Back again, finally!

Can you believe it? A month with no blog. I'm embarrassed. It's not like nothing has been happening. It's just that my "routine" seems to leave little time for writing. Or else I am slothful. Possibly. Actually, for sure!

Let's see…mostly mild weather all month; no -30 days yet. I have kept up the week-day swimming  with no angina mishaps. I just get tired after a half hour. I have rarely attempted a 45 minute swim, although I still have "plans" to do it in two parts, 25 minutes, rest, then 20 minutes. Sounds good when I say it. Feels different in the pool when I get to 25 minutes. I can hardly wait for the next five to be over so I can stop! Sloth? Lack of determination, mostly.

On the medical front, I finally had the cystoscopy, and that confirmed another surgery is coming on February 16, as I suspected. Not exactly major surgery, but serious enough. I've had two of these before, once in 1991, another a few years ago (I can't remember the year). That will mean three of four nights in the Red Deer Hospital - not my favourite place. I imagine a few more days at home, then back to normal. It says here.

Of more concern to me than physical sloth is the fact that I am having a difficult time focusing on anything as far as writing goes. Columns are hard now, as well as preparing for Sunday worship. Perhaps my rain telling me that, at 81, it's time to stop this stuff. I actually don't want to hear that. I'd like to keep on, but I am not sure where to find the motivation, or energy.

I keep looking at the books I need to cull, as well as my closet that needs weeding, but neither get done. I'm reading a lot. At the moment a really interesting book entitled What Soldiers Do. It's about (so far) the bad behaviour of the US army in France after the Normandy invasion in 1944. The researcher maintains that Yankee troops were much more destructive and contemptuous of the French than either the Brits or the Canadians. Lots of robbery, rape and general mayhem, with little intervention by the US military command. The author goes on examine the US attitude to France generally after the 1940 surrender of the French Army. Quite a fascinating read for a history buff.

We are slowly refocusing our attention on the move to Wetaskiwin. That won't happen for awhile, but many of our in-house actions move us in that direction. People who know are AMAZED that we don't plan on staying in Ponoka after Beatrix retires. I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying "What would hold us here, in a community that is so conservative and (frankly) racist?" Wetaskiwin has three big factors in its favour. Our doctor is there, they have a great hospital, and a brand spanking new swimming pool! What more could I want?  

Christmas Eve

It's December 24, a few hours short of a month since I wrote here. I have no particular excuse for being absent. It has been a full month, but not a wildly busy time for me. I guess part of it is that I have a daily routine, which I apparently follow virtually every day, so that an "extraneous" activity like writing has no assigned place.

Routine is one of the ways I order my life to give it some meaning. I'm not involved in any grand scheme or activity - sometimes I think I should be - but the end of the day comes quickly each and every day.  The one activity in which I engage is my morning swim. I chug up and down the pool for 30 - 45 minutes every weekday morning, careful to go slowly, so as not to provoke an angina attack. So far, so good, and I do puff and sweat in the doing of it. A good workout. I have mostly abandoned walking for the winter. Too slippery. I fell once last year and became aware that this is how old folks break hips. I slid down once earlier this winter - no hard fall - but a warning I will heed, now that I have found an alternative. I ache afterwards, shoulder and knees, but that's common at my age.

I rejoice in the pool, and think, and pay attention to my body and how it speaks to me. I suppose that's a continuation of recovery. It never ends. When you are 81, it's recovery or rapid decline. Decline comes anyway, but I resist it as much as I am able.

One thing that has occupied my thoughts and reflections through this December is the deepening power of consumerism on all of us. I spent two part-days in the Bower Mall in Red Deer a few frantic faces around me, although clearly some people appeared to be enjoying themselves. The shops seemed desperate in their displays, a concomitant of our sagging economy here in Alberta. Many people are out of work who have become accustomed to "the Life" as I call it. You know: a fifth wheel, a big truck, snow mobiles and ATV's, all on payments. When the income shrinks, the pressure is acute, and unfamiliar. It's been awhile since Alberta's had a "bust", and everybody was comfortable in the "boom." So Christmas is hard for many. Food bank usage is up, the unemployment rate is higher than the national average, and many people are afraid and angry. After a few years of good living, the arrival of austerity feels like your being cheated, having become used to good living. Not a pleasant prospect. There's been a lot of talk about this at Tim's as pensioners look at their shrinking wallets.

At a more personal level, this Christmas has brought one change to my
'celebration' of the season. I failed to put up a Christmas tree. First time ever. The reason is terribly practical. I was afraid of wrestling and struggling with a tree, fearful of upper body exertion that would spark an angina attack. I remembered the trials of last year, putting up a lovely tree. Neither of us can stomach a fake tree, which leaves me with a dilemma. I'm not happy with no tree, but fearful of the task of putting it up. I'll have to figure out a solution before next year, because I don't want to do this again. I wonder how many other 80+ year olds feel in the same boat? I'll ask around over the next few weeks.

Our friends the Chans will be here tonight, and will stay for Christmas. On Boxing day - my birthday - Beatrix and I will go to Edmonton to tour the Legislature, and look at the Magna Carta, which is here until the 29th of December. I'm looking forward to that.

Hopefully, it won't be another month before I write again. In the meantime, whatever your faith, or lack of it, enjoy the holiday, religious or secular, in good health. See you in 2016!

November

It's been almost a month since I posted here. Not surprising, as it was a quiet and humdrum month! Most of what happened was routine; snow tires on, doctors visited, volunteer commitments fulfilled, political meetings attended.

This month we began looking at appropriate places to live in Wetaskiwin, a task which prodded us in to the start of a purging process of our possessions. It is amazing what you collect after 13 years in one place. We have tons of "stuff"- as George Carlin called it -  to get rid of. Some to sell, and some to just junk.

I spent some anxious moments trying to figure out what is an "appropriate" amount of exercise to engage in, without triggering an angina attack. Swimming seems to be best way to go. I can backstroke quite steadily for 30 minutes with no consequences. Walking is more chancy. I can get the pace right, but the cold air to breathe is a problem, according to my physician. I may stop walking and just swim every day until spring. We'll see.

All of this has added a new dimension to the concept of "recovery." Caution has to be introduced, and boundaries set, and a certain amount to risk undertaken, to find out what is possible and safe, while being beneficial in the way of exertion. For reasons I can't articulate, I have grown my beard out. It looks fine, and I'm still trying to figure out why it seemed important to do this!

We haven't made any headway in Christmas preparation. Too much other stuff in the way. This week has got to be the start. Christmas letter to write, gift shopping planned and done. All very domestic and dull, but seasonally important. It's amazing how anxiety interferes with normal life and normal tasks, siphoning off energy and attention from ordinary life.

I'll try to be more regular with postings in December, but that may depend on something noteworthy happening. Perhaps the adventure of getting a tree will spur me on!

Still here!

Almost the end of October, and I haven't posted in a month! Busy month, including a visit to Ottawa to see Jennifer and the boys. Great talks with all four of them - young adults now, only one left in High School. Others are studying…engineering, paramedic studies, drama and business. All on their way. Good visits with Jennifer and friend Balou.

Downside of the month: the return of urological symptoms, and a visit to ER for that. The joys of ageing. Also, a brief visit from angina…first time, bringing on new meds. Something else to monitor and deal with.

I had my first walk of the month this morning, and look forward to a swim in the morning. My physician reminds me to pace myself, and not go at it too strongly. Words to heed, if I plan to live awhile longer.

Winter has blown its frosty breath across our community. The wind was biting this morning, a harbinger of things to come. I have always loved winter, although now it takes more to keep me warm than previously. As I write, I am resolving to be more regular on this page, and to try and share some of the reading I'm doing. Currently, the Last Asylum, a true account of the closure of the last "Lunatic Asylum" in the UK. The author was a patient there a few times, as well as being a fine historian. Her own story and that of the institution in rewarding, especially for one who spent some time working in psychiatric institutions.

One gift I brought home from Ottawa is a bundle of neatly pressed maple leaves, all red and yellow. This national symbol is not found in our part of the country, do is novel to have. I stuck them all over our kitchen cupboards to welcome me home.

Back! Sort of…

I've been missing in action for a week or two. Not away, just "missing." A combination of distraction, ennui and a growing sense of "what the hell?" The dragging-on-forever election is one reason. A needed change in medication another. Lack of sleep factors in there somewhere.

I know, I know, "Excuses, excuses…" But I have not been feeling up to snuff recently, and hopefully, my medical consultation today will change that. On the plus side, I did have the energy to swim a full kilometre today, first time in a while. Hopefully I can do that again soon. It feels so…good!

I'll be glad when the election is over, although if it turns out badly for the left-of-centre people like me, I'll be crushed. More whining will ensue. I will stop for the day, since I literally have nothing useful to say. Wouldn't it be great if more on-line writers did the same?

Reminiscence…and grief

As part of our planning to move in the next two years, we are beginning to divest ourselves of a lot of "stuff." A lot of books have already gone. Beatrix has tackled her office closet. The other day I decided to begin the same process in my office. I started with the most personal part of the office; the filing cabinet. I began that task with the most personal drawer in the cabinet, the bottom drawer, where a lot of personal material resides. That became an intensely painful time.

The bottom drawer contains, among other things, the fat files of my mother's papers, and another of my father's papers. Suddenly, I was cast back to the late 80's, when the two of them died, six months apart. I haven't looked at that material for over twenty years - a form of denial, I am sure.

Birth certificates, pictures, hand written notes, immigration papers, and a wealth of family tree material. I was overcome with grief and sadness, which clings to me yet, over 24 hours later. I traced my parents' families back as far as 1790. I encountered names I had long forgotten, like Erasmus Trowsse, a great great great uncle. I discovered the Lindsay family on my father's side, and that I am very distantly related to the former Mayor of New York City , John Lindsay. The information and its emotional meaning still swirls round in my brain. I feel overwhelmed and burdened with it. It's like my parents died just a few days ago, and I am only now starting to mourn them and the long families that trail behind them.

I had the presence of mind to make copies of everything family tree related, so I can pass it to my children. They will do as they like with it. I am fearful that I will do little more than read it over again, to try and take it in. I feel disappointed in myself that I didn't deal with this material twenty years ago. Another regret.

Today I began another drawer, and encountered files of sermons I preached in the 60's, 70's and 80's. I suddenly want to read them all, and cling to them. Why? I have ignored and forgotten them for decades. But they take me back. I read a funeral meditation I gave at the service of an old psychiatric colleague with whom I worked in Winnipeg. He died in the 70's. I was able to read and recall him well, a strong man who hid his amazing history from most of us until his family told us at the end of it all. I was quite eloquent over a man I knew and cared deeply about.

Reading an old letter of mother's, I came face to face with the warmth she radiated all the time I knew her. Seeing my father Certificate of Proficiency from the St John's Ambulance Corps, dated January 1923, just a few months before he came to Canada. Afresh surprise was discovered on a neatly printed card where he had quoted a full poem by Goethe, focused on faith and love. This, from the hand of an agnostic who had me thinking all my life that he was an atheist!

These papers will not go out. I will read them again and again, and recover my deceased parents with a  fondness that suddenly wells up in me. Surely the remainder of my culling can't be more painful or revealing than this. Or could it be?

September song, part 1

It has been awhile. Blame it on reintegration at home, as well as ramping up of the election campaign Federally. The latter has seen me running around, erecting signs on lawns where people have asked for them, and making arrangements for a Candidate Kickoff meeting which was held last evening.

The Federal election campaign has been most interesting. The governing Conservatives have been taking a hard time in the media and in the polls. A scandal inside the PM's office, the appointment if crooked Senators currently before the courts, as well as rogue candidates being fired and replaced, has left the Pm scrambling to try and stay on message - unsuccessfully. The current Syrian refugee crisis is giving him grief as well.

The two more progressive parties, The Liberals and the New Democrats, have been jousting for first place in the runnings. The Liberals have a charismatic pretty face as leader, deemed by many to be too young and inexperienced to be PM, while the ND's have a seasoned political vet, with lots of experience in the Quebec National Assembly, as well as generally more progressive policies. The campaign is just now, after 6 weeks, beginning to ramp up and get exciting. The next 6 weeks will tell a more complete tale.

I had a lovely visit in Didsbury with a former student; mostly a sharing of current aging woes as well as dreams for the future. I got myself a new tattoo - the Strachan family crest - on my right forearm. This will probably be all for the time being; no more arm space, and lots of pondering before tattoos anywhere else.

I've noticing lately some deterioration in my physical condition. I gained a few pounds on vacation - about 5 - and I have been having trouble losing them. I also notice that my knees are more painful than previously. My morning walks are more of a challenge. the knee braces I purchased on vacation help a good deal, but there is no denying that things are worse in that area. My back, too, is slower to respond to treatment and rest. Almost 81, so I suppose I can't expect anything different. We've both been taking a new herbal remed, the pure version of Turmeric. It is reportedly really good for the reduction of inflammation. I'm watching for even limited improvement.

I've been watching both email and the post for news of my mail-in ballot arriving, as well as the application for a license to marry a couple in Toronto in Ontario. Vital Stats in Ontario have a very rigorous process for the obtaining of a day license. They must have had some bad experiences, or else they have a dragon for a supervisor.

My reading ability has been a bit compromised by an eye problem, and I've wandered away from serious reading for a bit.  Novels are fine, but my brain is currently lazy about absorbing heavier stuff. Soon, perhaps. More in a few days, I hope.