A Nod To Canada
In My Bloodstream: Lisinopril, Amlodopine, Omeprazole, Tamsulosin
On The Stereo: Marry Me: Amanda Marshall (Canadian)
Interesting times.
My bride has been home with me for the past week. I am not yet murdered. I do not know why. It might well be a deserved act. She continues to give me Lizzie Borden looks. Paranoid? Perhaps. Perhaps not.
St. Patrick's day has come and gone. In the past, we have golfed in a celebratory club event, and many of he people who live on the course have provided green beer, along the way. Not so this year. All club events have been cancelled and social distancing is de rigeur. There are still Irish signs spread throughout the neighborhoods. Some say Erin Go Bragh. I am promoting a new sign. Erin Go Braghless. Hope it catches on elsewhere. We have it instituted here, already. A long time ago.
Equipment provided by Kathleen and her Aunt Helen. Wild women of renown.
I want to talk, this week, about several of my Canadian friends. And there is reason.
Ottawa is Canada's capital. It is a pretty city. More so in late spring and early summer. By that time the snow might have melted, and the ice should be gone from the Rideau River, which meanders its way through the city's center. History tells us that it was chosen, as it rested half-way between Toronto and Montreal. Truth, as I believe it, is that this city was so far north of the American border, and so difficult to reach in winter, that there would be no chance of invasion from their southern neighbors. Believe what you will.
It was there, in 1990, that we were invited by Scott Paper, to the finals of their Tournament of Hearts. The event was for the championship of women's curling. We were honored to have been seated at the host's seats - the best in the house. If you are a curling fan.
Joining Kathleen and I, were Dick and Carol Frenz, one of our Vice-Presidents, at the time living in Winnipeg, I think. If not, it was some other equally cold city. I did not really know Dick very well, and it was our first meeting with his bride.
We were staying at the Chateau Laurier, one of Canada's oldest and most renowned hotels. A massive edifice, with a grand entrance and lobby, with hallways wide enough to park two cars. It was there that we began our friendship.
Kat and I were in our room, waiting for Dick and Carol to arrive, and there was a knock at the door. Kath opened it, and, without an introduction, they poured into our room. Dick's face was flushed and Carol immediately spread herself over our bed, in tears. Laughing. Such laughter that she could barely speak. A strange way to begin the evening. Kath and I shared glances. These were crazy people. Well dressed and good looking. But wacko, without a doubt.
The story slowly began to unfold. As they had been walking to our room, Dick had managed to blow out an enormous fart. So loud, that two ladies came from the opposite direction and stopped them, to ask if he was alright. That began their laughter. It took a while, but they finally outed the whole story. We then realized that these were not weird people at all. In fact, they were spectacularly open and self-effacing. We started our time together as business associates and quickly became real, honest to goodness friends.
Kath and Dick exiting subterranean Lisbon.
We traveled together often on business. In Portugal, we shared fun adventures. To get a scenic ocean picture, one time, Dick burst through our room, while I was on the throne, never hesitating or worrying. Another day the three of us encouraged him to say hello to a small group of Germans. He did, in their language. And they told him to fuck off. He was embarrassed and I was angry. He is the best of man and they were not polite enough to find his goodness.
Our children were friends, despite the distance between us. Carol and Dick have visited us and been with us for many special occasions. He sends me a note of thanks after almost every blog.
The two on the left, at Kristin and Doug's wedding. With other wonderful friends.
How could we not love this couple? They are genuine. They are sincere. And they will forever be our friends.
This week, our Canadian friends were advised by their insurers that they were to be back in Canada by Sunday, or they would be without medical coverage. So, our community is emptying out. With some sense of urgency. We said goodby to Donna, Kat's cousin, and her hubby, Paul. We see them regularly for pizza and bridge. At least we have been. Now they are making the long drive back to Kenora. They live in a cottage on an island, and cannot get there until the ice thaws. There is an ice road in the winter but they need to wait and go by water, later in the spring. This was all pretty sudden, so they will stay at a friend's home for the short term.
We were sad to see them go. There were none of our regular hugs and kisses. It was a most solemn occasion. Especially for such an honest, loving, joyous group as we are.
However, we fully expect to see them back here when they return next fall, if not sooner. There is a family wedding for their daughter, planned for this summer, but this pandemic may well interrupt their plans. We will see.
In the meantime, we have access to their house, here, and plan to raid it for toilet paper, if things continue to get worse. Always a bright side.
Shot from their car, traveling through Minnesota. You think they are happy going home early?
More upsetting for me, was the exit of our long time friends, the Frenches. I have known Jim and Janis forever. One of their sons, Jeff, and his family have moved from Orillia, where they lived, to Calgary. So there will be more travel required by Jim and Janis to see their grandkids. To accommodate that, they have sold their Timber Pines house. They will not make that regular trip south for the winter anymore.
Our families are deeply entwined. Our kids, and theirs, have spent summers and vacationed together. Jayson graduated Alabama Law School, and spent most of his free time at our house. For company, meals, golf and to watch sports on television.
Both boys and their families have visited their parents here, in Timber Pines. They always come and visit. They are our extended family. There will not likely be any more visits from them.
These go back a few(?) years. Artistic license.
When we said goodby to Jim and Janis, it was honestly foreboding. I know they might not have that on their minds. But it haunts me. The confluence of age, travel, finances, health, and Covid 19, does not shine a bright light on our future and the opportunity to see the French family again.
Every year when they arrived, they brought us a bottle of maple syrup, produced on a farm, near their home. On their departure to Canada, they left us the last of their bottle. I make pancakes and bacon every Sunday morning. And have done so for years. We will use that syrup on our pancakes for the foreseeable Sunday mornings to come.
And we will think fondly of the French family. All of them.
No hugs. No kisses. Too much sadness.
After the world wars, and after the great depression, people changed. Markedly. The world was forced to take a long pause, and even a little regression, before it found its footing, and summon the courage to march forward again. There is no reason to believe that we too, will be forced to follow suit, after this battle ends. I hope we recover as well as did our parents, and their parents before them.
Please let me, and all of us, know that you are alright. I need you. And we all need each other. Let us not fail in that simple task of holding each other in our lives. Goodness lives on through our actions.
jrobinmullen@gmail.com
And a late bit of (non) news. Saw Dr. Harrington and will have to return to Moffitt in two weeks to have the stitches removed. They had not properly prepared themselves to leave this body. Hard to believe. Other of my parts have been jumping ship for years.
And the results of my pathology were not yet complete.
On The Stereo: Marry Me: Amanda Marshall (Canadian)
Interesting times.
My bride has been home with me for the past week. I am not yet murdered. I do not know why. It might well be a deserved act. She continues to give me Lizzie Borden looks. Paranoid? Perhaps. Perhaps not.
St. Patrick's day has come and gone. In the past, we have golfed in a celebratory club event, and many of he people who live on the course have provided green beer, along the way. Not so this year. All club events have been cancelled and social distancing is de rigeur. There are still Irish signs spread throughout the neighborhoods. Some say Erin Go Bragh. I am promoting a new sign. Erin Go Braghless. Hope it catches on elsewhere. We have it instituted here, already. A long time ago.
I want to talk, this week, about several of my Canadian friends. And there is reason.
Ottawa is Canada's capital. It is a pretty city. More so in late spring and early summer. By that time the snow might have melted, and the ice should be gone from the Rideau River, which meanders its way through the city's center. History tells us that it was chosen, as it rested half-way between Toronto and Montreal. Truth, as I believe it, is that this city was so far north of the American border, and so difficult to reach in winter, that there would be no chance of invasion from their southern neighbors. Believe what you will.
It was there, in 1990, that we were invited by Scott Paper, to the finals of their Tournament of Hearts. The event was for the championship of women's curling. We were honored to have been seated at the host's seats - the best in the house. If you are a curling fan.
Joining Kathleen and I, were Dick and Carol Frenz, one of our Vice-Presidents, at the time living in Winnipeg, I think. If not, it was some other equally cold city. I did not really know Dick very well, and it was our first meeting with his bride.
We were staying at the Chateau Laurier, one of Canada's oldest and most renowned hotels. A massive edifice, with a grand entrance and lobby, with hallways wide enough to park two cars. It was there that we began our friendship.
Kat and I were in our room, waiting for Dick and Carol to arrive, and there was a knock at the door. Kath opened it, and, without an introduction, they poured into our room. Dick's face was flushed and Carol immediately spread herself over our bed, in tears. Laughing. Such laughter that she could barely speak. A strange way to begin the evening. Kath and I shared glances. These were crazy people. Well dressed and good looking. But wacko, without a doubt.
The story slowly began to unfold. As they had been walking to our room, Dick had managed to blow out an enormous fart. So loud, that two ladies came from the opposite direction and stopped them, to ask if he was alright. That began their laughter. It took a while, but they finally outed the whole story. We then realized that these were not weird people at all. In fact, they were spectacularly open and self-effacing. We started our time together as business associates and quickly became real, honest to goodness friends.
We traveled together often on business. In Portugal, we shared fun adventures. To get a scenic ocean picture, one time, Dick burst through our room, while I was on the throne, never hesitating or worrying. Another day the three of us encouraged him to say hello to a small group of Germans. He did, in their language. And they told him to fuck off. He was embarrassed and I was angry. He is the best of man and they were not polite enough to find his goodness.
Our children were friends, despite the distance between us. Carol and Dick have visited us and been with us for many special occasions. He sends me a note of thanks after almost every blog.
How could we not love this couple? They are genuine. They are sincere. And they will forever be our friends.
This week, our Canadian friends were advised by their insurers that they were to be back in Canada by Sunday, or they would be without medical coverage. So, our community is emptying out. With some sense of urgency. We said goodby to Donna, Kat's cousin, and her hubby, Paul. We see them regularly for pizza and bridge. At least we have been. Now they are making the long drive back to Kenora. They live in a cottage on an island, and cannot get there until the ice thaws. There is an ice road in the winter but they need to wait and go by water, later in the spring. This was all pretty sudden, so they will stay at a friend's home for the short term.
We were sad to see them go. There were none of our regular hugs and kisses. It was a most solemn occasion. Especially for such an honest, loving, joyous group as we are.
However, we fully expect to see them back here when they return next fall, if not sooner. There is a family wedding for their daughter, planned for this summer, but this pandemic may well interrupt their plans. We will see.
In the meantime, we have access to their house, here, and plan to raid it for toilet paper, if things continue to get worse. Always a bright side.
More upsetting for me, was the exit of our long time friends, the Frenches. I have known Jim and Janis forever. One of their sons, Jeff, and his family have moved from Orillia, where they lived, to Calgary. So there will be more travel required by Jim and Janis to see their grandkids. To accommodate that, they have sold their Timber Pines house. They will not make that regular trip south for the winter anymore.
Our families are deeply entwined. Our kids, and theirs, have spent summers and vacationed together. Jayson graduated Alabama Law School, and spent most of his free time at our house. For company, meals, golf and to watch sports on television.
Both boys and their families have visited their parents here, in Timber Pines. They always come and visit. They are our extended family. There will not likely be any more visits from them.
These go back a few(?) years. Artistic license.
When we said goodby to Jim and Janis, it was honestly foreboding. I know they might not have that on their minds. But it haunts me. The confluence of age, travel, finances, health, and Covid 19, does not shine a bright light on our future and the opportunity to see the French family again.
Every year when they arrived, they brought us a bottle of maple syrup, produced on a farm, near their home. On their departure to Canada, they left us the last of their bottle. I make pancakes and bacon every Sunday morning. And have done so for years. We will use that syrup on our pancakes for the foreseeable Sunday mornings to come.
And we will think fondly of the French family. All of them.
No hugs. No kisses. Too much sadness.
After the world wars, and after the great depression, people changed. Markedly. The world was forced to take a long pause, and even a little regression, before it found its footing, and summon the courage to march forward again. There is no reason to believe that we too, will be forced to follow suit, after this battle ends. I hope we recover as well as did our parents, and their parents before them.
Please let me, and all of us, know that you are alright. I need you. And we all need each other. Let us not fail in that simple task of holding each other in our lives. Goodness lives on through our actions.
jrobinmullen@gmail.com
And a late bit of (non) news. Saw Dr. Harrington and will have to return to Moffitt in two weeks to have the stitches removed. They had not properly prepared themselves to leave this body. Hard to believe. Other of my parts have been jumping ship for years.
And the results of my pathology were not yet complete.
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