You are currently browsing the monthly archive for October 2007.
| Dad passed away last night. I am heading out the door to catch a flight to N.S. Lucca, I will call you on my brief stopover in Vancouver. |
All the years I was growing up, my dad had a routine he would follow each morning. It would involve drinking a cup of hot water, doing 100 push-ups and sit-ups, and standing on his head for 5-10 minutes. Then he’d eat a wholesome breakfast – usually All-Bran or Red River Cereal, followed by farm eggs, bacon that he’d had smoked himself, and mom’s whole wheat bread. Then he’d raid his vast collection of herbal supplements…he would send away to the States for them. Remember, this was at a time when, in rural N.S. anyway, most people hadn’t heard of herbal anything.
Yes, Dad always had great respect for his body and treated it well. And now it seems it’s paying off. Even though he’s been given no liquids since he was admitted to hospital on Sunday (no point in prolonging things since he’s brain dead and will never recover), his heart continues to strongly beat on its own and he continues to breathe on his own. The doctors are shaking their heads in amazement, since they figure he should have died three days ago.
While I wait to hear news from my brothers, I’ve been sorting through old photos, collecting some for the memorial service. Here are just a few. Sorry, some of them didn’t scan very well for some reason.
Mom and Dad on their wedding day
Me and my dad
Off on a road trip
Haying time on the farm
A Hunter S. Thompson look-alike| Today is my dad’s birthday. It might also be one of his last days here. He was eating his lunch today when he choked on a piece of food. Edna tried everything she could to dislodge it, but she was unsuccessful. By the time she called 911 and the ambulance came, he had been without oxygen for about 10 minutes.
He’s at the hospital, and is now breathing on his own (although it is laboured) and his heart is beating on its own. His brain, however, is not showing any sign of activity. The doctors say he won’t recover. So once again, far too soon after Susan’s passing, our family is on death watch. And I’m beating myself up for not phoning him this morning to wish him happy birthday…I was going to do that this afternoon. |
This morning as I was walking to the bus stop, I was joined by a friend. A fox scampered along beside me, clearly looking for me to supply breakfast. It was a beautiful animal with an animated face that showed curiosity, playfulness, caution and wistfulness. It stayed with me until the bus came, at which point it flattened its ears, obviously annoyed by the interruption.
There aren’t too many places left in the world where one could have such an encounter. It’s given a miraculous feel to my day.
~~~~~
I attended a community potluck dinner last night as part of Poverty and Homelessness Action Week. I was there to accept an award on behalf of the company I work for, which has pledged money and a van to try to get a food bank opened in the Yukon. A lot of street people were at the dinner, and their situation was brought home to me when I saw how much food they piled on their plates. Clearly for some, it was their first meal of the day, or perhaps their first meal in more than a day.
After dinner, I accepted the award. Later, the entire room stood up and took a pledge to do whatever we could to eliminate poverty in our community. Then, I got up, got into my ‘purchased new’ car, and drove to my warm home, passing on the way those street people who were going God knows where. I felt like such a hypocrite.
For the last couple of nights, we’ve had clear skies, which has provided the opportunity for some pretty amazing star gazing. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Venus has been incredibly bright lately, and even Saturn is making quite a show of it.
I’m not a regular star watcher, but displays like this can’t be ignored.
A short while ago we were having brunch with our neighbours, and the conversation turned to memories…our earliest memories to be precise. As we went around the table sharing these reminisces, I wondered what it was about these particular events that stuck in our minds ahead of all the other things we would have been doing/experiencing at that time in our lives. I still haven’t come up with a plausable explanation.
For me, my earliest memory involved my mom’s mother, who died when I was 3. We were at a fish farm in Nova Scotia, and I remember standing at the edge of the fish ponds with her. That’s it…I don’t recall what we talked about or whether we saw fish (we must have) or what she looked like. But I certainly remember her presence there and I remember it was a day that gave me a good feeling.
Jamie’s earliest memory is me playing a piece on the piano called “Fox Dance”. It was rhythmic and lively and as a toddler, he asked to hear it almost daily, dancing around the room as I played it. And again I ask myself, “Why that memory?”
For as long as I can remember, my Dad wanted to play the accordian. It was the first present I bought for him when I got my first job with CBC Radio. I remember the day I purchased it…marched right into Remenyi’s on Bloor Street West and told them I wanted the second hand Milano in the window. I knew nothing about accordians nor do I remember asking much about this particular one. It was black and shiny and Italian and I took them on their word when they said it was a good instrument in good working order.
Over the years, my Dad fiddled with it, although I can’t say he ever mastered it. This summer, when I went to visit him, I dug out that accordian (now gathering dust in my brother’s basement) and decided to bring it home with me. It’s sat beside my piano until this past week-end, when I was inspired to pull it out.
I have no way of knowing if it still works OK…I used to share a teaching space with a piano teacher who plays accordian, so I think I’ll get her t0 check it out. Who knows – if all goes well I may be oom-pa-pa-ing in time for next year’s Octoberfest!
It never fails: I am always caught off guard by how quickly the seasons change. Sunday started out as cold fall day. Grant it, most of the leaves had already fallen to the ground, and you could smell snow in the air, but it was still autumn. By the afternoon, shortly before we headed out to a friend’s house for Thanksgiving dinner, it started to snow. By Monday morning, autumn was no more…we were instead fully ensconced in winter.
The light on Monday morning was striking: greys, blues, yellows, mauves, and colours I don’t even have words for. If I were a painter, I would have been out there trying to capture the feel of it all. The Yukon has one the highest concentrations of artists in Canada and it’s on days like yesterday that I can fully understand why.
Lulu, you, your sketch pad and your paints must come for a visit!
A rescued mine worker emerges from Harmony Gold’s Elandsrand Mine in Carletonville, South Africa. Photo: Themba Hadebe/AP.
It never ceases to amaze me what one can find on the Internet. This morning I was thinking about the 3,000+ miners who were trapped in, and later rescued from, a mine in South Africa. That led me to remember one of Nova Scotia’s most famous mining disasters, which took place at the Cumberland Mine in Springhill in 1958 (Westray was of course to come much later).
For me, I first learned about the Cumberland mine accident from an elementary school teacher who taught history through song. To this day I still remember most of the lyrics. However I couldn’t remember them all, so to Google I went to do a search. Lo and behold, there they were.
Footnote: I also remember being shocked when our teacher told us the miners resorted to drinking their own urine when their water ran out. Drinking pee??? It was all too much for my 8-year old mind to comprehend.
SPRINGHILL MINE DISASTER
In the town of Springhill, Nova Scotia
Down in the dark of the Cumberland Mine
There’s blood on the coal and the miners lie
In the roads that never saw sun nor sky
In the roads that never saw sun nor sky
In the town of Springhill, you don’t sleep easy
Often the earth will tremble and roll
When the earth is restless, miners die
Bone and blood is the price of coal
Bone and blood is the price of coal
In the town of Springhill, Nova Scotia
Late in the year of fifty-eight
Day still comes and the sun still shines
But it’s dark as the grave in the Cumberland mine
But it’s dark as the grave in the Cumberland mine
Down at the coal face, miners working
Rattle of the belt and the cutter’s blade
Rumble of the rock and the walls closed round
The living and the dead men two miles down
The living and the dead men two miles down
Twelve men lay two miles from the pitshaft
Twelve men lay in the dark and sang
Long hot days in the miners tomb
It was three feet high and a hundred long
It was three feet high and a hundred long
Three days past and the lamps gave out
And Caleb Rushton got up and and said
There’s no more water, or light, or bread
So we’ll live on song and hope instead
So we’ll live on song and hope instead
So we’ll live on song and hope instead
Listen for the shouts of the barefaced miners
Listen thru the rubble for a rescue team
Listen thru the rubble for a rescue team
Six hundred feet of coal and slag
Hope imprisoned in a three foot seam
Hope imiprisoned in a three foot seam
Eight days passes and some were rescued
Leaving the dead to lie alone
Thru all their lives they dug their grave
Two miles of earth for a marking stone
Two miles of earth for a marking stone
Read this website to learn more (the same website from which came the above photo). Also, to find out more about who Caleb Rushton was, and another of the miners who was trapped underground, scroll down past this piece of music.
Interesting feature in this week’s Time Magazine.
