Tuesday, May 22, 2012
No Apology Due
Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "Is This A
Ringer":
Whoah, mule!
My comment about playing with the kids in the park last year on the Sunday afternoon has taken on a new face. Sorry I even brought it up. The idea of being able to enjoy the park in harmony with the Jazzfest (that was very well run last year) was my point. I don't care about previous years, as the mistakes made by a few organizers have been corrected. I am usually a big supporter of yours Evelyn, and look forward to your comments. But this last post shows a side of you I'm not sure I want to encourage.
************************************************************
It seems the above comment disappeared. I can not locate it anywhere. It's a reason it has been copied and pasted. The other is because I want to respond:
The writer has the advantage of knowing who I am. I do not have the reverse advantage.
The original comment reads to me like a defense of the fence around the park.
Fencing people out of their own park is abhorrent to me. It is a big deal. Until now, I have been the sole voice in opposition. I knew I was not alone. I'm nothing if not persistent.
Sometimes it takes a while for a point to finally register but so long as I have a voice, I have no intention of giving up until that fence is recognized for what it is and is no longer.
When I receive a comment that seems to say the fence is no big deal, I can't afford to ignore that.
I won't apologize for doing my job.
That side of me has always been there.
.
Whoah, mule!
My comment about playing with the kids in the park last year on the Sunday afternoon has taken on a new face. Sorry I even brought it up. The idea of being able to enjoy the park in harmony with the Jazzfest (that was very well run last year) was my point. I don't care about previous years, as the mistakes made by a few organizers have been corrected. I am usually a big supporter of yours Evelyn, and look forward to your comments. But this last post shows a side of you I'm not sure I want to encourage.
************************************************************
It seems the above comment disappeared. I can not locate it anywhere. It's a reason it has been copied and pasted. The other is because I want to respond:
The writer has the advantage of knowing who I am. I do not have the reverse advantage.
The original comment reads to me like a defense of the fence around the park.
Fencing people out of their own park is abhorrent to me. It is a big deal. Until now, I have been the sole voice in opposition. I knew I was not alone. I'm nothing if not persistent.
Sometimes it takes a while for a point to finally register but so long as I have a voice, I have no intention of giving up until that fence is recognized for what it is and is no longer.
When I receive a comment that seems to say the fence is no big deal, I can't afford to ignore that.
I won't apologize for doing my job.
That side of me has always been there.
.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Is This A Ringer
Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "Occupy
Aurora Town Park":
Hoe Down is a ticket only event on private property. Rib Fest IS partially fenced AND patrolled. I sat with my kids last year enjoying the playground and water park and listened to some of the music for free. It was no big deal. There was lots of parking in front of the water park at that time, and it was a lovely afternoon in the sun. Hope to do it again this year.
******************
Is this a ringer. It suggests the fencing off the park, is no big deal.
A family enjoyed the playground, the water park and the music for free and there was plenty of parking at that side of the park.
They hope to do it again this year.
The last part makes me suspicious. If the "jazz" bash is so successful, one would imagine parking would be full all the time. It's not that plentiful around the park.
A thought has occurred; supposing soccer or baseball associations decided they could get revenue from charging admission to tournaments.
They could put up a fence around the park. Rent space to vendors. Have a beer garden and a food purveyor and charge them a percentage of their take.
Minor hockey does it . The difference is the fee they pay is not just for ice.They have dressing rooms ,wash rooms .spectators'
seating , lighting and all that other stuff.
Hey! Wait a minute! The jazz bash gets most of that .
So how would the town refuse minor sports associations a request to fence and a waiver of user fees
.
"Oh Bless my soul,No! You can't have that. You are not Cultural. . You are not a recipient of a Trillium Grant. Heritage Canada has not Granted you. . You have not brought fame to Aurora."
Baseball is probably more Canadian Heritage than Jamaican Jazz but that's an argument they would have to take up with Heritage Canada or the Honorable M.P. Lois Brown when she gets back from foreign travels.
Hoe Down is a ticket only event on private property. Rib Fest IS partially fenced AND patrolled. I sat with my kids last year enjoying the playground and water park and listened to some of the music for free. It was no big deal. There was lots of parking in front of the water park at that time, and it was a lovely afternoon in the sun. Hope to do it again this year.
******************
Is this a ringer. It suggests the fencing off the park, is no big deal.
A family enjoyed the playground, the water park and the music for free and there was plenty of parking at that side of the park.
They hope to do it again this year.
The last part makes me suspicious. If the "jazz" bash is so successful, one would imagine parking would be full all the time. It's not that plentiful around the park.
A thought has occurred; supposing soccer or baseball associations decided they could get revenue from charging admission to tournaments.
They could put up a fence around the park. Rent space to vendors. Have a beer garden and a food purveyor and charge them a percentage of their take.
Minor hockey does it . The difference is the fee they pay is not just for ice.They have dressing rooms ,wash rooms .spectators'
seating , lighting and all that other stuff.
Hey! Wait a minute! The jazz bash gets most of that .
So how would the town refuse minor sports associations a request to fence and a waiver of user fees
.
"Oh Bless my soul,No! You can't have that. You are not Cultural. . You are not a recipient of a Trillium Grant. Heritage Canada has not Granted you. . You have not brought fame to Aurora."
Baseball is probably more Canadian Heritage than Jamaican Jazz but that's an argument they would have to take up with Heritage Canada or the Honorable M.P. Lois Brown when she gets back from foreign travels.
Read And Tell
The editorial below appeared in May 17th edition of The Banner. I want you to read it carefully and tell me what, if anything, strikes a negative chord.
Sitting on nest egg makes little sense
ISSUE: Aurora has $33M waiting to be spent after 2005 hydro sale.Aurora council is in a position many other local councils would envy: It has a big pile of money to spend.
The town sold Aurora Hydro in 2005 and has $33 million from that sale waiting to be spent.
Council of the day decided to save that money until it could determine a use that would provide the greatest benefit to the community.
Now, at the request of Councillor Evelyn Buck, council has directed staff to consult the community to find out what residents want to use the money for.
That’s a great first step.
There’s no good reason for the town to sit on the money, as there are plenty of areas of need.
Asking the public to weigh in on how to spend it is obviously essential, as it’s public money being spent.
Some people, Ms Buck among them, have talked about using at least part of the money to build a new community facility.
As council is seriously considering building a new youth centre, that is one place some of the money could be spent.
However, as Aurora treasurer Dan Elliott pointed out, building the facility is only part of the cost, as operating a large facility can cost hundreds of thousands of dollars per year.
While some of the money should be spent on a project with a lasting, visible legacy, such as a youth centre, most of it would be better spent on what many people take for granted: maintaining what already exists.
As noted in this year’s final budget report from Mr. Elliott: “The ongoing aging of infrastructure, together with the past deferrals of projects, continues to place pressure on the capital budget and reserve funds and on staff to deliver effective and satisfactory performance from our infrastructure inventory.”
Aurora is not alone in this respect, as municipalities across not only Ontario but Canada face significant challenges finding the money to repair and replace aging roads, sewers, buildings and more.
While it might not be as sexy as building a new theatre or arena, spending most of the $33 million on infrastructure repairs and replacements would ease pressure on the tax levy and town reserves, allowing council to keep tax increases low while maintaining or improving services.
BOTTOM LINE: Taxpayers would benefit most if Aurora Hydro sale money went to infrastructure.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
It Will Get Better
Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "Accountability...The Theme Of This Post.":
Have you ever considered your knowledge and experience to be a disadvantage because quite clearly you are seriously challenged to get your fellow members on side, Last term there was no hope at all with all the personal attacks, animosity and jealousy that your knowledge garnered, This term the air around your circles is smelling of sweet congeniality and willingness to do what’s right for the tax payers yet still you are faced with resistance to cut the fat, the frills, the 0 value added initiatives and get back to basic government over a mere 50 + thousand minions
******************
It is not a new experience. Fighting for common sense to prevail has,surprisingly, never been easy.
The best years were when I was Mayor.
Obviously knowledge and experience would have to be seen as an asset. It's another one of those things that never change.
The anomaly we have had in two recent elections was a huge turnover in council membership.
The norm is for most incumbents to be re-elected. One or two newbies have the benefit of obscurity while learnig the process.They have an opportunity to acquire skills without drawing attention to the lack thereof.
They still have to exercise judgment and vote. Experienced Councillors would still have differences in the past. But background to issues would rarely be challenged.
Municipal staff generally represent continuity. Institutional history resides with long experience. We do not currently have that advantage. Upheaval and disruption have been the operative terms.
Current Councillors spend an inordinate amount of time in discussion with staff. I can't fault them. They dont have experience and they are trying to acquire it fast
Time is of the essence. So for now, influence of the administration is out of whack.
Council's role is authority and control. How is that exercised if constantly seeking advice from the people under council's authority.A council collectively light on knowledge and experience is a definite disadvantage.
Normally even that might not be too severe a problem.
In the last term we lost experienced staff. We lost continuity. We lost our institutional history.
At the same time we picked up a reputation for a being a bad place of employment.
Ontario has four hundred and forty-four municipalities.It's a family of sorts. Bad news travels fast.
We are in the process of rebuilding a reputation. Rebuilding is harder than building.
I do at times despair of ever returning to our traditional political character. Aurora has always been feisty But perish the thought of not even trying.
We do have a council that means to do a good job.
I am nothing if not persistent.
And I have you.
You must tell your Mayor and Councillors, regularly, what you expect. Call them. E-mail them. Greet them in the street and in the supermarket.
Wherever you see them, engage them. Remind them why they were elected.
Have you ever considered your knowledge and experience to be a disadvantage because quite clearly you are seriously challenged to get your fellow members on side, Last term there was no hope at all with all the personal attacks, animosity and jealousy that your knowledge garnered, This term the air around your circles is smelling of sweet congeniality and willingness to do what’s right for the tax payers yet still you are faced with resistance to cut the fat, the frills, the 0 value added initiatives and get back to basic government over a mere 50 + thousand minions
******************
It is not a new experience. Fighting for common sense to prevail has,surprisingly, never been easy.
The best years were when I was Mayor.
Obviously knowledge and experience would have to be seen as an asset. It's another one of those things that never change.
The anomaly we have had in two recent elections was a huge turnover in council membership.
The norm is for most incumbents to be re-elected. One or two newbies have the benefit of obscurity while learnig the process.They have an opportunity to acquire skills without drawing attention to the lack thereof.
They still have to exercise judgment and vote. Experienced Councillors would still have differences in the past. But background to issues would rarely be challenged.
Municipal staff generally represent continuity. Institutional history resides with long experience. We do not currently have that advantage. Upheaval and disruption have been the operative terms.
Current Councillors spend an inordinate amount of time in discussion with staff. I can't fault them. They dont have experience and they are trying to acquire it fast
Time is of the essence. So for now, influence of the administration is out of whack.
Council's role is authority and control. How is that exercised if constantly seeking advice from the people under council's authority.A council collectively light on knowledge and experience is a definite disadvantage.
Normally even that might not be too severe a problem.
In the last term we lost experienced staff. We lost continuity. We lost our institutional history.
At the same time we picked up a reputation for a being a bad place of employment.
Ontario has four hundred and forty-four municipalities.It's a family of sorts. Bad news travels fast.
We are in the process of rebuilding a reputation. Rebuilding is harder than building.
I do at times despair of ever returning to our traditional political character. Aurora has always been feisty But perish the thought of not even trying.
We do have a council that means to do a good job.
I am nothing if not persistent.
And I have you.
You must tell your Mayor and Councillors, regularly, what you expect. Call them. E-mail them. Greet them in the street and in the supermarket.
Wherever you see them, engage them. Remind them why they were elected.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Off To A Budget Meeting
Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "A Lively Exchange":
It looks as though the bulk of Aurora taxpayers don't have a word of protest. Was nothing learned over the past few years ? Guess not. Ignorance can be bliss.
********************
I don't agree that the bulk of Aurora taxpayers don't have a word of protest That's why they gave me the job again despite all that was done to destroy my reputation.
Certainly a great deal was learned over the past few years from the blogs which would not have been known otherwise.
But there is truth in the last sentence.
When people don't believe they have any control over events,they make a conscious choice not to pay attention. That would be the fifty per cent who regularly do not participate in municipal elections.
I find myself irritated by the amount of time and space given to events in foreign lands over which I have no control, at the expense of events happening right here in our own neck of the woods.
We had a fantastic turn-out to the Santa Claus parade on Saturday evening.Thousands of people lined the route. I can hardly believe the number of small children we have in our community once again.
I'm off to a day long budget session ,starting at nine o'clock,finishing at four.Hopefully. Seven hours of hammering and chiselling at figures is a tedious task.Not so tedious, if a difference is being made.
Catch you later
It looks as though the bulk of Aurora taxpayers don't have a word of protest. Was nothing learned over the past few years ? Guess not. Ignorance can be bliss.
********************
I don't agree that the bulk of Aurora taxpayers don't have a word of protest That's why they gave me the job again despite all that was done to destroy my reputation.
Certainly a great deal was learned over the past few years from the blogs which would not have been known otherwise.
But there is truth in the last sentence.
When people don't believe they have any control over events,they make a conscious choice not to pay attention. That would be the fifty per cent who regularly do not participate in municipal elections.
I find myself irritated by the amount of time and space given to events in foreign lands over which I have no control, at the expense of events happening right here in our own neck of the woods.
We had a fantastic turn-out to the Santa Claus parade on Saturday evening.Thousands of people lined the route. I can hardly believe the number of small children we have in our community once again.
I'm off to a day long budget session ,starting at nine o'clock,finishing at four.Hopefully. Seven hours of hammering and chiselling at figures is a tedious task.Not so tedious, if a difference is being made.
Catch you later
.
.. The children were pre-school . Since
she did not speak Korean, the objective was to introduce them to
English. Obviously that was a challenge.
Since the twins are first children, there was no experience with mothering a single child.Twins are the norm.For them, twins are the norm. For someone watching, twins are amazing.
They are not identical. They are not alike. Not in looks, personality,size, agility, sound or anything one can imagine. But they are twins. They have been to-gether every moment of their existence.Nothing they do or that happens to them, happens separately.They have shared every experience.
They are happy, healthy, boisterous, inquisitive, quick and expressive.Twice as much in each as a single child. It seems being two has that effect.
They are a joy to watch. Which is a good thing. Because nothing much else can get done.
I don't have time to edit either
Sunday, December 26, 2010
A Fire In The Hearth
So, on Christmas Eve I turned out the light, put my feet up, watched
the fire burning and listened to the endless rendition of Christmas
songs. The wood burned fast, flames licked high up the chimney and every
now and then a two pointed poker appeared and re-arranged half burned
logs or a hand put another in place.
Flames licked high and burning wood wood sparked loudly.It was very realistic except the pale bricks at the back of the hearth bore no trace of smoke.
I almost imagined my cheeks were hot. Except,I could not of course smell burning wood. Sparks have a way of shooting out from a fire and need to be snatched up fast and bounced in one's hand until thrown back.
It wasn't real of course. My television created the illusion.
It reminded me of a lifelong yearning. A fire had been the heart of every home in my life.
If weather became warm enough to do without ,the empty grate seemed dead and lifeless.The house is not the same without a fire or a mother.
Coal was the fuel. The hearth quite small. Furniture would be arranged around the fire.
Before television, lights would be put out as we listened to the radio and conjured scenes from the words in our minds that television could never produce.
Before radio, older children told ghost stories and sang camp songs and we played guessing games like "My Grannie had a sweetie shop and in it she sold" Sweetie shops in Scotland were places of wonder. I think sweets were craved to make up for lack of sunshine.
I taught my children and grandchildren Grannie's sweetie shop game for long car rides and the dark and spooky shapes of the forest around the camp fire.
Coal burns longer than wood. Flames are smaller with more colours. Coal produces gas and a ripping sound as it escapes.
Embers form and hold shapes and pictures, revealed only to the individual seen from a particular angle. Like clouds.
The fire was used for cooking.The baby's bath would be set up in front of the fire, with blankets hung around to keep out the draft.
A coal mining breadwinner would stand in front of the fire to thaw out the clothes
frozen solid on the three mile walk home from the pit. A tin bath on the floor filled with kettles from the fire, waited to scrub his skin clean of the penetrating coal dust.
A muffler tied around the neck and cord around the trousers under the knee were attempts to keep coal dust out of every pore in their bodies. It didn't.
Brass and copper were arranged around the mantlepiece to augment the light from a gas mantle or an oil lamp and generate the feeling of warmth. Most of the heat went up the chimney.
The fire range would be polished every morning with black lead and the brass and copper kept to an equally high shine.
Houses were cold and damp.The wind off the sea whistled and howled and rain would be driven against the windows. The familiar intermittent sound of the fog horn was part of the element when a dense white mist rolled in and obscured everything.
A heavy curtain would hang inside the door to keep the cold out. When it had to be opened a long sausage pad at the bottom had to be shifted back and forth with the door
When we wrote notes to Santa in the days before Christmas, we threw them upwards. The heat would carry them all the way up the chimney.
It only made sense that Santa would get them.
Flames licked high and burning wood wood sparked loudly.It was very realistic except the pale bricks at the back of the hearth bore no trace of smoke.
I almost imagined my cheeks were hot. Except,I could not of course smell burning wood. Sparks have a way of shooting out from a fire and need to be snatched up fast and bounced in one's hand until thrown back.
It wasn't real of course. My television created the illusion.
It reminded me of a lifelong yearning. A fire had been the heart of every home in my life.
If weather became warm enough to do without ,the empty grate seemed dead and lifeless.The house is not the same without a fire or a mother.
Coal was the fuel. The hearth quite small. Furniture would be arranged around the fire.
Before television, lights would be put out as we listened to the radio and conjured scenes from the words in our minds that television could never produce.
Before radio, older children told ghost stories and sang camp songs and we played guessing games like "My Grannie had a sweetie shop and in it she sold" Sweetie shops in Scotland were places of wonder. I think sweets were craved to make up for lack of sunshine.
I taught my children and grandchildren Grannie's sweetie shop game for long car rides and the dark and spooky shapes of the forest around the camp fire.
Coal burns longer than wood. Flames are smaller with more colours. Coal produces gas and a ripping sound as it escapes.
Embers form and hold shapes and pictures, revealed only to the individual seen from a particular angle. Like clouds.
The fire was used for cooking.The baby's bath would be set up in front of the fire, with blankets hung around to keep out the draft.
A coal mining breadwinner would stand in front of the fire to thaw out the clothes
frozen solid on the three mile walk home from the pit. A tin bath on the floor filled with kettles from the fire, waited to scrub his skin clean of the penetrating coal dust.
A muffler tied around the neck and cord around the trousers under the knee were attempts to keep coal dust out of every pore in their bodies. It didn't.
Brass and copper were arranged around the mantlepiece to augment the light from a gas mantle or an oil lamp and generate the feeling of warmth. Most of the heat went up the chimney.
The fire range would be polished every morning with black lead and the brass and copper kept to an equally high shine.
Houses were cold and damp.The wind off the sea whistled and howled and rain would be driven against the windows. The familiar intermittent sound of the fog horn was part of the element when a dense white mist rolled in and obscured everything.
A heavy curtain would hang inside the door to keep the cold out. When it had to be opened a long sausage pad at the bottom had to be shifted back and forth with the door
When we wrote notes to Santa in the days before Christmas, we threw them upwards. The heat would carry them all the way up the chimney.
It only made sense that Santa would get them.
Monday, December 20, 2010
My House
Is filled this morning with the aroma of crunchy morsels of a bllend
of beef,veal and pork seasoned with onions, Worcester sauce,
nutmeg,freshly ground pepper,sea salt and blended with soft
breadcrumbs, moistened with eggs and milk.
With one pan,the frying continued for hours. The sauce was made the night before. The flavours of savoury,like a soup or stew,meld better from simmering,cooling overnight and simmering again. Ingredients were onions softened in oil and butter,ketchup,lemon juice, vinegar,yellow mustard,Worcester sauce,salt,pepper, brown sugar,chopped celery and green peppers.
I didn't count them but they filled the crock pot and still filled another dish.
Meatballs made with 6 eggs and 3 cups of milk milk are tiny souffles. They're not the same if allowed to cool and be reheated. They must be kept warm until served and a crock-pot is perfect for that happen.
Everything was transported to Heather's house where the Christmas gathering was held. We do it the week-end before. Then everyone is free to decide where to be on Christmas Day.
Great grandchildren twins, Reid and Claire were here from Tacoma, Washington.Their grandfather, my eldest son Stephen was absent for the first time in his life. He had stomach flu which hit him that morning.
Great grand-daughters Cheyanne and Abigail , were with us to contribute to the excitement.
My youngest son Andrew ,seventy miles apart from Stephen , was also laid low with the same complaint so was also absent.
His daughter Hayley was the guest of the parents of her best friend, who hosted an expedition to the Elgin Theatre for Beauty and the Beast. But Megan and Rhonda were there.
Grand-daughter Lizzie didn't make it . Lizzie lives in Oshawa. She has two degrees, a dog, a cat and an apartment. She works as a sales clerk in a health food store and does not own a vehicle.
Oshawa is not far away. But too far to scoop Lizzie, carry her here and transport her home again later. Parents, Martin and Marnie did that regularly when she was a student in Peterborough. They live in Barrie.
So Lizzie was missing and missed. We were together recently for Melissa's memorial service. Grand-daughter Stephanie proferred to collect Lizzie for the get-together. Stephanie lives in Sudbury. She had to get back there for work to-day and could not cram any more into her schedule.
It was a merry throng nevertheless. Heather's house is not large.Except for the little ones, there are no short people in my family. There are more males than females. Men love the kitchen.
Heather cooked turkey the day before.It was sliced and resting in an enormous warming pan purchased for the purpose.
The oven with a big red bow tied to the handle, was filled with vegetable dishes brought to the feast from various kitchens.Rhonda brought a dish of golden buttery scalloped potatoes.
Turkey broth,a new addition and very popular, and turkey gravy were simmering on the stove. A dish of milk with onions and cloves rested by the oven vent absorbing flavours and awaiting the addition of breadcrumbs, butter and cream at almost the last moment before serving.It's an English medieval sauce for turkey which combines well with cranberry.
Heather's freshly baked buns wrapped in napkins filled two enormous baskets.
Our hostess moved congenially between the giants who shifted slightly here and there to allow her to check that all was well. Robyn brought out the gigantic salad bowl on its own stand and tossed the Caesar salad.
Storm brought two rounds of brie wrapped in pastry to pop into the oven for the cheese to melt hot and creamy and be served with red pepper jelly.
Frank and Lorna brought crackers, an enormous variety of cheese and a new buttery crunch confection, freshly baked from a simple but incredibly delicious recipe.
It's been years since I allowed myself to be persuaded against the possibility of setting a nicely appointed table with matching china, fine flatware, crystal and plates warmed before serving
We eat from throw-away plates, plastic cutlery. Wine is served in glasses.
If there's a place at a table,fine,otherwise everyone seems to enjoy the feast and the company notwithstanding.
With one pan,the frying continued for hours. The sauce was made the night before. The flavours of savoury,like a soup or stew,meld better from simmering,cooling overnight and simmering again. Ingredients were onions softened in oil and butter,ketchup,lemon juice, vinegar,yellow mustard,Worcester sauce,salt,pepper, brown sugar,chopped celery and green peppers.
I didn't count them but they filled the crock pot and still filled another dish.
Meatballs made with 6 eggs and 3 cups of milk milk are tiny souffles. They're not the same if allowed to cool and be reheated. They must be kept warm until served and a crock-pot is perfect for that happen.
Everything was transported to Heather's house where the Christmas gathering was held. We do it the week-end before. Then everyone is free to decide where to be on Christmas Day.
Great grandchildren twins, Reid and Claire were here from Tacoma, Washington.Their grandfather, my eldest son Stephen was absent for the first time in his life. He had stomach flu which hit him that morning.
Great grand-daughters Cheyanne and Abigail , were with us to contribute to the excitement.
My youngest son Andrew ,seventy miles apart from Stephen , was also laid low with the same complaint so was also absent.
His daughter Hayley was the guest of the parents of her best friend, who hosted an expedition to the Elgin Theatre for Beauty and the Beast. But Megan and Rhonda were there.
Grand-daughter Lizzie didn't make it . Lizzie lives in Oshawa. She has two degrees, a dog, a cat and an apartment. She works as a sales clerk in a health food store and does not own a vehicle.
Oshawa is not far away. But too far to scoop Lizzie, carry her here and transport her home again later. Parents, Martin and Marnie did that regularly when she was a student in Peterborough. They live in Barrie.
So Lizzie was missing and missed. We were together recently for Melissa's memorial service. Grand-daughter Stephanie proferred to collect Lizzie for the get-together. Stephanie lives in Sudbury. She had to get back there for work to-day and could not cram any more into her schedule.
It was a merry throng nevertheless. Heather's house is not large.Except for the little ones, there are no short people in my family. There are more males than females. Men love the kitchen.
Heather cooked turkey the day before.It was sliced and resting in an enormous warming pan purchased for the purpose.
The oven with a big red bow tied to the handle, was filled with vegetable dishes brought to the feast from various kitchens.Rhonda brought a dish of golden buttery scalloped potatoes.
Turkey broth,a new addition and very popular, and turkey gravy were simmering on the stove. A dish of milk with onions and cloves rested by the oven vent absorbing flavours and awaiting the addition of breadcrumbs, butter and cream at almost the last moment before serving.It's an English medieval sauce for turkey which combines well with cranberry.
Heather's freshly baked buns wrapped in napkins filled two enormous baskets.
Our hostess moved congenially between the giants who shifted slightly here and there to allow her to check that all was well. Robyn brought out the gigantic salad bowl on its own stand and tossed the Caesar salad.
Storm brought two rounds of brie wrapped in pastry to pop into the oven for the cheese to melt hot and creamy and be served with red pepper jelly.
Frank and Lorna brought crackers, an enormous variety of cheese and a new buttery crunch confection, freshly baked from a simple but incredibly delicious recipe.
It's been years since I allowed myself to be persuaded against the possibility of setting a nicely appointed table with matching china, fine flatware, crystal and plates warmed before serving
We eat from throw-away plates, plastic cutlery. Wine is served in glasses.
If there's a place at a table,fine,otherwise everyone seems to enjoy the feast and the company notwithstanding.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
A Sad Christmas Story
I remember Ian Agnew at Christmas. Every time I pass his house on Murray Drive I am reminded of unbearable sadness.
Ian and Rena had to wait a long time before they were blessed with a child. One Saturday night, at family skate a the community centre, I saw them skating around and around leisurely and happily. Each holding the hand of the little six year old girl between them. She was dressed like the beloved little doll she obviously was. Her rosy-cheeked little face encircled in white fluffy fur.
At around ten years old, weeks before Christmas, she became ill with a virulent form of measles. They took her down to Sick Kids. Within days she was gone. They came home with empty arms to a dark house, an unlit Christmas tree with presents gathered underneath for a child who would never come home again.
I saw them now and again out walking swinging hands together, engrossed in each other,oblivious to the world.
At the Community Centre one night in the back row,I was watching my son Andrew's hockey game. Ian was there hanging over the railing. He saw me and came over.
For more than an hour he talked to me about the trip he took to Scotland with his wee lassie, the summer before. She was introduced to all her Scottish relatives. He rented a car and together they went to all the places he always wanted to see but never had.
He was so grateful for that time they had, just the two of them.
I heard later he and Rena adopted an older child. I don't know how that worked out.
Ian retired and I saw him going up and down Murray Drive between his house and the house of a couple of elderly neighbour ladies. He cut the grass in the summer and shovelled the driveway in the winter.
Rena died of cancer. Ian eventually took another wife. Then he died too.
Now every time I drive past the house I think of them, especially at Christmas.
A couple of weeks ago I saw a story in the Star with a headline about lifestyle and twins.
A professional couple waited until they were established in their careers before
starting a family. When their first child was a suitable age, they decided it was time for a second.
They learned to their dismay, the second pregnancy was twins.They took the action available to them and had one of the twins destroyed.
I started reading the story because I have twin great-grandchildren and know something of what it's like having twins and remembering our surprise and delight when we learned they were on the way.It was the headline that attracted me
As the Star feature unfolded I realized it was a horror story.
My position on abortion has been ambivalent over the years. I would never do it myself. I would not advise anyone to take that path. But I would not judge anyone for making that decision.
I've changed my mind. The professionals who decided there was no place in their lives for their own child and had it destroyed are not natural humans.
The Star writer learned from the medical professionals who provide the service, the decision to destroy a fetus because a child does not fit into the planned designer lifestyle of its parents is not unusual and is in fact common practice.
Christmas is about celebrating the Birth of a Child.It's about gathering our children around us and doing whatever it takes to show appreciation for the blessings we enjoy.
So this year, gather them closer. Make sure they know they are loved and cherished. Because unnatural forces are around us would have them believe otherwise.
Ian and Rena had to wait a long time before they were blessed with a child. One Saturday night, at family skate a the community centre, I saw them skating around and around leisurely and happily. Each holding the hand of the little six year old girl between them. She was dressed like the beloved little doll she obviously was. Her rosy-cheeked little face encircled in white fluffy fur.
At around ten years old, weeks before Christmas, she became ill with a virulent form of measles. They took her down to Sick Kids. Within days she was gone. They came home with empty arms to a dark house, an unlit Christmas tree with presents gathered underneath for a child who would never come home again.
I saw them now and again out walking swinging hands together, engrossed in each other,oblivious to the world.
At the Community Centre one night in the back row,I was watching my son Andrew's hockey game. Ian was there hanging over the railing. He saw me and came over.
For more than an hour he talked to me about the trip he took to Scotland with his wee lassie, the summer before. She was introduced to all her Scottish relatives. He rented a car and together they went to all the places he always wanted to see but never had.
He was so grateful for that time they had, just the two of them.
I heard later he and Rena adopted an older child. I don't know how that worked out.
Ian retired and I saw him going up and down Murray Drive between his house and the house of a couple of elderly neighbour ladies. He cut the grass in the summer and shovelled the driveway in the winter.
Rena died of cancer. Ian eventually took another wife. Then he died too.
Now every time I drive past the house I think of them, especially at Christmas.
A couple of weeks ago I saw a story in the Star with a headline about lifestyle and twins.
A professional couple waited until they were established in their careers before
starting a family. When their first child was a suitable age, they decided it was time for a second.
They learned to their dismay, the second pregnancy was twins.They took the action available to them and had one of the twins destroyed.
I started reading the story because I have twin great-grandchildren and know something of what it's like having twins and remembering our surprise and delight when we learned they were on the way.It was the headline that attracted me
As the Star feature unfolded I realized it was a horror story.
My position on abortion has been ambivalent over the years. I would never do it myself. I would not advise anyone to take that path. But I would not judge anyone for making that decision.
I've changed my mind. The professionals who decided there was no place in their lives for their own child and had it destroyed are not natural humans.
The Star writer learned from the medical professionals who provide the service, the decision to destroy a fetus because a child does not fit into the planned designer lifestyle of its parents is not unusual and is in fact common practice.
Christmas is about celebrating the Birth of a Child.It's about gathering our children around us and doing whatever it takes to show appreciation for the blessings we enjoy.
So this year, gather them closer. Make sure they know they are loved and cherished. Because unnatural forces are around us would have them believe otherwise.
Friday, December 3, 2010
I Have To Go
We are attending a memorial service In Missuassaga. A girl of twenty- seven years has died.
Only a little while ago, we attended her wedding on a beautiful summer day in Ottawa. The setting was a golf course. The reception was outside. The colour theme was soft rose petal pink.
It was the first wedding of the third generation. We are a substantial crowd to-gether.
My grandson Adam started the dancing. He is a dancing fiend when the music starts.
Pretty soon other grandsons were drawn into the competition. Then the uncles' feet started to shuffle and shift.
Melissa and Myles took their vows. They promised to love and to cherish. The wedding was beautiful,no less for its joy and happiness.
Now she's gone. She was off work for a couple of days feeling ill. Other than googling symptoms online,she did not seek medical advice. She was twenty-seven for God's Sake. She was alone when she collapsed. She died before the ambulance reached the hospital.
What is there to say? Young people die every day. Some in accidents. Some in senseless violent crime. As if life has no meaning or value.
But life does have meaning.
Joy and happiness and new life give it meaning.
The finality of death and an empty chair give it measurement.
There is no comfort when it's snatched away before it has earnestly begun.
The grief must simply be endured.
Only a little while ago, we attended her wedding on a beautiful summer day in Ottawa. The setting was a golf course. The reception was outside. The colour theme was soft rose petal pink.
It was the first wedding of the third generation. We are a substantial crowd to-gether.
My grandson Adam started the dancing. He is a dancing fiend when the music starts.
Pretty soon other grandsons were drawn into the competition. Then the uncles' feet started to shuffle and shift.
Melissa and Myles took their vows. They promised to love and to cherish. The wedding was beautiful,no less for its joy and happiness.
Now she's gone. She was off work for a couple of days feeling ill. Other than googling symptoms online,she did not seek medical advice. She was twenty-seven for God's Sake. She was alone when she collapsed. She died before the ambulance reached the hospital.
What is there to say? Young people die every day. Some in accidents. Some in senseless violent crime. As if life has no meaning or value.
But life does have meaning.
Joy and happiness and new life give it meaning.
The finality of death and an empty chair give it measurement.
There is no comfort when it's snatched away before it has earnestly begun.
The grief must simply be endured.
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