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 |    My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| I do not know quite what happened or when , but my hubby and I now qualify for seniors' discounts at some venues. This creates a quandary; in order to save money, but not face, we have to admit to our age. HMMMM..... We definitely do not consider ourselves to be old. In this day and age ,when people as a whole are living longer and healthier lives why are 'young seniors', those in their fifties, like moi, considered 'old'?? It's so true that age is just a perception! "Maturity" is very objective/subjective, and I object! Whew, a few years have skittered by since I composed this biography block. Those "fifties" are in the rear view mirror and they are distant, fond memories. Oh, I do not plan to stop writing any time soon. |
Sunday's prompt; Tell us about a famous person or persons who lives or came from your Home Sweet Home I know, I know. I'm Canadian and because of this people have expectations. They presume I am born to like hockey. The so-called national obsession is supposed to flow in my veins as does maple syrup. Ah no, hockey is not my thing, my jam, my raison d'etre. Oh, I recognize hockey-isms. I've absorbed them despite my indifference. Hat trick, gloves thrown, high-sticking, penalties, icing, an assist, whatever ,I'm aware of hockey. I just don't choose to become a slobbering fan. My mother, God bless her enthusiasm, had more than enough hockey fervor for several citizens. During my childhood we would abandon Mom in the den located in the basement on Hockey Night in Canada. We did this to preserve our sanity, our dignity. Neighbours ten houses away heard Mom scream and cheer. The poor couch suffered abuse as she jumped and pounded it. Despite my indifference, my son is also a die-hard hockey devotee and he chooses to support the mystifying underdogs, the Toronto Maple Leafs. He lives each agonizing defeat and floats on cloud nine when they rally to a win. Why do I babble on about hockey? Well, my home sweet home, l'il ol' Sundridge's claim to infamy is its bragging rights to not one, but three sons of hockey. Yep, three lads were born here to one day make their hometown proud. I know this because I consulted the almighty Google. Future hockey great Bill McCreary entered this world December 2nd, 1934. He followed hockey and all its ups and downs to The New York Rangers, The Detroit Red Wings, the Montreal Canadiens and the St. Louis Blues. Keith Mc Creary, born June 19th, 1940 played hockey for the Montreal Canadiens, the Pittsburgh Penguins and the Atlanta Flames. The third hockey enthusiast of note, Greg DeVries, was born January 4th, 1973. Two of the teams he wore a jersey for were the Edmonton Oilers and the Colorado Avalanche. I prefer to recognize a woman born in Sundridge, Mary S. Edgar. She made her grand entrance May 23rd, 1889. Her claims to fame? She wrote poetry and hymns.God Who Touchest Earth With Beauty has been reprinted in many church hymnals and its beautiful words have been immortalized in a local stone cairn. My Nanny gifted me one of Miss Edgar's books of poetryUnder Open Skies and as a child the included autograph/signature awed me. She was also an entrepreneur and business woman. In 1922, Mary Susanne created a girls' camp, Glen Bernard, on the shores of Lake Bernard. She enjoyed all things camping and wished to introduce this to others. The camp still operates today and strives to be a leader in environmental issues. On the opposite side of Lake Bernard sits a gorgeous park known as High Rock Lookout. Miss Edgar donated this parcel of land to Sundridge. Now this woman left a legacy.( 529 words minus the 19 words of the prompt) |
| Saturday Night Drive-In Movie Prompt - Take a drive down memory lane and arrive at the Drive-In Theater. (circa ????) Tell us about your first experience attending a Drive-in movie. Be as descriptive as your memory allows. Only write about your very first experience. We'll have 3 more Saturday night Drive-in prompts this month. Brother Nature Sig #3 Made in Canada Imagine three kids racing for the family car, jostling, okay, shoving each other as they hollered,"Shotgun!" Our father had announced he had a treat planned for us and all we had to do to discover this surprise involved our following his command that always signaled something fantastic. When he pushed back his chair from the supper table, jangled the car keys and ordered, "Say goodbye to your mother," we hustled. At the ol' Pontiac we hip-checked each other as we scrabbled to climb into the front passenger seat. The two 'losers' were left to grumble and tumble into the back. Dad had not teased us with any clues. We had no idea where we were going. Could the impromptu ride end at a store offering ice cream? Perhaps we'd stop at the park to run around and burn off some energy? Our questions hung in the air unanswered. My younger brother and sister amused themselves lowering and raising the windows, cranking the handle over and over. I swung my legs and shimmied back and forth on the slippery vinyl. No seatbelts cinched us tight, or restricted our movements. They would become mandatory in the distant future. Before our fidgeting ' got on dad's last nerve' he steered off the road and braked behind a line of vehicles, red tail lights glowing. We could see bobbing heads. In fits and starts we inched forward towards a strange shed-like structure with a sign 'Box Office.' When we stopped beside it, Dad nodded at the young woman who leaned out an open window. "Three kids and me," he drawled. He chuckled when she shook her head. "You're brave." With four white tickets clutched in one hand, our chauffeur nudged our chariot under an arch of twinkling rainbow-hued bulbs. A ginormous field, an open area of gravel and grass spread out in front of us. Parked cars and trucks stretched in rows. The most gigantic all white screen rose up from the ground. Children scampered and shrieked as they climbed yellow metal slides, or swung from blue swings. The chains clanked and squeaked. Our noses twitched as we smelled fresh popcorn. Dad maneuvered into a spot next to a black metal pole topped by a black box tethered by a cable. As he pulled this box into the car and then hooked it to his window Dad proclaimed, "Welcome to the drive-in. Wanna see some movies?" After fiddling with a switch music emanated from the speaker box. Our heads swiveled to see everything. Dad shooed us away to join the kids at the playground. According to him, the first movie would not start until 'dusk.' We shrugged. Whatever dusk was it hadn't happened yet. We whooped it up until the sun faded and something magical occurred. Flickering lights illuminated that humongous screen. Our lengthening shadows shared space with dancing, flipping cartoon hot dogs. Candy and popcorn marched in a parade of snack foods pounding drums and blowing bugles. We learned this cartoon signaled the first movie would now begin. Car horns blared and headlights flashed. We kids raced back to join our father. He greeted us with a cardboard tub of fresh, buttered popcorn. Dramatic music boomed and words skipped across the screen. Now I recognize this to be opening credits. As the sky darkened and the moon rose figures battled before our unblinking eyes. Apes dressed in clothing spoke. They spoke English. They expressed emotions. They imprisoned people. They seemed bemused by their captives. We were viewing Planet of the Apes, the original version. Kind of a twist for impressionable kids. After this first movie finished and during a pause, Dad encouraged us to settle down and sleep. From somewhere he'd produced blankets and pillows. Sleep? We had other plans. We wrestled. We kicked. We tickled. We jumped from the back seat to the front seat, and vice versa. At some point during the second film my baby sister gave in. Without a whimper she curled up and succumbed to slumber. I could not. The bigger-than-life moving pictures, the non-stop action, the rousing score , the dramatic dialogue keyed me up. I became hooked, engrossed, fascinated. Sleep? Impossible! I enjoyed every moment of that first introduction to the drive-in. ' |
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