As Luck Would Have It

It was a sunny Thursday.

I was working just north of Oakville when I got the call.

My Mother was being rushed to a Trauma Center in a nearby city. An aneurysm in her abdomen had burst. At least a 9.7 on the scale of the worst phone call you could get.

As luck would have it, I was only five minutes from my car.

Ma was born into a farm family, in the middle of the 1930's. As one of twelve children, they all had to take care of something on the farm. When Grandpa went into the Army, everyone had more to take care of. As luck would have have it, the family farm was near Camp 20 in Brantford where Grandpa served as an M.P. The eldest children took care of the farm, the younger ones took care of the even younger ones.

As luck would have it, Ma was near the middle of the pack and took care of her younger siblings.

In those days, it was quite normal for women to marry in their teens and start families of their own. As luck would have it, Ma had children of her own to look after by the time she was in her late teens.

That was her job, to look after people. As luck would have it, she was pretty good at it.

She was a stay at home mom before that was an option. I'm the youngest of the gang, and she never worked outside the home until I was in school. Even then, she made sure that there was a lunch ready for me when she couldn't be there.

As luck would have it, somewhere near that time, a friend who's husband was terminally ill needed help. They had no children to look after them, so Ma did. That's what she did. She held her friends hand while her husband died. Many years later she held her friends hand while she died. That's what she did.

Ma was not without health issues over the years. In the 1970's, she underwent a series of surgeries. One of the few things Pa never did master was cooking. In an emergency he could fry plain hamburger and some potatoes, or pork chops and french fries. So Ma made a series of meals, labeled them and put them in the freezer for emergencies. Even when she was sick, she took care of us. That's what she did.

As we got older and had children of our own, Ma wouldn't hear of daycare for her grandchildren. Or her great-grandchildren. She would take care of them, that's what she did. As luck would have it, we kept her well supplied with people to take care of.

A few years ago, as Pa's health started to fail, there was talk of putting him into some kind of extended care. Ma would have none of that. She would take care of him as long as she could.

That's what she did.

That's what she was doing on that sunny Thursday when she collapsed on the living room floor. She managed to get out a phone call for help. As luck would have it, my Sister was nearby and got there in time.

As luck would have it, an ambulance was literally around the corner and able to respond. As she was being wheeled out she asked for someone to call for help for Pa. She had to make sure he was taken care of.

That's what she did.

As luck would have it, my nephew worked nearby and could stay with Pa until the nurse got there.

As luck would have it, I beat the ambulance to the Trauma Center. I commented to her that there were other ways out of the family picnic slated for that weekend. She laughed. A good sign.

As luck would have it, the on-call Vascular Surgeon is the Professor for such things at McMaster Medical School. The surgery went well and quicker than expected. She had lost a lot of blood, and her kidneys, liver and pancreas had been blood starved for some time.

As luck would have it, the whole family was in the area for the picnic. A rare occasion as my one Sister lives in California and my one Brother travels a lot for business.

As luck would have it, her mind was damaged by lack of blood flow and her kidneys didn't respond to treatment. She never regained consciousness and never knew what was going on around her. She hung on long enough for everyone to say goodbye. Even as she was leaving us she was making sure we weren't inconvenienced.

She was taking care of us. That's what she did.

She slipped away peacefully.

It was a rainy Saturday.

As luck would have it.

DJ and his Family thank everyone for thier support.
We have a lot of great people around us, as luck would have it.

Waiting Room Etiquette

I've spent a lot of time in a waiting room this past week.

The ICU waiting room at Hamilton General has 54 seats. I've had plenty of time to count them. That's roughly one per bed. ICU visiting hours are 24/7 there, understandably. With only two family visitors at a time, 54 seems like a reasonable amount.

They also recommend that one family member act as a spokesperson, and wrangle who comes when to keep traffic down and allow them time to give treatment.

This also seems reasonable.

Now, I am also well aware that everyone who is in there has a loved one in critical condition, we all do. And they all want to be there to show support.

Completely understandable.

I am very thankful for the support I've had.

But...

...support can go overboard.

This weekend, there were two families that commandeered the waiting room beyond belief. One family went and bought bags upon bags of groceries and set up a complete Deli on one of the coffee tables. Another family had what seemed like a catered affair with pans of lasagna, cannelloni, garlic bread and salads. All that was missing was the wine and the music and we could have had a wedding.

We ended up in the hall.

By we I mean three of us. It was my Brothers turn to visit. We gave up our seats so that they had somewhere to put the salad bar.

Ferchristsakes, it's the frigging waiting room! I did a mental calculation; if all the people at the Italian wedding went in, two by two, for twenty minutes each, it would've taken six and a half hours for them all to go through.

Un-friggin-believable and im-friggin-possible!

We all have loved ones in distress, and we all want our turn, but for crying out loud have a little courtesy and compassion.

DJW

DJ and his family thank everyone for their continued support.

The Real Reason Why Men Don't Read Directions.

Ladies, if you've ever wondered why men don't read instructions, there are very good reasons for it.

Below are the instructions for a battery I picked up recently (yes, for a battery)...

Then of course, there is the actual manual:



Nuff said.

DJW

DJ did not follow the instructions to post this blog.

Some Lessons Learned

Its been a while folks.

Silly season round here.

Parades, meetings, spring cleaning and planting, yard work (some left over from last year, and the year before)

And then there's the roof.

Looming overhead.

Whats been holding my house together for 130 years.

I'm proud to say that work has begun. Some remedial repairs have been made, and some demolition and new construction has been completed.

The main part of Our Humble Castle was built in 1881 with 1881 construction methods. Post and timber framing, with pegged joints and a plank roof. An addition to the rear around 1910 added 300 square feet and a small valley to the roof profile. Methods and materials didn't seem to change much over those 30 odd years.

Fast forward to the late 1980's, when the previous owners decided to replace the roof. Instead of tearing off the three layers of shingles on the back, they decided to build a whole new roof over the existing one, taking out the valley. They did not cut back the old roof, they simply made the fascia extra wide. This produced a gap of roughly 7 inches in the middle of the valley. This is what I am now correcting.

So I have to peel off plywood fascia, and expose the old roof. Then cut it back flush, put up some extra bracing and attach new 1' x 6" fascia boards ready for cover.

Sounds easy, right?

Wrong.

You'd figure that an industrial r-saw with "demolition blades" (I got a capital Y chromosome just buying them) would go through 100+ year old planks like a hot knife through butter.

Not so.

The 1" thick planks and flat iron nails chewed these blades up like popcorn. I had to change blades every 5 minutes and soak them in kerosene to clean and cool them. The soaking also cleaned the asphalt that was clogging the teeth.

Then the genius that did the work before, hadn't properly braced the overhang, only providing support every four feet where joints occurred. So someone has to install them.

130 year old plank roof.

So, as with every project I get involved with, there was much more work than I had figured.

In the end, 25 feet of demolition and and remedial construction took me roughly 18 hours over two days.

Lessons?

That 130 years ago, things were built to last. I wonder how many of the new 'manufactured' homes will be around 130 years from now.

That you will need twice as many 'demolition blades' as you figure.

That 130 year old planks, while tough to cut, make excellent coals for cooking bratwurst.

DJW

Somewhere, the men that built this house are laughing at DJ.

When I am King... (repost)

With the events surrounding the death of Victoria Stafford, I felt it was appropriate to revisit this post.

I am seeking the position of King of the World.

I am aware I can’t just declare myself such as Leo DiCaprio did in Titanic. So I’ll have to convince you all I deserve the job. I have developed a platform of ideas I hope to implement as The Monarch of Earth.

I have outlined some of the concepts below.

Ahem… When I am King…

…Stupidity will be a punishable crime. Yes, those who are volunteer idiots will be held accountable for their acts. Those who video it and show it on You Tube or Worlds Most Amazing Home Videos will be held as accomplices. No one needs to see another sk8r boi get a handrail in the berries, or Evel Knievel wannabe’s dumping their bikes.

When I am Tsar of the Planet…

…Baffin Island will be a penal colony. For those who drain our system and will forever be a burden on society, there they can roam freely, from shore to shore to shore to frozen shore, feeding off each other. This, of course, is only for the worst offenders; three time losers and child molesters and the like. Also for those who have been convicted of six or more counts of Felony Stupidity. If you make it back to the mainland, you may go free. Child Molesters will have their arms severed before sentencing.

When I am The Baron of the Orb…

…Gas prices will be directly linked to the price of a barrel of oil. Pretty simple concept; and a rate of 1% for regular would be fair I think. $100 a barrel equals $1.00 a liter.

When I am Prince of the Globe…

…Bad drivers will be punished on the spot. The Honda-maniacs and Beemer Bozos who cause those daily rear enders that delay us regular people will be forced to stand under one of those portable flashy sign boards as it alternates between “ I APOLOGIZE FOR MAKING YOU LATE” and “I AM AN IDIOT”. Oh, and they have to hand out free Timmies while waiting for the tow truck and the paperwork. Doing this will take the place of one Misdemeanor Stupidity conviction.

Further, all drivers who have never been convicted of a Rolling Stupidity will be issued paint ball guns with florescent pink ammo. When they see a Stupidity - in - progress, they are allowed to fire one shot. When the offender collects three or more blots, Police have the authority to pull the offender over and give him (or her, lets not discriminate) a summons for being an a**hole.

When I am The Czar of the Cosmos…

…Drivers Ed will be a mandatory High School course. And will be given in Grade12 only. Thus two problems will be solved: teen accident stats and the drop out rate will both drop. No diploma? No license. Courses offered outside of school will be a mandatory $5000.00.

When I am The Grand Poobah…

…Car Insurance would go back to at fault. If you hit me, your insurance pays, and my rates don’t get touched. I did nothing wrong, why should I have to pay?

When I am Sultan of The Solar System…

…Loaves of bread will have an even number of slices. Further, peanut butter and jam jars will be no deeper than 1.25 inches less than the length of the average kitchen knife.

When I am Nabob of The Sphere…

…Hate Criminals and Identified Bigots will be reformed. All those convicted or even accused of any form of racial or religious discrimination will be ushered into a facility like the Skydome, and be forced to watch as dozens of four and five – year – olds of all races and religions play on the playground below.
There will be puppies and kittens too.
Kids don’t hate, that’s a learned behavior.
Only when the offenders are a blubbering mass may they be released.

When I am The Supreme Ruler of all The Lands and Seas…

…Spy satellites will be used for drug control. This sophisticated technology will stop reading license plates and intruding on sheep farmer’s private moments and be trained on the poppy and cocaine crops. The Air Force will then Napalm the crops and keep doing so until the world’s supply of heroin and crack is nothing more than a memory. The trickle down of this will run a spectrum from reducing terrorism to pruning petty street crimes.

When I am the Kaiser of Terra Firma…

…Unions will be outlawed. Where is it fair that a guy with no education deserves $75k a year to put wheels on cars in a factory, yet a Graduate Teacher can’t get a job because of double dippers, and a married Soldier with two kids’ lives at the poverty line.

When I am The Emperor of this Macrocosm…

…There shall be bunnies. And they shall frolic every morn while birds chirp in the distance. Oh, and dogs would only poop in their own yards.

Feel free to give me more concepts to implement during my reign as Overlord of All.

Thank you for your support.

DJW

Happy Birthday to Me!

As my birthday looms like a North Atlantic iceberg in early spring, I am not in much of a celebratory mood. This is not a milestone year coming, nor am I suffering from a middle age crisis. I have aches and pains but nothing I can't work around.

I am coming to grips with mortality.

You see, twenty - odd years ago I was immortal.

We all were.

Worked all day, partied till dawn, slept for 10 minutes and did it all over again. And as if driving the ammo truck for an Artillery Regiment wasn't enough, I tried my hand at Stock Car racing for a little more rush.

I imagine that sixty - odd years ago my Father was immortal.

An accomplished musician at young age, he was a mentor to the great Johnny Mooring.

The War got him of out of the coal mines of Springhill, Nova Scotia, but only as far as Sussex, New Brunswick. After he served in the Army as a mechanic, he likes to tell the story of how he built an Indian Motorcycle with 'spare parts' and rode it to Ontario. Of course after six decades we can all admit they were stolen parts.

He quickly found work as a mechanic. Now lets remember that he was a mechanic when they were more than 'technicians'. He was a welder, hydraulic specialist, pipe fitter, electrician, painter and more. He even taught night school until they found out he dropped out in Grade Nine. His skills led him to many opportunities, including a chance to go to South America to help set up a factory and train the workers. This he turned down because it would take him away from his family for six months or more.

His love and talent for music also soon found him in a band. This led to a regular Saturday Evening Radio gig with his band, The Nova Scotia Ramblers. (a strange foretelling as he would later work for Rambler and A.M.C.) It was on the radio that he proposed to my mother by dedicating a song for her, a tune called "Flop Eared Mule". ( I would later steal his idea to propose to M.D.B., but that's another story.)

His musical talents were legend, and earned him a spot on The Ted Mack Amateur Hour in New York City in 1959, a pre-pre-precursor to American Idol. He won trophies at the Canadian Old Time Fiddle Championships for his novelty fiddling; playing behind his back, head, holding the bow with his knees and many other contorted, impossible positions. During a weekend trip to see the Grand Ole Opry, there are pictures of him sitting around the hotel pool, jamming with the stars of Hee Haw. Their offer of a spot in the show's band was turned down because music wasn't a stable income for a man with a family.

His accidental un-quest for immortality led him to one other thing, he gave me his name. This is not uncommon, you may say, except that it is an uncommon combination of names. Most of us have 'Googled' our own names to see if there are others out there. Lorraine Sommerfeld called it 'Googleganging.' Try it and see how many you can come up with.

A search for my first name comes back with over 124,000 hits. My surname, 179,000. Put the two together?

It comes back to two people. Just the two of us. In all of the internet.

A very exclusive club in which I have been Vice President for almost 44 years.

The other night I visited the old man, and it made me sad to think that the man he was lives in him still, and wonder what it must be like to live with his memories.

I'll be the President someday, but its not a job I necessarily want.

The President in his heyday

DJW

the music that played on the wind

Thank Goodness for Unlimited Packages! UPDATED!

Thing One had her cell stolen while she was away in Kingston for the summer. Idiot that stole it ran the usage up to 172 pages before I could get it canceled. The unlimited package really paid for itself! DJW

I both sympathize and cheer for a Wyoming Dad who took a hammer to his 13 year old daughter's cell phone after she rang up a nearly $5000.00 bill, mostly by text messaging.

Many parents have given their teens cellphones. Thing One and Thing Two, our teenage daughters have had them for quite a few years. Initially paid for by Mommy and Daddy.

Other parents call parents like us crazy, but try to follow us around for a few weeks and you'll know why our kids have these units.

A number of years ago, Thing One made some transgression that suspended her internet privileges for a time. She discovered that she could access the internet from her cell, not knowing that it was $50 a megabyte and not knowing that Daddy would flip. Subsequently, she lost her cell until she paid the bill off.

Late last year, Thing Two got a new boyfriend, and discovered texting. She didn't have a text plan. The ensuing 44 page invoice caused yet another blood pressure record, and suspension of privileges until payment.

Earlier this year, we renewed our contract, we all got shiny new phones with cameras, and most of us got QWERTY keypads. This time though, Mommy and Daddy would pay for the basic service, and the Sisters Thing would have to pay the extra for the enhanced, unlimited plans, which ring up at about $20 per month each. As they both have part time jobs, this was no problem for them.

We got our new units just before Thing One embarked on a nearly 2 week journey to Halifax, including 30 hours on a train each way. It was great to get updates on her progress, and pic's from crossings at places like Miramachi and Sackville. We kept in touch with her and she with all by text and picture from across the country, a marvel of modern communication.

Long ago we switched to electronic billing.

Our Letter Carrier should thank us, because the invoice for the first month of unlimited usage was 144 pdf pages, with Thing One setting the new household record of 88 pages on her own.

I am thankful for unlimited usage packages, and my cell carrier is shaking its head.

I'm betting Wyoming Dad wishes he had gotten an unlimited deal.

DJW

DJ has two daughters with very strong thumbs.