EPISODE 158 GRANDMA WRAPPED HOT BRICKS…ADDITIONAL COMMENT
alan skeoch Nov. 6, 2020
What a day this will be…what a grand and wonderful day. What a day that has emerged from the long dark night. Briden will win the presidency and then I firmly believe all things are possible.
My story about a frail woman, wracked with Parkinson’s disease…old… yet as strong as steel is not irrelevant. Grandma Louisa Bufton Freeman triumphed over the adversities of life. Triumphed. As I believe the American democracy has done by a razor thin victory.
Triumphed… with Joe Biden.
There will be dark days ahead but the sun is rising.
alan skeoch
p.s. When I taught history. Especially when I taught the more philosophical aspects of human history… political systems…I noted just how fragile democracy can be using this comment. “Democracy is a troubled spirit whose dream, if it dream, presents only visions of hell.” Those visions of hell have been present, have they not? Well those visions have been relieved on this day…Nov. 6, 2020.
P.P.S. Grandma wrapped the hot bricks in newspaper…thin, fragile newspaper. Today we have wrapped a very hot brick in a very thin layer of hope…newspaper thin. The hot brick remains. I know that. But it can be contained in time…the brick will cool.
Fwd: EPISODE 159 SO I DECIDED TO HELP MARJORIE…AND THAT WAS A BIG DECISION
Sorry … error in numbering episodes…this is Episode 159…not that anyone cares.
alan
Begin forwarded message:
From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>Subject: EPISODE 158 SO I DECIDED TO HELP MARJORIE…AND THAT WAS A BIG DECISIONDate: November 5, 2020 at 9:31:56 AM ESTTo: Marjorie Skeoch <marjorieskeoch@gmail.com>, Alan Skeoch <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>, John Wardle <john.t.wardle@gmail.com>
EPISODE 159 SO I DECIDED TO HELP MARJORIE…AND THAT WAS A BIG DECISIONalan skeochNov. 2020The newspaper and a cup of coffee take my full attention every morning. First, I read the lonely heartscolumn. No particular reason. Perhaps because the column is on the back page which is easier toread than taking all the effort of opening the newspaper and finding the editorial page which alwaysfeatures a political cartoon. After that I may or may not continue with the paper providing my coffeecup is not empty. If I wait a bit Marjorie will make proper coffee whereas my choice is speedy coffeewith those little plastic cupsToday was different. I never got beyond the lonely hearts column. A woman wrote a long lettercomplaining about her husband’s laziness while they are on the Covid 19 lockdown. She is atthe breaking point. He does noting to help ever since he lost his job due to the virus. He justparks himself in front of the TV all day. Does nothing. She vacuums right in front of him. He doesn’tmove. She does the washing… replaces the sheets, finds the used clothing, pushes the button. He justsits there. She makes the meals, washes the dishes…”he doesn’t even help to dry a pot.”As I read this litany of complaints I began to think. Marjorie does the vacuuming, makes the meals, washesthe dishes, puts the dishes away, does the shopping,changes the sheets, washes my socks, ….in short I realized Marjorie does it all. Me? I read thelonely hearts column and amuse myself with the political cartoon before I spend an hour or twowriting these Episodes for you…yes, for you lazy creatures who probably have a wife like mine.Lucky for us. Lucky we married multi-taskers.Then I began to feel a bit guilty. Unusual for me for I am a positive type person. Marjorie is stillin bed. She stayed up until 4 a.m. watching the horror show that never ends in the United States.My guilt got over powering. “I can do something to help, I suppose. I can put the dishes awayin the cupboard from the dishwasher.”Which is exactly what I did. Cups, plates, bowls, even the knives, forks and spoons. I put themaway. Perhaps not as neatly as Marjorie. Bit of a pain in the ass to sort the cutlery so I justpiled it in the cutlery drawer.She is still in bed. “What about my second cup of coffee? I will have to make it myself. Yuck!”So, I reached in the cupboard to grab a clean cup and was immediately a bit shocked. Theclean cup was not clean. It had a brown coffee stain in the bottom. I had just replaced itfrom the dishwasher…was the machine broken? The problem was bigger than I imagined.I had taken all the dirty dishes and cutlery out of the dishwasher and put them all awayin the cupboard. Let me say this again. Dirty dishes in the cupboard. Now I will haveto take them all out and put them back in the dishwasher. That is not an easy job. Doublethe work.What then? I will have to start the dishwasher. Push the right button. What button?I am left handed so the buttons confuse me. Great excuse that I use all the time. I donot know how to do the following tasks…do not know which button to push on the washingmachine, the clothes drying machine, the TV…hell, I do not even know how to startthe lawn mower. Feigned ignorance has served me well for sixty years.When we were first married Marjorie said “stay out of the kitchen, Alan” and I havefaithfully followed that command. Until this morning. Oh, the labour is too much.…the effort, double effort, Putting dishes back in the dishwasher before Marjorie gets up.My sole achievement is putting the little plastic cup in the coffee maker. Even thatis a trial because some days the machine needs water.I went back to the newspaper. “Who wrote that complaint? Couldn’t be Marjorie…or could it?”I dared not read the advice section so I turned back to the politicalcartoon and settled myself comfortably in the big chair.“Marjorie, are you awake yet? You will never guess what I did this morning.”She would never guess.alan skeochNov. 2020That is Woody, our dog, on the front lawn. On nice days like this I put a lawnchair beside him and soak in the sunshine. Marjorie”? You cannot see herfrom this angle. She is down in the ditch mowing the lawn. Why do I not help?I have tried. She says I do not do a good enough job. “I may as well do it myself.”I am not all bad…bought her the lawn mower after all.Putting that new lawn mower from the big box to the lawn was a lot of effort. Then I had to figure how to put the wheelson. Marjorie figured that out.“Marjorie, there is no water in the coffee machine.”
EPISODE 158 SO I DECIDED TO HELP MARJORIE…AND THAT WAS A BIG DECISION
EPISODE 158 SO I DECIDED TO HELP MARJORIE…AND THAT WAS A BIG DECISION
alan skeoch
Nov. 2020
The newspaper and a cup of coffee take my full attention every morning. First, I read the lonely hearts
column. No particular reason. Perhaps because the column is on the back page which is easier to
read than taking all the effort of opening the newspaper and finding the editorial page which always
features a political cartoon. After that I may or may not continue with the paper providing my coffee
cup is not empty. If I wait a bit Marjorie will make proper coffee whereas my choice is speedy coffee
with those little plastic cups
Today was different. I never got beyond the lonely hearts column. A woman wrote a long letter
complaining about her husband’s laziness while they are on the Covid 19 lockdown. She is at
the breaking point. He does noting to help ever since he lost his job due to the virus. He just
parks himself in front of the TV all day. Does nothing. She vacuums right in front of him. He doesn’t
move. She does the washing… replaces the sheets, finds the used clothing, pushes the button. He just
sits there. She makes the meals, washes the dishes…”he doesn’t even help to dry a pot.”
As I read this litany of complaints I began to think. Marjorie does the vacuuming, makes the meals, washes
the dishes, puts the dishes away, does the shopping,
changes the sheets, washes my socks, ….in short I realized Marjorie does it all. Me? I read the
lonely hearts column and amuse myself with the political cartoon before I spend an hour or two
writing these Episodes for you…yes, for you lazy creatures who probably have a wife like mine.
Lucky for us. Lucky we married multi-taskers.
Then I began to feel a bit guilty. Unusual for me for I am a positive type person. Marjorie is still
in bed. She stayed up until 4 a.m. watching the horror show that never ends in the United States.
My guilt got over powering. “I can do something to help, I suppose. I can put the dishes away
in the cupboard from the dishwasher.”
Which is exactly what I did. Cups, plates, bowls, even the knives, forks and spoons. I put them
away. Perhaps not as neatly as Marjorie. Bit of a pain in the ass to sort the cutlery so I just
piled it in the cutlery drawer.
She is still in bed. “What about my second cup of coffee? I will have to make it myself. Yuck!”
So, I reached in the cupboard to grab a clean cup and was immediately a bit shocked. The
clean cup was not clean. It had a brown coffee stain in the bottom. I had just replaced it
from the dishwasher…was the machine broken? The problem was bigger than I imagined.
I had taken all the dirty dishes and cutlery out of the dishwasher and put them all away
in the cupboard. Let me say this again. Dirty dishes in the cupboard. Now I will have
to take them all out and put them back in the dishwasher. That is not an easy job. Double
the work.
What then? I will have to start the dishwasher. Push the right button. What button?
I am left handed so the buttons confuse me. Great excuse that I use all the time. I do
not know how to do the following tasks…do not know which button to push on the washing
machine, the clothes drying machine, the TV…hell, I do not even know how to start
the lawn mower. Feigned ignorance has served me well for sixty years.
When we were first married Marjorie said “stay out of the kitchen, Alan” and I have
faithfully followed that command. Until this morning. Oh, the labour is too much.
…the effort, double effort, Putting dishes back in the dishwasher before Marjorie gets up.
My sole achievement is putting the little plastic cup in the coffee maker. Even that
is a trial because some days the machine needs water.
I went back to the newspaper. “Who wrote that complaint? Couldn’t be Marjorie…or could it?”
I dared not read the advice section so I turned back to the political
cartoon and settled myself comfortably in the big chair.
“Marjorie, are you awake yet? You will never guess what I did this morning.”
She would never guess.
alan skeoch
Nov. 2020
That is Woody, our dog, on the front lawn. On nice days like this I put a lawn
chair beside him and soak in the sunshine. Marjorie”? You cannot see her
from this angle. She is down in the ditch mowing the lawn. Why do I not help?
I have tried. She says I do not do a good enough job. “I may as well do it myself.”
I am not all bad…bought her the lawn mower after all.
Putting that new lawn mower from the big box to the lawn was a lot of effort. Then I had to figure how to put the wheels
on. Marjorie figured that out.
“Marjorie, there is no water in the coffee machine.”
EPISODE 158 GRANDMA ALWAYS WRAPPED A HOT BRICK OF US ON THOSE DARK WINTER NIGHTS
EPISODE 158
alan skeoch
oct. 2020
Louisa Bufton Freeman and her dog Laddie in 1957
EPISODE 158 GRANDMA ALWAYS WRAPPED A HOT BRICK FOR US ON THOSE DARK WINTER NIGHTS
(and she shook with Parkinson’s disease while doing it)
alan skeoch
Nov. 4, 2020
“Here, boys, a warm brick for each of you.”
“Hot brick?”
“You will need it…the bed will be cold.”
We left the wood stove comfort of the only heated room in the farm house. Leaving that room was Like walking into a refrigerator.
Every other room in the farm house was frozen…walls clothed in frost where the winter winds slipped through
the cracks in window and door sash. Footsteps on frozen floorboards echoed back at us from the dirt floor
cellar below our feet.
“Two tired little boys.”
“Grandma, it is really cold.”
“Climb the stairs, I’m right behind you holding the lamp.”
And she began sing…a song of which I only remember fragments.
“Too tired to climb the stairs … off to the land of Nod” Grandma had a nice singing voice
that we just took for granted as a natural part of life. Kids are like that.
We took a lot more than Grandma’s voice for granted. She had serious Parkinson’s disease.
Made her shake all the time. That lamp that she carried shook as my brother Eric and I climbed
those cold stairs. It made shadows on the wall that seemed alive and plenty frightening.
But grandma never let the disease change her life She had lived through a lot worse than
Parkinson’s.
We took everything for granted. Eric and I let grandma light the wood stove in the morning.
She had made a whole pile of twisted paper wicks from old newspaper. Getting that burning wick
in under some kindling and a piece of split maple was not easy because her hands shook so badly. She knew the
dangers that an error could light the farm house on fire so she was as careful as possible and
in no time the stove was belching out enough heat to drive the frost from the walls while wash
water was warming in the water reservoir attached to the stove.
Funny thing.. I just remember that her hands were wrinkled and the wrinkles held
soot from that stove. She was clean but the soot was deep. Grandma and Granddad
had odd habits. She had her tea cup and he had his. Those cups were old and
cracked but they were used every day. The same was true of the plates and cutlery.
Seemed almost that using those old dishes was some kind of religious act. After they
died the farm house was robbed. The robber or robbers broke in on one dark mid-March
evening when the fog was as thick as Cream of Wheat porridge. Why mention this robbery?
Because the thief took his time . He sorted the dishes. He did not take grandma and grandpa’s
cracked and beaten plates and cups. He took the good stuff, I suppose But I was glad left those
heirlooms behind. I wonder if I will have a favourite cup when I get old?
So many memories about her tumble out of my finger tips as I tap tap tap on the computer.
Around 1957 I was offered a summer job working in the bush deep in Northern
Quebec North west of Chibougamau. It was a tough and lonely job as those of you
who have lived in the wilderness know. Some of our bush crew were very rough
people. The meals we made for each other were less than perfect…fly larvae lived
well in our kitchen tent. To kill the taste of some of our meals I lathered it with
Worcester sauce. That killed the taste. Eating in the bush reminded me of Grandma’s
meals. I always ate what was put in front of me. Still do. Grandma always had
a great lump of beef hanging in the Dairy. Now there is a misnomer. The Dairy was a
dark room in the dirt floored cellar of the farm house…a room that acted as a refrigerator
The slab of beef was always well marbled with congealed fat. Grandma and granddad
loved that. I did not. I found that a slab of that beef and fat on my plate discouraged
eating so I lathered everything with Worcester sauce. Grandma notice, of course, and
she told Mom on several occasions. “Elsie, did you know that Alan loves Worcester sauce?”
What is the connection among these disparate comments? They all came together when the
bush plane landed with our mail on that lonely lake. Every time there was a letter from
grandma. I took those letters for granted. Just writing a letter was a chore for her.
her hands shook so badly. It would have been easier for her to use Parkinson’s as
an excuse for not writing. I took those letters for granted just as I did everything else
about Grandma. I never said thank you…never asked about her shakes…never
commented on the cold marbled roast beef. All I said was, “Grandma, where is
the Worcester sauce?”
Now I do not remember Grandma asking if I had a bottle of Worcester sauce on
that mine exploration job. She probably did.
I remember so much about her.
This is just my opening Episode about Grandma. Her early life was not very nice
and initially I was unsure I should even make into an Episode. Maybe she would not
want the bad times in her life put before those of you who actually read these Episodes.
No, I don’t think she would mind. She loved me. I knew that.
alan skeoch
Nov. 4, 2020
POST SCRIPT: 1885 A Child’s Garden of Verses
I Don’t remember the song she sang but the lyrics fitted the
Land of Nod as written by RoBert Louis Stevenson in 1885
“Nod” is a very interesting biblical name. The Land of Nod was supposed gel
East of the Garden of Eden. Only mentioned once in the Book of Genesis but
it has fascinated biblical scholars Did the Land of Nod exist?
The Land of Nod
From breakfast on through all the day
At home among my friends I stay,
But every night I go abroad
Afar into the land of Nod.
All by myself I have to go,
With none to tell me what to do —
All alone beside the streams
And up the mountain-sides of dreams.
The strangest things are there for me,
Both things to eat and things to see,
And many frightening sights abroad
Till morning in the land of Nod.
Try as I like to find the way,
I never can get back by day,
Nor can remember plain and clear
The curious music that I hear.
EPISODE 157 future LOOKS GRIM…MAYBE I WILL HAVE TO KEEP SENDING STORIES
EPISODE 157 FUTURE LOOKS GRIM…MAYBE I WILL HAVE TO KEEP SENDING STORIES
alan skeoch Nov. 4, 2020
Just when I believed our existence on planet earth could not get worse…things did get worse, far worse. The leader of the western world has devolved into chaos. Neighbour hating neighbour. Violence on the horizon. My only answer is writing these stories. Originally I planned to write 14 stories to help us all through the two weeks of self-isolation in March. Those two weeks became 8 months and the stories are now numbered Episode 157. A lot of stories. Trying to write one each day. Two emergency visits to the Trillium hospital broke the sequence but I managed to keep the stories coming…even a story about my amusing Morphine trips while huddled in pain at the base of my hospital bed…then another when I had an anxiety attack in the empty emergency ward.
Covid 19 kept our lives in a kind of suspension between isolation and re-emerging into the embrace of routine daily life.
I kept the stories pouring out…some trivial, some weighty, some beautiful as the fall season of 2020 was prolonged.
But last night I thought story time would be over as life would return to normal. Maybe we could get back to figuring out how to handle Climate Change which threatened our world with the Sixth Extinction. That was enough to worry about.
What a fool I was. I came to believe the pollsters and journalists and the dreamers and my friends…I came to believe all would be well if Trump was defeated and Americans began to let go of hate for one another and embrace the philosophy of Rodney King who asked long ago, “Why can’t we all get along?” (while at he same time being beaten up). Hope would replace hell. Now the reverse seems to to be happening with hell replacing hope.
As if to confirm this grim reality I turned by chance to a short news release of the far right wing fringe Americans. Too many of these deadly serious Americans were strutting around with machine guns in their arms and revolvers strapped to their camouflaged pant legs. Who were their enemies? It was a shock to realize that I was the enemy. A middle of the road believer the good will triumph over evil. A believer in gun control.
So the stories will keep coming.
Keep a stiff upper lip folks.
alan
EPISODE 156 BETWEEN HARROWING AND PLANTING WINTER WHEAT IS A LOT OF BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS…EVEN TODAY
EPISODE 156 BETWEEN HARROWING THE LAND AND THEN PLANTING WINTER WHEAT…LOTS OF WORK
Alan skeoch
oct. 2020
THIS is the man that does the job….getting winter wheat in the ground.
HOW DOES A FIELD GET THIS NICE?
“HAVE you ever wondered how tiny seeds of wheat are planted?”
“Well, all those pieces of equipment hauled by that immense tractor are
designed to put one little winter wheat seed in the ground at the proper spacing.
A bunch of seeds got confused when the tractor made a sweeping turn and those little
seeds just jumped out in a bunch but that was rare. Most seeds got out at their proper
spacing and got ready to germinate for spring combining as future pastry flour.”
“Perhaps you think that such huge machines would find the job of getting the fields ready for seeding was EASY??
NOT SO EASY AT TIMES…see below”
“This is the rig for planting those tiny winter wheat seeds…the great tub at the back is filled and then manages somehow to select tiny seeds
to be put in the ground at proper spacing. …The huge harrow at the front digs a shallow hole for the seeds. Notice the ground cover of soybean waste
left behind after the combine had done the harvesting a few weeks earlier. Called NO TILL FARMING. PLOWING IS NOT DONE from
year to year unless the fields are covered in sod.
WHEN the fields were covered in sod….deep plowing was necessary. After that…smooth sailing except where a hidden
sink hole was found.
Disc Harrow sliced up any sod that was not turned over by the plow.
How would you like to find yourself and all that equipment sinking into they hidden swamp? Believe it or not the machines got out with ease.
Why are the wheat seeds orange…reddish? They have been treated with poison…I do not know which poison. At one time Atrizine was
used…perhaps still used. Bad Stuff. A poisoned field is easy to find as no weeds can grow…the field appears a sickly grey through
the summer months if fallow. Deadly stuff.
Here is the chopped up soybean plants left as a ground cover … winter wheat seeds in a bit of cluster…an error when the
machine did a turn at the end of the field.
A long time earlier a stone picker was able to criss cross the fields in search of rocks.
the stone picker can drive forwards and backwards scooping out and scooping up rocks left by the glaciers.
And that is all there is to the job…as long as you have a million dollars or so to invest in the job. This large scale farmer owns and rents
several thousand acres of crop land centred in Limehouse, Ontario … covering miles and mlles.
…which includes the 90 acres owned by our sons and their partner.
One thing worth noting. The fields are relatively small with lots of fencerows for birds and small creatures…even large creatures like
deer and coyotes and wild turkeys. That is not always the case with modern farming…much more efficient to tear out the
fencerows and have clear fields from horizon to horizon. A sterile landscape where “no birds sing”. That will not happen here.
alan skeoch
Oct. 2020