Water Under The Bridge

No, that is not from “Paint Your Wagon”. The weather is changing for the worse; to be expected as winter is round the corner.

Takes me back to my winters in Dawson Creek, BC. with a difference. It was not unusual to have 30 below zero; but it was a dry cold with frost crystals hanging in the air. Perfect scene for a Christmas card. As long as a person was wrapped up it was really nice and the homes were well sealed against the cold.

This was in contrast to the first time I went back to Scotland; in the middle of winter yet. I had not realized how damp the weather was there; and I was colder back there than in Dawson Creek. In the mornings, my clothes had a cold damp feel to them and the house was not all the different. Can you imagine a stone built house with 4 bedrooms upstairs and the house was heated by one small coal fire in the family room downstairs. In addition, the fire was used to heat the water, was not kept on all night and all this for a family of eight. Brrrrrrrrrrr.

Perhaps there was more to the WW II song, “Keep the home fires burning”

Originally, this day was known to me as Armistice Day. It was at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918 that the Armistice was signed to bring a close to WW I, one of the bloodiest trench wars in history.

My father served in the Royal Artillery and my Uncle John was with the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. Unfortunately, Uncle John was killed and buried in the British cemetery in Somme, France.

When I was in my late teens and with five years of French, I traveled to France and with some research at the British Graves Commission located his grave. It was an unforgetably emotional scene; a bright sunny summer’s day, the greenest of grass and row after row after row of crosses.

My father and my Aunt Meg were greatly touched when they found out I had made the pilgrimage. I am the only one of the familty to have gone there.

Peace

A story reported in today’s Scotsman details the sad state of affairs in one of the outer islands where it was and still is, hopefully, the custom for doors to be unlocked. A visitor had entered one of the homes and stole money from a pensioner. One of the readers wrote a comment to ask why this was news; a reply to that comment appears below.

Because it reminds us Scots of a time when we, on the mainland, could retire to bed with our doors unlocked and no fear of intruders. A time when we knew and trusted our neighbours to do us no harm, indeed we could call upon them for support and help whenever we needed it, such help being reciprocated whenever possible. This was the traditional code of Scottish hospitality accorded to all visitors and respected throughout the generations. Very occasionally, this trust has been violated.

This also brought to mind my life in Dawson Creek, BC - the beginning of the Alaska Highway. It was customary to leave doors unlocked and, in addition, if you traveled the Alaska Highway it was expected that if there was anyone in trouble on the highway you would stop to provide assistance.

I experienced such assistance when I ran out of gas; totally dark and no cars on the highway. Finally a car approached and, without hesitation, pulled over. After assessing the situation, the driver took a can of gas from his trailer and filled my tank. When I asked how much I owed, he replied that all he expected was that I would do the same for someone else in similar circumstances. I am happy to say that I was able to continue the kindness of the Knight of the Road.

Trust does not come easily but is to be nourished.

With the help of my friend Daniel, I upgraded my cell phone and, with it, my ability to connect to the internet without using dial-up while away on vacation.

Just prior to my trip to Marina, CA we had chatted again about an upgrade for my cell and improving my laptop connection. Finally, biting the bullet and upon returning, I arranged to meet Daniel today. He guided me through the pros and cons; and knowing me quite well, was able to help my choose what was best for me. Of course he wasn’t paying. Just kidding, Daniel.

I wonder what upgrade Daniel has in mind for the next round.

No, it is not a comment about a flood; nor the Chinese water torture.

I am going back to my very early teens when I was a Scottish national champion coxswain with Stirling Rowing Club. Now this may come as a surprise but I did not and do not swim. If a cat has nine lives then I know I have at least four.

At a regatta on the River Clyde at Glasgow Green, the crew was rowing down to the beginning of the race; suddenly, one of the riggers broke and all of us were tossed into the murky waters. Luckily for me, the stroke was able to dive down and rescue me. That was enough for one day. It was not amusing at the time but a cartoon appeared in the next day’s paper. Think a very miniature Titanic; sinking bow first.

Another year, we were rowing on the Firth of Clyde on a day when the waters were very rough. We were supposed to have a splashboard on our boat but, for reasons,unknown, this was not done. Within minutes of the start of the race our boat began to take on water and slowly sink. The waves were almost up to my neck when my oldest brother who was the stroke of the crew told me to grab hold of him. Before it was all over, I was under the water again; rescued by my brother who threw me into another boat that had come to our aid. This episode made the BBC radio news.

Now we jump ahead many many years. I had decided to learn to swim. Yeah, you think it is about time? Well, I was doing reasonably well but not all that well. Dumb me, I mis-understood what the instructor was telling me and the next thing, I am heading to the bottom of the pool. The instructor had to dive in after me. This, of course, did not make the news but was my last time for swimming.

During my years as a coxswain I was on the water in the summer time every week night with different crews from about six in the evening until nine; as well as Saturday afternoons. Also, that was rain or shine. Apart from the almost disasters, I have many fond memories of the years with the club.

I treasure my right to vote. This was not given to me by birth but by naturalization; not that many years ago.

When I consider what was required of me when I entered the States and the current requirements I am amazed. One of the first things I was instructed to do after crossing the border from Canada to become a permanent resident legal immigrant was to register for the Draft. Although I was classified as 4-F (excused for health reasons), I know of others who were called to military service within 6 months of arriving. That had to be a shock; just after having found a job.

In addition to registering for the Draft, I was required to file my current address each year thereafter during the month of January. It was a simple process that meant going to the post office to complete a card that was filed with the Department of Justice. Years later, for reasons unknown, it became no longer necessary for the annual confirmation.

During all these years as a permanent resident legal immigrant, I was not eligible to vote but did pay all required taxes from income tax to Social Security to property tax. Since I was contributing financially, I figured it was time for me to have some input, limited though it may be, to the legislative process.

The right to vote should not be shrugged off. If a person chooses not to vote; then there is little cause for that person to complain.

Tonight was a night for enjoying Mexican food. That may not seem to be so special; but now that I reflect on meals when I was growing up in Scotland, I have made major strides in expanding my dining horizons.

Scottish cuisine (dare I call it that) was very mundane, bland and tended to be overcooked. I believe it has changed but my mind is set on what it used to be. My mother, bless her soul, was far from being a good cook and that might have been influenced by having to prepare meals for eight. To make matters worse, the meal menu did not vary from week to week; what we had on Monday of any week was the same for every Monday. Now, add to that, I was a very picky eater.

Canada was the first country where my tastes expanded but not without minor moments of horror; such as being introduced to dill pickles. Thought I had been poisoned. Dessert pies were an addition to my tastes. I remember my sister (she and her husband sponsored me) offering me cherry pie; then asking if I wanted it a la mode. Call me clueless, lol. Once I knew what that was, cherry pie a la mode became my favorite.

Since I came to the States many years ago my appreciation of international cuisine has expanded and now, for example, I find that a French dip sandwich is greatly lacking if there is no dill pickle. By the way, the fact that I refer to a French dip sandwich is not my idea of international cuisine - lol

Bon appetit

When I was growing up in Scotland I was never all that interested in soccer (we call it football - lol) or cricket; and, of course, TV was not in every household. In fact, TV (only one channel) came on in the early evening and finished around eleven. Besides, the Scottish weather was not all that great to go to a match; and the fans stood - no stadium seating there. Not my cup of tea.

I was in the States for many years before I began to understand football and baseball. and as the TV networks and channels began to proliferate football became pervasive. Without these broadcasts, I doubt that I would have acquired what I know about football and, yes, still learning.

It has become a ritual to check the sports pages for the games being broadcast and settle down to enjoy the games on a Sunday. Now that does not mean that I am a couch potato or a beer guzzler. There’s the Sunday paper to read; some household chores to be done (hmmmmmm not many - lol) and staying in touch with the world through the internet.

Now, apart from becoming a naturalized American citizen, I guess I have joined many in watching one of the popular American sporting events.

Communications covers a full spectrum of “being in touch”. This was brought to mind today when I phoned one of my brothers back in Scotland.

When I emigrated to Canada, years and years ago, my mother used to send a weekly airletter (a flimsy blue tinged mailer that, if you wrote really small, could tell all the family news and local gossip). The interesting thing about these mailings was that she would mail them first thing on a Monday morning and they would arrive at my home on the Alaska Highway by Wednesday noon. Try that with snail mail today.

Letter writing was part of my upbringing since there was no phone in the family home until it was finally sold in the late 1980’s. If an emergency occurred, it was the local telephone booth that was used. Even my father who was in business for himself never had a phone at his business until two of my brothers took over in the 1960’s.

I have close Scottish friends in Canada and our e-mailing is limited to perhaps twice a year and one of the couples would rather chat on the phone since it provides that personal touch; with which I can’t disagree. E-mails and IM’s with their emoticons are good but lack the ability to cover the inflection in a voice or a facial expression. This is changing, of course, with the voice mail and webcams plus the introduction of cell phones.

Too bad that my two brothers have not modernized to the computer age; and they are not that much older than me. So we resort to the telephone; and it is me who picks up the slack since the pricing of calling is prohibitive of over there. That is not a complaint as much as a comment.

There are other aspects of communication but the foregoing is upmost in my mind for today

Stay in touch.

Yes, you guessed it. Today was a day for visiting one of my doctors. It has been my good fortune to have great rapport with each of them and to have found excellent doctors.

My thoughts for today revolve around the concept that no one knows the patient better than the patient themselves; and, with that in mind, to assist in optimum treatment, I always take a current list of all medications including all over the counter items and not only a list but the strength of each and the frequency of use. The list is kept on my laptop, reviewed and/or edited regularly and easy to print quickly. OK, so everone doesn’t visit a doctor as often as me and this may seem to be overkill but, hey, you never know what is round the corner. Also, it helps to keep each doctor in touch with medications authorized by the others.

Now I am on roll - no, not like ham and cheese. When a new prescription is issued I find it important to watch for any unusual or unexpected reactions or side effects. Even without these, I will search the internet for anticipated side effects. On two occasions, I have prevented the possibility of a more serious development; once with my vision and the other my breathing.

In these two occasions, by using Google to cross reference new side effects with current meds and the new prescription, I was able to avoid possible disasters. Doctors do not always have at their finger tips all the stored information. Wow, how did we survive without computers? Scary thought; but then there was not the proliferation of meds as there is now.

When I was growing up - no, not one of those stories of walking to school - there was only one medication to treat acute and chronic bronchial asthma; now there are so many on the market that it is difficult to keep track and to find the one that meets a person’s medical needs.

Good health to all.