Teeth and Crackers

Visiting an aunt who’s ninety-eight is wonderful.  Elizabeth was in a facility, in a wheelchair and was full of stories.  Not current stories, not even stories about the last 75 years but stories of her childhood, in Saskatchewan in the 20’s and early 30’s.

But she always knew us – “the Pyners”.  Her now dead husband, Harry, was Mom’s brother so Elizabeth had seen us weekly for years. 

The one thing missing was Elizabeth’s hearing.  Our visits were loud and tiring for us all as it was difficult to make conversation.

On one visit, the three of us were alone in the dining room.  Elizabeth asked me how Nancy, my sister, was doing and I said, “She’s doing well.  She has a new job in the cheese department.”

“What?”

“She has a new job in the cheese department.”

“What department?”

“Cheese.”

“What?”

“Cheese, like cheddar cheese.”

“What?”

“Cheese,” and this time I mimed eating cheese.

“Oh,” says Elizabeth, “Teeth.”

“No, CHEESE.”

“Teeth?”

“CHEESE.”

“Oh, cheese.”

“Yes,” I said, sinking back into my chair, exhausted.  That was when I noticed a lone staff member sitting across the room eating his bag lunch and trying to watch TV.  I felt sorry for him, as my explanations had gotten louder as time had gone on.

I went to get a coffee for my parched throat when the staff member walked past.  He leaned in close to me and said, “I got it, your sister has a new job in the cheese department,” and he left the dining room.

A thousand times since that day, I have wondered why it was so important to me that Elizabeth understood that it was the cheese department and not the teeth department.  Is the world really all about my need to be heard?

 

But I have to go now.  I’ve just got to have some of the delicious “teeth and crackers” that I heard about the other day.

Loving Turkey Vultures

Mom's column from "Lurking Back" about a wounded turkey vulture

All Things Bright and Beautiful

I have just learned to my surprise that I should only care for ‘pretty’ creatures.  What, pray tell, would happen to my family?  Oh well, let that be as it may.
What was this creature lurking along East Sooke Road?  It was big, big for a bird I mean.  It was mostly black and a bit hunched as it waddled along the road looking suspiciously at me.  When I approached it, huge wings were spread but the bird did naught but run, flapping.  I realized then that it was one of the vultures, who are known to gather in East Sooke before migration.  This one was obviously unable to fly and had been left behind.
I returned to my house and dragged Barbie out to look at this wonder.  She called the SPCA and they asked us to keep it at our driveway by feeding it.  What could we feed it?  The cats?  Jeannie?  Jimmy? Could it be that desperate?  There was liver in the freezer, surely that would do.
As I thawed bits of liver in my arm pits, I would give them to Barbie to toss to the hungry vulture who showed signs of ecstasy, tempered with caution, but he did stay in the driveway.  Finally, after eating a fair amount, he hunched over to a stump, jumped up and fell asleep.
Bamba, of course, being a mighty hunter, never sleeps and appeared at this juncture.   He stopped in mid-step and stared.  What was this?  A bird?  And bigger than a woodpecker even.  Just imagine.
“Barbie, grab the cat,” I screamed.  Thus was Bamba hastily thrown into the car where his now silent yowls gave both of us the giggles.
The SPCA, hiding how impressed they were at how much liver I could thaw in my delicate armpit, caught the vulture and sent him to a wildlife rescue place up-island where he was treated well and finally released.
One of the WI ladies, when told of our exciting escapade exclaimed, “But Peggy, vultures are so ugly.”
I learned that day that I needed to temper my kindness with judgement from now on.  Are you deserving of care?  Do you matter?  And, more importantly, are you pretty?

 

Mom's letter circa 1950 about naming the sheep

Oh you would have laughed. The other morning Elton was getting ready to go to work.  It was a howling rainstormy day but he needed to make sure his boom was intact.  While he was sitting in front of the fire putting on his logging boots, Barbie crawled over, picked up one of his slippers and threw it onto the porch.  Then she came back for one of his socks and threw it out.  It wasn’t until she was heading back to the door with his second slipper that he caught her.  My, I did watch with pleasure.

I am so excited, the new log house is finished and I am helping Jimmy pull down the old kitchen. It’s fun. He takes the shingles off and ties a rope around the corner uprights, I hold the rope, he keeps weakening things, I tug, and soon I tug the whole thing over.  What a collapse - I feel like the Almighty or something.  Jimmy takes some credit but I hog most.  We pack shingles and scraps away and get the mess cleaned up.  It lets a lot more light into our new place already.

I love our house now.  It needs a lot of fixing mind you, but I’m anxious to get started.  Even the old part of the log house is not properly done inside and I see many hours of hard work ahead but that doesn’t frighten me. 

The new kitchen has the same mammoth wood stove facing all who enter and Jimmy is in the process of building me a whole wall of cupboards and counter.  The sink has a large window above it so when I wash dishes I can look out at our garden.  Boy, I’m going to fix it up so much with some flowers and bulbs – maybe a rose or two. 

Jimmy is coming in, he can keep his eye on the kids for a few minutes while I do my favourite thing – see if I can bag myself a raven.  Our sheep are having lambs and none has died but I have been guarding them from the ravens.  Ravens just sit around and watch for a chance to grab the afterbirth; often in the process, they kill a lamb.  I dash outside every little while with the .22 and sometimes I see nothing in the trees but I shoot in that general direction and the black curses fly out.

 I’m almost ashamed to say that I have names for most of the sheep, which is most unfarmerlike.  We have nine lambs now, out of six sheep, and two more to hatch yet.  The lambs came unexpectedly early, the sheep usually are put in the yard when nearly due but two went missing before we got them in.  Jimmy found one of them, the Dowager, way up in the bush with one lamb.  They’re both all right but it’s easy for the lambs to get stuck under logs and things.  There is one particularly scraggly sheep that we named Popeye and she was still missing, then last night Jimmy yelled out, “There’s Popeye,” and the old devil was hiking down the cat road with a lamb beside her.  Jimmy hurried out to open the gate and she came full speed baaing her head off.  All the other sheep with families ran to meet her, they gathered around looking at her lamb and she ran from one to the other giving their lambs the once over.  It was like parents comparing children on the first day of nursery school.

Mom's letter circa 1950 about non-Treaty Indians and their plight

I had an interesting visit from a lady who was collecting any old clothes the girls might have.  She is the nurse and girls’ supervisor in an Anglican Native school in Alberta.  She says just Treaty Indians go to this school and the non-treaty Indians have a terrible time.  Sometimes the grandfather chose to be Non-Treaty and if his family tries to change status to become Treaty, it isn’t allowed.  They can never get back onto Treaty.  The non-treaty children can come to the school but only as day-pupils and in bad times have nothing but rags to wear and no help at all, no hospitalization or anything.  I gave her lots of clothes and books. 

Apparently, a Non-Treaty Indian woman showed up at the nursing station with her baby who had pneumonia.  She had tried to get the Catholic Hospital to take it and they wouldn’t because she was Non-Treaty.  The baby was dying and the nurses at the school would get into trouble of they were caught helping her but the Principal said they couldn’t turn the baby away so they took the baby and the Mother in. They kept the baby alive for two days in a vapour tent but the Indian Agent found out.  The only way they could keep their jobs was to prove that they had personally bought the Vick’s Vapor Rub that was used in the vapour tent and it wasn’t from the school’s medical stores.

I couldn’t sleep at all the night following her visit.  I could not turn off my memories.  My father was part Indian, my mother was not, but she had no interest in or training in how to keep house and she showed no interest in the six of us kids.  Our house was filthy and shabby.  It was known all over town as the house where the dirty Indian kids lived.  I didn’t look like an Indian but it didn’t stop Tommy Bailey from calling me a papoose.  On Cortes Island, I’ve been able to escape this history by simply not mentioning it.  All that remains is that worm that squirms in my memory bank and refuses to die.

(Mom was in fact Metis but in her childhood was called part-indian. Mom's grandfather was AC Anderson, Hudson's Bay Fur Trader who married a Metis woman. His life is written about by my sister Nancy Anderson in her book "The Pathfinder".)

This is a diary written by my Aunt Elizabeth as she walked from Saskatchewan to British Columbia alone in 1936

 

Wed May 6, 1936

 Left home soon after noon.  On leaving received gifts, peanuts and one dollar from Kirks, a pocket Kodak and one dollar for films from community. 

Went from home to Drumhellar with Willie Warnock, truck driver, traveling until past midnight.  The roads were dreadful part of the way.  Willie says the “straight and narrow way” was a high and very slippery road with water on both sides.  Out of Hannah, he broke the gearshift lever and had to shift with a screwdriver, which necessitated stopping to shift.  We traveled fifty miles handicapped in this way.  Willie knew where to find rooms in Drumhellar and we turned in after midnight plenty tired.

Spent 75 cents for room, 20 cents for supper.  Total 95 cents

 

Thursday May 7^th

Waited for Willie until eleven.  Found lovely little park to wait in.  Willie introduced me to Casey Jones, a fellow truck driver who brought me to Calgary and bought my dinner.  First sight of the mountains about noon.  Reached Calgary 2pm and took room in YWCA.  President of YW very disapproving of a girl traveling alone and very discouraging.

Spent 51 cents for film, 42 cents for parcel of clothes, 15 cents cookie, 15 cents paper, 20 cents lunch, 75 cents room.  Found one dollar.  Total spent $2.18

 

Friday May 8

Clear warm, very windy

Walked 4 miles, rode 290.  Three different lifts, the last of which is to continue tomorrow.  He is one of those arm or leg pinchers (for emphasis) but harmless I guess.  Name – Stanley Mcdonald from Edmonton moving to Kelowna.  The mountains are far beyond anything I’ve imagined.  “I become inarticulate” (Gene Wells)

Spent 30 cents for bed.  That’s better

 

Saturday May 9

Hot, clear, fairly still

Arrived in Kingsgate (still with Stanley) at 9 am.  Was refused entry into the US because I had no money.  Walked half way back to Yahk and camped near a school.  Had supper of bacon, chocolate and ginger cookies.  Washed all my clothes.  Intend to get into school or a barn when it gets cool.  Face cream all leaked out.

Reconnoitered school premises and decided to push on as school is locked.  Three miles further on, just outside of Yahk, I heard a laugh.  Found what looked like a gypsy in the woods.  She came out with an open jackknife in her hand and I kept my distance.  She was very dark and sharp eyed, but she spoke correctly.  On learning of my destination, she offered me a bed and took me up a path into the woods.  She told me to lead the way but I soon got behind again under the pretense of being unable to find the path.  I didn’t like the look of the knife, which she still carried open.  Perhaps she didn’t trust me either.  However, I had a good supper and spent the night.

She proved to be Mexican, a miner.  Her husband was Scottish and on relief.  Their name was Moore.  Their cottage was unbelievable bare, quite far up the mountain.  Their most precious possession was a big cabinet gramophone, which had been given to them.  They kept it covered with a blanket and I felt it a real compliment when they uncovered it and played all of their dozen records for me.

Spent 15 cents for breakfast.  Better still.

 

Sunday May 10

Mrs. Moore believes she has something worthwhile in the mine and dreams of the time when she sells it.  She pointed out her mine to me but I couldn’t take time to visit it.  She walked with me for a couple of hours in the morning.  We had coffee at a closed relief camp where only the caretaker remained.  She went back then.  I camped for dinner by a little pool.  Saw a Jay, Jack-in-the-pulpit, a kingfisher and a trillium.  Lost my soap and towel.  Walked seven miles in all.  No lifts.  Camped at night where some cedar fence posts were drying of which I built a rough shelter.  Rained toward morning.

No expenses

 

Monday May 11

a.m. rain,  p.m. fair and hot

Started early and got a lift on a flat bed truck to Creston.  Walked from Creston nearly to Sirdar.  Lunched and washed under a high bridge.  Near Sirdar I found an old Frenchman sitting by the road.  He invited me in for supper.  He was Mr. Provost, a war veteran and an ex-railway conductor.  He had no means of support but the beneficence of his neighbours.  He had asked for relief but had just come from the States.  Someone had given him a dollar that day and a lift to Creston.  On his way home, he saw me hiking and when I came along he was waiting for me.  He had already eaten supper but he got me a delicious and abundant meal including sausages he’d gotten in Creston that day.  He also discussed his family and showed me a few pictures and keepsakes, including a splendid old hand made trunk.  Then he advised me about a place in Sirdar to spend the night and sent me on my way rejoicing.  I camped about a mile further on, but didn’t like my campsite so I moved on.  I reached Sirdar after dark – and such dark – so I didn’t even try to find Mr. Provost’s friends but pushed on through.  I tramped half the night and nearly froze.  This was my first experience of being on the road after dark and I was panicky with fright until the moon came up.  At last, I built a fire in an old gravel pit by the road and slept there.  Broke my water bottle and threw away my cooking dish.

Spent breakfast 15 cents, face cream 25 cents, soap 10 cents, Total 50 cents

 

Tuesday May 12

Clear, warm (nights very cold)

Woke early chilled through.  Fixed fire and slept for about two hours.  Set out to find water.  Washed clothes.  Breakfasted on one ounce of chocolate and then walked until the sun was up high enough to warm me.  Slept on a big warm rock until nearly noon.  Caught ride to the Ferry.  Lunched there.  Crossed over and fooled along waiting for rides, as it was too hot to walk.  Thumbed for a ride on a road grader, then a road gang truck and finally the man who drove the grader brought me into Nelson in his car at quitting time. He was one of the nicest men I had caught a ride with so far.  I found a room and bathed.

Spent lunch 25 cents, powder 25 cents (for my feet) Ferry 25 cents, room 50 cents, supper 25 cents.  Whew! Total $2.50

 

Wednesday, May 13 (one week on the road)

Hot

Slept till the landlady called me to know if I were dead or alive.  10 o’clock.  Had breakfast and started out about eleven.  Caught a ride to South Slocan and left town on the wrong road.  Got another lift and went six miles before I found out my mistake.  Walked back to South Slocan and about ten miles farther on the right road.  Camped by the railway just out of Thrums.  Found a potato and cooked it for supper.  Did a big washing.  Will spend the night here or in Thrums Station.

Spent breakfast 25 cents, film 30 cents. Chocolate 25 cents, matches 5 cents, Total 80 cents.

 

Some young dukhobors walking along the railway after dark were attracted by my campfire and came down to talk to me.  They asked a few questions in English, then talked in their native tongue and laughed a little.  I doubt that they would have bothered me but I had an exaggerated idea of my danger all through the trip so I got scared and moved on.  I “ditched” whenever a car came along as long as it was dark and kept on moving until I judged I was some miles from Thrums. Then I slept in a crevice in the rocks until morning when I lit a fire and slept on until the traffic began.

 

Thursday May 14

Hot

At sunrise I started out and walked all the way to Castelgar, about seven miles.  A Dukhobor lady there gave me breakfast and sandwiches to take along.  She wouldn’t take money but I left a quarter on the table.

Just out of Castlegar I got a lift with a man who was going to Trail and then to Rossland.  He went on through Rossland just for my benefit and gave me 50 cents to buy myself dinner before going over the pass.  This pass, the Cascades, is the highest of the used passes in Canada I think.  The man seemed very much concerned about me attempting it and warned me to enquire in Rossland whether the snow was off the road.  I got sandwiches and milk and a few supplies to carry along and then set out for the thirty mile trip to Grand Forks “over the top”.  I planned to take it slowly and camp wherever night overtook me if I didn’t get a ride.  I walked about a mile, slept an hour, walked another mile and then got a lift clear through to Grand Forks with a Mr. Pearson, traveling salesman.  Mr. Pearson said he had passed me on Tuesday when I was sleeping on the rock in the sun.  He said he noticed the clothes hung up to dry and that they looked like a woman’s.  His home was in Vancouver but he was going from Grand Forks by train.  Since my feet are too sore for good hiking, I am lounging along waiting for a lift.  I sit at a good point of vantage and watch the back trail until a car comes into sight, then hike until it passes me. If I don’t get a lift, I have a straw stack picked out for a bed.

Spent breakfast 25 cents, lunch 20 cents, tomato juice 25 cents, total 70 cents.  Received 50 cents.

 

Friday May 15

What a day!  *-?*!  Rain!!!!!

Started out feeling fine after a fair sleep in straw stack composed largely of Russian Thistel and plentifully inhabited by mice.  Walked about four miles, then got a lift in a light delivery truck just as it started to rain.  This took me, after many stops, to Greenwood.  It was raining harder by the time we got there.  I stayed at the hotel and wrote until the rain let up and then set out again.  Took refuge under a bridge through one shower and in an old mine shed through another.  Finally I stopped at the largest of the only two houses in sight and asked if I could stay overnight.  It turned out to be a bachelor, a hired man left in charge while the family lived in town.  He gave me supper and said I could stay the night if I cared to.  I couldn’t walk another step anyway.  While I’ve been writing the Boss came and told the hired man that his wife was coming out to stay a few days because the turkey’s were hatching.  I suppose the man meant it to warn me to move on, but I was too dense to see it.  I only knew that it was lucky I wouldn’t have to spend the night alone with the hired man.  It was still raining hard.

I walked about 20 miles today.  One little toe has a big blister and one knee and arch are weak from a mean twist I gave them coming down a steep hill yesterday.

Spent 20 cents for lunch

 

The boss and his wife came along after a while and just at dark the good lady asked me where I was going to spend the night.  Of course, I knew that she knew that I thought I was going to spend it there.  It was intensely embarrassing, as much probably for the hired man as for me, not doubt.  I hope it didn’t get him in wrong.  Anyway, I withdrew as hastily and gracefully as I could and walked about a mile.  It wasn’t raining so hard but settled to it again soon and I took refuge in the first shelter I could find which was a deserted house without windows or doors.  I slept in the corner for as long as I could through the cold, then stamped around to warm up, then slept again etc.  Through that night I conceived the idea of wearing my sweater upside down.  I had only cotton drill pants and silk underthings but for my top, I had a woolen undershirt, a sweater and camel pile jacket.  My legs were suffering most from cold so I put my legs through the sleeves of my sweater, thus making pants of it.  Even this didn’t remedy it, though it helped and I wrapped my muffler and a woolen sock around my knees below the sweater sleeves.  Does this give you a conception of the cold I was being exposed to in those nights when I had no fire?

 

Friday May 16

Cool, cloudy

Got out soon after daybreak, about four o’clock I guess.  I had no timepiece.  Got picked up after about a mile by a man who had been driving all night.  He was so sleepy he pulled off the road a little further on and took about an hours nap right in the car where he sat.  He had a heater in the car, too, which made me warm and sleepy too so I slept intermittently then while he was driving.  He was a nice guy, just took me in hand and laid out a new route for me, which is lucky because the road I planned to take peters out off in the woods somewhere.  There was a bridge out and a flood at Beaver Dam so our way to Penticton was cut off.  We went by a circuitous way through sand hills.  I hadn’t intended to go to Penticton but he said it was the best way.  He took me nearly to Penticton and showed me the way to Princeton.  Just as soon as I was out of the car, I crawled into a pasture and slept like the dead for a while.  Then I ate one ounce of chocolate and went on.  I caught a ride in a truck and slept all the way.  The truck stopping where it was to leave the road woke me up.  In Hedly, I had lunch and set out again.  I stopped in the café long enough to bathe my sprained ankle and bandage it.  It was badly swollen.  The landlady was very kind and gave me sandwiches to take along.  Caught a ride to Princeton with a webfoot from Vancouver.  Smarty kid, attractive black eyes, smooth tongue, interesting but probably tiresome.  Started out again but found my feet pretty sore.  I took the wrong road here, the shortest of two but the least traveled.  The maps were often misleading.  They showed only five miles to Aspen Grove but it turned out to be fifteen or so miles from Princeton and nothing there but a post office.  So I got no lifts until an old hillbilly came along in a Bennet Buggy and picked me up.  I asked him about the chances of staying overnight at one of the farms in the valley and he said, “I’ll see what we can do at home,” so here I am with him, his wife and four daughters, four grandchildren, three hired men and a son-in-law.  It’s a sheep ranch.  The three married daughters and their children and son-in-law are only here to help through lambing time.  They are a jolly lot and dirty as all get out.  I stayed there over Sunday and one of the girls hinted broadly for a chance to read my diary but I had just written that last sentence and couldn’t let her see it.  Nor could I rub it out with her watching.

 

Sunday May 17

Fair, still

These people, the Oelriches took me to their hearts and treated me as one of the family.  Invited me to stay Sunday so I did.  All morning they worked at sorting the long tailed lambs and their mothers from the others.  I kept gate.  After dinner, they de-tailed the lambs.  I fooled around with Gertrude most of the time watching her care for the weaklings and motherless ones.  One is no bigger than a newborn pig.  I never want to keep sheep.  They are the homeliest, dirtiest, noisiest, orneriest animals I know of and they make the most work.  

I washed and mended all my socks.

 

Monday May 18

Fair, windy

Started out about ten am.  The husband was waiting for me about a mile down the road.  I picked up a small stone just in case, but managed to dismiss him without using it.  However, I was thoroughly scared when I met the old man and not surprised when I received the invitation I had expected.  Whether he knew I had picked up the stone or not, he didn’t insist. This was the only time, so far as I know, during the whole journey when I was in any danger.  No other man offered me the least indignity.

I came through the most beautiful forests of large trees all clear of underbrush.  Saw a long lake with oodles of fish jumping.  Stopped twice to soak my feet.  About seven miles along the road, I stopped a for drink by a gate and the lady of the house invited me in.  She gave me milk and cake and when I said that it touched the spot she thought it a good idea to give me some to take along.  She got a 40 ounce gin bottle but I only let her fill it half.  I drank it and threw the bottle away within three miles because it was so heavy to carry.  Caught a ride in a crazy light truck over the craziest road.  The car was just like a rope.  He had some rocks in the back to hold it down but it was still a job to keep it on the road.  He took me as far as Merritt.

In Merritt I got a cup of coffee.  An old gentleman was worried about that and bought me a meal.  I have a dollar room in a nice Hotel in Merritt, though I asked for a fifty cent room.  Have lost interest in hiking since my foot got so bad.  My only interest is to get there and get there quick.  I ripped my pocket and took out my five spot this morning but haven’t broken it yet.

Spent 5 cents for coffee, 50 cents for a room.  Total 55 cents

 

Tuesday May 19

a.m. rain, p.m. cool and cloudy

The landlady in the hotel in Merritt invited me in for breakfast with her.  She has a daughter and a brother in law in Powell River and asked me to call on them.  She put me up a lunch, too.  I left my purse in the post office where I’d been writing cards and had to go back half a mile for it.  I walked 12 miles and then got a lift to Boston Bar with a Burns Meats salesman.  He brought me to a tourist camp and waited while I got a room.  He knew the landlady.  I had supper and a bath.

Spent 10 cents for lifesavers, a dollar for a room, supper 15 cents, cards 10 cents, films 60 cents, liniment 30 cents.  Total $2.25

 

Wednesday May 20

Cool and showery

Walked nealy all day.  Two short lifts.  One lift was with a policeman who took me to Yale and advised me to stay there overnight but the prices in the only hotel were so high that I went on.  Got another seven mile lift between there and Hope.  Made Hope before dark, have a room and am going to crawl into bed.  Foot and knee much better.  Have seen marvelous scenery today.

Spent chocolate 15 cents, cheese 20 cents, breakfast 20 cents, room 75 cents.  Total $1.30

 

Thursday May 21^st

32 years old!

Cool and wet.  Rained steadily all morning and most of the afternoon.  Worst day in the whole trip.

Started about nine, walked 15 miles.  Finally got a lift into Chilliwack.  Got a letter from Clarence and started out again, though I knew I couldn’t make Abbotsford on foot.  Walked about 12 miles.  Tried to find a fifty cent room in tourist camps and failed so I resorted to begging and after several refusals was taken in by Mrs. Blinch and treated like folks.  Pretty well done in.

Spent breakfast 25 cents, lunch 20 cents.  Total 45 cents.

51 cents left in purse

$10.00 sewed into pocket yet.

 

Friday May 22

Fair, warm

Left Bliches with her boys, who go to Abbotsford to school in a car.  Mrs Blinch was wonderfully good to me although she was suffering severely from boils on her neck.  Out of Abbotsford, I got three lifts in fairly quick succession and reached New Westminster by noon.  I kept on through town in search of the Green’s place, stopping only for fish and chips.  Finally arrived at 2:30.  Margaret knew me right away, much to my disappointment.  I hadn’t seen her for six years or more. Have washed all my clothes, bathed and feel fine.

Spent lunch 25 cents, carfare 10 cents.  Total 35 cents.

 

Walked about 185 miles in all and the total cost of the trip was $12.63

 

THE OTHER SIDE

 

I have made a rather heroic yarn of my trip from Donegal to Kelly Creek. No one has written the other side; the animals dying for food, the boys bringing straw eighteen miles to feed horses too starved to pull the load home in weather so cold that when they abandoned the sleigh and rode the horses home they could barely stand.

Finally on a day in April, I think, Len said, "Let's get out of here!" Followed the heartbreaking task of selling the stock that was left, and the machinery which no one wanted. Planning how to travel, what to take, what to abandon. Buying a car, building a trailer.

 

The boys and my father took the car and I decided to walk.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is a column from the book "Lurking Back" East Sooke No-News by Peg Pyner, my mother. She wrote columns for a local paper in 1975 - I edited these columns into the book. I still have a couple of books left if anyone wants one. I am hoping to re-publish the book into an ebook.

Solid Gold Pets

Jeannie is one of the four-legged creatures we allow into our home, feed and pet, love, honor and cherish in sickness and in health, and in time, she should be made of solid gold. The irony of it is that quite often this solid gold pet, this walking monument of dollars, is a mediocre mongrel of a dog or cat that belongs in an alley. Ordinary as all get out, no way worth the money.

This is what I said to Barbie when she wished Jeannie on us. "She's such an ordinary little dog. I'm not sure I want her.”  Jeannie had been on her way to being shot because she'd evolved from a cute puppy into an adolescent dog in heat.  Barbie, a known sucker for pets, rescued her. She had her spayed and she brought her from Vancouver to us. 

We wanted a dog because we were moving out to the countryside in East Sooke but I wanted a cuter dog, possibly a dog with more class.  We said we'd keep her for a few days but I started composing ads, “HOME WANTED FOR FEMALE BLACK DOG, FRIENDLY.” etc.  

While we worked on our East Sooke home Jeannie quickly set about establishing roots. She spent her entire time on top of a pile of excavated earth, growl­ing, tugging and pulling out roots. We thought this was cute and we laughed. It seemed a shame to waste all that labour and we never did send in the ad.

While I packed our Victoria home, Jeannie unpacked.  One night she ate a whole jar of peanut butter. How she survived, I don't know; the peanut butter was all right but the jar was glass and it was sharp.

She survived my rage on moving day when tired and hungry, I went to the packing case on the floor to get the casserole I'd made for supper and found she'd knocked off the cover and eaten the whole thing.

But Jeannie is a kindly soul, large and black and a bit silly.  She tolerates most things, allows the cats to bully her, and gets along with the otters and raccoons.  But, by Jeannie, there is one thing that should have gone the way of the passenger pigeon, that scourge of the woods, that foul fiend, that mocking, sneering chittering beast, the squirrel.

Jeannie has worn a path all around the trees in our yard and into the woods.  She races along this path all day, whining and yapping with rage while the squirrels float overhead.  They’re mean to her. If by chance she forgets about them for a moment or dares to fall into an exhausted sleep, they come right down the trees and chirp at her and yoicks, tallyho, Jeannie’s away again.

She’s not always cute, however.  She grows an extra row of eyelashes, which irritate the eyes.  This has cost us a pretty penny, having them pluc­ked at first and then two opera­tions.  The last one made me a laughing stock.  Dr. Grigor sewed two white buttons above the eyes to hold the stitches and she looked funny.  At the same time she got an allergy and scratched all the hair off her back. This resulted in the appearance of ‘body rot’.

Yesterday she got her foot stuck between two roots, broke her leg, and now she has a cast.  She lies on the rug, her foot is swollen, she's uncomfortable and I wish I could help her. I'll phone Dr. Grigor in the morning and take her over to have the cast loosened.

Jeannie's body is solid gold, her eyes are rubies and her ears are set with diamonds.  She's cost us a lot of money but she's worth every penny - our blasted, precious dog.

The Manic Jogger

The Manic Jogger
Barbara Warman

Other than starving, the only way to lose weight is to exercise. My doctor says so. I'm a bit chubby, he says.
I tried the gym but found I could make excuses from the smallest sniffles. "Well, it wouldn't be very nice getting germs all over the weights," I told the Florence Nightingale who sits on my shoulder.
I tried jogging. Land on your heel in your $200 running shoes and roll your foot forward, take off from your toes. I landed on my toes and took off from my heels. Couldn't get the routine. Needed to pee.
Tai Chi classes looked easy. "This is the first step of 108," the instructor explained, "These are the same movements the people of China practice at dawn." She showed us the grace of moving from one step to the other, shifting out weight. I was gone by step three. Had the sniffles.
I joined a class for women ages 55-plus at the senior center. Three times a week. It's bound to be easy when it's designed for women over 55. The rest of them had to be shapeless and as unfamiliar with exercise as I was.
When I showed up in baggy sweats and a large T-shirt I was horrified to find they appeared to be my age but slimmer, more energetic. How trim they looked in pink spandex and turquoise thongs. They had fire in their eyes. I had desperation in mine. They were already marching in place eagerly.
"This cannot be true," I whispered to my shoulder-sitter Florence.
"Oh," Florence says, "but look at this dude coming in."
Enter the instructor, Ian. He is twenty years younger than I am and he looks fine in tight shorts and a body hugging T-shirt.
"Welcome, girls." Our bodies, he informs us, are full of deltoids, abductors and rhomboids. My body has hemorrhoids.
"This week we are going to strengthen our rhomboids but first let's march." Loud marching music begins and like a sheep I follow Ian's movements, marveling at his curls and the rippling muscles in his back.
"Now kick out your right foot," he yells. "Now  punch out your left arm." Who knew I was this uncoordinated? I suspect it's the fault of the Brownie troop leader who spent months trying to teach me to skip when I was a child. She eventually got the sniffles.
Finally we march in place in front of a thin, solid mat covered in weights and bands. The mirror reflects me standing, puffing, cheeks bright red. The skinny pink-togged creature next to me is doing lunges.
I learn that each weight I lift will strengthen something - my biceps, my triceps or my pecs. I can lift five pounds - once or twice. Then I stretch. Ian tells me to attach my belly button to my spine. By the time I've found my belly button in the folds we've moved onto abductors or aductors. I wish my abductor muscles could do something useful and abduct Ian. I could be free of him. I'll happily lend my flexor band to my abductor muscles so they can tie him up. Ian, tied up. I smile. Florence reads my mind and smiles too.
"So, what do you think this contortion is helping?" Ian calls out glancing my way.
"Deltoids?" I suggest weakly.
"No, your trapezoids," Ian yells, "Come up here, I'll show you where your deltoids are."
I pretend not to hear, he demonstrates on a spandexed filly and the torture continues.
"Ah, yes, " he bellows, "Your gluteus maximus," as he swivels and crouches slightly, slapping himself in the rear in that blatant way he has. I would never do that and I'll admit I'm uncomfortable around anyone who would.
Now I'm done with Ian. He crossed the line. He told us we should stand naked in front of a mirror to see how much we had "bulked up". I trembled with horror.
He then told us he was going to demonstrate what he does to enhance his erector spinae.
Florence stayed. I fled.
Now I know I can jog.

Life?

Life?
Butterfly on swaying grass
That's all, but exquisite