TubaOrNotTuba

Be careful out there. Try not to overthink things. You slipped into a moment of introspection and suddenly you find that you have changed. You are now a legend in your own mind. Not what you want. Leave becoming a legend to others. Think of all the occasions we have to be in front of a group of people and jump to the assumption that they know who we are. Classroom teachers do it all the time even if their students have never heard them sing or seen them dance watch some try to draw a mouse. We come with all kinds of assumptions about ourselves that are not met in the minds of others. If by chance you do become legendary try to do it for a good reason. Perhaps you do not want a page in a history book if it does not make you someone that you would like to be. I am not famous. If you are reading these words put it down to chance. Or you are related to me. And the fewer moments there are for others too guess at who I am the fewer occasions there are to put on a coat that does not fit. I have been listening to a lot of history recently the history of others. And in almost all cases the person other tension and end information and the centre of it all would probably like that to be elsewhere. Now this is probably a case where there will have to be some everything done because I realized that when I cannot see or hear what I am doing I will tend to go off in directions that were not planned. Less chance of becoming famous I suppose. In other incidents from today I have refilled one of my gas bottles. For the bubbly water. And I am doing it all by listening rather than seeing. Title avoiding being a historical figure

My sneezing fit ended about 10 minutes after it started period. A reaction to a small piece of chocolate cake. I found this interesting for one reason. One of my sons has exactly the same reaction. Is that proof of DNA? I mean chocolate cake is not unknown neurotoxin. And it’s not like we had gone for a wander in a bit of Poison Ivy. This was just one of those moments that makes one curious about why things happen. If I had access to someone who worked in the field. Not the Poison Ivy field. The field of allergies gramma I would ask the question. And I guess there’s always that woman in the background. Siri. The name I dare not speak. So many answers to my unasked questions. Anyhow the chocolate cake was part of a celebration. I had not gone out to find such a treat, because it was offered to me. The sneezing was just a way to clear all of my science is at once. I consider myself fortunate that I have few allergies that I know about. Cats. Keeps the house clear of small animals that want to kill me while I sleep. Fortunately most of us discover our allergies in benign manners. No sudden moments of anaphylactic shock they put it close to dying. After all it was just a small piece of cake. As for cats they tend to avoid me which is a sign that they also may have allergies. Again I would ask the question if I had an expert but I’m not going to speak to that woman in the background. My choice.

I do not chess. Play chess. I did a long time ago learn the names of the pieces I think that most school children get to that point. However I have never found a need to immerse myself in the strategies and history of the various games. Happily we have a parallel world known as politics. If you take the time to study a little history at more than the most basic level you start to see that chess and politics are closely related. Am I willing to take on a new life as a student of chess? Do I want to know about four dimensional chess someone rumoured? Not at all I am happy to leave that job to others with a deeper seated interest. Instead I will continue to stand back and watch. Chess and politics. The whole world is watching, right now, as the campaign for president unfolds. Any race that is still neck to neck with only two months to run means that there’s something more going on than simple moves. And once you start to see the parallels you will notice them elsewhere. In the office? Of course. In the daily news? Of course happily I have never had a dog that tried to play chess with me. I think we had much more of a checkers relationship. I do like that there is so much history left to learn. About both the game and the politics that surround me. We need to have parallels in our lives. It keeps us from testing multiple possibilities that could cause deeper problems. In that sense chess is a proxy for life.

In retrospect I have a very good driving record. Almost flawless with a couple of minor exceptions. My first entry into the hall of shame happened in the driver’s education car during the driver’s course after school. You see, over time I gathered experience and hubris. And the consequence was that I placed that huge car on top of a snow bank. I then had the memorable pleasure of pushing it back down. Education. My next moment happened a few months later. I had a little too much confidence in fact, I had a little too much hubris and I was out in the Main Street of town on my bicycle. Following two motorcycles. When they peeled off and did a U-turn I decided I could do just as well. And I drove straight into the side of an oncoming car. No injuries other than to my pride and my pocketbook. I had broken the aerial for the radio on his car and he was determined not to pay for it but for me to pay for my foolishness. The police were summoned and after confirming my identity and my stupidity the police told me simply to pay the bill. Which I did by driving out to the man’s place of employment out in the country later that week and handing over all of the money in my wallet. About $10 as I remember. Things cost less in those days. Just for the record, the bicycle was red which did not make it go any faster. That same bicycle was later destroyed in a glorious accident near my home. That moment got me a ride in an ambulance.

It is odd the things you remember as we get older. I recall the first time I saw my footprints on the road. A minor thing but it tells you a lot about the time and the place. Obviously it was not raining because I was walking in what we called sand. Silt. Crossing the road in front of my house. No need to look for cars because the roads had very few of them. Getting my feet dusty was also just a minor detail. Obviously I was with my mother because my father had a job to go to and she had the time to watch me walk on the road. It did not happen often. We had a pump in the yard and that was sufficient to wash my feet. No need to go home and run a tub which would have meant heating water on the stove and going through far too much effort to clean some dust from some tiny feet. I also realized that I was not wearing shoes. I think I only had to wear shoes to go to church. As I say, funny the things we remember. It would have been a warm day and I will bet that we had not yet passed through the first decade of my life. Probably not even the first couple of years. There was no dog of by my side. That came later. And I never walked on the railway because the trains killed people we learn that at a very young age. That small element almost cost my sister her life when she was rescued from a dangerous place sitting on the tracks. At least the trains moved very slowly and someone had time to run down the road and onto the roadbed and rescue her from what would have been something tragic. I doubt she remembers the incident which would be a good reason for me to remind her. Life was easy living not so much.

If you take the time to dig into any family history I’m sure you will find details that are odd. I hope that none were really odd let’s call them eccentric. Along about the point where one of my sisters was born we were also moving from one community to another and we took a place in a small apartment in the city. We did not come with a whole lot of furniture. This was a temporary location. And then almost as an afterthought one of my sisters was born. Now I’m digging deep into memories. I was young enough that I had not yet started school so do your own calendar work. But provide a place for her to sleep we made a decision. Again I had no decision making power but I feel that I was there. And so rather than investing in a large crib which would not have fit in the small apartment my parents chose to use a drawer. Taken from a chest of drawers as they used to say. A place where you kept all your clothes. They made furniture better back in those days perhaps but the drawer was taken out of the frame and placed I believe on top. And that became my new sister’s crib. I’m sure that she does not remember. In fact there are probably only two people left in the world that recall those times. Myself and another sibling period. The drawer was carefully lined with who knows what blankets. The baby slept there for months. Until we move to our next home which was in a large house. There may be pictures but I no longer have access to any of those materials so I will leave it to my sister to do her own. Can she find something about her first bed. I do not have any photos of my first bed and the next bed to come along was one of those metal contraptions that they used to use to torture small children. Just joking. The drawer was and timely solution. Used for only a few months until we had moved on to a new home. I would like to think that this is her founding story because we all need one. We had no dogs with us at that point so she can’t rely on that. We had only one car which was red and white and I hope she will not rely on that. I think the drawer is a much better story to hang on her wall. The next time I see her I will ask her if she wants someone to draw one up for her family history.

Earlier this week I learned that a local house had changed ownership Just a detail really except for one thing. I know this house, well. Constructed by my grand father during the First World War. At that point the house changed into a home. My father was born in an upstairs bedroom. My grand father died in the living room. And I lived there when I first started teaching so many years ago. I never contemplated owning this house although I would be curious to know what the current value is. The transfer did not involve a realtor, so I do not  know.  It was a well constructed house although the stairs were too steep for average people. Apparently the banister was carved by hand by my grand father. I did visit the house after I moved away and the next owners made several minor changes to the floor plan but the house remained solid. It still is. In fact there are two houses in PEI that were owned by my two sets of grandparents and, they’re both still in use. I cannot say the same thing for the homes of my  great- grandparents. Nor do I have any idea if this will be said about my current home. My grandfather’s house probably remained due to the changes in heating technology, preventing it to be the victim of a fire. All of the barns are gone from my grandparents’ properties. No need for oversize structures when the cows have gone home. In the case of both homes, the lawn was well cared for and everything was carefully built with locally sourced wood.

How do you make decisions? Culturally there are many ways. You can consult with a friend. That might mean explaining why you’re in a position of making a decision but let’s not go there. You can flip a coin if you can find one. I may have some in the bottom of a drawer but the economy no longer uses coins. You can sit and ponder but that might lead you down roads you do not want to visit. Have you ever seen that meme about someone sitting with two devils one on each shoulder? Do you really want to ask the devil for an answer? What about waiting for the phone to ring and asking the unknown caller. Most of my callers represent Amazon apparently and they’re quite willing to hang up at the first sign of deviation from their script. You could put off making decisions. Like the government does too often. That will not make your public happy but then again making a decision is not about making others happy it’s about making a decision. I used to own a book which required me to flip 3 coins and go to the right page it was supposed to invoke chance in making decisions. Highly ineffective. As for asking the oracle, I believe you have to live in Greece. In short there is no easy way to make a decision.Does anyone else have a sure-flier method to decide the future other than simply waiting for the future to arrive?

Throughout most of our lives we have reason to travel. The mode and the destination provide the majority of the details. However I do want to reflect for a little bit on where I have slept. On the city bus is a poor place to sleep. Too many starts and stops and too much stress over missing my proper corner. Once we get out of this city things improve. I have slept on the intercity bus but that was rare. Most of my moments have been spent on more professional modes of travel. By rail is wonderful. Trains tend to have proper beds. There is even someone to wake you before your stop. While on a ship you may even have a small room with proper bed sheets and a pillow. True comfort. The few times I have traveled by air I have had to wait for the moments of white-knuckle stress to pass at the start and the finish of the trip. Little time to really sleep. I have been unable to get a chance to travel on anything more exotic although I did have an afternoon with a dog sled. No sleep there. Too cold and the dogs tipped on barking. Actually, I did make one trip on a train in the baggage car. I had found some dogs kept prisoner in cages and I spent my time trying to make friends. It was a different time and there was not much staff to interfere period. As I mentioned the other message of travel do not lead to sleep. Believe me on a bicycle all of your time is spent keeping your balance. I am sure there are other methods but I will probably not have any occasion to try them.

Can you have too much of a good thing? Of course you can. The real question is how long it takes you to figure that out in life. Again, most of us learn it at an early age. I have a fun memory that involves food, well sort of. Due to my summer job, I ended up with a lot of food which was considered good for camping. In particular; marshmallows. I know it is just sugar in a lump but when you are very young, the idea makes sense. I ended up getting a full case of marshmallows leftover after a summer beach party. Not wanting to waste anything at that age I had my friends pack the carton of marshmallows in plastic bags into the trunk of the car before we set off on a road trip. No lie: we did eat some marshmallows but there comes a point where the sweetness goes beyond the texture. However, we were at a camping site and there was an old but very friendly black lab that came along. He wanted to join us for whatever we were having because that’s how dogs think of humans. Just to be clear this was not the only food we had on the camping trip. We also had canned meat. We also had bags of bread, which my friends used to call condensed cloud. Overall, an unbalanced diet. Although, the dog would have loved to share our canned meat, we did not oblige. After all even camping requires some nutrition and as you can see, I did check later in the weekend and the dog seemed to be in good health. No thanks to the food supply from the university. This was a long time ago. I have stopped feeding marshmallows to dogs. As for canned meat, that is a serious budget lime item.