Month: March 2021

  • EPISODE 292 MY LAST CLASS AT PARKDSLE C. I….1999 (BIGGER PICTRE, MORE KIDS)



    Begin forwarded message:


    From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
    Subject: Fwd: EPISODE 292 MY LAST CLASS AT PARKDSLE C. I….1999
    Date: March 22, 2021 at 5:03:28 PM EDT
    To: Alan Skeoch <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>




    Begin forwarded message:


    From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
    Subject: EPISODE 292 MY LAST CLASS AT PARKDSLE C. I….1999
    Date: March 22, 2021 at 4:22:10 PM EDT
    To: Marjorie Skeoch <marjorieskeoch@gmail.com>, “alan.skeoch@bell.net” <alan.skeoch@bell.net>, John Wardle <john.t.wardle@gmail.com>, Parkdale Collegiate Alumni Association <info@parkdalecialumni.com>, “marilyn.holmes” <marilyn.holmes@rogers.com>


    EPISODE 292   MY LAST CLASS AT PARKDALE C. I….1999


    alan skeoch
    March 2021


    Time has a habit of slipping by.  One year to the next.  No way to slow it down except
    possibly by this current pandemic.   Isolation slows us all down which is not a bad
    thing.  Gives us time to asses our lives and maybe discover what is  really important…the
    single grain of wheat among the chaff as it were.

    By chance I came across this picture of my last class.  Our union, OSSTF, send a
    photographer to see if I was laying down on the job.  Retiring before really retiring.
    I was caught…lying horizontal on my desk while my class did whatever they
    wanted to do.  Guess what they decided?  They decided to lean on me!  I think there
    is a song about that.



    Now take a moment to look at each face.  By now these kids are 22 years older.  Most are likely married with kids of their own.
    It is comforting to feel that our country is in such good hands.

    alan skeoch
    March 22, 2021



  • EPISODE 292 MY LAST CLASS AT PARKDSLE C. I….1999

    EPISODE 292   MY LAST CLASS AT PARKDALE C. I….1999


    alan skeoch
    March 2021

    Time has a habit of slipping by.  One year to the next.  No way to slow it down except
    possibly by this current pandemic.   Isolation slows us all down which is not a bad
    thing.  Gives us time to asses our lives and maybe discover what is  really important…the
    single grain of wheat among the chaff as it were.

    By chance I came across this picture of my last class.  Our union, OSSTF, send a
    photographer to see if I was laying down on the job.  Retiring before really retiring.
    I was caught…lying horizontal on my desk while my class did whatever they
    wanted to do.  Guess what they decided?  They decided to lean on me!  I think there
    is a song about that.



    Now take a moment to look at each face.  By now these kids are 22 years older.  Most are likely married with kids of their own.
    It is comforting to feel that our country is in such good hands.

    alan skeoch
    March 22, 2021
  • EPISODE 292 MY LAST CLASS AT PARKDSLE C. I….1999

    EPISODE 292   MY LAST CLASS AT PARKDALE C. I….1999


    alan skeoch
    March 2021

    Time has a habit of slipping by.  One year to the next.  No way to slow it down except
    possibly by this current pandemic.   Isolation slows us all down which is not a bad
    thing.  Gives us time to asses our lives and maybe discover what is  really important…the
    single grain of wheat among the chaff as it were.

    By chance I came across this picture of my last class.  Our union, OSSTF, send a
    photographer to see if I was laying down on the job.  Retiring before really retiring.
    I was caught…lying horizontal on my desk while my class did whatever they
    wanted to do.  Guess what they decided?  They decided to lean on me!  I think there
    is a song about that.



    Now take a moment to look at each face.  By now these kids are 22 years older.  Most are likely married with kids of their own.
    It is comforting to feel that our country is in such good hands.

    alan skeoch
    March 22, 2021
  • EPISODE 291 STUD FEE

    EPISODE 291   STUD FEE

    alan skeoch
    March 2021



    I do not remember his name.  But I do remember the purpose of his visit.  About a decade or
    so ago a wealthy horse owner approached Marjorie at an art show we were doing.  Art shows are
    not big deals.  Often there are no sales but lots of visitors.  Hardly worth doing sometimes when
    we considered the time involved and lugging 15 or 20 wooden quilts to a gallery…then sitting around
    waiting for whatever might happen.   Art is a very subjective thing.  Hated or loved.  But rarely purchased.
    I am not even sure I want to sell often.  Like selling myself.

    “Would Alan consider making a wood quilt that I can use in place of a stud fee?”
    “Stud fee?”
    “Yes, I have a mare who is about to be serviced.  Money for the stud fee is not
    a big issue with the stallion owner.   He is comfortable.”
    “Maybe, Alan will do it.  He likes oddball projects.  Does his own thing.”
    “Only issue is size…not too large…will hang in the stable”

    Flattering. Imagine being commissioned to create a stud fee.  My dad was no longer around but
    were he alive I know how he would have reacted.  He was a gambler.  A horse race gambler.
    He rubbed shoulders with the big shots, the horse owners, who paid extra admission to the snobbish
    Club House seating at the track.  If dad had been around he would have got a lot more
    for my Stud Fee that’s for sure.  He would wait until the transaction was concluded then he
    would hit with a whisper.  “You couldn’t see your way clear to lending me a few dollars, could
    you  I left my wallet at home.  Pay you tomorrow.”  Or maybe something different like “my car
    broke down…transmission…need the car to move my sons Wooden Quilts from a gallery in
    Haliburton.  Can you spare a bit of cash.  Do not have enough on me right now.”
    I know dad would have made much of the Stud Fee.


    I did not charge much.  The horse owner never mentioned a Kentucky stable or the fact the stallion owner
    was “really comfortable”.  I thought the Wood Quilt was destined for some poor guy who kept a stallion
    and was living hand to mouth.  Like Dad.  So the stud fee was minuscule.  

    This was the only time
    I ever made a picture for a sexual act.  That was something to brag about.

    We met the horse owner at the track later on.  He said the stud fee was just great.  Now hanging in
    the tack room at the Kentucky thoroughbred stable.   

    alan skeoch





    POST SCRIPT


    POST SCRIPT

    A lot of my visitors at the art shows were kids.  Probably because young minds are more flexible than the minds of more sophisticated
    people.  I believe The young mind can find joy far easier than the older mind.  Acid criticism is just not yet fully developed in a young mind.
    Juried art shows are avoided.   I make the pictures because I want to make them.  Not because I want a lot of criticism.   I am too old
    for that.

    Once I was asked to conduct a workshop at a museum down near Simcoe so  I cut out a bunch of cardboard shapes and had
    my audience of 10 or 12 make their own wooden quilts out of paper.  Some of he audience were children.  
    We had a lot of fun that evening.  

  • EPISODE 289 EGGS FOR SALE (‘THERE IS A TIDE IN THE AFFAIRS OF MEN AND WOMEN”)


    EPISODE 289    EGGS  FOR  SALE   (“THERE IS A TIDE IN THE AFFAIRS OF MEN AND  WOMEN”  Shakespeare

    alan skeoch
    March  2021

    Strange how small things are magnified by the human mind into universal truths.  That happened  today  as we drive up
    the fifth line.   The snow has nearly all gone revealing the bare bones of the land.  All Beige and black against a blue sky.

    “Wha’s that red speck away ahead?”
    “That will be Sandra Faber’s egg box.”
    “I’ll stop and get a couple of dozen.”

    Such a small event…and yet so grand.


    Suppose  we just drove on by.  Ignored the egg box.  Too busy with our own
    affairs to take the time to buy eggs.   Perhaps not trusting the egg box of he Faber’s.
    Could be old eggs.    

    We stopped and for a moment time stood still.  No.  Time did not stand still.  We captured a moment
    in time.  We were riding the high tide as it were.  And  capturing that moment forever.

    “There is a tide in the affairs of men.
    Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
    Omitted, all the voyage of their life
    Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
    On such a full sea are we now afloat,
    And we must take the current when it serves,
    Or lose our ventures.”
                   William Shakespeare




    “Alan, there are a  dozen goose eggs here.   Ever had  goose eggs?  They are huge.”

    “Let’s stick those big brown hen eggs….and remember the days when
    we had our own chickens…New Hampshires.  Brown eggs.”

    “Why don’t we raise chickens again?”

    “Too busy  going here and there.  Back and forth.  Up and over.  Far and  wide.
    Rushing.”

    “Not today though.  We savoured a special moment in time.  Bought eggs
    from a trusting farmer who just left them waiting for us.”