An Uninvited Guest
The first time, Max and Gertrude invited us to their cottage on Gull Lake we were given the little cabin behind – rather above the larger cottage because they liked to treat first visitors to that special space. Secluded, built on a rock, this cabin was just a bedroom and a washroom. It was within sight of the main cottage, but afforded privacy. We were younger than our hosts and other guests, and therefore our bedtime was later. I suspect it was for their comfort, not just ours, that this was the arrangement. The view from up there of the Lake and the islands was quite beautiful and the...
Read MoreThings We Miss.
Nostalgia. I love looking back. I remember the patterns on my Grandmother’s dishes, sometimes I see a cup and saucer just like that in an antique store, I never purchase them, somehow just looking and enjoying the mental scene they evoke is enough. There was a wooden clock on her sideboard that donged out each hour. A garden of flowers , beans, and potatoes. The colors in her front room, and her massive fern plant sitting on a table. I often watched her cook and bake and that was where I learned nearly everything I know about cooking, and especially about waiting ’til...
Read MoreMother’s Day
Olivia sat, staring into space, smiling, while her children charged around above her, yelling at the tops of their voices. She remembered acting just like that. Her own childhood wasn’t so far in the past, that she had forgotten the joy of weekends – no school, no schedule, no need to be quiet. Eight-year old Bonnie and six-year old John were good students. She had never had a call from the principal except, of course, that once. She remembered her own mother saying that it wasn’t when the children screamed or cried that you needed to worry; it was when they went quiet. Like now....
Read MoreMystic Mountain
It was not April Fool’s Day. Nor was I the victim of someone’s cruel joke. Yet there is no explanation for what happened on that July 13th in 1977. I was in my thirtieth year. I had travelled some by then and was familiar with various lifestyles, various human foibles, wisdom and stupidity, yet nothing in my life to date had prepared me for what I encountered on that walk up the side of Mystic Mountain. Mystic Mountain was on the outskirts of the village where we had recently settled; a quiet rural setting with clean water, clear skies, fresh air, lots of nature to explore. On this rare...
Read MoreThe Cable Company.
I popped down to the local cable company for a chat. After standing for a customer service person for five minutes, aggravating my seized up right knee, I was called. “I’d like to talk about my PVR,” I said, hoping that didn’t sound too personal. The lady sat bolt upright in her computer chair. She was very neat – clothes, hair, desk. She wore blue framed glasses behind which were matching bright blue cold eyes that said – don’t mess with me lady. Her thin cupid bow mouth was painted a dull red. I said very politely. “I’ve paid $15 monthly...
Read MoreJust a Fling
If not for his eyelashes, the problem would never have arisen. But there they were, long, feathery, dark; framing eyes so brown, they looked black. He ordered coffee and paid the barista. Ruth watched him out of the corner of her eye while she pretended to eye the baked goods. When he walked away, she actually turned to watch, earning a dirty look from the woman behind her. She was tempted to say “Seriously? You aren’t watching him too?” The barista gave her a grin that said she understood completely. Coffee in hand, Ruth sidled over to the table beside his. They faced each other. He...
Read MoreThe Glass Blower
I do not know where my mother’s ashes are entombed. I could not lead you there. I like to think she isn’t there either, that she could not be trapped like that in unforgiving marble and polished glass and gold. That was not the way of my mother in life. I doubt somehow that death could hold her down. All through my own long years, I melted sand to make glass that sang like crystalline roses, on a journey custom-made for me, and I never questioned why. Now, as old age bends my bones, as fire and smoke take the sight from my eyes, sand rushes through my fingers, miniature boulders turning...
Read MoreMEDITATION
The following piece comes from a 20 minute writing exercise in our Thursday writing group. Sometimes I have to tear myself away from the hustle and bustle of my busy life to attend the group. Often my effort is rewarded by some self discovery that I may have missed had I not overcome my resistance to leave the hectic pace behind. This exercise was one of those times for which I am grateful to have made the effort to be present. Meditation does not come easily to me. This busy life tends to bring on the monkey brain that chatters away incessantly, either planning something or reviewing and...
Read MoreCongratulations Chris Beryl !!!
Your poem was selected to represent the Chemainus library for Vancouver Island Regional Library’s poetry anthology 150 X 39. The goal of our anthology is to celebrate Canada 150 by capturing the character and flavour of the communities we serve through poems like yours. The anthology will be printed and released at our launch party at the Harboufront Library on Saturday December 2 from 11am. You will receive a copy of the anthology (either at the launch or mailed to your home branch if you are unable to attend in person) and your poem will be displayed in your local branch. Can you...
Read MoreThe Word Cancer Creates Fear
So much had happened in a short time and I want others to understand why it’s important to have a mammogram. I knew I was going to be okay but the word “cancer” instigates fear. Everyone is different in processing their thoughts and I have an emotional personality so I knew I had to have courage and discover a better me after cancer. A couple of weeks before my diagnosis, I was watching “The Doctors” talk about the importance of having a mammogram, no matter how old they are. In the back of my mind I remembered thinking. “It’s been awhile, so maybe I should go for one....
Read MoreAging.
Aging is one of the most thought about topics in the world. Every nation has proud centurions, usually quite willing to give their own personal hints on how they managed to live so long. Whisky and cigars have even been credited on occasion. That they survived at all has got to be a fluke of nature, still we sometimes see them on TV, wrinkled-up, but still smoking. These are the exceptional. Most of us go into a slow decline, fighting all the way with exercise, meds. and diet, trying to last as long as possible, hoping desperately our brain cells will hold up. Asking a little...
Read MoreShe opened the lid, peered inside.
“Where did you find this, Lydia?” I asked. “It was in the garden. I was digging a hole for the new lilac bush, over by the kitchen fence, when I hit something hard with the shovel. I thought it was a rock and tried to pry it out but then when I cleared some more dirt off it, I saw it was a box.” “Well, it’s been there an awful long time then, because we’ve lived here for twelve years now.” Lydia cleaned the box some more and saw there was tiny padlock still in place. “I don’t want to damage anything, how can I get that...
Read MoreStriking It Rich….
Clara agreed to visit his claim, the one he’d been digging for years. Fancy meeting after all this time. She hadn’t changed much, wore her hair shorter, but had that same gorgeous smile. If he wasn’t careful he’d fall in love all over again. And she might too, if he struck it rich. If he kept at the digging. Jack lifted another shovelful and threw the rocks, crashing into the wagon. One more and he’d be ready to ‘wash it’. “Why don’t you just give it up, Jack? This place is done for. I found all the gold.” Old Henry, his neighbour, had struck gold a long time ago and...
Read MoreFighting The Stigma.
Adele was called into the Principal’s office to discuss her twelfth grade son. She was not surprised. He had been in two fights and had been acting strange. She supposed he would be expelled if his behavior did not improve. Deep down Adele feared there was another problem, but she chose not to acknowledge it. After all, he was just a teenager, sometimes teenagers had problems. The meeting went badly. They discussed the fighting. Adele defended her son. Why blame him for everything, did he start it? The Principal appeared to be trying to get something else across, she did not want to hear...
Read MoreCanadians stand on guard !!!
In light of all the discussions around Canada opening her doors to refugees and in this year of celebration of Canada’s 150th anniversary, I submit this small memoir piece of my own experience of being a refugee. In 1957 after the Hungarian Revolution I escaped with my parents, spending 6 months in Refugee camps in what was then Yugoslavia, arriving in Canada on July 1st of that year. Five years later, also on July 1st, then known as Dominion Day, I was so proud to be accepted as citizen of this wonderful country. This year I celebrate Canada Day with gratitude for this beautiful...
Read MoreThe Man Who Couldn’t Smile
He looked like a mischievous little gnome standing at my office door with his twinkling eyes. His short physique accentuated his balding head. He had the most incredibly small and crooked hands I had ever seen. The other outstanding feature about him was the lack of expression on his face. You see, Don couldn’t smile. I found him to be a dynamic seventy-two-year-old man. His philosophy was that “age had nothing to do with happiness”. He just wanted to make the most out of the rest of his life. He hoped I could find him someone to love. Don didn’t believe he had a disability, but...
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