alan skeoch
may 20, 2023

“Oh, Alan,I remember that story you did on CBC radio about the Bead Bag hat.” said Nancy Smith last Friday 
“You have  a good memory…story happened decades ago.”
“Kathleen Simpson was the hat maker….sold the hats at their farm auction .”
“The auctioneer took time to explain how Kathleen gathered a pile of bread bags then got her crochet hook working. “
 “About 30 years ago or more bread was packaged in colourful plastic bags.”
“I think I should do tat story again.”

I did not need to do the story again.  Instead I punched up “bread bag hats’ on my computer and Presto! There
was the story and a picture of me with my bread bag hat.


One  of  my favourite radio  broadcasts…kind I enjoyed  doing…was  the Case of the BREAD  BAG HAT.alanskeoch.ca/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/bread-bag-hat-300×197.jpg 300w, alanskeoch.ca/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/bread-bag-hat-768×503.jpg 768w, alanskeoch.ca/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/bread-bag-hat.jpg 1280w” sizes=”(max-width: 525px) 100vw, 525px” style=”box-sizing: inherit; border-style: none; height: auto; max-width: 100%; display: inline; float: left; margin: 0px 1.5em 0px 0px;”>

We were at a  farm  auction near Marsville, Ontario, about 20 years ago when the auctioneer casually put up a few odd looking hats.  Hats  like  something I had never seen before.
“Ladies and gentlemen these  hats have been  made from  bread  bags.”
“Bread  bags?”
“Plastic bread bags just like these,” and he  held  up some bread bags some  of which were Wonder Bread  and others.
“Mrs. Simpson hates to see things wasted so when she saw all these plastic bags  going to land fill sites she used  here  rug making skills and  began  making bread  bag hats.”
“For auction?”
“Yes, right now…Do  I have a  bid?”
So Marjorie and I bought  a few bread bag hats  and the following week  I turned  it into a radio program.  People  seemed  interested.  Take a look at the hat.

Just for fun I tried variations on the expression “bread bag Hat” such as “how to make a bread bag hat”
“Hats made from bread bags” etc etc.  And each time a picture of Kathleen Simpsons’ hat appears. 
Guess whose mug appears under the hat?  A moment of unexpected fame.The real fee goes to
Katleen Simpson and her decsion to keep plastic bags away from landfills.  A leading lady.

alan skeoch


Recycled Plastic Bag Hat

page1image282196784 page1image282239248

This hat is made from used plastic grocery bags. The bags are cut into strips and crocheted. The result looks a lot like a straw hat. It can be scrunched, folded, washed and/or stomped on without damage. And best of all, it’s all recycled!

This was my first project in crochet, and it’s really easy. The most boring (and therefore the hardest) part is cutting the plastic bags into strips.


20 – 30 plastic grocery bags, cut in strips
Crochet Hook size J (6mm) or closest size. Use wood or metal hook, plastic hooks stick to

the plastic bags. *See notes on back about bag choices + methods of cutting into strips.

There is no gauge since bags come in many weights. The hat is measured in inches as you work. The hat is worked in a spiral, all in single crochet (sc), with increases and decreases determining the shape.


Use your favorite circle method and sc 8 sts into a circle.
**I use the Magic Adjustable Ring, by Donna Hulka. See ** next page. Since the hat is worked as a spiral this is where you should place a marker to keep track of your rounds (see below).

Work 2 sc into each stitch (st) until you have 16 sts. After this keep increasing as much as you need to keep the circle flat. You need to increase 6 – 8 times in each full circle, so you

could place a stitch marker and keep count. Or, like me, you could just guess, and if it starts to curl increase more, or if it looks ruffled stop increasing.


When the circle is around 7 inches in diameter stop increasing. Continue to sc in every st until the hat is the height you want (try it on). 4 inches is a reasonable minimum.


You now need to start increasing again. (I usually increase every 3rd st for the first row, to give it a definite turn.) Then work as you did on the top until your brim is as wide as you desire. Bind off and wear!

Optional: Stitch in a sweatband of some stretchy fabric (old t-shirt?) for comfort.
Add a band and/or decorations. Put a string or shoelace in to tie it under your chin


To give to top edge of your hat definition, sc into the front loop on the last round before turning. Make your hat have a round top by increasing less often.

*Notes on bags.
Bags come in many sizes, colors and weights. It is easiest to use bags of all one weight, but really, anything goes. Cut heavier bags into more narrow strips.
To make strips:

method #1: Spiral cut. Trim off the bottom and handles of the bag. Start at one end and cut into a continuous spiral. The width of the strip is your choice, wider strips need bigger crochet hooks. My favorite method is to put the bag over a pole or tube (broomstick or vacuum cleaner tube?) and hold the scissors and pull the bag towards you. You don’t actually need to snip.

method #2 : Loops. Fold the bag lengthwise into quarters and cut strips across it (more narrow than the spirals)…these make loops. Loop the loops to each other to make a continuous double weight strip, with little lumpies where they are attached.

I personally don’t like crocheting with those little lumps, so I use the spiral method.
** Magic Adjustable Ring (http://www.crochetme.com/Dec_Jan_0405/reads_round.html)

Make a loop. Hold the “yarn” where it crosses and reach your hook through to grab the “yarn” to make a single crochet. Make 8 scs and pull the tail to tighten the loop.

Crochet links:
If you’ve never done crochet you can learn here. If you’re a pro you can get ideas.

http://learntocrochet.lionbrand.com/ – basic instructions in a pdf. http://www.anniesattic.com/ – Stitch instructions in quicktime videos http://www.crochetme.com/ – Online crochet magazine http://www.turn-of-the-century.com/hooks.htm – Gorgeous hand turned wooden hooks

Basic single crochet stitch (sc). But please, get a basic book or check out the links above.

page2image283879136 page2image283879504 page2image283879808 page2image283880112 page2image283880480 page2image283880784 page2image283881088 page2image283881520 page2image283881952 page2image283882256 page2image283882560 page2image283882864 page2image283883168 page2image283883696

Insert hook, put yarn over it and pull through. 2 loops are on hook.

Loop yarn over hook again and pull through both loops.

One single crochet complete. On all rows after first circle insert hook through both loops of lower stitch.

Instructions by Jeanne Borofsky, the Dreaming Printer http://dreamingprinter.com 



alan skeoch
May 19, 2023

My grandfather, Edward Freeman, was a landscape  gardener born in Herefordshire, England.  Trained on the grounds of Windsor Castle according
to one source although he never told me that  Eventually he became the head gardener at the 1500 acre Eywood Estate near Kington, Herefordshire..
That’s apple country where the great cider apple called Red Streak once thrived and perhaps descendants are in blossom there to this day.  There’s
nothing quite like a cold glass of Bulmer’s cider on a hot day.   Although granddad preferred Rhubarb wine himself.  Made from his own
rhubarb patch that tried alongside the apple orchard.

Granddad left England as the 20th century dawned.  Perhaps tricked by Canadian advertising brochures that promised free land and freedom
from the class system.  Tricked is the word because Krugerdorf in the cold clay belt of Northern Ontario was anything but Valhalla.  A rough and ready 
place where forest fires swept across the boreal forest and piles of immigrant cut slash with the regularity of the rising of the sun,   Edward, Louisa and the
kids,, Frank and Elsie (my mom) were burned out. Lost much. Saved the old pump organ and some pictures. Fled south to a derelict 25 acre farm
in Erin Township, Wellington County, Ontario. And stayed there unto death.  We still have that farm although grander farms have disappeared all
across North America.

The best crop on that farm is rocks.  Always has been since an ice sheet two kilometres thick dumped a monstrous pile of unsorted rubble there ten
thousand or so years ago.   But it was here that the Freeman’s took up permanent residence.

And here is where the last vestige of Granddad’s gardening skills still lives.   One lone apple tree where once his orchard stood.  What kind? I have
no idea except my dad said the apples were Red Astrachans.  Unsure of that because dad accused every apple tree as being a Red Astrashan.
Perhaps he liked the name as much as I like he name Red Streak (see Herefordshire Pomona).  Decades ago I was so enamoured of that
cider apple that we purchased a page from the old Herefordshire Pomona that was framed and hanging in a ‘book breakers’ shop in Hay of Wye.
The picture hangs in our living room and visitors must wonder why we have an apple hanging there.

So that is a bit of apple history.  A tiny bit for the study of apples fills volumes .   I have not time to go into that
in depth today.   Today you have a chance to gaze at Granddad’s last apple tree.   It is not a pretty picture.  Apple trees age as humans
do…as most living things do….as burning balls called suns do.  Apple trees show their age and once they get to look crochetty they are cut down
and their wood in blocks provided a last bit of joy in the fireplace from of winter time combustion.  Will that be the final resting
place of granddad’s apple tree?

Maybe.  But not this year.  This year it is in full blossom. Few blossoms last year.  But this year, 2023, a glorious bunch of blossoms
on the few live branches.  Hopefully our son Andrew’s bees have found those blossoms and will provide a jar of honey when
Andrew steasl some honey from the bees next fall.

I think I will call that honey “Red Astrachan RedStreak”, granddad would like that.




alan skeoch
May 10, 2023

90+ Cop Giving Ticket Stock Photos, Pictures & Royalty-Free Images - iStock  | Police ticket

Heavy traffic as I swung into the long curve of the QEW heading to the Burlington Bridge.   My exit was
North Beach coming up fast.  Traffic speed around 70 km …Then before my eyes on the
right shoulder were three police cars with lights flashing.   My mind raced.

“Alan, pull to the left…that’s the law…police vehicles…give them space “
Quick look to the left.
“Damnit, I have an 18 wheeler beside me …all going 70.”
Quick look in rear mirror.
“Damnit car right behind me…cannot brake.”
Then, like a lightning bolt I was into the danger zone.
“Noting I cooudl do.  The 18 wheeler could not slow down,  Pulling to the left would  probably
kill someone, namely me and maybe others.   That is how accidents happen.  With the speed of
summer lightning.  Choices have to be instantaneous.  My decision was to stay in my lane
and squeeze by the OPP cars.  There was room for that.

The 18 wheeler was dark brown.  Funny I would notice that.  If I dared move i would be partly under
his bed in a tangle of shredded metal and exploding rubber.    

Te police officers were discussing something  … well away from my open lane.
BaZoom…I was through the hole.   Flipped my right turn signal and slowed down to exit
at North Beach.  The 18 wheeler had pulled into my lane heading for the same exit.

The near crisis was over.  Or so I thought.   The sun was out …the trees were in leaf. 
And daffodils danced on the fine lawns of North Beach homes..  sign of relief.

Then I heard the siren.  Somewhere behind me.  Actually right behind me.  Those flashing lights and siren were
meant  for me.  An OPP criuiser.   

“Damn! Damn! Damn!  “

I pulled over and the cop levered himself  out of his car.

“You nearly hit me, sir.”
“I had no choice.   But I  know the law….sorry…not much else I can say.”
“Licence please.”
I fumbled for my licence and insurance.
“There was barely an inch or two between my car and your truck.  Very dangerous.”
“I know that, sir, my excuse sounds lame.  That 18 wheeler gave me no choice…
could not move to the left.”
“You could have slowed down, sir.””
“yes.  Car behind me…coming around long curve.  I know I am guilty.   Only
excuse Have is the 18 wheeler.  I am guilty.”
“Only an inch or two clearance, sir.”
And away he went with my licence.  Would I lose points?   No doubt a hefty fine
as well.  
Then the cop got out of his car holding a long sheet of official looking paper.
“Sir, I am not giving you a ticket.  Only this warning.”
Thanks was not enough
“Can I shake our hand, sir,”
“The more I thought about it, sir, I did see that tractor trailer beside you..pulling 
in front of you.  There was no choice.  So this is just a warning.  It could have been
a fine and a court date.”

Driving is dangerous.  Highways are used by thousands of big rigs these days.  I am
a tire counter.  Some of these rigs have as many as 32 wheels which  means
they are carrying a lot of weight.    Armed with air brakes.  Which means instant stopping…
burning rubber…fish tailing….death.

I am indebted to that police man…a Chinese Canadian I noriced not that that matters.
A nice guy who weighed the situation snd gave me the benefit of the doubt.
I did not mouth off.  such as Yell about the 18 wheeler.  If I had mouthed off then the whole
thing  would be different. 

I was shaken.  Nervous as I pulled into the Burlington Golf and Country Club where six of my
high school chums were waiting.  We meet for lunch twice a year.  Old friends from
the 1950’’s.  We played football together long ago when we were big and strong
and the world was our oyster at Humberside Collegiate.

A guy was beside me putting on his golf shoes. He looked at me and said.

“Well , did you get a ticket?” 
“No….just a warning.
“Lucky man.”
“I did not mouth off.”
“Always a good idea.”

I was five minutes late for our lunch.  The boys hooted and laughed.  Glad to see me.:/

Ontario Provincial Police vow to be out patrolling this holiday weekend |  CTV News  



alan skeoch
May13, 2023


 Marjorie and I noticed the Royal Dragoon Guards with special interest during the coronation
of Charles III.

“Alan, those cavalry soldiers are wearing our helmet.”
“Our helmet?”
“yes, the tinware helmet your mom was given as  family heirloom”
“There it is sitting up near the beam in the fireplace room.”
“Not ignored but certainly Taken for Granted.”
“who wore it?”
“Una Dunne’s father was a fireman in a place called Deal I believe
“In Dorset.”
“That’s where your great grandfather  lived until he died.”
“Remember when we visited Una?”
“She was a poet….gave us little volumes of her poetry.””
“She also gave  mom the dragoon helmet that British firemen wore in the 19th century.”
“Did the hemet have any practical use?”
“I suppose it did…stopped falling bricks or flaming timbers from crushing skulls.”
“Dragoon helmets are only used for fancy occasion.”
“Like a coronation.”
“Let’s wear it now as we watch the coronation of Charles III.”

Do you want to know more?  Scroll down.

Dragoon helmet

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Helmet used by the Swedish Life Guards, c. 1823

dragoon helmet was an ornate style of metal combat helmet featuring a tall crest; they were initially used by dragoons, but later by other types of heavy cavalry and some other military units. Originating in France in the second half of the 18th century, it was widely imitated by other European armies and was last used in combat in 1914. Some military units continue to wear this style of helmet for parades and other ceremonial duties.


18th century European dragoon cavalry generally wore tricorn hats, but in 1762, the French Army introduced a new uniform for their dragoon regiments, featuring a crested helmet, loosely based on classical Ancient Greek and Roman styles.[1] It was made of steel with a brass crest and featured an imitation panther fur “turban” and a long black horsehair mane or plume.[2] One distinctive example of this kind of headgear used to be the Tarleton helmet. By the end of the century, it had developed a taller, more elegant shape and a removable feather plume at the side, which was only worn on parade.[3] The dragoon helmet was also adopted by the French cuirassier regiments which were first formed in 1803,[4] and by French engineers. In 1812, the French engineer corps became responsible for the Paris fire brigade, the Sapeurs-pompiers, who also adopted the dragoon helmet;[5] this was later copied and adapted by other European fire services, including the London Fire Brigade who introduced the crested Merryweather helmet in 1868 following a visit to Paris by Captain Sir Eyre Massey Shaw.[6]

Members of the Paris Fire Brigade in dragoon helmets, c. 1900.

In 1798, the Imperial and Royal Austrian Army introduced a crested helmet for nearly all their troops;[7] it was made of leather with metal fittings and had a woollen “comb” instead of the French mane. A taller version of this helmet was adopted by the dragoon regiments of the Imperial Russian Army in 1803, replacing a bicorn hat.[8]British dragoons and dragoon guards adopted a helmet of the Austrian style in 1812, but quickly replaced the woollen comb (known as a “roach” in British service) with a horsehair mane;[9] the Household Cavalry however, followed the opposite path, first adopting horsehair but rapidly replacing it with a woollen comb.[10]
In the century that followed, the dragoon helmet continued to be worn both on parade and in battle. In 1842, the Prussian Army replaced their crested helmets with one surmounted by a spike, the Pickelhaube.[11] The British heavy cavalry, who in 1817 had adopted the “Roman Pattern” helmet with a huge bearskin crest,[12] replaced it in 1847 with the “Albert Pattern“, a spiked helmet with a falling horsehair plume, which could be removed when on campaign.[13] The Albert Pattern helmet was also used by cavalry raised in various parts of the British Empire, for example, The Governor General’s Horse Guards, formed in Canada in 1855.[14]
As the power and accuracy of weapons increased, so conspicuous headgear like the cavalry helmet began to be discarded in favour of more practical designs. Bavaria, however, would stick to the Raupenhelm [de] (caterpillar helmet), this unmistakable feature of many of its army’s uniforms, until the adoption of prussian models only after King Ludwig’s death in 1886. In France, the traditional uniform was considered to increase the esprit de corps of the heavy cavalry in their role as shock troops and the French dragoons and cuirassiers rode to war in them in 1914, the only concession to modern warfare being drab-coloured helmet covers which were first issued in 1902.[15]





episode 818
alan skeoch



alan skeoch
may 6, 2023

NASA's interstellar Voyager 1 and 2 probes have now been in space for 45  years
Voyager 2 - Wikipedia
Voyageur 1 and 2 have been moving through space for more than 45 years. Just for fun let’s assume
you ae a 40 year old astronaut preparing to fly to the outer edge of our solar system and beyond;
Let’s  assume you boarded Voyageur 1 which was luanched in 1977.  Today Voyageurs 1 and 2 have
gone beyond the limits of our solar system into the darkness of interstellar space en route to
a star closest to us called  Alpha Centauri.

40 year  astronaut  + 45 year trip to edge of our solar system = 85 year old astronaut

Return trip:  85 year old astronaut  + 45 year trip back to earth = 135 year old astronaut 


NASA Voyager Probes: 18 Best Pictures As 45-Year Journey Nears End
pictures send back to earth

I will never be a space explorer.   I have come to accept that fact after careful
consideration. I even feel sorry for two of our most famous spacecraft.  Voyageur 1
ans  Voyageur 2 were launcnhed in 1977 as fellow travellers in the exploration 
of the planets of our solar system. only a few scientists expected the space twins to get beyond Jupiter and 

Guess  what?  They reached Jupiter in 1979 and then went on to reach Saturn in 1980.  
They sent  us pictures of both of both planets..   And kept on flying at 17 km/ second.
Faster than my truck.  A lot faster than our tractor.   And far faster than most of us will ever travel.

In August 2012 they reached the outer limits of our solar system. 

Now this is where I started thinking  and came to the conclusion I wil never be a spaceman.
Think about it.   The Voyageur twins had been flying for 35 years they exited our solar system.  

NASA assures me that the Voyageur twins trAVel 523 million kilometres a year. 

And when I consider the prospect of space travel I reject it outright.  Why would I want to speNd 46 years of my life
flying no where.   If I returned, which is doubtful, I would be 90 years old.  What baseball team would want
me?  What chance would I have to become an Olympic pole vaulter?  Marriage?   At 90”  You joke.

Our nearest solar system is not really near in our terms.  Light-years away.  Light ravels at 186,000 miles per second  ( 300.000.000 meters per second.)

Carl Sagan (Cosmos, page 289) says it will take a beam of light from earth about  4 years to reach Alpha Centauri, our nearest star.
Travelling at 186,000 miles per second.  Then how long would it take the Voyageur Twins to get there travelling at a measly
slow pace of 17 kilometres per second?   A long long time.  Longer than a human lifetime for sure. With no chance of  a return flight.


“ALAN, There is somone a thee door,  didn’t you hear the bell?”
“Whups!   Must stop tYping…answer door…very insistent  person there.”
“Mr. Skeoch, I have been sent from NASA to see if you would like to be a passenger on Voyageur 1. There is
just room enough for 1 person.”
“Did you say you were from NASA?”
“Well, take your offer and place it where the sun does not shine.”
“And  get off  my front porch now.


Space exploration is perfect place for AI ,,,Alternative Inteligence…..thingamabobs.




alan skeoch
april 29, 2023


Auction sales are a gamble for the seller. Particularly farm sales.  The sun could shine or rain could fall.
On April 29 there was no sun….some rain….lots of mud.   But there were also plenty of bidders who
came hell or high water.  On sunny days a goodly part of the crowd have not come to bid but rather they
have assembled for the sun and the entertainment.  So what you see in these pictures are the real hard
core bidders.  Of which I am a member.

Doug Donaldson was the auctioneer and one of his daughters caught the bidder numbers. Bill Brooks 
acted as helper and motor mechanic.   No animals left on the farm except for a couple of cats one
of which was pregnant.  Ian Kilner had a mystery sign nailed to his farm wagon….”Don’t 
criticize farmers with your mouth open.”  (open to interpretation)

The saddest part of the sale was the arrival of a large scrap iron truck.  Some of these things…these gems… will
not be seen again.  I was tempted to buy the Massey Harris combine just for old times sake but curbed
my enthusiasm.  It sold for $800…I fear it was destined for the scrap truck.

What did we buy?  Perhaps I should not say ‘we’….it was me.  Pile of lumber with planks 16 feet long, a wood mounted drill 
press, a pile of chisels, a ladder, two old toolboxes (one filled with used screws and washers rather than the treasures
expected), a fogging machine (for what purpose?), a rake for Marjorie, 2 jacks, 2 large wide flat boards redolent of manure
and time (for future wooden quilts), a 1963 Farmall row crop tractor in running condition  and other things best forgotten.
If you are about to say something negative about my bidding save your breath.  It is an addiction.

Marjorie arrived with Woody our dog just as Doug Donaldson said “Sold” and accepted my bid for the
Farmall tractor.   No hostile comment from her, she is familiar with idiosyncratic bidding. Tractor was purring like
the cats hidden away in the barn.  I will not reveal the price.

Here are some faces and a random collection of what could be purchased.



alan skeoch
may 2, 2023

In 1960 I was a prospector in search of magnetic anomalies in he Yukon Territory,   Three months growth of beard that was reddish
as my fathers.  In mid September I was heading home and ‘missed my loved one so’.  Gordon Lightfoot captured my feelings
that lonely day when I sat on the ground at the mountain fringed airport in Juneau, Alaska.  Yes, it was an ‘EARLY MORNING RAIN’ 
that day.

“Big 707 set to go, but I’m stuck here on the ground with no place to go”  Gordon Lighffoots’ song titled
‘In the early Morning Rain’ is pressed indelibly in my brain .  So firmly that total recall brings back
the images of mid September 1960 when I was standing behind the chain link fence of the airport
at Juneau, Alaska.   Yes, I do believe it was even raining that memorable day in my life as Iwatched
‘Big 707’s’ takeoff and land.  The landing and takeoff strip was short as Jneau was hemmed in by
mountains so jet planes had to use extra power each time.

For the past three months I had been conducting elector-magnetic mining surveys for Huntech
at various sites in he Yukon Territory for $400 a month, money destined to pay my U. of T fees 
in my graduating year.  Marjorie and I were engaged to be married but had been separated for the
duration of the Yukon job.  I longed to get home but at the same time I wanted to get the fulll
experience of the magical Yukon gold rush days of the 1890’s.   So my exit from the Yukon
was an indirect route from Mayo Landing to Whitehorse to Skagway to Juneau to Seattle to
Vanouver to Toronto.    The adventure plan.

I was alone.  Travelling alone.  Loneliness.  My budget?  Scraping the bottom of barrel as I planned 
to cover the costs by cashing in my direct flight return to Toronto from Whitehorse which was
covered by Huntech.  Meals were to be cold pork and beans direct from the cans.  Lodging
was flop house kind.  Transport by bus to Whitehorse and the magical White Pass Railway to
the dead end at Skagway then whatever I could find to travel by boat to Juneau.

All the way serenaded by my memory edition of Gordon lightfoot’s Early Morning Rain.   Memory
became reality at that chain link fence as big  Boeing 707’s laboured to clear the mountains.
I was booked on one of those flights that day.  No extra money for hotel or food or transport.
I had get out.  No money left.  “So I sat there on the ground’ with no back up plan.

498 707 Stock Photos - Free & Royalty-Free Stock Photos from Dreamstime
Juneau aerial view

Mt. Juneau, Juneau Alaska
In the early morning rain with a dollar in my handWith an aching in my heart and my pockets full of sandI’m a long way from home, Lord, I miss my loved ones soIn the early morning rain with no place to go
Out on runway number nine a big 707 set to goAnd, I’m stuck here in the grass where the pavement never growsNow, the liquor tasted good and the women all were fastWell, there she goes, my friend, she’ll be rolling down at last
Hear the mighty engines roar, see the silver wing on highShe’s away and westward bound, far above the clouds she’ll fly
There the morning rain don’t fall and the sun always shinesShe’ll be flying over my home in about three hours time
This old airport’s got me down, it’s no earthly good to meAnd I’m stuck here on the ground as cold and drunk as I can beYou can’t jump a jet plane like you can a freight trainSo, I’d best be on my way in the early morning rain
You can’t jump a jet plane like you can a freight trainSo, I’d best be on my way in the early morning rain

Gordon Lightfoot

So the song and the setting came together in the Long Term 
storage part of my brain.
With each word of Gordon’s lyrics images of that Juneau airport on a rain
swept morning with a Big Boeing 707 set to go.  I would soon be on my
way alone and eastward bound but at that magical moment I was
‘along way from home, Lord, and missed my loved ones so in the
early morning ran with no place to go.’  

‘So, I’ best be on my way in the early morning rain.

alan skeoch

P>S>  Just getting to Whitehorse had been an adventure.  Mayo Landing is
a tiny community on the Stewar River.  The only way out was by bus sometime
around mid night.  The bus driver did not show up with his bus.  Had to be
awakened but his cabin was surrounded by sled dogs.  How was i to get 
out in time to reach Pelly Crossing and the bus to Whitehorse?  “Just take the
bus, keys are usually in the ignition”, suggested one of my mining associates
…”happens all the time”.  

So I did.  Never drove a bus before in my life but door was open, key in ignition.
‘ Vrroom ‘, I was on my way in the blackness of a Yukon night.  I even picked
up a few passengers at the Hotel and then threaded my way carefully on the 
near empty highway to the Yukon River junction point.  Parked the bus and
as the sun rose boarded the southbound bus to Whitehorse.

   I was on my way.I  Gordon Lightfoot seems to have felt as I  did when he
wrote Early Morning Rain.

Marjorie, mom and dad were there to greet me.  Later, mom and Marjorie pinned me to the ground and cut off my red beard. I was home.