes which meant we might be forced to sing to amuse ourselves.  My attempts at resurrecting the tape deck proved to be temporary fixes at best and dash damaging at worst. As we passed through Sault Ste Marie around 9:00 pm, the car stalled out in 4th gear. We started it up again and pressed on through vast areas of nothing to the next sign of civilization. Around 10:30 we were witness to a spectacular display of Northern Lights.  After many hills and many more “Moose Crossings” we arrived in Wawa (home of the giant goose). It was 1:00 am.

Just like Texas…Canadians like “big” stuff.

We got on the road again, still in the pouring rain, only to have the car misbehave in White River (birth place of “Winnie” of The Pooh). Fortunately, they had a “24 hour mechanic on duty”. Unfortunately, he had gone to lunch and would be back in an hour. I ask you, does that not make him a 23 hour mechanic?  Upon his return he diagnosed our car to be terminal and said there was nothing he could do.  We decided to take our chances for now (famous last words). Somehow we survived “Hell on Highway 17″. All we had to do was follow the trail of mufflers on the road. We were told we would hit “a little construction”. I consider actual mine-sized holes quite a bit of construction! We reached Thunder Bay and the car simply could go no further. We literally rolled down a hill into a hotel parking lot. Needless to say, beverages were needed this night!

After waking up and finding I had been eaten alive by bedbugs, a plan was formulated.   The first thing we did was move to a new hotel for the 18 – 20 hour wait while my brother-in-law drove in from Calgary. A trip to the mall helped kill some time but not quite as much time as it took for me to get out of the cab upon our return.  The door in the back  was broken and somehow triggered the locking system. I was trapped in the back seat for quite a while. After calming down, we went for dinner, where I found a hair in my soup and I was served a hoagie without the steak. I gave up and went back to my room to put ointment on my bites.

Pat’s husband finally arrived to rescue us, a half-hour after the rental place for towing things closed, so we spent another night in Thunder Bay. Now remember that part about no GPS or google maps? We got lost trying to find the U-Haul place!  Wonder of wonders we finally made it out of Ontario and into “Friendly” Manitoba, my brother-in-law towing the car with his pickup. Only two more provinces to go. Sixty miles east of Winnipeg, smoke started billowing from the truck. The transmission was pooched. One of our delightful RCMPs came to our rescue and arranged for a tow truck. He was laughing the whole time as he watched the tow truck towing the pickup truck towing the car to the nearest service station. Hadishville, Manitoba (at the time) consisted of the Parkview Inn (four rooms)/Restaurant/Bar and a service station and we were stuck there until the parts could come from Winnipeg to fix the truck – Monday morning. We  had the run of the place for the weekend. The restaurant was closed on Sunday so the owners lent us their vehicle for the day to drive into Winnipeg (home of the author of Winnie The Pooh). By Monday morning we were clearing tables, doing dishes and peeling potatoes to keep ourselves amused. We were back on the road by 5:30 pm with me driving. An hour later there was a big clumping noise. We pulled onto the shoulder but found no problem. After another hour on the road people were waving at us as they passed, mouthing something. I finally made out the word “smoke” and stopped again. It appeared to be the muffler. Back on the road. As the sky darkened and the sun sank, we realized the headlights weren’t working. Off we went again to a service station to replace a fuse. The lights went off again before we left the parking lot. It appeared to be a short. When we reached Brandon (hometown of Amanda Stott, Pat’s hubby did a “MacGyver” with a paper clip. Voila, we had lights … until they started to flicker. Then the fuse board flashed! We were staying put for the night. Did I mention the freak snow storm that had enveloped us? As it turned out, they closed the highway because visibility was so bad, with or without headlights.

The next morning we rose with the sun. The rest of the trip had to be made in daylight. We made it through Saskatchewan without incident and limped into Calgary, white-knuckled and holding our breath. The “Road Trip from Hell” had ended. I was quite content walking around Calgary for days until boarding a plane for my return journey.

The Road Trip From Hell – 3,555 km

I love my sister and missed her a lot. I was really happy when years later she came back to Ontario.  And even happier she didn’t ask me to join her on the road trip back.

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Remembering Alone

Every Remembrance Day, for as long as I can remember, I spent with my Dad. Whether it was at a Cenotaph, in an arena or auditorium, or beside a sickbed; I was with my Hero… my Dad at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. This year, I will stop at the appointed time and take pause with 2 minutes of silence & reflection to remember, but this year will be different. I will be on my own. I will be remembering my Dad.

Dad enlisted before he had turned 18 and fought in the 2nd World War and in Korea. He served in Canada, Britain, the Central Mediterranean Area, Northwest Europe and the Far East. I now cherish the medals and decorations he was the recipient of. His documents say they are the 1939-45 Star, Italy Star, France and Germany Star, Canadian Volunteer Service Medal with Clasp and War Medal 1939-45, Korea Medal and United Nations Service Medal. He wore them proudly.He was a proud Veteran and taught me well what the day represented. He was a proud Father & Grandfather especially when accompanied by his sons & grandsons who also served our country.

THREE GENERATIONS

In his civilian life he continued to serve his Country & Community and received the Commemorative Medal marking the 125th anniversary of Confederation. He was also very active in his Legion for many years. In fact, many of our family celebrations took place at the Legion. Today I would like to share an article that my Dad wrote about the Legion in Niagara Falls, ON. It appeared in the Niagara Falls Review in a section called First Words.

LEGION HAS LONG HISTORY HERE By BILL GILLIES

The first veterans organization to form in Niagara Falls was known as The Great War Veterans Association. This group came together in 1917. Then in 1925 the many and diverse veterans organizations decided they would be more effective as a single group and The Royal Canadian Legion became a reality, as the Branch 51 indicates Niagara Falls Received the 50 first charter in Ontario.
The Royal Canadian Legion from its beginning was first and foremost about remembrance. The Legion conducts annual services of remembrance in our nations capital and in communities throughout Canada on the 11th hour of the 11th day in the 11th month. These services are in memory and to honour our comrades who made the supreme sacrifice for their country. Every year youth Remembrance Day essay, poster and poem contest are held with the winners, at the national level, being taken to Ottawa for the Nov. 11 service. The Silver Cross Mother representing mothers across Canada who lost sons and daughters during conflict in which our country was involved is sponsored by the Legion.
The first Legion building was on Roberts Street but the longtime home of Branch 51 remembered by many in Niagara was the white frame house on Victoria Ave. at Stamford Street, that was home from 1918 to 1971. In the beginning at our first home, support was provided mainly for veterans as many servicemen and women returning from the First World War suffering from war related illness and wounds were left on their own. It will be a surprise to many that 18 to 20 veterans at one time were housed and fed at Branch 51; there was no other help for our returning heroes.
Through the ensuing years a Second World War and the Korean War there was no shortage of service work on behalf of veterans but it was only a matter of time until we reached out to serve the community at large. In the past 10 years Branch 51 has donated $17,000 a year to the community plus donations from poppy funds and our ladies auxiliary.
A story about the Legion without prominent mention of our Ladies Auxiliary would be remiss; it is the ladies who prepare and serve the delicious dinners at all our social events.
In addition, the ladies have bake sales, fashion shows and craft shows to raise money that is returned to the Legion in millions of dollars annually. Then in their spare time the ladies hold euchre games and help at bingo, it is hard to find an activity at the Legion that they are not involved in. The ladies also offer student bursaries and scholarships from secondary school to university level as well as school of nursing and schools for the handicapped.
The Royal Canadian Legion community assistance goes to many diverse groups but perhaps our favourite has been the youth of our community. We are the major supporter of Boy Scouts, Girl Guides, Sea, Army and Air Cadets, as well support is given to YWCA Children’s Camp and Summer Playground, N.F. Summer Playground, Boys and Girls Club, Pee Wee Baseball and Hockey. The second most favoured recipient is our local hospital beginning in the 50s with an ice machine and continuing through the years with cash donations of $25,000 over a five-year period. Branch 51 has donated for such equipment as pre-natal monitors, endoscopy, cat scan, birthday beds and recently we furnished a palliative care room at GNGH.
Branch 51 is proud of our contribution to our country and our community we are not financed by any level of government and in fact have turned down the offer of financial assistance from government. We urge anyone that would like the pleasure of helping their community to consider Legion membership, the Legion have the facilities and structures that enable a member to make a difference in your community and your country.

I am sorry to say that I was unable to date this piece, but can tell you at the time of its writing the Legion was located on Valleyway. This was the only location I remember. I am also sorry to say that the building on Valleyway was sold. My Dad became a member in Port Dalhousie for his remaining years. However, there are still lots of healthy, thriving Legion Branches in the cities we all live in now. Like my Dad, I would encourage you to consider Legion membership and the opportunity to make a difference in your community.

Thank you Dad… for everything. I will remember.

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Joy Is Contagious!

These days we are consumed with catching H1N1 and various other contagions. I would like to share with you some joy I caught recently.

I was born and raised in Niagara Falls, Ontario. I’m a “border kid”. This means I have spent my entire life crossing the border to the US, back and forth, paying tolls on the US highways. Border kids have spent their entire lives with their mothers dragging them to the US half naked and returning home with so many clothes on we resembled the little boy in A Christmas Story who couldn’t put his arms down, or get up when he fell because his mom had him dressed like the Michelin Man. Yes, we were born and raised smugglers!

I still travel to the US on a regular basis. No, of course I would never smuggle! My sister lives there, my niece lives there and believe it or not I get my hair done there. I have been crossing the Grand Island bridge for as long as I can remember. Paying the toll and getting to the other side. Seldom have I ever heard a peep from anyone taking my $1.00 US. I make it a point to always say “hello” wait for a response and then say “thank you” when they raise the barrier. (I know, it is just bred into my Canadian genes to be polite.) I don’t believe I can remember a time when anyone even met my eyes. There was one time when I hesitated, ever so slightly, and the guy screamed at me “GO!” My passenger was shocked, and asked, “Did that guy just yell at you?” Yes, yes he did. I have always thought this must be one of the worst jobs in the world. These people must really hate their jobs. When I was little I thought these tiny buildings were where they housed all the unhappy people in the United States of America. I was always concerned that if I complained too much about my layers of clothes I would be put in one of these little houses for punishment.

A few weeks back my lovely niece, Hinda, and I went for a run to the US. I wasn’t really paying attention as I pulled up to the booth entering Grand Island so I was really caught off guard when this great big, shiny grin greeted me with a “Hiiiiyaaaa Baaaaabeeeeee!”. I had no control, I grinned back like an idiot in shock. My niece looked a little like a deer caught in headlights and she had a big grin on her face as well. I greeted this friendly woman, and thanked her. “You both have a wonderful day now,” she said as she raised the gate. I hesitantly moved on. I said hesitantly, because I did not want to leave this wonderful woman that could spread such joy. Hinda, who is not a border kid but her mother is, exclaimed “Wow”, and asked if that had ever happened before. Honestly, never! Absolutely never! We had caught it, though. The joy had entered my little Honda Civic and it stayed all day. We laughed, smiled and talked about that lady all day. We told my other niece and my sister. We told pretty much anyone who would listen. For a few days I thought of that woman who obviously loved her job, loved her life, loved people and was just full of joy.

Weeks went by, I crossed the bridge several times…same old, same old. I forgot about my person of “joy”.
This past Monday, my husband and I ventured that way, as we approached the toll I realized I had never told him about the “Joy” lady and started to as he pulled up to the booth, and this face came in the window with a big grin and said, “Hiiiiyaaaa Baaaaabeeeeee!”. He grinned. I grinned. I leaned forward and waved, she leaned forward and waved, and gave me another “Hiiiiyaaaa Baaaaabeeeeee!” My husband pulled away. He said, “Do you know her?”, I said, “no, but doesn’t she make you feel like you are old friends she hasn’t seen in awhile?” We grinned and giggled the rest of the night about it. I phoned Hinda, and told her we had just encountered the “Joy” lady, and she started laughing and talking about her, too.

Other than calling her the “Joy” lady, I have no idea who this woman is. In my opinion she is the best asset the Grand Island Bridge Authority has and she should probably be training all their employees. I will look for her every time I cross that bridge, and next time I will stop long enough to thank her for spreading the “joy”.

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TIMING IS EVERYTHING!

A month ago I decided it was about time to start blogging. I had procrastinated for some time because I knew (and had been warned over and over and over again) that it was very important to be faithful in updating a blog. If you truly wanted to have a successful blog you had to have fresh material posted at least weekly. The first week of March I finally bit the bullet and wrote my first blog, posted it and then sent out links informing everyone that I had “crossed the line and there was no turning back”. That was March 6th…one month ago. Well, as they say “timing is everything”!

March 11th I ended up in the emergency ward with the man of the house. As we all know there is no such thing as a quick trip to the emergency ward. We arrived at 5:00 pm and when I left at 12:30 am he was finally being given treatment. In the wee hours of the morning he was admitted to hospital. Three weeks, two surgeries, anesthetic, morphine, blood transfusions and eight catheters later he finally came home. That was two days ago. For those of you holding your breath he will be fine after some lengthy recoup time. But, as I said timing is everything…

Around Christmas time a close friend of mine who suffers from MS and is in a wheelchair sent out an email for help. He needed someone to watch over his blind 92-year-old mother in Niagara Falls while he went away for a much needed rest during spring break. I wasn’t working and was feeling the Christmas Spirit, and also thought it would give me a chance to catch up with people back home, so I volunteered. My friend’s timing for asking was perfect. Couldn’t have been better. The hospitalization of the man of the house, on the other hand, was really bad timing (although not his fault). Couldn’t have been worse. For 10 straight days I spent the day in Oakville hospital and drove to Niagara Falls each night to stay with my friend’s Mother. My first night I was able to sleep back in my own bed, I put my feet up and turned on the TV to veg. The phone rang at 10:30pm. My Father had been taken into emergency in St. Catharines. Talk about timing! The third week of March, First Toastmasters of Oakville, the club which I attend, had their theme set…”Timing is Everything”…Come on, you have to see the irony here. Really, it’s hysterical…perfect timing! It was also the week of my birthday (and St. Patrick’s Day). Lousy timing. Then of course, let’s not forget the “concert of a lifetime” that had cost us a fortune in December – our tickets for Fleetwood Mac were for March 26th. Hmmmmmm, timing.

Perhaps I picked a bad time to start a blog. Bottom line, you can plan, you can time. You can plan the time. But sometimes, no amount of planning can control the timing. My plan is to continue blogging, when I can… and when the time is right.

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