Pretty Paper

As I sit here staring at my Christmas tree in all its glory, listening to Christmas carols and waiting for my cookies to bake. I am suddenly struck by the song that is playing…its "Pretty Paper" by Roy Orbison. Man how I love this song; it has a purity about it that I just love; I now know why my grandmother loved this song so. (I admit I don't know if she liked Willie Nelson's version better, but I know she loved this song)

I sit and I start to daydream about all the stories that my mom has told me about growing up and her mom preparing the Christmas dinner. My grandma was a small woman but she was feisty no one messed with her when she spoke, but she had a kindness that only grandmothers know how to have. She would stay up until all hours of the night getting everything ready; setting the table with a crisp white tablecloth; ensuring that there were no creases in it. Putting her nice china out; folding the napkins just so and always having a bowl of ribbon candy in the middle of the table. She was like an elf busy at work; baking cookies, preparing the bird, making her famous lapuchine (Christmas pudding cake) and wrapping those last minute gifts they had picked up in town earlier that day; all the while listening to her Christmas Carols. I wonder if the kids actually slept at all that night; knowing that Santa was coming…how could anyone sleep. 

I wonder what smells they would smell, I wonder what their favourite part of that night was, and I wonder how excited they were. I chuckle to myself as I think of the little ones as my grandma is shuffling from room to room getting all set up. She did this for as long as my mom can remember; just to see the smile creep across my mom's face when she re-lives her cherished memories. Oh how I wish I could've been there to see all of that. In my own memory bank I think back to the old house where my mom grew up and I imagine my granny putzing around, getting ready for the big day tomorrow. With the pots boiling on the stove, the counters full of her baking, the table being pristinely set. I can imagine all of this and am enjoying the thought of it...

Just as I have this thought the timer goes off for my own cookies and for a brief moment I enjoy the last few lines of my grandma's favourite song and wonder if my kids will have the same memories of me?

A Lost Art...

Here I sit looking at the few Christmas cards I have received this year; this is a far cry from the number that I had sent out. But that is not my point, my point is...Is this just a silly tradition or something that has been forgotten in our society? I find with how technological everything is that we've forgotten how to compose a hand written anything. There was a time when receiving a Christmas card was an honour; not everyone could afford to purchase paper let alone ink. This was something that came from a very well to do family and you had a warm feeling inside of you when opening this heartfelt wish. Just knowing that in their busy lives they took the time to let you know that you are in their thoughts.

Not to mention the postal service, the people who had to deliver this to you. Just how much they went through so that you could open the card and know that someone special was thinking about you. They would take these letters on horse drawn wagons across extreme heat or extreme cold. Not knowing what was in there just knowing that it was their duty to get this letter delivered to you.

Where have those days gone? When people took the time to write and I mean handwrite a little meaningful note inside. Oh how I miss these days of running to the mailbox anticipating who would send a card to me or even a letter. There was a time not too long ago that writing letters was the norm; but now its text messaging, email and any other gadget that can send your message without any delay…or any emotion. To me this is the true sense of writing a letter or Christmas card, the emotion. We have come so far that in this new age; we've lost our sense of true gratitude of taking the time out of our busy lives to sit down and write something to someone. It's easy enough to send a text but do your true feelings come across? Don't get me wrong I do use the technological advances to my favour; but there is just something to be said about handwriting anything to someone you know. Despite the low number of return cards, I am still going to keep the tradition going…so look forward to receiving a Christmas card from me. And maybe just maybe I've made you think twice about sending out Christmas cards...

Who Do We Really Know?

I went to a funeral last month for a man that I met only once. Our one encounter was very vivid in my mind as I sat in the pew of this tiny chapel. The day I met him, it was a beautiful sunny summer day. We got the news that he was stricken with cancer and was just recently released from the hospital and was residing at the lake. When my boyfriend heard the news we were on our way to go and see him. I decided to go along for the ride and meet the infamous "rodent" as he was lovingly called. At first glance his cottage left little to the imagination for its rustic-ness. The chair in his front yard under the large spruce tree was actually quite humorous, I secretly wondered if he ever sat in it...

After tapping on the screen door a couple of times, we were greeted by a very fragile looking character. I knew instantly why he got his name; he was hunched over and skinny but very alert. We both walked in and as we followed him into his living room, where by the way he was watching TV...I couldn't help but notice the true charm of the place.

He asked if we wanted anything and we declined stating that we were only there for a minute to see how he was doing. He was very open about it all; there were no secrets, just plain facts. As we relished in his stories of chemo-therapy, people in the hospital and his frequent visitors. I couldn't help but pay close attention when his finger pointed to a bowl sitting on his coffee table...there in the bowl were a handful of turtles, individually wrapped in their trademark orange and gold wrapper. Just sitting there gleaming as if they knew we were talking about them; at first I didn't pay much attention until I heard him say that it really meant a lot for those two particular visitors to come all the way to the hospital and see him; especially to bring him those candies. He didn't get that it was something that people do on a regular basis; he was just so touched to have people like that in his life. I felt my heart start to crumble as he told us this story; you could see his emotions in his eyes...it was true and utter gratitude.

I haven't ever seen this emotion since that day in his cottage...and there I sat in the chapel wondering what other memories he had to offer to the others in this room. I just hope that they were as good as mine with the man I had met once.

My Old Grey Sweater

There in the bottom of my drawer sat my old grey sweater; all crumpled, tattered and stained. I grabbed it smushing it to my face and took a deep breath inhaling all the memories that came with it.

The sleeves (what was left of them) and the stains were all a part of what made it so special. When I would be making spaghetti sauce I would splatter sauce all over the arm of the sweater. Oddly enough I wasn't in any hurry to go and clean it off, I felt it would give it more character. Even the time I was eating a chocolate fudge sundae and I dropped some chocolate sauce on the logo just below my shoulder. I merely rubbed it in and to this day that stain is still there. I can tell you how every stain got on this sweater and why I was wearing it; it's almost like all the stains have their own little story of how they became a part of the sweater and its comfort.

The way I would feel when I pulled it over my head. How I never felt fat it in, how I loved the way it fell on my hips…giving the illusion that I was slimmer than I really was. It did all the things a friend would do, except it was a piece of clothing. One that as I stared at it was telling me that it's time to let go, its work is done here. It's been with me through thick and thin. Times when I didn't think I would ever stop crying, times when I just wanted to be alone, times when I was happy and times when I was sad.

To know that I would come home and put this sweater on whenever I wanted to would soon be a distant memory. I had to face reality, this sweater has done its job and I had to let it go. Was I ready for that? I don't know...but would I ever be ready to let it go?

So there I sat with this sweater in my one hand and the donation bag in the other. How could I let it go, it's been there through everything! As I stared down at this sweater that could tell a million stories, I realized it was time to pass on this healing sweater to someone who needed it more than I did. I know I’ll find another sweater like my old one...but right now I don't need one anytime soon.

He will be Remembered

Today is the day that my Uncle Lornie (Clarence) lost his battle with cancer…

He was such a good man, so generous, so giving, such a good sense of humor. He was a self-taught musician; he could play any instrument given to him. He's been playing for such a long time that music was second nature to him. He has won numerous awards and prizes for singing and music contests. Anywhere within a 50KM radius, you would find him with his fiddle or guitar in his hand waiting to go on stage…

Did I also mention that he was blind? Yep, he was blind at such a young age. He was able to see everything that went on around him even without his eyes. His instincts and his ear for music were astounding. It only took a few times for him to listen to a track and then be playing and singing it. We all envied that he took the time to really feel the music; and it showed in his playing.

My mom still talks about how he would make her and her sisters all sing; whether it was to harmonize or whether it was to sing the lead vocals. He was always pushing them to their possible best. Being the oldest child I believe that comes with a lot of responsibility, one that he was willing to take on. I mean really having 7-8 younger siblings wasn't an easy task; but he was always there for all of them when they needed some advice or guidance.

He lived his life for so long with what society would call a disability, but we never saw it that way. I don't know if it was because he was blind for so long that we were accustomed to it or because he wouldn't let us see it that way. Amazing how one person can guide your perception and allow us to have a better understanding and acceptance of blindness. I have got to give him kudos for leading such a long, healthy and happy life.

He was a big man for a reason, not only because of his big heart, but because of his big sense of humor. He had nicknames for all my Aunts, even a select few of his nieces and nephews were lucky enough to get a nickname…mine was 'Brown Sugar'. I will always cherish that fact and I will miss him.

But I know that he is gone to a better place, where he will be joined by his 'Gypsy' (his mom), his Dad, his sisters, Frances, Edna and Catharine (who passed away at age 4, but continued to play with him after her death), his son Henry (whom he cradled in his arms) his niece Martinique and many other relatives and friends.

I sometimes wonder if he is able to see now. But then the thought crosses my mind that it doesn't matter if he could use his eyes or not…he always could see. May his hands always have an instrument within them; so he can continue to play his heartfelt music…and on that one clear day, may we be lucky enough to hear it.

Ode to the Ball Team

I just re-read my last blog entry and was a bit saddened as I didn't encompass all that I was feeling when ball ended. I felt I missed out on some very important factors of why I had such a good season this year.

Yes, I will admit I sucked it up pretty bad near the end of the season; but I chalked it up to just too much going on in life. I really, truly had a great season this year! Not because I hit well, or because I played well but because of the friendships that I formed. The newly acquired friendships that I will probably have for many more years to come! I met these people randomly; and I really truly mean that. I literally one day talked to someone who mentioned to someone else that I was looking for a team and poof...my wish was granted! I came home to a message on my answering machine that I was to call Kimmie back regarding ball; so I did and I liked her instantly! I remember saying to myself; I liked her and I couldn't wait to play.

A week later there I was in a ball field, in Beaumont practicing with some new people who I didn't know. But being a ball player that happens a lot and really on a regular basis; you end up playing for someone who got hurt and they need a girl...so you go. It's like the 'Brotherhood of Ball'. I'll never forget after that practice I looked forward to the new season and couldn't wait to play with them all.

After we were able to get the garbage out of us; we finally pulled together as a team, not only because it was the beginning of the season but because we were all starting to come together as a team. I loved it! The comradery of the team brought me back to the times growing up in a small town playing with everyone that you knew because you all grew up together. I felt that with them, and loved every minute of it! I'd been searching for that same feeling since 1998 and I've finally found it! So not only was I saying goodbye to the game, but to my new summer friends!

Pulling my jersey's out of the dryer for one last time made me think to the laughs and the fun. The Spitz, the booze and the G-Spot (garage); all places I that I can't wait to see again!

So here's to my new Summer friends; who I can't wait to see again!

And so Ends Another Season

Yep, that's it...ball is done. I can't believe another season has come and gone so quickly. It feels like only yesterday I was complaining about how crappy I was doing; Oh wait that was only last week! LOL

Even after the complaining I am still sad to have to pack away the ol' ball bag. Which by the way isn't so old anymore...I've upgraded to a new pink model! But just having the pack it away and knowing that it'll be sitting in storage for the next 9 months still breaks my heart.

How do I get over this? Well, there really isn’t ways to have the feelings go away; they just do over time. I know despite my complaining of my poor play at the end of the season, I will still miss it. I will long for the days when the sun is shining, the grass is green and the world is my ball field.

So here is to another season, it may not have been my best but I still loved it anyway!