TubaOrNotTuba

The woman who lives down at the bottom of the lane has left for the winter. I know this only by inference. When she replaced the roof on her home this week, I thought that this was a sign that she was getting set for the long haul. But no. Instead, we received a phone call this morning that told us she was already at home across the border. And that we should not worry about the three propane tanks left at the top of the hill because they too would leave. And so, they have. A truck just stopped by and took them. And now I have so many questions. Where did the tanks go? Is there a gas tank bus that stops by and takes them off for the winter? Do they stay nice and warm? Obviously, my tanks do not leave. A rather large truck comes and fills some on an infrequent basis. Mind you, my tanks are large. It requires special equipment to move them around where is her case she simply grabs them puts them in the car and drives him up here. But with all those preparations why does she go away. Is it warmer elsewhere? Is she figuring that the snowfall will catch her off guard and keep her trapped down there for months on end? It could happen. I can see it now. Getting out to snowshoe to go looking for groceries. Like people did a century ago. There are differences I know it’s in time of my great grandparents they put the food down the well. At least i think it was down the well it was before my time. Maybe they had a deep basement. But, there were no verges to get groceries by snowshoe. We live in more modern Times Now. Except for the gas cylinders.

I am a fervent fan of factoids. Those tiny Nuggets of knowledge that form the building blocks of many game shows. A pursuit of trivia for some or a moment of jeopardy for others. We get Our daily dose of jeopardy from streaming TV which means that we may be behind in terms of time but we always catch up. However I never seemed to win any of the big money. There is one thing that I find very distracting and I blame the host. He or she seems to find the need to make conversation with the guests. Contestants. And to do so questions are asked about what they were doing when they got the call. Unlike the majority of the questions on the game I cannot possibly know the answer to that question. Maybe they need to find a different way to distract. I am now starting to wonder if there is a huge database available online where I can just go Ann Reid old questions. With almost four decades of gameplay the library might be interesting and would certainly serve to elucidate. That is a trivial word. Or, is there a way that I can tap into the cash flow. I mean some of those answers that I give must be worth money somewheres in the universe. I will take dollars from another country if required. Do I keep a score? No after all this is just a game and if you were to see the number of questions I miss you and lose any belief that I know what I’m doing. There, a trivial factoid for you. Am I amazed at what I learn each day? Perhaps? I mean, I have no point of comparison. If my name was on the board it might seem more relevant. But I am just a spectator in a much larger game.

When I received the phone call this morning it was expected my mother who has been ill is now gone. My siblings and I are now orphans in the technical sense I know that’s not how it really works but I have no other experience to go by I do not know what happens next. I’m almost too old to start learning new things. Anyhow I guess tomorrow will be a new day and I will still get up and do the same things I do every day but there will be one piece missing. This was and is my mother and she knew me longer than anyone else on earth I hope that I brought her no shame. I hope I brought her comfort from time to time. She did for me. Trying to judge the quality of a parent is difficult because we all have our own set of experiences. In my case she was always there even at a great distance. The phone number that I still carefully memorized will not serve me again. I will not be building a pile of old photographs, although I could. I have the memories and that’s what is really valuable. My children have been informed and they will have to set their own memory banks. I knew her better than them I can say in my most judgmental tone. The reality is that we live we love we die. My own time will be measured by others. I have been warned that grief is a process. A long one. And so now I must find my best jacket and get ready for the long cold winter.

What games did you play back when you were a child? I can remember most of mine and I do call to mind but most of them came from my exposure 2 media. What was on TV? We, meaning myself and others of my group used TV for guidance. We played westerns and we played war and we paid Treasure Island but oddly we never played spy. That was something outside of our world and outside of our interest. As I grow older I am aware that the secrets of others have value. I do want to point out that I really seek to know what those secrets might be. In other words, I am not a spy at heart. I do take the time to watch coverage of political intrigue which includes the world with spies I assume they all seem to have secrets and because we the public knows some of those secrets it goes to the heart but there are spies involved. I am particularly aware of how poorly people keep secrets. We have famous individuals who take great joy bragging about the things they have learned in their work. Not skills. Secrets. I have rarely seen airplanes that are used in war or submarines or battleships I have no information to give others. And I am fully aware that if you know about something like this, you’re not supposed to tell others who do not need to know. Unfortunately, we have certain politicians who get their joy in showing others how in the loop they are. To learn that a former president was bragging about nuclear secrets leaves me bewildered. Also, cold they realize that these are kept out of the public eye for a good reason. And if someone asked me are there secrets locally that are important, I would have to claim no. No knowledge, no exposure, no hidden information. I am not rich nor am I famous and no one has ever come to the door to ask me what I know other than the census people every five years. If I was to begin a game to play, spy versus spy would be very low on my list of subjects. I would probably be more interested in recounting the places I have been. Few in number but of intense interest to me.

Think of it as an innocent pleasure. I have a television program that I have watched several times actually over the years. A series in a mythical village located in another country. The show? Why, that would be Ballykissangel, which I watched for the first time back about the time that I had very young children it was available on PBS and only if I was there in front the TV at the required time. I didn’t always make but I tried hard. Later on, I managed to find a DVD set. To be kept in a just in case moment. And now the program is back on streaming TV. Something that would allow me to watch the program all day every day and all night if I was so inspired. I’m not of course but I find the program has aged very well. Like me. Familiar faces somewhat familiar storylines and a charm. There’s no greed here there’s no Everest there’s no cruelty to others. Just a small village located far from the madding crowd as they say where I can find if you will solace. Like the program I have aged well. As in, not at all. I have even convinced others in the house to watch while I try to avoid giving plot lines and back stories. Let them discover for themselves the charm. What is difficult is talking about the program while others would like to be watching it. My need to blog is distracting and if I talk loudly enough, I will cover the volume of the program. Yes, I have tried going to other rooms in the house, but I get found. When I was typing I could hide the subject but while I did dictate it’s not as easy. And with that I’m going to halt. Get a word count. Call this evening over and wait for tomorrow.

I was I admit a poor student of literature. My teachers tried but I could never get the hook that would take me through to follow a story to the end. And even less so the story of the author. This afternoon I watched a documentary on a poet. One where I recognize the name and nothing else. And here’s the thing; if someone takes the time to make a documentary about you you probably have a story for the rest of us. I have no intention to take up writing poetry or deep prose but I am interested in the process. How does someone decide to make their life all about 10 lines on the page or 20 lines or 200 lines? How do you decide to tie your character and your way of thought to something that someone else will read? To be fair writing a blog does not count. I am heavily invested in a page only until it is finished. Sometimes a matter of minutes. Please, do not ask me to tell you what I wrote about yesterday or the day before because I frankly do not remember. To find that someone can take and write a poem and then go on tour for several years and recite that poem to countless others is not my experience. But I do learn from their life. Thank you to those who are willing to make a long movie about such things. Maybe I should ask my children to write a story about me. Or maybe not. They have busy lives and find other ways to lose an evening. But go ahead pick a name from the pantheon of authors and then take the time to do a bit of mild research. See if you can capture something of the spirit in what has been written. Or in what has been told about that person. There are so many.

I try to avoid paying attention to who is in the seats of authority in government. However the last couple of days mark a couple of firsts in Canadian history. After a power shift in Manitoba we now have our first First Nation premiere. After some turbulence in the House of Commons we have our first black Canadian as the speaker. Minor details but in the Canadian context that’s all we really have. I wait to see what will happen next locally. Outside more great weather. The lawn has never had such tender loving care as during the last week. Are we in the running for golf course of the week? I do not know. There were no telephone calls of note. Another marker in my days. Since I do not telephone anyone else and since my list of correspondents has shrunk to an all time low, not getting any calls makes perfect sense. I also do not get much snail mail. I really cannot remember the last time I wrote a letter so that also makes sense. Almost as if we gone back several centuries in time. Before my time at least. Even Amazon delivered nothing today. Anything else of note? Well, I am still here talking about nothing. Based on the Seinfeld method I might soon get my own TV show. I suppose I could go downstairs and practice changing a guitar string. How desperate am I for something to do? I did have a submarine sandwich today made with TLC in my own kitchen. Sorry subway but you have been bumped from my list of preferred providers. For the record just a little bit of mustard makes all the difference on the ham sandwich. And the garbage is out. Not to the road but out. A careful dance on my part to make sure that I went from point A to point B without losing any content along the way. How I missed the carefree days of old when this was just part of my routine. Now it’s about all I have left.

Here in the country, I am easily distracted by one simple thing. The sound of a siren. We do not hear them often and anytime one comes up we immediately imagined the worst. There are not many people in this part of the world and a siren spells danger. Of some sort. I was in the house this afternoon when I heard something down by the corner and I went outside to look. Saw nothing and now I’m left with the big mystery. What was going on. I imagine that if you live in the city, you can figure such things out but here far from the big buildings the sound could be coming from almost anywhere. On another note, last night, I could see the lights on the other shore. Far away and it only happens once or twice a year. Something meteor logical and it causes me to look immediately for a lighthouse there is one over there and as I say I can only see it once or twice a year. As for the rest of today there was nothing unusual. An ideal autumn. I have to believe the leaves are changing colour. Not based on something I’ve seen but I will ask others. Easy to insert into conversation. Have the leaves changed colour yet? There is not enough wind to cause him to fall but that too will come soon enough. No sign of my friendly foxes is today. I wonder where they go when they’re not out here watching their personal TV. Perhaps, later tonight, I will hear them barking. A special sound not quite a dog not quite a wolf something else. And if the wind dies and the moon comes out maybe I will spot them moving through the grass. At least a sensation of motion.

This is the time of the year when the earth shakes. A little. We live in an area where they cultivate potatoes and those potatoes once dug in the ground have to be carried to warehouses. In trucks that roll past my door. The fields change every year. One of those regulations by the government that keeps the field from being overused. But the roads are here and there used every season. So, when I say the earth shakes it does. A good thing I suppose. These will become food for someone. Perhaps me but not in the quantities imagined. I actually was outside working on my suntan. That also is infrequent but with the temperature high and the sun coming down and no breeze I could hardly avoid the opportunity. I no longer stay out long enough to burn unlike a lifetime ago. Rated book now I missed the dog. He was not going given to sunburn either, but he was there. And now he’s not. Even the tune lists on YouTube are somewhat melancholy. In part my fault because that’s the way my taste runs. I do not spend my days looking for new music because the older stuff works well. I watched a long documentary on an old film. A film from before I was born. The story is somewhat familiar to me but it is fun to see someone else take things and notice how many details I never saw the first or second or third time around. Maybe I will re watch the film the next time I am truly bored. Outside I can hear the sound of the hedge trimmer. We do not have a hedge, but we do have some kind of a little device they will go along and beat the leaves of grass into submission. Bringing them down to ground level before winter. I also started to review my notes and how to make the RV into an all-seasons vehicle. Dump the tanks dump the water and sit back and wait for spring. Closer than you think. Our travel will be limited as a chance of snow builds. And that is also fine with me. I have a warm house and good food and the idea of getting away from here is not on my personal reader. Send me a postcard from wherever you end up I can use that for my own dream.