TubaOrNotTuba

For many years our household included a dog who suffered. With an ailment in textbook terms known as separation anxiety. Hard to control because this is an synonym for stress. In several days we will go on a short road trip and now I realized that I also have stress. Related to my inability to know where I am while on the road. All those signs indicating community and distance are lossed to me. Hence I will take my place as a passenger and wait for the purgatory to end. Our rationale for the road trip is solid. We are going to meet some new family members. And help out at a community event. Apparently my presence is required. So be it. I fully realise that I am not allowed to withdraw from life even when I do not know where I am. We’re doing our best. We will have a vehicle with beds and the refrigerator and adequate toilet facilities. Where we will park is just a detail. It was mentioned that we could find a place near the airport and all that will come to my mind was whether or not I would hear the the jets as they came and went. No need to see them when I can hear them. As for meals like at home that is also something that for me has become a detail. Between departure and return I will tell myself that this is all for the good and I will await the return to my comfort zone. I wonder if I get a shirt that will indicate to others that I am just more stressed than usual. Take it as part of my life. Like the dog used to do.

The economy globally is based upon people being paid for the work they do. In order to make things work smoothly most of us agree to accept currency that is issued by the state. However barter is out there and my artist payment my whole life was one afternoon when I painted a boat and was paid with a siren. I will try to recall the details. The boat was large enough to be able to carry passengers and have them sleep on board. The paint for something that we called copper bottom. Probably rather toxic but at the time it was seen as a way to keep a boat in the water free of pests. And so I showed up at the Marina I was handed a paintbrush. I had already painted boats. If anything I was a trained professional after one summer. And so I took the job at hand and I completed it before dark. I am unsure at what point we decided that the correct payment would be an old fire siren removed from a truck about 30 years before. I was enjoying it. But here is the detail that you forget. A siren is loud. And it tends to attract a lot of attention. In a boatyard not so much, back in the university residence it was too loud to hide. On the few times that I demonstrated the siren it received much more attention then I had considered. Remember. Loud. I haven’t seen this the siren for many decades. It might be in the basement at a friend’s house. And I’m sure that he also figured out that this was the kind of prize you could not hide unless you hid it. Unlike money which is simply spent, an old siren the size of a football is out of place. Always.

Having one of those blurry days. For the record any kind of loss of vision is hardly something to wish for. This is not a new and improved version. But I will carry on. Listening to one of my favorite podcasts I became aware of something. I have never seen a professional baseball game. I know. There are thousands of them every year but not where I live and not where I go. A similar thing could be said for football or cricket art pro basketball but I stand my ground I have seen a professional hockey team play and it was not so much a moment as a rite of passage. I will now be able to continue on fully aware that most of what passes for news on the television does not affect me. The same thing for those daily list of numbers that report the trials and tribulations of the markets. To the best of my knowledge I do not own any stocks or bonds or deep investments in things that I do not understand. It does allow me to get through the newspaper more quickly because so many pages have nothing to do with me. Actually I think that only the weather forecast is something that I need to keep on my radar. If I missed the headlines they will be repeated perhaps not today or tomorrow few stories are actually news or new. So I will continue on my trajectory where I will try to get all of the grapes out of the ball beside me and not lose any on to the floor. After all everyone needs a goal. Which reminds me. I have not checked the national news. Perhaps something important has happened and I am just unaware. The story of my life.

Never underestimate the abilities of children to end up in places that they’re not supposed to go. In particular young boys. Long before my 10th birthday I lived in a small town that had an industrial background. There were factories and there were steel foundries and we knew nothing of what went on inside. However at this same point in my life I wanted to build a cart with wheels. One day while out wandering around the grounds of the local foundry my friends and I decided to go inside a storage shed. Unfortunately the door was locked. Fortunately the smallest among us was able to go in through a hole in the wall and open the door. An open door is an invitation to explore and we had a plan. We wanted to find wheels for eventual carts. This building stored the molds used to make pieces in the foundry. Imagine a shape and there was probably one of them in there. We wandered from pile to pile until we finally found something that fit the description of a wheel. Very primitive. Crafted from hardwood by a molder or a pattern keeper. No they were never designed to be used as wheels on a cart but we were young and what did we know. And so we pilfered. I hate to use the word theft because the owner of the factory was never aware of his losses. In fact this one can be called the great pattern pilfer. There, here you have it. We were criminals long before we understood the meaning of the term. Enough time has passed that I have no fear of retribution. As an aside the cart was never completed because wooden mold patterns tend to break and within hours we had four flat tires where there never were tires. If I were to do it again with a lifetime of experience I probably would have chosen a different source for my materials. 

I went to a high school that had a reasonably decent music program. Teachers that cared and an inventory of equipment that even today makes me feel that we had hit a jack pot of sorts. Go ahead. Check on the price of a student trumpet or a student tuba. Still a great deal of money. Anyhow the musical instruments were a shared resource. You did not have your tuba you had access to a tuba. Or a flute or clarinet or what have you. Because these were a shared resource we took care of them. We treated them as if we had paid the price without ever knowing the price. Tricky economics for a 15 year old. At one point on a broadcast on television, a famous trumpet player had appeared with his instrument that had the bell pointed upwards. By Monday morning one of our students had figured out that this would turn him into a great performer. Take it from me the trumpet did not fit back into the carrying case. On another weekend a student decided that his tuba looked a little dirty. And so he did what any 15 year old boy would do. He filled the tub with hot soapy water and took the tuba in for a quick rinse. In those days instruments recovered in a lacquer that made them look better than they sounded. The hot water was not kind to that lacquer. There is no way to hide what you have done when you return to school and your tuba looks like it has developed a camouflage pattern. I really wish I had a photograph because it was timeless. So much so that the music department did not try to have any repair done. The tuba stayed there for years as a reminder to anyone else that some things are best not done. And that includes washing your brass instrument in hot soapy water.

I can remember distinctly the first time I looked into a bird nest. We had a small garage beside the house. Not used for a car but it did have a small ladder going up to the attic if you will. And in this summer after Grade 1 or the spring I guess, I went up that ladder to look at what I knew was a bird nest. An occupied bird nest. I know that this was a nest built by robbins. I expected that the tiny birds inside would be at least as colourful as their parents or their eggs. Total fail. From my perspective few creatures are uglier than a newly hatched bird. All those stories about how birds have descended from dinosaurs are obviously true. There is nothing about a baby bird that inspires hope for the future. Hard to look at and hard to hear. Always hungry and the only good point is that this is just a stage. Within weeks baby birds get their feathers and fall from the nest and take on a new place in the universe. But for a six year old boy this was a revelation. To realize that things come in stages. And that even though puppies and babies are wonderful, fledglings are not. In fact I do not think that I have ever gone again to see inside of a bird nest. Once was enough. That garage building is now gone although I can describe the location precisely. The road beside it has overgrown and the railway tracks are just a memory. Nothing left but the memory. Meanwhile the birds are elsewhere. Generations removed from the moment. I wonder if I have any photographs? No need my memory is vivid and I will allow anyone else who wants to discover that wonder of nature to do it without my assistance. Children and grandchildren have to discover the world on their own terms.

We have more gas. Specifically some propane which will be kept in a cylinder under the floor of the RV. It required a trip to town like so many other things and once we got there the actual fill only took a matter of minutes but then things went a little left. The attendant was unable to charge any of the clients that were already there for their gas. We were told to go home put it down to a modern miracle of technology and come back another day when we needed more. Thus begins the season. In other stories the world has a new Pope. I did not see the smoke but I did hear the speech. This is not the first time that we have had a new Pope. I have actually lost count of how many times a little like most people I can name who was supposed to been the first one and now I can name the latest. I won’t bother because these are jobs that are yours until you die and in some cases that can happen very quickly. What I do note is that the people in charge of things seem to have figured out how to put on a show for thousands and thousands of spectators. No riots. Just cheering and then overpowering sense of well I’m glad that’s done. Imagine if the world was to end without a pope in place. Gotcha. That has never happened. I am left with a question. Since the smoke that is used to signal that a new Pope has been chosen is made from burning the ballots, can you ever do a recount. I guess that is not considered to be an option. If you need, you just do it all over again. After all the facility is available to those who have the rights and I do not think that anyone has to pay for rental or custodial salaries.

I have heard people find it comical when a famous person or a politician has no idea about the price of common things. The disconnect is actually very simple. My wallet has no money in it. I no longer stop by the store to purchase anything. If you ask me what does it cost to buy a jug of milk or a bag of bread I now can say that I have no idea. Certainly I could ask someone else but those values are no longer relevant to my daily situation. In fact if you were to see me drive up to the local store get out and going to buy something you would then have to call in the authorities because an obvious miracle has taken place. And when there are things that you do not need to know anymore your brain will do a very good job of clearing that space out for something else. Yes I believe that memory is quantified. Meanwhile as to the price of things there are people who have to worry about such things but I am no longer among them. It really leaves a great deal of pressure from person. Knowing that you can go into a store and shop and not have to worry about whether or not you have enough money because you probably do not. Right now the economy is in a strange place. Nobody knows how to predict where prices will be even tomorrow. Go ahead, blame it on the government but realistically this is just the supply and demand process. When people no longer have enough money to buy a product I imagine that the prices will be adjusted downwards. And As for a condition where there is no product to put on the store shelves that also will be resolved. Keep your head up everyone because although times seem unstable and uncertain your needs will continue to be met. Somehow.

Like many others I listened to the radio today. A chance to hear part of the dialogue between our country and the neighbor. During an official visit to their house. And one word stood out. Respectfully. The word was punching way above its weight as they like to say. At several moments our Prime Minister had to bring a pause to the ongoing monologue and point out that some of what was being said was a little light on facts. I am sure that it goes with protocol. Not calling out the lies at the moment. I am also sure that the late night pundits will be having a field day with the dialogue from today so many statements that did not measure up to truth. I have no idea what the intention might be behind such effort. Anyhow no war was declared and none of our territory was handed over. That counts as a moral victory. What I learned from listening to the conversation is that you can say anything if you believe in yourself. No lie is too big to tell. I also took notice that we are not all created equally when it comes to being diplomatic. What was said today will come back over and over again during the current news cycle. However there will be very little opportunity to rewrite that dialogue. What was said was said. I am now waiting to hear what was served at lunch. Probably more important then the meeting. Incidentally ships are not sailing from the Far East to the United States right now. The economy is slowing down clearly. Will we have empty shelves? Will things cost more? Sometimes success comes with a price tag. Closer to home the barbecue is back on the deck with a freshly filled tank of fuel. And the RV is ready to take on water. Winter is over.

There are many gadgets out there. There are many devices that will save you time. Today I will look back on my first contact with a microwave oven. Passively. I had seen the 1st commercials if you will on network game shows. The oven was a prize that many wanted. But there were none in my area. Too expensive and too rare. So, in the summer of 1974, when I went to work in a local factory. I noticed an oven in the lunch room. With a brand name that I had seen on television. And I could hardly wait for my chance to line up and use it. I skipped making a sandwich at home and found a can of still in the cupboard. I even remembered to pick up a bowl on my way out of the house. And at lunchtime I was one of the first in the line. I poured my can of stew into the bowl and I set it inside the oven. I then took the advice of a bystander and pushed run. And stood back to watch the show in the window of the oven. Nothing spectacular. I saw my stew go from heavily congealed fat to liquefied fat and when the bell rang I took my lunch off to a nearby table to get things done in my allowed twenty minutes before heading back to the factory floor. In passing I was making trailer axles in those days. This too was good. Things were warm most of the way through and the amazing thing was that there was no need to wash any pots or pans in the preparation of my meal. Just my bowl. This was one of those devices that I would place in my home at the first opportunity. It required saving a lot of money mind you because a microwave oven in those days had the same value as a real oven. From what I remember. I had never actually seen a price tag other than the one on the TV game shows. But it was clear that I would have to save a lot more of my salary before I would come home with my own personal oven. In fact that did not happen for almost a decade. Life goes by quickly when you are poor.