Author: terraviva

EPISODE 104 “WE DO NOT NEED YOU ANYMORE.”

EPISODE 104 WE DO NOT NEED YOU ANYMORE

alan skeoch

August 2020

John Myers, a friend, has asked me several times to

tell him about my radio career … with CBC radio. I have not

answered because the story is long with many twists and

turns. You may not want the full story because there is no

high drama. Maybe I can tell the story in point form best.

short form.

1) At the Thompson auction sale near Kitchener, Ontario around 1980, I bid

and bought four threshing machines. Beautiful things as big as

five ton trucks. Historic machines doomed to be burned by

scrap dealers seeking cast iron. How could I explain this purchase

to Marjorie? She is long suffering and never crushes my enthusiasm.

What could I do with 4 huge dinosaurs of the

harvest fields. ?

MY radio career began with this threshing machine …. believe it or not.

I bought quite a few of them at auction sales…Was I insane? No, I managed

to turn them into an 300 page M.A. thesis at U. of T. Three departments…history, engineering

and fine arts. Loved it. The engineering department shared my enthusiasm the most.

Where did I keep them? Gave the best to museums. Others are still in the barn.

2) The biggest was made in New Hamberg, Ontario about 1890.

It was in great shape. Wooden construction, wood wheels, lavish

folk art painting done by professional stripers. And alligator for

instance was added to accent the sharp teeth of the thresher when

it tore grain sheaves to bits.

3) I donated the machine to Riverdale Farm, a kind of

salue to Ontario farm history located in the heart of the

City of Toronto. To get the machine to its new barn I

hired Gordon Hume and his flat bed truck. It was quits a sight

rolling up Parliament Street. Heart of the largest city in Canada.

A nostalgic farm! A few years later Riverdale Farm

gave it back to me. Imagine that. The nerve! So I regave the machine to

Doon Pioneer village where it remains.

4) As chance would have it a CBC radio producer was having

a coffee break as the thresher came by. Parliament Street studio.

Or Perhaps it was noticed

by the host of Radio Noon, then David Shatsky. Someone followed

the truck to the farm museum and asked “What is it?” “Who donated it?”

So my name reached decision makers at CBC/

5) “Would you drop by for an interview?” I did and that interview

went so well that I was asked to be a regular radio journalist with

a 5 to 10 minjute slot each Friday on Radio Noon.

6) I must have done about 100 shows. My 5 minute special reached

beyond Toronto. Some covered Ontario. Some were national. One

even reached an Inuit village in the Northwest Territories. He was being

hounded by the local priest. Scared. Not much I could do.

I know the phone call makes not sense but it was memorable.

CBC paid

me eventually. Around $100 a show. Not big. The cost of parking

took a big slice of the money. Then the research and Union dues took some as well. I did

not care. It was a joy to do the programs. I learned a lot about

communications.

7) On my third or fourth show, my produce, Doug Coupar spoke to me

privately “Alan, your shows are terrific….”

When someone says that to you be prepared for the follow up word which

is ‘BUT’. To repeat “Alan, our shows are terrific BUT you must remember

that the radio audience attention span is one minute at the most. Get your

big idea into that first few seconds or you will have lost them.” What

grest advice. Cut the bull shit…get to the point right away. That advice

changed my whole approach to teaching. For the better. I began each

lesson with a big question. Often a questions to which I did not know the answer.

Kids really got involved. They often took over the discussion.

(i.e. Why did John A. Macdonald allow Louis Riel to be executed? Why?)

8) So I would race down to CBC on my lunch hours every Friday

to trigger ideas in a public forum. My personal ego trip some must

have thought. I loved it. Then race back to class. On one of these trips I was

startled as I opened the truck door. A tall thin man in running shoes had

jumped on the back bumper and then blocked my exit. “I am going to

fucking kill you,” he said. Made no sense. I had not hit him. What should

I do. I looked at my watch hand and said, “Sorry, I don’t have time for that

…I am late for class.” to which the deranged mind said “OK!” and wandered

off. Lakeshore Psychiatric Hospital had recently been closed. I do not

have a watch.

9) My tenure at CBC radio was quite long…maybe 3years or longer.

That is an eternity for a radio host and also for radio journalists.

One of the CBC personalities took me aside early in my career.

He gave me some great advice as well. “Alan, remember this…we

all have a shelf life.” WE ALL HAVE A SHELF LIFE. Just like hamburger

and cheese. Being an on air personality was not a lifetime job. At some

point a CBC exec that I would never meet would decide to change the

format. Get rid of that Skeoch guy…we need a new direction.”

10) DAISY

One of my best stories dealt with our grest dog Daisy.

She died and I grieved her on the radio. One man phoned to say.

“I had to put over on 401. I was crying.” The studio was empty

as I spoke because all involved got emotional. As did I.

10) So one New Years Day, I phoned the CBC to outline my special

program for the new year. I had a new producer by then.

He was a hatchet man The conversation was short.

“Just to let you know my plan for next week. I think…”

The hatchet man cut in fast.

“We do not need you any more.”

That was it. The kiss off. The guillotine blade was falling. My shelf life

with CBC radio was over. “Sorry, we do not need you any more.”

alan skeoch

August 2020

P>S> Not quite over. I did occasional programs when they needed

someone to cover a dead air space. My second last program was such a shock

to CBC decision makers that they never let it go on air. So when

I tell you that story it will be fresh. First time ever. Next episode.

August 30, 2020
EPISODE 104 “WE DO NOT NEED YOU ANYMORE.”

EPISODE 104 WE DO NOT NEED YOU ANYMORE

alan skeoch

August 2020

John Myers, a friend, has asked me several times to

tell him about my radio career … with CBC radio. I have not

answered because the story is long with many twists and

turns. You may not want the full story because there is no

high drama. Maybe I can tell the story in point form best.

short form.

1) At the Thompson auction sale near Kitchener, Ontario around 1980, I bid

and bought four threshing machines. Beautiful things as big as

five ton trucks. Historic machines doomed to be burned by

scrap dealers seeking cast iron. How could I explain this purchase

to Marjorie? She is long suffering and never crushes my enthusiasm.

What could I do with 4 huge dinosaurs of the

harvest fields. ?

MY radio career began with this threshing machine …. believe it or not.

I bought quite a few of them at auction sales…Was I insane? No, I managed

to turn them into an 300 page M.A. thesis at U. of T. Three departments…history, engineering

and fine arts. Loved it. The engineering department shared my enthusiasm the most.

Where did I keep them? Gave the best to museums. Others are still in the barn.

2) The biggest was made in New Hamberg, Ontario about 1890.

It was in great shape. Wooden construction, wood wheels, lavish

folk art painting done by professional stripers. And alligator for

instance was added to accent the sharp teeth of the thresher when

it tore grain sheaves to bits.

3) I donated the machine to Riverdale Farm, a kind of

salue to Ontario farm history located in the heart of the

City of Toronto. To get the machine to its new barn I

hired Gordon Hume and his flat bed truck. It was quits a sight

rolling up Parliament Street. Heart of the largest city in Canada.

A nostalgic farm! A few years later Riverdale Farm

gave it back to me. Imagine that. The nerve! So I regave the machine to

Doon Pioneer village where it remains.

4) As chance would have it a CBC radio producer was having

a coffee break as the thresher came by. Parliament Street studio.

Or Perhaps it was noticed

by the host of Radio Noon, then David Shatsky. Someone followed

the truck to the farm museum and asked “What is it?” “Who donated it?”

So my name reached decision makers at CBC/

5) “Would you drop by for an interview?” I did and that interview

went so well that I was asked to be a regular radio journalist with

a 5 to 10 minjute slot each Friday on Radio Noon.

6) I must have done about 100 shows. My 5 minute special reached

beyond Toronto. Some covered Ontario. Some were national. One

even reached an Inuit village in the Northwest Territories. He was being

hounded by the local priest. Scared. Not much I could do.

I know the phone call makes not sense but it was memorable.

CBC paid

me eventually. Around $100 a show. Not big. The cost of parking

took a big slice of the money. Then the research and Union dues took some as well. I did

not care. It was a joy to do the programs. I learned a lot about

communications.

7) On my third or fourth show, my produce, Doug Coupar spoke to me

privately “Alan, your shows are terrific….”

When someone says that to you be prepared for the follow up word which

is ‘BUT’. To repeat “Alan, our shows are terrific BUT you must remember

that the radio audience attention span is one minute at the most. Get your

big idea into that first few seconds or you will have lost them.” What

grest advice. Cut the bull shit…get to the point right away. That advice

changed my whole approach to teaching. For the better. I began each

lesson with a big question. Often a questions to which I did not know the answer.

Kids really got involved. They often took over the discussion.

(i.e. Why did John A. Macdonald allow Louis Riel to be executed? Why?)

8) So I would race down to CBC on my lunch hours every Friday

to trigger ideas in a public forum. My personal ego trip some must

have thought. I loved it. Then race back to class. On one of these trips I was

startled as I opened the truck door. A tall thin man in running shoes had

jumped on the back bumper and then blocked my exit. “I am going to

fucking kill you,” he said. Made no sense. I had not hit him. What should

I do. I looked at my watch hand and said, “Sorry, I don’t have time for that

…I am late for class.” to which the deranged mind said “OK!” and wandered

off. Lakeshore Psychiatric Hospital had recently been closed. I do not

have a watch.

9) My tenure at CBC radio was quite long…maybe 3years or longer.

That is an eternity for a radio host and also for radio journalists.

One of the CBC personalities took me aside early in my career.

He gave me some great advice as well. “Alan, remember this…we

all have a shelf life.” WE ALL HAVE A SHELF LIFE. Just like hamburger

and cheese. Being an on air personality was not a lifetime job. At some

point a CBC exec that I would never meet would decide to change the

format. Get rid of that Skeoch guy…we need a new direction.”

10) DAISY

One of my best stories dealt with our grest dog Daisy.

She died and I grieved her on the radio. One man phoned to say.

“I had to put over on 401. I was crying.” The studio was empty

as I spoke because all involved got emotional. As did I.

10) So one New Years Day, I phoned the CBC to outline my special

program for the new year. I had a new producer by then.

He was a hatchet man The conversation was short.

“Just to let you know my plan for next week. I think…”

The hatchet man cut in fast.

“We do not need you any more.”

That was it. The kiss off. The guillotine blade was falling. My shelf life

with CBC radio was over. “Sorry, we do not need you any more.”

alan skeoch

August 2020

P>S> Not quite over. I did occasional programs when they needed

someone to cover a dead air space. My second last program was such a shock

to CBC decision makers that they never let it go on air. So when

I tell you that story it will be fresh. First time ever. Next episode.

August 30, 2020
EPISODE 103 MUSKRATS….PEST OR CREATORS OF OUR WORLD

EPISODE 103 MUSKRATS…PESTS OR CREATORS OF OUR WORLD

alan skeoch

August 2020

IN THE BEGINNING THERE WAS ONLY WATER…THE GODS LIVED ON TOP OF THE CLOUDS

THERE were four to them cavorting in the swamp. Young kits. Muskrat kits that

I had no idea were living and thriving in a hidden swamp on our farm. Only made

visible because I have been clearing brush to get a better view of the glorious

little swamp. Once they spotted me they arched their backs and dove down.

Muskrats can stay submerged for as long as17 minutes…longer than my patience

it seems. I waited and waited. Were they some kind of mirage? Not so, their

home is likely under the submerged roots of some cedars and the four ran home

to their mommy.

I was elated. Our swamps, of which we have four, seemed sort of empty of late since

the frog population has been immensely reduced and even the leeches (bloodsuckers is

a better word) have disappeared. A pair of Canada geese raise a brood each year

but once the little ones are big enough, they disappear somewhere.

So it was nice know the Muskrats have been thriving all the time. But unseen.

THE SWAMP…UNSEEN FOR 20 YEARS…NOW VISIBLE…AND ALIVE.

I am partial to muskrats but the internet sure is not. The word ‘pest’ is used

a lot. Why? Well they can punch holes in dams but more serious is the presence

of rabies and other diseases. Scary. But the presence of rabies is not

exclusive to muskrats. So do not get your underwear in a twist. The internet

goes on to suggest poisons and traps to kill or capture the Muskrats.

Largely herbivorous, Muskrats like our human gardens. They are nocturnal raiders

whose presence can be deduced by the tracks … four small feet about size of

a cat and a long streak of the Muskrat tail in between. That may account for the

anger some of us have towards muskrats.

SOMETIMES we forget Woody…he waits knowing we will remember him

Personally I think these little beavers (related) are rather smart. One late afternoon

a few years ago we were driving home and had to turn around to go back to

the farm. Maybe we forgot the dog, Woody. That happens occasionally. When

we drove in the farm lane, there was an adult muskrat on the pathway. He or she

must have waited all day for us to leave in order to get from one swamp to another…particularly

to the hidden swamp.

(I prefer the term pond because it sounds so attractive. But, that word, implies a wetland

that has been changed into a place for goldfish. The word swamp is better…allows for

wild things that are not controlled by human hands.)

The muskrat stopped, looked at us, and then turned around and disappeared into the

mass of goldenrod that clothes much of our open swampland in summer.

Why love a muskrat?

A few years ago I wrote a book on our indigenous people. It was written with good intentions

…to highlight their depth of culture and the wrongs that have been committed. The book was

a failure. Publisher went bankrupt the day the book came out. And, worse, I was accused

of appropriating indigenous voice. True. I had not considered there was a danger in my main

protagonist using first person voice. Writing exposes a writer to criticism. Painful always.

Which gets me back to the muskrat.

In Mohawk legendary tradition the origin of our world is explored in a charming manner.

Elements of this legend are also found in other First Nations explanations of how

humans first appeared on earth. The Christian Adam and Eve explanation is most

common to Canadians. Would that the Mohawk explanation was equally familiar.

The legend comes down through the generations in spoken form. Thus there

are changes since storytellers often like to make the story ‘better’.

Yes, the muskrat will be featured. Don’t get so anxious.

This is my interpretation of the Mohawk legend of creation. The basic elements conform

to the tradition. We are not dealing with something absolute. Not Holy Writ you might say.

“In the beginning, the planet was covered in water. There was no land…no earth. All

water. Above the earth was an envelope of clouds where the gods lived. One day

there was an opening in these clouds and a woman we call Earth Mother peeked

through the hole. In order to get a better view, she leaned over too far and fell

through the hole. She was tumbling head over heals through the sky. A loon noticed

her and flew under her thereby cradling Earth Mother. But the loon could not hold her

forever. The loon called out to the creatures below, particularly to the big snapping

turtle. “Can I let Earth Mother land on your back?” The snapping turtle agreed and

before long Earth Mother found herself standing on the top of the great snapping turtle.

Even though the turtle was large it was not large enough to hold Earth Mother forever

so the big snapper called all the water creatures together saying “we need some mud

from the bottom below us. If we can get mud we can build a home for earth mother

on my back.

“So all the creatures tried to get some mud…some earth. The beaver dove down

as deep as it could but never reached the bottom. Died trying. So the otter then

tried but also died trying. All the water creatures tried and failed. Then the big

snapping turtle turned to the little muskrat who had been ignored because it was

so small and insignificant. “Will you try?” The muskrat agreed and dove down

deep deep down. It was down a long time. Had it drowned like the others?

“Then the little muskrat come to the surface. Was ti dead or alive? We do not

know but there clutched in a little paw was a handful of mud from deep below

the water. When that handfull of mud was spread on the great snapping turtles’

back it suddenly began to expand and expand…got larger and larger until the land

we know of as our earth was created.

“All this happened because of the lowly little muskrat had an ability to live underwater’

for a long time. Without the muskrat none of us would be here.”

NOTE: Legends of human origin are common to most cultures. But the First Nation

legends, particularly this one have some striking features. The snapping turtle’s

back, for instance, fits the modern scientific of plate tectonics. The crust of the

earth is broken into huge plates that float snd clash. Below is a sea of molten magma.

To me, the Mohawk creation legend has another feature. All the creatures of

the world helped Earth Mother survive. Among the Mohawk the great Snapping

Turtle is given much credit…but most credit goes to the tiny Muskrat. There

is a recognition that all the creatures have value.

There are other features to this legend which I will not explore because my

story is about the muskrat but it is worth mentioning that Earth Mother was

pregnant when she fell. She bore two sons. One was a good son, the other

was a bad son. They fought. (as dud Cain and Able in western legend)

The good son just barely squeaked victory

but his victory is never secure. Rings true to the Adam and Eve legend. But

foremost in the legend is the role of Earth Mother. Among the Mohawk and other

Iroquois women are given great prominence. The Society of Matrons have been

traditional leaders and decision makers. It took a long time for British and

European ‘discoverers’ to understand that.

Bottom Line…Our family will not be spreading poison to kill the muskrats nor

will be hiding leg hold traps among the goldenrod.

alan skeoch

august 2020

P.S. Apologies if my interpretation of the Mohawk legend of creation differs

from others. Legends come from spoken traditions. I am comforted by the

fact that our Mississauga First Nations…now living on land given to them by

the Mohawk people in the 19th century…that these people invited me to speak

at their historical conference a couple of years ago. They were a most gracious

and broad minded people. We had a good time.

August 29, 2020
EPISODE 102 AN OLD MAN’S WINTER NIGHT … BESIDE THE QUEEN ELIZABETH HIGHWAY

NOTE: THIS MAY SEEM A LITTLE OFF HE WALL…

EPISODE 102 AN OLD MAN’S WNER NIGHT…BESIDE THE QUEEN ELIZABETH HIGHWAY

A PLACE WE’VE ALL PASSED…WHAT WAS HERE 40 YEARS AGO

alan skeoch

august 2020

It took a long time to find the picture. Without the picture this story has

no meaning.

About 40 years ago Was driving along the North Service road just above the

big Ford Assembly plant. Right beside the Queen Elizabeth super highway.

Winter time but getting close to spring. A place you have all seen because today

there are two glass and aluminum modern office buildings in that place.

Bu 40 years ago there was a barn. Old style barn that had never been elevated.

Guessing a date of 1850 or earlier. The barn looked bad. Defeated. Empty

Abandoned. Doomed. Sad. All to these. So I pulled in to get this picture (below)

Attempting to record something that was about to disappear.

Just as I held up the camera an elderly man walked out of the stable.

Was I trespassing? No. I was on the road shoulder. But he walked

toward me anyway.

“This had been our farm for better part of a century, son.”

“Mind if I take a picture.”

“Go ahead.”

“It must be hard to part with .”

“Very hard.”

He looked at me…I think he wanted to see in my face if I really gave a

damn about him and his former farm. He must have seen something in me.

“You know son, I got a lot of money for this farm

but it means noting to me. I wish I had it back.

I wish I could still farm. What am I going to do

with money?

That incident has preyed on my mind for the last four decades.

Every time I see those twin towers of glass and aluminum, I see

that old man. And I hear him.

That, however, is not the end of the story.

THIS IS THE PICTURE…NOT MUCH, RIGHT?

Many years later we were driving up the access ramp on the other side of

the QEW. Exactly across the highway from the old man’s farm.

“Dad…big fire over there.”

“Barn fire.”

Sure enough a large barn was engulfed in flames. Not much anyone

could do but look. And there was a crowd gathering

Another of our Ontario wooden agricultural cathedrals

was being reduced to ashes.

Every time we drive along the QEW and start to enter the curve

down to the Ford Motor Company plant

I see both of these barns.

And I hear the old man speaking about the meaningless of his

sudden great wealth.

(This picture above is not the barn that was burning. But it is similar. So many are gone.)

Take another look while you read Robert Frost’s ‘An Old Man’s Winter Night’

alan skeoch

august 2020

An Old Man’s Winter Night by Robert Frost

www.robertfrost.org/images/postquote.png); overflow: auto; background-position: left top; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat;” class=””>

All out of doors looked darkly in at him
Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,
That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.
What kept him from remembering what it was
That brought him to that creaking room was age.
He stood with barrels round him – at a loss.
And having scared the cellar under him
In clomping there, he scared it once again
In clomping off; – and scared the outer night,
Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar
Of trees and crack of branches, common things,
But nothing so like beating on a box.
A light he was to no one but himself
Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,
A quiet light, and then not even that.
He consigned to the moon, such as she was,
So late-arising, to the broken moon
As better than the sun in any case
For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,
His icicles along the wall to keep;
And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt
Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted,
And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept.
One aged man – one man – can’t fill a house,
A farm, a countryside, or if he can,
It’s thus he does it of a winter night.

NOW EVERY TIME YOU TAKE THE QEW WESTWARD YOU MAY SEE THE OLD BARN

AND HEAR THE OLD MAN….EVERY TIME YOU SEE THESE BUILDINGS.

alan skeoch

august 2020

August 27, 2020
EPISODE 101 THE BEE YARD…TWO MEN IN SPACE SUITS

EPISODE 101 THE BEE YARD…TWO MEN IN SPACE SUITS…A DRONE WITH A CAMERA

alan skeoch

august 2020

Our son Andrew decided to raise bees. I do not know where he got the

idea since my experience with bee keeping was an utter and complete

failure for manY reasons.

My failure as a beekeeper: About 30 years ago, maybe 40, I decided to become a beekeeper after buying a van load of old

bee hives, etc. at the Parker Petit auction sale north of Toronto…maybe near Beeton come to think of it. All I needed

was instruction and a load of bees from an American supplier. Getting the bees was easy. Understanding the bees was

another matter. First mistake… I put good bees in old hives. They got diseased and had to be burned. Awful. The worst part came

next. Ed (deleted last name) was my bee instructor. Seemed like a nice fellow until he turned up at our house when

I was away. His intentions were sexual and Marjorie was appalled. She phoned me at PCI and I in turn phoned

Ed. The call was not nice. I did not care if his wife was listing. So ended my beekeeping career.

Andrew, our son, will not make the same mistake. His instructor is one of my lifelong friends. He has been

beekeeper for 50 years. Loves his bees. And loves helping youngsters willing to take up beekeeping. It cannot

be a casual thing. Bees are one of the most organized living things on this planet. They do not take well

to amateurs.

MARAUDERS ARE OUT THERE

Russ: “Skunks and bears have killed many

of my bees. They find them tasty. The Skunks just scratch on he hive..like knocking at your door. When the

bees come out the skunk eats each bee as you would a nice sweet chocolate. A skunk can eat a lot of bees.

The worst raid was by a bear. My bee yard is near Orillia which can be bear country on rare occasions.

The bear just lifted the supers of the hive one by one. Ate until his gut was full then ambled away leaving

my bee yard devastated. I spent a couple of evenings parked near the hives intending to get that bear.

The bear outsmarted me…never came back.”

SEE THE white/yellow pack of pollen attached to this bumblebees back legs?

Sunflowers are immense. But no bees. No nectar.

The secret trial to the bee yard. I walked. Russ and Andy drove.

Our fields of goldenrod could be saviours of Andrew’s bees. Currently bee yard is located between

two fields of commercial soybeans. Long past the flower stage.

“How far will a bee go for nectar, Russ?”

“Maybe 2 miles although they do not like the long trips.”

“So what do you think, Russ…good bee yard?”

“The problem is getting these bees ready for winter. One hive is OK, the

other is weak. We may have to combine them if Andrew is to have bees

next spring.”

“Can Andy get any honey this fall?”

“Maybe, but the bees have to eat as well…I would wait until

next year when the hive(s) might be stronger”

Russ, the beekeeper in Andy’s bee yard. “Will the bees live or die?”

How can you tell that Russ has been a beekeeper for a long time? Look at his bee outfit.

The weirdest thing about this bee visit was that Andy and Russ dressed up like spacemen while all I wore

was short pants and a polo shirt. I should have been scared, I guess. Neither Andy nor

Russ paid any attention to my vulnerability They talked bees…as if I was not there.

“What if I get stung, Russ?”

“Bee stings could do you the world of good…my dad said

they were good for arthritis pain…reduced the pain”

“I do not have arthritis, Russ?”

“Well, enjoy the bee stings as if you do.”

“Alan, would you pipe down. Andy and I have serious work

to do here. Go out and take pictures of thistles.”

Thistle honey…a rare sweetness

“Andy, the success of any bee colony rests with the female bees. They do all the work.

The male bees do one thing and then they are useless. Most die. The females keep a

few around but must get irritated for the drones just flop here and there. They do nothing

except do a bit of breeding.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Meaning?”

“Women are multi tankers. They do most of the work around home. Men just hang around

and drink a beer or two…now and then.”

“Where did you get that idea,Andy?”

“From my dad. Look at him right now. He is doing nothing but taking pictures. We

are working.”

“But we are males too…drones. “

“Right, maybe we should consider a sex change.”

Marjorie and the bee keeper’s wife, Anne…plus a friend.

“Russ, could that mask… above Marjorie and Anne…could the mask scare skunks away from

the bee hives?”

“Scares me.”

We are awaiting the honey. Humans are such insensitive creatures. Here we are prepared to

steal honey from bees who have collected nectar from millions of tiny flowers. We are worse

than insensitive. We are greedy. We give them back sugared water after stealing their honey.

How did that fox get in the house ? Marjorie come and get the fox our of here..

Russ and I have been good friends ever since high school. We spent our high school years

going on camping trips using our thumbs to get rides, then playing football for years in the mistaken

belief that girls liked the game and would therefore marvel at our skills of knocking people down.

We were mistaken. We did, however, marry roommates at Victoria College, University of Toronto.

That was one of our great achievements.

This is our son Andy and his wife Julie.

Marjorie and her pet cow named Elsie.

Two beekeepers. Andy has kept bees for 1 month. Russ and his dad have kept bees for more than 50 years. “I still do not fully understand my bees even

after 50 years. I do my best to keep them healthy.”

alan skeoch

August 2020

August 26, 2020