FINAL THOUGHTS FROM THE MANSION

 POST # 524

As I was walking home last night in the pouring rain, I came across this big black cat.  Typically, they don't appreciate getting wet, but this one seemed to be enjoying the evening.  In fact, it was looking rather aggressive, so I quickly continued on my journey.

It's that time of year again, so this place was one of many in the neighbourhood with a few new additions in their front yards.  By next week, all will be back to normal, whatever constitutes normal these days.

It was raining heavily the day before as well, but the koi seemed to take it all in stride.  Just another day in paradise, floating around in their pond out back.  The temperatures are starting to cool off now, and once the water temperature hits 10 C or lower,  I have to stop feeding them.  They will then go through many months without food of any kind which is really quite amazing.  Come next spring, the whole cycle will start again.  

As the season progresses, the flowers are now dying and I have been busy trimming bushes in the yard, as well as giving the lawn one last trim prior to my imminent departure next week.  I have been most fortunate to enjoy these flowers while I've been here.

This second flower will always remind me of Murphy.  I shared the photo of Murphy "standing" on this type of flower back in my September 21st post.  He was a great bonehead to spend time with, and the mansion has been a lot quieter this time around.  The cycle of life and death continues.

This will be my final post from my current location and next Wednesday I will once again be moving on to a new location.  At this point in time, I have a plan for where I will be going next, but I have one hurdle to jump in order to get there.  I won't go into details right now, but by the time I write my first post for November, I will be able to fill in all the blanks.  If for some reason I am unable to post on November 7th, as it is expected to be a busy day, I will make sure to post the following day.

I have certainly enjoyed my time here, in spite of Murphy's absence, and if I have another opportunity in the future, I will be more than happy to return.  After all, I'm sure the koi will be missing me.

grateful for every breath,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer

TURBANS AND TRAVEL MEMORIES

 POST # 523

One of the pleasures of living in the area that I am currently at, is that a very significant part of the local population is Indian, like these gentlemen featured above.  On any given day, if I go to the local shopping centre, I'll find these guys hanging out together.  I love their colourful turbans.

It was their turbans that started me thinking about my travels in India way back when.  The year was 1980, and I was staying at a small hotel in the city of Jammu.  The owner of the place was a Sikh, and part of their culture is the wearing of a turban.  Being naturally curious, one evening I asked the owner how long it takes for him to wrap the turban around his head.  Without blinking, he just popped it off his head, like he was removing a hat.  That made both of us laugh out loud.  He proceeded to show me a variety of different coloured turbans, that were all pre-wrapped and ready to wear.  Pop one off, and put on another.  Since then, I've learned that some Sikhs prefer to wrap their turban each and every time they wear it, so I guess it's up to the individual.  The guy in Jammu obviously had better things to do with his precious time, than to spend a part of each morning wrapping his turban around his head.  When I think back on this little incident, it still makes me chuckle, and it was when I was sitting next to these men in the shopping centre, that this memory flashed back into my ageing brain.  

And that memory made me think of one more Indian related story from all those years ago.

I had finally returned to Canada, after being away for the better part of three years, and I arrived by train into Vancouver.  My friends Jim and Don whom I had met in Australia, both lived in Vancouver at the time.  It was the month of June, and I had departed India on Friday the 13th of that month, so India was still very much on my mind.  Jim and Don suggested that we go to an Indian restaurant called The Punjab for a meal.  We settled in at our table, and the Sikh waiter arrived to take our orders.  Eventually our food was brought out to us.  The waiter had to pass by a couple  seated at another table, and as the food passed them by, the woman seemed particularly interested to see what we had ordered.  The food was placed down in front of us, and without giving it a second thought, I proceeded to use my right hand to scoop up my food into my mouth.  After all, I had been doing this for months, so it just seemed normal to me.  The waiter saw this, and it put a big smile on his face, and he gave that little nod of the head that Indian people do so well.  He seemed very pleased to see me eating just like he would do on any given day.  That made me smile, but what made me laugh was when I looked over at the woman at the other table.  She was poking her partner in the arm, and with a disgusted look was pointing right at me.  Who knows what she thought about this uncouth  person eating with his bare hand.  My friends at the table also got a good laugh out of it, and if I remember correctly, I think that both Jim and Don after seeing me, also decided  to eat with their right hands.  After all, they had travelled in India as well, so this way of eating wasn't foreign to them.

The morning rain has now cleared, the bike beckons, and I need to do some shopping, so it's time to head out to the shopping centre, where I am quite sure I'll see my turbaned friends sitting at that very same table.  Perhaps they will help me recall a few more memories from long ago and far away.

grateful for every breath,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer

GERRY THE ARTIST

 POST # 522

The Thoughtful Wanderer and Dora-dog

"Why don't you post this on your blog?"

Last week, this question was posed to me by my dear friend, Ted. This is the same Ted that started me reading all the way back in 1978.  I've mentioned him before on the blog.

Anyhow, he was en route to Mexico where he now lives, after visiting his daughter, son in law and grand kids in Australia.  His wife Doreen, was returning to Mexico via Los Angeles, but Ted had a three hour layover in Vancouver, so we managed to have a Skype call while he was hanging out at the airport.

It was during this call that I showed him the caricature featured at the beginning of this post.  His suggestion to me seemed to be a good one, and it allows me to now tell the story of how this caricature came about in the first place.

The story begins way back in December of 2020.  At that time I was staying at the Hotel Patricia in East Vancouver, and on most days, I would do a long walk from the hotel, along the waterfront at Coal Harbour, then skirt the edge of Stanley Park and finish my walk down by the beach near Denman Street in the West End of Vancouver.  One day, as I was approaching the end of my walk, I saw a gentleman sitting on a bench with a sign that said, "Caricatures $5.00"  He happened to be drawing one when I arrived, and I was impressed with his work, so naturally I struck up a conversation with him.  His name was Gerry, and I asked him if he could do a drawing of me and my favourite dog on the planet just from photos that I would supply.  He said no problem at all, and that's how this drawing came into being.    I think he did a great job, and the only thing that isn't Paul-like is the fact that I am wearing long pants.  Anyone who knows me, knows that I am always dressed in shorts.  However, this was my fault for not pointing that out to him from the start.

Once he emailed me the final result, I went to a print shop in East Vancouver, and they printed up about thirty copies.  I've been handing them out ever since.  Mary and Dora-dog were the first recipients, followed by my four sisters, and since then, I've been leaving a copy with all of my regular house sit clients.

I continued  doing my walks back then and took a couple of more photos when I was there after he had done my caricature.  Here's Gerry in action.

And of course I had to take a photo of the two of us together.

So that's the story of how this caricature came to be.  I've been down to the beach where we met on many occasions since that time, but I've never seen Gerry again.  I imagine, with his talent that he has moved on to bigger and better things, and if that is the case, I am very happy for him.

And thank you Ted, for suggesting this as a theme for my blog.

grateful for every breath,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer

MEMORIES OF MOM

 POST # 521

Considering that this blog is primarily about me thoughtfully wandering around between one place and the next, and spending time with lovable four-legged critters along the way, it may seem odd that I have a photo of my dear old mom at the top of this post.  Let me explain.

It's easy for me to think of mom every single day, as this photo is one of three that I have on permanent display next to my computer.  However, this past week she has been on my mind more than ever.  The reason?  Because of a couple of dates.  You would have suspected that, me being the "date guy" that I am.

The two dates that are etched into my memory are September 29th, and October 6th.  Back in September 2007, at the age of 91, mom fell and broke her hip, which resulted in a trip to the hospital, and a subsequent hip replacement. 

When I received the news, I requested time off from work at Aquabus Ferries, and flew out to Calgary to see her in hospital.  To be honest, I can't remember just how many visits I made to the hospital, but I do remember that my last visit, and as it turned out, the very last time that I would see her alive, was on September 29th.  On one of my visits, prior to the date just mentioned, a young female physiotherapist came to see mom.  Her purpose for being there was to get mom out of bed, and with the aid of a walker, to get her to walk out of the room and down the hall.  She said something to the effect, "c'mon Madonna, we need to get that new hip working."  I'm not sure how long it had been since she had had the operation, but it wouldn't have been very long.  I stood there and watched, as mom struggled to get out of her bed, and grab a hold of the walker, in preparation for her journey down the hall.  It was tough for me to watch, as she looked so very frail at this point in time.  In spite of that, she managed to start slowly walking towards the foot of her bed, where she would have to make a left turn in order to proceed out of the room and down the hall.  She made the turn alright, and shortly after that, she made me chuckle.  What on earth could she have done to make me laugh in this situation?  Well, instead of now going straight ahead, she walked to the other side of the bed, and made another left hand turn which pointed her back in the direction of the bed.  What made me chuckle, was the look that she gave the physiotherapist.  It was basically a look of "to hell with you lady, I'm heading back to my bed in spite of what you may want me to do."

On my final visit, I brought a framed photo of me on one of the Aquabus ferries, and I placed it where she could look at it.  I told her that I would be able to watch over her, even though I wouldn't be there in person.  And with that, I gave her one last hug, told her that I loved her and left to return to Vancouver, not knowing at the time, that I would never see her again.

She died one week later, on October 6th.

I have lived a life with few regrets, however I do regret not staying in Calgary longer than I did.  Of course, on the day that I left, I couldn't know that she would die the following week, and so it seemed the right decision at the time.  What's that old saying of hindsight being 20/20?

All of this happened 15 years ago.  And once again I am struck at just how fast life seems to go by.  In spite of mom not being around, she has still managed to help me appreciate the rapid passing of time.  Each day is so very precious, so it's wise to try and make the most of it.

grateful for every breath,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer