A Cold Blast From the Past

 

The year is 1978 and the location is north of Grande Prairie in northern Alberta. That Subaru was my transportation and it was not built for cold weather. With its very small 4 cylinder horizontally opposed engine, there was not enough heat generated to operate the engine, let alone heat the interior of the car. Did I mention it was -52? It was the coldest temperature I had ever experienced.

I was to leave for home the next day and we took the battery inside overnight to keep it warm and charged. It was not enough because the oil was gelled from the cold and the engine would not turn over, even in the closed garage.  We then put a lit camp stove under the oil pan, and after another hour or two we got it started. It was sluggish and powerless all the way to Hinton Alberta where the temperature suddenly warmed up from a Chinook wind. It was only another few miles down the road when the car literally jumped under the gas pedal and I was 'out of the woods'. When I got home I installed a core heater, which I never needed or used.

Subaru was one of the first front wheel drive cars imported to Canada. It was a great car and served me well for about 10 years.

As you can tell, I have been digging in the archives.

1969

 

I was a young 21 years old and I had made a snap decision to leave my life behind and move to the north, to seek fame and fortune. I had just experienced the most amazing summer with the MGB I had purchased earlier that spring. Life was one big party and I had no care for the future. I had a wonderful girlfriend that I had to leave behind, but other than that, there was nothing holding me back. The phone call came on a Thursday evening, that there was a job waiting for me in the Crown Zellerbach Pulp and Paper Mill at Ocean Falls BC, if I wanted it, and three days later I was on my way.

In the photo above, taken at the Vancouver docks, I am sitting behind the wheel, the last time I would be seen with my beloved sports car, and beside me is my good friend Norm, who would drive the car back to my hometown to be sold. It was sold, eventually, and I got enough to pay the repair bill for an accident I had the previous month.

As I look at the photo, I am not so much impressed with the car and the youthfulness we exude, but I am taken aback by the amount of time that has transpired since this photo was taken.  Norm just recently lost his 34 year old daughter. I just spent the afternoon with my five year old grandson. Can you read any of that on our faces as we sit all cocky and proud in the car with the top down?

 

How fortunate for us that we cannot see our lives laid out before us in the beginning, exposing both joys and sorrow, revealing the ravages of age, and hinting at both victories and defeats that are part of everyone's life. I am sure we would be frightened off and not jump onto the boat, like I did, and change my future from one of carefree irresponsibility to one of accountability and productivity.

I do not have regrets and it is pointless to second guess decisions that were made. Instead, I get out the old photos every so often, in an attempt to get back the old feelings. These feelings are important as we age for they help to keep us young, at least in spirit.  

A Good Guaranty

 

Two years ago, my annual eye examination dictated that I purchase a new pair of glasses. Due to circumstances, I was in a frugal mood and decided I would get the glasses at Costco. Friends of ours told us of a good experience at Costco's Optical Department so I had few reservations. After being assisted with frame selection, and inquiring about the size of the frame being appropriate for progressive lenses, and being assured that they were, I ordered and purchased the glasses. The first time I drove, which was home from Costco that day, I determined that these glasses were going to get some getting used to. I went back several times over the next months to get the fit adjusted. My big complaint was that I had to perch the glasses on the end of my nose while I was driving in order to get the far distance part of the lens to kick in. I resigned myself to the fact that I would just have to break them in like a new pair of shoes.

 

Fast forward to Wed. and my annual check-up. The optometrist was wondering why I was waving my head around to find the sweet spot when trying to read the chart. He looked at the glasses and shook his head saying that they were all wrong. He found the 'cross' on the lens (where the long distance meets middle distance) and told me that spot should be in line with my pupil. It was way above where it should be.

 

So I took the glasses in to Costco today and after very careful measurements and great consternation, they informed me that the lenses were wrong and they would replace them free of charge.

 

This is all fine and good, however, the fact remains that the frames are too  squat for progressives. I will now lose on 'reading' what I gain on 'distance'. I anxiously await the new lenses and hope I will not have to pursue the matter any farther.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now You See Them ....

 

Here today......

 

gone tomorrow.

 

I stepped out for my walk yesterday and almost immediately went back in. I just couldn't get myself to walk in the blustery frigid weather and so I opted for option #2. The treadmill. I don't like the treadmill and will only use it in a pinch. This was a pinch.

 

I had not been on it for a while but got in the groove quite quickly, brought it up to speed, cranked up the volume on the TV (hockey game) and was at the 4 km. mark when it happened. The reason I do not like the treadmill is that it seems to require more concentration than I am sometimes willing to give. When I walk outside, I look left, I look right, I think about this and that, and really only put one foot in front of the other, all quite safely. On the treadmill, one has to keep a constant speed and place each foot carefully in front of the next, and not vary from this precise routine.

 

I guess it was the fact that the Canucks let in a bunch of goals early in the game that contributed to my body language that resulted in a misstep. My left foot was half on and half off, my balance was thrown, and I went a tumbling. Thank goodness for the kill switch or I would still be on the circle of life dying a slow and painful death by a thousand blows.

Advantage: Outdoor walking, as one cannot really fall off of a wide sidewalk.

 

I am OK, other than embarrassed, but am again reluctant to go outdoors to finish my mileage for the day.

Advantage: Treadmill, as one can stay warm and dry and watch the Canucks spiral to oblivion which provides enough adrenalin to walk an extra K or two.

Watch The Birdie

 

We have a low hanging light fixture above our front door that had its bulb burn out and I thought I would use an odd bulb that has been kicking around the house forever. It is one of those 'Fat Albert' bulbs that used to be in vogue in the bar type bathroom light fixtures typically mounted above the sink. The problem with the bulb is that it is so fat that I had to leave out one of the amber glass panels on the bottom of the light. It is hardly noticeable except by the chickadees this fall. They tuck themselves up beside the bulb and stay toasty warm as long as the light is on. We often have been startled by the rapid flutter and escape as we step out of our front door.

Last night the escape was into the house instead of out into the yard. The poor frightened little thing frantically fluttered about the house until we finally caught him with a butterfly net and out into the cold night he went. We turned all the lights back on (we were hoping he would fly to the only light that was on, the outdoor light) and found the floor littered with tiny black things which we thought were miniature worms. Upon closer inspection, we discovered that they were feathers, the smallest you could imagine. The poor thing was so stressed out that he was shedding his protective winter coat of down.

We left the light on last night, hoping he would find his way back to a safe warm place. But please, little chickadee, as much as we like you, we would prefer that you fly to the outside next time. With winter coming, you can hardly afford to lose any more of those warmth giving feathers.

The Gorge and Vista House

 

The Columbia River Gorge has some of the most spectacular views of any place I have ever seen, and the views from the north are quite different from those from the south. We drove the north side a number of years ago and now we are torn as to which is the most beautiful. We were mostly on the south side on this trip.

 

The structure you see on top of the ridge on the right is Vista House. More photos below.

 

Looking west toward Portland.

 

Looking east.

 

 

Approaching Vista House and were surprised at what we found!

 

 

Tourists with a tripod. Most self portraits these days show at least one person without arms as they hold up their iPhone to snap the photo.

 

Smoke coming out of the hills.

 

 

These photos are not in the right order. Blogger is not letting me re-arrange them. This is the ceiling of the interior of Vista House, a magnificent structure built at the turn of the century and immaculately maintained to this day.

 

Marble arches, stained glass, chandeliers, and brass fittings, all built to last and look gorgeous for all time.

 

The marble and porcelain washrooms reminded me of my days in Ocean Falls, living in a dwelling that was constructed in the same era.

 

Did I mention this was the Men's washroom?

 

The man who engineered the incredible roads in these parts. They are a work of art and an engineering feat.

 

Brass, oak, marble and stained glass stair cases. Wow!

 

This is a very impressive structure which has free admission. If you want a home made cookie you can have one for a small donation.

 

 

 

The arched stone guard rails are everywhere along this highway. They have stood the test of time and are beautiful to look at, just like  busylizzy.

 

A  parting shot as we leave one of the highlights of our trip.

The Void

 

I guess I am on holidays now. I have no work lined up, I only have one more home improvement project (and that is on hold for a while), all my children and grandchildren are away, busylizzy is working, and here I sit, enjoying a cup of coffee and the good feeling of just having gone on a long early morning walk. The sun is shining, yet the air is cool, my computer is trouble free, and I am healthy and feeling quite well. Life is good.

I have found that no longer having to care for my dad has been a huge burden lifted from my shoulders. Not that I actually did 'hands on' care, but the non tangibles were what I did on a very regular basis for so many years. If that sounds callous, it is not. We have friends who are going through somewhat the same thing now, but more intense. We love our aging parents and we do what we have to and want to do, but it is still a burden and point of stress if we are honest.  It is not unlike a toddler finally being potty trained, or a teenager growing up and finding his or her own way in life. It is a sure eventuality, and when it comes there is relief.

Having said that, there is bit of a void that takes getting used to. It almost feels like selfishness, to enjoy the freedom, which is what the void really is.

I realise, as I revel in my good feelings of this Monday morning, stress free, that there is another stage of life coming, or perhaps another event, that could take that freedom away. The tension of being between difficult times is constantly there. I do not dwell on it, nor do I worry about it, but simply try to concentrate on how good it feels in the moment.

I think I will have some chocolate to make it complete.

Stealthy

 

A fellow is taking a tour of the military display at the local airshow. The tour guide points to a completely empty runway and says, "What do think of our newest stealthy bomber?"  

The fellow looks around and says, "I don't see any bomber!"

To which the tour guide replies, "That new technology sure is something, isn't it?"

 

A few days ago I swear I was driving one of those stealthy vehicles. Can you see it in the photo above?

 

I was cruising past a local Tim Horton's and saw the Saxon Plumbing van waiting to pull out. As I was only a few feet from him, he gunned it and in an instant was right in my face. I hit the brakes hard and swerved to the right, hoping he would keep on going. He did and I missed by less than 6 inches. He was making a left and swerved right into the oncoming vehicle going the other direction. He did not see either of our stealthy vehicles, or .... he was on a cell phone, or he had too much coffee.

 

I continued on my way and was just getting settled from the adrenalin rush. I was going through the school zone at Jackson Elementary, driving 30, the posted limit, when a mom in a van pulled out right in front of me. Again, anti-lock brakes saved the day and I missed her by inches.

 

By now, I am really beginning to wonder if I am, indeed, driving an invisible truck. If you want to see this new technology, I will drive by your house today at 1 pm. Watch for me. If you see nobody and nothing, you know it is working for you too.

Celebrity Status

 

I was eight years old. Our school did a Christmas production in the Town Hall in a little prairie town called Lanigan. My friend Brett and I were chosen to sing a duet. How and why this came about is unknown to me, but the result of that chance occurrence will remain in my memory forever.

 

That spring, there was a very popular radio program coming to our town to do a live talent contest. It was called the A.C.T. CFQC Amateur Show. CFQC was the big Saskatoon radio and TV station at the time. (There was only one) The idea was to hold the live amateur contests in about dozen communities in the listening area, declare a winner in each show, and have a finale in the TV station at the end, to declare a winner and present a prize.

Brett's mother was the big push for the two of us to compete. I was compliant so I went along with it. The big night came and each contestant sang or played (it was all musical) two numbers. Brett and I sang "The Happy Wanderer" and some song about clouds and silver linings. What else? As I recall, we were even wearing 'lederhosen' and had these little back packs as if we were indeed, happy wanders. It was our signature song.

It was a blur of backstage rehearsing, Brett's mom coaching us on how to behave, a nice man who was the MC, and the crowds of people on the other side of a very big microphone. There was thunderous applause and then we were whisked off home and to bed.

The votes were tallied, a combination of phone in votes and audience votes, and the next morning we were informed that we had won, hands down.

Fast forward to the TV studio a few months later. That was nerve wracking as I recall and this time there was no big crowd, but many station technical people, very hot lights, and no familiar faces other than Brett's mom. By this time I was being a bit intimidated by her constant nagging. I had a sense that we did not do very well, but that is only a vague impression in my memory. I do remember watching some of the other talent numbers and thinking that we were out of our league. Indeed we were. We did not win, however, we received the above certificate for our participation.

We were home town celebrities for about two days, and then life returned to normal. My notoriety, however, in my extended family, lasted until the following Christmas when my Great Grandfather tried to talk me into singing for a very large family gathering at his home in Hague, Saskatchewan.

I begged off because, as I explained, we were a duet and my friend was not there. The two part harmonies would not work without him there. My smiling Great Grandfather would have no excuses and suggested that if I go out in the porch/sun room and just sang to myself, with the screen door closed, he and the relatives would just carry on their conversations and would probably not even listen. I sensed a con job, but what convinced me to concede, was the shiny silver dollar he held in his hand.

I went out there all alone, had trouble remembering all the words, but gave it my best. I returned to polite applause and back slaps, headed straight for my Great Grandfather, took the warm silver dollar from his hand, and went to play with cousins. My moment of fame was over. Thirty seven cents more and I could buy a Tim Horton's coffee.

 

 

Talent (Not)

 

I am finding all sorts of goodies as I clean out a corner of my closet. Here we have evidence of a large part of my childhood, one that I did not enjoy or appreciate. I wrote a piece about it here if you are interested in the historical background of this important set of documents. These first two images are of the report card that the Toronto Royal Conservatory examiner filled out as he tested my ability (or inability) to play the piano to a grade four level. He was kind and compassionate and gave me a 70, just barely good enough for an honours mark. If you can decipher his comments, they are basically saying that I am rigid and am not having fun. If you read the post I wrote on this subject here , you will understand why.

 

The long and short of it, is that I did get the diploma and made my parents proud. As for me, well, lets just say that like the high school diploma, that and $1.37 will get me a cup of Tim Horton's coffee.

Paperboy

 

I came to BC in 1964 and found, to my great delight, that there was a paper route up for grabs. I was 15 years old and needed a job and money. In those days, there was no allowance or any handouts from 'Daddy'. I had had a paper route in Saskatchewan, delivering the weekend edition of some big paper from back East.  It netted me about $5 a month, more than enough for spending, and starting a healthy savings account.

This new "Province" newspaper route was a daily route, except Sundays, and the catch was that the last paper had to be delivered by 7 am. That meant getting up at 5 am and getting back home just after 7 am. There was a probation period and I did not want to let down the company, the customers, or my cousin who had outgrown the route and just handed it to me by his strong recommendation to the Vancouver Province.

I purchased a reliable used bike with my savings, installed a huge rack on the rear fender, with a 'trap', and I was off. I started in the summer months so the early mornings were bright and sunny, a good chance to familiarize myself with the 110 addresses. 

 

The winter came and the darkness and rain settled in. It was then that I had to develop some endurance and also some techniques to keep the papers from getting soaked. 

The route supervisors were vigilant and after some time had passed, I began to be recognised for my dedication and hard work. The merit was based on accurate scheduling, collection, and recruiting new customers. After a year, I had grown the route to more than 125 paying customers and it was netting me about $25 per month. 

The biggest bonus for me was that I had all my evenings free because it was after I got home from my route that I would do my homework, before breakfast and heading off for school. There was also a few extra papers every day, so my dad got his newspaper to read with his breakfast every morning. 

 

The company treated us like the young independent businessmen that we were. It was great training. I had some adventures and many good memories to recall.    

Found!

 

Our house has been in a bit of a tizzy this week as busylizzy has lost her backup pair of glasses. She has been recalling her every step for the last few days, and turning the house up-side-down, searching for the glasses, the case, and the clip-ons. Never having misplaced anything in my life (yuck yuck), I could not understand how one could lose a pair of glasses. But they were gone and have been for a few days.

 

Fast forward to yesterday afternoon when we were coming home from a wonderful Sunday afternoon walk. We were at the top of our street, a block away from home, when I spotted a pair of glasses, neatly folded and sitting on the edge of a brick retaining wall, covered in dew. I commented and pointed them out to busylizzy and she stared at them for a moment and then bent to pick them up. She did not say anything, but cleaned them and put them on. Yes, they were hers, in wonderful shape, undamaged.

 

As we were trying to unwrap the mystery, we slowly walked home and pondered over the whereabouts of the case and the clip-on sunglasses. We stood at the head of our driveway and were trying to re-enact how her glasses could have wandered off like that, when she spotted the case on the grassy edge of our driveway. The clip-on were still in the case. All was intact. Only the day before I had blown the leaves and needles from the driveway exactly where the case was, and never saw it. It is bright silver against the green grass.  

 

How do these mysteries happen?

 

I blame old age.

 

I told her that after having found her brother's gold wedding band on a cement retaining wall this summer, and now her glasses on a brick ledge, she must be living life on the ledge. Let's just not fall off because of our new found infirmities.    

Beauty Out of Adversity

 

I have always maintained that the best part of my work, my job, my business, is meeting new people and getting to hear their story. And just as a thistle can have a beautiful blossom, so can a tragic life have value and meaning.  

 

The last two days have been a highlight for me in that regard. I have come to know a person in a new way, someone I had only ever seen at a distance and had only heard about her life second hand. She was very transparent, honest, and was a true inspiration to me as I witnessed first hand how she conducts her life.

 

It is so good to know that there are people like her and that she is an influence on many lives, especially those of her children, of which there are many. She served me a proper English Tea late in the afternoon and we continued a chat that started the day before as we seemed to be working in the same space most of the time. She told me that most people who meet her feel sorry for her and cannot understand how she can cope with the many tragedies that have come her way in recent years. She looked me in the eye and said with a huge smile and with absolute conviction, "I would not trade my life with ANYONE! God always gives us just enough grace to handle what he allows into our lives." 

 

And I believe her!    

Bicycle Crash

I witnessed a bike crash yesterday. I was stopped at a red light and looked to my left for an opening so I could turn right. About 100 ft. down the road there was fellow on a bicycle, driving on the sidewalk, with no helmet. He tried to cross in front of a rather large pick-up truck that was pulling onto the street from a parking lot. The driver of the truck obviously did not see the cyclist as he ran right over him. The  truck stopped, the cyclist crawled out from under the truck, and banged on the fender of the truck motioning for the driver to back up so he could get his bicycle out from under the wheel. As I made my right turn, I caught a glimpse of the mangled, bent, and broken bike. The rider was on his feet and acting quite normally, so must have been unhurt.

When the days are sunny and dry, there are more cyclists out there, and we have to watch for them. Most of them have no clue about the rules of the road and maybe 10% of them wear the mandatory helmets. About the only place you will never see bikes is in the bike lanes, but, unfortunately, we are not allowed to drive our cars in them. It would be safer.   

To Wash, or Not to Wash

Cool blues and warm yellows, a combination that only works in nature.

You know the routine. The vehicles are dirty, the weather is nice, you have a certain amount of pride, so you wash them .... both of them. The hose gets tangled, your hands get dirty and ice cold, you kick over the soapy bucket of water, and you almost slice your finger on the licence plate. You dry them off, you stand back and admire your work, touch up the spots you missed and then put everything away. Then you winterize the outdoor taps because with the heavy frost coming, you do not need a frozen faucet.

And then, you drive your vehicle one time, park it, and it begins to rain. It will be nice to know that tomorrow as I am commuting to work in the rain, that I will have the cleanest truck on the road. It is but a fleeting moment in time. As usual.

Auditory Incredulity

It was a warm Sunday afternoon and I was in my lounge chair, in the back yard, soaking up the rays of the late breaking spring. Although my book was interesting, the warmth of the sun and the fresh air got to me and I began to doze off, half in and half out of clarity.

Way back there, in the recesses of my mind, something was nagging, no, aggravating me. It was familiar, or at least the general sound of it was. But it was familiar in an odd sort of way, incongruous, not a right fit for what it should be. I tried to ignore it but something told me something was amiss. I shook myself to a waking state, to put my mind at ease as I solved the mystery my drowsy brain was presenting to me. Yes, that's it, it is that pesky ice-cream truck. Annoying, but one of the sounds of summer that one just has to put up with if one is to enjoy the outdoors on a sunny day. But wait, something is really wrong here. I listen, and I listen some more. Can it really be? I sat bolt upright as I called to busylizzy to confirm my greatest fear. Yes, it was true. The 'Pop Goes The Weasel' style of monkey grinder music emanating from the truck was none other than Handel's Messiah Hallelujah Chorus!  Will I ever eat ice-cream again?  

Help Me!

I can think of few things more frustrating for me than misplacing something of importance.
I have three pairs of glasses. A 'good' pair of progressive lenses for general use, an old pair of progressives for driving to and from work, and a pair of 'single vision' glasses for work, giving me perfect focus for 'arms length work'. I also use these single vision glasses for computer and reading.
The glasses in question today were the 'single vision' work glasses. There are only a few places where they will ever be. On my nose when I am at work or on the computer or reading, in my work shirt pocket on the way to and from work, and on my night stand, for night, ready to slip back into the work shirt pocket in the morning.
Today, they were nowhere. I mean nowhere. I literally spent two hours looking for them, including calling the last business I was in yesterday, and the customer I was working for until late afternoon yesterday.
All of my 'stuff' has a place. I have learned over the aging years that this is a vital survival technique. I never just put stuff down. It has a place. That way, when I want it, I know exactly where it is. I have never lost or misplaced my keys, for example, because they have a place, and only one place.
When something is missing (not in its place) I know someone has moved it and then I have no way of knowing where to look for it. This results in blood pressure raising stress for me of the first order. I then have to blame ( accuse) others and they get defensive. I do not like to do this, but it is not me that missplaced the item.  But, I digress.
busylizzy 'made the bed' this morning and she does it differently than I do. She whips the blankets and pillows around violently to 'fluff them up' and sometimes the items on my night table go flying, things such as wallets, watches, internet radio remote, hankies, loose change, work notes, and yes glasses. I know this so one of the first places I looked was on the floor behind, beside, and underneath the night stand.
Fast forward to a only a few moments ago. busylizzy was feeling sorry for me as she sometimes does when I rant and rave and my blood pressure goes through the roof. She offered to look where I already looked. This sometimes works. She pulled the nightstand away from the wall and then we, together pulled the bed away from the wall. And then she spotted them. The glasses were hanging a few inches off the floor, dangling from the phone cord.
Aha! Vindication. It was not I, after all, that misplaced them. I am just so happy to have them back mainly because I do not have to order a new pair. And, my system of having a place for everything is still working for me. 
I was so relieved that I told busylizzy I wanted to lick her shirt. (It has the word "Chocolate" written all over it) I know, I am sick.

Blunder Blogger

This blogger site usually works quite well but right now I am not able to upload any photos. So if you only log on to see the pretty and not so pretty pictures, you can move on now.
Yesterday I told you about some worrisome aspects of my work. Things can change rather rapidly, and they did. Early in the morning I got a call from the customer whose job I was supposed to start today. He has been very ill and will not be able to get things ready for me for today, but I can start on Tuesday.
The fellow whose transmission broke down managed to scrape some money together and I got paid, but had to drive a good distance to get the 'envelope'.
As for the "check in the mail", we will give Canada Post a few days to deliver before we really start getting too concerned. I would say end of week before we see any money.
This all made the week end well, especially with a great Mexican Theme Night dinner with some very dear friends last night. We also brewed coffee for more than four hours at church yesterday.  The aroma of a freshly brewed cup of coffee does not smell that great after four hours of doing it. I got an overdose of caffeine just breathing in the steam.
All in all, a busy, tiring, but great finish to the week.  Can you picture it?

A Last Goodbye

These flowers are gone, and so is the wallpaper. I just realised that I took this photo the day before I hung the new paper over the old. I was reminded of how I came to acquire this wallpaper many years ago.

I was working for an interior designer who was a bit shifty, but he always paid me for work I did for him and we got along alright. He always had some kind of deal going on the side and never seemed to concentrate on one thing. He had a design studio in Surrey and supplied such things as window treatments, wall coverings, and art, for his clients.

I had just finished a large paperhanging job for him in a show home on Fraser Heights and when it came time to pay, he told me he was in financial trouble and he would be declaring bankruptcy. By his tone of voice and demeanor, I knew he had more to tell me. He asked me to order something for my home that would be of equal value and he would give it to me in payment for the work I had done. I took sample books home and after choosing paper for most of our house, I also measured our windows on the upper floor for louvre blinds.

I gave him the order and told him I would pay the difference because I knew that what we had ordered was worth a lot more than what he owed me.

When the order came in, I picked it up from his house as his studio was already closed. I was prepared to pay the extra but he insisted that I take the whole order, window treatments and all, and we would call it square. I told him I could not do it as it was too much, he was being too generous. He told me he could not return and if I did not take it and get out of there it was going in the garbage. I took it.

I suspect he ordered it from his suppliers and never paid them. He was that kind of guy. I never saw him again.

Near Miss

Six hundred years ago, there was a total eclipse of a full moon.  And now we were in the desert, with little light pollution, soaking in the hot tub, with time on our hands, and it was going to happen again. Late evening it began and soon the moon was half covered by the shadow of the earth. And then the clouds suddenly rolled in, and in a matter of minutes, the view was totally obscured, and we missed it. Oh well, maybe next time.

A few weeks later, I was face up beside the pool on a sunny day, thinking about how I missed that rare event, and marvelling how the moon was now only half, but so visible in the sky in the early afternoon, when suddenly, I saw a jet liner hurtling toward it.

My mind was racing. How could I quickly get to a place where I could get a photograph of the plane crashing into the moon. By the time I would get dressed and run the fourteen blocks to the south to line up the shot, it would be too late.

So, I lay there and watched, knowing that yet again.....

.....I missed a rare and momentous event.