After Paddy’s had the fire and I was instantly out of a full-time job, I painted most of the rooms in our house and felt the freedom of deciding what to do with my days. Every day, after walking my son, Leo, to school, the day would stretch out with all kinds of possibility.
It wasn’t long before Dean and I were kicking around the idea of starting up our own business. We had noticed the need for a driving school in town, and one thing led to another, and before long we were up and running. This was ironic due to me having been a Transportation Logistics Officer in the Army. I had taken courses in military driving, off-roading, convoying, forward delivery points in the field and had even helped set up a heavy trucking school in Germany, teaching the Service Battalion soldiers how to drive the HLVW , (Heavy Logistics Vehicle Wheeled). These bad boys, as seen below (creds to the guy who signed the pic).
I also had all the office-related knowledge: payroll, payables / receivables, customer service and the like. Dean would be an instructor: he loved to drive and he was both laid-back and had great reflexes.
Just prior to opening doors of our new driving school in June of 2006, while awaiting a few details to solidify, we realized we still had two flights to anywhere in Canada due to cancelled trips of earlier that year. Dean and I brainstormed over where to go and we finally settled on Calgary with the idea that I would take Leo to The Bad Lands and to see the Dinosaur museum. I had my old and dear friend, Layla out there and could possibly stay with her for a few days in High River.
Off we flew and rented a car at the Calgary Airport, driving to High River and seeing Layla was amazing. It had been decades. We smiled and hugged, and I said, ‘we look the same, just weathered.’ Now, she was married with three boys. Leo, who was close to seven, was so excited about three instant new buddies. We walked to meet them after school and Leo was instantly enjoying his new mates as Layla and I got re-acquainted.
I began to notice that Layla was a bit distant. She didn’t meet my eyes fully. She didn’t have all of her normal energy. She was tired and she was keeping me somewhat at arm’s length. We went up in her sons’ tree house and saw a robin staring us down from her house’s rooftop. We put words in its mouth and then laughed and laughed because we had both been thinking the same thing: ‘Get the fuck out!’ That’s what it was saying to us. ‘Get the fuck out!’ There she was. Her old self had surfaced briefly.
Later that evening I had the pleasure of meeting her husband. I immediately sensed that this guy was off. It was all about him. She was in a bad marriage and it was all about him. I felt bad. (Thankfully, it ended a few years later and now she is rid of him. They had met in a religious cult which Layla was in for a few years, because of him).
The next day, Leo and I hit the road out to the Bad Lands and finally getting there, were astounded at the beauty of them. The striations of colour in the sand-stone were incredibly artistic. We took a walk.
Later we went to the Royal Tyrell Museum which was literally out of this world. We couldn’t do it justice though as Leo was feeling a bit sick from being in the car. In the town of Drumheller, Leo climbed up the inside of the steel T-Rex and he was giggling to the whole way.
Later we went to a pool which was the nicest and biggest and funnest pool we had ever been to. There was a huge foam floating climbing structure to jump off and ropes to swing from and slides to go down. This must be Alberta, I thought. At the time, it was very wealthy compared to Nova Scotia.
That night we stayed in a hotel with a Jacuzzi in our room (the clerk, seeing Leo, gave us a free upgrade – he was the cutest!). We put bathing suits on, got in the tub with the new movie ‘ELF’ on the big screen tv. We giggled and giggled and this is a fond memory for me because Leo had been feeling some nausea. He was better and that was a good thing. I loved to hear him laugh.
The next day we were back at Layla’s, staying in a house of an absent in-law of hers and I made a simple supper for them all to come and enjoy. I looked out the window to see all four boys on one bike. Leo was having the time of his life!
We went for a hike in the mountains and had a picnic lunch. The mountains were spectacular! The gray jays were everywhere. We visited a friend of Layla’s with a trampoline and once again, Leo was out there and all the children were laughing and having fun on the trampoline while Layla, Beth and I visited and had coffee. Later Layla made us pate chinois
and it was delicious (earlier, I had reminded her that it was my favourite childhood meal that mom would make. I would get home, famished from gymnastics or basketball practise and sit down to Pate. Scrumptious!)
We then played foosball and watched a doc. Foosball was a scream, because I was screaming and because I was screaming, so was Layla who also kept looking at me to see if I was for real. Yep. I get into it a bit much.
The next day, we walked down by the river and all through the little downtown. We had lunch at a wonderful diner.
Layla told me she had received a call that her Gramma was on her deathbed in North Bay. Layla would accompany us to Toronto where she would rent a car and head north. Sitting on the flight, during the safety briefing, Layla made a face in response to a curt instruction from the flight attendant. Oh my god, I nearly peed. She can make me laugh like that and it is just so stupid and funny that there is no rhyme or reason to it. Layla wasn’t able to rent a car because it was her husband’s credit card (and he wouldn’t allow it). She took a bus and made it to her Gramma who died just after seeing Layla. She had made it to say good-bye.
Upon returning to Nova Scotia, we began the driving school and it is still running today, twelve years later. It has been great undertaking with three or four employees whom we generally have a great time with. Driving instructors tend to be folks retired from other professions. We have had a retired school principal, a retired teacher, a retired scientist, an ex-airline worker and a retired engineer. They have taught me a lot over the years and I appreciate them immensely.
I also truly appreciate my old childhood friends. They are the ones who know you. Where you came from. How you were raised. What you are made of. Your values. A genuinely good friend is one you can just pick up with from where you left off. Even decades later. I have several of these people in my life and I appreciate them with all my heart.
My brother Jobe who was number five in the 
Anyway, before he could stop himself, and with little pink tongue clamped to the right side of his mouth, he systematically dismantled the whole intricate chandelier, but not a piece of glass would touch the floor. Four year-old Job had very carefully clutched each glass piece in his little hands and put each one down on the table top he was standing on… in exact order of its place aloft. He took a three-dimensional glass chandelier and made it one-dimensional. All Mom had to do later was carefully hook it all back up. She was fascinated by his ability to do this, and so were we.
nine of us moved for the summer months to be on the 
And when it came to water-skiing, he was quite impressive – slalom-skiing beautifully and even starting from the dock or the water on one-ski, which took a great deal of strength, balance and coordination. His physicality was confident and true. He was physically gifted. Mr Laset attested to this fact when I called him last winter to casually affirm my Elementary school memories when forty years ago he had been our beloved 
At the lake, Jobe would even ski down the 
Stealthily, hazel eyes rolling this way and that, with a fishing rod, and pink tongue stuck out just so, he would hook said pants and reel them up, ever so quietly, stealing glances down at Dad who was crashed out on the twin bed. The pants would seemingly float up into the loft where he then would quickly reach his small sure hand into the right front pocket and take out the roll of cash from Dad’s polyester double-knits. (Every summer, Dad would busily sell various items to campers: ice, worms, fuel – all for 
One of the chores at the camp was the daily picking up of garbage using the big red wheel-barrow. We had to wheel over the gravel roads around the 21 acres to each of the campsites and to the nine cabins and ask at the door for their garbage. Then, to the upper or lower field, often rolling over a large rock and accidentally dumping the whole mound due to its precariousness in the wheel barrow. With gloves on (in theory). we had to then sort it: burn the burnables in a huge 40-gallon barrel and pitch the cans, jars and bottles into the old open trailer that Dad would take to the dump every few weeks. Sorting people’s garbage was really gross and more than a little dangerous; so was burning it, especially in a field of dry-as-bone hay. We were burning garbage in a huge barrel at tender ages. I would have been seven or eight and Jobe would have been ten or eleven. I have no idea how we didn’t all have 3rd degree burns or didn’t lose an eye because something would inevitably smash or blow up. Of course Job LIKED it when something smashed or blew up. He would often HELP it to smash or blow up and then he would exclaim, ‘Morgan did you SEE THAT?!’ or ‘WATCH THIS!!’…BANG… It terrified me. I was often cowering and inching away as Job had his maniacal fun. A side note: Jobe NEVER smashed beer bottles. They were refundable and provided yet another nice little stream of income.
Jobe’s temper was also famous. He would often be a happy-go-lucky youngster, looking for fun and loving to laugh. But, often, he was treated meanly by our father…he wasn’t the quiet, obedient academic-type that Dad wanted in a son, I guess. None of his sons were showing signs of being university types (at this point, Luke was too little to show the signs of his future studiousness). Dad could be downright mean with biting sarcasm and cruel comments. He would say things like, “Jobe, you could have been a good hockey player, but, then you got hard to handle.” Dad would also be quite physical, grabbing an arm, pulling hair or an ear to propel one of his children in the direction of his choosing. One Christmas, Dad wrapped up a used dictionary and put it under the tree for Jobe. On the inside cover he had written: Have a read of this once in awhile. You might learn something. From Dad.
and if he missed that nail, there was a very good chance the hammer would end up in the lake and hopefully your noggin’ wasn’t in its flight path.
The first year, however, Dad put Luke and I on a Greyhound bus for the forty hour trip. We had to change buses at 2 o’clock in the morning in Detroit, Michigan which is known to be one of the most dangerous cities in the US of A. Let’s face it, Grey Hound bus stations are not usually located in the nicest parts of town. I was 16 and Luke was 13. Dad’s best advice was to use my scarf to tie my purse tight to my body. Luke and I found a seat on the dingy molded plastic chairs and linked arms with eye-balls peeled. We were terrified. Since I am writing this today, I guess we survived the Detroit Bus Station, twice, actually. We were there on the way home too.
Luke and I spent many hours on the beach and walking around the town of Fort Myers. We didn’t have much spending money so we would usually have an ice-cream and maybe some fries around lunch time. Then we would walk all the way back the couple miles to where we were staying with Dad and Wen. By that time, we were wiped. We had swam, sunbathed, played frisbee plus the walk to and from the beach. Luke would carry his boom box on his shoulder and play music for us all the way.
Wendy found this beach park for us to go explore. No one was there and it was gorgeous. We walked along the sand and found wee little treasures while a very relaxed Dad slept on a towel on the beach. Luke and I jokingly calling him a beached whale, when we were out of earshot. After a good snore, he awoke and sat up with sand all over the side of his face and pine needles in his hair. Oh my, we chuckled. Perhaps he did these things on purpose to get a reaction. I’m still not sure about that.
The trail was often quite rough and sometimes included donkey trains — which were tricky because you had to be sure to get to the inside of the donkey train. They could easily bump you off the trail. That would be bad.
which would carry supplies: ammunition, water, rations, various items, and spare parts needed by both forward fighting troops and other support units within the Brigade. During peace time, we conducted training operations such as weapons use, field exercises and fitness competitions to improve morale, esprit-de-corps and to prepare for future deployments. As the Platoon Commander, I routinely conducted all manner of administrative duties, personnel evaluations and reports, test and inspection readiness, subordinate training, orders groups, equipment maintenance checks, and many other duties in accordance with my rank and position. In a field unit, staying physically fit is one of the requirements of the job. Five days per week, we did physical training first thing at 7:30 am. Joining the Nijmegen March team covered the fitness requirement and provided an adventure and a trip to another country, all expenses paid.
(All photos courtesy of google images — I would have loved to have some of my own photos but I didn’t own a camera back then and there were no smart phones either.)
First up was Blomidon Beach at low tide, once with my friend Lisa, then Jessie (and dogs) and then again with Victoria. Victoria was home for the summer holiday and as eager to walk the beaches as I. That worked! Blomidon Beach is a red, flat beach with red sheer cliffs hemming it in. There are often tiny little avalanches of red stones coming down off those cliffs. All along the top of the cliffs there are nesting holes for the swallows that make their homes there.
At the water’s edge, it was astoundingly beautiful, the patterns in the rock, the ripple of the waves, the call of the gulls and before that, the emerald green moss on the tiny, perpetually trickling runoff waterfall. We savoured it all and it was magical. Returning to the parking lot, we sat at the hexagonal picnic table and each ate a Valley apple and drank fresh water from our water bottles. So simple. So good. The day had been perfect. We had taken summer seriously.
Next it was Blue Beach with Rachel and Simon. I picked them up and off we drove on another very pretty day. Blue Beach is located between Avonport and Hantsport on the Minas Basin. It wasn’t a far ride for us. We parked and started the wee jaunt down the dirt road to the beach. Every time I walk down that dirt track, my mind is aflutter with memories of the previous walks on that beach. The time my step-sister was visiting with her family and her palpable anticipation of this fossil-riddled beach. She normally walks with a cane. Not that day. She was just too excited and the adrenaline was rampant. She was almost skipping. Then, while she and hubby examined fossils, I spent time with their two children and Leo. Skipping stones and doing handstands, running and tumbling, chasing and being chased and getting wet with furry, joyful 
Betty and I did Medford Beach together, parking in the cul-de-sac and walking down the grassy slope, across the tiny bridge and carefully stepping down the eroded small cliff, onto the red sand, beside the fresh run-off stream. The dogs were with us and into it full tilt. The chance to run free, smelling all the smells and swimming willy-nilly made their tails wag furiously happily. Following their lead, we kicked off our footwear, sinking our feet into the cool red sand. Then we walked and walked and talked and talked solving all of the problems of the world.
or on Grizzly and she would knead their abdomens. She would sometimes receive a nice big lick but never a growl. The odd time, not wanting her attentions, Delta or Grizz would quietly get up and vacate the couch to her. The dogs just loved her. They were ten times bigger, and could kill her with one powerful shake, or one lazy bite, but they were mush in her green-eyed gaze.
They should have recruited tiny Sahtu. She could catch anything. When Dean was studying and inevitably scrunching waste paper into balls, Sahtu would come a-running, the first time was out of curiosity at this new sound, the scrunching sound. Then Dean tossed the ball of paper high into the air and Sahtu executed a four foot high jump and twist to catch that ball of paper. After that, it became a game to her and a marvel to see. She had one lithe, muscular little body.
Another time, after we moved into our new house, we needed to have some electrical work done. My eldest brother Matt came over to do the work. Downstairs we had this huge basement which had a workroom at one end, which was unfinished with an open ceiling and a utility room at the other end, which also was unfinished with an open ceiling. From time to time, we would notice little Sahtu going up into the space between the ceiling and the main floor. She would often start in one end and come out the other, having done her rounds, looking at us as if to say, ‘Okay, my duty is done. Everyone can rest easy now.’
