65 is a good driving speed...

My nephew Jeff sent me this message for my birthday and I love the sentiment. I “facebooked” him back to let him know that I’d be borrowing his line a great deal this year. So here I am, 65-years-old and still driving: driving metaphorically through my life and, in reality, driving around the North American continent. 65 is a good driving speed, indeed!

My original plan was for Sandra and I to leave tomorrow for our leisurely drive to Florida but on Saturday Sandra’s 90-year-old mother Alice collapsed on her kitchen floor. Alice still lives alone and on Saturdays she cooks a noon meal to share with her two daughters, Sandra and her sister Heather. Last Saturday, Sandra was taking the chicken out of the oven when her mother said, “Sandra, I’m going to faint!” This was followed by a heavy thud as she hit the floor.

Sandra dialed 911 and Alice was whisked off to the hospital where it was later determined that she needs a pacemaker. The doctors have told the family that she is still able enough to return home once the pacemaker is in place. The only caveat is that someone should be with her for the first couple of days.

Alice gets her pacemaker today so our leave date is now set for Friday to allow Sandra to spend those first couple of days with her mother. Then her sister and brother will take over.

###

I am ignoring the falling stock market today and concentrating on the concert I’m going to tonight: just Elton John and his piano for two and a half hours in a stadium that holds slightly over 7000 people. It should be wonderful.

Okay, who can really ignore the stock market news of the last few days? I have really mixed feelings about the plunging stock market. Part of me cringes as I watch my life savings waste away, part of me thinks that maybe a major crash/depression is needed to wake us up to different possibilities for repairing the economic inequities that are solidifying in our society.

There is certainly room for major improvement in our current economic system, in the way we distribute the riches we have been graciously blessed with in this part of the world. There is something profoundly wrong when the gap between the rich and poor keeps growing, when families live on the streets of our richest cities.

Perhaps if more of us were hungry we’d be motivated to find a food distribution that would allow food to reach all of the people in the world. Do we really need the incredible array of choices in our supermarkets when so many people in the world are starving? Do we really need to spend our energy developing an industry around bottling water when we have safe tap water – and 30,000 people a day die of waterborne diseases in other parts of the world?

Could it be that we need to have our way of life reduced to survival mode in order to realize that no one life is more important than another? Perhaps we need to use our intelligence and education to figure out a more equitable way to share the world’s resources rather than worrying about how to preserve a system that isn’t serving the majority of the world's people well.

This morning I’m writing this in my campervan, Bessie the Bus. When I look out Bessie’s window I see a gorgeous 50-year-old maple tree that has begun to show off its fall colours: orange, red and yellow mixed with a few branches of defiant green. When the vagaries of world politics and economics tug at my heart, this is where I retreat: into the glorious arms of nature’s beauty.

I’m leaving for Florida on October 1st…I’ll be going to Newfoundland next year – with my sister Shirley. I was going to fly over, rent a car and spend a few days. But after some recalculating of my expenses and, more importantly, the opportunity to travel with Shirley, I’ve decided to wait. So it’s nine provinces this year and I’m getting close to begin counting states.

My friend Sandra is joining me for this leg of the trip. She’ll fly back from Orlando on October 30; I’ll fly back to Calgary on Nov. 4 and stay there until Dec. 11 when I’ll fly back to Orlando. I have no idea what I’ll be doing at Christmas yet other than go to church. This Christmas will be about the real Christmas and I’m looking forward to celebrating it that way. I’ll have a family dinner and celebration th Leslie, Todd and the girls early in December before I leave Calgary.

I’ve been back to PEI with my sister Nancy but mostly I’ve been enjoying two weeks of living in a real house and driving a car instead of a van as I’ve been house sitting for my sister Shirley and her husband Dave while they’ve been on vacation.

The weather here has begun to showcase a lovely eastern fall. The clouds and fog have departed in favour of warm sunny days; crisp, clear air and cool nights. This morning I sat up in bed and turned up the thermostat to dispel the morning chill. A few trees have begun to turn colour: lovely maple reds, oranges and a bit of yellow. In a few weeks the hills will don their full fall coat, a truly wondrous sight.

I’ve started reading a book on neuroplasticity, the ability of the brain to change and heal itself. I wonder if there will be anything there to help Mum who has lost her mobility and is now confined to a wheelchair. Or for the rest of us as we age.

Update on Holly

I have been amazed at how much I miss Holly on this trip. I know she is safe and well-loved, and that this trip would have been impossible if I had to bring her along. But I think of her often and still miss her a lot.

So the other day I called Donna and Chris to see how she was doing. I got a glowing report this time. Holly, it seems, has settled into adult doghood and has left her annoying puppy habits behind.

Holly was a “bolter.” If she saw a place she’d rather be, she’d bolt , taking off at a full run - and stay as long as she pleased. No amount of calling or bribing could get her to return before she was ready. And there was no way you could keep up with her.

She took off on me several times and she had done this to Donna as well. No more, says Donna. “We hardly put a leash on her now. She’s even figured out which of the neighbours will welcome her and which ones to avoid.” Mmmm, I thought. Very interesting.

Next I was told that she no longer is so food centered. She no longer sneaks into the kitchen, nose in the air, checking for unguarded food on the counter. Nope, not Holly, who was previously known to eat anything that resembled food that was left within her reach. Donna told me that she makes Holly’s food now. Once a month, Donna boils up brown rice, lean ground beef, grated carrots and other healthy morsels for Holly’s breakfast and dinner. Maybe this food is more satisfying for her. At any rate, Donna and Chris no longer have to make certain that anything remotely edible is carefully and quickly hidden away. That must be real freedom.

But the real news is that Holly is still working at some of the local hospitals. She is now working with children. Donna takes her to the ward where the sexually abused children stay. Donna says she can feel the oppression when she enters the ward – but Holly just goes in, climbs up on a bed and snuggles – and those terribly abused little children respond to her. They hug Holly and talk to her when human contact is still beyond their reach. One of the nurses stopped Donna as she and Holly were leaving one day and said, “If only you knew how much good you do by bringing Holly here….

So while I still miss her, I have to acknowledge again that Holly is where she is meant to be. God bless her – and Donna and Chris.

You can go home again....

I finished the book Travels with Farley by Clare Mowat a few weeks ago. The book is a memoir and covers the time they lived on the Magdalen Islands in the 1970s. As I read I wondered how she could remember each day with such clarity particularly such details as the weather, temperature and the type of bread she backed. Part way through the book she stated that she had taken over the journaling from Farley; now it was she who was recording the details of their daily lives. So I pulled out a day timer that I brought with me and began to record the details of my days in the event that someday I might expand this blog into a memoir.

The day timer is an unassuming black book with a full page devoted to each day. At the top you can circle a little box with weather symbols in it and add the temperature. There’s a box for your daily priority that I’ve been using to write in the day of the week. My life is not being driven by ‘priorities’ these days!

I thought I’d list my activities for a couple of days to give you a sense of what it’s like to be living in Saint John this summer. And then I’ll talk about my trip to PEI.

Thursday, Aug. 21

· Sunny, 25C
· Hung out with my sister Shirley. She works three days a week now and takes Thursdays and Fridays off. Her husband was away so we had some lovely ‘sister’ time.
· Went out to Shirley’s daughter’s for a quick visit and played with Shirley’s little granddaughter. (McKenzie, almost one)
· Went to visit Mum. Took her out to the central courtyard gardens at the Villa.
· Had supper at Boston Pizza. (Small individual pizzas loaded with feta cheese.)
· Went to see Momma Mia. (OK, so Pierce Brosnan can’t sing but he’s nice to look at.)

Friday, Aug. 22

· Sunny, 25 C
· Took Shirley to catch the ferry to Digby where she was meeting her husband, Dave and attending Dave’s nephew’s wedding.
· Went back to Shirley’s and went back to bed!
· Went to Walmart. Bought a twin air mattress, small ironing board that can be stowed in the van and some bio oil that my cousin Barb swears will reduce the wrinkles on your face!
· Drove up the Saint John river after lunch and spent the afternoon with my long-time friend and maid-of-honour, Judy. Judy oozes creativity: she is an accomplished painter, sews, knits, crochets, cooks, can strip down a car engine and wield a hammer like a journeyman carpenter. I am in awe of her many talents.
· Visited Mum. Went through the book Sails of Fundy with her and we checked off all the ships that were built by the Suthergreens in Advocate Harbour


And then there is PEI. There is a reason it is called the Garden of the Gulf: it is green and luscious and, for the most part, manicured. Even modest homes are surrounded by a riot of colourful gardens.

I drove over the Confederation Bridge and the van was high enough that I could look out over the sides of the bridge and see water stretching off to the horizon on both sides. It takes about ten minutes to drive across the bridge and I drove along with a big smile plastered on my face. I have crossed this bridge before but you can’t see over the concrete abutments when you are seated in a car so this crossing was special.

I meandered across the island on highway 13 to Cavendish. I have always loved the town of Hunter River and was delighted to see that it hadn’t changed since I was last there about ten years ago. I spent the night in Cavendish in a KOA campground.

The first time I camped at Cavendish, I slept in a tent in a field. I don’t remember that there were any real campgrounds there then. That was in 1972, the year that Leslie got lost on Cavendish beach. I remember the terror and panic I felt then as if it were yesterday. She was just seven and had taken the wrong path coming back from the bathroom. The paths ran among the dunes and they must have looked all the same to a seven-year-old. Today there are boardwalks to walk on to save the dunes and most of the area is a national park. I’m glad I was able to experience the magnificence of this part of the country while it was less endangered by human beings.

I had lunch in North Rustico. Lobster, of course. When I was there ten years ago I was with my mother, my Uncle Phil and Aunt Jean. They were all lively and engaging then. Uncle Phil, the last of my father’s brothers, died several years ago. Aunt Jean and Mum are both in nursing homes in various stages of dementia. Old age is not for the faint of heart.

The highlight of my PEI trip was a night at the Confederation Arts Centre to see the British Invasion: America Strikes Back. I had seen the first installment of this high-energy musical production in Calgary about four years ago and met my nephew Jeff’s father, Terry Hatty, for the first time. That’s another whole story. Terry is one of the featured performers in this production too and I met him after the show. (I hung out at the stage door until he was ready to leave!) We had a nice but short visit.

The next day I stopped in Victoria Harbour for lunch at the Orient Hotel and Tea Room. (yes, there is an Orient Hotel in Victoria Harbour, honest!) Victoria Harbour is a beautiful little town on the seacoast. If you ever go there, be sure to have lunch at the Hotel and have the sticky date pudding with caramel sauce for dessert. – it is worth every calorie!

I stopped at two Hamptons on the way home, one in PEI where I went to an antique shop, the other in NB where I visited for a couple of hours with my aunt and uncle, Marilyn and Jim McKenzie. Jim is the prime genealogist in the family and I had picked up a copy of the Sails of Fundy for him, too. And he was delighted to get it.

So there you have it, life in the Maritimes. Who says you can’t go home again?

My Ancestral Home

If you are ever in Parrsboro, Nova Scotia, be sure to have a meal at the Bare Bones Bistro. After a long afternoon of driving in pouring rain, I arrived in Parrsboro just in time for supper. I picked the Bistro randomly – and I lucked out! The special was Atlantic salmon in a maple reduction but I’d eaten salmon just a few days ago and I opted for a Caesar salad followed by vegetable pasta served in a creamy garlic and parmesan sauce. I was given some delightful, warm Italian bread and olive oil/balsamic vinegar dipping sauce to start. I treated myself to a glass of white wine (New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc). The wonderful flavours –and wine - wiped the tension from my shoulders.

I arrived in Parrsboro by accident. I was trying to get to Advocate Harbour to spend the night where my Swedish ancestors settled in the early 1800s. Somehow I missed exit 4 on Hwy 104 and ended up taking exit 5 into Springhill. Rather than backtrack, I decided to drive through Springhill (a depressing little town despite the fact that Anne Murray was born there) and on to Parrsboro for the night.

I’ve been to Parrsboro several times before and it is a beautiful town with leafy streets and big, white, historic homes. My mother told me that in the 1800s the wives of sea captains often sailed around the world with their husbands. Their children came too and when they were old enough for school, they were boarded in Parrsboro for the school year. Widows of men who were lost at sea would support themselves and their families by boarding these children.

My great grandmother Sarah Jane Suthergreen sailed with her sea captain husband Bryson Knowlton but she was always sea sick! When my grandmother, her sister and brother were born, Sarah Jane stayed ashore with her children. She and Bryson decided that they should move to Saint John where they felt their children would receive a better education. The family was living there when Bryson was washed overboard during a storm and eventually his body washed up on Block Island off the New England Coast. There is a family legend that tells how Sarah Jane was awakened in the middle of the night by the front door bell ringing on the night that he died. She told her children the next day that their father had died at sea. It was several days later when the telegram came confirming what Sarah Jane already knew.

Sunday morning was foggy but by 11 the fog was lifting and I headed to Advocate along a twisty stretch of road known locally as the little Cabot trail.

I stopped in Port Greville at the Heritage Age of Sail museum and bought two copies of Sails of Fundy by Stan Spicer. The book tells the history of shipbuilding along the Parrsboro shore and includes a list of all the ships built there including several by J. E. Suthergreen, my great, great grandfather.

I stopped briefly in Spencer’s Island and then drove out to the end of Cap d’Or on a road that didn’t exist the last time I was there. The view from there is magnificent and interpretive signs outline the history of a copper mine that was active there in the early 1900s.

Then it was on to the cemetery to find again the graves of the relatives who are buried there. I first visited the Advocate cemetery about 20 years ago with Mum. This cemetery sits high on a hill overlooking the town and the sea that figured so prominently their lives.

Mum took me around the Advocate area pointing out some of the old homes where our relatives had lived. She told me stories of our people who had lived and worked there. She was concerned that once she was gone no one would make the trek back to Advocate or keep the memories these people alive. I told her then that I would come back there, that she could tell me the stories and that I would pass them on. It is both an honour and a responsibility to carry these stories. These are some of the stories I share with my granddaughters over tea.

I left Advocate in late afternoon and drove to Fall River to my sister Nancy’s home. Yesterday it was warm and sunny and we just hung out in Nancy’s backyard at her swimming pool. Her backyard is gorgeous and her home welcoming and comfortable. Today it is overcast with thunder showers forecast for this afternoon. Our plan for today is to go antiquing.

Fredericton

Yesterday I went to Fredericton. I travelled up the scenic route meandering along the St. John River also known as the Rhine of North America. I made plenty of stops along the way: Oak Point, Gagetown, Oromocto. I poked in little craft shops. What would have taken an hour on the highway took me close to four hours. Oh, yes, I took a 20 minute nap in Oromocto after lunch. Ahhh, the joys of travelling in a mini house!

My first stop in Fredericton was Christ Church Cathedral. This Anglican Cathedral was built in 1853 and is one of the earliest and best examples of the nineteenth century revival of Gothic architecture. This Cathedral was the first new Cathedral built using the Gothic Revival style on British soil since the Norman conquest and the second built in the Anglican communion since the reformation.

I learned these and other interesting facts from my personal tour guide, the verger of the Cathedral who speaks with a deep American south accent and has the unlikely name of Hank Williams. (The verger in this case is the church official who is responsible for ensuring that the Cathedral is set up properly for the various services held there.) You can check out this wonderful Cathedral at: http://www.christchurchcathedral.com/

My next stop was Gallery 78 just down the street from the Cathedral. I stopped hoping to catch Drya Eaton, a local artist, who has a studio there. Drya’s parents, Bob and Jane, are long-time friends of mine dating back to the 1960s when we were neighbours in Moncton. Unfortunately Drya wasn't there but the curator did take me into her studio though and showed me a lot of her newer work.

But the most serendipitous event was walking into another studio and coming face-to-face with David McKay an artist whose work I’ve admired since the very early 1970s when I interviewed him for a TV show I hosted back then. I have seen his work in different galleries when I’ve been back home visiting but never run into David himself. We had lovely conversation and, if I had an extra $4,600.00, there is one picture of his, Ghost Canoes, that would be making the trip back home with me. Unfortunately I have to choose between that piece of art and gas for Bessie the Bus! You can see both Drya’s and David’s work at: http://www.gallery78.com/

My final stop in Fredericton was the Beaverbrook Art Gallery. I went specifically to see the Building New Brunswick exhibit by local architect John Leroux although the Beaverbrook also has many outstanding collections. Check out this gallery at:
http://www.beaverbrookartgallery.org/

The weather was sunny and I stopped a lovely supper before driving back to Saint John – on the highway this time. It was another one of those perfect summer days.

The Art of Tea

I don’t really remember when I first started drinking tea but I do remember that my mother brought me a cup of tea each morning when she woke me up to get ready for high school.

When I was engaged to be married, I received numerous china cups and saucers as shower gifts. It was common in the early 1960s to have a cup and saucer shower to ensure the new bride would have pretty china in which to serve tea.

When I was first married, Brian and I lived in a small apartment that was heated by a stove in the kitchen that burned both oil and wood. I always had a pot of tea sitting on the back of the stove top keeping warm. When someone dropped in, I added a fresh tea bag and more water. Most of my friends and neighbours did the same. There was always time for a cuppa and a chat when someone appeared at your door.

Anytime there was a weighty decision to me made, a family crisis, or fatigue to be overcome, out came the tea pot. It’s the Maritime way.

I still start each morning with a cup of tea and some quiet time before breakfast each morning. And when someone arrives at my door they are always offered tea.

When Leslie moved out on her own, I lent her my good china tea cups and saucers to add some elegance to her first apartment. Several years later when she went into labour with her first daughter, she drank a cup of tea before heading to the hospital. She drank that last cup of tea before she became a mother from my personal favourite - a fluted china cup covered with roses.

Over the years, Leslie has collected a cups and saucers from her grandmothers and great-aunts as well. She also inherited a wonderful – and large – collection of cups and saucers from Todd’s grandmother. And when she moved into her current home, she bought two display cabinets to display her favourites.

Many years ago, I was browsing at an antique fair in Stony Plain just after my eldest daughter has settled in Toronto. I found eight lovely cups and saucers in Royal Albert’s Old Country Roses pattern, a pattern that she fancied at the time. So I bought them and sent them off to Toronto. We still drink tea from them when I visit.

Over the years I have rebuilt my own collection of cups and saucers. (Many of my original ones remain part of Leslie’s collection.) I have some special ones that I carefully packed and sent to Calgary after we dismantled Mum’s apartment when she moved into the nursing home. I have a couple that I found particularly pleasing and bought at estate sales. I have eight matching cups and saucers from my Noritake Tahoe dishes.

One also needs teapots and creamers and sugar bowls to go with cups and saucers. I have, of course, a variety of "regular" teapots for everyday use. I have the Noritake teapot, cream and sugar that came with my dishes. I have a silver teapot, cream and sugar that I bought at an antique shop because they match the Old English Reproduction silver tray that was a wedding gift to my mother from her new in-laws. I serve my tea on it now.

But the most precious teapot I own is a Wedgewood Queensware, blue with white embossing, that belonged to my paternal grandmother, Elizabeth Nobles Burnham. I brought that teapot, cream and sugar across the country on my knee when I flew back to Calgary from New Brunswick after Mum settled into the nursing home.

I have shared many cups of tea with friends, relatives and neighbours but the most special cups of tea I share now are the ones I now share with my four granddaughters.

I take out the china cups that were once my mothers and they each pick their favourite one. Now that I have my grandmother’s Wedgewood teapot, we most often use it. We sit at the dining room table and the conversation often turns to the women who drank tea together many years ago from the same cups and saucers. They are always interested to hear stories of grandmothers, great-grandmothers, great-great grandmothers and great-great-great grandmothers. And I am honoured to share the wisdom and strength of the generations of women who populate our family tree.

On Monday, August 4th, at Tim Isaac’s annual New Brunswick Day auction in St. Andrews, I made the winning bid on 22 pieces of Wedgewood Queensware, blue with white embossing.

I now have four place settings that match my grandmother’s tea set. I can hardly wait to sit down with my granddaughters and serve their sweet treats on plates that match their great-great-grandmother’s teapot. And maybe when they choose their favourite tea cup, one of them will chose to drink tea from a matching Wedgewood Queensware cup and saucer.