Cousin

Such a great surprise this past week! My niece, Samantha came for a surprise visit.

It is so wonderful to see her, spend some time relaxing, shopping, sharing a family meal which we rarely get the opportunity to do. 

So many people have large families. Eight of us at the table this past Sunday is a crowd for us. Like my husband and daughter, my niece is an only child as well. 

My brother, Frank is her father. Her mother, Michele is from a large family so Samantha has many other cousins. However, she is our daughter Claire's only cousin.

It was also great to see our grand-babies getting to know their cousin on their mother's side.

It brought back memories of Samantha at their age, as she wrapped herself around Claire. It will not be too long before our girls do the same to Samantha. Some of the best things in life repeat through the generations.

 Time with family is exhausting

Fossil of Information

It is a little book, more than fifty years old, and a source of information. In the not too distant past, when you needed a word explained or a similar word, you used such a book. In the not too distant future however, generations to come will "google" the word dictionary.

When we were growing up, my brother, Frank, and I used this little Webster Dictionary which proclaimed itself to be "self pronouncing." It contained eighty-five thousand words. I remember carrying that little book around in my pencil case because it was easy to lose otherwise. We found it among our mother's things after she died. 

    Webster Dictionary

Today we carry dictionaries with us all the time in our phones and tablets. There is no excuse for improper word usage any more. Everything is so easy to verify. Phone and tablet cases have replaced pencil cases as holders. Some devices today are not much bigger than this little dictionary and have the potential to supply us with unlimited information compared to the limited content of the little book.

Imagine the words which are in common usage today that did not exist fifty years ago, words like emoticon, blog, transvestite, ginormous. Then consider the expansion of meaning for already common words like gay, high, wasted, hammered. Our little dictionary is long since obsolete.

What form will information take fifty years from now? By that time, our little dictionary will be a fossil. 

Favourite

He calls himself my favourite student and in some ways he may be right. His name is Melvin and he comes from Buchans Junction, Newfoundland. He is the oldest in his family and an avid woodsman. Melvin traveled on the bus to school and stayed in school for lunch every day. I had to do the same during my childhood so I always had an affinity for the bus students.

Melvin was quiet, perceptive, versed in outdoor life as was his father. He loved the woods and everything involved with it. Having grown up with a love of nature as well, I understood Melvin's love of outdoor life. He respected the environment and understood nature. This appealed to my love of science, especially biology. I think Melvin and I understood each other somehow.

I came to know Melvin during lunch times at school and he was in my class as well. He had so much potential. Anyone who respected and understood nature as he did was capable of doing well in life. I learned from him too. One Saturday, several other students and I went into the woods with Melvin. He showed us the animal traps set in the woods around his community, how and where to set them, how often to check them. He knew the species of trees and talked about the beavers and their dam. He could easily start a camp fire and survive in the woods if needed.

He finished school and left the Junction. We kept in touch for a time but eventually lost contact. Then several years ago, we made contact again. He used his ability, did well, married and had a son. He still hunts, fishes and periodically pans for gold in Alaska. After selling a business, life is less hectic and he and his wife travel every year.

There was/is a connection between Melvin and I, and in that sense he was one of my favourite students. This is for you, my friend!

Knee Length

For the last year I have suffered periodically with a painful right knee which I hurt doing exercise. Physiotherapy helps during those painful bouts. Between those times, I can do very light exercise but if I am not careful, I re-injure it. I need a more permanent fix. Meanwhile I am suffering through a painful bout now, having overdone it on the the treadmill again.

As anyone with knee or hip problems knows, getting in and out of a vehicle is very difficult. Entrance and exit can be excruciatingly painful and it reduces the number of times one is willing to suffer the pain. Not only do you reduce the number of outings in your vehicle, you also invent ways to cope, especially if you are driving.  

Recently I drove to my latest physiotherapy appointment. When I parked the car in the limited space available, it was a major, painful effort to get out of the vehicle. Our car has unintended, self-closing doors and that day the door insisted on slamming into the good leg which was planted in a puddle of water. I attempted to lift the bad leg out of the car but to no avail. The anticipation of the pain almost precluded the effort. I was frustrated and ready to swear verbally which I was already doing mentally. Meanwhile the door had hit the other leg several times by now as I continued to push it open.

In addition, the effort to lift the bad leg meant that I hit the horn somehow which alerted others in the area. Several attempts and several horn blasts later, I decided to lie in sideways across the passenger seat, keep my good leg out the door, and with some painful effort, ease the bad leg out as well. Of course the self-closing door hit both legs then. It took about five minutes to maneuver out of the vehicle.

At the end of the physiotherapy session, I mentioned to the therapist how painful it was to enter and exit the car. He looked at me and said casually, "Put the seat back."

The Wonder of Siblings

Watching our two granddaughters has given us a whole new appreciation of siblings. We three in our family have but one sibling among us, my brother, Frank. We have little experience of the sibling dynamic and are thoroughly enjoying the antics of the little girls who now share our bloodline.

The manipulation of the other to get your own way,

the discovery of the other as a playmate and to share experiences.

The shared giggles.

The mimicry,

the sharing of meals 

or having a swig. 

The rough times 

and the good times while learning to share.

The competition for attention and the iPad.

And they are only two and four years old so more glorious discoveries await.

The Promise of April

The month of April in the Northern Hemisphere always has such promise. Maybe it is the end of the snow and the anticipation of the warmth to come. The strength of the sun, more hours of daylight, the return of the vacationing birds, and diminishing snow banks all make for a hopeful time. This has not always been the case for our family however. April was the month when my brother, Frank and I lost our parents, with twenty-two years between their deaths.

When our father died, Mom, Dad and Frank lived in Mount Pearl, Newfoundland. Dad died of cancer, which was undiagnosed until it was too late. Treatments gave him a few extra months to say goodbye and his expected death was an end to suffering.

                   Dad, Claire and Mom

Rick, Claire and I spent Easter with them that year. We returned home and Dad died two days later. Our daughter, Claire was five at the time, and had seen Dad in bed, barely able to speak, tossing and turning, swollen. She did not understand what was happening.

When Dad died, we returned to St. John's for the funeral and Claire accompanied us to the church service but not the funeral home. We talked to her about Poppy having died, and what that meant. Claire was very quiet but observant of the events.

On our return home, Claire was different. She cried when we left for work, clinging to us as we left the house. This was so unlike Claire.

Soon we realized that Claire feared she would never see us again if she left us as well. She feared our deaths too. I talked with her about Poppy's sickness, what he was like when he was sick and that her father and I were not sick like Poppy. Claire was satisfied with that reassurance.

 

Twenty-two years later, Claire and Ben were married, living in England and home for a visit. My mother, living with an abdominal aortic aneurysm, died suddenly as Claire and I held her. Claire's training as a nurse helped both Mom and me that day. The little girl who was so fearful after Poppy's passing was a rock dealing with her grandmother's death.

Yes, April has such promise.

Mom and Dad... Often in our thoughts and always in our hearts.

Jinkers And Other Things

Recently I was reminded of the word 'jinker' as it is used in Newfoundland. I have not heard the word in years so it brought a smile. People are referred to as jinkers when they appear to bring bad luck. For example, a person entering a room where people are playing cards might be told, "You're the real jinker," if the cards seem to move out of one's favour with the person's arrival.

                

Then there's Rick's grandfather, Ern Smith, who had a fix it shop in Corner Brook, Newfoundland. He worked as a locksmith and often spent hours picking a lock. Sometimes he kicked at the air as he walked out of the shop and up the stairs. In his frustration with a particular lock, he would say,  "Get out! Get out!"

When queried about the action, Ern said, "I'm kicking the devil out of the shop."

Apparently the devil likes to frustrate locksmiths.

                             Ern Smith

Finally, Ern did not earn enough as a locksmith and expanded his business to survive financially. He also upholstered furniture, which paid better than the time-consuming and less lucrative locksmithing. In addition, Ern invested in a saw file, and also sharpened skates for the community. He sang as he worked on the saws, enjoying the work immensely.

Strains of the traditional Newfoundland folksong She's Like The Swallow could be heard coming from the basement any time Ern worked on a saw. After his death, his daughter, Marie, swears that she heard her father filing and singing in the basement. She smiled and left him to it.

Thank you to Aunt Marie Smith for sharing the memories of her father. Thank you to Jeff Smith for the picture of the sign.