Live with purpose, finish strong

It is New Years Eve, a traditional time of making resolutions and setting goals. It is a time when one can review the past year, enjoy memories of the high points, and strive to improve the low ones.

When I think of achieving goals, two people come to mind.

The first is Anna, a vibrant 24-year-old from my home town who left this world unexpectedly in a vehicle collision just two weeks ago. I had not met Anna personally, but was familiar with her reputation.

As I surfed through web sites giving tribute to her life, the theme was always the same: “…you were such a passionate, hard-working and positive person who loved God with your whole heart...” “…hard to image such a polite, hard-working and caring person…”

“She had such a sweet spirit and kind heart but at the same time had a great sense of humor and was quite a prankster!  What a joy she was to have here!  She brought so much life and laughter.”

The achievements in other people’s lives of this young lady surpass that of many older folk. She had goals and determination beyond her years. Her last text message to a friend said, “We are almost there, finish strong!”

Indeed, Anna finished strong.

The second person I think of is Florence, my roommate during my last year of college. Florence was the most loving, loyal and forgiving girl anyone could wish to share a room with, and I regret to think how much of each was practiced on me!

She always said her name was Florence for a reason. She was to be a nurse like her namesake, Florence Nightingale. So after a year of Bible College, she headed into nurses’ training. She then spent a couple years in Central America, and another two or three years in northern Manitoba, gaining experience and finding her “niche”. She then took her masters degree in maternity care and was very involved with the implementation of a midwifery program in her home province.

One summer Florence took more sick days than usual, just not feeling well. It was discovered she had a brain tumor. She tried treatments to no avail, so resigned and cleared out her office in September. By late October she was gone.

Her obituary summed up her life well: “Professionally, a nurse and a midwife who was passionate about her work. Personally, gifted with close friends whom she loved, and who loved her. Spiritually, a person who worked at integrating faith into every part of her life.”

Florence also finished strong.

As we look forward to 2013, what goals and changes to we need to make in order to finish strong? There are no guarantees we may see another New Years Eve. Let's use this one to make our lives count!

Fire changes Christmas

It was mid December in the mid-1960s, and my brothers and I were on our way home from a rehearsal for the annual Christmas concert when we noticed a glow in the western sky. It didn’t appear to be far away, so we continued down the road to check it out.

It wasn’t long until we knew the cause of the glow. Our neighbours’ house was engulfed in flames. We joined the long row of vehicles parked along the edge of the road, where I stayed in the truck while my brothers went to see if their help was needed.

The voluntary fire crew was already there. We had arrived in time to see the last wall go down. But nobody at the scene knew if husband, wife, or any of their eight children had been at home. It was a silent but devastating thought to my young adolescent mind, that three kids with whom I had ridden home from school on the bus that afternoon had lost everything and may not even be alive.

The following day the news came through that the family had been visiting relatives and were all safe. They would temporarily be staying with extended family. The fire was deemed to have started at the Christmas tree, presumably from lights left on, and all the gifts had been destroyed with the house.

Our small community sprang into action with arrangements for donations to this family who had nothing. My grandmother, who lived with us, spent hours remaking unused fabric into useful household items. She also made a rag doll, thinking that one of the children may enjoy it.

When school resumed after the Christmas break, the neighbours were in their “new” home, that being an old house they were able to move to their farmyard. The kids were back on the school bus.

One morning while I was riding along to school, I noticed one of the girls showing off her doll. She had become so endeared to it she would not leave it at home. To my amazement, it was the rag doll that Grandma had made! I was sure the child could sense that the doll had been made with love, the unconditional kind of love she needed at that time.

I have no recollection of what gifts were under our Christmas tree that year. But the lesson quietly displayed in an act of kindness is forever etched in my memory.

Gift ideas for RVers

As Christmas approaches, the question pops up on numerous web sites and on Twitter – what are suitable Christmas gift ideas for RV enthusiasts?

The answers are likely as varied as the units the RVers use. What type of RV do they use? What type of campgrounds do they visit? The possibilities are endless, but the two characteristics to keep in mind are size and weight. Avid RVers are very aware of limited space and vehicle weight. Also keep color in mind, especially for indoor decorative gifts. Small spaces can look disorganized quickly if things don’t coordinate.

We seem to always have a wish list in process, things that would enhance the experience, things that wear out, etc. Some items are wonderful to receive as gifts, others are unique to the individual and are best when chosen personally.

For your curiosity or use, here are a few ideas:

Camping mat, for the area under the awning. These mats let moisture and light through but prevent dirt and moisture from entering the RV. It works best to have a mat the approximate size of the awning.

Folding table, either small for a beverage or book, or a little larger for a table-top barbecue. There are some great-looking tables out there in weather-resistant materials.

Leveling blocks, the flat ones that resemble lego blocks. They come in various colors, usually in a box or bag. They are great to use and useful for many things but break quite easily, so one can always use some replacements.

A good, wholesome movie to enjoy in areas of poor television reception. This is especially true for those of us on “peasant vision” (no satellite).

High-quality mosquito repellants or body lotions are never amiss, especially in western Canada.

And that’s my “two bits” on the subject for this year!

Music of Christmas across the ages

The other day I saw an invitation to the annual seniors’ Christmas party in a town where I used to live. The realization struck me that, according to their criteria, I was now old enough to attend legitimately!

I have probably already attended more seniors’ Christmas parties than most seniors.

It was in the mid 1960’s that my mother sent a note with a book to my music teacher, telling her that I had been asked to play at the seniors’ tea, and asking her help to prepare the piece that I would play. I was in grade seven. The price sticker shows $1.80 and that's not on sale!

In the years following, I learned more pieces until I could play through the book. Each day of December, my mother would have me play thorough that book for her – a daily Christmas recital.

During high school, Christmas break was preceded by a week of exams. It was the routine of a few of my school classmates and I to gather at one friend’s home over lunch hour to study. Well, they studied. I was usually at the piano with my carol book. My friend’s mother appeared to enjoy my stumbling fingers, too.

Since that time we have changed residences about thirty times, at in many places I have used my carol book to play for church or to provide preludes for carol festivals. I have accompanied carol sings and soloists, many of them at a seniors’ Christmas party.

The public appearances have diminished over the past decade, but I still enjoy making music. When we moved from the RV, we brought my electronic piano in for the winter. On the next trip to storage I retrieved a box of Christmas music, including the old carol arrangement book.

This evening I relished in playing through that book yet again. It floods my mind with happy memories as well as familiar tunes. But I won't be off work in time to join the seniors for the party.

Just in Time

Winter’s snow and cold has descended on Central Alberta. October 2012 was an interesting month to be living in an RV. Those “winterized” units are not truly WINTERized.

The month started fine, with balmy temperatures and the annual Thanksgiving visit from big brother. We relocated to our friends’ yard and they ventured off on a road trip.

Then things changed! Snow fell and the temperature dropped. Even with some adjustments, the furnace seemed to be running all the time. The propane budget was blown away with the wind - $250 worth over one month!

Finally, there was a short reprieve in the weather. The folks from our winter housesit were able to begin their journey to Arizona and we were able to move into their house. Our kids graciously arranged their busy schedule to help carry boxes and, of course, my piano.

My thinking about full-timing in Canada has changed a little now.  I love RV living, but housesitting is a pretty good arrangement for Canadian winters!  It was a welcome change to be cozy and comfortable with an unlimited water supply, and to know it would still be that way in the morning. The cable and internet services are a big plus for long winter evenings as well.

The move was made just in time. Within hours it was snowing and blowing again. But I was tuned in to TSN, just in time for the last Roughrider games of the season.

Remembering gets personal

In the little Saskatchewan town where I grew up, the annual Remembrance Day service was held in the theatre. I will never forget that clink, clink sound as the veterans made their way down the sloped floor to the front rows. They were the grandfathers, fathers, and uncles of my school peers. We saw the results of war service every day — the gentleman who swung his straight wooden leg at each step, the neighbour who felt fortunate to be able to still bend his knee above a wooden leg, the fellow who often acted a little strange because “he was in the war.”

At my uncle’s funeral, we watched the Legion members pay tribute to a comrade. One by one, they stepped in front of the coffin, placed a poppy and saluted, until the entire coffin was covered with poppies. We were moved to tears hearing about our uncle’s thirty-plus flights over enemy territory and his post-war duties of assessing damage. He died at age 58, a life shortened by the stress of war.

Nowadays those veterans of the two world wars are gone, but another generation of veterans have emerged. Some of them also have stories behind missing limbs. Their precise drills and sharp uniforms often hide the anxiety and horror they endure as a result of their service. Our peacekeepers and combat troops deserve their moment of recognition. They, too, are someone’s parent, spouse or sibling.

Another group worthy of remembrance are the civilians who provided support services to the troops. They underwent arduous pre-deployment training, slept in the same tents, ate the same food, carried bulletproof vests and helmets wherever they went, listened to land mines explode at sunset, and they breathed the same air. 

Some come back with disabling symptoms similar to those of the personnel they supported. I know, because I live with one. Post-traumatic Stress Disorder, Gulf War Syndrome and other such terms are not mere descriptions. They are real and life-changing conditions, the modern equivalent to the wooden legs of the past.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

– from For the Fallen by Laurence Binyon

The "other side" of housesitting

The idea of sitting in someone’s yard when they are away can sound like the ultimate vacation. No campground fees, free electricity and water, mowing the lawn once in a while and watering some flowers – must be nice!

Oh, wait, that’s while providing security with your presence and checking the house twice a day.

On our way to our first yardsitting commitment this spring, our fifth wheel was bumped in a minor collision. The ladder was broken and the rear bumper area was damaged enough that it had to be in the shop for a week to be repaired. During that time we stayed in our friends’ house.

There was a quick thunder shower in the area on Sunday afternoon and lightning hit a generator at the substation eight kms away from our location. The result was a huge BANG followed by a short sizzling sound and seven hours without electricity.

The power surge damaged everything in the house with an electronic component (security system, motherboard and controls for furnace, motherboard for on-demand hot water heater, water softener, hard-wired smoke alarm, wi-fi, two televisions, etc.) and every surge protector in the house was fried. Several of the neighbors also had damage to the electronics in their homes.

Over the next two weeks we experienced the “other side” of housesitting. It was difficult to email friends on vacation in Europe to tell them their belongings were damaged. The first reply was, “Hey you guys, April Fools was two months ago!”

We looked through the house with an electrician and made an initial report to start an insurance claim. Then we phoned the respective companies and arranged for repairs so the house would be operable for the owners’ return. Many calls and several visits later, the water softener and hot water heater were back in operation.

It has now been two months since that eventful day. The last report was that the damage had reached at least $8,000.00. There is now a surge protector installed at the entry box for the entire house to prevent another such event.

A significant blessing involved in this story is that our fifth wheel was held up at the repair shop over the weekend because an employee had called in sick on the Friday. Consequently it was not on site at the time of the surge and was spared any harm. We picked it up on Monday and were able to live in it, hot water and all, while the house damage was being repaired. There was a shocked response when I asked the tech to thank his employee for calling in sick!

The experience made us take a hard look at how our RV operates. We have always used surge protection on the piano and computer, and unplugged both during thunderstorms. Now we are using more precautions and planning ways to build in more protection for the entire RV, all the time. Meanwhile, we unplug and go solar when storm clouds begin to roll.

A power surge is one experience we hope not to repeat!

"Flatter than a pancake"

A joint campout, what fun! Full of anticipation, we headed out last Friday for an extended weekend of camping.

It was a warm summer evening, free of the rain that has been the nightly routine for several weeks. We were admiring the scenery and commenting on the look of the various crops as we drove along.

About 15 miles north of Stettler, we both heard a “POP” and looked at each other. That was not a sound we were accustomed to hearing. A glance in the rear-view mirror revealed the situation – flat tire!

The highway was too narrow to stop, so we turned into a farm driveway. The lady was very nice, offering a cup of coffee and providing us with a civic address. A phone call to AMA assured us that someone would be coming to change the tire. We proceeded to wait – and wait – and wait.

Meanwhile, we watched as the farm owner made her evening rounds of her animals. One could easily tell they were all well looked after and loved. The donkey brayed, the horses watched, cats meandered across the yard, the dog was continually by her side.

Finally we received a call from the tire shop. They would be leaving shortly. Two hours after we stopped, the truck arrived and a pleasant, stubby young fellow quickly changed the tire for us. It was quite obvious that the blowout was a result of wear. That led to a big decision. Do we try to finish the trip on the spare, replace the damaged tire, or replace all the tires before another one blows?

We returned to Stettler for the night, and headed to the tire shop first thing in the morning. They had the correct tire size in stock and were able to work on it right away. An hour–and-a-half later we were on our way with four brand new tires on the RV. The accumulated air miles will come in handy for fuel certificates!

If it were to happen, which it would have sooner of later, it was a "best case scenario". We were safe, the weather was good, and there were no deadlines. Thank you, God, for watching over us. Thanks to our gracious hostess, and thanks for AMA+RV. Somehow that renewal notice doesn't look so expensive now.

Green is the color, football is the game

 As a child and teenager I paid no attention to the football season, Canadian or American.

That was before I became a resident of Regina. By the time training camp was over, it was obvious that to have any connection with the talk in the office, or anywhere else in Regina for that matter, some fundamental football knowledge was in order.

At that time, remembering the score was often sufficient. The Roughriders were not winning games. In fact, the crowd roused with excitement if the team escaped past their own end of the field! The quarterback was “J.J. Barnagel”, the sharing of halves between Joe Barnes and John Hufnagel. The prospect of any real news to cheer about was slim at best, but in Saskatchewan no one ever considered any other team. The 'Riders are owned by their fans. They were, and still are, the only professional sports team in the province.

After a few years of growing my roots into the die-hard following of the Roughriders, I had become a part of their “13th man,” an avid fan. It had nothing to do with the advent of Gainer the Gopher, but his rising stardom did not deter my enthusiasm.

There is a common saying that you can leave Saskatchewan, but you cannot leave the ’Riders. They are known to have more fans in more cities across Canada than any other team.

I had moved to Alberta by 1989, and my boss had visited Regina on a business trip. On my desk Monday morning was a package wrapped in a Regina Leader Post and tied with baler twine. It was my “stubble jumper kit” – T-shirt, pin and other ’Rider memorabilia. I asked if I could wear the shirt to work if the team won the Grey Cup. The answer was, “Yes.”

On Nov. 20, 1989, I wore my shirt and covered the walls with banners. It was the second Roughrider Grey Cup in history, and a time to celebrate!

I continue to be an avid Saskatchewan Roughrider fan. I follow the schedule and watch or listen to most of their games. I wear ’Rider gear. But I have never attended a game in person. In Regina days, we were always penny-pinching or busy hosting company. When we moved to Alberta I was promised a game but my husband, a chef, was usually working on weekends. Now his health problems preclude attending such an event.

Someday I hope to experience the excitement of cheering for my team with thousands of other fans at a game. In the meantime, I will continue to follow the Saskatchewan Roughriders and proudly wear my green and white! Go ’Riders!

"Green is the color. Football is the game.

We're all together and Winning is our aim.

So Cheer us on through the sun and rain.

Saskatchewan Roughriders is our name."

A funny thing happened at the wedding

Almost every bride I have ever met has wanted her wedding day to go smoothly. They desire perfection.

But life is not perfect. The spontaneous things that happen on a wedding day are what people are most inclined to remember. If you want some happy memories, be ready to react to everything with a smile.

I attended a wedding where, in the middle of the sermon, the groomsman fainted. He suddenly dropped backwards to the floor. While someone made sure he was okay, someone else fetched a chair. He sat on the chair beside the best man for the remainder of the ceremony.

At one outdoor wedding. the bride was standing in the archway at the top of the hill, ready to make her way to the “altar”. A whirlwind came just at that moment and lifted her headpiece and veil completely off her head! Without missing a beat, she grabbed it and carried on down the “isle”. I couldn’t help but wonder what she was silently thinking about the half hour she had just spent putting that headpiece in place.

I was entertaining on the keyboard at another outdoor wedding celebration when, again, a small whirlwind blew through. My music book blew down onto the keyboard, hitting the “demo” button. What an abrupt change of music style that was!

As I was playing the organ for a church wedding, I could see glimpses of the bridesmaids in the foyer, but nobody was moving into place to start proceeding up the isle. I improvised (and perspired a lot) for another twenty minutes before things began to happen. I later discovered that the bridal vehicle had had a flat tire on the way to the church. Even more interesting, it happened near my home and my brothers were the ones who helped the bride out of her dilemma, wondering all the time how little sister was managing the delay!

One wedding I was involved in was held on the Labour Day weekend. That is a weekend one can usually count on some decent weather, when many people enjoy a last camping trip for the summer. However, we woke up on the appointed morning to six inches of snow! The bridesmaids nearly froze in their spaghetti-strap dresses.

Perhaps the best/worst experience of playing for weddings was one held in the chapel of a university. The event had been planned as a small, quiet evening, but during the final week those plans grew. Three days before the wedding, I was asked to play the organ. Since I had some music somewhat prepared from previous occasions and could not think of a sufficient excuse, I agreed. I arrived early, only to discover that the organ would not switch on. Shortly before start time, some guys pushed in a piano from the hallway. Talk about “winging it”! With little visibility and only a hymn book for piano music, the wedding went on. It really is true that, generally, people don’t think of what the song is as long as there is music!

After observing these and other minor bloopers, I have learned that there is no reason to fear a special occasion. Memories are made from well-executed plans with hiccups.

Nerds and nice guys along the trail

Now that I have had my bicycle for a while, I’m building leg strength and becoming braver about where I ride.

Red Deer is known for its scenic trails, so while spending the weekend at the Lions Campground I decided to take a longer ride and try them out. What a pleasant surprise! The six km. round trip to Bower Ponds was so much fun, I retraced the route and went another 2.6 km. to Heritage Ranch and back. No doubt my muscles will remind me tomorrow.

Along the way were several sights I was not aware of before. Riding underneath the bridges was unique, with a couple corners one would not want to take too fast or one would land right in the river!

Then there was the old railway bridge, now a pedestrian/biking bridge. I went across and back just for the experience (it was not really part of my route).

Bower Ponds was bustling with people of every age – children in the playground, paddle boaters and canoeists, families watching the geese with their goslings, people just enjoying the view. Heritage Ranch was similarly busy.

However, there were a couple groups along the trail, the “nerds” of the day, who need to learn trail etiquette. Ringing a bell seemed to mean nothing and made the coming hill especially hard to climb. Parents, teach your children to stop when a bike passes, not run all over the trail! I was not the only one to apply the brakes and walk past them.

One jogger must have been listing to music, with no comprehension of his surroundings. Just as I stated to pass him, he veered left right into my path! The trails are for everyone, but some don’t seem to realize that they hinder the flow of traffic.

The opposite is also true. At one point I came upon three “nice guys” with skateboards, riding the hills. Their appearance would make an almost-senior wonder, but as I walked my bike past them on the bridge, they said hello and smiled. I was admiring the scenery at the end of the bridge before riding a sharp corner and descending a steep grade. As these guys came by, one turned and called, “We won’t hold you up on the hill!” And they certainly did not. My wheels were up to 36 km/hr, but they had already disappeared!

Another pair of “nice guys” on a tandem bike passed me as I stopped for some pictures. They graciously asked if I had a bike problem. That offer may have been welcomed earlier, when my chain jumped off the sprockets. But my cycling friend at work had briefed me on what to do in that situation, so I knew to stop pedaling immediately and the chain went back on without wedging tight.

Now I already looking forward to the next time we spend a weekend in the city so I can explore more of Red Deer’s scenic biking trails, avoid more “nerds” and meet more “nice guys”!

Merrily we roll along

I have always loved riding a bicycle. My first memories of bike riding are while sitting on the handlebars with my feet in the basket while my brother pedaled. While still in diapers, I would stand on the back of the tricycle, holding onto my brother, with a belt around us to hold me on while we rode.

The bike on which I learned to ride was a hand-me-down from my siblings with its best mileage long past, but to me it was the key to adventure. The best time of year for biking on the farm was late autumn, when the crop was harvested and well-worn tracks crossed the fields from the grain truck’s many trips. It was more appealing than circles around the farmyard, and it was safe.

When I finished business college and started a job in my hometown, my first major purchase was a bicycle. It was a three-speed beauty. I equipped it with the speedometer and headlight that I had bought with my weekly allowance for the old bike and rode around town every evening. Once a week or so I would ride the three miles to the farm, mow the lawn, and return to my boarding place in town.

I continued to use my bike through the first years of marriage, but when we moved to Regina, I sold it. City streets were not in my comfort zone.

Almost ten years later, we were living in a small town again and I was missing my bike. A friend gave me a bicycle that she never used. I quickly took to using it on a daily basis.

That bike moved with me to Alberta, where I used it for pleasure, for riding with my daughter, and for commuting to work. Eventually it wore out.

Another ten years went by before we took up our current lifestyle. I began thinking about a bicycle again. My kids found one at an auction last spring. It was worn, and not the correct size, but it showed me two things: I still enjoyed riding, and I would probably make good use of a bike. I promised myself to purchase a bicycle by April and ride it to work while parked at the Westerner Campground.

We moved to the campground on April 20 with no bike. On April 22 my husband took me to Edmonton, where I tried out a couple mountain bikes and a folding bicycle. I fell in love with the “foldie”.

No complaints of taking my bike, where to put it, or how inconvenient it is. I can fold my bike and put it in the hatch of my car!

The weather was wet, cold and windy during much of our stay, but I was able to ride to work for two or three days of each week. My Mother’s Day gift was a bicycle computer, and according to it, my new friend has taken me about 60 km. now. I don’t go as fast as I used to, but the pleasure is the same.

I anticipate many hours of riding along bike trails and through campgrounds, exploring each new surrounding. Merrily we will roll along!

Back to the Country

Yesterday I left the Westerner Campground with my car, bike inside, and went to work. At the end of the afternoon, I headed to the highway and to our friend’s acreage, where we will be parked for a week and help her with some spring work.

“You can take the girl from the farm, but you can’t take the farm from the girl”. I love being in the country – the quietness, the space, the beauty. Last night when the sun went down it was actually dark!

There are a few maintenance things to do on the RV while we are here, like re-organizing the basement, checking the solar panels and antenna, maybe even giving it a bath. Those are chores not permitted in most campgrounds.

I am eagerly anticipating next weekend, when we head out on our first road trip. It will be a well-earned break to go to the mountains for four days. Since resuming work in December, I have only taken three days off – Family Day, Victoria Day, and a day to drive Lyle to Lethbridge for an appointment. I am hoping for lots of sunshine while I lay back in the hot springs and relax!

When we return, it will be time to begin our yardsitting commitments. But that also means back to the country. I'm a happy camper!

P.S. Just found the video done by Tourism Red Deer in response to my win in the "Favorite places to visit in Red Deer" contest last summer. Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/embed/bNohzaze2WE

The pace of life quickens

The final month of housesitting has been somewhat of a blur.

Working at the Advocate, thirty hours each week in Advertising and another shift in Editorial, keeps one pretty busy already. But I was hoping to find a way to earn a few dollars for summer expenses. “Ask, and ye shall receive.”

First, I had a reply to a contact I had made a couple months previously. This resulted in a successful quote for typing an entire book so that it could be revised and re-published. I set aside a Saturday and did little else but sit at the computer and type – and completed the project by Sunday afternoon.

Then I received a text message one morning from a homeowner we had met last summer when we tended their yard and dogs. She was desperate for someone to stay with the dogs for four days while she flew to the Maritimes for a funeral. Lyle gladly obliged. He won’t admit it, but he seemed to enjoy the time with Rocky & Rusty.

The following week, I was again surprised by an email to type another book. This time the book was being published for the first time and most of the typing was from the handwritten manuscript. Not only that, but the timeline was extremely short. I again quoted successfully and spent an entire weekend rattling the keyboard.

By then it was moving time, but my goal had been accomplished! You could quite rightly call me a “happy camper”!

The long-awaited day of April 20 finally came, but even as it arrived there was uncertainty on whether it would be moving day.

Over the winter I had found a solution on the internet for a “fix” on a problem with the bedroom slide. We had followed the instructions to the detail, but the slide would no longer retract properly. Feeling the situation had gone beyond our expertise, the trailer was taken to a repair shop. An 11:00 a.m. phone call revealed that they had not worked on it yet. Could they do the adjustment so we could have it back?

By 3:30 p.m. the RV was ready to be picked up. How relieved and happy we were to be able to stay on schedule!

Now with moving and cleaning house behind us, we have settled into our home-on-wheels for a third season. It feels so good to be home!

The little tree that grew

If you were a child attending school in Western Canada in the ‘60s, you probably came home one day with a little evergreen sapling to be planted in your yard.

I remember the one I received. It was about six inches high with one or two little side branches and appeared to be closer to death than life. It was relinquished to the basement on the cool, damp floor until someone had time to help me plant it.

About a week later my mother took pity on me. We chose a suitable spot in the yard and followed the directions, digging a hole, forming a cone-shaped pile of dirt in the bottom, setting the sapling on the dirt and filling in the hole with more dirt. My assignment was to water the little thing every day, which I did faithfully.

By the following summer there was faint hope that the seedling might survive. Then came autumn, when a propane fill was ordered to provide our winter heat. As the big truck backed up from filling the tank it went a little too far, and as I watched I was sure my little tree would be crushed to the ground.

As soon as the truck left, I ran out to check. There stood my tree, totally unharmed. On each side of the trunk was a tire track. It had gone between the dual wheels!

One summer as I watered my tree I noticed an abundance of bugs, probably aphids, crawling over its branches. I told my mother, who promptly introduced me to the insecticide Malathion and how to apply it. It killed the insects and my tree again survived.

When it had reached about three feet in height, something happened to the top branch. One of the side branches began to grow upwards, and after a few more seasons the damage was undetectable.

I still look at my tree each time I visit the home farm (above photo taken 2011). But now I look up to its towering stature. It reminds me of pleasant memories and bygone days. It is still regarded as Edith's tree.

Supporting a mobile lifestyle

Since the title of this blog site is “Of work and travel in a mobile lifestyle” and my latest blogs have focused on the travel aspect, this time I will describe the work by which my husband and I are able to continue to be full-time RVers.

Throughout the summer much of our time is taken up in yardsitting. We have friends who travel quite extensively and like to know their acreages are secure, the mail picked up, garden tended and the lawn mowed while they are away. We park in the yard and enjoy the quietness and scenery while tending the yard in exchange for power and water for our RV. We try to make the labour a fair exchange for what we save in camp site fees.

Last summer we did a similar stint for a lovely couple we met through www.housecarers.com, the same web site through which we found our winter housesitting arrangement. Currently, our 2012 schedule is fairly booked until mid- August.

Our yardsitting and camping radius is within an hour’s drive from Red Deer. That enables me to commute to my regular job in Red Deer. There I work at the Red Deer Advocate. Four days of the week involve data entry of display advertising bookings and creating “dummies”, the first step in producing a newspaper. On the fifth day I head to the newsroom, where I post the stories from the newspaper to the Advocate web site and upload pictures taken by the photographers to the online photo store. The procedure is routine but the interaction with coworkers about the issues of the day is stimulating. I often describe my work as “I play on a computer and read the news. What’s not to like?”

My work day is similar to other employees, but home is not always in the same direction and I don’t have to pack up to “go camping”. When vacation time comes there is little preparation necessary to be ready to take to the road. The biggest decision is which direction to travel and for how long. Vacation is really just different scenery while staying at home.

As we travel to and fro, time passes quickly. It is hard to believe we are headed into the third summer of our dream!

Your autograph, please...

In my quest for blog ideas in the midst of writer's block, I found one written when I was sorting and downsizing in preparation for RV life. In light of the fact that I just had another birthday, this warrants another glimpse into the past.

Today I uncovered an old treasure. It may have been a Christmas gift because many of the entries were dated in late December. It was full of names from my childhood. Page after page, I recognized the handwriting of so many people who are no longer part of my life. It was a reminder of a time when every kid had an autograph book, along with a repertoire of rhymes to use when writing in their friends’ books.

Wikipedia describes the autograph book as “a book in which one collects the autographs of others. Traditionally, these books would include small pieces of verse, personal messages, poems and drawings from one’s friends. Yearbooks, friendship books, and guest books are modern derivations.”

The fun started on the cover:

      “You have room for your friends, you have room for your lover,

        But poor little me has to write on the cover.”

The pages were of various pastel colours, and one writer had sought out a blue page. She wrote, “May you never be the color of this page.”

Some of the entries were cute and catchy:

      “Snow on the mountain, sun can’t melt it.

      I like you, I can’t help it.”

      “I wish I were a bunny with a little tail of fluff,

      I’d hop up on your dresser and be your powder puff.”

      “Piggy, piggy, up a tree,

      Pull its tail and think of me.”

Other writers used the opportunity to give advice:

      “In your golden chain of memories, please consider me a link.”

      “When the golden sun is setting in the west

      And this earth you no longer trod,

      May your name in gold be written

      In the autograph of God.”

      “Help a friend in trouble but remember all the while

      What you do counts double if you do it with a smile.”

An entry by my grandmother, written in her immaculate handwriting, caught my attention:

      “Labour for learning before you grow old,

      For learning is better than silver or gold,

      For silver and gold will vanish away,

      But a true education will never decay.”

Then there were the P.S. entries written below the person’s name:

      “Yours ’til I.D.K.”

      “Yours ’til the ocean wears rubber pants to keep its bottom dry.”

      “Yours ’til Great Bear Lake has cubs.”

Even the back cover was not left out. “By hook or by crook I’ll be last in your book,” was followed by, “By ham or by bacon you’re badly mistaken.”

There was no deep meaning to most of the content, no elaborate graphics to enhance the page. Certainly none of the writers thought the book would be kept for so long.

For a few minutes, I revelled in memories of friends and family and their trivial entries in a young child’s autograph book.

Remembering Gus

My brother-in-law, Gus, had never been sick in his life. So when he appeared to have the flu and was not well within a couple weeks, my sister was concerned. He attended the walk-in clinic, was home in an hour with paperwork for more tests, and by the next morning was in the hospital where surgeons removed a burst appendix and a cancerous tumor.

The following months were full of appointments and chemo treatments while working a new job. As time passed and the tumors grew the decisions grew tougher, from further treatments to palliative care. Gus died on February 2, exactly one year after that first visit to a doctor.

Gus was all life. My sister refers to him as her “all or nothing man”. He was salesman to the core, enthusiastic about anything he did. He once financed a family trip across Canada by stopping in each city and selling door viewers. He was pleased to even sell one to a blind man.

He was especially passionate about books. His slogan in the publishing business was “Helping others tell their story”. He had assisted over 400 authors publish their story in book form. Last fall we were privileged to host my sister and brother-in-law in our RV while he attended his publishing booth at a writer’s conference. It was his last “well” weekend.

Last week our family gathered in Winnipeg to attend the memorial service and to celebrate Gus’ life. It was a bitter-sweet time. Visiting with family was delightfully encouraging, but there were constant reminders of the one missing.

There was the usual reminiscing about the goofy things Gus would say. Every day was “Happy Monday (or any other day of the week). As the pastor remarked, when asked if the cup was half full or half empty Gus would probably reply, “Who cares? Do I get to keep the cup?”

Visits always included a tour. Because of Gus, I am more familiar with the cities of Vancouver, Edmonton, Winnipeg, and Belleville. I’ll always remember my afternoon with him to see how far he could drive along the 49^th parallel. We ended up at the end of a dirt trail in a farmer’s field, but not without passing several border markers.

I will be forever grateful to my brother-in-law for taking pity on a lonely farm kid thrust into the city after high school by providing activities to distract from homesickness, even if he drew the line at spending money on me! He was a “people person”, always interested in what was happening in others’ lives.

Gus planned his own memorial service, where we heard his story backwards from the “afterword” to the “introduction”. Each song was about words, the Story, and The Word of God. One could feel the faith and courage that had kept his spirit strong. Life here on earth won’t be the same without him, but because of Jesus’ death and resurrection we know we will meet again.

RV addiction surfaces in show season

Who attends an RV show? Unless I am looking to buy an RV, why bother going?

The answers to those questions would vary with each person you ask. That’s because there are lots of reasons to attend an RV show and many people who enjoy them. Whether you go camping with a tent or drive a diesel pusher, there are always more things to learn. If you have never tried camping, it is a good place to gain insight as to why some people enjoy it so much.

The obvious stars of the show are the RVs. They are the latest models, and keep one up to date on layouts and innovations. There are pop-ups, travel trailers, fifth wheels and motorhomes.

There may be a distant look on the faces of many viewers. Those folks are probably the avid RVers who are dreaming about the coming camping season. They are growing anxious to be out in their home on wheels.

But there is much more to an RV show than the vehicles. The “trade show” booths cover a variety of topics: RV clubs, travel destinations, waste system products, protective coatings, insurance, and more. Company representatives will provide accurate, up-to-date information on their products or camping destinations.

The RV show is where you discover the latest gadgets for living in a small space. Just when you think you’ve seen it all, something new will come on the market. Most accessories are available at special show pricing, so it is a great time to accumulate some items on a wish list.

The larger shows, such as those in Edmonton or Calgary, feature “Lifestyle Theatre” seminars as well. Presentations are about 30 minutes long, making for a nice rest amid viewing the units. Topics cover solar panels, towing and hitch weights, RV Safety, customs information, travel destinations, and even the correct procedure for dumping tanks.

Meeting other RVers and sharing stories is always fun, and there are plenty of opportunities to do so at any RV show. Whether it is with a display host or with other attendees, there are always questions to be answered and ideas to share. Why make all the mistakes yourself when lessons can be learned from the experience of others?

 The current season of RV shows is in full swing. See you at the show!

Where new adventures begin…part 2

Remember the link I found to http://www.50plus.com/travel/new-years-resolutions-for-travellers/100887/? My imagination continues to ramble through the list as we consider plans for another mobile summer. Here are my thoughts on a few more suggestions:

Visit a World Heritage Site. In Central Alberta terms, this would be a National Historic Site. The park at Rocky Mountain House would be a good start. We discussed it last year but never went, so this would be a good summer to carry through on that. Last summer we took in the Reynolds-Alberta Museum in Wetaskiwin and the Remington-Alberta Carriage Centre in Cardston.

Cross a border. With the dollar close to par and several things on our “wish list”, we have been considering a trip to the U.S. for some time. There are friends we have not seen for many years that we would love to surprise with a visit. We would like to venture through the Black Hills, where we honeymooned 35 years ago. When the realities of budgets and time are considered, though, this one will stay on hold.

Travel vicariously with a book or movie. In the leisure time of rainy days in summer or snowy days in winter, there’s nothing like curling up with a good book or watching a favorite movie. Sometimes we connect the computer to the television and surf our dream adventures. “Streets and Trips” plots the road route with the mileage and time of the trip, the internet provides campground information to plan stopovers, and “Google Earth” or “Google Maps” give a good idea of the topography to expect. My computer contains the plans for many trips we may, or may not, take. But we have been there virtually.

Thank you, http://www.50plus.com/, for providing a list to keep me dreaming.

Baby, it's cold outside!

During the first couple months of housesitting this season, I had comments made to me from time to time about the warmer-than-usual weather we were enjoying. Most were to the effect of, “Well, you could have spent the winter in your RV in this weather!” to which I would reply, “But in Alberta you never know.”

I credit the commenters for their optimism, but the current cold snap has abruptly reminded us of why we store our home on wheels, even though it is “winterized”, and spend the winter months in a traditional house. It is not about the space, it is the weather.

It would not be impossible to stay in our RV through the entire year. Others do it. But when we compare the potential catastrophe factor and the unpredictable costs, housesitting wins. Here we can budget known utility expenses and have a garage to shelter our vehicle. We save the expense of insulated trailer skirting, metered electricity, campground fees, and unknown quantities of propane dependent on the weather. There are no hoses to insulate, no pipes to burst.

Perhaps in retirement years we will travel to a warmer climate, but while working in Central Alberta we will continue to do the shuffle. It doesn’t take a great deal of time to pull up to the curb and move a few clothes and groceries. It also gives opportunity to use larger appliances, like a standard refrigerator and a stove with oven capacity for more than six buns or a dozen muffins at a time.

And there is nothing that makes the decision look wiser than peering at a sheltered thermometer registering -36C. Baby, it’s cold outside!