Alan Skeoch

Author: terraviva

  • EPISODE 108 ROBBERIES

    EPISODE  108  ROBBERIES


    No  doubt most readers  have been robbed at one time or another.  Shocking in the past.
    Common in the present with internet exposure.  Trust is difficult because internet robbers
    are so sophisticated.

    Play the game called ‘FIND THE TOURIST’ at the end of these tales of woe.


    Old  time robbers were not as sophisticated  as modern summers.

    Robbers?  Below

    1) Like the robber our dog treed one winer evening.  We heard a hullabaloo in the back yard
    where Sonny was put out for a ‘walk’.   What was he barking at?  Unusual for Sonny since
    he was such a placid dog…big, super friendly Labrador.  At first we saw nothing
    then noticed a tall thin man with his back to one of our trees.  Almost invisible.

    “Get the dog away.”
    “Dog is friendly…will not bite.”
    “What are you doing in our back yard?”
    “I have been drinking…got lost.”
    “Where do  you live?”
    “Over there on Hurontario.”
    (He waved in the right direction. He was stumbling in that direction.
    We had  no lock  on our gate and a deep back wilderness that eventually
    linked up with Hurontario.)
    “What is your name?”  No answer, slurred
    “Where is your house?   No answer, or slurred

    And away he went.  Fooled us.  We really thought
    he was drunk.   A  few minutes later we changed  our minds…likely
    a break and enter person.  Do  not know really.

    2)  Like the robber who got into my workshop and stole
    some of my power tools….electric saw, electric drill, etc….
    a full arm load gone.

    It was winTer time with fresh snow so I was able to track the thief
    down through our backyard, across the little creek, up through the
    wilderness  park, out to Hurontario.

    And right to the bus stop where the tracks ended  and the thief
    got away.   Ridiculous.   He probably sold all the tools for five
    or ten dollars.

    But what would  I have done if  I found him?  Think about that.
    Best he was  not found  and confronted.

    3)  Like the robber who got my cellphone from our truck.
    Stupid of me to leave it there but such stupidity is common
    in men. Less so in women, my wife says.

    The cell phone was gone.  Then we heard  from neighbours
    that they had been robbed as well.  Much bigger take from
    them.  My cell phone was worth nothing so it was thrown
    away in the road ditch where it was  found by me.

    I checked the calls.  Turned out there were  five calls
    to the robbers friends.  Names given.  Clues  given.
    Long conversations registered.   What to do?
    I  visited the local police station.  

    “I think the thieves  can be traced, officer…information
    on my cell phone.”
    “We do not have time for small incidents like this.”
    “What if I do  the tracing?”
    “I would not recommend that.”

    4)  Like the time we parked our car in Marseilles, France.
    All of us…6 people.  Relieved to find such a nice parking spot.
    Tired and hungry.  Looking around.  

    “Can you help me?”  (might have been in French)
    “Sorry,, we just arrived here ourselves.”
    (followed  by  some brief small talk…MEANWHILE
    on the other side of the car a thief made a
    quick clutch  and  grab …got Marjorie’s purse
    with a little money but, worse, all her cards and
    I.D.   There were ripples  of that robbery long after due
    to the info the robber may  have sold to computer thieves.)

    It happened so fast…done in less  than a few seconds.
    The nice person talking with us was the front man or woman…not
    sure which sex but I think female…we did not even suspect the front person until long
    afterward.   What we learned, however, was that the choice parking
    spot in the City of  Marseilles was  part of the scam.

    5) Like the time Marjorie was  sort of mugged  by women thieves
    in Slovakia.  That also  happened quickly.  Kevin  noticed  me in trouble
    first. 

    “Dad is  being mugged out there…quick, I’ve got to get to him.”

    I wasn’t being mugged.  Just surrounded  by a bunch of middle
    aged women.  Pressing in on me.   Gabbling. Pretending something.
    Maybe getting into my pockets with skilled hands.  Nothing happened
    though. 

    “No problem, Kevin…kept my hand on my wallet.”

    The real robbery was happening in the Women’s washroom
    where Marjorie had  gone.  As  slick as a banana peel a cluster
    of women pressed Marjorie.  When they got what they thought was
    her wallet they vanished fast.  

    “I was mugged in the washroom.”
    “What did they get?”
    “My glass case…I think they thought it was my wallet.”

     Talking in Slovak which was natural.  Tough looking
    women suspected  later as being Roma (Gypsies).

    As  fast as  a  whistle they frisked Marjorie and got what
    they thought was her purse.  Then Kevin, our son who was teaching
    English in Slovakia just when the Soviet Union was in collapse,
    then Kevin came running out cursing…and the women shot off
    in various  directions.

    “Mom, do not stand around…you look like a tourist.”
    “What do you expect me to do?”
    “Stick  with me.”

    6, 7, 8…LOTS of little robberies.  We have all had them.  Scams
    are now as common as fleas on the neighbours dogs and cats.

    GAME:  FIND  THE TOURIST FROM PICS BELOW.  (HINT: MARJORIE
    SEEMS TO LIKE THE COLOUR RED


    WHERE IS THIS STORY GOING?

    Next Episode 109:  OUR BIG ROBBERY…DEVASTATED BUT WHAT TO DO



  • EPISODE 108 FEAR OF COVID19 HAS MADE ME LEERY OF BARBER SHOPS…THE RESULT?

    EPISODE  108    FEAR OF COVID 19 HAS MADE ME LEERY OF BARBER SHOPS…THE RESULT?


    EPISODE 108

    SO I have sent you 108 stories…episodes….
    TONIGHT I am too tired to do another so Marjorie thought
    some of you might wonder what i look light….with or
    without hair.   Thanks Brad  for sending the pic with the
    curly red hair.


    A confession:  Even though the episodes take a lot of time writing the
    script and then searching through a thousand  or more photos to
    try and bring the scripts to life…even though these stories  take a lot
    of work.  I enjoy doing them.  Recording events that have affected
    our tiny microcosmic community has and will continue to be
    quite  enjoyable.  Just knowing that some of you take the time to
    read them is flattering indeed.  I know some of you, like  Bill
    McKay, only look at the pictures.  That is why Episode 108 is
    so short.   No reading  required.

    I believe the ten years spent in the mining game…Game? I believe
    those glimpses of Canada were worth recording.   And then there 
    is the Victor Poppa diary of sex and bombing in World War II.
    Those adventures  would never have seen  the light
    of day without the help of Covid 10.  And, oh yes, My dad, Red Skeoch,
    was an unconventional father proud of his two sons in
    a backhanded way.  “One is a gutsy bugger and the other
    is as stupid as Joe’s dog.”  Dad  really new how to flatter
    people.   No one would remember Dad except the people
    he borrowed $20 from.  My brother and I thought our mother’s 
    name was Methusala until we  discovered that was  the oldest
    person in the Bible.  Mom was one year older than Dad, hence
    the name Methusalum.  (Dad added the ‘um…sounded better…he would have
    modernized the whole Bible were it not for the fact he found
    the Daily Racing Form more interesting.

    You want to know where the spark came from?  Voltaire, the
    French author, wrote a book titled  Candide in which an innocent
    and  naive young lad, Candide,  set out to see the world with his teacher,
    Pangloss, as a guide.  What does  Pangloss  mean?
    Big Mouth.   Voltaire’s affectiom for teachers was limited.
    Those of you in isolation might like to find the book.  Not
    hard to read. Some Chapters are only 2 pages long.

    The stories will keep coming.

    God, I wish I did not get a haircut today.  My curls were better
    than Justin Trudeau’s.  Vanity.  All is Vanity.

    alan skeoch
    Sept. 2020

    P>S>  And some  of you are  writing stories as well.  Great.
    I feel justified.

    PPS   Thanks Brad for sending this photo … the one with the
    curly hair.   Marjorie took the other…the picture  with no hair.

  • EPISODE 107 DAISY, I WILL MISS YOU FOREVER.


    EPISODE  107    DAISY, I WILL MISS YOU.


    alan skeoch
    August 2020

    NOTE:   DAISY DIED A LONG TIME AGO…MAYBE 1983 OR 1984.   
    SHE WAS A WONDERFJUL DOG.  WHEN SHE DIED I DID A SPECIAL
    MEMORIAL FOR HER ON CBC RADIO.  A LOT OF PEOPLE CRIED.
    ONE MAN, DRIVING ON HIGHWAY 401, HAD TO PULL OVER ON THE
    SHOULDER;   OUR STUDIO PEOPLE SUDDENLY DISAPPEARED  AND
    I FOUN MYSELF ALONE.  WHERE DID THEY GO?  THEY WERE CRYING
    AS WELL.   PEOPLE WHO LISTENED TO ME ON THE RADIO OFTEN REMEMBER
    MY MEMORIAL TO DAISY.   SO  HERE IS A PART OF IT FROM MEMORY.’


    THE DAY THAT DAISY DIED…THE MUSIC STOPPED

    WELL this is a sad day Daisy.  Tears  are flowing at our house.’
     You are gone and there is a gaping hole in our lives.
    You were a good dog…a great dog…a loyal dog…a smart dog…but most of  all
    you were  our dog.  And now you are gone leaving us with the memories.

    YOU were born in Meaford when they still made cannons at the place.   The nights
    were lit up with molten metal.  Cannons for historical sites. You were 
    Not exactly pure bred…mostly Labrador with other genetic sweetener.  I wonder if
    the mixed breed result was why your were so  intelligent.  You  bore us two
    litters  of pups whose progeny might be still around.

    You know what I remember best?  Sure, you do.

    The day I bought that old tread mill near Cooperstown, New York State.
    You showed  an interest right away…nosing the machine.  I thought some
    previous  owner had left a scent but that was not the case at all.  You
    knew how  the machine worked  and  were anxious  to give it a go



    It took me some time to  be aware of your interest, Daisy.  But by pure
    chance i asked  “Want to get up on the treadmill, Daisy?”

    I expected you to balk.   Expected  that training a dog like you
    to run a treadmill would take time and patience and loads of
    rewards.  Not you, Daisy.  You jumped up right away…lucky
    I had the hand  brake locked or you might have spun off backwards.

    You walked  up the treads to the top and  looked over at me
    as if to say, “Let’s get going, we  have work  to do.  We are now
    a team.”

    So I hooked the giant tuning fork to a fanning mill handle…put a load
    on the break mill and said  “Up you get Daisy.”

    No more  prompting.  You hopped up and  I released the brake and
    presto…we had two  19th century machines in all operation.  You moved
    those treads with slow  and steady certainty.  We were in the grain
    cleaning  business so to speak.  Lots of nice  rattling noises.  That did
    not bother you Daisy.  Your tail registered  contentment.  Swish…swish.

    In those years Daisy we went to a lot of  small fairs.  Those were
    the 1980’s when  many retired farmers  spent their idle hours getting
    ancient machines humming for summer tourists.  We were part of
    that showmanship.

    Here is Daisy at the Canadian National Exhibition with Marjorie and Andy. Do you 
    ever look contented Daisy.  Your treadmill is hooked to a fanning mill.

    Daisy, do you remember that blunder I made at Sherwood Gladys
    Hume’s Family Farm Festival?    I should not have let my mouth
    talk while my brain was disengaged.    

    Remember  Daisy?  We had a  large crowd clustered around ready
    for your performance.    I said, “OK , Daisy, up you go.”
     And you  performed perfectly as  usual.  No indication of fatigue.
    Very proud  of  your work.  Tail wagging at first and then serious  grain
    cleaning.

    Remember that woman in the audience?  She was  mad  as a  wet hen.
    Mad at me, not you.  She loved  you and  was certain  I was abusing 
    you.  She did not know much about dogs, did she?  She did  not know
    that dogs  like to feel valued…to feel helpful…to feel  important…to be
    understood.

    Remember how incensed she was Daisy.   Remember how
    she demanded  I stop the tread  mill.  Demanded I get you
    off the machine.

    Remember how  I ignored her at first.  Kept you on the machine.
    as it clattered away.  Remember her yelling,  “How long are
    you going to leave that poor dog on that machine. It’s abuse.
    Stop.   How long must the poor dog labour?”

    Remember my  stupid  answer.  “I leave her on the machine
    until she drops  dead, then I go down to the SPCA and get
    another dog.”   A  smart ass comment.   Really wish I had not
    said it but the devil got my tongue.

    Remember her reaction.  “I am going to get the police…the
    Humane society…”  And away she went.  Of course she never
    came back.   I said “That’s  enough for now Daisy, take a break,”
    And I engaged the brake leaver.  You  jumped  down and some
    of the crowd  came over to pet you.   Remember how important 
    you felt?   

    I was  always so proud of you Daisy.  I will miss  you forever.

    alan skeoch
    Sept   2020




    NEXT EPISODE       HOW ABOUT OUR FANNING MILL COLLECTION…LARGEST COLLECTION OF  GRAIN
    CLEANING MACHINES IN THE WORD.


    WINTER IS COMING 

  • EPISODE 106 RACING DONW THE DON RIVER… TRAPpED UNDER THE THWARTS

    EPISODE  106   RACING  DOWN  THE DON RIVER…TRAPPED  UNDER THE THWARTS 


    alan skeoch
    august 2020

    Splashing through the Don River's momentary class 2 rapids. (Photo: Lake Ontario Waterkeeper)


    ” Suddenly upside down in foaming white water.?”  “What happened?”  That thought flashed through 
    my brain  “My head is bouncing off the river bottom rocks.”  Wiggling I made a
    sudden and sodden discovery, “I am trapped by he thwarts.”  Trapped by the thwarts.!!

    HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

    FLASHBACK

    The phone rang earlier.  “Mike here, Alan,  I have a great idea for a radio 
    program.  We can do it live…from a  canoe racing in white water down  the Don River.”

    “There is  no white water in the Don River.”

    “Once a year the Conservation Society opens  the dam upriver so  that canoeists
    can  race down the Don like it is the Frazer River canyon.  PADDLE  THE DON.
     The race is a money
    raiser for improving the Don River.   We can do  it.  Are you  interested?”

    “Sounds  exciting but I have one big problem.”

    “Problem?”

    “Yes, I fell off a  small cliff in France a week ago.  Bashed  myself up badly…cuts,
    bruises  and  a broken wrist.   Surgery.  Wrist is pinned together with long spikes.
    In a sling.   Bottom line is I  cannot paddle.”

    “No need to worry.  You will be wedged  under the thwarts. SAFE.  A friend  and  I will
    paddle while you record the trip  on tape.  CBC  mobile equipment.”

    The concept intrigued  me.  I had been doing nothing much while convalescing.
    The black bruises had turned  brown.  Stanless steel pins holding bones in place.
     The wrist was  in a  sling.  Truth be told,  I was bored.
    Marjorie was not too enthusiastic though.  “Just think a live radio program from
    white water on the normally lazy Don River.”

    So it was  a go.  About 600 people gathered at the launch  point high up the Don River
    below the dam.  Once the water was released  the lazy stream  turned  into a  raging
    hurricane.  And the canoes  began  to be launched…quickly to get the full value  of
    white water canoeing.  The field once full of canoes was soon emptied.

    Our turn came, “Get in fast, we’ll push you off,” said a person who seemed to be in charge.
    I wedged myself under the thwarts, pillow under bum.  Snug.  Mike got into the back.
    His friend to the front and before we could adjust we were pushed off into the foaming
    white water.  Mike would steer with the flat of his paddle.  At least I thought he would.

    “Mike, do you know how to use the J stroke…to steer?”

    So much noise…too much speed…not sure even a J stroke could rescue us.
    We failed to get control.  Immediately we began to spin… to cart wheel down
    the Don.  Horizontally. Best seen by a helicopter.  Dizzying to me… my thwart  was dead
    centre of the cart wheel.  We came around  a  sharp bend  and there before us was another
    canoe…green as I remember.  It was hung up on some rocks in the middle of the River. No
    sign of a crew.  Then again no bodies piled on shore.  

    As  we spun down the foaming flow there were other canoes in trouble.   Some beached.  Of  course
    veterans of white water were whizzing buy in complete control.  Not us.  We were doomed . Spinning
    Destined to pile up somewhere.  Hopefully on shore.  But that was not to be.  A huge roller
    hit us broadside.  Then hung up on a rock. Tipped the canoe.  Water rushed in and over we  went.

    Suddenly I was head  down in the  Don River.   I remember my head  bouncing on
    the bottom stones.   It happened  so fast I had no time for fear or action.  The canoe
    was still moving. Air trapped kept it afloat.  Sort of.  But I was looking through a haze
    of fast moving water.  Odd  sensation.  It may  surprise you to know that I was not afraid.  I had no fear
    of drowning as long as I could  get my body clear of the goddamn thwart.  Last man
    aboard.

    Underwater.  How long?  Not very long.  Suddenly a muscled arm grabbed me by the back
    of the neck  and hauled  me clear of the canoe and back to an oxygen supply.  it was Mike.
    A little embarrassed but relieved he had  not lost me.   My broken wrist was still in 
    a sling.  And in the other hand I held  my pocket camera.

    So all three of  us survived.  We even  waved as  other canoes  road  the white water
    southward towards the Keating channel.

    “What about the sound equipment…the recorder, microphones, cables..gear?”
    “Gone…who the hell knows where.”
    “We will have to figure out an explanation…that stuff cost CBC money.”

    “What do we do now?”
    “May as well continue…we held  onto the paddles…just need to pull the canoe
    ashore  and drain it.”
    “Are you up to finishing the trip, Alan?”
    “No choice.”
    “There is a portage a little way from here…mustn’t miss it or we’ll
    be caught in a patch of  rocks.”

    That portage point worried me but we pointed the canoe to the landing
    point.   Mike and his friend carried the canoe while I followed…shivering.

    The rest of the ride down to the catchpoint called the Keating Channel 
    was uneventful.  The white water calmed itself down.   Maybe this is  a good
    point for observations.    If we had our equipment the story would have
    been delivered something like this.

    THE LIVE RADIO BROADCAST THAT NEVER HAPPENED

    1)  Good morning listeners,  today we are going to ride down the
    white river rapids of the Don River.  PADDLE THE DON DAY. 
    Only one  day each year does
    the Don  River have enough water for canoe  racing.   Only  today
    May 3, 2015.   Why?  Because today  the Conservation people will
    open the upriver dam and  create a  sluiceway. 

     We are picking up
    speed.  Keeping the  canoe straight.  To do otherwise would be
    a disaster.  Exhilarating.  Smooth J stroking…heading where we want
    to go.  Missing the big rocks that appear now and then.  Some other are
    not so fortunate.  Beached.

    2) Whups, looks like one canoe are in trouble, we just passed
    a green fibreglass canoe that will never make the Keating channel.
    Seems to be hung up on a  rock…maybe pierced.  No sign of
    the owners.  No other debris.   No dead  bodies.



    3) Some veterans  of rapids are rocketing past us.  No fear of speed and deadfalls.
    Veterans of the river.  We are slower.  Being very careful.  What a grand day!

    4) We beached  at the portage site perfectly.  To fail  would  have been
    a disaster as  the Don River tumbles over a jumble of Ordovecian slabs.
    Broad patch of shallow  water.  No deep water.   Had we missed the portage we would have
    been smashed  up a  bit.

    5) We are now in the water of the lower Don River once again.  Much
    better…slower…restful.  Easy paddling.  Slight changes in the back paddle
    and we change direction.  Easy.   

    6)  We  are paddling the full 10.5 km through the heart of  Toronto.  Amazing
    wilderness only visible  by canoe on this day.

    7) Not really that pretty on close inspection.  There are 872 storm sewer outlets on the River.  Some hidden
    in greenery.  Others blatantly obvious.  Add to that the 30 sewer outfalls and  the Don does not
    seem  so pretty.  The water colour is brown now.  What makes the water so brown?   Smells a bit.
    Some say the Don River had  so much bundle fluid was that it would catch  fire in places.
    Overflow tanks fail more often than not.  When that happens  all kinds  of guck
    gets in the river.  We have been using the Don River as  a sewer for 150 years  and just
    now starting to clean it up.  The money raised  by this PADDLE THE DON experience
    will provide $100,000 to help clean the river.



    8) There are other living things watching us.  Rabbits, Herons, ducks, geese…

    many with young.   Must also be foxes  unless they have been usurped by the new top
    predators of the Don River…the coyotes.  Never saw any of them.  No doubt they saw us.

    9)  Pictures of the Don River Valley at any time of year are thrilling.  Nature at its best
    you might say .  But don’t say it too  loud.  Snow melts.  Heavy rains and meltwater flow
    where opposition is least.  In other words  into the Don River Valley…into the River.
    So many contaminants come with meltwater and spring rain.  Let me count some of
    them…cigarette butts, de-icing fluid some of  which spills  each time your windshield wiper
    tank is replenishedl,  dog shit left by those who care not, heavy metals that are not seen
    but will be deadly to fish stocks, soapsuds  by the tonne, and as  many or more tonnes of road salt.
    tire rubber, 
    It all heads for the river.  Turns the Lower Don into a  stinking mish mash of things that float and
    things that are water soluble.   Not nice.  But there is  hope.  Toronto is more aware of the need
    to clean the Don and  signs  for the future are not as dire as they seem right now.

    ETc. Etc.   THE RADIO BROADCAST THAT WAS NEVER MADE.

    BACK TO REALITY.

    Trash accumulating in the Keating Channel – the landing site for paddlers at the end of the course. (Photo: Lake Ontario Waterkeeper)
    The Keating Channel  catches  everything including the odd dead body.

    Not mentioned in my imaginary radio broadcast was the CBC  sound equipment that
    must be tumbling down the Don River with the white water.  Bouncing like my head
    did on the submerged rocks.

    Another thing not mentioned was the fact I was soaked to the skin.  Freezing cold
    by the time we  reached the Keating Channel.  We no longer talked to each other
    by then.  When we boarded the shuttle bus to take us  back to our cars, we were
    not talking at all.   Too embarrassed.  Too cold.  Too worried.

    Back at the launch site I waited shivering for Marjorie to pick me up.  Soaked to
    the skin.  Goose bumps.   Recovering from falling off  a cliff a few  weeks earlier
    and now recovering  from a near drowning.   Cats have nine lives.  How many
    do humans have?

    May 3, 2015 had  not been a good day.   

    Foolishly I thought the upside of the experience would make a good radio story.  I wrote
    and  submitted a  script.    And waited to hear when we would play the tape for all to hear.
    I have now waited five years or more.    Perhaps you can explain why.

    alan skeoch
    August 2020













  • EPISODE 105 LOOK WHAT HAPPENED WHEN MARJORIE ATE MILK WEED.

    EPISODE 105   WHAT HAPPENED  WHEN MARJORIE ATE MILK WEED


    alan skeoch
    august 2020


    A strange thing happened today.  I was  out in the back field
    binding flax when I found  a nice patch of milk weed which
    i also bound.

    Marjorie thought the milk weed was fresh salad greens
    so she ate it.

    Look what happened.

    Her next life she will turn into   Monarch  Butterfly.

    alan



    alan skeoch
    august 2020