The Wee Small Hours

When I first  left  Scotland, the least expensive  travel from London to Scotland was  by overnight bus. It left Victoria  bus station at  eight in the evening and arrived in Glasgow about  ten in the morning.

In the wee small hours the bus would roll  through narrow streets of sleeping villages, mountains and  vast expanse of fields.

Here and there, a light would shine  in an upstairs window,feet from the  bus window. I always wondered what  was happening  that had a family awake when  the world  around was in deep sleep.

In those days babies were more often  born at home, usually in the night. Equally often, it seemed  life would come to an end in the night and a final  breath drawn.

My kids and I spent a summer camped out at Preston Lake. We came home if there was a storm,  to do laundry and at the week-end when the beach and amenities were  packed with day trippers.

I spent long days stretched on a chair,  watching the kids  in the water.During the week, we  had the place to ourselves.There was lots of  action they could be at,other than the beach. Sometimes, I could close my eyes and  just listen.

At the beginning of the summer, it seemed  the air was throbbing and humming.I could  even see it shimmer above the sand.  In the last week of  summer, all  was silent and still. .

Without offering any kind of learned  scientific jargon, it seems to me, life and the earth has a combined rhythm. A time for living and a time for dying. A time when breathing slows and sometimes stops.

There's always a point in an election ,when something brings me to an abrupt halt. Long enough to  wonder:  why am I doing this?

It was yesterday.

I made a phone call, stated my name and launched into the reason for my call. The elderly voice at the other end  gave me pause.  I  realised I had the wrong number and apologized.He  had to be an Aurora resident. I didn't cut the conversation off. I've  found people mostly  cordial and willing to exchange civilities and elderly folk pleased to chat.

He was  more than willing. He said I  contributed nothing to this Council or the one before it. He had nothing good to say about the current Mayor either  but he charged me with creating the same problem for the previous Mayor.

He told me he is a lot older than I am (83 today) and  spent 42 years in business and knew his stuff. He told me he had  had a visit  from and made a contribution to a mayoralty candidate and had his sign on his lawn...twice.

He couldn't prove it wasn't kids who stole the sign but he was sure it wasn't.

I suggested he should speak to  the former Mayor and get the real deal. We did exchange a few civilities  but he concluded by noting, I shouldn't feel sorry for him, he has lots of interests and activities and  considering it was a wrong number I'd spent a lot of time talking to him.

My daughter dropped off a campaign leaflet  in his mail box this morning wishing him a Happy Birthday. 

Of course I know he's not alone. He is intelligent,of strong opinion and was reacting to what he had heard.  

I put the phone down and thought. WTH. I gotta tell you. He  pretty well spoiled  my day.

It's that kind of shared, common experience that  brings political candidates together in what is frequently referred to as "The Old Boys Club" (before old girls got involved)

I remember  the late Stew Burnett , the Reeve of the Township of Whitchurch,who sat beside me in the County Council, telling me that's why we shouldn't  attack each other's reputation. 

The call I'd been trying to make was to St. Maximillian Kolbe High School. I attended the Awards Ceremony the night before but  didn't get my hands on a program. I didn't join the procession for dignitaries. These events tend to be lengthy.There's a limit to how long I can sit on a small hard seat.

I didn't want to be obvious  leaving in the middle of the program. I sat elsewhere and  left at 8.30pm.

I planned to write a post on the exemplary performance of a large  percentage of  the student body which of course is a credit to the teachers  and the Spirit of the school. I needed a program to get it right.

I still haven't got the program.