Oh Ye Old Sugar Shack

     When I was a child, the last days of February and beginning of March were a very special time of year. Not because of Spring Break, but because those were the days that winter began to wane and the sap would begin to run from those grand Maple trees. My father-Jack of all trades and his brother, Bill made Maple syrup in a small shack in my uncle's woods along with the help of my mother, Lois and Aunt Joyce, my brother, Bob and I and their six children. It was a little shack built in the woods, with a barely marked laneway, hardly noticable from the road but it held a special place in my heart and still does.

     Our Spring Break would be filled with days of playing in the woods by the shack, carrying buckets of sap to a now defunct manure spreader filled with 45 gallon drums in which to collect the sap and transport it back to the shack. Oh the fun, the escapades shared with cousins and the memories.
Firstly, being not very well off, we wore rubber boots with bread bags inside to guard against leaks and various items of outdoor clothing that had been passed down through the ranks of the cousins-mismatched mitts and coats that were made for the opposite sex. The older cousins ran from tree to tree tipping pails of sap from their hooks and spile to spill into waiting buckets and then running them off to be dumped at the waiting manure spreader. Only the older children who could drive the tractor carefully without jerking and therefore spilling, were allowed to, but here was where I eventually drove a tractor starting at age eleven-when I had to sit on the transfer case to reach the clutch pedal! The younger cousins were not usually required to carry pails but tagged along running behind, stumbling and tripping through the woods and looking for all the little harbringers of spring, picking wild flowers that had begun to appear and collecting useful sticks and other organic parapharnelia. My most favourite thing to do was to pull the sap pail from it's wire hook on the spile and tip it back and guzzle the slightly sweet distilled water, cold and running down my chin and quenching my thirst! In fact, as we walked down our country road recently and passed by my neighbour's taps, I waited until out of sight of their house and threw myself into the ditch, pulled the lines from their 2 gal water containers and tipped it up to pour the sap down my throat. My children stared at me aghast! What are you doing, Mom? Just having a taste of spring, children! As I wiped the residual sap from my face with a smile!
     The main taps were in the bush but we also tapped some trees along the road. I can still remember the frost coming out of the gravel road-the top would be mucky, watery and jiggle when you stepped on it. I can still see my rubber-booted feet with Wonder bread plastic protruding from the tops, lightly jiggling up and down on the surface; mucky but still in a solid mass that could carry your weight. And then of course there were the moments when your boots found a hole of grey slop and sank and you had to be pulled out, your boots making a sucking noise as they were slowly extracted from the muck! Oh the incredible freedom and lightness of being as we traversed the roads, the sun weakly shining through the last of winter's sky, the hope of spring in every bud, the promise of summer in every gleam of green and lush verdant spread of new moss!
     The shack itself was probably 15' x 120' and open at one side that faced Southwest. At the back was a huge hand-built chimney that also contained a square brick oven with a steel door on the side, over which sat a large black cast iron pot-possibly 3' in diameter and which held the initial offerings of the watery-sweet sap. Here the sap steamed away its surplus of water until it was ready to be dumped into the 8' finishing pan which sat on a longer brick oven with a door on the oppsosite end of it and faced the open end of the shack. On the North side of the shack there was a bench built of simple sawn lumber on which we children would perch and watch the steam roll off the pans. On the opposite side of the shack, the wall was half open at the bottom and there was a stand on which to hold another 8' pan if the sap was running at peak and there was extra collected. The outside of the shack was completely covered in roofing steel and non-descript with its patches of rust and curling edges but in my mind it was a Holy place-a veritable Cathedral built in the woods. On school days, our local schools would make a field trip of it and visit and I remember feeling threatened as all the children invaded my space, as if I had to share something which I wanted to keep a secret-all mine to keep.
     On Saturday and Sunday mornings, often my father and uncle would have spend the night watching the pans and my mother and aunt would pile us into Aunt and Uncle's station wagon and bring us to enjoy breakfast of bacon and eggs cooked over the fire. It seemed quite normal then, but when I think of it now...how much work that must have been to cook all that food for such a crowd of children and adults. And then of course there were often pancakes to be had when the sap had been reduced to it's sticky sweet remnants of syrup. My dad and uncle would watch like hawks, checking often with a candy thermometer and carefully skimming the foam that rose to the top and any flakes of ash that invariably found their way to sail accross the dark surface of the pan. I can remember at least one occasion when my mother and aunt were left to 'finish'  the pan, as there were chores to be done at home-cows, pigs and chickens to be fed and a cow to be milked at my cousin's farm. Lois and Joyce cooked the syrup past the syrup stage into toffee and although my father and uncle were very upset, we could hardly contain our glee as we scooped spoonfuls of the stuff and ran out and drizzled it onto handfuls of snow to eat as it hardened into candy! When the syrup was finished to it's proper percentage of sugar, then it was carefully poured into 5 gallon cream cans and brought home where my mother would reheat it in batches, strain it and  pour it into hot, sterilized canning jars. Many gallons were sold but we would have syrup for the year, waiting for us when we came home from school, to be poured into a bowl and sopped up with buttery pieces of toast. A tradtion that I shared with my children and is still carried on by one of my daughters. The syrup that we made was more of an amber grade than the thin light stuff that you can purchase in the store these days; I still prefer the darker, less desirable B grade.
     After the collecting was done, the necessary stacks of wood to feed the fires piled by the side of the shack and the kindling split (all chores to be done by us children) then there was time for play: the collecting of wildflowers, the building of forts, alliances to be won between girls and boys (there were only two boys, my brother: oldest and 4 years my senior and my cousin one year my junior) and battles to be fought! This was where I first broke my tail bone. The boys had built a fort and the girls were not allowed. I went in anyway and my brother dragged me out, picked me up and dropped me on a tiny stump. I cried and barely could walk for weeks but my parents didn't take me to a doctor-those were different days when doctors cost money and you were expected to suck it up! It was a sad day when the night temperatures would rise above zero and the buds would begin to pop and the sap turned a yellow colour-it was all over for another season.
     As we grew older, my uncle left off making syrup and my family carried on the tradition alone. The manure spreader was retired and replaced by a rusty coloured 1950 something Pontiac Strato Chief that had a trunk large enough to hold a casket or two barrels of sap or 6 of your closest friends when getting into the drive-in. It had a manual transmission and I learned how to drive on that baby with it's winged fenders when I was around 12-the trick was to learn how to let out the clutch slowly enough not to spill the sap, yet fast enough to not burn it out....oh the days of youth! We didn't collect in the bush anymore; my father tapped father afield down side roads and along neighbour's laneways that were lined with Maples. He had a drill bit mounted to a chainsaw and could quickly tap a few holes in each tree as us kids (now teens) and my mother followed along with stacks of pails, a pocket full of pink hormone pills which were inserted into the freshly drilled holes and which kept the taps open (who knows what they contained?) and wooden fruit baskets of spiles to pound in and hang the pails on. It's a standing joke in our family that my dad once tapped a Red Oak on the long laneway at my Grandparent's old farm at Big Bend near Wardsville. He just walked along a row of trees and in the rythym of drilling the taps forgot to look up at the tree. Needless to say, it wasn't a very productive tree!
     These days I try to bring my kids to a syrup farm every year, but this year-2012-during the winter that never was and as sap ran weeks early in February, I didn't go. That doesn't mean that I didn't enjoy the season and look longingly and lustfully at my neighbour's sap containers this year and receive with enthusiasm the bottle of syrup they sent home with my kids. I wish that I could transport my children back 40 years when there was no X-box or Social Media but alas we shall live vicariously through the local Sugar Farm and buy our syrup at the store, sadly thin and pale but still sweet!



Very similar to the old shack!



My daughter, Chloe, exhibiting the joy of Spring Fever!



Slightly more fashionable than the ones we wore!



And slightly more automated than the system we employed!

Aww...the nectar of Spring!



Happy to be in the woods on such a fine day!

The very accurate weather vane at McLachlan's Sugar Farm, Komoka ON

Just like the cast iron pot we used to simmer the sap!



 





Anatomy of a Concussion

I have to write a disclaimer on this-it is long, but if you or anyone you know, plays sports, or if you have children, you need to learn about concussions. It can extremely dangerous, even life threatening, for a concussed person to be put back into the game and continue to play, or for a child, or adult, to continue with an undiagnosed concussion.






Wikipedia describes Concussion:, from the Latin concutere ("to shake violently")[1] or the Latin concussus ("action of striking together"),[2] is the most common type of traumatic brain injury. The terms mild brain injury, mild traumatic brain injury (MTBI), mild head injury (MHI), minor head trauma, and concussion may be used interchangeably,[3][4] although the latter is often treated as a narrower category.[5] The term "concussion" has been used for centuries and is still commonly used in sports medicine, while 'MTBI' is a technical term used more commonly nowadays in general medical contexts. Frequently defined as a head injury with a temporary loss of brain function, concussion can cause a variety of physical, cognitive, and emotional symptoms.



This is how mine happened.


It was the last scrimmage of the year and the last night of Derby before Christmas. Our team, the Black Hats was down at least 10 points. We were doing better this scrimmage than we had the last one but were still fighting hard to gain on the Red Shirts. It seemed that their skaters were bigger and faster than ours and there was plenty of contact for a low-contact league! I had jammed twice and was playing what seems to be my favoured position-pivot-while screaming at Chlorine as she jammed for us and had taken the position of lead jammer and was rounding the bend at the far end of the track. That was the last thing I remember...except that I was trying to busy up Avalanche by pushing her off the track and remember thinking that our skates may lock...but I'm not sure if that was from a previous jam?

I was dreaming about something totally unrelated to derby and then I woke up, sitting on the bench, (alone, I thought) and wondering if I was dreaming in public or if I was thinking about a dream I'd dreamed before....I couldn't figure it out. Then I started to look around. It seemed like there were skaters on the track at that point, but I'm not sure if they were playing (they finished one more jam after I fell); or if some skaters were just skating around after the scrimmage to cool down. I couldn't figure out where I was...and I couldn't figure out where the door was...this seemed important to me...and it's kind of funny in hindsight because my aunt in LA suffers from Alzheimer’s, but when I last visited her in 2006 she was in the early stages of what we thought was dementia. Whenever we took her out to a restaurant, she always located the exit immediately...like she needed an escape plan...that's how I felt at that moment.

I couldn’t see any door or recognize anything so I asked a person sitting beside me if they knew where I was? She immediately said, “Rosemary, are you okay?”

Then I remember seeing my daughter Genna in front of me and asking her something and her saying, “You already asked me that, Mom. Like 5 times!” I looked at Betty Bones and started crying. Poor Bones…she didn’t know what to say…sorry about that,Bones… didn't mean to freak you out! Then I thought I was going to throw up. I’m not sure if that was before or after they checked me over. Avalanche who is a registered ski patrol person and a lady from the YMCA shone lights in my eyes and asked me if I was okay. Mela Thunder was rubbing my arms telling me to relax, that it was going to be okay and Genna was looking at me like I was crazy (or she was going crazy). I had no equipment on at that point and didn't remember it coming off, although I did pick up my helmet and put it on to show them that it was slightly lose. Then I announced that I thought I was going to throw up and headed to the bathroom, alone, strangely? I wasn't sick and started to feel better but I was still pretty confused. I kept asking what had happened…not so much  understanding that I fell, but how did I fall?

I found out later that Chlorine fell rounding the far side of the track and thought she dislocated her shoulder. I don’t remember her falling. Everyone was distracted by it and Nia (who was refereeing) blew the whistle and told everyone to take a knee (in Derby terms: stop action while injuries are assessed), when she turned back to the pack, a bunch of us were down. They said it looked like my skates went up in the air and I landed flat on my back and my head bounced. That would make sense if my skates locked with Avalanche…I guess your skates just go with the other skater. I was wearing the Pivot helmet knicker (a helmet cover that has a stripe front to back to distinguish the pivot from the blockers. The jammer wears a knicker with a star on it) and when I fell it slipped off and was covering my face. My daughter, Genna, kind soul that she is…said, “It’s a good thing that helmet knicker flew off on your face, Mom, because if they would’ve went over there to check you and saw you with your eyes rolled back in your head…they would've been scarred for life!” Funny girl, she is! But probably right! They tried to get me up and I got up on my knees and I said, “Don’t make me stand up…I feel too dizzy.” Then I crawled off the track on my hands and knees….real dignified like. I guess Genna went to the bench with me…not sure who removed my skates and pads. I was communicating the entire time but blacked out. A YMCA person came and assessed Chlorine and they decided her shoulder was only sprained. They weren’t too concerned about me until I started asking questions-reverberating- it’s called. In the meantime, they finished the 3rd quarter with 1 last jam. We didn’t win although it seemed important to me and I kept asking if we won. I would say by the time that passed during the final and with all the other commotion going on, that I was blacked out for about 10 minutes. I think I must have fallen on someone’s skates because the next day I had a nice set of 4 bruises on my butt. I also felt like I had a cracked rib but remember being back-checked (hit in the back by another player as they skate up behind you) pretty hard at one point in the game so I was not sure if it was from that or landing on something. In derby it’s so intense and so much happens during a jam and  falls that usually you don’t assess your injuries until the next day when the pain sets in and by then you don’t remember the source….just that it was a great game!

So they decided that I should go to the hospital. Genna drove and Vansterdamn drove my van with Suenami (who is a nurse, my age and also our team first aid assessment person) and I. (I know for sure that Vanessa loved, loved driving my van….and it was pretty stressful for me to be the passenger!) Sue took me in while Vanessa and Genna parked. I guess I called Dolph on route and told him I didn't know where I was or where they were taking me but I was fine? Vanessa grabbed half of a Ham and Mozzarella on a Rosemary Foccacia that I had started to eat on the way to Derby and left on the dash-she said later that it was literally the best sandwich she had ever eaten. You have to know Vanessa…. At the hospital they checked me at triage and then sent me back to the waiting room. I was shaking violently by then, had a massive headache and it hurt to breath because of my ribs. Suenami and Vanessa stayed for a while, then they decided to take my van to Vanessa’s and Sue had to pick up her car at the Y. I didn’t realize it at the time but it was a 4 -5 hour wait in emerge. There were some really strange people there…including us in our derby gear…thankfully Genna had decided not to wear her purple fishnets tonight! It makes me wonder…do rich people ever use emerge…because it seemed like most of the people there were really lower class…like street person class…not to be a snob or anything…it was just a random thought I had while there. About 20 minutes after we arrived, a lady who was in this quarantine room in the corner began to vomit. The first time, we heard it splat all over the floor. It was so loud that it pretty much rattled the windows…she went for about a half hour…or an eternity. Gen and I are a bit OCD about picking up viruses in public so I went to the window after we were there for about 2 ½ hours and asked how long the wait was. Another 2-3 hours-yikes. I asked if I could check myself out. An elderly gentleman beside us had been there since 7:30 and we got there at 9:30! They said I had to see the triage nurse again. She told me I definitely had a concussion and that really, unless I had more severe symptoms, there wasn’t much they could do for me. She told me to not over exert myself, that I should come back if I had really severe confusion, vomiting or really severe headaches that wouldn't go away. She said I couldn't run or skate for probably at least a week and definitely get checked out before I skated again.

I decided that since Genna and I had been carrying on a somewhat coherent conversation for a couple of hours and that I was looking at a magazine that I was okay to drive….really, it was my decision not hers. We decided we were both hungry and went through McDonald’s drive through for Double Cheeseburger meals…she dumped the fries on the floor of the truck…sorry, Laura! Then we got Vanessa out of bed and picked up my van where it was nicely tucked in her driveway…it looked way too at home there! I decided to drive and really, it seemed okay. It was 1:30 in the morning after all. One of my reasons for doing so was that we had a full agenda the next day which involved driving older kids into town and then driving to Stratford and back to London. We needed the van and complicating it by leaving it in London didn't seem like an option to me at that point. I was actually fine driving, until some punks on Oxford St threw a chunk of ice the size of my head at my van. It hit squarely in the middle of the driver’s side right where my windshield is cracked…I was sure it would've broken it but it didn't so I pulled a U turn and chased them down while I called the cops. They just stood on the side of the road in their subdivision and continued to throw stuff at my van while I sat there and described them to the officer…I was so mad it was all I could do not to get out of the car and chase them down…they had snow so I figured they didn't have guns! The police said they were on their way and I could go, so I continued home. (Later I found out that this would be one of my symptoms-uncontrollable emotions) It took me several hours to get to sleep…I think like maybe 4 am and I woke with a pretty bad headache.

We had a lot planned for that weekend. We had been planning to pick up a TV and Blue Ray player in Stratford from my son-in-law’s Source store, and then pick up a side of beef that we had ordered at the Trail’s End market in London. The TV was my Christmas present and would help make our room a private place to sneak away from the kids for a date! I had shopping to do for a family Christmas on Sunday that I had tried to finish on Friday afternoon and wasn't able to. Our Nethercott family Christmas was on Sunday and it was the one time of the year that I get to visit with those Aunts and Uncles and cousins. On top of that I had planned a baby shower for my niece, Kylie and her new baby, Morgan, at the family Christmas. I had photos to print, gifts to wrap, cards to write out and food to prepare (not only my own but I was also covering for my brother and my nephew). My oldest boys were invited to a small group party that started at 9:30 pm and ended at 1 am that evening and needed a ride to and from. I didn’t feel that bad when I woke up but as the day began to get more stressful things went downhill. My husband was upset and stressing that I was adding things to the day we already had planned and I needed to find rides to and from London for my kids. When I came downstairs to talk to Levi about the party and ask him a question…I just looked at him and burst into tears. I didn't know what I was asking him or why? The least little thing set me off crying and I couldn't understand it. (Don’t expect a person with a concussion to assess if they are having severe confusion! I didn't think a concussion was that big of a deal?) I took one Tylenol to stave off the headache-anyone who knows me well, knows I resist taking drugs for anything.

My dear friend, Lizzie, offered to have the boys dropped off at her house and to drive them to and pick them up from the party. Thank you, Lizzie! On the way there, as we drove through her subdivision, I had to hold my head in my hands as the van vibrated over the ice from the recent snowstorm. We headed next to Stratford….my husband, not used to driving my van, almost ran out of gas on the way there…in the great, uninhabited North-do you realize how many closed gas stations there are between Thamesford and Stratford? Neither do I…I can’t remember! We made it on a vapour and a prayer…whew! At one point we passed an empty field with a sign that read: Please don’t honk at the sheep! Really? I went from crying to laughing uncontrollably in 1.2 seconds! So my sense of humour was intact…I had to stop and take a picture…on the way home…needed to keep the momentum going….before we ran out of gas! We made it to the GoCo just outside of Stratford…more comic relief….a ‘bait’ vending machine! Really? I had never seen or even thought of such a thing-thankfully it was closed for the winter…those poor frozen little worms…. In Stratford, we found the Source and Liam, my son-in-law, had most of our stuff ready. (I had cried almost all the way there so I’m sure I was a mess). The other guys in the store knew what had happened to me, but they loaded up the trap thrower toy anyway and let me play it in the store, then laughed at me when I hit nothing! Liam and Dolph asked me questions about the Blue Ray player that I (Dolph) wanted and I stared at them with a blank face….they just laughed at me. I remember telling them that I felt like my thoughts were suspended in a giant bowl of Jell-O and I had to swim to them? Dolph let me go off to find a bathroom by myself…I made it there but found it so confusing and noisy and over stimulating…I remember standing in Canadian Tire and thinking…now I know what it feels like to be Autistic! He had to come and get me-I was standing at the end of an isle studying a display of baskets!

We headed off to Trails End for the meat…I went in to buy some fruit and veggies. I hadn’t been there in a few years so it was really confusing and the quality was not that great. I threw out almost everything I bought. After that it was Wal-Mart for one thing, Lee Valley, Source at Masonville, I don’t know…I know we bought an extra 20 lbs of fresh ground beef and were looking for one of those hamburger patty makers. We looked in a lot of stores and finally found one at Canadian Tire. We finally made it home at 6:30, with a van load of stuff. Dolph emptied the freezer and put all the meat in. I still don’t know what’s in my freezer…every few days I go out there and look for stuff… but I can’t remember. We showed the kids how to make the patties and I weighed one and said, “this big.” They found it fun for 2.5 seconds….I looked at the 20 lbs of meat and threw it in the mud room for later (don’t worry-it’s cold in there). On to making Jell-O, Cherry Cheesecake, and collecting up tea, coffee, cups, buns and butter, punch bowl and serving dishes. I tried to watch a little of Lord of the Rings Blue Ray on my new TV… couldn't handle it. I wasn't impressed with the theatrical looking lighting or seeing every one of Gandalf’s pores and it hurt my eyes! Finally at 10:30 I fell into bed for a couple of hours. It was really hard to sleep. The back of my head hurt a lot, my neck muscles were extremely sore and one of my ribs felt like it was cracked so I tossed and turned all night. Woke myself up at 12:30 and tried to upload my pictures to Blacks. I had taken my niece’s maternity photos and bought her a collage frame as a gift. I needed photos in various sizes and 10 5 x 7’s of a family photo taken at Genna’s wedding. That would be my Christmas card…regular cards had been crossed off the list! Finally at 4:30 am after tearing out my hair, my order was done and I was off to bed! Up early the next morning for church! Church was hard-there were so many people, the lights were really bright and the music was too loud-none of which usually bother me! After church and off to Blacks at the mall, then home to get everything ready for the Nethercott Christmas. I wanted to make Kylie and Baby Morgan cupcakes, but Genna said she would do it, so she showed up at my place with the cupcakes made and began to decorate them with all my cake decorating supplies. Dolph made bacon and tomato sandwiches for everyone while Marley, extra kid: Grace and the rest of my kids cavorted around the house. It was chaos! (Think, the late wakeup call in Home Alone!)I was packing up food, wrapping presents and consulting my list every 2 minutes! I remembered a Reliant K Christmas cd that I had ordered for Jake for his birthday and I had just picked up the day before- I took it out of its hiding place in the closet and handed it to Adrian who was headed for the car. “Here”, I said, “give this to Jake. We can listen to it in the car.” No one has seen that cd since…..it’s a great mystery. Finally everything was packed up in the car and we were off. Once there, I managed to hold it together, get my buns and butter on the food table, my cherry cheesecake out, the coffee and tea things out, cups, punch bowl while maintaining a conversation with my aunts and cousins in the kitchen. I was perplexed about my photo order-I was sure Blacks had it wrong-my 5 x 7 family pictures were cropped wrong and too small and all the rest of the pics were too big but I handed them out anyway. (A terse call to Blacks later and a quick measure with a ruler straightened it out…they were the right size…I was an idiot!) We managed to surprise Kylie with the cupcakes and gifts. I even took photos. Soon it was time to say good bye, clean up and drive home. Thankfully, Dolph was driving-the second big storm of the year was underway! At home, I curled up on the couch with Grace and watched one of my favourite movies: Step Mom. Finally, I fell into bed. Oh, yeah and there was a giant bowl of Lime-Pineapple Jell-O in the fridge that I had forgotten!

Oddly, though, I was up early again….very early. I had a crushing headache. That morning, I knew I had to see the doctor. I had promised my Derby Team that for insurance purposes that I would get myself checked out. Every morning we do family devotions with our kids. There was extra discussion as we had Grace there to participate. We read out of a daily devotional booklet that we pick up at church every month. Today, the family couldn't get the meaning so they asked me to read it. It was only a page and I read it 3 times but I couldn't make any sense of it. I knew what I was reading and understood the words but I just couldn't figure it out? I knew something was drastically wrong. I made an appointment to see the doctor. I didn't want to drive myself but it would mean having my daughter pack up Marley and driving ½ hour to my house. She said she would do it but only if I couldn't find a ride. Dolph said to drive myself-I was fine. I called my neighbor and got no answer, so not wanting to bother anyone I drove myself. It was really snowy and icy. I was pretty tense and in tears again thinking that no one cared about me. I know…pity party! After talking to the doctor, he did a neurological exam. I failed miserably. I knew what he was telling me but I couldn't make the connection to do it…like my brain could not make my body move. I broke down in the office. The doctor explained that in a concussion all your brain chemicals get sloshed around and out of the cells. It takes days, weeks or months for them to return to their proper place. In a secondary concussion before healing, the chemicals get sloshed back into the cells but the wrong cells making it even harder for the brain to recover…blood can also be forced out of blood vessels causing stroke and death. He booked me for a CT scan and tried calling my husband and my daughter. He didn’t get either one of them but he said: you are not driving home. We have to find you a ride. He told me that he was putting me on complete brain rest for 1 week: no TV, no driving, and no reading, no thinking, nothing…he said I could do only a few minutes of computer if I needed to do some online shopping, some mundane housekeeping like washing dishes… and talk on the phone; basically mindless stuff. He said in a week, I could look at a magazine and maybe watch a little bit of a slow TV show. I was completely paralyzed with stress-it was just 2 weeks until Christmas….and I couldn't remember what he had just said! But I’m supposed to be having a bunch of ladies over for coffee and dessert this week…he didn't even want me going to a party let alone hosting one! He turned the lights off, left me alone to sleep and went to try and get my husband or daughter. Eventually he talked to both of them. Dolph came to get me, while Genna called the kids and told them exactly what the doctor said…with added threats. The doctor explained everything to Dolph and told him that he had to do everything and I was to have complete quiet and rest! Ha! Had he never seen my house? Five kids at home? Homeschool family? Mom-Zillah? Was he crazy? Dolph asked him for a Valium prescription…the doctor actually thought he was joking! Well, I had lots of people watching me. I didn’t get away with much…although it wasn’t for lack of trying! And the first day it was really quiet. Dolph made a roast for supper. I went in the kitchen to watch. I couldn’t believe he was tenting the thing. I wanted to tell him how to do it. You have to roast it uncovered to sear the outside and seal in the juices….I gave up and left the room without saying a word. After all someone was making me dinner! That night was one of the hardest of my life. It was difficult to sleep because of all the bruises and the pain in the back of my head and my neck. I slept until 3 am and woke up with absolutely nothing to do….except stare into space. I sat in the office from 3 until 6 am, wrapped in a blanket and staring at snowflakes swirling around the yard. I had a mantra to stop my brain from racing….breathe in-breathe out…for hours. Finally after 3 days, there was some peace in my brain. Every night was the same; tossing to find a comfortable spot to lie, then waking up at 3 am. Well, at least it was quiet and peaceful. Dolph drove the kids in to the dentist the next morning; Levi and Chloe had to have wires changed on their braces before Christmas. This was the first time in many, many years that my husband drove anyone to the dentist. Levi had a root canal done 2 years before and Dolph didn't believe me? It was hard to watch him do stuff that I always did. He stayed home for 2 days but I knew it was hard for him-he was trying to finish a basement before Christmas for a client.

The headaches were raging that week. How to describe them? How many different types are there? I don’t think I had a migraine…that would have indicated bleeding but they were weird. The left side of the back of my head hurt the most. But they moved around and felt different all the time. Sometimes it was pressure, sometimes it was throbbing, at one point it felt like electric shocks going off in the middle of my head! Sometimes it felt like I had a frontal lobotomy-that I was sure that someone had removed the front half of my brain! I kept checking to see if it was there but mostly I felt mindless. If you've ever done a lot of drugs, you’d know the feeling-just a very deep state of duh….like I said…my thoughts were swimming in Jell-O. Sometimes I just sat and pressed my hands on my head to relieve the pressure. The week seemed endless. I kept thinking, does the doctor mean one week from concussion or one week from visit? I thought I would instantly be better. My husband thought it was funny-now you know what I feel like all the time-he said. Thanks, now I know I need to get better! I spent most of the week in my room sitting in bed staring out the window.

It seemed to work 2 ways-when I overdid it the symptoms got worse and brought on emotional stress with them, but emotional stress brought on the symptoms so I had to keep myself relaxed. Anyone who knows me well; knows that I motivate myself with stress. And I also use stress to motivate my kids. I know, it’s not the right way to do things but old habits die hard! I slowly learned to let it go. I mean, I still had thoughts of Christmas hanging over my head. I have 7 kids, 12 stockings to stuff and presents to wrap, baking to do and not all of my shopping done and I couldn’t drive. That Saturday Dolph took me to Giant Tiger to pick up stocking stuffers for the kids. I had a very clear picture of what I wanted and a list but man that store is confusing! I left in an hour in tears not really sure of what I bought? It turned out that I did buy extra stuff in weird sizes but everyone managed to get something that fit! The next day was church again and Marley’s third birthday. I didn’t think it was a big deal going to church and I wanted to be there for our Christmas service but if I could have climbed over the other people in my row with any shred of dignity I would have left-I made it through the service by focusing on a point on the ceiling where there were no lights. The party was fun -did I really bake dinosaur cookies for Marley the day before? I decorated my cookies and presented them to Marley and took lots of photos. It seemed like I could function normally for a while but paid dearly later. A person who has a concussion cannot think for themselves-someone needs to tell them, no, restrain them from doing things that they think are important because they have no judgment about their condition! If that person is strong willed like me, then I feel for you because everything seems important.

With only a few days left until Christmas, I knew I had to finish my shopping. I also had organized a tobogganing event at Killer Hill-thankfully Mrs. C drove to my house and drove my van to the hill while one of her kids drove her van. Thank you, Deanna! I found that my facial bones were extremely sensitive to cold and my face hurt horribly from the cold-oversensitive nerves-I found out later. That night I had company for dinner (was I crazy? Yes)-the Sodemans. We had a great time but I shouldn't have done it! I paid dearly the next day. It was funny too-the kids were playing dress up and one of them looked like a ghost-we were trying to figure out the name…Jacob Marley? But first we came up with Bob Marley…no that’s the reggae artist…then I was like Bob Marley?…is that really his name?…I had to get out a cd to check…Jon just laughed at me! Just the Reggae artist my granddaughter is named after! Genna took me shopping a couple of days later. I had a long list and several stops-one to replace the lost Reliant K cd! We went to Masonville-I had cds to get at HMV. Usually I have no trouble navigating that store but…I couldn't figure it out…I found one Cd I wanted then drew a blank. I was wondering around looking like an old person/parent that was in the wrong store when a sales girl offered help. I told her, “I’m looking for this cd…they’re new but they sound old…and they have a hit on the radio...” Helpful! Poor Genna…she must have been embarrassed…she told her, “She’s not usually like this. She’s suffering from a concussion.” But the salesgirl knew exactly what I wanted-The Black Keys! I wanted to hug her! We decided to eat in the restaurant. Genna said it would be quiet and there was a fireplace and I could rest. We went in and sat down. The waiter came to our table and started her spiel…it was all I could do not to cry…the noise was horrendous! I found out later that a concussed person has no filters. When someone with a normal brain goes into a noisy place their brain filters out the Muzak  flickering fluorescent lights, kitchen clatter, other conversations in the room and all the other input our brains are subjected to. Our filters only allow in what they feel is important to our immediate needs. In a concussed person everything comes in at the same rate: conversations on the other side of the room, lights, noise, music, ect. It’s very overpowering and over stimulating. As soon as the waiter left she asked if I wanted to leave? YES! She said it was the quivery lip that gave me away! Genna jokingly said she was driving Miss Daisy! I managed to get through baking, wrapping and cleaning for the next few days. I was not watching tv, reading or using the computer except the few minutes here and there the doctor allowed. Christmas Eve came and I had 12 stockings to stuff. I stuffed them that evening while everyone watched a Christmas movie together. That’s one of our favourite things to do over the holidays-not for me this year!  I put each stocking in a shopping bag, carried them downstairs and left them behind the couch and went to bed. After all I would be up at 4 or 5 am anyway, plenty of time to put them out! We had gotten my husband and granddaughter quad skates for Christmas. He was pretty happy and insisted that he remembered how to skate in them. He put them right on and skated around the kitchen, then skated backwards and started doing backwards crossovers…it had taken me months to be able to do front crossovers! Gen and I went in the kitchen and booty blocked him and put an end to that! Literally! Usually we play a game called hide the pickle in the tree but instead this year we played “Find Grandma’s one out of a $60 package of China Red Bearings” that got lost in the wrapping paper (Marley was playing with Grandma’s little “wheels”) Thankfully after taking all the wrapping paper out of the bags like 3 times we found the lost bearing in a gift bag! Sigh…I made it through Christmas and the next week. We had my niece Samantha stay with us that week. I still took it very easy although we did go to the mall and tried to go to a movie…I was actually relieved when we found out it was sold out-I could not have sat through 2 hours of Tron! I did however start to read and got so involved in a book that I read 300 pgs in one day-that put me back about a week. After that, I went back to brain rest fully. For New Years I watched Casa Blanca-the first tv I had really watched in 3 weeks. I had a very stressful New Years day with a family problem-spent the entire day in my room in tears praying. If I had just continued to stay on brain rest for the entire 3 weeks I’m sure I would have started to improve by now but it’s really hard when you have 5 children at home. The headaches were not so bad now, mostly just the other symptoms. It really amazed me that Gracie Bunch left a dent in the hood of a Ram truck with her face and she was normal in a month!! The doctors did suggest to her parents that they could put her I Pod on after a week or 10 days-I would say, NO! It would drive a brain injured person nuts!! You can read about Gracie's catostrophic brain injury here. http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=175375356517

We started school and I found it very stressful once Dolph went back to work. I spent most of my time in my room. Even cleaning was too much. I could only really do dishes, tidy or fold a load of laundry. I could make a recipe that I was familiar with but a new recipe involved me reading it over and over to remember one simple step. We had changed our cell phone company 2 days before my fall and had gotten high speed with a hub (wireless line). Bell cancelled our email account so I had to change all of our contacts. I could manage about 4 per day. We also had to call them several times to rearrange the billing and set-up. It was a mess. I had 5 contracts to write for our business but couldn't do it. As it was, I was trying to coordinate a kitchen gut and reno after Christmas-thankfully she worked at the Brain Trauma wing at Parkwood and knew what I was going through. In one week, Dolph missed 3 appointments because I couldn't remember them (neither could he)…another client that worked at Parkwood who was very forgiving!

On January 4th, I went to the Fowler-Kennedy Sports Injury Clinic at UWO. First I went to the chiropractor who did massage, essential oils and a new technique involving flight and fright symptoms which occur when you fall or are in a car accident. I wouldn't let her touch or adjust my neck but what she did was enough to pretty much knock me out. Next I stopped at Blackfriars and got my hair cut....my hairdresser Robbin is so cute-she exclaimed, "Wow, Rosemary, your head is still swollen!" No, Robbin, my head is crooked-the other side is flat! After that stimulus I didn't want anyone to touch my head! At Fowler-Kennedy I was seen by a resident and student first. I thought that I shouldn't have gone to the Chiropractor first but they would test me at my worst anyway. The concussion testing involves the Dr. asking you to follow certain instructions of body and eye movements. It’s a weird feeling knowing what you are supposed to do and not being able to make your body do it for several seconds. They laughed when they heard that it was a Roller Derby related injury. The doctor explained that a brain injury is like a fracture but because there is no cast or outward sign it makes it difficult for others to recognize that you are still healing. Those close to me would be able to see the symptoms. Basically 2 more weeks of brain rest was the prescription. In January I began to improve slowly. My confusion and lack of emotional control began to get better although symptoms brought on crying and confusion or emotional stress brought on symptoms. Around 6 weeks I could go to the grocery store without crying. Dolph had great fun asking what I was going to do today before he left for work...then laughing at his own response-NOTHING!! I had to concentrate hard if someone was telling me something I had to understand. I had to listen intently at the beginning or get them to start over. My son Jake asked me for help in his English, and then said, “Oh, forget it.” Lol Grade 5 math was my new limit. Sometimes I would have a 3” section of my skull that felt like it was pushing out. Almost like a 3" goose egg. It would feel hot to the touch and sensitive for a few days, then fade. It moved around to different areas of my head. I realized that my memory had been affected until around Thanksgiving. I didn't remember Jake's birthday the week before or another party I had attended. About 5 weeks in, my symptoms changed and I began to describe the feeling as a “brain clenching”. It felt as if my brain was clenched up like a fist, tightly, with a feeling of great pressure. Sometimes it even seemed like it moved inside my skull. That would come on after 20 minutes at the computer or something as simple as loading the dishwasher. One day it felt like jolts of electricity were going through it. I made up my mind to go back to complete brain rest for a few days after that one! That brought on my first day of waking up with a clear head in almost 8 weeks. Hallelujah!! Last weekend I helped my dad put on my mom’s 80th Birthday open house. If there had been anyone else to do it I wouldn’t have. As it was, Genna and my Aunt Phyllis were a great help. It did set me back a few days. I guess in a way, thinking back, these things are more important to me than my brain. Seeing it on paper puts it in perspective. I really do need the full function of my brain back. It’s been very hard to not do anything but now looking back, I think, what a blessing…who wouldn’t want to be told to do nothing for 9+ weeks. It would have been nice if it had involved sun and beach, but I’ve enjoyed learning to sit still and reflect and look at the snowflakes falling. I don’t understand why I hit my head so hard or suffered such a severe concussion. I do believe in a God that allows things in our life for a reason. I know that I was very stressed out in the fall. We had just had my daughter’s wedding and started back into school. I felt very overwhelmed and that my house was out of control. Through a lot of prayer, I had just started to get my house under control but I was still out of control. I see now how much. Negative emotion feeds on itself until it grows out of proportion and whether “act of God” or accident, I needed something as severe as a good hit on the head to stop and see what I was doing to my family. I think my family also needed to see how valuable I am to them. Sometimes it’s very easy to take people for granted-trite but true. Last summer a lady that I love prayed over me and told me that I needed to abide in Christ. I thought I knew what that meant but now I see it clearly. My husband thinks it’s the best thing that ever happened to me! It has been a difficult time for him as well-he’s been doing all the driving and a lot of the grocery shopping as well as working on 2 projects at the same time-a strict no-no for him! I am a different person now than I was before but I still catch myself falling into the old stress habit-it’s an addiction-but I’m learning to see it and stop it. I spent many weeks in my room listening to James MacDonald preaching series (one of the few things I could do!) and slowly growing closer to God. For several weeks I tried to focus on a verse just to stop my mind from wandering but I couldn’t even keep one in my head although I’ve spent many long hours at night praying with nothing else to do. My whole family including my husband and I are closer together. My daughter Genna has been faithful to pick me up and take me to the doctor and chiropractor and I’m really thankful for her sacrifices as she lives in St Thomas, I live in Mt Brydges and Dr. Fisher is in London-you do the math! My friend Deanna has driven me places and taken one of my children when the stress was too much. My parents have been faithful to call me and inquire to see how I am every few days…they have never shown me that much concern-shows that they do really love me!(And admonish me to stop that crazy sport!) I return to Fowler-Kennedy next week for more testing. I don’t know how much longer before I fully recover. I really miss writing-it's taken me several weeks to write this. I also miss spending 12 hours a day working on Photoshop and taking pictures. I really want to get back on my skates again, in spite of many people telling me no! I really love my LOCO Derby Team and the hurdles that I've conquered in the last year to learn how to skate and play have been huge for me and very empowering. One of my goals for 2011 is to get really fit and build core strength so that I can skate faster and fall better…but that is weeks and months away. I also pray that whatever God wants me to learn from this…I learn it quick because I’m raring to go!


And if I can figure out what happened to that Relient K cd?


Here are some concussion facts and links. Take the time to learn about this potentially dangerous injury.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Concussion

I believe that a fall I had the week before while setting up my tree may have contributed to the severity. I fell headlong in my living room, landing in a classic derby fall on elbows and knees. I didn't hit my head but discovered that you can get a concussion from a no impact/sudden stop (coup) or even whiplash.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Contrecoup_injury

It is believed that Lou Gehrig’s form of ALS was actually brought on by concussions he received while being knocked unconscious at bat, playing first base and during fights. He showed bravado and played through injuries which often lead to repeated or more severe symptoms.

http://www.bostonspineclinics.com/custom_content/128144_concussion.html

Shaking it off and going back into the game-a common sports injury mistake lead to teen Zach Lystedt’s collapse and resulting seven strokes, near death and eventual handicap- He is permanently disabled.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=llLLz6AG_-s

http://www.canada.com/vancouversun/news/westcoastnews/story.html?id=8ae0b50e-ab85-44c7-ac3b-c989b419107f

Tracy went and played a second game of soccer and is still recovering after 3 yrs.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yIqZDbk3M40&feature=relmfu

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uO-ordcPWSU&feature=related


Click on the “concussion card” link on this page to print out a card to keep with your equipment that outlines signs and steps to follow if you suspect someone has a concussion.

http://www.hockeycanada.ca/index.php/ci_id/7699/la_id/1.htm

A new sideline test helps to determine if someone has a concussion and if they should play again.

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2011/02/110202162041.htm

Rami California

A picture taken by Grace.

Now you tell me!!

Looking for the lost bearing!

 

China Red...safe and sound in the box!

 

It was a very strange weekend!

What?

30% of sport related concussions occurring in women from teenage years to 50’s occur in soccer play. There are no stats on Roller Derby play!

Symptoms

Reverberating:asking repeated question over and over.
Headache
Dizziness
Feeling dazed
Seeing stars
Sensitivity to light
Ringing in ears
Tiredness
Nausea, vomiting
Irritability
Confusion, disorientation
Signs
Poor balance or coordination
Slow or slurred speech
Poor concentration
Delayed responses to questions
Vacant stare
Decreased playing ability
Unusual emotions, personality change, and inappropriate behaviour


http://www.cdc.gov/concussion/sports/recognize.html


As one young man said on a YouTube video: DON’T LISTEN TO SOMEONE WHO HAS JUST HIT THEIR HEAD!!

The Ties That Bind....

I love to bake. And I’m somewhat sentimental. Okay, slightly more than somewhat! My childhood is filled with fond food memories as possibly, yours is, also. I have simple memories of eating Rice Krispies sprinkled with sugar on Saturday morning while reading the comics (after having won them from previous readers!). Remember that last little bit of sugary milk in the bottom of the bowl? I can still remember sitting at my Grandma Cott’s small kitchen table on a regular Saturday night’s visit-we were never sent home without a late night snack. So Grandma assembled us at the kitchen table to eat toast with various toppings before climbing sleepily into a car for a short ride home in which we would invariably nod off only to be rudely awakened or hopefully to be carried in while still blissfully asleep. I have wonderful memories of my Grandma McLean’s Date Turnovers-a soft brown half crescent of rolled molasses dough filled with date filling and pressed tightly closed with fork tine prints around the half circle. Oh, how good those cookies were fresh from the oven! I would often run to my Grandma’s house after school instead of coming home and share something with her….my mark on a project or something that had happened at school and she was always there waiting with some kind of food handout in her warm cozy kitchen. I once asked her for the cookie recipe when I was grown. I can remember it like it was yesterday. She opened the old ivory icebox that she used as a cupboard, reached in and took out a teacup with a missing handle and told me that she uses this cup full of sugar and a certain number of it filled with flour…she lost me there and if I could go back in time, I would have persisted and wrote it down anyway. But I didn’t and so for more than 20 years I have searched for that recipe endlessly! I think I may have found something similar and will be sure to blog about it if it turns out like I remember. My kids laughed when I told them about her brown sugar sandwiches-a piece of bread buttered, with one half thickly spread with brown sugar and the other folded over on the sugar and taken from her soft papery skinned hands to be eaten while swinging on the steel porch chair and ruminating on the day’s events.


I have two cookbooks which regularly take me back to my childhood and which I have decided are my most used and useful cookbooks-The wooden Spoon Dessert Book by Marilyn Moore and Jim Fobel’s Old Fashioned Baking Book- you can never go wrong by making something out of them. They contain the Carrot Cake recipe that always wins at the Fair and the Rhubarb Cobbler Recipe that must be made in early June after an early evening dash to the garden for an armload of fresh Rhubarb. And they also have the Strawberry Rhubarb pie recipe that my daughter claims will bring tears to your eyes! I managed to snag the secret recipe my Aunt Joyce used every year to make Uncle Bill’s birthday cake which was a rich chocolatey cake with fudgy chocolate icing. It turns out that it was the $100 cake (also found in said book) which gets its moist texture from mayonnaise which makes total sense-after all what is mayonnaise? Eggs and oil…perfect cake ingredients. Those cookbooks contain all the old recipes that I remember from my childhood plus what my husband calls the mark of a good cookbook…generous splashes of ingredients from previous baking adventures.

I’m up for making food memories for my children. My eldest daughters, who are the first installations in our 2 part family, lived through our juicing/vegetarian/food combing era with not so fond memories of carrot and beet juice escapades and endless pots of vegetable curry with swollen raisins. Their least favourite memory is of being sent off to bed and hearing the toaster flush and the popcorn maker firing up as they lay hungry in their beds! Their best memories were of Bob Evan’s Salad which was a favourite at our house and the Fit for Life Award Winning Potato Salad. Wait? Whose kid’s favourite recipes were of salads? Greek Salad? Carrot Salad? Bean Salad? Curried Chicken Salad? My younger kids have memories of staying at their Dutch Grandma Van Gelderen’s house and having Grandma’s pancakes before bed-thin batter pancakes, thicker than a crepe and fried in hot oil so that the edges bubble up nice and crispy! They are best served with syrup but also good buttered and coated with a generous topping of brown sugar and rolled up into a tube! My kids claim that I don’t make them the same as Grandma Van. My daughter Amy continues my childhood tradition of an after-school treat of toast buttered and dipped in Maple Syrup (we made our own back then so it was cheap and plentiful!). Aren’t the best memories the simplest ones?

My more recent food memories I’ve made for my family involve a Chocolate Cake with Cayenne pepper nicked named the Sex Cake by a family friend (think Johnny Depp and Chocolate!). It always draws complaints from non-heat lovers because it’s such a sexy looking cake which they refuse to eat! Too bad for you! More for the rest of us! The cake increases in moistness and spiceyness as it ages so it is irresistible and scarce by the third day! It's especially yummy with a good helping of vanilla ice cream to balance the heat and sweetness. My mid August meal of ribs, chicken, fried green tomatoes and corn on the cob is a great memory…especially because it takes almost as long to eat as it does to make! Another longstanding food tradition in our family is the Angel Food cake which my mom or I can whip up from scratch in a few minutes. It is best served with Strawberries and ice cream on a muggy July evening. I’ll never forget my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary when we served a dozen Angel Food cakes with bowls of mixed berries that I had bought frozen and thawed. The men were drawn to them in droves all the while exclaiming, “Who picked all these berries?” I laughed, thinking that it’s May, Boys. There are no berries to be picked in May! I think there may have been some early hunter-gatherer instincts kicking in there to attract them to the girl who picked the best berries!



I think that food memories are the ingredients that bind a family together just like eggs and gluten bind a cake. I recently learned how to make a steamed Christmas pudding for the annual Nethercott family gathering, then took it a step further and made Sticky Date Puddings with the butter/brown sugar/ cream sauce-I think it may have almost killed my husband because he developed a blood clot that Christmas! At least that’s what we blamed it on! It was the Sticky Pudding’s fault! A recent addition to my repertoire is a Lemon Poppy Seed Cake which incorporates my husband’s Dutch heritage (his dad was always up for a good piece of cake with a tiny cup of coffee) and goes over well with that side of the family. The family friend that also emigrated from Holland, Tante Annie, loves the cake and shares my husband’s birthday so I always make her a cake of her own which she splits up and freezes and eats throughout the year. At eighty-two she is full of life and asks about the cake every time we meet! It has become a family favourite. I found the recipe in the LCBO cookbook which they publish several times a year. I know, I know…the LCBO…but the recipes are fabulous and few contain alcohol (although I don’t mind a good Rum flavoured  Christmas pudding sauce myself) and is also the source of another favourite, the Legendary Key Lime Squares! The Lemon Poppy Seed cake binds my husband’s Dutch heritage to my Irish one as I pass over the electric juicer for the chipped glass one that belonged to my dad’s cousin, Helen Abbott, and also I’m sure, her grandmother, Susannah Abbott who is my Great-Great-Grand Mother (Helen never married and stayed in the family home with her brother, Isaac and they maintained the farm for their entire lives). As I twist the lemons over the glass ribs I imagine my Great Great Grandmother’s hands on that juicer and think of the recipes that she has made with it. Perhaps she juiced lemons and oranges to make lemonade to take to the fields for the threshing teams my dad remembers…or perhaps she also juiced lemons to make a cake for the family reunions which were so well attended when I was a baby. And then I realize that her hands guide my hands…a woman I know only from a photo.…carrying on family traditions and building memories which may or may not last, but which bind our lives together as inexorably as the eggs and gluten bind the ingredients of our life’s traditions.



The Abbott Family around 1900

L-R: Robert, James,Isaac, May (my Great Grandmother), Susannah, Frank and Gordon.



A Barn Raising at the Abbotts in the late 1800's.









The Infamous Lemon Poppy Seed Cake and the chipped Lemon juicer.







My Daughter Chloe continuing the tradition by helping with the annual baking of sugar cookies.













 

Lemon Poppy Seed Cake recipe: http://www.lcbo.com/lcbo-ear/RecipeController?action=recipe&language=1&recipeID=2547&recipeType=1



Travelling Arkansas

I’ve met some really strange people in my days on earth. Now I’m not saying they are strange in a negative sense-I’m talking in a more literal sense; literal, as in, say, a Charles Dickens’ character. Now if you’ve read any Dickens, or even just watched the movie versions, you’d be aware of some extreme characterization on Dickens’ part. My most memorable; the Jellybys of course, and then there’s Mr Uriah Heep. Does he exist somewhere in real life? And the unforgettable Flora Fitching, who throws her apron over her head whenever life becomes too much for her.

I think the most unusual character that I have encountered in real life is a hired man that worked for my father doing farm work when I was a kid. My dad seemed to be a veritable magnet for Dickens-ish characters. George “Travelling Arkansas” Ogglesby lived his life as a hobo and roamed through my home town in cycles of the work that was available throughout the year. George or “Arky” as he was fondly known was a short little sawed-off man, with attitude to spare and whom was just few fries short of a Happy Meal. He had piercing blue eyes and no neck and his grissly head looked like the end of a pencil eraser from the back. Arky worked the fairs in the fall and thought of himself as a cattleman, although he only tagged along with one of the more prosperous farmers usually to feed, clean stalls and do whatever grunt work needed to be done. If I happened to attend the Royal Winter Fair in Toronto (where I showed cattle as a teenager), Arky could be found sleeping on a bale of hay in the barns on any given night. He was a personable sort of guy if you were on his good side. I personally, I’m now ashamed to say, did not particularly enjoy being seen riding around in my dad’s truck with him, during hay season or when my dad occasionally employed him to help tear down a building (which was one of my dad’s many sidelines of work). The main reason being: Arky had a weak spot-he did not like long hair, or those sporting it. He called them, without doubt and great prejudice: 'Hippies'.

On any Saturday afternoon, on a street corner in downtown Glencoe-the small town from which I hail-Mr Ogglesby could be found, after his own personal sprucing up at the local barbershop (owned by my mother’s cousin-for those who believe I’m personally related to everyone within 50 miles of Glencoe), standing on the curb shouting obscenities at the local long-haired youth (longer than a buzz cut) and repeatedly telling them to get a haircut. Now, George did not usually start into anyone unless he was provoked and this provoking was usually part of the regular Saturday afternoon entertainment in said small town. One of the boys hanging in front of ‘Ted’s’, the local Chinese restaurant/pinball palace, would invariably tell Arky to get a haircut, thereby ‘starting’ him up so to speak, and once started, Arky would take hours to wind down.

Mr Ogglesby would show up at our house during haying season, as he knew my dad bought standing hay, had it cut, and baled (often with me riding the stooker-another posting!) and loaded onto his pickup by Yours Truly and Mr Ogglesby, which meant that I got the pleasure of riding though town, stuck in the middle, between my dad and George, in a pickup towering with bales of hay. George would usually pick this moment to hang out the window and yell at some long-haired offender as we passed by, while I sunk as low as I could around the stick shift! One of the most mortifying experiences of my entire life occurred during one of these expeditions to another local town, when my dad turned the truck too sharply onto Main Street and dumped half the load of hay out onto the street. Boy, if I could have ever crawled under a vehicle and died on the spot, I would have chosen that exact moment!

Another of George’s character flaws was that when he admired young girls-which he often did-he called them Heifers. Now as a member of the fairer sex, this did not often sit well with me, when George would gape out the truck window at a particularly fine specimen and announce, “Now, there’s a nice young Heifer, Jack.”

My most unnerving experiences with George, though, occurred when we were taking a building down on Main Street to make way for a strip mall. A group of youngsters would walk by and there we would be up on the roof. They would yell out, “Hey, Arky, get a haircut!” and he would roar and nearly jump off the roof at them or pick up a brick and throw it at them. Nothing inconspicuous about it, just in case you didn’t want any of the local boys to notice that you were standing on a half torn-down building, wearing a Newbury Dinner Jacket (private joke), work boots and holding a pry bar.

The home place sported plenty of piles of lumber that my dad had trucked home and sold, so Arky would show up there when work was scarce, to pull nails. I think he showed up when he was hungry, actually. Arky couldn’t have been taller than 5’ 2” and perhaps 120 lbs but he did have a rather large belly and a food storage capacity that I’m sure came from long stretches between meals. When he ate at our house, he tended to stock up. Lunch at home always consisted of meat and potatoes and gravy and is still to this day called ‘dinner’ by my parents. My mom would often cook pork sausages and make gravy with it. In the South, they call it ‘white gravy’-I just call it bland gravy-but George loved it. A plate of bread was always set out with every meal at my parents’ and if the meat was scarce as it often was, then you supplemented with a slice of bread slathered with gravy. Now George knew a good thing when he saw it. I think he often walked the three miles from town, salivating the entire time as he thought about my mom’s gravy. George would finish the meat and potato course and then start in on the bread and gravy course. He would take a slice of bread from the stack with a flourish, swoop it onto his plate and carefully and lovingly ladle gravy over it all the while stating, “My, that sure is good gravy, Lois.”

My father, the enabler that he is, would push the plate with the stack of bread, over closer and say, “Help, yourself, George. You never know when you’re going to get another meal.” I swear my mother enabled as well by making extra gravy when George was around. He could eat over half a loaf of bread and the spread of gravy would get thinner and thinner but he would keep going. If there was a trophy for style and stamina in Gravy Eating, George would have taken it-hands down! After dinner, he would push away from the table and thank my mom, then head outside. Dad always said that George didn’t get much done for the first while after dinner because he couldn’t bend over. I never saw him split his pants, but it wouldn’t have surprised me if he did!

My dad liked to tease him about the type of truck he dreamed about. George wanted a two-quarter ton pickup truck. He talked about it often. My dad would ask, “Are you sure you don’t want a half ton, George?”

“Nope! I said a two-quarter ton, Jack!”

George lived through the winter months in a tiny house by the town dump. I’m sure he must have qualified for social assistance somehow but his later years were rough. He developed diabetes and eventually lost a leg. My dad would always buy him a shirt or something useful for Christmas, no matter how little we had and get my mom to make up a package of baking and take it in to him on Christmas Eve. He continued to attend all the fairs in his wheel chair and could still handle a pitch fork. He wanted to be self sufficient. They don’t make them like that anymore. I hated having George around as a teenager. I’m sure I sulked through many meals, begrudging him every slice of bread he took. I know for sure I hated riding around with him in my dad’s pickup. But my dad knew more about George than I did, for all my teenage wisdom. He knew that he was alone in the world with the exception of a few distant relatives. The meals that he ate at our table were probably the closest he ever came to eating with family. My dad also knew that he needed respect. Respect back then was measured often by how hard you were willing to work and George was not looking for handouts. He may not have been the smartest tool in the shed, but he knew the reward and decency of a hard day’s work.

I’m sure that there are those who still remember Arky and pass stories about him; I know I do. I remember him as a real character and in spite of his simple values and low IQ, I respect him now and even more I respect my dad’s uncanny ability to take the Underdog and the Unlovely, make them feel loved and give them that little bit of respect that everyone needs.

Breaking her in-the calf that is!

  Showing my calf at the local fair as a teenager.

My sons with my oldest daughter, modelling the Newbury Dinner Jacket

*White gravy (sawmill gravy in Southern U.S. cuisine) is the gravy typically used in biscuits and gravy and chicken-fried steak. It is essentially a béchamel sauce, with the roux being made of meat drippings and flour. Milk or cream is added and thickened by the roux; once prepared, black pepper and bits of mild sausage or chicken liver are sometimes added. Besides white and sawmill gravy, common names include country gravy, milk gravy, and sausage gravy. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gravy