Thursday, January 29, 2009

I remember Number 3 wireless on a day when it was hot and muggy in the middle of summer and the prairie heat had no wind to cool it down.

The boy next door had been lowering my tolerance temperature a little at a time for weeks. He was smart, knew how to say things when there was an audience -- especially damaging things. His remarks were cutting, and hit their mark enough times so the recipient felt a pain that was hard to dismiss. He exercised his mouth to do damage and then ridiculed, making fun and sport of the victim. He enjoyed it way too much.

He was a rather good looking guy and quite sure of himself; in short he was a pain in the butt. His cruelty reached a saturation point with me when he made fun of my big feet. He used an old saying on me: "You're a poet and don't know it but your feet show it; they're Longfellows and smelled like the Dickens."

Everyone laughed and pointed to my feet. I left in anger and went for a long walk. I was gone for about an hour and half. On the way back I had to pass Wayne's apartment. I saw him sitting at the kitchen table and he saw me and began to laugh, pointing a finger at me in a mocking way.

Something snapped and I went right to his front door, opened it and walked into the kitchen and smacked him a good one. Then before he could gain his footing, I grabbed him by the collar and started pulling him outside. He was hollering and his family came running. By then he was outside and we were going at it. He gave as good as he got but the only difference was I had gotten in a surprise sock that left a welt and gave me an edge. There was some more scuffling and his dad grabbed me and him and held us apart. I wasn't saying anything and neither was Wayne. His dad first asked me if I was nuts coming into his house and hitting his son and then dragging him outside.

He wanted to know why and I just said: "Ask him." Wayne didn't say anything but his dad sure did. He told me to go home and he didn't ever want to see me try a stunt like that again.

Then he said to Wayne: "Finally someone had enough of your mouth. I warned you about your
spiteful nature a few months ago when Sheila's parents came over to talk to me. Maybe this will teach you a lesson."


I was limping and my mouth hurt and I had a black eye. I had caught Wayne by surprise but I knew he could best me in a fair fight but this time it wasn't fair.

I sometimes wonder in those early years where that grit came from. I couldn't punch my way out of a paper bag. I was tall and skinny for my age and not a lot of muscle but I think I inherited my Mother's temperament to get hit and get up again. Wayne and I stayed away from each other after that but never outgrew our dislike for each other.

Digby

The Sorrow and the joy

Number 3 wireless was about 48 families living in an old wireless training station that had been converted to apartments. The families were close knit in one respect. We all lived within a very short distance from each other and there were lots of kids and there was always something going on. It could be noisy at times and when you live that close there isn't much going on that we all didn't know about. We had a football area between the two H huts and played there until dark on the weekends. The football games were just the local kids and we chose up sides and played touch football. On one side of the field there was a handicapped guy who lived in an apartment right next to the field. He was cranky and bad tempered and often shouted at us kids from his wheel chair to shut up and go home. We ignored him but he would sit there watching us and kept saying rude things. One particular Saturday the ball was kicked over in his direction and he managed to get a hold of it. He had a pocket knife with him and punctured the ball. That ended the game real quick. He held up that flattened ball and laughed and threw it on the ground. One of the bigger kids started toward him but since he had a knife he thought better of it. Some of the kids' parents were soon over there but he had gone inside and wouldn't answer his door.
There were hard feelings and some of the parents bawled him out a few days later when they caught him outside. Still, him being handicapped meant that no one wanted to pursue the matter and it soon dropped. We kids were more careful after that and tried real hard to keep the ball away from his area. He persisted on being ornery and often jeered at us when we were playing. Someone got the bright idea of trying to find out about him. We soon discovered that he had been in an accident and suffered the loss of his two legs. He had a wife and two kids who definitely had to share his unhappiness. He was known around the apartment house as uncooperative and could be sullen and definitely unfriendly.
His wife was a very quiet woman and his two girls were shy and reserved with the rest of us. I can't remember all we found out but whatever it was painted a picture of a very difficult situation. We talked amongst ourselves and decided we would try to be helpful and nice to him.
We would shout greetings to him and try to talk to him. At first he wasn't having anything to do with it. We persisted and we would quit the football game a little early to appease him. We didn't go home but found other things to do. We found out he had a hard time getting in and out of his apartment as there was no ramp there. One of the kids talked to his dad who was skilled with his hands. Some lumber was found and we all helped him build a ramp from the sidewalk to the door entrance of the apartment. We convinced some of our mothers to bake a cake or some goodies and we took them over to him. It wasn't long before we were out playing and he was out watching us and shouting encouragement to us. We asked him to referee the game from where he was sitting and when he made a decision we didn't argue with him. One day when we all gathered to play football he called us over. There in his hands was a brand new football. He handed it over to us and said that's for the one I ruined. We all thanked him and started playing the game. He was refereeing and having as much fun as we were. His wife was smiling and the two girls looked happy. He was outside a lot when us kids were there and his whole attitude had changed. He moved a year later and told us kids we were worth saying goodbye to. He then had his wife and kids bring out some hot dogs and fixens along with some Kool aid to wash it down.
We missed him right off and for a few days we would look over where he used to sit and make comments about his absence and then, as kids will do, put our attention to other things

We may have lived on poverty row and our attitudes weren't always on straight but thank goodness we got it right with him. Some things are just right to do and should get done.

Digby

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

The Outhouse

In the early years of my life I lived on a street called Dunrobin, or was it Avenue. Whatever the case, I was only in grade two and all I know is Dunrobin came off a main street and we had the only house on the left side coming from town. I could look down the road and there was just a big field between our house and the main street. I remember vividly the way the house looked. It was two story and had a front porch that was big enough for a kid my age to hide under. I had a way of getting in and spent some time when I wanted to be alone, just sitting under there and thinking about things. It was different in those days for kids. The house we lived in did not have running water and when my mother washed on the weekend it was my job to haul water from a well that you had to have a key to turn on the water. It was of a good size and the well was a good thousand feet from the house. Many people used that well and I thought I used it more than most. My mother had fashioned a pole that went across my back and had notches in it to place two pails for carrying water. I looked like a Chinese coolie as I went back and forth to get water. Saturday was washing day and I couldn't play outside or do anything until the water was hauled for a portable bath tub for bathing and enough water to do the laundry and the household chores. There were two big barrels placed next to the house with lids on them to keep out any foreign objects and I dumped the water there. It seemed to me that as I went by the place where the other kids were playing baseball that I would never get enough water hauled but I did and it took most of the morning. Since we didn't have inside plumbing there was an outhouse next to our house and once a week a wagon with a great huge barrel and a hole on the top with a lid came by. We called it the honey bucket and held our noses every time the honey man emptied the outhouse hole. He pulled it with horses and they knew exactly where to stop as they had done it enough times. He got the stuff out with a long pole with a fixed bucket with which he could lift out the contents. I watched this with great fascination. He did not make a mess as the back of the outhouse had a door he could lift up and latch while he emptied the contents.
It was summer and I was enjoying the beautiful days and it was a relief from the bitter cold Manitoba was known for. As I looked out the window of the living room about eight oclock at night I could see something moving in the field. I watched carefully and whatever it was was crawling along and stopped to rest. I called my mother and said: "There is some sort of animal crawling out there in the field." She came and looked and said: "It is some kind of animal alright; it is your father and he is drunk." I knew what that meant for I had seen it before. She went outside and walked toward him. When she got to him she got an arm around him and lifted him up and helped him along. His legs weren't working too good and he staggered some and I heard mom saying in colorful language: "You dumb ---------you're a mess and I am not in the mood for this." She got him inside and had me help to put him in bed with some difficulty because he was ranting about something and was not cooperating very much. She took his clothes and threw them into the laundry basket and said: "Phew!!! He must have spilled drink on them." I was wide eyed and wanting to get away from it all. Later on mom was telling us kids that Uncle Percy was coming on Saturday and he and dad and others would be having a sort of party. She reminded us that we should get to bed early. Well, I thought about it and decided to have some fun that night. I got hold of some friends and we moved the outhouse back about three feet when it started to turn dark. It was real difficult to move but we managed it. We then took some black tar paper I had found and covered over the pit. One of the guys had brought some grass clippings from home and we threw them around on the tar paper. Well, we waited a while but no one showed up to use the outhouse and, since it was getting late, the other kids went home. I knew my uncle Percy though and he always needed to use the outhouse, especially after having a few drinks. I was supposed to be in my room but was hiding by the house to see what would happen. I didn't have long too wait. There he came, walking outside and a little unsteady on his feet. There was a porch light on but it only gave a dim light of the outhouse area. At night we had all learned to take a flashlight. Uncle Percy didn't have one and so walked to the outhouse to open the door but of course he fell through the tar paper and into the outhouse pit. First he yelled and then the cursing that came out of that Pit could be heard half way down the street. My mother, my dad and some other friends came out to see what all the commotion was about. Someone asked: "How did you get in there?" Uncle Percy swore and said: "Someone moved the outhouse. Don't just stand there get me out of here."
Nobody wanted to touch him so they got a rake and had him grab on while they pulled him up.
As you can expect, he was covered with crap and everybody was laughing. They didn't mean to but they just could not help themselves. He was a mess and mom had him strip off his outer clothes and he stood there in his underwear while they all looked for something to carry water to throw on him. The barrel was full and it wasn't long that it was halfway empty as they splashed him with water. He was handed a bar of soap and a towel with some clean clothes put over an outside clothes line and everyone left to go inside the house while he changed. Meanwhile I was heading for the porch to hide out underneath. I had split a gut watching all of this and it was time to hide.
It wasn't long before I heard my mother yelling my name. "Where are you -you little bugger; when I get my hands on you -you won't be able to sit down for a week." She had found out I was not in my room and was looking for me. She knew I was hiding and so didn't worry about me being gone somewhere. I waited a while and then sneaked up the stairs to my room and went to bed. The next morning I was awakened with a start as Mom had hold of my arm and was dragging me out of bed. She was saying some uncomplimentary things as she whacked my back side. Finally when she was done she said: "Your Uncle Percy will have a few things to say to you when he sees you." She then told me I was grounded and said: "Wait until your dad gets home."
I could hear the conversation downstairs if I went out in the upstairs hall way and listened as there was a grate in the floor that allowed heat from down stairs to come up. I heard my mother discussing the whole siuation with some friends of hers. They were all laughing so much and finally one of them said: "How did you keep a straight face when you were spanking him?" My mother replied: "I was half mad and half hysterical. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. My God, uncle Percy was a sight to see and smelled like a sewer and all the time cussing and being totally ticked off. He looked like a drowned rat, not to mention the fact that he was totally humiliated. He is a proper gentleman, you know, which makes it even funnier. I wish I had had a camera to take a picture!" I sneaked back to my room and all I could think of were two things --
how Uncle Percy looked and sounded and how it was going to be when my dad got home.
That was the hard part. Mom whacked me good but Dad took his belt off and was strong enough to leave an impression. Still it was worth it. My friends who had helped me could hardly wait for me to get off restrictions so I could tell them all about it. Whenever we saw the honey bucket after that we couldn't help but start laughing.
Digby

Friday, January 23, 2009

The water bomb

I finally was in grade six and that meant I had to take a bus to Mulvey school which was almost in downtown Winnipeg. I could hardly wait. Travelling the bus and then a street car every day was a neat experience and going to a large school with lots of classrooms was right up there with the stars. Mom packed a lunch and I was ready for my first day. I jumped aboard the bus and it took us all the way to the main street of Portage and Main. Once there we transferred to a street car. The street car was really different. It had big antennas that came off the top of the roof and attached to a cable where electricity ran through. There was a clanging bell, hard seats and handle attached to a gear that the conductor pulled back and forth to slow or speed up the car. The seats were made for short people and being long legged I had a hard time fitting in the space between me and the next seat. There were advertising signs along the top of the windows and the car rocked back in forth as the street car went along. My stop came and I got off and followed the other kids who had been there before.



My first look at the school was to see a gray colored structure made of brick and along one side was a fire escape. It was made out of steel and looked like a farm silo except on the inside there was a circular slide that came from the third floor to the bottom. I soon learned that when we had fire drills we had to slide down the shute and it was great fun. I was put in Mrs. Schmidts' class which was my home class. She was a German lady who was a no nonsense person and when we went from class to class she would bark orders at us and if it was not going right she would shout,"Halt!" and we did if we knew what was good for us. Lunch time came and some of us were given a pint of milk and we had a whole hour off for lunch.The principal's office was on the second floor and there were stairs leading up and down to all three levels. Pretty soon we got in the routine of it all and so being bored we looked for things to do. Some days we went down town to the Manitoba legislative buidling (which was the capital building of the Province). Perched 240' above the ground atop the dome was a glittering statue of a Golden boy with 23 1/2 K gold. The torch he held symbolized economic progress in the North while the sheaf of wheat held in his left arm represented agriculture.



We had to learn about that right off in our history class. Other days we roamed around Eatons Department Store or the Hudson Bay Store. We had to be quick if we were going to get back in time for school but it was great fun.



One day one of the kids in school came and showed the rest of us how to make a water bomb out of paper. It was square looking when finished and had a hole you could pour in the water. The idea was to fill it up and throw it at other kids. I got the idea to go to the stairway on the third floor and throw it down on someone below. I had two water bombs and I let one drop on a kid below and then fired the other one in the same direction. What I didn't know was one of the teachers stuck her head over the stair rail to see who was throwing the bomb when the second one hit her square in the face. I heard one heck of a commotion down there and took off running. It didn't matter for the teacher had recognized me. Guess who? Yep, Mrs. Schmidt. She came up the stairs and was dripping with water and her hair was matted down but she found me and marched me right to the principal's office, all the time muttering in English and German. She soon explained the whole scene to the principal. He looked sternly at me and said: "What do you have to say for yourself?" I said: "Nothing," and he went to his desk and came back with a strap. He told me to hold out my left hand and gave me ten licks then he had me hold out my right hand and when he struck the first blow I pulled my hand back and he hit his knee. That did it; I got another ten for being a smart aleck. When he was done my hands were tingling and I could feel the throb of pain quite acutely. He sent me back to my home room with Mrs. Schmidt and she sat me in front of the class while she explained the penalty for such behavior. I sat on my hands because they were trembling so and I couldn't keep them still. She sent a note sealed in an envelope to give to my parents. All the way home I contemplated not giving it to my mom but thought better of it because if she found out I would have to leave home to keep from getting killed. I waited for dinner time when we were all sitting at the table and had finished our meal then I gave her the note. She took it and read it and said: "Come with me." I figured she wouldn't be so hard on me in front of my brothers and sisters. Dad wasn't home yet so she whacked me a good one and yelled like she always did: "What is the matter with you? Can't you do anything right? What am I supposed to do with you? Don't I have enough to worry about without having you constantly getting in trouble?" You know what followed next; I was sent to my room but it wasn't so bad. Our walls did not go to the ceiling. It was a small apartment and I could hear every word that was spoken. I climbed up on my dressor and looked over the wall. One of my sisters saw me but didn't give me away. I laughed and stuck my tongue out at her and she laughed and turned away.



The next day I headed back to school and when I entered the school yard one of my friends came up to me and said: "What are you going to do today, Digger? Set your home room on fire?" I said: "Shut up," and started toward the front door. There at the entrance was the principal. I started to turn away but he spotted me and motioned for me to come ahead. Great, I thought, this ought to be good. He said: "I want to see you in my office." I followed him to the second floor and was getting a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. He closed the office door and said: "I have been thinking about you and it seems to me you need some homework." My knees started to get a little wobbly. "I have decided to give you an assignment to read 'The adventures of Tom Sawyer and Hucklberry Finn.' When you have finished reading the book, report back to me." I said: "OK," and he handed me the book and said: "I will ask questions so don't try to skip reading it." I was delighted for I had already read it and it was great fun. Still,I decided to read it again to refresh my mind.



I read it over the weekend and returned the book to the principal. He asked some questions and I answered them well. He paused then and said: "Digby, there is no Indian Joe in your life so try to behave yourself and try to think more and talk less."



School was OK in one respect: Most of the kids there were poor off and there was no worry about how you dressed and if you had a funny lunch. I knew what the principal meant. Maybe things weren't quite the way I wanted them but having an Indian Joe in one's life hadn't reached me yet and if I was smart it never would.



I went home on the street car and saw advertisement for a taxi. One guy said: "Call me a Yellow Cab," and the other guy said: "OK, you're a Yellow Cab." I thought about that and started to laugh. People turned around to stare at me because I was laughing hard and no one was sitting near me. Perhaps tomorrow will be better if I don't stick Margaret's hair in the ink well. Heh!

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Old Jim

I found a job delivering papers in 1946. I had managed to get a paper route with the Winnipeg Free Press. The route they gave me was small with only about thirty papers and it really wasn't enough papers to make it worth while. So in order to expand I had to go out to the country. It meant some distance between deliveries. What made it even more difficult was I didn't have a bike. So being ambitious, I added another thirty customers to the route but walking took a long time and it was difficult. Finally after about three weeks I was delivering a paper to one of my customers and he called me over and said, "Where's your bike?" I explained that I didn't have one and I was saving up to get a bike. He told me to come over to his shop because he had a bike I may be able to use. It was an old bike but it looked in good condition except it needed a paint job. He said I could have it for ten dollars. That was fine with me but I didn't have ten dollars so he made a deal with me to pay him a dollar every pay day until I got it paid for. Fortunately it had a carrier on the front of it where I could put my papers. Well I rode that bike home and was tickled pink that I could now deliver my papers in one third the time; mind you, in those days it was a one speed bike but one speed or not it was a step in the right direction. Now having that bike meant I could add about ten more deliveries in the country. The folks were glad to get the paper and I was in business. I scraped the old paint off of that bike with a piece of broken glass and painted it with a brush. Blue with white fenders. The carrier I painted black . To me it looked great and I took some pride in it. One of the new customers on the route was an old guy named Jim. He was kind of a hermit. He had a ten acre farm with no electricity. A small house with coleman lamps for light and a wood stove for heat. He often would be sitting at the window
of his front room reading or just staring out the window which needed to be a cleaned. Since he was at the end of my route I would stop and talk to him. He was ancient to me and was in his late seventies and so he was born in the 1870's. He was about five foot six inches tall, stocky build with gray hair and beard. He wore works shirts mostly of a dark color and plaid shirt on the weekend. His furnishings were very plain and he had a small table he sat at to eat his food. I remember he would cut a loaf of bread in bigger hunks and dip it in soup or mop up the gravy with it. There was nothing fancy about Jim and he spoke with a slight English accent. I found myself helping him with chores he had and often would come out in my spare time to hang around a bit. Since it was summer he was busy with his garden and getting his firewood in for the winter. He told me he would be putting an oil stove in because he was running out of wood on his property and since he didn't drive, he had to do something else. He wasn't one to talk a lot so we just worked together. He asked me if I would like to help him cut the hay on five of his acres. I was hesitant because I had no idea of how you would cut hay without machinery and he didn't have any. He explained that we would be using a scythe. A long wooden instrument with two short handles on it and a curved piece of steel attached to the end that came to a point. He had both of them sharpened with a good cutting edge and took me out to show me how they worked. The idea was to swing the scythe in a right to left motion taking care to keep the blade somewhat level and yet in a curving up motion. Old Jim would cut a swathe and the two foot grass was cut even to the ground and the hay lay flat and cut clean. I was not doing as well as the first cut didn't cut right thru and the hay wasn't laid flat but more bunchy and uneven. He was patient with me though and worked with me until I could get a fairly decent swing and a better cut. You develop a motion instead of chopping or hacking the grass and cutting to wide a strip of grass. Much of the skill is in keeping the blade close to the ground and the cuts even. We worked on the five acres for a week with him staying for most of the day and I just filling in hours I could spare. When it was done he put his hand on my arm and said: "Now we have to stack." He had a large wagon with big wheels he had made that he pulled. The wagon had two arms coming out from the frame and a cross bar on the end. One could get on the insde of the arms and use your body to push on the cross bar and move the wagon ahead. Well, we had pitchforks then to fill the wagon with hay and transport the hay to a pile he had started. In three days we had piled up the hay off the field . It was a good size haystack and Jim sold it to a guy who came with a truck and he said Jim knew how to grow alphalfa and it was clean and a good price. To this day I love the smell of new moan hay
Well old Jim started to trust me and so he would talk more. The conversations ranged from his childhood to the present date. I don't remember a lot about it but one thing came across. He was gentle and well read. He had a room full of books and complained that his glasses were not as good as he would like them to be. He never bought a new pair for a while but I thought he just didn't have the money. I do not know how he supported himself but he was frugal and I guess that is why I was so surprised when the work was done and he called me into his house and showed me a generator, light and cable for my bike. He explained how it worked and helped me put it on. I knew at the time I coudn't afford it but it was a great gift and one so practical. It came in handy during the winter months when it got dark. I rode my bike for deliveries even then but their were many days I couldn't and had to walk. Many times I would see him from the road sitting at his table with his hands clasped together in prayer. He would have a bowl of porridge in the mornings and other times some cheese, bread and raw vegetables. He drank coffee and tea and loved butter milk which the neighbor alway got for him. Well what this all adds up to is the sweet soul he was. The neighbors liked him and he wasn't anti social just liked to keep to himself more often than not. I suppose that is why I felt so priveledged. I brought him home dinner to in later years and he enjoyed himself immensely. He came into my life when a young boy was alone and discouraged. He never demanded nor pushed for my help. It just came as he and I got acquainted. Slowly I seen the good in him and the upright man he was . He was a little stooped over and walked at a fast pace when he was going somewhere. We saw each other frequently and then I left Winnipeg and said goodbye. It was the kind of goodbye that said so much and he saw the tear in my eye and gave me a hug. I lost contact with him and heard later on that he had moved into a senior housing project. Who can explain a friendship that an old man and a boy have.Who can not laugh to see a tall gangling kid walking with an old man who took short steps. One trying to keep up and the other trying to slow down. That was one of the few times that old Jim laughed out loud and pointed to the fact that we were an odd pair. I can remember his voice and his manner. I can see his image in my minds eye and to this day it brings me a touch of well being. The old man who just was there and filled a void and gave some purpose to a young kid. God bless the Jim's of this world.

Digby

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

The Rabbits of #3 Wireless

Some of the 48 families living in the government housing at #3 had dogs, cats, a few guinea pigs and white mice. There were no rabbits there and my buddies and I got to talking about it. We didn't have a dime between us and yet we wanted to get some rabbits. We cooked up an idea to head down to Assiniboine Park which was a big city park belonging to the city of Winnipeg. We had been to the park many times and we all knew it fairly well. It was a huge park with about 400 acres of property. There were many sights and sounds in that park and a large Zoo. We knew exactly where the rabbits were caged and devised a plan to cut the wire and grab some rabbits to take back to #3. There were four of us kids and we would each grab one and bring it back to keep in a rabbit cage we would build. We got to work and fashioned the cages and then came the night for us to ride our bikes to the park, take along a sack each for the rabbits we would grab and then ride home. The weather was cloudy and no moon was visible and we set out to get it done. We weren't looking at it as stealing, it was just something to do. But of course that is exactly what we were doing. We rode into the Zoo area and found the caged rabbits. Each of us had wire cutters we had scrounged up and went to work. I had just cut a big enough hole to pull the rabbit out when one of the guys said, "There is a policemen coming." There was a policeman who rode around on a bike in the summer and kept an eye on things. We all had bolted for our bikes but I took an extra minute to pull a rabbit out, put it in the sack, tied a quick knot and grabbed my bike which had a carrier on the front. Off we all went with no talking and riding for all we were worth. Apparently the officer hadn't spotted us and we got away clean. We never stopped until we got back home and two of the guys had generators on their bikes and had enough light for the rest of us to see and follow. When we got back and took inventory I had been the only one to grab a rabbit. I put him in the cage I had built and after we all petted the rabbit and talked about what we were going to do with it, it was decided to leave it with me for the time being. We fixed up a bowl for drinking water and put some lettuce and carrots we had snitched from home in the cage.

The next morning I got up early to check on it and discovered it laying down and not moving too much. It seemed the rabbit was Ok but not too active. We soon found out why. It was a female and had about eight babies. We were excited and each kid was claiming one. The female was pure white and large. Well, first things first. One of the guys folks had a book on rabbits and he had brought it with him. We found out that the larger breeds had six to 12 and carried them for two months. It looks like our rabbit adventure had multiplied. The little ones were fed milk from the mother and they were born blind, naked and helpless. It took about a week to open their eyes and we had made sure the mother had plenty of vegetable things. In three weeks they were caring for themselves and there was lot of nose twitching going on. All the babies were white and their appetites were growing. Meanwhile the other guys were losing interest in the rabbits and they were scared to take them home. I had told my mother we had found it and were taking care of it. "See that you do" she said, "and then find a home for them." Some were for turning them loose. They were rabbits and they could survive in the woods. One wanted to give them away and another thought we could give them back to the Zoo. "Yeh, great!" we all said in unison. I can just see the zoo keepers wanting to know where we got them and thinking about someone stealing a rabbit a few months back. We all thought about it and it was decided to go back at night to the Zoo and put them back in a cage. They all looked at me and said, "Since you stole it you should put them all back." I protested but no one else stepped forward to volunteer.

Well, we worked it out. We would take two of the cages and leave them right with the other rabbits at the compound. We rode our bikes and the two of us who had baskets shared the hauling. I took the young ones and my friend took the Mother and we started for the park. It was a bright night with a full moon and we could see well and headed right for the compound. We quickly put the cages on top of the big cages and were starting to take off. Just then we heard, "Stay right where you are." We didn't wait to see who it was; we just kept riding . When we looked back there was no one chasing us but we kept up the speed and after about fifteen minutes sailed through the entrance to the park amd stopped on the other side to take a breather. I looked at my friends and they were breathing hard and one said, "That was close." We all agreed and started for home. All the rest of the way home we talked back and forth and got to laughing at how that guy that yelled scared the heck out of us. One kid gave us fits of laughter when he said: "That's not all he scared out of us." Well, the rabbit was back where it came from with an added bonus of eight more. We had escaped being in big trouble and went home breathing a sigh of relief. I have to admit that when I lay in my bed that night I was thankful that it ended the way it did. A couple of days later my Mom said to me, "What did you do with the rabbits." "Oh, we gave them away" I said. "They have a good home now." She replied, "Oh I know they have good home for it was a friend of mine who yelled at you that night in the park. He works at the park as a watchman and he recognized you kids." She then laughed hysterically and said, "If I ever catch you doing something like that again I'll kick your butt from here to the grocery store." She then turned and walked back into the house, all the time laughing repeatedly. I didn't know what to say so I sat down to digest all that had just happened. I never saw my mother that forgiving but somehow it had tickled her fancy and she let it go.

Digby

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

The Sling Shot

Grade five at the school I went to was not really special. You see all five grades were in the same room. Yes, it was a one room school house. Our teacher was Mrs Mathis and she was an older lady with a no nonsense attitude. She sometimes would talk for quite awhile and a white foam would form around her lip and us kids would be waiting for it to fall but it never did, it just sort of hung there until she would wipe it off. It happened time and time again and we would watch for it to grow and it was great fun to whisper about. So our school days weren't that exciting in the class room. Outside the class room was another story. We had a kid there who was big and had a mean streak in him. He would punch someone just for fun, or trip them or steal their lunch or just be nasty and say unkind things. No one would squeel on him because he threatened them and said he would get them after school. One day he hit one of the kids and hurt him and was laughing at his plight. I made the mistake of speaking up. I called him a bully and said he wasn't so strong. He said I'm strong enough to whip your butt. I pulled the old saying on him. I said if your so strong (then I spit on the ground) and said pick that up) He was smart enough not to cause to much commotion as it woud get the attention of the teacher. So he just said I'll get you after school .He was true to his word. I could run and so could he. The race was on and about half way home he caught me and roughed me up pretty good. The next day was a repeat of the first. This time he pushed me on the ground and then rubbed my face in the dirt. He was just to big and no matter what I did I couldn't fend him off. So after that when ever he felt like it he would chase me down and work me over. He never hit me in the face but my arms and shoulders were plenty sore from the punching. Finally on a friday afternoon he was at it again and something snapped inside of me. I never whimpered and never cried out or made a fuss. I just stared at him. He kicked me on the leg and let me go.

I left and I was seething with resentment and I resolved to do sometlhing about it. As I sat on the steps of the house I started thinking about a sling shot. That was it. I would show the rat what some real pain was like. I started in and began to make a sling shot. I found an nice Y shaped branch in the bush out behind our apartment. I cut it down and cleaned the bark off of it. I then cut notches in the Y part at the top so I could fasten the strips of rubber I had gotten from an old inner tube. I found an old pair of boots and took the tongue out of it to use for a pouch to hold stones and such. It took some work to make it right. I cut the strips of rubber so they were just right -not to short or to long. I then fastened the rubber to the tongue and I was ready. I went out and tried it and it took some adjustments to make it more workable. I began to practice and Jackie was still beating me up and I kept practicing. Finally I was ready. I hid the sling shot in my pack and when the bell rang I was out the door and heading home and there was Jackie running after me. I suddenly stopped and faced him. The sling shot was in my hands and I was quite confident I could hit what I was shooting at. I had been using stones but for this occasion I had slipped some marbles into my pack. I was a little shaky and Jackie was saying. Oh I'm so frightened you have a sling shot. Mocking me and moving towards me. I told him in plain language he had better leave me alone or I would shoot him with the slingshot. He just laughed and kept coming. It was now or never and let fly with a shot that hit him right in the middle of the forehead. He went down and when he looked up I had put another marble in the pouch and was ready to let fly with another one. He started to get up and I felt it was time to get out of there and ran off. It wasn't long after that the mounted police were at our door. There was a conversation between them and my mom and then I was called out to talk with them. They asked me why I had hit him with the shot from the sling shot and I told them. I said Iwas tired of being beat up and had to do something. The asked why I had not reported him. I just shruggged because those that were tattle tales were often looked on as not being trustworthy. Well what followed was really scary. The mounties took me to their car and we went down to the local jail which was real close.Boy I felt so alone and was scared all the time I was in there. They took the slingshot away from me and gave me quite a talking to about the fact that someone could get serious hurt and they didn't want that and neither did I. Years later I found out my mother had cooked that up with the officers to throw a scare into me. It worked.
It wasn't over though for Jackie saw me at school and walked over toward me. I notice he had a good size bump on his forehead and he pointed to it and said. Granger! I am going to make you pay for this. Wait til I get done with you. The school bell rang but I had an edge. The school teacher began talking to Jackie just when the bell rang. I grabbed my pack and ran as fast as I could and beat him home. Now the fat was in the fire. I quickly got my chores done and decide to make another sling shot. The next day at school I had my sling shot in my pack and was ready for whatever would happen. The school day ended and out the door I went with Jackie right after me. I saw that he was gaining so I stopped and got my sling shot ready. He stopped and looked me over and said. You wont use that because your in trouble with the police. I assured him I would for I had no other choice. Just then several kids showed up who had decided to see how this would all play out. Jackie was showing off then and came at me. I let one fly and caught him on the leg. He let out a yell and got red in the face and started after me again. This time I never put as much power behind it but it got him right on the nose. He yelped with pain and I was really getting worried. He rubbed his nose and looked at me for what seemed like a long time. He then said your not worth it and walked away. The other kids said he is going to report you but I thought he wouldn't because he would be in big trouble also. I was still trembling and the other kids said boy you sure showed him. I replied that I was just trying to get him to leave me alone. One kid said. You got it done. Yes I had for the pain he was going thru didn't make it fun anymore. Also Jackie was mean but he also was some what hesitant when someone was fighting back.
Later . I thought about all that had happened and looked at that sling shot and wondered what was I thinking. I wasn't in one way because I could have killed him and that would have had serios consequences. We get as much trouble as we ask for and did Jackie and I both learn from that . No doubt about it.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Major McKinnel continued

Major McKinnel wanted me to be part of the salvation army core cadets. They were younger kids my age who could take part in some of the activities of the Salvation Army Program. It was meant for youth and I had some good times with them. I tried my hand at learning the cornet but my musical talents were far and few between. The whole idea was to meet once a week at night for youth activities and go to worship service on Sunday. I tried my hand at it for the Majors sake but it just wasn't a way for me to go. One time they called on anyone who wanted to be saved to come up to the front of the church and kneel at the alter with a counselor who would pray with you. Then you would take Jesus Christ as your personal Savior. Four or five of us kids were daring each other to go up and take the plunge. The conversations went something like this. You go up! I'm not going up you go up. I"ll go up if you go up. Lets all go up together. Eventually we all went up and it was done and we were now saved from our sins. I was part of the program for about a year and then got the opportunity to go to Fresh Air Camp. There was a huge lake named Lake Winnipeg that was big enough to have storms and a fishing industry off of it. Well the fresh air camp was on the shores of part of that lake front. It was a week of fun, worship and standing in line at night to drink an egg nog. I couldn't stand the stuff but drank it down in one swallow almost and then headed for the bunkhouse The Major was the den mother for some of us kids and she had her own room and the rest of us slept in bunkbeds lined up in the bunk house. One afternoon when we had all gone back to the Bunkhouse to get ready to play volleyball at the playfield; one of the big mouths was making fun of Major Mckinnel. He called her names and started to say some unkind things. I stopped him right in the middle of it and said to let it go. He got mouthy and started in again. I warned him and he kept it up so I slugged him. The fight was on.
Meanwhile the Major had slipped in at the start of it and was watching from her room while we went at it. I remember saying you or no one else can say anything like that about the Major when I"m around. Well the Major let it go on as long as she dared and then got in the middle of it and broke it up. She never said what started this or asked any questions. She made her point about getting along and being good to each other. That was it. Later on just before bed call she called me into her room to talk to me. She said I heard the whole thing Digby and I could have stopped the fight sooner. I should have but that other boy needed a lesson I couldn't teach him. When I saw that you had got some good licks in I broke up the fight. She gave me a hug shooed me out the door and said.Thanks lad for standing your ground and sticking up for me. I went to bed that night feeling just about as fine as I could ever remember. Through the years we kept in touch and I was twenty nine years old working in the area and about to get married in less than a year when I found out Major McKinnel was living in Burnaby, BC. Canada. I went to see her and ended up renting a room from her where I stayed until I went to the United states to get married. Well she was pretty set on her ways and things had to be just so. She liked to read the scriptures with me at night and she would have me sing a hymn with her once in a while. It was sort of weird but I loved her and went along. If we had any visitors she had the same routine with them. I want to pause and relate a story I was told by the major; it will give you an idea of her resourcefullness and her driven desire to serve the Lord. In the province she was raised in she had quite a reputatiion for shooting a pistol and won some championships for her skill with the weapon. I don't remember the type of hand gun but she knew what to do with it. Well , one of her assignments in Alaska was to raise money for the Sally Anne. She ventured forth among the populace and began knocking on doors. She went into a popular tavern in town and started to make the rounds. The folks in there started chiding her a bit and saying were not just going to hand over our money you have to work for it. As I understood it at that time some of the fellows had just come from a pistol range and she got to talking shop with them. One of them challenged her to a bullseye contest and said they would all contribute something to the Sally Anne if she could beat them at the firing range. She readily agreed and off they went. On looking around when they got there the Major spotted her style of gun and asked to borrrow it, than asked for a few minutes to get used to the weapon. They agreed and the Major stepped up to the spot she was to fire from. Now the folks gathered there were hunters and there were also some law enforcement officers who agreed to make sure everything was on the up and up. Well the major fired off several rounds was generally on the target but nothing spectacular. She announced she was ready and then winked at her companion officer of the Sally Anne. The shooters were all taking their turns and some of them were doing quite well. Others were darn good and they kidded her and said your up Major we'll try not to show you up too bad. Then it began. The Major kept firing into the center of the bullseye with precision accuracy and befor the match was done had skunked the lot of them. By then they were realizing they had been royally duped but were good sports and handed over their money as the Major smiled broadly and announced. Oh by the way fellows. I won a marksmanship trophy as the the best shot with a pistol in my home town. They scratched their heads and laughed and one of them said. Shooting is not the only thing your good at. She laughed heartily, talked to them a while and went on her way.
Well that brings me back to reading the scriptures and singing with Major Mckinnel. One of the fellows I homesteaded with in the back woods of British Columbia was coming by to pick me up. He had some real laughs at my expense over the years when we were homesteading. One time branding was going on and they were heating up the irons and I was to keep the fire stoked and to generally be a roustabout for the ranch hands. I was greener than grass and so always good for a laugh. On one occasion Barry roped a steer and gave it some slack as it was running by me. He yelled grab the rope Dig which I prompltly did and before I knew it was being pulled along with that steer ballowing while I tried to untangle myself from the whole thing. The guys were having a real chuckle and so years later here I am with Barry who is walking up the steps to meet Major Mckinnel. Barry was all man, stocky of build with a flare for being amongst the all guy group. Knowing her habits I kept quiet while Barry and her had a great talk about ranching, guns etc. Then came the moment. She had Barry read a scripture and he was not to uncomfortable until the time came to sing a song. Rightly named "Bringing in the Sheaves" He went along for my sake but he was turning two shades of red and I was doing my level best to sing with gusto all the time watching him squirm. It was all I could do to keep a straight face. We left and when we got into the car I started laughing and could not stop. Barry finally threatened to leave me along side the road if I didn't quit; every once in a while while we drove together I would chuckle and Barry would say "Shut up Granger" and that would make me laugh some more. I finally said I never heard you sing better especially the part about "we will stand rejoicing bringing in the sheaves." How sweet it is!

Friday, January 16, 2009

Angry at God

One time when I was just twelve years old I got so angry at God. Things wern't rosy at home and it didn't look to me like my life was any bed of roses. I pondered over the disapointments and cussed out life. I was delivering papers in a town called Tuxedo which was a mile down the road. The people their had fine homes and all the necessities of life. I shoveled their driveways in the winter, did odd chores and generally tried to make a buck . They were mostly kind people and delivering papers to their homes had its moments. Once in awhile while I heard conversations when their kids would talk about their summer vacations. I was offended that they had so much and I had so little. I tried not to be unhappy and generally wasn't but this one day I looked around and felt lost, envious, betrayed and a sadness settled over me. I was having a pity party and I shouted at the heavens. I said; how come these rich folks have so much. Nice homes, talents, good looks, nice personalities , great families and besides that , it is really hard not to like them.What kind of a God are you. You play favorites. And just to put the icing on the cake they have a brand new school and we are in a one room school house with five grades. When we move to the sixth grade we have to take a bus all the way downtown about ten miles I think. That is the last straw God. Are we left overs or what? You were so silent but I said my piece and didn't wrap it in any flowers either. The conversaton was one sided because I did all the talking. I didn't like the feeling that came over me; it was a restless type of bother that wouldn't go away.
You know God , I had asked my mother about you and she sure doesn't like you much. She says your a God with pat answers. She says the only thing she ever got out of going to church was a holier than thou attitude. She said those sanctimonious pillars of the church spend six days breaking the law and go on the seventh so they can feel good and take advantage of somebody. I had to look up a couple of those words to get the drift. Boy, my mom has it in for you and she used some bad language too. I didn't have to look those words up --phew!There is something about you God that makes me want to hang around a church a little bit. This is the first place we have lived where there is no church on the corner. Usually I would go sometimes in those days.. Now I only know one guy and he told me I would have to go to church to get the goods on you. A preacher came around to our neighborhood and talked to us about religous things but I paid him no mind until he said they were going to have a free week summer camp this year and there was room for a few more kids. He said if we attended a bible study for awhile we could get to go with our parents permission. To a kid from my side of the tracks that was music to my ears. I played the game, even learned a line from the Bible to make an impression. It must have worked because I was one of the kids who got to go. The preacher told us God loved us and told us about your son and all that. I didn't care about all that as long as I got to go to camp.
The preacher didn't come back after camp but you sent a Major McKinnel from the Salvation Army to see me.At least she had said you sent her. I got to admit God that she sure was one fine lady. She had that Bonnet they wear on and it was tied tight because she drove up in that open air jeep and honked the horn like she knew me all her life.She smiled a lot and had a look in her eye that was quite piercing. I didn't know whether to run or stick around. When she spoke to me she spoke proper like. "How do you do young man" I just nodded but she kept up the conversation by saying Your Digby right. I was taken back; nodded yes and looked at her rather strangely. You know my name I said. Yes, it was told to me. Who was it told you? Your mother. What ! my mother doesn't like church folks. She likes me just find said the Major. She was neat God and I didn't seem to mind having her around and got to like her. She talked about you a lot like you was some old friend. I said to her "why are you here? She replied I am one of God's helpers and he has sent me to see you. She then laughed at my amazement and I wondered if she knew about my angry outburst the other day. I said if God sent you, how come he waited so long. She replied. God does things in His own way and perhaps it was time for you to get to know Him. I rolled my eyes and said well maybe. He might be mad at me cause I told him off. She laughed heartedly and said. I think it will be alright. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. We fell easily into conversation after that. One day I said to her. God knows I'm different right? Do you know why your diffrent she asked. No I said. Well Digby because God made you different.Well maybe he did but I didn't want to be that diffrent. Your different because your special Digby and in time you will begin to appreciate being different but in the mean time lets just learn about God and be friends. Things happened after that. Some good some not so good but the major had added something to my life. We were a mixed bag of kids in our neighborhood looking for a way out. Major McKinnel had thrown me a life line and I had grabbed hold of it. Sometimes when the wind is blowing just right I can hear here call. Digby, Digbeeeeee. where are you my boy? A tear comes to my eye and I now think. Oh Major McKinnel I'm right here and I miss you so.

Digby

Thursday, January 15, 2009

When the Whipporwill Sings

This is more prose than poetry. I got to thinking about years gone by, about new and old friends and thought about the wipporwill who is less often seen and forges at night. It is a bird with a distinct call and once you have heard one the sound stays with you.It has its chicks in the moonlight so the light helps to forge for food. Helpfull moonlight.

When the wipporwill sings

It's is the age when seperation knocks
It's not the gender or the stock
It's is the flame of love and heart
It's the holding on that we are part

Still the wipporwill sings
Beautifully throated and needed

The children leave, the grownups too
The sun has set and the moon is blue
Tears gone dry and the head is full
The living wait by an empty pool

Still the whipporwill sings
Beautifully throated and needed

A family and a families friends
Looking on as this life ends
Feeling the hurt and the pain
Knowing it was in the living we had gain

Still the wipporwill sings
Beautifully throated and needed

What a distance measured only once
Hold on tight less the memories fade
It's sad for it is a hurtful bounce
Every breathing moment we cannot trade

Still the wipporwill sings
Beautifully throated and needed

One last cherished word and thought
Oh the lessons wev'e been taught
We go on to an appointed crown
Until we meet again we'll hear the sound

When the wipporwill sings
Beautifully throated and needed


Digby

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Monday, January 12, 2009

Golf Course Indian

Golf Ball Indian:
Growing up in poor circumstances can lead one to be creative and sensitive to finding ways to make a buck. Being 12 years old in 1948 was no exception except to say having a paper route brought in ten dollars a month but eight dollars went to my mother and the two bucks was spread thin. So to take up the slack some of us kids went down to the Tuxedo Golf Course which was eighteen holes and looked for golf balls in the out of bound and bushy areas. It was summer vacation from school and we had time on our hands. The way it worked is if a golfer hit a golf ball into the rough he or she sometimes could not find their ball nor would they look for it too long especially if the golf course was busy with players. Where we came in was to search the roughage for the lost golf balls and then clean them up and sell them back to other golfers. We weren’t given permission to do so but they generally ignored us. Still some of the kids decided to help the golfers lose their balls by watching where a ball fell and then waiting for the golfers to start walking toward the next hole and the place of the ball they had just hit. The golfers marked the spot in their minds and on the way generally got into a conversation with the other golfers as they headed down the fairway. Meanwhile some of the kids would slither thru the grass and pick up the golf ball and then disappear until the golfer got tired of looking and gave up then spotted a new golf ball and went on with the game. Like all things the disappearance of golf balls became more than normal and the golfers and management at the golf course caught on. Now I never stole any golf balls but did find the real lost ones but as far as the golfers and management were concerned we were all guilty. I usually arrived early in the morning to look for balls but I wasn’t the only one; the early birds get the worm and in this case the golf ball. We would all search the brush and grass until the golfers started streaming in and then some revert to stealing the balls,
Well I wasn’t paying attention to the other kids I was concentrating on finding when all of a sudden someone grabbed my arm. I looked up and there was Johnny the Indian. We called him that as he was Johnny on the spot meaning he was fast and quick and some of the kids had warned us that he was on the look out for the ball stealers. Well he had me and was saying in a very soft-spoken way slurring his words but the message was clear.
You sure are in big trouble kid and there is no one here to help you. Stealing balls is going to cost you and that’s for sure. He then gave me some instruction. I am heading back to the clubhouse and I have to stop at each green and fix up some bad spots. You will ride with me in this golf cart and be with me as I fix the holes. I do not want you more than five feet away. I nodded shook my head up and down to signify I understood.
He then said they would deal with you at the clubhouse. I moaned and groaned about how unfair this was because I hadn’t stolen any golf balls. I pleaded with him to try to see my position and was sure there must be another way to take care of this My words fell on deaf ears and he said you should have thought about this before you got in trouble. Now shut up and follow me. Well he worked on five greens while he was keeping an eye on me,
He would work the damaged spot and had to stoop over many times to place a special divot of grass in the damaged area. I had been looking around and knew that at the next hole we would be close to a fence and where there was sufficient cover if I could get away. He was working this green just like all the others and was within five feet of him as he instructed. He bent over to replace a damaged spot and the opportunity came. I kicked him in the backside; he fell flat on his face and I bolted for the fence. I was long legged and was gathering speed when he tackled me. I hadn’t even made it to the fence. He picked me up by my left my arm and slapped me lightly along the right side of the head. Boy did that smart. He then swore at me and yelled. “Now you have done it” I’m taking your straight back to the clubhouse. Words came out of his mouth like a torrent and they werent audible.Then all of a sudden he started laughing. I was visibly shaken up and his laughing made it very tense and I thought I’m really in the soup this time. By then he had marched me back to the green. He spoke harshly and said what is your name and don’t lie to me. It is bad luck to lie to an Indian and kicking one in the A---is bad medicine. He seemed to change his tone then and was half laughing as he spoke to me. He said something like I don't believe it kid you actually made me look ridiculous.
I bluttered out that I was sorry and I had that slap coming but he had put me in a bad spot and I had to do something.
I looked at him and said. My mother will tongue lash me, my father has a strap with my name on it and I will have more pain at home than you can give me. He started laughing again and said. Kid you got some guts to kick me and then have the brass to make excuses for it. He then grabbed me and marched me back to the fence. I didn’t know what was coming next but I was sure it wouldn’t be good. He took a hard hold of me and put his face close to mine and said. I am going to let you go. You know why? I shook my head no and looked at him in a strange way. It was half relief and half curiosity. Show me the golf ball you stole and turn your pockets inside out. I said I didn’t steal one and I haven’t got one and did as he asked.He laughed again and said I knew that right off and was just trying to scare you. I said it worked- He laughed and said I did not count on you trying to get away but you left an impression especially on my A----.
Now get the hell out of here and don’t let me catch you again. And Kid, don’t let anyone tell you us Indians are not ok. He laughed again and walked away and I hollered back. Some Indian you are; you don’t even have a feather. He reached into his pocket and showed me a feather. I bust out laughing and so did he. This day came with a price. No golf balls to sell, no future golf balls to sell and no extra money. But who could I tell about it. If word got back to Mom I wouldn't be able to sit down for a week. No one would believe me anyway.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Hideaway

All of us have some sort of spot or hideway that we remember or perhaps go to from time to time to settle our thoughts.It may be the heart of a big city or the main street of a small town. Wherever it is, the shades are lifted and one is welcome through its doors. I found such place in my younger years.

Its name is Euchiniko Lake and it rests in the mountains of British Columbia like a handsome jewel in a velvet case.The first thought that came to my mind when I first saw Euchiniko was how close her borders seemed to be. It appeared Euchiniko was a river rather than a lake. Perhaps because it stretched a good three miles and lay like dog's hind leg amongst the trees.
The most any stranger would say was "It was there"; and why not -- the deadfall stopped the horses from coming in and bade one go on foot to the shore of the lake. The dense underbrush grew right up toward the lake front and the water was murky in the spring and alive with driftwood. It was enough to discourage the hunters and fishermen but I came there and felt its pulse and penetrated its heart. I have seen the sky light up just before nightfall and loved it. I have watched the sun spread and thin each morning and evening. I feel the Lark's heart beat every time it sings. I know the gentle feeling that comes from watching a doe and her fawn gaze out across the lake. I sense the rythmn of Owl's wings and count each of its whoos as if they were only for my ears. I hear the creek flowing into it, gurgle and splash and as as I walk. I cling to the strong arm of a tree less I fall on the slippery slopes leading to the lake. I would like to share it but for now I will have to be selfish. I take it and nourish my civilized mind and it helps to reduce my swells of frustration over the undone and the disappointments. So for me, here the world seems to be in tune or at least I think it is. It is late spring and leaves are coming out and the wilderness gives off a freshenss that fills your senses and gives you a sense of satisfaction that is rare these days. The forests with their beaded hillsides show colors popping out of the green like a child in a field of uncut hay. Then there is the morning break of the birds singing. Such infinite sounds. The chicadee with its gentle cry or the wood thrush milking the pain of a man and reaching down into his very soul with sweetness. But to the Raven goes the wreath. There he chugalugs like a frog and there warbles almost on key. If that isn't enough, his throat scratches out the crow's course grained cry. His is the changing melody and the raspings trials of the beginner. Perhaps it is I who is the stranger here. I who walked under the cottonwoods and smelled the scent of pines in the wind. I know something of the forest, especially with the spread of its leaves. One leaf falls and then two, soon a whole chorus rocking slowly to earth. I have felt at times that the wilderness was endowed with the qualities of the Master Musician. No straining but melodiously growing and spreading its beauty. I found the lake came to life if one had the patience to stand quietly by its bed, especially in the early hours of the morning. Take the big rock cradled in the middle of the lake. Austere it was like a shrouded hearse and cold to the touch. The lake drew the sunshine and lapped and warmed the base of the rock. Warmed it so that the birds came and lay upon its head. Sometimes the morning was kind and the sky was clear blue and the darkness slipped away rather quickly. Now the deer walked down from their hiding places to the drink the cool water and watched curiously as a beaver gnawed and fell trees to the waters edge. The eagle flew high to watch it all and floated by in cocky assurance of his strong wings.

I would select a spot touched by the sun and lie there soaking up the rays. Then I would lazily
stare at the world before me and I could see Euchiniko lying at bay like a boat in a narrow inlet.
Sometimes if you got there early a veil of mist would lie just above the water and cast fingers of smoke out of the light that was coming in. It seems enough at those moments but they are soon gone and you are awakened from the dream of it all. Still, for awhile the world was in order and you felt it and if you could have hugged yourself you would have. It doesn't get much better than that.

Friday, January 9, 2009

New Year 2009

Well 2008 has gone out choking and fussing and swallowing hard. We finally killed it off by giving a swift kick in its economic side. We were not content with that so we loaded up all of the disapointments, thefts, skullduggary, lies and threw them in with shame, dishonor and I didn't do it guys. They didn't die easy ,we had to throw dirt on top and than smack it down with low wages, lost jobs. low stock prices and inflation. Inflation almost done us in and we kept sitting on the coffin lid and eventually deflation took over and we nailed the coffin lid shut and shined up the head stone which read. Death by debt and exposure. John Q. Citizen.

Memo: The economic graveyard was full this year. It seems Wall Street, Main Street and I"ll be dammed street took up a lot of room. That left a few spots only for ticked off and not again who seem to have found out too late they were in the public cemetary. We buried them three high to save money and used illegal immigrant labor to build identical tombstones. We paid the workers with checks drawn on Washington Mutual Bank payble on December 31, 2008. There was a lot of complaints that the checks wern't any good but we had Hank Paulson the Treasury Secretary vouch for them. It seems the Mexican government lodged a formal complaint that the mexican illegal immigrants were arrested by immigation officers for impersonating american citizens and digging without a permit on american soil. The charges were dropped when it was found out the illegal immigrants were on the domestic staff of several Senators and congressmen. They denied it and broke for vacation. Everything was blamed on the high cost of living and the 2008 was finally finished.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Just for a nickel

A young thought is formed while kicking a can down the road. I was in grade two. It was toward the end of the school year and we were going to be let out in a matter of days.I was looking forward to having the summer off but even at that age I could remember what the last summer was like and it was boring. We had no extra money and we lived in a two bedroom apartment in the industrial area. I remember a coal yard near by and a big wharehouse where I heard a lot of banging and machinery noise. Around the corner and down the street was a corner grocery store.The owner of the store was of jewish descent who talked loud and his wife talked louder. I dont know if each one thought the other was going deaf but along with their loudness was a accent.
He would often say to me when I went in there.Such a boy you got something to say. I never said anything and he would continue.You know such a work we have here. Every day something and some days more than something. His wife would pipe in. Tel me about it. Who could find such work for two people. well there is no way out. Not so good but not so bad. At least we got each other. He would reply. Some people have no one and others have many someone's. This boy he has lots of someones in his family.
I went there often and had a list my mother gave me to give to the grocer and he would fill it out and hand me the bag of groceries and I would bring them home. Sometimes I would be slow in going home and when I got there my mother would ask me are you a slow poke or did you see a circus on the way. She asked me if the grocer had put a slip in the bag. I said yes and I asked her how come he gave us those things with out money. She just said he is keeping track of the items and she would pay him on payday. I didn't understand that and she didn't take the time to explain.
I made a couple of trips a week for my mom. When I was at the store I began to look around and noticed that next to the big cooler was a room where bottles were kept. Once I went in there on a thursday and noticed a milkman picking up all the empty bottles and taking them out to his truck. Thru part of the summer he always was there on thursdays and afte delivering full bottles of milk and other dairy products he would be picking up the empty milk bottles .I wasn't sure of the time but it always happened on Thursdays. I decided one day after finding out that folks got five cents for bringing back the empty milk bottle that I could make five cents without having a bottle. I went to the store awhile later on a wednesday and waited outside until the store was busy with customers and then went in and waited in line. When it came my turn to be served I handed the Grocer a list from my mother and he began to fill it. When he was done I said to him I had put my empty milk bottle in the storage room and I wanted my five cents. He looked at me for a moment and said why dont you show me where you put the bottle. I wasn't worried for the storage room always had lots of empty bottles. I walked over to the room and opened the door and to my dismay there wasn't an empty bottle in the place. I tried to talk my way out of it but he wasn't listening ,he grabbed me by the skruff of the neck . He said some Jewish word and than said. The delivery truck had just finished picking up all the bottles a half hour ago. Looking at other customers he said. Can you imagine this slepp( a new word to me) is trying to get a nickel for something he doesn't have. He held me tight and walked over to the telephone. Looked for my mothers name and called her. After explaining the situation he said to her on the phone. The milkman 's son was having a special soccer game and he came the day before so he could arrange to be at his kid's soccer game. He hung up the phone and yelled at me and dragged me over to a corner and told me to stand there out of the way. The customers in there were staring at me and shaking their heads. I heard phrases like. What is wrong with this kid. Can you imagine he tried to trick Mr Greenberg into giving him five cents for an empty bottle he never brought in with him. One woman pointed her finger at me and said."Shame on you, I hope your mother gives you a good spanking." I was scared and was looking down at the floor as she was talking to me.I was standing there for about fifteen minutes when my mother walked in.She glared at me and walked over to talk to Mr Greenberg. By then the store had few customers and Mrs Greenberg was looking after them. I heard some words from the conversation between my mom and Mr Greenberg. Saturdays will be alright. 10 am to I.00pm. Two weeks will be fine. She apologized to the Greenbergs and than grabbed me by the ear and faced the Greenbergs. She said you little bugger if you ever do antything like this again I'll spank your bottom until you can't sit down.Tell Mr & Mrs Greenberg your sorry. I sputtered out an apology while mom tightened her grip on my ear. She stood flat footed and said you will show up here for the next two Saturdays at 10-oclock. Mr Greenberg will have work for you to do and he will tell you when to go home Is that understood? Before I could say yes she yelled at me to speak up and grabbed me by the arm and started out the door.She was livid and when we got outside she pulled me along and I was having trouble keeping up with her as she dragged me across the street. When we reached the other side she started smacking me all over the place.Yelling at me and saying what were you thinking. You know how I hate lying and stealing.. She then smacked me alongside the head and said quit your crying or I'll give you something to really cry about. All the way home she had me by the scruff of the neck and kept lifting me up and smacking me on the backside.
When she got me home she sat me down gave me a lecture which was worst than the spankings.
Then she said you little S----- and said get out of my sight. Well it wasn't the end of it for when my Dad got home he gave me a spanking and I was mighty sore in a certain spot for a few days.
I spent the next two saturdays sweeping and scrubbing floors at the Store.Finally when my two Saturdays were up Mr Greenberg said: I hope you have learned your lesson. Mrs Greenberg was a little kinder she said. Somethings are hard but see that you behave yourself and then tucked me under the chin and gave me a hug. The next time I went in there. Mr Greenberg said: You maybe have an empty milk bottle. I swallowed hard and handed him the list and said no milk bottle. He laughed and said good. Empty milk bottles are a lot of trouble.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

I dont know who is reading this but I just write what comes to my mind. If that is a blog than I'm all over it. Well in todays world the idea of a moral compass may seem naive but let me try. All around us are the naysayers who brandish a stick of dual purpose. They hold to the rod as long as it is headed in their direction. Like a smorgasborg dinner they pick and choose, hardly waiting for the main course and never get the full effect of a superb meal. It allows them to have a decaying set of values with no absolutes. Family is distant to getting ahead and worrying about the other guy seems outdated and the "it's my life attitude" never takes into account those around them who may be in the bite of the line because of it.They fret about live and let live to the point they throw away century old and tried true principles and allow the social ills to become the norm. Because of this the America we know is slipping away.The great humanity of our people is watered down and the morals of the nation are down. The voices of reason are still out there but are being drowned out by popular names bent on destruction of all we hold dear.What are we to do is the by word. Some brave the storm and shout in the midst of the hurricane hoping the love of a good deed and a better way wont be drowned out. My hat is off to them. Look I'm an American by choice. I came her from Canada some forty years ago. To me it was the last bastion of free enterprize. Social engineering had not taken its toll and the rugged individualism was still stirring. The old idea of those that bit the hand that feeds them are doomed to lick the boots that kicks them was still wisdom. Any thinking man has always understood government was organized plunder. My Grandfather used to say when the legilature is in session we are all in peril. We the people still rings loud in my ear and it brings to mind the old czech proverb "Misfortune always comes in by the door that has been left open for them.This is a grat tragedy we now face. The politicians have left the door open and some Americans are starting to want a million dollar answer to a one dollar contribution.Here is why I am an American.I am an American because of the faces I see of brown, black, yellow, white and the in between.I am an American because of the beauty of this land and having travelled a lot of it found it to be breathtaking.
I am an American because of the freedom of choice and opportunities given a great people.
I am an American because the church bells ring and the prayers to the almighty are said in a large majority of homes and kept in their hearts.
I am an American because the laws we respect are worth keeping and the reign of the judges who are diluting them should be stopped period.
I am an American who loves to follow the advice of Abraham Lincoln. where we dont tear down another man's home but toil with our own hands and means to build our own.
I am an American in the morning, noon and night and love the flag of the United Sates and feel proud to see it flying.
I am an American who understands corruption but want to keep it away from the proven foundations we hold dear whatever the cost.
I am an American who rises each day in relative safety and I am willing to fight any nation or person who defiles that sanctity.
I am an American who stands for something and loves our constitution and gets upset with those who want to change it for a lessor document.
I am an American because right make might, thus I deplore those who keep trying to give our money away while attacking those who earn it.
I am an American who realizes the strength of the nation is in its people and defy those who keep trying to change its language borders and culture.
I am an American who believes in less government and finds more government than we can deal with. Subsidized everything is going on. Jim Cook calls it "The army of the entitled. It's a social mess that only the government could engineer" He is right The government makes allowances for everything; even spending their way to the poor house.
I am an American because of its past teachings and institutions and resent those who have taken over and allowed the inmates to run the asylum and their poluted ideas are weaking everything we hold dear.
I am an American becomes more than a saying , but means we must be of one mind and one heart when it comes to the well being of our nation. We must all shout from the rooftops "ENOUGH'
WE MUST ASK THE INTRUDERS TO LEAVE AND THE DESPOTS TO SHRIVEL AND THE SOCIAL ENGINEERS TO TAKE A HIKE. We must take back our nation from those who are taking away our rights an inch at a time. Standing up for America is the only way and to hell with Political Correctness and governemt beurocrats and politicians who break the law with impunity.Throw them in jail for what they are: Law breakers and corrupted officials.
Finally: Love America or leave it. To quote Will Rodgers: The difference between death and taxes is death doesn't get worse every time congress meets.......
Digby

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Showing Up People

The secret to happiness is different for everyone but the ingredients are all there for success if one wants to show up. Oh, I know I will be told there are handicaps and all sorts of human deficiencies and it is not a level playing field. However, the words I write are not for the people who have been born to privilege, not for those who have been gifted with the ability to restore and to retain and recall facts, words or situations at will. They have their challenges but they are not numbered amongst the people I speak about; at least not the majority of them. The people I write about come from poor circumstances, rich circumstances or from the great middle class but they all have one thing in common. Learning how to think and taking what thinking they have to a higher plain. They usually are almost there but it takes tremendous effort to find a place for themselves and then struggle not to be set aside or sifted out is a constant worry to them as others seem to come forth more qualified, more able, more noticeable. The showing up people are aware of their limitations and a great many of them are not willing to accept them and their energies are devoted to doing better. Some give in early and say, "What is the use?" Some stay with it for awhile but the frustration is more than some can stand and in the end, settle for less and even become invisible. Yet there are a vast number of them who know all these things and suffer setbacks, frustration, rejection, & ridicule which often accompanies their efforts. I have seen in my life where the lamps are burning late at night. Where the looks on their faces of disappointment when after studying, working and applying themselves, they fall short in spite of their efforts. They become discouraged as they look at the pages of the things they want to learn and find out after much effort and concentration it never seems to be enough. They are not slow, not without feeling all the emotions that come with hearing great masters of music, reading great books and finding such joy in them only not able to recall what they have done and read. It seems an elusive goal to them. Still they have ambition but it is difficult to help that ambition along when their memory and their ability seem to fail them. It is a hard thing they do but there are others who are well equipped, are their friends, stayed their friends and have been their friends over the rough spots, especially during the early years. Those friends should have special mention as they have made the difference by turning the light on for hundreds of thousands and in doing so made themselves a special place in heaven. Now to those who are the showing up folks I say, "Well done" and hope the words I say here add to your determination to keep on seeing things through. To those of you have given up showing up, try again and again and you will surprised at the difference that makes.

There are all kinds of theories and opinions as to why the ability to think, along with the brainpower, is given to some and not others. There are scores of ranges for testing our ability but in the end all have to admit it was the luck of the draw. The human spirit so many times demonstrates it is unstoppable and under the worst circumstances keeps going. If God is in the equation so much more is possible. There are those who will say to leave God out of it. I must say with all respect that is impossible. You may not believe but you cannot deny. You may not care but you can't ignore. If your truth will stand alone then so be it. Ours stands with God and we find comfort in knowing we are not alone; we are the showing up people.
"TALK TO ME. I'M YOUR MOTHER."

It was a moment to remember when she had that in your face look. She gave you a once over as she looked at you as if you didn't have a brain in your head. Talk to me I"m your mother was written all over her face but getting a word in edgewise was a luxary not given to us mere mortals. It was when you were quiet that the silence weighed down on her and she seized on it like a pin to a magnet. Then it was talk to me and her eyes were rivited on you just daring you to say a word. I liked to talk but knew better. She weighed what she was going to say as if the words were heavy and she had to spit them out. She usually lowered her glasses to place on her nose while she waited for just the right moment to take command of the situation. Then the glasses slipped back into position when the first words came out. Are you ready to listen? I'm only going to say this once. Which was never true! Talk to me often meant the neighbors; she dished out to them on a silver platter enough bull to grow a garden. They liked her but once back inside the walls of the house the tone changed and the manner was again aggressive. I always knew I loved her but I didn't like her much. She often fought with my dad and it was a royal battle. He drank to excess. I wonder why? Money was the issue and yesterday was quickly brought up again and again. She never said talk to me to him; she screamed at him as if us kids wern't even there. The walls were not only too thin but what bounced off of them turned the air blue and reddened the faces of all who heard. Still ,I couldn't bring myself to say an unkind word to her because she was staggering under the load of bringing up seven kids and a husband who wasn't much help.She worked two jobs. One where she sewed carpets and fixed drapes for a large department store six hours during the day and then went to her second job where she washed and scrubbed hallways and offices in a commercial building for another six hours. I used to go along when I could at night to lighten the load. God knows some battles are fought up hill and this son had no heart to add to his mother's burden. I know that talk to me I'm your mother was a cry to be anywhere but where she with a drunk for a husband who found less work every year. Leisure time was a luxuary she could seldom afford. Perhaps that's why her sharp tongue stung your pride and opened a hole for you to fall in.. She often cursed God and her unhappiness crowed a room. She needed more out of life and knew it wasn't going to happen. The disapointments came each day and talk to me I'm your mother seemed the only way to get back at the world.I listened far past my duty and coudn't give her a hug for she would have none of it.

The wearines wore her down and she often fell asleep darning socks or mending clothes. Her kids needs were relentless and the days dragged into nights and the nights were six hours of sleep on a good day. Talk to me I'm your kid was a luxury she never got around to.

Monday, January 5, 2009

I have decided to write in my blog again today. I know that I am running on but the works in my head seem to want come out. I think about people in the financial world and wonder where the real gold is. I think it is in a dusty corner somewhere called ethics and we have a host of people now who think it is entirely possible to pick up a cow pile by the clean end. I think about my sweetheart and how she she has transformed my life. I think about my faith and others faith and I am convinced that the helping hands we need are in each other. I try to work on the things we have in common and there is much there. A fellow by the name of Bill Bonner said: Sure it is comforting to have norman blood pressure or a normal cup of coffee or a normal nights sleep. But no one finds comfort in a normal divorce or a normal root canal or normal shouting match. I guess it's just load the wagon and dont worry about the mules.
I like the snow when it crunches under my feet. You know what the scriptures say; how beautiful upon the mountain are the feet of him who publisheth peace. I take great comfort in that since I have big feet. Heh! There is much going on in the world and I think about what Abraham Lincoln said: "Saying a cows tail is a fifth leg don't make it so"
Well the new year looks great. The banks are in more trouble, the car companies are in trouble; in fact corporations all over the place cannot get credit and when they do they have to pay street value rather than a decent interest. The feds are lowering interest rates practically to zero just like Japan did througout the nineties and they had seventeen years of recession.. We are moving down the same path. In the old soviet union the comrades used to say: "nothing is ever more certain than when it has been officially denied." Sound familiar? I am even starting to hear abut central planning and that it will work here. Ha! Well , thinking outside the box has never been a politicians long suit. In fact their advice is about as valuable as a bucketr of warm spit. I don't know about you folks but I have never been willing to pick up nickels in front of a moving freight train. Well, almost never!The world seems to be flying by. My faith is always in Christ and that helps to make me just a little kinder and less concerned with who is right but what is right. My grandkids are smarter than the average bear and the technology feeds their minds and puts them at a great advantage. My kids are really in tune with the computer world. When my son and my son in laws get together it is like watching a foreign movie with no subtitles. I catch a word now and then. Ah well , ours was a different time and I liked it fine. I often think about how it was and it seems to me we had absolute values or at least we treated them that way and we felt the earth stir under our feet and and the days were worth living.
I often think about flowers and sunshine and crumpled leaves and an early morning mist. I think about lazy summer days and cold winters. It is as clear to me as fallen woman and great as a first kiss and a fond farwell. It is so much more even though we had less. Sometimes I feel like I have missed the last stair in the dark.

I remember my first experience with religious things. I wanted more out of life and I didn't think I had much to give. It worked out as I tripped thru this world; falling and picking myself up and with some desperation kept on in spite of my limitations. Then as Helen Keller said: "put your face to the sunshine and the shadows fall behind. " She was right, there is a double sunrise and those of us that find it are mighty fortunate indeed.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

One dreams about so many things but the trick is to remember. More often than naught I dream and cant remember. Yet every once in a while I awake and it is so fresh in my mind I look beyond my self for understanding. A dream of life is to feel the road under your feet and hear the wind blowing across the meadow and wait for the sunlight to be just right. It comes with open arms just waiting to be received. It beckons all who will listen to the sounds and sites that are around us. It isn't far to the stream that flows gently or the barn sitting in a meadow with the sun shining on it. It is even closer to the Ravens cry and the meadowlark and to the startled ducks that fly off skimming over the land and water with wings fully spread . I always like to wake with the morning when all is still and to move my chair around on the porch folowing the sunlight. There is a cup of hot choclate in my hands and I sip it every so slowly to capture the taste and to feel the warmth of it on my hands. I watch every movement be it grass or trees or some bee with that sound that is not unfriendly. I hear a dog bark and there is more light coming and the air is crisp and my breathing is easy. A voice comes to me from the past and the words seem real as I remember getting my sister Pat laughing with me and her saying as only she could.
You dumb A** Maybe my sister expressed it that way because she loved me and couldn't say any other way. Well the morning breaks and the sounds change and there is more movement from the world. Motors start up and cars roar to life and the voices of others are resonating from many places. I arise then and return to get ready for the day. Just for a minute though I look back over the morning scene and tug on my hat just to say. Good Morning world and begin my day.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

My earliest recollection of something gone astray was when I was about five years old. There was an older lady who looked like she was always thirsty -- by that I mean her lips were parched and her hands looked dry. I saw her spit one time and she had spittle on her lips and some got on the coat she was wearing. We kids on that block had a great time making fun of her amongst ourselves but we were too afraid of her to do it openly. Amongst ourselves we imitated her walk.
She shuffled more than walked and always seemed to act like her left foot was not quite in step with her right. She had a high pitched voice and she had a dog that she yelled at once in a while for not coming when he was called or just to hear the sound of her own voice which was scratchy and piercing. We often saw here shuffling down the street speaking to her dog and keeping a watchful eye on us kids. One day we got brave and ran past her and the dog making noises that scared her and got the dog barking. She swore at us and shook her fist as if to let us know we had better not try it again. Well, being full of mishchief, we decided to dare each other to run up the stairs of the small apartment house she owned. The stairs went up two flights and and made a turn on the way up. The idea was to run up the stairs and back and make a loud noise. We figured she was too old to get to us in time and we could get away. While we dared each other there were no takers amongst us. Finally I said I would. I was just showing off and thought it would be easy. We watched her place and could see no sign of her outside and so I went for it. What I didn't know was the staircase could be accessed from back side. I was running hard and was half way up the stairs when a hand reached out and caught me by the back of my shirt. I was so startled that I let out a yell but to no avail. She had me in a tight grip and was pullling on my shirt, all the time yelling at me that she had me this time. No matter what I did I couldn't break free. I was so scared and she looked at me in a crazy sort of way and said, "So you want to make fun of an old lady, do you? Well,let's see what your mother has to say about this." To my amzement she swung me around like a rag doll and started down the steps. I knew what was in her mind now and begged her to let me go. She laughed and pulled on me some more. I knew my mother would not be up for this and the spanking I would get would stay with me for awhile. She dragged me over to our house and knocked on the door. Mom came to the door and the old lady said: "Look what I found running up and down my steps as if he owned the place."My mother looked at me and said to Mrs Spangler, "What should we do with him.? Perhaps we could call the police." Mrs Spangler caught on and said that would be a good idea and it would serve me right if I was put in jail. I was shaking by that time and promising never to do it again and crying that it was just in fun; we didn't mean anything by it. "We?" they both said. Who is we?" I realized I had put my foot in it and said quickly, "I mean me." Mom gave me a tongue lashing bringing up the Lord's name and cuffing me on the ear while Mrs Spangler encouraged her to give me a good spanking. Finally mom said, "You little !!!!!!!" and yelled at me to get in the house and wait for her there. Which I quickly did. It was several minutes before my mom came in but I could hear her saying good by to Mrs Spangler. "Thanks, Lydia, and be sure to let me know if he tries it again." I heard that cackle of the old lady and her parting words. "That will teach the little bugger!" That's when I decided to hide.

First Blog Post

This is Digby's first post. He's going to share great thoughts and stories about life and happiness and anything else.