Category: General

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Remembrance Day

On this Remembrance Day, like others, I am constantly amazed at how lucky we were that all of our immediate relatives who served in recent memory came home.

Dad's medals

Dad’s medals, Korean Service medal second from right.

My mother’s three older brothers served in bomber crews through much of World War II. Dad served on a destroyer in Korea.

For some frame of reference, the average life span of a bomber crew member during most of the war was three missions. While the navy was certainly safer in Korea, we did take losses on the HMCS Iroquois in 1952 and this is always a possibility in war.

All but Uncle Bob are gone now, but on this day, we remember all of those didn’t return, or returned broken. They went willingly. And all of them, whether for the Boer War, Spain, World Wars I and II, Korea, a myriad of peacekeeping missions, Bosnia, Kosovo, Kuwait, Afghanistan or Libya, went knowing that they may not return. That, in itself, is worth remembering, and probably for more than one day a year…

 

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Ever have one of “those” days?

Every so often, the Fates look at a randomly-generated list of names, run their finger down the list and say, “Hmm. Let’s just get… ah, that guy.” Today, it was my day.

My work day started with me forgetting to bring my office keys. This creates a few issues throughout the day and means I need to constantly borrow a key from someone else. In short, it’s a real inconvenience.

Then, after a while, I headed out to my physiotherapy appointment. I arrived on time, or so I thought. The time I put in my appointment calendar was 9:40 but, apparently, my appointment was for 9:20 and I missed it. By the way, my physiotherapist has no open times this week and is off next week.

I get back to the office to set up for this afternoon’s class. I have a class on routing and remote access servers. Guess what? My server has crashed some time this morning. The means I end up spending an afternoon trying to explain a practical-oriented class on an abstract concept with no way to actually demonstrate how you configure things.

On top of that, the online class software we use doesn’t like working with dual monitors. Trying to put notes on the whiteboard was interesting since, every character I typed, the window jumped from monitor to monitor. Try to concentrate while watching your workspace jump from one monitor to the other every time you type a letter.

With all the kerfuffle, I didn’t get a chance to have lunch. That’s OK, since I have an ice pack in it so it will last long enough to take home at the end of the day, put it in the fridge, and bring it tomorrow. As I sit at home writing this, guess what is still sitting back in my office.

So, in short, everything I touched today either broke or failed to work properly. You can understand why I’m afraid to pee…

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An odd start to a morning

This morning started in quite an odd, but interesting, manner. The oddity began when I went out the front door to drive to work. On the fence between the front and the back yards, there were several magpies. They were looking over the fence and squawking like they were upset over something. So, I figured I’d walk over and look.

This was the odd part. Magpies are members of the jay family, which includes crows and ravens. And, if you’ve ever had any experience with magpies, you’ll know they are incredibly wary of people. Try to walk up to a magpie and see how quickly they disappear. This time, though, they didn’t. I was about two feet from the nearest one sitting on the fence.

Near the base of the fence, lying on the ground, was a dead magpie. The other magpies seemed far more interested in the dead one than me. They perched on the fence and squawked. Bagging up the dead magpie and putting it in the garbage container at that point didn’t seem appropriate, so for some reason I muttered, “Excuse me,”  walked back to the truck and drove to work.

When I came home, I dealt with the dead magpie. There was not a mark on the magpie so it wasn’t a predator of some sort that killed it. I don’t know what happened to it. It didn’t seem old.

The odd part is that, this morning, I felt like I had attended a funeral. Since they didn’t fly off like they normally would, I felt like I was invited. I don’t know if this is common behaviour with magpies, but if funeral ceremonies are good enough for people, they should be good enough for them, too…

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An era ends

Today, Neil Armstrong, first man to walk on the Moon, passed away at the age of 82. And, it is difficult to describe how the world seems a bit different.

I remember watching the first steps on the Moon, in grainy black and white, from our living room in Point Edward, NS. It seemed momentous and unbelievable at the same time. I watched the space program from its beginning and the rate of achievements was incredible. From Yuri Gagarin’s first flight (which was not presented as a momentous occasion) and Alan Sheppard’s first suborbital flight (which was presented as momentous) in 1961 to actually landing on the Moon in 1969 seemed like progress had no bounds. That the program would be cut a few years later seemed impossible at the time.

Today, we often see the process of putting man in space in light of the Shuttle program: often compared to riding a bus. The fact that two were lost didn’t seem to change that for any length of time. Computers take off, fly and land commercial airliners and control so many aspects of our lives.

But in thoseQuote days, given the level of technology at the time and the fact that much of what was being done on each mission was done for the first time, little was available for testing many of the processes involved in each mission. Flying to the Moon at the time was often done on the old pilot’s adage of flying “on a wing and a prayer,” like the days of wooden ships and iron men sailing towards a strange horizon. And, given the level of experience of each of those mission crews, the level of risk in untested, untried vehicles in a harsh environment was known. Despite this, they went anyway and history was made.

Neil Armstrong is gone and the world is something less for it. One less hero is left. And, there aren’t really many potential heroes to replace him available…

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A semiproductive day

I started the day with three jobs to do. However, fate hath kicked me in the teeth again and each of the three are only partly done.

I wanted to finish the water system in the camper. After much cursing, swearing and expressing myself in a less than “fit for all audiences” manner, I did install the last fitting and nothing leaks. Yee hah! However, the pump for running from the water tank rather than a city water system doesn’t work. I suspect I have a minor wiring issue and will look at it tomorrow. All in all, this job is 98% done, so I was reasonably successful.

Job number 2 was wiring the trailer lights on the Escape. I had a hitch installed and ordered a factory wiring harness for it. The harness came in today and I went to plug it in and make sure it worked. It didn’t. I spent about 30 minutes tracking wiring until I discovered that the truck doesn’t come with the two fuses required for the trailer lights. I need a 15 and 20 amp mini fuse. I only managed to find the 15 amp one and have to go downtown tomorrow to get the other. This job is about 90% done, so I shouldn’t complain.

Lastly, it’s time to paint the old pickup and sell it. I don’t totally want to sell it, but having two pickups is sort of redundant. It’s a 1987 Ford F250 with a 460 cu. in. motor. It needs a bit of touch up on both sides. I picked up the paint and went to mask it but ran out of masking tape. I did, however, get one side painted and it looks nice. Oh, well. This one is 50% done I guess. However, tomorrow, the forecast is rain so I’ll either have to run a tarp over the truck or wait until a few days from now to finish this job.

So, three jobs to do and none finished. Maybe, tomorrow will be a bit more productive…

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How far does coincidence go?

The subject is a question I’ve asked myself on several occasions. How far does coincidence go?

One of the many tragic stories arising from last night’s shooting in Aurora, CO, is that of Jessica Redfield, a sports blogger living in Colorado. She had blogged last month of her premonition that made her leave the Eaton Centre in Toronto several minutes before the shootings there.

I wish I could shake this odd feeling from my chest. The feeling that’s reminding me how blessed I am. The same feeling that made me leave the Eaton Center. The feeling that may have potentially saved my life.

She didn’t know what made her get up and leave but would have been in the line of fire when the shootings happened. Jessica Redfield is one of the confirmed dead from last night’s tragedy.

My tie to this is that I was in Toronto on the day of the Eaton Centre shootings, stuck on a 20 hour layover. I was hoping to see a few people while there, but didn’t get a chance due to timing. When that wouldn’t work out, I decided that I was going downtown for a few hours. Where? Of, the Eaton Centre for a feed of sushi in the food court. However, for some reason, I didn’t get down there. I don’t know why. I could have found the storage place for my luggage and quite easily got a bus into the city. I just didn’t. And, as timing worked out, I would probably have been in the same food court at the same time.

How far do I push this coincidence? It did occur to me when I went downtown this morning. Of course, my destination would have been probably appropriate. Meeting my end in a hardware store, in my case, would probably be quite “fitting.” Hopefully, I would have a roll of duct tape in my hands at the time.

I don’t think I’m going to worry about this more than anything else going on in the world at the time. I do have this belief that when my time comes, it will. I’m also reasonably stubborn enough that I don’t think worries of a wingnut shooting would really guide my life in any way, shape, or form.

I will, in one sense, let it affect me in one way. I’ll explain that by simply giving you the second last paragraph from Jessica Redfield’s last blog post…

I say all the time that every moment we have to live our life is a blessing. So often I have found myself taking it for granted. Every hug from a family member. Every laugh we share with friends. Even the times of solitude are all blessings. Every second of every day is a gift. After Saturday evening, I know I truly understand how blessed I am for each second I am given.

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The first great adventure

For some reason, after a week of being confined to the house and the hospital, I was getting a little shack-wacky. So, since I felt reasonable, I figured I take a run down and get a coffee. But, this took a bit of logistical planning.

We loaned one of the vehicles out so I only had the pickup. However, it was hooked up to the boat. I can disconnect the wires and chains, but can’t lift the hitch off the trailer. I’ve been given a 20 lb weight limit for the next six weeks and there are moments when I think I probably couldn’t lift that much.  Clara saved the day by lifting the trailer off the boat and putting the tongue on blocks. Thanks, Honey.

So, I headed downtown, saw a few people, grabbed a coffee, bought some drugs, and, after an hour and 15 minutes, was ready to head home. I was out of steam but made sure I hadn’t overdone it. Not bad for a week after surgery. I will admit that a nap followed shortly afterwards.

So, thus endeth my first post surgery adventure. Cue the Indiana Jones theme at any time…

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Last Day at the house

I get to look forward to a bit of housecleaning today. It is a change, since I’ve spent about three weeks looking backwards. In all probability, this is the last night I will ever spend in my parents’ house and it does leave me with mixed feelings.

I lived in this house, off and on, from about 1972 until 1983. I have good memories and not so good ones. After all, there are few things like the angst of youth that are best not remembered. But, when I did move out, I always knew that the house was still here and, if all else failed, there was some place in the world I could return to.

However, with Dad’s passing and Mom being in a home, the house will probably be sold in the near future and, distance will prevent me from helping in the final cleaning and sale. In short, tomorrow morning, when I fly back to Whitehorse, I will probably be leaving the house for the last time and never returning to it.

There are, of course, the proverbial “tons of things” to do first. I have some cleaning to do, getting the garbage, compost, and recycling ready to go out, pack, and visit Mom before I leave. And, like every trip, I do have to resign myself again to the truth that there simply is never enough time to visit everyone nor to do everything I’d hoped on this trip.

I do recognise one important thing, though. Thomas Wolfe may have said, “You can’t go home again,” but, he was wrong. Home is not, while we do like to often think this way, a place from our past. Instead, home is a place of the present and is where we choose to make it. And, while I will miss this house and its happy memories, tomorrow morning, I look forward to flying home…

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The things we learn

I have been on the high and low hunt for my mother’s birth certificate for about a day and a half. Eventually, I found it. However, I found a few other things in my search.

I found a few pictures, including one of me when I was much younger, wearing nothing but a strategically placed guitar. I also found the two letters of reference my father used when he joined the Navy in 1947.

The one I found most enlightening… and surprising, was the one written by his high school principal. It listed that he had passed all of his subjects, except the optional French and Latin. Then it listed the two subjects in which he excelled. Mathematics was not a surprise, given that he worked in marine engineering. The second, however, threw me for a loop, as it would be one of the last subjects I expected.

My father excelled in Drama…

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How to sweat the small stuff

It’s strange the things that throw you off in times like these. It’s not the huge issues that are the problem. It’s the little, mundane things that throw you for a loop.

I have, probably for some totally perverse reason, been obsessing over getting the garbage out at Dad’s. With everyone here last week, there was a fair bit of it. And, Cape Breton Regional Municipality has mandatory recycling, which is not a problem in itself. However, they collect your recycling and the formula for what goes where was, to me, a bit confusing. Home, I just take the stuff to the recycling center and put it in its proper bins, including sorting plastic by grade. No problem. Figuring out what goes in what blue bag, with even fewer criteria than those I’m used to has befuddled me.

All being said and done, however, it’s all sorted and out on the street for pickup tomorrow morning. And, in spite of how minor a job this is, I feel infinitely less stressed now that it’s out there…