The Pink Dress

When I was in Grade 9 I stumbled on the book “The Pink Dress” by Anne Alexander and simply fell in love with the story.  It was one of my first teenage books from “modern” times (it was published in 1959) and the story was relatable to the current drama of a 14 year old.  In a nutshell good girl meets wild boy, rival girlfriend, The Crowd, shoplifting, vandalism and happy ending.  Flash forward some 20 odd years and I found myself wanting to read the book again so I began searching for it in used book stores to no avail.  More time passed and I forgot about it.

Wandering through my bookshelves and searching for free books on Kindle I thought “well, why not see if the book is available on Kindle”.  To my delight it was available but the cost was $9.99.  Silly me I threw caution to the wind and decided to buy it.  I shouldn’t say “silly me” because I dove into the book right away and gobbled it up in record time.  All these years later I find the book is still very current and relevant today.  Teenagers are still trying to fit in, have a boyfriend and at the same time make good choices.  It is an enjoyable read and the morality is valid as much today as it ever was. 

When I go to the teen or young adult section at the book store I am quite disturbed by how violent many of the book covers are and it is very worrying that so many of the books deal with violence, bad behavior and vampires or other supernatural creatures.  A little of that goes a long way in my opinion.

This morning I saw an article online about a Wisconsin school board having to back down from reading a book about a transgender because some parents got upset.  You really have to wonder about people being such ostriches; it’s okay for children to read about all kinds of wicked things but to actually learn about something real and relevant today is a bad thing? News flash, learning about a transgender person is not going to automatically affect your child with the same feelings.

Sometimes there is no understanding people.

Reflections on Wisdom

In this past week we have heard a lot of reactionary views on the tragedy that happened in Paris on November 13^th.  People are upset and in the heat of the moment they lash out with first impulses.  But after that initial burst of vengeful or retaliatory feelings we should cool down and think about who we really are.

I cannot speak for other people but I can say that I have spent this week thinking a great deal, listening to so much on media until I got a little overwhelmed so I shut out the noise and started listening to myself.  I think this is the lesson that I learned; turn off the news rather than be drawn into it so I don’t hear the same things or see the same pictures over and over again until I am whipped into a frenzy of violent emotion.  I need distance so I can hear my own thoughts and understand where my values really lie.

At the end of the day I feel like I want to be a good, compassionate person and that means I cannot shut the door in someone’s face.  This week in both my theological reading and my meditation I was moved to do some additional reflection on God.  I was walking on the treadmill and trying to come to grips with the idea of God as a Being.  As part of the meditation we are working on 4 core beliefs – I am loving & loved, I am worthy, I am safe & trusting, I am whole & fulfilled.  So far so good, I can understand these beliefs and agree with them.  From there I thought “the vast majority of people are good people, they want these same core beliefs to be the reality of their lives”.  Again, so far so good.  Now here is something I cannot explain but for as long as I can remember my strongest belief is that good will always, ALWAYS, triumph over evil.  I may not have one hundred percent belief in God but I do have one hundred percent belief in Goodness.

So if this is true, and I believe it is, then most people are good.  So why should I be afraid of them?  The greatest wisdom of the world errs on the side of goodness, fairness, compassion and peace.  I’m on the side of that wisdom.

 

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Personal Story No. 3 - My First Family Vacation

For years I used to complain to my dad that he had taken the boys on vacation and I had never had one, ever.  As I got older I may have reduced the amount of times I hinted at my impoverished childhood lacking a vacation but one day to my incredible surprise Dad said he would take me on a one day vacation.  Really?  What would this entail?

I had already graduated from university and we were living in Calgary at the time when Dad decided that we should go on a vacation.  At the last minute my middle brother was invited along on the road trip.  We drove south, we just kept on going and as I was completely illiterate on possible destinations I paid no attention to where we were going.  At some point we must have turned westward because suddenly we were in hilly, tree lined areas.  We began to notice signs that read “Texas gate ahead” but we never saw any gates so wondered out loud how old the signs were.  Once we came upon a sign that said “Pekisko” which was supposed to be a village.  There were exactly three buildings there, a church, a house and what was once a post office.  It was a genuine ghost town.

Eventually we came to “Cartwright’s Ranch” which turned out to be of some historical interest as it used to be owned by the Prince of Wales (a.k.a. Edward VIII) back around 1920.  We ended up eating our lunch there on a stone picnic table that was nestled under a huge tree.  We didn’t know if we were trespassing or not but there was not a soul around so we enjoyed ourselves.  Once lunch was eaten we headed back to Calgary by way of back country roads (I think my dad was lost).

Today I know this area like the back of my hand as we were in the Nanton, Okotoks, Turner Valley area but back then it was just “country”.  Little did I know that my “vacation” would turn into a “vocation” in only a couple of years.

Personal Story No. 2 - Heckle Island

As I got older I must have told my father about my composition agony.  I don’t know what got into him but when we moved to Winnipeg one summer my dad actually decided he was going to take his sons on a vacation.  My sister and I were in our mid teens and of course the youngest was still a baby but the 3 boys were just the right age for going on a camping trip.  Never mind that my father had never camped in his life or that he did not have any camping gear.  As was usual with him he would improvise; he brought two huge Polish sausage along as supplies.

Where did he decided to go?  He knew a man who knew a man who had gone to this great island called Heckle Island and that is where they went.  Until I started writing this story I actually thought that was what the place was called but apparently its true name is Hecla Island which is part of Hecla Grindstone Provincial Park.  The first day they only managed to get to some little place called Riverton where they stayed in a cabin.  The next day they reached the island.  Back in the day I don’t think there was much there, at least not accordingly to the sagas of my three brothers.  They met a fisherman who, for the price of one of the Polish sausages, gave them a "ride" on his fishing boat (still cabled to the dock).

More exciting for the two younger boys, who would have been about 8 and 10 at the time, were the trees.  Dead trees.  As they walked in the woods Dad accidentally leaned against a tree and it keeled right over.  The boys got excited at how strong Dad was.  The next thing they knew they were all knocking down trees, boom, boom, boom.  They had got into a dead zone of some type.  Erik got over excited and rammed into a live tree, barely retaining consciousness.  I can just imagine them knocking everything down as we were all a very active bunch of kids.

Dad found a cabin for them to stay in which turned out to be a good thing because it turned very cold that night.  It was supplied with an outhouse but as there had not been anyone on the island for 3 or 4 years it was quite the experience to go to the toilet.  When "fresh fodder" whizzed down the pipe a million flies went "whoopee" and flew up the pipe right into their you know what's!  As John said it was the quickest in and out procedure of his life.

Aside from the sausages they hadn’t brought any food with them so the next morning they drove into the village, found a café and had breakfast.  And that was enough for Dad.  They decided to go home.

Their bonding vacation lasted a day and a half.

Personal Story #1 Compositions

I have mentioned in the past that our family was not particularly well off when I was growing up.  One of the most noticeable things in my young mind that I found where I was different from my friends was my summer vacation.  Do you remember how you always had to write a “What I did on my summer vacation” story when you got into your new grade?  It was always the first “composition” we had to do and I used to agonize over it from the second year onwards because in my first year I was amazed to hear my classmates tell tales of “going away” on their vacation.  Going away?  Are you kidding me?  Some of the kids went camping with their family which wasn’t too strange but many of them went driving, far, far away, and stayed away for a week or two and sometimes more.  I couldn’t imagine.

The most exciting thing we ever did on vacation was when my mother decided to pack us a picnic lunch and told us to go find a place to have a picnic (and stay away all day).  Woot, woot.  We were on that like a tick on a deer.  She would make us peanut butter and jam sandwiches, sometimes change it up and make peanut butter and cinnamon spread sandwiches.  We’d have Freshie (the cheap version of Kool-aide) and maybe some cookies or fruit as an extra treat.  She’d give us a blanket which we could use as a fort (we lived in Ontario so we had plenty of trees to adventure through).  We also had a creek near by and of course we were forbidden to go there but we (naturally) forgot all about that and traipsed down there for our adventures.  We had every imaginable adventure, re-created from our favorite TV shows and most of the drama included screaming a lot, capturing someone and most exciting of all, torturing them.  We had a great time and always came home filthy and hungry at supper time.

That was our vacation, summer after summer.  Since I had class with the same kids year after year I didn’t know what to write about because I wasn’t creative enough to believe I could actually lie about what we did.  At this late date I have really no idea what I wrote but I do recall feelings of agony as soon as the words came out of the teacher’s mouth.

“Now, let’s start our composition class with writing about what you did this summer”. 

Cat Drama

There are rumours in the neighbourhood that we have a fox den which may explain the huge teeth marks in Cherie’s butt.  The poor little tyke had to go to the vet as the bite marks were starting to smell rather too much.  Thumper started growling at his brother and there were fights in the night and in the morning Cherie was hiding, shivering, in the bathroom.  Poor baby.  The vet thought it most likely that it was another cat, which I did myself until I saw how far apart the bite marks were . . . they looked very far apart for a cat.  So he said it was possible it could be a fox.  Oh, oh.  As you know I had read an article about foxes around a chicken house.  Foxes are sneaky little devils, they can monitor a chicken coop for weeks before they make a pounce.  While some of the hens are molting right now I still get palpitations when I see feathers in the chicken run.  So far so good.

It is so very true, nature is cruel but nature is true. 

Thumper and Cherie come from the same litter, they are brothers, but typical male cats they are not too appreciative of each other when it comes to sharing their mistress.  Thumper is bigger so he gets to sleep in the bed, he will hiss at his brother when he wants attention focused on himself but when I am gone they cuddle up together and have naps sprawled all over the bed.  They are none too happy when I try to squeeze in for a nap myself.

One of the best things mankind ever did was domestic cats and dogs.  What would we do without our pets?

Meditate or Vegetate

I’m happy to report that I have continued participating in the online meditation even though I had to play catch up when my system was down.  I’d like to share my experience with meditation.

At first I listened, closed my eyes at the correct time and tried to breathe deeply and keep my brain from wandering.  Some days were better than others.  On the fourth day I decided that while Oprah and Deepak spoke I would take a few notes so I could review them at the end of the meditation.  Then I closed my eyes, breathed, and wandered.  That experiment did not go very well as I seemed to wander more after taking the notes.  So I went back to my original practice and found that I could stay focused longer.

These practices are about 18 minutes long which may seem intimidating at first.  I reminded myself that I didn’t have anything better to do so just to sit tight and do it.  So all of this part is going find.

However, as long as I am staying at home I can think about the theme throughout the day but if I leave the house I generally find myself straying from a mellow frame of mind, particularly if I am driving any distance.  The good thing is that I can pull my mind back from the abyss before I get too caught up in negative thoughts.  So there is improvement there but not as much as one would like.

On the other hand, one shouldn’t be such a jelly fish of good will that we can’t honk our horn when someone literally cuts us off and drives us into the ditch.  There is reason in all things.  Happily I am alive to tell the tale!

 

Offline Drama

While I was away yesterday we had not only a power outage but a satellite crash and today I am dealing with the fallout.  One would think I was talking about a missile strike but for anyone who is technically illiterate insofar as computer problems occur you will know how I feel.  It is a really sad state of affairs when we are so dependent on being connected with the universe and I am not talking about our Holy Father.

The good news about being unconnected is that those hours spent on email and social media (not to mention Internet Surfing) can be spent more profitably in actually writing.  Or so one hopes.

While looking through all my CDs to upload my computer repair I discovered my old photographs and negatives which I had forgotten all about.  It’s fortunate that I had put them deep in my desk as they were saved from the roof leaking last summer when we did the repair on the south side of the house.  I did find some collector stamps that were destroyed so I am very grateful that the negatives have all been saved.  Not only do I have all my own negatives from 50 years of photography but I also have my parents’ negatives.  Whew, my siblings won’t kill me.

This is an example of what happens to me when I am trying to settle down to “what I’m supposed to be doing”, I find myself sidetracked by oddities.  When I’m supposed to be writing I will research my statement (perhaps) and get sidelined online.  When digging for repair stuff I find nostalgia.  When I am purging I think “oh, well, I might just need that some day when there’s a war”.  But this last self-talk has been quashed and I have bravely thrown out “junk”.  Yes, it is junk.  There, I said it, junk.

So we went from the drama of online disconnect to junk.  Oh how the mighty brain does wander!

Another Kind of Remembrance

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.  George Santayana

Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding.  Albert Einstein

When the power of love overcomes the love of power the world will know peace.  Jimi Hendrix

Better than a thousand hollow words is one word that brings peace.  Buddha

Lord make me an instrument of thy peace.  Where there is hatred, let me sow love.  Francis of Assisi

Peace begins with a smile.  Mother Teresa

Pursue some path, however narrow and crooked, which you can walk with love and reverence.  Henry David Thoreau

While you are declaring peace with your lips make sure you have it even more fully in your heart. Francis of Assisi

Peace and friendship with all mankind is our wisest policy.  I wish we may be permitted to pursue it.  Thomas Jefferson

First keep peace with yourself, then you can also bring peace to others.  Thomas a Kempis

Imagine all the people living life in peace.  You can say I am a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.  I hope that someday you will join us, and the world will be as one.  John Lennon

 

Light Reading

Just to keep myself from going over the edge reading all that theology I picked something easy to read for bedtime.  I had loaded the Complete Works of Frances Hodgson Burnett to Kindle several months ago (it was free) and the other day I chose Emily Fox-Seton as my “light read”.  I should have known that the author of “The Secret Garden” and “A Little Princess” would not be easy reading.  After all, I have seen Shirley Temple made into a little waif in a dreary attic and seen Margaret O’Brien as Mary Lennox walled up in house of the Secret Garden.  Dark things lurk for Emily Fox-Seton and oh my goodness but I was so afraid she was going to get “drownded”.  Sometimes children and young adult books are more exciting to read than adult books.  I’m not sure why but they seem to create higher suspense levels or maybe the characters are just so much more engaging that you care more about them. 

When I wonder the shelves at the book store I rarely find a book that truly catches my attention.  The covers all look very attractive but I don’t recognize the author’s name.  A title may sound intriguing, I will pick it up and read the cover synopses and usually I put the book back.  If it does sound interesting I will look at the first page and almost always I put the book down after reading a couple of sentences.  I can always tell. 

I enjoyed my book club because we were challenged to read books that others recommended and so I was introduced to new authors who have become favorites.  Another way I “discover” books is by watching the movie first (I know, I sound like a total helot.  Back when I was younger I would shudder when anyone said such an infamous thing!)  I read book reviews and sometimes that will get me to buy a book.  And a shocking confession, if Oprah recommends it I almost always will avoid it as I find her taste in books very depressing.  I have a lot of respect for Oprah but we do not share the same taste in books.  I can only read so many books on dying cancer patients and sexually abused people.

Back to Frances Hodgson Burnett’s books.  At the time when she wrote (circa 1880’s through 1920) the rags to riches style of story writing was extremely popular and most of her work is rather sentimental for today’s taste.  Despite the sentiment though the storylines are frequently quite suspenseful even though you know the outcome will always be “happily ever after”. 

Much better than what we get in Revelations but alas, back to my studies today.

Being Danish Canadian

I was brought to Canada when I was 4 years old.  We sailed from Odense, Denmark in 1957 and landed in Halifax from whence we took a train to Toronto.  I can actually remember the train ride and the hotel we stayed in for several weeks while my parents looked for a decent apartment.  As I’ve written before, they had some very rude surprise awaiting them in this country the first of which was finding a decent place to live in Toronto.

Now making that statement I can anticipate born Canadians may ruffle their feathers and make the remark “why didn’t you go back where you came from” to which I want to respond by simply slapping their faces.  Stupid response to a stupid question, I know.  However, as I cannot do that in a virtual environment (and of course I wouldn’t really do that “live”) I will say what I normally say “number one, they couldn’t afford to turn tail and run and number two, they came here to make a better life but the people who invited them here did not live up to their promises”.  

Why am I bringing this up today?  Here’s why, I want to express some gratitude as well as some concern. 

I am very grateful that I live in a safe country like Canada.  I was talking with my mother the other day about how it was when she first came over here and finally she said to me “you know, it was not easy, we had a lot of very hard times.  It was very, very hard.  Dad had a really good (top) job in Odense, we had a beautiful modern apartment, we had access to the best food and because your dad listened to those men from Canada Packers we came over here where he had to start from the ground up.  He was “maester" (equivalent to General Manager) in the most modern meat plant in Denmark to become a butcher again.  It was really hard on him (and on me).”  Mom had never talked like that before and I was deeply impressed with how silent she has been all these years about how tough they had it.  It was a terrible shock to not get the job he had been promised when he made the decision to sell everything and take 3 small children and a wife to a country where he knew absolutely no one.  I cannot imagine what courage it took for them to go and to stay.  When you came to Canada in 1957 you did it on your own, no aid whatsoever.

I’ve asked my dad many times what brought him to Canada and he said that he chose Canada over South Africa, Australia and the United States because it was the safest place, in his opinion, of any country in 1957.  He had lived through World War II in Occupied Denmark and he did not want to see that happen for his children.  When I was in Europe this summer I was very, very uneasy about the news blasting away morning, noon and night.  Since returning home I have slept badly and have a number of nightmares that has me waking up in a sweat.  I listen to the news, to the continued fighting in the Middle East, to the posturing by Russia and the United States, to plane crashes and migration crises.  I am stressed out and do not see a good outcome in the years ahead.  So I thank my parents for being survivors in immigrating to a country where we are relatively safe from harm and I thank Canada for being a safe haven for me and mine.

I was born Danish but I am a Canadian.

Henrietta's Performance Review

I sat the girls down yesterday and went over their performance review.  I praised them for being early producers and achieving optimal production in their first year.  I told them how friendly and attractive they are, admired by all comers.  But then I told them since they thought they now had seniority they were slacking off and that was just not acceptable.  They cocked their brown eyes at me, twisting their heads the better to see me and I could see their thought “she’s bluffing”.  They dusted up their feathers and walked away.  I spoke sternly “I am serious, the colonel is not that far away” but they kept on walking over to the other side of the run.

Hmm, now how do I get their performance back up.  The lights aren’t working, the cabbages aren’t working, the oyster shell isn’t working.  And today I discovered the problem.  The little beggars are eating their own eggs!

Well, now I am on the track of solving that problem.  I thought the oyster shell would curb any appetite they might have for their own eggs but apparently not.  So this morning I am searching for answers but so far, nothing helpful has popped up.

There’s always something!