There was a column in the Times last week that reported a study had established that the happiest people were aged 82. As an 82 year old, I am putting my year in review.
I’m told a recent study, and hope that this is true,
Says that you are happiest when you are 82.
A valuable conclusion I am happy to engage,
Based upon the circumstance that is my current age.
My birthday’s in September, March is nearly here
I hope I have not wasted half this clearly special year.
As I review those recent months, since 82 begun
I realise I misconstrued some things that were fun.
Those strange and achy feelings I have in both my knees
Are really for the fun of it, a kind of cosmic tease.
I’m woken up each morning by my wife who says to me
Its time to put the kettle on to make your cup of tea
I make my tea and drink it, get out of bed and then
Stagger to the bathroom for acetaminophen
I cannot take an aspirin for any of my ills
It is contraindicated by one of my other pills
If that does not relieve for me the pain my knees are in
I find the other package, and then spread on Voltaren.
I haven’t had my breakfast yet, so I still have the time
For happiness to show up and celebrate in rhyme.
Morning spreads before me, I eat my toast and jam
And hurry to remind myself how happy now I am.
I turn on my computer so I can read the mail
Hoping that this morning the wi-fi will not fail.
I down load a newspaper so I can read the news
And then print the crossword, so we can solve the clues.
And so the day progresses, does happiness await?
This early in the morning its very hard to state.
If 82 brings happiness and I am having fun
I must have been quite miserable when I was 81.
But patience, we’re but half way through and if I remember
I’ll tell you how the rest has gone, when we reach September.
I was sitting in the steam room
The heat was at its peak
When through the heat and moisture
I heard somebody speak.
How are you this afternoon?
Had a busy day?
Got your exercising done
Before you go away?
Do you enjoy retirement?
Is it something you’ve enjoyed
Or is it true as some folks say
You’d rather be employed.
I found it rather puzzling
This chatting in the fog
But still I felt impelled to
Make this a dialogue.
I wasn’t here on Tuesday
Or Saturday I said
The weather was so awful
I quit and stayed in bed
I do like the new treadmill
So I can watch the news
While pounding out the distance
In my running shoes
Do you get here often
Or only when by chance
Your personal ambitions
Include the fitness dance.
I hear the room door open
I am relieved because
He left me without saying
Who the heck he was
You may recall I wrote a rhyme
Not so long ago in time.
In which I said I’d had a brush
At fixing up the upstairs flush.
I also said in that last verse
All I did was make it worse.
My wife then offered sage advice
Do not try to fix it twice.
I don’t believe you’d be a master
More likely you’d create disaster.
She said she thought that I should go
And hire a plumber, use a pro.
So of course I thought it nice
To accept my wife’s advice.
This very day with bold defiance
One replaced the old appliance.
Task completed then my bride
Turned the handle, flushed with pride.
We’ve had an interesting time for this past week or three
The heating was not working as its supposed to be
We had to bring a plumber in to find out what was wrong
And fix it so it heated up and stayed warm all day long.
I watched the guy while working, and I was quite impressed
As he had to change some of the things, and then left the rest
Now this of course involved electric power a special kind of threat
To amateurs who, fix things that are not trained as yet.
But I had a problem of plumbing yet to do
To find the right solution to the upstairs flushing loo.
No electricity involved, not difficult to see
The problem should be solvable by amateurs like me.
Each time you flushed the thing the water kept on flowing
Long after that the tank was filled it just kept on going.
I told the plumber all the symptoms I’d seen
And asked him for suggestions as to what it might have been
He said its very likely that you need a brand new flapper
To stop the water flowing when the tanks full in the crapper.
So I bought a brand new flap valve and installed it with great care
Following instructions that the package had to share.
I flushed, the water filled the tank it, I made triumphant cry
But when I tried it out again, I found the tank was dry.
Faced with this frustration just one way now remains
To get the upstairs loo to flush, turn on and off the mains.
My wife said will you never learn at fixing you’re a bummer
It really makes a lot more sense just to phone the plumber
There have been recent allegations that I am in many ways an incompetent klutz, unable to undertake successfully the simplest of household repairs. Despite being one of the authors of these allegations, I am pleased to offer a categorical refutation based on recent successes with my trousers.
During the winter I prefer to wear cordoroy pants as they keep my legs warmer, and they are also washable, and do not show much innate grubbiness. I also use a belt, instead of suspenders to prevent the collapse of the aforesaid trousers down to my ankles.
I was very bored with having to frequently replace these belts, when the holes became enlarged and resulted in breakage, I was also annoyed by periodically having to create new holes. I was therefore delighted to see in my favourite Canadian Tire Store a new design of belt, that did not have holes, but ridges that were caught by the buckle structure, making the infinitely adjustable. Unfortunately the teeth on the buckle stop catching on the belt after a while as the end of the belt gets fatigued. This results in the buckle, and sometimes the trousers, falling off. In a stroke of genius I cut off half an inch of belt to get the grip back, it worked brilliantly. The only snag is that I will have to reduce my waist by half an inch every time the problem returns.
You may say, that the button at the top of the trouser fly would prevent the collapse of leg protection and public indecency. Unfortunately the button holding the top together is made of metal, and has worn out both the button hole and the cloth beyond it. Another disaster, calling for another stroke of genius. I bought some upholstery thread, and stitched back and forth where the end of the button hole would be, so I now have a new hole for the button. After four days it is still holding.
I am not a klutz, but a sane practical genius.
I spoke too soon, I went out in the car to go skiing, and when I arrived at my destination I discovered that I had left the boots at home. I went home, put on the boots, and tried again. I found that I had my wife’s skis, and not mine. I came home to make dinner and realised the slow cooking was because the pan was on the wrong burner. Clearly my pride led to my fall.
It’s a very pretty picture of the women in my life
All three of my daughters and of course mycharming wife.
The picture’s not a recent one, its from 1973
All of them much older now, the same applies to me.
Back in those days I wondered what the future years would hold
But now I have some memories and stories to be told.
My wife just starting studying down the road at UNB
On route to completion of a fine PhD.
And then as a professor, a career in something new
For eighteen years distinguished in her role at STU.
Oldest daughter Judy is an athlete all the way
I hate to think how far she’s running every day
She’s working for a sports store, and training on and on
Preparing to be running yet another marathon.
Her children, both grown up now in a life they have enjoyed
And thankfully the pair of them are happily employed.
Middle daughter Robin, an entrepreneur at heart
Practises successfully the photographic art,
Many thousand pictures her cameras have exposed
In developing reputation of her company Unposed.
Susan is the youngest one, one son is still in school
He’ll soon be like his brother at uni, that’s the rule
Susan’s a computer geek, coding well and oft.
Now she’s independent, but she was with for Microsoft.
She also is a runner, going on and on
And joins her oldest sister in the Boston marathon
As for me its 26 long years since I left my employ
And now in recreation my hours I can enjoy.
I used to be a runner as my daughters like
But now my knees have let me down, I only ride a bike.
Is there a little table right beside your bed,
And to see what’s on it, do you simply turn your head?
A place to store necessities you might need in the night
Carefully located so you do not need a light.
I have one by my bedside with everything I need
I’ll tell you all about it, and bring you up to speed.
A radio to turn on early in the day
To tell me what the weather’s like and what the news will say
A big electric jug like thing I turn on as I wake
A vital component for my cup of tea to make.
Assorted little bottles with assorted little pills
I’m taking night and morning for treating all my ills
Some are by prescription not all of them but then
I keep a handy bottle of acetominophen
And then there’s melatonin I also tend to keep
Since someone once told me it would help me get to sleep.
I even keep some tissues handy I can seize
If I have a sudden urge to loose an awesome sneeze.
An ideal situation, how could I ask for more
Until I knock a bottle off and spread pills on the floor.
But onwe more experience can be never spurned
If The jug is turned on we now both have learned
When my wife turns her heater on disaster will ensue
We’ll be plunged in cold and darkness , circuit breaker blew
Oldest daughter and her husband
Are in Thailand as I speak
They went there before Christmas
And will stay another week.
The curse of social media
Is exposed in every way
As they send us 50 photos
On Facebook every day
From the temples or the beaches
From the tables where they eat
As the monkeys steal there smoothies
Their enjoyment is complete
Mean while in New Brunswick
The snow and sleet come down
Its enough to make a parent
Inclined to show a frown.
Of course we`re glad our children
Can have three weeks of fun
But must they send us pictures
To show what they have done.
On returning from Christmas in Ottawa with the children, I happened to go into the boiler room, and noticed that we too had plumbing problems. Underneath the electric furnace there was a black mess, and on top of it you could see where the safety valve had blown off and made another mess. The only sensible thing to do was to call a plumber. It was a Saturday, and we still had some heat so I asked for a plumber to come on Monday. The guy who was meant to come on Monday never made it as his previous call took all day. He did however, arrive first thing on Tuesday morning. He was obviously not new to his job. I later established that he had been doing it since 1990.
I was an interested spectator as he set about establishing the problem. Systematic, unhurried and organised to the nth degree. He was not one of those plumbers who has to go back for more tools, he had a backpack full of rolls of tools that he undid and spread on the floor so that he could find the one he needed. He faced a series of problems as could be expected relating to a 30 + year appliance, with screws that were rusted in and joints that were reluctant to be undone, requiring wrenches with additional pipes for leverage. The initial problem solved, he discovered that the system would only work in mild cold mode, as the two elements used for the cold mode were not operating and needed replacement. He said he would be back in a few days with new elements and install them. In the meantime, the heating that we had was operating after a fashion and the weather was not too cold so we survived.
It was Friday when he returned, clutching two new elements in his hands as well all the other stuff. The problem he said would be the removal of the old elements. All went smoothly to start with and first of the elements came out readily when he unscrewed it, and it was replaced with no difficulty. The second element was a different kettle of fish. The elements are about two feet long, and reverse a couple of times inside the boiler . They are inserted through a one inch diameter hole, and they are a tight fit. In this case there was a break in the element and part of it had bent, so it did not want to come out through the 1 inch diameter hole. About 40 minutes of probing and indeed hacksawing the element finally go the element removed , and the new one was inserted. Throughout this process the plumber continued steadily along and I did not hear a single curse escape him in the overall total of five hours that I watched him at work. Occasionally I was asked to fetch something or to adjust one of the thermostats, but mostly I just sat there, admiring the patience and application of craftsman. I actually found the whole process remarkably relaxing and enjoyed it.
I am not sure I will enjoy the bill when it arrives, but at least the house can be warmed up again.
It seems desirable to begin the new decade with tongue in cheek, I hope the reader enjoys this piece of foolishness
Many visitors to New Brunswick are exposed for the first time to the product of one of the world’s most remarkable and valuable creatures, the dulse. This brief account of the biology and history of this fascinating denizen of the Bay of Fundy will perhaps help them to understand it better.
In the late ice ages, the Fundy Tidal range was even greater than it is today, so that at Spring Tides with a southerly wind, it was not unusual for the tide to rise vertically more than 100 feet. The precursor of the modern porcupine would often be found on the Fundy beaches in pursuit of fiddleheads their natural prey, washed up on the shore. Not infrequently the speed of the rise in the tide would catch the porcupine unawares, and they would, in consequence, drown. Inevitably, a few survived the experience, and discovered that swimming was a possible art, and one that would improve their access to their preferred prey as they could catch them as they curled up from sea bed, rather than waiting for the tides and waves to break them loose from their footing.
As the population adapted through a normal evolutionary process, to the marine environment, two modes of behaviour developed. The lazy population tended to sit on the sea floor, and wait until a passing fiddlehead impaled itself on their spines, and then ingested the decaying weed. This line ultimately lost even vestigial traces of its limbs, and is of course the ancestor of the spiny sea urchin that is often found washed up on the shore. The more vigorous strain set out in active pursuit of the fiddlehead, and found that its spiny character was a hydrodynamic hindrance, as well as an unsatisfactory camouflage. In time the spines evolved naturally into a seaweed resembling substance, which, when dried, is the dulse we are all familiar with.
The aboriginal peoples of New Brunswick recognised early the beneficial nutritious qualities of the dulse fur, and at first hunted them with hooks baited with imitation fiddleheads. As they were conservation minded, they soon realised that the animal was capable of regrowing its fur, so they would simply cut the hair off and return them to the sea. One thing lead to another, and they discovered that by feeding the dulse regularly they could attract them to a particular spot, lure them ashore, shear them and set them free. Over time the beast adapted equally well to the benefit of interacting with man to supplement its food supplies, and as early as the third century B.C. is believed to have been trained as a herring herder, a custom that has continued to comparatively recently, when they were used to drive sardines down ever narrower channels into the cans at the Connors Brothers plant at Black’s Harbour. Unfortunately this practise had to be discontinued because of concerns raised by animal rights activists, as to trauma suffered by the juvenile herring. They have however become an extremely useful ally to the aquaculturists, who routinely use guard dulse to protect their salmon cages from seals and other predators.
Like many other sea creatures they have always been attracted by music, and they are popular additional listeners to any concert held close to the Fundy shore, as their little blackish green heads pop up and down in time to the rhythms. Early German settlers on Grand Manan were so impressed with their reaction to Vivaldi played on the clavichord, that they renamed the instrument in their honour as the Dulse always, or dulcimer in their native tongue, and who is not familiar with the carol “In Dulse Jubilo” (in dulse we rejoice) written to commemorate this event. It is small wonder that Grand Manan is still the centre of the New Brunswick Dulse Industry.
They have also had a considerable impact on Canadian History. When Samuel de Champlain overwintered on St Croix Island in 1604 the supply of food available to him and his party was tenuous, and undernourishing, as well as lacking several vital nutrients and minerals. Some of the aboriginal peoples, observing the killing of a dulse by one member of the party, unaware of the toxic nature of its flesh, as opposed to the nourishing nature of it fur, succeeded in communicating the real value of the harmless creature to Champlain, who subsequently took full advantage of the bountiful population of dulse in the vicinity, and thus survived that cruel winter to go on to higher things.
Very little is known about the breeding habits of the dulse, but it has been noted that they are rarely seen before they are at their full size, with a length of between 35 and 55 centimetres, and a weight of around 3 kilograms. Attempts to breed, or even keep dulse in captivity have all been completely unsuccessful, as they shed their fur and do not regenerate it, and appear to die of hypothermia. Post mortem examination has revealed no conventional form of sex organ, or any differentiation between male and female, if in fact they do have two sexes. Scientists have speculated that they may have developed a method of propagation more related to that of the oyster, which changes sex on an annual basis, or the earthworm, which is sexually self centred. The discovery in the great intestine of a harbour seal, of something that resembled a small dulse has given rise to the theory that the juvenile may live out the first part of its existence in an intermediate host, but most dismiss this as idle speculation.
Looking to indigenous legends as a possible source of guidance, one finds tales among the Malicete of a black sea creature that dances in the moonlight with the lobster, and there have been several reported sightings of the embrace of a dulse and a lobster, but these seem to be readily ascribed to the omnivorous eating habits of the lobster, coming across a piece of carrion, and descriptions of the dulse dancing away and singing should be ascribed to the observers proximity to a rum bottle.
Dulse shearing festivals are common throughout the Fundy Region, and are normally typified by a meal of dulse, followed by dancing and the recounting of the ancient folk tales about this unique creature. The participation of the whole population in the feasting at these festivals has actually introduced another word into the English Language, as the term a “Shearing” was used for these events, and became the generic term for a group dividing up a food supply, the word in turn became misspelled as sharing as it came into broader usage away from the dulse grounds. Many people talk of Bulls and Bears in the Stockmarket, but few are aware that the name of the very shares being traded can be traced back to this remarkable New Brunswick Creature, the Dulse.
muffinandbagels 