Remembrance Day: An AB Seaman falls into The King’s Arms Pt 1

That my father, an AB or Able Bodied Seaman (and later a Leading Seaman upon SS Silver Walnut), wrote a collection of stories about his WW11 navy experiences is perhaps a small miracle.

He almost didn’t make it through one skill-building training exercise.


In a book entitled The Canadian Amphibious War 1941 - 1945 he tells about a night exercise that took place near Troon, Scotland (50 km. SW of Glasgow).

His craft (an ALC) ran aground on a sandbar and he, along with two others, jumped into the water to rock the boat.

“So we worked our a---s off to free the ALC,” he writes, “and we were successful.”

“Bailey and Koyl were able to get (back) aboard. I wasn’t and they drove off and left me out in the water. I thought, how is the flotilla commander going to find me? This is unbelievable!”

Fortunately, after the landing exercise was finished (about two hours later), his commander returned to the area, and with the help of an Aldis lamp, found dad swimming on his back in nothing but his uniform pants.

Some of Dad’s final words on the subject read, “I don’t know how he knew where to locate me. My hands were all wrinkled and I felt all in.”

I mention the misadventure in next week’s column.

However, I leave out what happened once dad’s ALC returned to home base.

***

Stay tuned.

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Remembrance Day, Wednesday, Nov. 11, 2009

Below is a reproduction of a photo that hangs near by work bench.


The ship, the SS Silver Walnut survived WW11 with many of its crew after being involved in the invasion of Sicily in 1943.

In later years, my father, one of the AB seaman who had been onboard, wrote:

"Our escort ships appeared far too small and far too few, but the supply of war ships was stretched to the breaking point at this time in the war, April 1943. We headed south (toward the southern tip of Africa) on a murky day on a quiet sea."

Some of the young men aboard the SS Silver Walnut (that travelled from Wallasey and Liverpool to Port Said in the Gulf of Aden in ‘43 on the way to the invasion of Sicily) didn't return home.


Gordon Douglas Harrison, 23 years old at the time, with wavy hair and sitting in the back row between two men with caps on their heads, did survive.

He returned to Norwich, Ontario, fathered five children (myself included), and when he was able, produced many fine stories related to his time overseas with other brave young men.

On Remembrance Day I’ll walk to the cenotaph at Victoria Park and quietly voice his name, along with the names of two young men from London who never returned but are listed in a book of memoirs produced by their mates.

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Fred Eaglesmith

Fred hit a lot of the right notes this afternoon at the London Music Club.

He sang about the following:

Hank Williams, Elvis, Janis Joplin and their last days... on alcohol and pills.

Meeting and loving a significant other on Oxford County Line (not far from my hometown)

Dudley George, from Ipperwash


["Stolen from LMC website"]

His wish to be a freight train, or a long locomotive

Wanting to buy a truck

And he played several hot guitar licks and bickered with a guy who’d had too many beers.

No, not me. I’m a very peaceful, appreciative sort of guy. And when he comes to town again, I’ll be there.

***

Are you a Fredhead? Ever lived near Highway 19 or Oxford County Line?

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My first CPP cheque arrived! I think I’ll spend it on...

... Snow tires.

Cheque in. Cheque out. So easy.

I wish all of my financial decisions were as easy.

Sure, I still wonder how my car knew that my first pension cheque arrived last Thursday morning and how it developed a leak in the left rear tire later that afternoon, but at least I’d been thinking for awhile it was about time for new tires anyway.

Other matters related to my money aren’t quite as straight-forward.

There’s the matter of our sizable and growing provincial debt here in Ontario.


Do we continue to spend money we don’t have right now in order to stimulate the economy? Or make drastic cuts to programs?

It’s a tough call, and confusing.

Same thing federally. Spend more, cut more? My mind spins.

But I don’t want to turn off my brain and just retire to the workshop to make another set of shelves. I’d like to know if our municipal, provincial and federal governments are on the right track.

I’m kinda nosey that way.

And I want to know if people have the right information about their own personal finances too. These things are related.

How does one find out about such matters? There are many things more important than the economy, I know, but now that I’ve got new tires on the car I have time on my hands.

No money... but time.

***

I could always just build another birdhouse but I feel we’re in the middle of a gigantic fight and I want to see who’s winning.

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And in this corner... the tightwads

You likely already know this (which is probably not the best way for me to start if I want to develop a readership).

But there’s a battle going on and the ordinary taxpayer is caught in the middle (which is not a bad place to be sometimes, if you want the best view of all the action).

In one corner are advocates for more government stimulus spending.


They say that the Canadian economy is still in recession and needs tens of billions in stimulus spending during the next few years to recover. The only part of the economy that’s growing is government. (‘Study urges more spending,’ London Free Press, Oct. 29)

According to advocates of more government spending:

“The public spending that has happened so far has been important, it has helped the economy bottom out, but it hasn’t been enough yet to drag the whole economy forward.”

And, “What you want to do is give the whole economy a kickstart and then hope you get some momentum coming out of that.”

Sounds like we’re dealing with an uncle with a drinking problem, not a national economy, eh!

Old Uncle Louie has fallen into the ditch, has bottomed out, needs to be dragged back onto the sidewalk, and given a kick in the direction of home. And we ‘hope’ he can find his front door.

In the other corner are the advocates for thrift who say the economy is recovering and more spending is not the answer.

And who say “more spending would only hurt because the country would have to go deeper into debt to find the money.”

My family calls me “the tightwad” on occasion (I do not, however, have the first dollar I ever made) and would tell you I’d likely side with the non-spenders.

In this case I’ll stay in the middle for a month or two and enjoy the view.

***

Yes, we have to live within our means, from a household and government stand point.

But some spending is needed to transition to a more sustainable economy.

Is our stimulus spending supporting ‘ business as usual,’ or ‘same old, same old?’

I’ll watch the fight for now from the centre of the ring.

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A new mindset will develop in the face of growing debt

I concluded this week’s column by saying, “Just as Englanders will learn they are running out of room for the dead and must share limited space, Canadians will learn the time for excessive lifestyles is over and must learn to live within their limited means.”

I admit ‘Englanders’ is an odd term, but I just wanted to emphasize that mindsets do change, and should.

Okay, Englanders won’t be burying all their dead double-decker style in great numbers by the end of next week but eventually will be. And Canadians, who have had it so good for so long, won’t enter a permanent age of austerity overnight either.


["Rust is tough to hide": photo of Edsel by GAH]

In fact, if government stimulus cash turns our economy around and we go back to work (at something, anything) in bigger numbers and spend our paycheques like there’s no tomorrow and rack up debt as we did in the past, we might enjoy an age of excess (again) for a few years before another economic or recessionary bump comes along.

And why not spend, spend, spend?

That’s what we’re trained to do, expected to do. That’s what our governments and businesses want, and - in general - Canadians tend to be a very co-operative, helpful and compliant people.

We just want to get along. And keep up with the Joneses and that other new family (What’s their name again?”) that just moved into the big house down the street. And have the latest new thing.

But the mindset related to frugality will develop. It has to, for a variety of reasons most Canadians well know.

My recommendation: Practice frugality now so that it’s easier to do in the future.

Don’t let your frugality skills get rusty.

***

Rust is a terrible thing, isn’t it?

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Tastes I can remember from 1964 are adding up

Don’t worry about me. I’ll find a bazaar, that bazaar will feature homemade baked goods, and among the goods will be one loaf of fresh bread - still warm from the oven.

It will certainly cost more than I paid in 1964 for a loaf of Mrs. Blackburn’s bread (50 cents then; I’m willing to go as high as $3.50 today) but if the flavor takes me fleetingly back to those early years - 45 years ago - it will be worth the search and price paid.


["Go back in time? Not often": GAH 1963 - 64]

Not that I’m stuck in the past (I only visit on rare occasions), but I do remember certain flavours from 1964.

Here’s my list so far.

The Taste of ’64:

Mrs. B’s bread

mother’s homemade soup

french fries from Goosen’s greasy spoon on Main St., Norwich

fresh strawberries from Dad’s extensive garden (in the extra lot beside our house on Washington Avenue)

corn on the cob from the same garden

straps of black licorice (2 cents per strap from Irving’s Five and Dime on Main St.)

and, chewy, medium rye bread from Luciani’s bakery, situated right beside Goosen’s restaurant

Whoa, I’d better slow down and stop. It’s past noon and I’m getting hungry.


["I'm getting hungry too. Feed me": photo GAH]

I wonder if there’s any of my wife’s homemade cabbage roll casserole left in the fridge?

Time to go and work on a whole new list of memories.

***

1964 ring a bell? Anything from the kitchen you can recall to this day?

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From the Workshop: I’m not sure what to think

In an earlier (and really interesting) post, I only got up to two ‘tastes I can remember from 1964’ because I ran short on time.

I felt I had to return to the workshop to put trim on birdhouses and not leave the workshop heater unattended.


["Four more to go, but how do I feel?": photos GAH]

I’m not sure what to think about the first batch of modern-style houses. I know I’ve never seen or made anything like them, and maybe there’s a reason for that.


Once I put a coat of linseed oil on one or two perhaps I’ll have a better idea about how I feel about them.


Right now, my feelings are sorta detached. At least semi-detached.

***

Opinions welcome.

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Winter is coming. Time for home brew

On my grocery list for this week: rolled oats, maple syrup (step aside you guys in dark hockey jerseys ‘cause I’ll be steam-rollin’ you), and dextrose.

I need the maple syrup to wash down my world-famous pots of oatmeal. The dextrose is needed for my next batch of home brew, an Irish Stout with legs of steel.


["An Irish Stout with legs of steel": photo GAH]

The guys in dark jerseys will not stand a chance once the oatmeal and stout are coursing through me veins.

If you haven’t made home brew, let me just say it’s as easy as falling off a log (which has been known to happen) once you have the necessary materials, and if memory serves, the materials are paid for by the money you save half way through your second batch. Unless you can scrounge plastic bottles or glass ones w a bottle capper.

Need a demo?

I’ll post re the easy process once underway.

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Stop the presses. There will be no church bazaar

My hopes were dashed, momentarily, when I discovered the church directly across the street from my front porch was not holding a bazaar in the near future.

The notice I had noticed on their front door related to a schedule for masses.


However, my local community newspaper has a long list of upcoming events and I bet bazaars will be listed. And if there are bazaars, there will likely be fresh baked goods. And at least one loaf of bread still warm from the oven.

If Mrs. Blackburn was alive today, I wonder if she’d still sell her homemade bread for fifty cents.


["Above the church door": photo by GAH]

Gosh, wouldn’t that be a deal?

Fifty cents for a taste that one can remember for 45 years.

The list of ‘tastes that I can remember from 1964’ would be quite short if I wanted to take the time to think...

And think...

Tastes from 1964 (that I can remember):

my mom’s homemade soup (she kept it cold in the winter by putting the pot outside the back door with a board and rock on top of the lid to keep the odd dog or rabbit out of it)

french fries from Goosen’s greasy spoon (they came in a paper cone and I ate them with a toothpick. I usually added enough salt and malt vinegar to stop a horse!)

I’ll get back to this list. I might get two or three more tastes. But I left the heater on in the workshop - I have eight birdhouses that need some trim.

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From the Workshop: Prose by a rank amateur

she and me

the whine of the bandsaw
the smell of fresh-cut cedar
and fine sawdust in his hair,
I notice them all
when I step into my
old husband’s workshop.
check under your hood, lady?
he says after he looks my way.


he always says that
he always says that
he always says that and
means the same thing
as when he first said it
forty years ago.
he smiles and trips
a familiar switch
inside my chest -
he and me.

***

she always knocks
on the screen door of my shop
before she steps inside.
she always knocks and
sometimes I jump - startled -
lost in thought.


check under your hood
seems the right thing to say
before she smiles and asks
if I’d like to stop for tea.
my throat is dusty,
tea would be fine,
I nod.

***

later, we spend time together.
we sit in comfortable chairs
inside my workshop,
we talk almost a perfect shorthand
and with rhyming tones.
we almost breathe as one
we almost breathe as one
she and me.

gah

***

Click here for more prose and brilliant hit singles.

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Ollie and Me: We both love a project

Ollie is almost 3-years-old now and I’m a titch over 60 (and at the beginning of a long and productive middle age) but we both have plenty in common.


["Ollie, let's jump in the leaves": photos GAH]

We’re big talkers.

We like projects that keep our hands busy.

We’re almost the same height.

While pulling 15 bags of leaves to the curb recently Ollie was heard to say, “I love fall. I love fall.”


I do too, Ollie. Here's another project.

Let’s go jump in some leaves before we forget how much fun it is.

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If it’s a church bazaar I hope there are baked goods

There’s a notice on the church door across the street.

When I saw it yesterday I thought, I hope they're holding a bazaar soon.


["I hope there will be a bazaar": photos GAH]

On a day when I’m not too busy would be nice. Nicer still if on that day there are homemade cookies and breads sold at a low price.

I tasted the best bread ever in 1963 or '64. A loaf of it sold for 50 cents and was made by Mrs. Blackburn, a plump, white-haired woman who wore rumpled flower-print dresses whenever she visited the grocery store where I worked. (I was 13 or 14-years old, was paid 50 - 55 cents per hour and will safely say the bread was worth every penny).


["I'll have to get closer to the church door"]

I can close my eyes and still taste it.

If there are baked goods I’ll go, no matter what else I have on the proverbial plate.

If there’s a bazaar.

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The Simple Life: What kind of wood is this?

I didn’t need to stop but I did anyway.

While walking home from downtown yesterday afternoon I noticed a pile of scrap lumber beside a house just south of the Thames River.

Scrappy scrap it was too. Painted, broken, nail-filled boards thrown out during a reno. All destined for the landfill, no doubt.

But I saw enough of what appeared to be two clean-looking, pine boards to make me slow down, though my work bench and shop are over-crowded with new projects at the moment (the lathe is finally ready to roll) and the annex is already filled to the rafters with lumber.

I looked closer, and because the two I'd spotted were at least 10 inches wide and 30 inches long, I picked them up.


["Straight, dry and well-aged": photo GAH]

One good birdhouse per board, I thought.

I looked at them more closely when I arrived home.

Straight, dry and well-aged. Burn marks, perhaps from wooden matches, on one side. Some other interesting features too. Red pine perhaps. I’ll know better once I run them through the table saw.

I didn’t need to stop but I think the end result will be well worth any easy labour.

***

Red pine? Well-aged spruce? Hemlock? (I can only hope).

So begins an old board's life as a birdhouse. More details later.

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