What a great day it was. Thanksgiving. Thanking each and every one of you who were there and thinking of those who were somewhere else.

I looked and saw young and old, smiling and happy. I saw cunning and openness in the faces of the little ones. trying to guess what little ones are thinking is a difficult endeavour. But I certainly saw happiness, some questioning, some wondering, some just happy.

Every day I wonder how being so far away from so many of your relatives will affect you i.e. Joan, Kate and Joe. I left willingly and went to many places before I returned to my home and revisited my family. But you were dragged off to the backwoods of Cape Breton and only on rare occasions met with any of your kin.

Perhaps it does not matter in your lives. You have your own lives to live and those close to you to comfort and support you. But perhaps it does matter and you wish for a closer connection with those far away to whom you are related.

So, if you are wishing to reconnect to those who are far away, let me know and I will try to arrange it.

Be assured that whichever you choose it will not affect the depth of the live I have for you and your offspring. Despite my infrequency of blogging, I do think of you often and wonder how I could be more in your lives. Alas, distance, for me anyway, makes my heart grow fonder. So I treasure each and every time I see you and visit and watch and share.


I saw and felt community, love, joy, happiness, sharing, a whole symphony of interaction. Thanks again for inviting me to join you in your celebration.

Larcheveque was the place we went to get clams or in the case of Katieann, perriwinkles.
When we went to the beach it was Grand River beach. !!!
The rocks, the sand the uncluttered stretch of sand, the point off in the distance, the seclusion where no one but us seemed to come.
But the world changes and we change with it.
Now to go to Grand River beach you need a four wheel drive vehicle and a high clearance to get up the road.
so we go to Larcheveque where only the brave get stuck in the sand.

What a time! Grown grandchildren. cavorting , greeting, hugging, talking and sharing their lives with the old guy (in the words of my son).

Sun, Sand, Waves, Water, more sun, food, TREATS, for those quick enough or sly enough to grab them before Mothers found out.

Special treats and taste delights. Who could guess that an omelett (sp?) could be a breakfast treat at the beach.

Watching cousins interact. Watching children interact with uncles and aunts and grandparents. Watching smiles when the children enjoy the activity. Watchng looks of puzzlement when they are not sure of what will happen next. Watching concentration when the game is on. Watching excitement when a new person arrives or a new car comes down the beach.

Feeling warmth and love and caring and concern and happiness.

Wishing that each day was longer.

Wishing that it could be recorded so that each of us could look back and see the faces and the joy and the happiness and the fun.

Wondering what each of the younger people will someday become. Wondering how each of the older people will deal with the problems of the day.

Wishing for a magic wand that would wipe out troubles and explode the good feelings to make them last a lifetime.

Wondering what memories each of those who were there will carry back into the future.

What a wonderful weekend. What a beautiful group of people. What a memory to share with all those who could come and those who could only wish they had been there.

In another year lives will change. Can it ever be as it was this past weekend No but each experience will be a new memory to be savoured and cherished and held and re-examined and re-enjoyed until the next time.

More than a year

They say that when you are having fun, time flies. Well if that is true then I have been having a ball.
It seems that it is more than a year since I last posted. But then, I haven't received many blogs from those whose blogs I used to read. I think only one or two for the year.

Perhaps I should say something as the weather starts to (finally) edge toward Summer. On my walk with the dog today I saw three interesting things. (Interesting to me but perhaps not to the world at large. No. 1 was a mileage marker from the old railway. It is a concrete post wider at the bottom narrowing toward the top. It is about a meter tall, square, 3/4 buried in the grass at the edge of the Confederation Trail. It is covered with moss and try as I would I could not see the markings on it because it is too deeply buryied.

Next I saw a tree bordering the field next to the trail which appears to be a person (man) sitting with another person on his knee. Thatr made me think of the man times my children sat on my knee.

Next was a fallen tree, off the trail. It was like a huge bird or dinosaur which was eating something it had captured. A knot in the trunk of the tree looks like an eye and the broken end of the tree looks like the beak of a bird or a dinosaur.

I promise that tomorrow or monday I will photograph these wonders of nature and forward them to you.

Just Suppose

Perhaps I should start by asking why I suppose I know how to work onthe laptop!!!

Next I should ask what you would do if you were going to spend the next six months in an apartment in Ottawa. I have avoided asking myself that question because I don't have ready answers.

Audrey and I are working on a mystery novel about Paterson Kane, the Canadian Golfer who with his caeddy, half Newfie/half Thailander computer geek Lo Chin (LC for short)Shey aided by a friendly interpol agent Bob Sherman try to solv e a murder at the Dubai Open Golf Tournament.

Nuff for now

Just Suppose

Father's Day

I am told and I checked that this Sunday coming is called Father's Day.

I would like to propose that we call it Childrens' Day instead. What is a father without children. A man? a person? what.?

But what is a man with children? A giant, a hero, a mentor, a guide, a companion, a comforter, a provider, a teacher, an example, and yea, a fulfilled person who glories in and finds comfort in and shares with and enjoys his children.

So this should be children's day. The day which celebrates to contributation that children make to turning a man into a father. A man without children is a person, true. But a man with children is a person and more. He is a fulfilled person, a happy person, at times, a driven person, ah, how can I explain how much my children mean to me???

Fatherhood is not a fact of life...it is learned from children. It becomes when the children develop the man into fatherhood.

So let ME celebrate my children who have made me into the person that I have become. They have given me inspiration, , motivation, pride, and yes, HAPPINESS.

Children make a man a father. Let us celebrate our children on this day. So what if Halmark doesn't have a card for the occasion. Do it anyway. Make this day children's day. Celebrate the innocence, love, smiles, warmth of children.

Thinking of Children

Back in 2005 I wrote a letter to each of you telling you how proud I was of you and all that you had and are accomplishing. Now four years later I realize how little I have actually told each of you how much I appreciate having you as my children.

If fathers are judged by the quality and accomplishments of their children then I am a very fortunate father.

Every day I wish that I could be nearby to watch and marvel at what you have become and are becoming.

Every day I wish that each of you could be close by so that I could tell you how much you mean to me.

Every day I am thankful for having you as my children. I call you my children but in reality each of you are your own person, grown to become what you are. My role has long since passed into the shadows and now you are doing "your thing", becoming the person that YOU wish to be and WILL become.

Watching, hoping, wishing that each of you will have joy and happiness in your life in the measure that you have brought to me in my life.

When I hear stories of parents whose children are problems, I realize how lucky I was to have had you who were not problems; who were joys; who filled me; who made my life meaningful.

Today, tomorrow and every day in the future I will think of you and all that you mean to me. I wish you every success in your lives. I see your wonderful accomplishments and I think how hard you have worked to reached there plateaus. I wish I could have provided a ladder so that the steps to where you are now would not have been struggles to reach but rather steps that were easy.

Saying that, I realize that whatever comes easily really ins't worth the work it took to get there and that working hard and struggling results in the understanding of the value of what has been accomplished.

So, if any of you read this, just know that I love you and think of you ofen and wish you well in your lives.

More Snow

I spent much of my outdoor time last week shovelling the drive. I managed to get the truck down to the road by driving over the front lawn where the snow was not as deep as in the drive. Then I started shavelling from the road up toward the garage. I moved the truck further and further up the lane as I shovelled.

The days friday to Sunday were springlike and I was actually having fun moving chunks of snow. By Sunday afternoon the truck was almost halfway to the garage.

On monday morning Audrey and I left for a day trip to Moncton in the car. It began snowing shortly after we crossed the bridge and by the time we got to Moncton there was enough snow that the plows were on the road.

We left Moncton at noon because the storm was getting worse and we didn't want to be away for another day. After a little over three hours of white knuckle driving for our hundred and fifty km we arrived home and managed to get the car into the end of the drive but knew then that it was stuck there.

My truck was invisible under a mound of new snow. Looking up the drive the house was not visible. We trudged through thigh deep shallow spots to reach the house.

Ya gotta love winter some years.

I wonder what the prognosis is for being able to move the truck when the snow recedes in a few weeks?

Wondering - 2

Union Meeting,
Reg Berringer the shop steward from the police academy was supposed to represent us at the Annual general meeting of UPSE (Union of Public Sector Employees). He couldn't go and asked me to go to represent our section. I agreed. Day two of borrrrrring meetings who shows up but Audrey Penner - who also wasn't supposed to go to the meeting and in fact told the Union Rep that he should take her name off the list. He didn't and she ended coming in Saturday (meeting started on Friday night) and sat next to me. The rest is History as the say ing goes. I won a door prize...50 $ for a local pub. I invited the beautiful woman next to me to join me in spending the windfall. She agreed and the rest is MORE HISTORY. We ducked out early, had a drink together and began what is now our married life. Wonderful. Chance? Good Luck? Fate? Karma? Who knows why things happen as they do. Who knows why? But the important thing is to enjoy the thngs that happen and find all the happiness that you can in the road you have chosen.

Just wait until I Wonder #3 comes along. I have about twenty of these events in my life.

Wondering

I wonder what my life would have been (or not been as the case may be) if at a number of crucial junctures I had done something else than what I did. For example, I enrolled in law school in Washington DC with an eye to going into the FBI when I completed law school. One day I got up to DC early and decided to visit the personnel office of the FBI to see what my chances would be when I finished law school
Lo and behold, they had a big need for new agents at the time I walked into the office. I took a test, took another test, was interviewed, was re-interviewed and then interviewed by both of the prople who interviewed me earlier. End result, my application was accepted and they began doing the background checks and shortly after I got out of the Navy I got accepted into the FBI.

It was just luck that I hit the office at the right time when they needed Agents. It was just luck that I decided to go to DC in the morning instead of waiting for the evening class at the University.

Had I not gone at that time or had the need for agents not been as great or or or what would have happened afterwards. What alternative life would have been mine.

I did something with out a great deal of planning or forethought and it ended up changing the course of my life. Go figure!!!!

I can cite a number of similar incidents or occasions that changed the course of my life. I wonder then what life would have been if not for these forks in the road where I took one fork without advance planning, without pondering what might lie in the other direction.

Have you been there too??? Have we all been there and only realize it when the world turns out the way it did?

Wondering

I remember -2

This time I am going to remember things about my childhood...

I remember going to kindergarten at public school #77 (the local catholic school did not have a kindergarten). Shortly after I began attending some kid who was playing with the building blocks decided to hit me in the head with one...or did I hit some kid in the head with one...memories???

I remember Nativity of the BVM (that's Blessed Virgin Mary for those uninitiated) school. It was on Albany Street about as far from my house as my mailbox is at this house. Brisk walking would get me there in about 2 minutes. My usual pace was 45 seconds. Why the hurry???

We were expected to attend the 8:15 mass at the Church (same name), sit with our class and then march in line to the school. In the afternoon when we returned from lunch we lined up with our classmates out in front of the school (boys that is), girls lined up at the side door of the school and when the bell rang we proceeded in silence to our rooms. There was usually a class monitor at the head of the line who led us.

I remember Pat the janitor who worked in the basement furnace room. He stoked the furnace in the winter and cleaned after classes let out. The furnace room was also the place where we went to "clap" erasers, i.e. bang the erasers together to get the chalk dust out of them. Any of you remember "clapping erasers"? If the weather was good we did it outside at the side of the building and often made designs on the wall. Of course that was not the expected "clapping procedure" but much more fun than just banging them together.

Clapping erasers was on of the chores that went to a teachers pet. I don't know why except that it meant you didn't have to file out of the school with everyone else. You got to stay behind and help Sister clean the room. OH Goody...

I remember one time throwing the erasers against the side of the building to beat the dust out and one of them went up and landed on a low (one story) roof outside the entrance to the boiler room.

Being in grave fear of returning without the requisite number of erasers, we (Paul Tardif and I who were co-conspirators ) tried without success to scale the wall to the roof and finally snuck a ladder out of the bioiler room when Pat wasn't looking and retrieved it that way. Such adventures?

Perhaps tomorrow or the next day I will remember something else and bore you with it.

I remember

Eight ten on a cold wet autuum evening. I am waiting...waiting for ...well the song says waiting for the world.

I remember...and this is why I have decided to blog again after such a long hiatus (that's fancy talk for an interruption or pause).

I remember when I first saw Joan through the window of the nursery.

I remember when I first saw Joe in a room off the delivery room with an oxygen mask on his tiny face.

I remember when I first saw Kate emerge and when I first held her in the delivery room.

I remember your mother on all these occasions. I remember her wanting a cigarette in her room after Joan was born and how I held Joan and took her out of the room while her mother had a smoke.
I remember her look when she woke and asked how Joe was.

I remember the smile when she heard Kate cry and how she held out her arms to take her back from me. How we sat together in the recovery room.

I remember how we planned for Joe to be a natural birth and how in the end the dr. insisted on an epidural and then administered it wrong so that you mother was paralized and Joe was delivered with a forcepts and then given oxygen. I remember the marks on his head.

I remember holding all of you as very tiny babies and sitting in the rocker and watching you and wishing that I could make every moment of your lives as happy as mine was sitting there watching you. I remember carrying you around the house in the snuggli...I remember taking all of you to the Mall to the carousel and into the Smithsonian Museum. I remember the look of awe as you saw the giant Mamoth in the lobby of the science building. I remember your laughter on the carousel.

I remember Joan climbing out of the crib and refusing to go to sleep. I remember coming home from work and getting down on the floor to play with all of you.

I remember Joan pulling all the books out of the bookcase until we filled the bottom shelf with her books and then she pulled up to get our books out of the upper shelves.

I remember Joe playing hide and seek...standing in the toilet and thinking I couldn't see him.

I remember playing on Saturday morning in the basement on Cheverly Ave when I would fall asleep counting for the hide and seek game and being roused by Joan. "Daddy, you're not looking"

I remember the little play house in back of the house in Cheverly and how the termites had made the floor unsafe.

I remember the slide I made in the backyard at Cheverly...from a piece of awning that blew off during a storm...

I could go on and on with the memories...happy...sad...but all a part of my life and yours.

So maybe there will be more of this some time in the near future.

Remember to enjoy every moment of your lives...whether hard or pleasant,enjoy...enjoyment a state of mind that says that I will...no matter what happens..see the brighter side and enjoy.

I remember Joe playing garbage man in his room...dumping everything on his bed so he wouldn't have to go to sleep. I remember sitting at the top of the stairs in cheverly Md. so I wouldn't have to go all the way up to put Joe back into bed after he got up for the one millionth time.

I remember Kate not wanting to sleep at night after her two am feeding and me walking around with her in the Snuggli and her looking up at me and refusing to fall asleep.

I remember going to work with baby smell on my clothes after hugging all of you goodbye in the morning.

I remember so many things that you brought to my life and I thank you for all of them...Love, Dad

how do I get to where I want to go

Sounds pretty imposing for a title. BUT and now I raise my big BUTT. I received a message to view "Dust in the Wind" but I don't know how to get to it. So this

Another Winter's Day

Today I wanted to take off and drive over the bridge and see the NS family. However I watched the weather channel and decided that discretion was better than driving into a storm. So I sit and watch the white stuff blow across the window. And here of course it blows and blows and blows.
My driveway is once again filledwith snow. So what, I don't have to go anywhere. Audrey is in Edmonton preparing to fly to Denver COL. US. The dog is in the garage. The cats are in the basement and I am free to do whatever I wish within the limitations of the house. So I will read, watch TV, get on the treadmill, and BLOG...
This afternoon as I was driving back from Summerside I heard a song on the radio. The young lady sang of how she talked with her grandfather and always ended the conversation with "I love you" but the g...father never responded in the same way. Nonetheless, she said that she knew her grandfather loved her too.

That made me think about how you, my children shaped my life. What would I have been if YOU had not been the center of my life for so many years. You made me into the person I am today. Now that may sound strange to you. But think about how much my life has been about you and you must then realize that you were the main focus and therefore formative part of my adult life.

Does this make any sense?

It is meant to say that I love you all and want you to know how much I treasure you. I know I don't say it often enough...and maybe not at all but I feel it and I want you to know.

Guess I better stop this before the key board gets too wet.

Who pays the carbon tax?

Big news these days is the tax on carbon. The belief behind this move is that if you have to pay more for polluting the atmosphere you will choose to pollute less.

I was still a smoker when the government instituted big taxes on cigarettes. It angered me but did not stop me from smoking...something to which I was addicted. However it did create new industry... shipping untaxed cigarettes across the border and then smuggling them back bringing a new source of profit for the "entrepreneurs"

My point, "sin taxes" are generally an ineffective way to change peoples habits.

The other and more critical issue in the proposed "carbon tax" is that it will most affect those who can least afford it. Those who are poor or who are on fixed/limited incomes. Ah Ha! If you can't afford oil to heat your home, then get up and run around the room and stay warm that way. Or as my mother used to say, put on a sweater. "Another one", I always answered in a sarcastic tone...which started the usual verbal battle.

Now, if you can afford to buy a super sized, over powered, gas guzzler to drive around and impress the neighbors, you can probably afford to pay a bit more for gas. But if like most workers, you need your wheels to get to your minimum wage job at the mall and the bus doesn't run by the house, then the extra price for your gas is going to hurt. Oh Yes, buy a hybrid and then you won't have to use as much gas. You only have to double the price you pay for the vehicle so that it takes twenty years to offset the savings on the gas you didn't use???

My solution to the problem is to take all vehicles out of our cities except for mass transit. No cars big or small. Bring back the rail lines, Take the big rigs off the roads and out of the cities. Tim Hortons and Robins and the ilk will hate this suggestion. But just consider for a moment the amount of pollution generated by the drive through lines at so called "fast food" restaurants and coffee houses.

Possible, probably not. Too many dollars being made in the auto industry, the oil industry and the coffee industry. We have been too accoustomed to the easy way rather than being organized. As a child our family did not have a car. My father rode to work on the bus. We took a wagon to the supermarket to carry groceries home. We walked to the theater and school and the nearby empty lots to play.

The one thing that is possible is to ban private autos inside city limits and institute a vigorous economical mass transit system. That could significantly reduce smog problems for our big cities and ultimately reduce our carbon emissions. It could be done. It has been done...I can't remember where, someplace in Europe I think where license plates that ended in odd or even numbers could only be in the city on alternate days.

But don't tax y necessary home heating system. Don't tax my necessary auto travel. Don't tax the poor and allow the wealthy to pollute without regard.

Recalling???

Friday February fifteenth...such alliterative chances should not go unprinted.

I am trying to recall my early years in school. Grade 1 was sister Matilda, OSJ...Order of Saint Joseph...I think. She of the thick yardstick which she used to enforce discipline (as if grade one pupils needed DISCIPLINE). We sat in assigned seats in rows. Girls on the left hand side of the class closest to the door, boys i the rows to the right. I was third in the first row of boys which meant I had a girl to my right. But it also meant that I was in the row directly in front of Sister M's desk and therefore under constant scrutiny and ergo (latin for therefore) often caught passing notes to or from the girls side to the boys side. A CAPITAL offense in grade one.

I don't remember what I did but I do remember receiving a number of hits with the ruler (yardstick) across the palm for minor offenses and across the knuckles for more severe offenses whatever they might have been.
SADISM - was not a work in my vocab at that time!

Grade tw0 and three were combined. A non-nun...can't remember her name but I do remember she let me do multiplacation tables without having to check by means of division because I could always get them right??? Me and Math??? something fell by the wayside in the rest of my elementary years.

Grade 4 . By this time I was an alter boy and Hooks Nocoletta aka sister was in charge of grade 4 and the alter boy contingent. Hooks because she would constantly pick at your surplice to even it out . Surplice is the white, starched over garment that the alterboys wore over their cassocks...the long black robes. Any way, Hooks was okay as far as I can remember as long as you showed up for you altar assignments.

Grade 5. Sister Joan Marie...BTW they all had Mary or some derivitive as a part of their name...Mary Matilda , Mary Nicoletta, Joan Marie, etc. She was fresh out of the Novitiate where they brainwash the young ladies who seek to make jesus their spouse for life. She was not much older than some of the retards that were three or four years behind their age group. In those days you could fail a kid who didn't pass his exams and keep him or her back for a second or third year in the grade they failed. Not so anymore...too much damage to the psyche.

So what is all this to thee and to me... Not much!!!

I could tell you the story of how Bill (lnu) set fire to the display of cotton in the front of the room by shooting a match out of an empty spool. It hit the black board over the cotton field display on a table in the front of the room and caught fire. Sister JM ran for the door...only way out...and had to go past the blazing cotton batten. She told us to stay where we were and came back in after pulling the fire alarm with an extinguisher and put the fire out. By this time her wimple was askew and I learned that nuns had hair under their uniforms. DEVASTATING.

Grade 6 was my last year at Nativity BVM (aka blessed virgin mary) the nun in charge (name conveniently forgotten) was also the school principle or is that principal?? Enough of this nonsense for now.\

Ethics

Wednesday, February 13, 2008
The storm predicted is here. Hard to see the road from the house.

So why ethics.?

What's ethics? Well it's morals, principles, rules of living. It is in simple terms - doing the right thing. Now what is the right thing. A jihadist thinks that the right thing is to blow oneself up in pursuit of the cause in order to achieve a high place in "heaven".
A good christian (should that be capatialized?) follows the ten commandments and the "golden rule". Do unto others, etc. But puzzlingly ( if that is a word) those who follow Mohamed (jihadists) believe that Jesus (aka the Christ - ergo Christians) was a prophet like Mohamed. So where did the "golden rule" go for those who folllow Islam?
Turn the other cheek? For how long? Again and again and again?

Or react? React for what? Earthly power and control? Christians used to believe (perhaps still do) that martyrdom was an instant, guaranteed get into heaven card. From the earliest martyrs, e.g. Stephen who was stoned (in the rocks on head style) down to and including those in the middle ages who died in Crusades in order to promote the faith, the highest order of heaven awaited them.

So where is "love one another". Love thy enemies. Do good to those who hate you.

Perhaps "Ethics" is a worldly concern and not a religious concern???

"And all we are saying, is give peace a chance"

Give love a chance. Do good to those who harm you. Forgive, forget and move on.

Is the world doomed to react with anger or is there a way to rise above the feeling that we must get even. Yes, some deranged (?) individuals did a horrible thing on 9/11. Yes loved ones were lost. So we, a supposedly christian nation react by ?"Turning the other cheek"...No...Hell no... they won't get away with that...whoever they are. So we bomb Afghanistan, we bomb Iraq. We kill. We (those who have power in the Western World) bomb and maim and hurt in the name of a political system. They wouldn't do this if they had a system like ours???? Which only hurts people economically???

Genug. Ver zulatz lacht lacht am besten.

Watching the snow

Monday February 11...the snow is falling, the wind is blowing. I shovelled for about half an hour just to get a path down to the car and clean out in front of the car. School was delayed so A. stayed home until almost 8:30 before she came down to get into the car.

I thought I might get the truck out of the lane and go in to pick up the mail. However, I'm not sure the work is worth it because I really don't expect any mail. It is just an excuse to get out.

Instead I might just do some of those wonderful things I said I might do like finish the basement insulation and frame up the bath room down stairs.

But then I might just curl up with a book and doze between pages and watch the snow fall.

The trail I made for my cross country skiing is now deep in the snow and new trail breaking is in order sometime today...maybe.

Life is hard when you are retired and have all these decisions to make.

Meanwhile I cogitate about world affairs and politics and people. In the past I thought I could do something about these things. Now I realize that I can only control my life and not always that. So I have only one purpose here and that is to enjoy my life as much as I can. Try not to hurt others and try to help others when the opportunity arises. fiat

I"m Back

Sunday 10, 2008
May 2007 was my last post to blogger. I wonder now if anyone still uses this mode of communication. What with facebook and it's derivitives, this is so old hat or is it that way to me because I haven't been here lately?

Anyway, I have decided to begin again to record reminescences so that you my readers (I think only my children) will have more to pass on or carry with you.

So this is a start and I will promise to try a daily up date. But first I will reread my posts and yours to see where I have been in my remin...s.

So til tomorrow.

Today is...

Today is the first day in the rest of my life.... But then every day is the first day in the rest of my life at least upon awakening. However, the expression is meant to convey the idea that whatever has happened in the past, (especially bad things) today is a new beginning in which you (or I as the case may be) can begin again to do the things I want to do with a positive spin rather than the negative which may have chased me.

Now, tonight is the next class in the course "Sociology of Adult Education". Isn't that impressive. Hey, when I went to school, the kids did what they were told and the teachers did what they wanted to the kids and they called it education no matter what method...(e.g. beat them into submission), the teacher (frustrated nun) used.

Now, I should not be picking on Nuns because some of them were wonderful teachers. (I am struggling to remember which taught with skill and tact rather than the inch thick ruler) even if my memory has failed because of age.

I however am a WONDERFUL teacher because I make my students or pupils or class or whatever, WONDER what the old guy is up to when he says that or this.

I want every teaching experience to be a postive one for my "students"...the young people who are forced by circumstance to be in the class in order to get the piece of paper which says that they can do what they already know they can do because they are doing it. Such is the world of academe'.

Problem is that Sociology of Education is so broad that it can't be condensed into a "course". Rather it is "life in the classroom" no matter where that may be...from primary to post doctoral studies. So teaching it is in a sense trying to condense life in the class room into a course that has definable parameters. Sure,,, use a big amorprous word when limits would be sufficient. Nonetheless, (whateverthatmeans) tonight, or this evening, or later today, or however you wish to describe the time between 6 and 9, 16 plus people will be forced to endure what I want to throw their way because I am the teacher, instructor, professor, who is in charge because the U pays me to be there and do what I am doing. And they or it dosen't (or don't if you prefer they) have a clue what I am doing in the classroom ...only that I am "qualified" to do whatever it is that I am doing.

What I do is have fun with my friends who have paid money to be there. Kind of like a live play except I involve the audience or more correctly I let the audience construct the play.

Genug or if I were an ancient Greek I would say...take this message from marathon to Athens...Thus the Marathon???

The Buffalo Five

These are my recollections of the Buffalo five and not to be associated with first hand evidence because most of this is what I heard from others.

The story as I recall was that a group of Anti Vietnam war protesters in Buffalo conducted a raid on the offices of the draft board in the post office building in Buffalo New York. Although there were a larger number involved in the planning, there were seven who took part. Six went into the building and the 7th was in the getaway car.

The draft board raid was timed to coincide with a similar raid in Camden New Jersey. However, an informant in Camden had tipped the FBI about the raids and they showed up at the P.O. building after the six had gone into the draft board offices.

As I understand it, the getaway driver saw the FBI arrive but was not able to contact those in the building to alert them (no cell phones in those days). He (Kenny Moodie, I think) instead drove to the rendesvous to report and wait for a call to pick up any who might have gotten away.

Jim Goode (a.k.a. Jaime Bueno) one of the six inside saw the agents getting on an elevator to take then up to the floor of the Draft Board Offices and escaped by going down the stairs and after looking about unsuccessfully for the getaway car, ran off into the night. He was dresed in black clothes and like the others had his face and hands blackened so as to be less visible. However his escape route took him into the heart of the Black neighborhood on William Strteet. There he tried to borrow a dime (fancy ten cents for a phone call) to use a pay phone to get a pick up.

The other five were trapped by the FBI agents in the Draft board offices, arrested, jailed and eventually put on trial. I have tried to remember the five arrested and I think they were Chuck Darst and his girlfriend , Harry Davis, Jerimiah something and one other whose name escapes me. I think Jim Martin who stayed for a while in a cabin on Barren Hill road was the other.

We moved to Buffalo in June of 1970 and I started law school in September of that year. There I joined an organization called I think, Law Students Concerned. We took the role of unbiased, impartial observers of various anti-war demonstrations and protests in order we thought to be able to dispell rumours of protestors attacking police and vice versa.

In Washington while still working for the FBI investigating the antiwar movement, I had met Mike Daugherty, a former classmate at the minor seminary. He had gone to study with the Jesuits and there met Fr. Berrigan who was one of the first members of the "Catholic Left" to be involved with Draft Board Raids. Berrigan and others took draft records and publicly burned them to protest the US use of Napham in Vietnam and to "save those young men who might be drafted to fight and be killed in Vietnam"

I met Mike again in Buffalo and we renewed our friendship and he asked Cammie and me to join the anti war movement. When the trial of the, so called, Buffalo Five was about to get underway, we agreed to let those from out of town stay at our house during the trial.

Jim Goode and some others fixed the attic up as a bunk area for those staying. I could go on and on but that is the gist of it. Jim Goode and some others came up to CB after we were there and I remember that they used wood from an old falling down shack to make bunk beds for the three children.

I'm tired...of writing this. But there is much more. Did I ever tell you that I went to Camden New Jersey to testify at the trial of the Camden 28 as a defense witness concerning the FBI's methods of getting informants and how sometimes informants become agents provacateur as in the Camden and by extension the Buffalo Five cases.

Testing testing testing

According to Joan, I am now in the new blogger site where only Joan, Joe and Kate (or others on the site like Kelly for example) can access my blogs.
the purpose of this test blog is to see if A. a blog is created, B. if it can be read by all those who are on my list, i.e. Joan, Joe, and Kate. So, if you can read this, send a comment so I can know (why did the italic start??? - technology) Let me out - Now I clicked the italic setting and it takes me out of rather than into italic - go figure. And C. an excuse not to post a real ;blog.

Every Day in Every Way

There was a time when I said, half jokingly, "Every Day in Every Way I'm Getting Better and Better". Now I wonder.

I wonder - have I gotten as good as I am going to get?
I wonder - What's the point in getting better and better?
I wonder - What's better - better than what?
I wonder - if my life has reached that point where I am merely marking time until the inevitable.
I am certain that I am happy, fulfilled, healthy and ready to be of use to the world.
I am certain that I am ready for any challenge that is placed in my path.
I am equally certain that I will not find any problems in my path that can't be overcome. Or is that just the reverse of what I said before???
I am uncertain that I have any particular purpose at this time
I am uncertain that simply enjoying my life as it is, is what I am meant to do and
I am uncertain that I would want any "New Purpose" for my existence.
YET, each day I wonder if there isn't more that I could do or be or become to make myself or someone else more comfortable or better or wiser or whatever.

So life has become this enigma - fulfilling - and yet empty. Jopyful, happy, full of meaning yet sad, painful and meaningless.

Where does one go to find the answers? to religion?
To friends
To new goals
To work
To hobbies
To volunteering
To writing blogs that no one will read? Or rather a very few close persons will read and worry over.
Perhaps I must look deeply inside myself for the answers. But naval gazing has never been my forte. so is a Blog simply desktop naval gazing?

This leads to inevitable, important question...is it Naval OR Navel or does it make a difference to me as a former naval officer...see I have answered my question.
AH HA much like Ta Dah! an epiphany!As always, the answer is in the question. Seek and you shall find, Knock and it shall be opened unto you says the good book...at least some people think it is a good book, I wonder

Here I am back to wondering.

I wonder if there is anything that I can do to be of any value to my children that I have not already done when they were my "children" and not self sufficient adults pursuing their own path in the world.

I wonder, and wonder and wonder and hope and hope and wish and wish and worry and care and sit here and push keys because I can't be any other place at this time. Good thing I am happy. Soon enough I will have to be happy because I will be too old or infirm or unable to carry myself to other places or drive or even walk. As if happiness is not a good thing in itself, (which most would say it is). Be content with what you arre... or keep striving to be more. Which is the way.???

Auf Deutsch man sacht GENUG or in Israeli (not not written backwards) Toda raba laka) That is for all those who have endured to this point. Many thanks for reading my musings. I welcome your comments

Another year ending

Each morning seems colder. Each day drearier. It's too cold to be comfortable for a long bike ride and there's no snow to cross country ski upon. It's the in between time when I wait for what will come and wonder.

It's a month and a half since I last wrote. It was a very full time. I started teaching a Communications course in the for UPEI; travelled to Buffalo with my son to see the Bills get Stomped by the patriots (no capital letter because they're not really patriotic) and the Sabres romp over the Hurricanes; had a late birthday party with brothers, sister and their families; visited with family; reunited with four classmates from my high school daze and then did a quick trip to Halifax when I returned to the maritimes.

Lately I've been busy with getting in the lawn furniture, securing things for the winter weather, working on refinishing a couple of old pieces of furniture that we picked up recently. And generally, keeping busy but not doing anything that amounted to much. Such is the life of the retiree. Always the busy work, sometimes excitement and mostly just being and enjoying each day as it comes.

Sometimes when you let yourself think about it you wonder why. But mostly it's just a lot of fun watching the world roll by and reacting or not to the craziness that always seems to pop up around you.

Now I'll take the dog for a little run, check the mail at the box and then depending on what's there, go into town for lunch with Audrey and hit the bank on the way back or not if my check isn't in the mail. I guess that's an old story.

Anyway, here's another blog. Maybe now that the weather is making the indoors more appealing I'll write more. Or not?

Rainy Day

It's raining. The title would tell you that. But, I mean it's raining. so I sit here and contemplate my navel and wonder what today will bring. I live each day with little in the way of a plan because that's the way I have always done it.

I've been contacted by classmates of my early days in high school. 2006 is the 50 year anniversary of the HS grad of the class that I started in 1992 at the "Little Sem" Or Minor Seminary if you prefer. It was a prep school for those who would later go on to the "Major Seminary" to study for the priesthood.

Because of this contact, I began trying to recall first of all the names and then events connected with the names of fifty years ago. Now in another venue I am trying to construct a memory book to send ahead and ask for others to fill in the blanks with their recollections of those early days. Perhaps if any of you who were in the classes at the minor sem in those days want to begin your own memory journal, we can compare notes and reminiscences when I get to Blfo in October.

Sorrow

Nothing hurts a parent as much as the sorrow of a child.
Each cry brings heart stopping anguish.

An urge to replace hurt with comfort and warmth
And put joy, happiness and love in its place

Creates the feeling of helplessness.

The loss of a friend is a sad occasion
the loss of a trusted collegue

In a field where trust is earned grudgingly
makes the loss more poignant


And deepens the sorrow.

I feel your pain.

Trying to remember

Back in the mid eighties when I was doing some commentaries for CBC radio in Sydney there was a debate going on about amalgamation of the various municipalities into one larger one (as has been done).

There were some people in the smaller municipalities that argued that amalgamtion would result in a loss of identity for the smaller places.

I opined in my commentary that people would always identify with the neighborhood where they were raised regardless of what name the municipality came to be called. I stated that I was born on 14th street on the west side of Buffalo in the state of new York in the coultry called the United States.

When I identified myself to others from the city I was from 14th street on the West side. When I left the city and went down state to school I was from Buffalo, When I joined the navy and went to Newport Rhode Island and later Virginia, I was from New York State, when I went overseas I was from the U.S. (and no I don't know your mother's third cousin who emigrated to Peoria). Throughout all this I still remember the front room of the house on 14th Street where the four older boys in the family bunked in two army surplus bunk beds (U.S.carved in the end, khaki colored functionally ugly).

Now when I meet people and they ask where I am from I always respond, "recently from Kingston PEI before that many places".

I have always believed that where you were from is unimpoprtant, it was where you are going that makes a difference. What you do for a living is essential for survival, what you do with your life is what gives meaning to that life. Now I try to find more things to do with my life that will give more meaning. I find however that when I impart the information that I am retired, I am greeted with this look which says - gee your lucky but your life is over. So I sit and remember and try to give meaning to the days gone by. Yet I know that by living each day as fully as I can I am adding new meaning to my life and the lives of those who touch me and whom I touch.

I have been very fortunate to find a companion whom I love deeply and with whom I can share these days of retirement. She challenges me on so many levels because she is intelligent, interesting, adventurous, kind, loving, and daring. Each day is now an adventure to be enjoyed. I have set new goals for myself and although no one but me knows these goals, they will when I reach them, If I reach them. And if not thenI will have enjoyed the trying.

So much for these non memories. Except to state that over the years I have lived (periods of 6 mo residence or more) in over twenty five different locations, 26 if you count my state room on board the ship). I remember each of them, why I moved there, how long I stayed, who or whom I stayed with and why I left. It is no wonder that short term memory is fallible, there's hardly enough room left for recent memories with all the past cluttering up the storage space. I need more gigabytes.

Contacts, friends, former associates

I began blogging because my older daughter wanted to know more of my history (and therefore hers)She sent me some pictures and I commented on the pictures in a blog.
Since that time I have learned that not only my children but my siblings and relatives have been reading the old guy's rants.

From this I re-established a contact with a former co-worker.

When my brother Jim visited from Buffalo, NY, I learned that (in his words) a lot of the cousins have been reading the old guy's rants. If you are someone related to me who has been ;reading or someone I used to know who has seen these blogs, please send a comment so that we can spread the net and communicate more widely.

Wonderful Sunday

It is beautiful,warm and sunny today. The place is beautiful. After digging out mounds of weeds the flowers are beginning to show their beauty. It was not a good time to be on the road but with all the rain we had here it is doubtful that we would have been interested in anything but staying dry and warm.

Now I am beginning to start on the new deck outside the door to Atley's room. It is only going to be 6x8 so it is not a big job. When I finish this I will put steps down to the yard and then a board walkway to the steps off the other deck. Soon we will have a place where our outdoor sitting tent can stand without danger of blowing away and we can eat out in the yard??? but that is the future. Meanwhile we enjoy hostas which are just beginning to bloom. The varigated ones come to blossom first then the plain green. The plain green are enormous again. Every year we split them and move parts to different places and by the end of the summer they are enormous again. Astilbe are starting to come, Perennial geranium are full and hearty and errupting with pretty pinkish floweres so they look like huge flowered balls. Our Asiatic lillies are now coming out also with striking orange, yellow and red/orange blossoms. We expect to see more of these as the month goes on.

We have a new ride on mower...Audrey's baby and she is enjoying the fact that she can keep ahead of the mowing. I have the push mower for work around the edges and in tight spots and it is a delight to start. It actually starts on the first pull of th cord and no long electrical extentions to worry about. But with the price of gas even this pleasure is somewhat reduced. Then there is the polution...get serious why put a damper on such fun. And it is fun watching the flowers grow, seeing which plants take and flourish and which don't. Then trying again with those that don't and encouraging those that do. Fun fun fun. I would never have guessed as a youngster watching my grandmother tend her poenies and pansys that I would some day look forward to mine.

Getting old is an adventure and a more pleasant one than growing up as a young person. Genug

Haiku: Lilacs & Lilly of the Valley

Lilacs

Lilac blooms
fill the senses
purple shades
and smell recall
childhood joy.


Lillys of the Valley

Lillys of the valley
rise before me
faint aroma
happy days.

Lilacs

Monday Morning in the basement of the Education Building. Audrey has office space here reserved for doctoral students and I am here on her coat tail with not much to do today as she is on her computer organizing data.

I titled this lilacs becasue there are so many lilacs in bloom. I have been stopping to smell them as I make my way across campus and on the walks I take back and forth from where ever I am.

Lilacs along with lilly of the valley are two flowers, the smell of which can take me back to my childhood. In the backyard of the house on 14th street where I first lived, lilly of the valley grew along the basement wall of the house next door. The house next door was the boundry for the side and rear entrance of our house, so I could go out the door, down the steps and there in front of me was a row of lilly of the valley. Not til I was much older did I find out that this particular flower can be poisonous if eaten by a child. I used to sit on the sidewalk and play in the dirt where the flowers grew. I often picked the blooms to smell and sometimes take into my mother.

In the backy yard of the house was a workshed where my father and grandfather stored their tools. Between the shed and the yard of the house on the other side of our house grew two big, old lilac bushes, one purple and one white. The bushes were old enough and sturdy enough that I could use them to climb and get on the roof of the shed (not allowed but a great place to climb to neveertheless) there I could reach out and collect big bunches of the lilacs, thus the memories that take me back.