Melina,s Birthday

Ken said I could download a picture from email - he was right - beautifull mother and child

LIFE HAS ITS UP'S AND DOWNS

ME AND SHILRLEY - ON OLD FRIEND OF BETH AND ME - HER BIRTHDAY

I was sitting here reading some of this blog from 2008. It seems a very long

time ago. At the time I was getting very powerful hormone injections (at $1500 a shot) and radiation treatment. My little body was, I reckon, going through multi changes -

and not liking any of them.

Against two specialist advice I stopped the injections after nine months. Once I had made it very clear I would not continue the injections, Both of these doctors in hushed tones said,

"neither would I"

So now my body has returned to being more or less its old self. I am back to shaving every day.

I have lots of energy. I was going to play hockey again with my old timers group, but it appears the Peripheral Nuropathy in my feet/legs may not let that happen - I may give it one more try.

My knees are much better than they have been for years - I rode my bike about ten k today.

So all in all, if Beth would put about fifteen pounds on I would be a very contented man.

MOTHER AND CHILD - BEAUTIFUL

Jasmine - Such a pretty little lady

A much happier subject - proud mommy and a happy healthy baby!

We who have large families are so very blessed - even it we cant see them as often as

we would like.

THEY ARE WINNING - WE ARE HELPING

The other day as I was entering a store I held the door for an elderly couple to enter, and then followed close behind into the store.

Immediately the alarms went off.

Almost at the same instant both the lady ahead, and I said ,"don't worry it's just me."
We both had a little laugh as I explained that for some reason I often make the alarms go off either entering or leaving some stores. The lady then told me she had a prosthesis that had just caused her all sorts of trouble at the Vancouver Airport YVR. She was body searched, which included the humiliation of having her panties pulled and snapped, all evidently in front of several onlookers. She and her husband were still fuming, weeks after the incident.

I have been mussing lately about airport security. What specifically bothers me is the obsessive, intrusive, and callus attitude most of these people exude. It appears to this observer some of these workers are just a little too enthusiastic, exuberant, and thorough
in their work.

I have just read an article from the Saskatoon Star Phoenix, about among other things, the actions of airport security personnel at Canadian Airports. The situation is similar in all of North America.

Evidently at Calgary a four year old Saskatoon girl was forced to put her doll through the scanner, and then was told to proceed alone for a full body scan or submit to a pat down.
In this same article it mentions an 84 year old breast cancer survivor, who when asked if she carried any fluids said no. Despite this they forced her to submit to a pat down. They then humiliated and embarrassed her as they fondled the gell in her prosthetic breast.

As I mentioned I have been thinking about this whole ridiculous situation for some time. The following thoughts keep popping up - in no particular order.

The odds of being in an aircraft downed by a terrorist is probably about twice high as being hit by lightening.

Not very many Caucasian (at the risk of being called a racist) Canadian grandmothers have been convicted - or charged- with being a terrorist.

Not many Caucasian (at the risk of being called a racist) Canadian men, women, children, or even teenagers, have been charged with being a terrorist.

Very few Canadians of any color or religion have been charged with being terrorists.

Virtually all those involved with 911 were from Saudi Arabia - all were Muslim.

Most of the suicide bombers in the world are Muslim.

The Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv has probably the best airport security in the world. Evidently they do not hassle every passenger - they only pay special attention to a passenger if he or she gives them reason for suspicion Evidently they concentrate on close observation, some sort of profiling and general airport security.

Very few Canadian carry bombs - even if they did I assume the super detectors at all our airports would find them - without anyone having their underwear touched.

The overwhelming odds are, a terrorist (at the risk of being called a racist) will not be a Caucasian.

The leaders - if there is actually a cohesive world leadership of terrorists, must be extremely satisfied with the situation at airports throughout the western world. I imagine they are thrilled by the inconvenience, frustration, anger,lost time and,delays innocent travelers the world over suffer because of them (with lots of our help). Maybe the worse part of this whole frustrating situation is the feeling of helplessness millions of people feel, every single day of the year.

Maybe we should use common sense at airports.

Because we as a nation feel we must be fair to all (which is good) we must never acknowledge the obvious - it may hurt someones feelings. so we will gladly inconvenience millions instead of maybe inconvenience a few - and I do sympathise with the few.

A person about to enter an aircraft, that through no fault of his/her own, resembles persons known to to be terrorists should maybe expect just a little more attention than a four year old child that has no resemblance whatsoever.

Well I feel better now!

Rememberance Day -2010

It is Rememberance day - this is the first one Beth and I have not attended in person since we got married. We went out for a little walk in the Water Shed park and have just got home and are watching the service from Ottawa on the TV. I was reading my Uncle Wilfred's letters from his hospital bed in England to his Mother, last night. So sad, he was so full of hope to be home for Christmas. But the doctors knew that would not happen. In fact as we learned later from Wilfred's Doctor (who just happened to also be a Canadian, and amazingly also from Saskatoon) Wilfred had a piece of shrapnel in his heart and and it was a miracle he lived at all.

Well, since I received the shots in both knees last march, they have so much better.

I decided to give hockey (or at least skating) another try. Went down to a little rink in Delta called Tillsbury (close to where Sandra works). The manager let me go out on his newly flooded rink by myself for a few minutes - he insisted I must wear total hockey gear - which when you havent skated for a few years and are old and have peripheral nuropathy in your feet is a rather good idea.
I did notice as I was getting dressed I could lace -up my skates much easier than the last time I tried it when I was still getting the hormone shots (and the little girl offered me her mittened hand for support) - I have lost about twelve pounds since then. The skates were very cold and hard, not flexable and looked like a bit of rust on the bottom, but I eventually got all my stuff on.

So holding my brand new Super Store 8$ hockey stick firmly with my new Hockey gloves I gingerly stepped out on the beautiful glistening fresh ice- I have always loved that feeling getting out on fresh ice. The first thing that happened was my skates seemed to stick to the ice and I almost fell on my face - luckily I had the hockey stick. Then as I moved a few feet I almost fell over backword, then almost on my face again. I shuffled out to the middle of the rink and slowly tried turning, each time I almost fell, but as my muscle memory and I guess balance memory slowly kicked in I felt more confident and after about ten minutes I was actually skating and turning, albeit more like a 4 year old than a NHLer. So I packed it in for the day, but felt pretty good with the progress.

As I was leaving the manager mentioned there was drop-in hockey the next morning.

I gave it some thought the next morning, (yesterday) I had been planning to attend the church men's coffee morning. But I figured if i didnt go out with a few guys and at least pass the puck around I might put it off and not see if I could improve.

So I did go and did skate with several teenagers, I continued to improve and after about 20 minutes I was skating and shooting the puck resonably well - all in all I am thrilled - I figure a couple of more times and I may be able to go back and play with john and my old timers group.

SO PROUD TO BE A CANADIAN

It makes me so proud to be a Canadian.

Omar Khadr Not Tortured, Gitmo Judge Finds

The land of the free and the brave Military have held a Canadian child in a questionably legal prison for eight years. Now I am no international legal expert or lawyer, but this is how I perceive the situation. This Canadian child (possibly a brainwashed mixed-up child) was legally visiting a country with the blessings of the legal government at the time. The USA led NATO forces invaded this country. NATO forces as far as I understand did not declare war on Afghanistan. I guess this eliminates those picky little rules of war. It appears he was in the wrong place at the wrong time; in any event he was very seriously injured by the invaders fire.

He was captured.

He allegedly threw a hand grenade or some such device, which in most cases taken at face value would be considered some form of self defence. He allegedly killed a US Medic. The killing of this Medic is very unfortunate and sad, I'm sure all Canadians share the grief and sorrow of this Soldiers family. The Canadian youth - now I believe twenty-three years old - is being tried by the United States Military. It seems strange to this Canadian, that we as a Sovereign Nation, respected member of NATO and closest neighbour to the USA do not see it as our duty to try the accused based upon Canadian (or possibly international) law.

We must have no Justice system. I guess we have no Lawyers. It must be we have no Judges. We have no pride in our Justice system. No able Prosecutors. No Defence lawyers to act for the accused. No concept of Justice or pride of Country.

I am so proud to be a Canadian

Beth - studying map - Then Lost again

 

We have been taking walk's in the Watershed park lately - there are a lot of trails
going all which way - this means most of the time we are lost. It is a beautifull, peacefull refruge from the busy world only meters away. Although the park is probably only about forty acres all told, we manage to find a new way to get lost every time we enter.Now I must admit the term LOST is a relative term, we are lost in the sense we don't know where we are for the moment, but we are only a 15 minute walk home once we find our way out! For example - within five minutes of taking this picture we were lost again and found a very deap revine we did not know existed, so we stopped and had our Root Beers and took some pictures of Beth's left over drink running down the trail- an exciting day for the old folks. Which in itself is a rather interesting subject - getting old that is. We don't actually think we are getting older until something comes up (like jumping over a log) and you fall or even worse don't event try to jump over it - sigh - it is all too depressing. That is until you accept where you are within the great scheme of things and enjoy each others company.

THE DELTA QUEEN

THIS IS A GOOGLE EARTH SHOT OF LOW TIDE AND THE EXACT LOCATION OF THE ADVENTURE
OF THE DELTA QUEEN

I was going to have a first class hissy fit about The top two Canadian banks
and their unmitigated gread,audasity,stupidity, and I will come up with several more adjectives to describe both of them and their letters to pretty much any canadian reading this about there dire needs and how they must raise rates and charges. This at a time when they recieve money at the lowest rates in generations. When they both have made record obscene profits and when they both are giving a whopping one half of one percent interest to their customers. These charges on a host of services go up in many instances by one hundred percent - yes that is 100% - other rate changes for credit card interest go from a low 19% to somthing like 26% if you miss a payment. Gee looks like I have started my rant, but I will relax for a day or two and then return and do it properly.
So as I was beginning to say I decided to post the following little story that has been bouncing around in my little brain for quite a while.

THE DELTA QUEEN

George was a prairie boy. Like many boys born in Saskatchewan during the dust filled 1930s, he had always had a longing for the ocean. More to the point he had a suppressed obsession with owning a grand ocean going boat.

George and Mary married in the mid 50s and moved to B.C. all on the same day, a few years later they moved to Delta. As the reader may know, Delta is a Municipality located on the ocean at the furthest South Western tip of mainland Canada. It took a few years and a few children later, but finally George made the plunge and bought what was to his eye, a jewel of a ship. To more knowledgeable seafaring blokes it may have appeared to be more of a lemon.

To be sure George did have a few problems at first. He now owned a beautiful 21ft Cabin cruiser with a 110-horse power Volvo inboard/outboard that positively gleamed. It was with great excitement and expectation he for the first time pressed the start button.
Nothing.

Well not quite nothing, there was a little click.

Eventually after several ‘experts’ giving their opinions with no results, the motor was shipped to the Volvo repair shop where it was determined the pistons were rusted solid to the cylinder walls. Several hundred dollars later the engine was returned and put into the boat, but not until a foot of water was pumped out of the wooden hulled beauty. This craft looked like a fiberglass boat, but in fact it was plywood, covered with fiberglass, this made it (at least for prairie boy) most difficult to find any leaks.

In any event George spent many a happy hour tinkering and fooling around with his beauty. It was on one of these tinkering days (tinkering at the dock was much safer than getting out on the big ocean) on a spring afternoon that George had what was to be remembered for many years by his fellow Air Traffic Controllers as the “Adventure of the Delta Queen”

George was on his way to work at the Vancouver Airport on the afternoon shift and as he often did, left early so he could work on his boat. He took his good clothes to change into after working on the boat; no dummy was our friend George. So after an hour or so of basically wasting time, a brilliant thought stuck George, why not go to work with his boat. It is important here to visualize the terrain in this part of the world. The municipality of Delta is south of Vancouver BC, the South Arm of the Fraser River is the northern boundary between Richmond and delta. The Fraser River as it flows into the Straight of Georgia divides into three arms, The North Arm (which separates Richmond from Vancouver) the Middle Arm (which has the seaplane dock for Vancouver International Airport and The Air Traffic Control Centre) and the South Arm.


He threw his good clothes into the boat, pushed the starter, put it into reverse looked behind him, gave it a bit of throttle and immediately fell to the floor as the bow rope tightened to the dock.

As he slowly chugged past the men working on their nets (AT THE PERFECT SPEED TO MAKE THE GREATEST BOW WAVE) he felt like the proud and brave seafarer he was rapidly becoming. He realized this was true as the men all waved to him in what he took to be a nautical one fingered salute as he passed.

It was so peaceful sitting on his high stool on the bridge looking at this new and wonderful world, starting out on his first little adventure with his ship going down to the sea. As he chugged along he only had one more friendly one finger wave, it was from a very large fellow, who it seemed to George was maybe chocking, since his face was quite red.
No time to worry about strangers health, must keep alert to find where this famous Ladner Reach met the large South Arm of the mighty Fraser. He really need not have worried, as it ran straight (well it did after the bridge opener guy at the Westham Island bridge told him to turn around) into this large rather scary body of water, complete with large ocean going freighters and local fishing vessels.

Reaching the South Arm was quite a thrill. George as was his wont spoke to himself out loud. ‘Well George boy, you did it. All we do now is follow the river to the Strait of Georgia make a right, another right at the Middle Arm and there you are at the Air Traffic Control Centre, piece of cake.’ Once again George marveled at the beautiful blue sky and the feel of the sun on his face, although he did notice that as he proceeded west toward the ocean there seemed to be a little mist forming. Now was the time to see what this baby would do, he opened the throttle almost full and the feeling of power and joy thrilled his little heart. However he was a bit reluctant to open it all the way up as there was quite a bit of chop around from all the boats around. So George just left it so the hull was not planning properly, just at that in between speed (maybe 15 knots) to use the most fuel.
After about what seemed a very long time heading away from land he passed the lightship, (a Light-House at the end of a spit of land about two miles off shore) and almost immediately lost sight of land. What a feeling, alone, just water, sun and mist, or was that fog on the water? It really didn’t matter as the sun was shining through, and it was now smooth as glass. George being an Air traffic Controller knew he wasn’t out of the shallows yet, and depending on the tide you had to go further out. Unfortunately George had not checked the tide tables, but like he figured they wouldn’t mean much to him anyway since this was his first time on the ocean. So he just decided to go a good ways out to make sure. The feeling of the water thumping the hull, and the exhilarating cool fresh damp air against his face was beyond joy. Suddenly it dawned on George; he had been steaming away from land for quite some time. So he made a ninety-degree right turn, pushed the throttle to the firewall and almost instantly his beautiful craft leveled out on the step and he was literally flying at about 30 knots.

As he cruised along with no cares in the world, with the sun shining weakly through the thin fog, he kept a sharp eye out for water traffic and was just a little nervously scanning to his right for any sight of land. He figured he was getting close to the Middle Arm as he could see aircraft climbing off runway 26 at Vancouver International. As he strained his eyes to find sight of land he glanced to the stern, to admire his Volvo humming away. To say the sight he saw was shocking is an understatement of enormous proportions.
George had heard the saying ‘Rooster Tail” when referring to those monster Speed Boats that raced down in Seattle. It never crossed his mind his cruiser could ever go fast enough to make a rooster tail. So one can imagine, or maybe not, the joy and fascination George felt as he saw this plume of water rising at least ten feet into the sky behind his speeding craft. At virtually the same instant George noticed something else: the plume behind him was brown, sort of the color of sand. Now George was a very quick thinking individual, his thought process went something like this – brown – sand – expensive Volvo engine – sand going through engine – very bad – cut throttle. George instantly cut the power.

A very big mistake.

The craft went from 30 knots to zero in about two seconds. When George picked himself of the deck it was eerily quiet, no slapping hull sound, no wind sound, no motor sound, silence. He stood up (as best he could on the twenty degree angle of the deck) and looked around. All he could see in any direction was water and thin fog. It was as if he had been dropped in the middle of the Pacific Ocean in a life raft, granted a rather large life raft. His first thought when he chopped the power was he had hit a small submerged sand bar. As he took stock of the situation he noticed the water was about four inches deep. This really didn’t worry George that much, he could just get out of the boat and drag it off the little sand bar and away he would go. So with this in mind he took off his shoes and socks, and jumped over the side into the water. George was surprised to find the water rather warm. He went around to the bow to unravel a bit of anchor rope and get this adventure back on track.
It turned out dragging a twenty-foot boat grounded into sand was not going to be the piece of cake George thought. He uncoiled about ten feet of rope from the bow and pulled the rope that was at about a forty-five degree angle. All this tugging accomplished it appeared, was to dig the hull deeper into the sand. In fact he couldn’t make it budge. As he stood in the warm water in the glorious sunshine he wasn’t really too worried since he still had a few hours to get to work. George took off his shirt and pants, threw them into the boat, and in his underwear surveyed the situation from outside the boat. He decided to try and find out how large this sandbar really was, so he started walking away from the boat. After splashing merrily along for a few minutes, two things struck him simultaneously, this was a very large sandbar, and the boat was getting hard to see through the mist. The thought of losing sight of the boat made his heart sort of skip a beat and he hurriedly returned to the safety of his boat.
George now realized he was going to be here for bit of time, so he decided to lie on the deck and get some sunshine while he tried to figure out his next move. His reasoning went like this; if the tide was coming in, he would be afloat before too long. If the tide was going out, even to him that would be self-evident. In any event he wasn’t going to dwell on any negative thoughts.
As he lay there with his eyes closed every now and then George thought the craft would move a bit, he would look over the side but everything appeared the same. After enjoying the quiet and sunshine for about a half hour, a disturbing thought struck George. What if the tide was coming in, but just keeping the boat at the same level as it moved them closer to shore, wherever that was.
With this disturbing thought going through his mind George decided to use the whole hundred feet of rope do try and drag the boat out to deeper water. Being further out would lessen the angle from the bow to the water, and hopefully let him get out to deeper water. Before he entered the water he decided to take off his shorts, as he didn’t want them wet when he got to work. So now naked he began uncoiling the rope to its entire length. While he worked away he noticed little waves pushing the craft to the east, he now figured the tide was rising, so he was on the right track. When he had finished uncoiling the entire one hundred feet, the boat looked a long way back as he strained with all his might to get it moving. He was leaning forward at about a forty degree angle, looking straight down at the water, concentrating on one thing, get the stupid boat moving. For a few moments it looked hopeless, but then he felt the slightest movement, and with his head almost touching the water, he strained even harder. George kept the pressure on the rope, and the ship slowly followed him, like a dog on a leash.
George realized this might be a rather long trek, so with head down and back straining he staggered along, but at least he was encouraged as he heard the departing aircraft going over head, meaning he was close to his destination.

He went along for some time like this, head down, straining back, and imperceptibly at first, but then he realized the strain was getting noticeably less. At the same instant he noticed the water was almost to his knees. As the depth of the water increased the fog simply melted away, and George full of hope decided to take a quick glance ahead at the endless expanse of water.
As George looked up he was dumfounded to see a very large Japanese cargo ship steaming along not more than three hundred yards from him.
It was probably a tossup as to who was shocked the most, George, or the crewmembers leaning against the railings of their ship. Imagine their shock beginning a long journey, out of sight of land, suddenly out of the mist, a very white, naked man, walking on or in the water, pulling a boat behind? It was at this time he noticed the Pacific Western Airlines, Convair 540, banking rather steeply right overhead, he could almost make out the faces of the crew and passengers, as it flew by.

So he waved.

And he waved to the men on the Cargo Ship.

And they waved back

At this time at the Vancouver ACC the following dialog was taking place.
“Departure, PW 323 is with you.”
“Pacific western 323 Departure, radar identified, climb runway heading to twenty-five hundred, then left direct the VOR, climb on course”
“Roger, twenty-five hundred, left on course, PW 323.”
“Roger”
About one minute goes by.
“Uh, Departure PW 323.”
“323 Go”
“Yeah, Departure we’re going to level off here for a moment, something strange on the water.”
“That’s approved 323, let me know the situation.”
“Will Do.”
About another minute goes by.
“Departure 323.”
“Go, 323.”
Laughing “You won’t believe it Departure, there is a real life African Queen drama going on down there. Some guy, miles from shore, is walking in shallow water pulling a cabin cruiser behind him. And you won’t believe this; there is a very large freighter that looks like it is about to run him over. Oh, and now he is waving at us – he looks happy, and the crew on the freighter appear to be waving at him – oh and by the way he is starker’s. We are now continuing the climb on course.”

Dave the Departure controller turned to the Arrival controller Al, and told him the story.
They both laughed then Al said “Sounds like it might be that idiot George trying out his new lemon.” They both laughed and continued working.

Epilogue:
The rest of George’s day went relatively smooth. He went over his head in the water as he was waving to his friends. He finally got back to the dock after making bigger waves on the way into his berth. The friendly fishermen did not wave. No they did one better, several of them met him, and helped him tie up as he bumped into the dock.
They actually were not very pleased with him as it turned out. With clenched fists these very healthy fellows explained in very plain language the trouble he had caused them. As George was apologizing and explaining his predicament one of the biggest fellows cut off his explanation.
“Aren’t you number nine who plays for the North Delta hockey team?”
“Well yes, why do you ask?”
“I’m from North Delta and go to all the Games at the Army Base in Ladner, you are my favorite player.”
So things went swimmingly from there on.
Except for being an hour late for work.

And trying to explain it wasn’t him out there pulling that Boat.

THE PHOTO AT THE BEGINNING OF THIS BLOG WILL MAKE MORE SENSE NOW ( I HOPE)