My seven days of Christmas...

are the first seven days of December.  While these seven days do not involve what "my true love gave to me", because I don't HAVE a true love, they do reflect what I saw, heard, touched, did and felt.

On the FIRST day of December, my witching SIL and I did another volunteer gig again at Daly Point Nature Reserve, but as Winter Witches this time, in a fundraiser for our local SPCA.  It was called Santa Pawz. People brought their pets to have his/her picture taken with Santa.  Since I am so NOT shy, I had no trouble roping in a newly arrived immigrant family of five, who have only been in Canada a little over a month, to come in to have their FIRST picture taken with Santa, even if they DIDN'T have a pet. We welcomed them to Canada with heartfelt hugs. It was a TRULY beautiful and heartwarming moment.

On the SECOND day of December, I was walking Vimy on a cold morning, when suddenly this little chihuahua came out of nowhere, dashing up to Vimy, and barking at him furiously.  Just as suddenly a man appeared on his back porch and started yelling at his dog to get away.  This man was bare chested, wearing only bright, red Santa motif pyjama bottoms, slung w...a....y too low on his hips. OMG!  Not only had he forgotten to get dressed, he had forgotten his teeth, because I could tell from the way he was yelling at his dog, that his was no ordinary lisp. The faster Vimy and I walked, the faster that pooch ran after us, and the more his owner yelled at him.  I hustled away chuckling and shaking my head.  That was a TRULY sorry sight!

On the THIRD day of December, (which if you believe all media hype, was designated "Giving Tuesday!"),I decided to be an elf, and sans costume, I helped out a fellow colleague who was feeling overwhelmed with the demands of our profession.  I spent an hour and a half photocopying booklets for her.  It was a mindless, but necessary task that freed her up to do more important things in her classroom and for her students.  Not all gifts have a pricetag, nor are they bought on Black Friday. :) TRUE story.

By the FOURTH day of December, I had been told by more than three people that they would be alone this Christmas. That is heartbreaking! 💔 No one should be alone on Christmas day.  It isn't JUST another day.  Who doesn't have room for one more person around the table for Christmas dinner? How TRULY sad.

On the FIFTH day of December.... my friend and I had so much fun running around, shopping and buying items on a child's wish list for this Christmas. He's not very demanding, this little 10 year old fellow.  He needs a winter jacket and gym pants, and asked for a Fidgit Spinner.  Heavens, they are passé. We bought him a brand new snowsuit, TWO Fidgit
Spinners, treats, a game and the latest little fad toy, a Tech Deck.  Imagining HIS joy upon opening his 
Christmas presents, is THE biggest thrill of all, for me and my partner in the spirit.  ALL represent the TRUE meaning of Christmas. 

On the SIXTH day of December, I replaced a Kindergarten teacher, knowing ahead of time that I would continue preparing her students for the upcoming Christmas concert.  I got to coax them along in their song, "One little, two little, three little Reindeer", and prompt them with their bell ringing.  PURE, PURE heaven! I wish I could show you the video of the practice.  I shouldn't even be paid for this privilege. TRULY MAGICAL!

On the SEVENTH day of December, I went to buy tickets for "Comment le Grinch a volé Noël!", a superior production put on by a local dance company. I will be taking my mother next Sunday.  The songs are in English, but the spoken is in French. How VERY representative of  New Brunswick, as Canada's only officially bilingual province, and of course, TRULY unique!

J'adore 💖💖💖💖 le mois de décembre! 

Am I the only one FED UP...

with having to line-up all the time?  I don't mind lining-up, or queuing as the British would say, when it is necessary, but I consider it a total waste of my precious left on THIS earth, to line-up for NO good reason at all.  Here is my case in point with the following story.  

I had persuaded a recently widowed friend of mine, to come to the movies with me. She is so frail that a strong wind would knock her over, so I left her at the door, and went to park Jiminy.

Now at the theatre box office there were two employees, with a rope separating each queue to each employee.  My friend had already been waiting long enough and had let other people ahead of her, while waiting for me.  When I got there, there was a young lady ahead of us, and one movie goer at the counter.   Suddenly, in the left hand queue, there was no one. Did this young lady go to that counter? NO! She just stood there waiting patiently for our queue to move.  I had just taped her on the shoulder to ask her politely to move over to the employee who was free, when six people waltzed in and went right to that counter.

By the time this millennial had turned around in answer to my tap, it was too late and I asked her very politely why she hadn't moved ahead.  I spoke out of concern mainly for my friend, who really didn't need to be queueing up this long.  The young lady smiled and waved us ahead of her, telling us she wasn't in any hurry. OBVIOUSLY!  I think she was waiting for someone and should have stepped out of line, don't you think?

Anyway, after we purchased our tickets I went back to her and whispered quietly, in French, "Thank you for letting us through.  When you get to be our age, you don't have the patience for line-ups."  I was just offering a little bit of self deprecating humour, by way of thanking her.  Her response?  "I see that!  Man, I am not in any hurry to grow old!" ("Ouais, je vois ça!  J'ai pas hâte de vieillir!")

OMG! I was a bit gobsmacked, but her remark made me chuckle to no-end as I walked away. How ironic is it that when we are young, we want to grow up and when we are old, we wish we were young again. 

She might as well have said "OK, BOOMER!"  Oh...there's that catchy phrase again, apparently symbolic of intergenerational conflict?  😀😀😀

When something doesn't FEEL right...

listen to that voice in your head, or that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, or just your instinct that tells you YOU shouldn't be doing this.

Of course, I totally ignored ALL these aforementionned indices, when I offered someone a lift a few weeks ago.

It was a horribly cold and windy day.  The person wasn't well dressed and was trudging along against the wind, with their hands deep in their pockets. I couldn't tell if the person was a man or woman, from the back.  I hesistated momentarily, before deciding to pull ahead anyway, stop, roll down my window, and ask if they wanted a lift home.

I have done this many times before. I don't usually offer men a lift, unless they are REALLY quite elderly, and are carrying heavy grocery bags.  It is a sad fact that women traveling alone can be vulnerable, so why take any chances.  Besides, if you are a young, able bodied male, you can walk. It won't kill you.

The person bent over, peered into my open window and stated "No, I live right here.  I don't need a lift. But do you have $10.00 to give me?"

Excuse me????  I don't mind being a free taxi, but I kind of draw the line at being a free bank. I replied in the negative, saying I was off to visit my mother, and took my leave as quickly as I could.

However, what botherd me more than being hit upon for money, is NOT knowing whether the person who spoke to me was a man OR a woman.  I s*t*i*l*l don't know. I couldn't tell at all. Is this what we call non-binary? In my day, we would have said an "androgenous'' look, like Boy George? I have seen this person a few times since, walking on the side of 
the road, or hanging on a street corner by the train station.  I STILL don't know if "they" are male or female.

Sometimes this world we live in today is just TOO hard to understand for this white-haired grandmother.  I can just see Millennials rolling their eyes right this minute and saying "OK Boomer!"  

Kindness is a TWO way street.

The random act of kindness I witnessed recently, had more than one person leaving the scene with a HUGE smile on their face. J

I had been out all afternoon, and was returning from a Scrabble game with my darling Mamacita, when I decided to stop in at the pharmacy to pick up a parcel.  Of course, the twenty minutes I had decided to be out walking Vimy, was when Canada Post had tried to deliver said parcel to me, and since it was now forty eight hours later, I HAD to go pick up the parcel there.

Vimy was with me in the car.   I hated leaving him, but I didn't want to double back.  So I lowered all my car windows a bit and left him inside Jiminy, hoping he wouldn't bark TOO much.  Vimy that is, NOT Jiminy.  

I entered the pharmacy and proceeded towards the postal counter. To my great dismay, there was a HUGE line-up... at least SIX people.  Hey, in Atlantic Canada, half a dozen people lined up qualifies as a major obstacle!

From where I had joined the queue,  I could see clear to Jiminy in the parking lot, and was already fretting about how much time my pooch would be locked in the car, while I stood in line.  I could see that there was some kind of hold-up at the counter. Nothing and no one, was moving. There was this tall student, chatting on his cell phone, but wandering out of the line, ahead of  me.  I decided to go into pro-ACTIVE mode right then and there, as time was awasting.  I proceeded to STEP ONE. 

I asked the handsome young man, very nicely, in French, if he was lined up, and if he WAS, he needed to stay in line, and not wander off. "Qui va à la chasse, perd sa place!", I admonished him, but ever so nicely, flashing him a huge smile.  The look he gave me was priceless, but he towed THE line, and got back IN line, all the while continuing to chat on his phone.

I then asked the woman in line in front of him, if she knew why there was a holdup at the counter.  Obviously NOT a hold-up with a gun, kind of hold-up. She informed me that the the computer had broken down, she thought, adding she had been waiting at least fifteen minutes?  It turns out, she just needed a stamp.

Well, I could be PRO-ACTIVE here as well.  I immediately proceeded to STEP TWO!   I pulled out my wallet, and handed her a stamp.  The look on her face was priceless TOO!  "Was I sure I wanted to give her a stamp?  Could she pay me for it?" were some of her questions.   I  assured her more than once that "No, I didn't want payment.": "Yes, I wanted her to have the stamp."   I am sure that woman thanked me at least THREE times, if not more. I told her that she could repay me by "paying it forward."   She handed in her stamped envelope and scampered off happily, with a parting "thank you again."

As for me, I was quasi ecstatic!  I was THAT second person with a big smile on my face.  Not only because I had made someone happy, but also because there was now one LESS person in line! I was thinking of seeing how I could help the person in line ahead of her, when believe it or not, the line suddenly started moving, and within five minutes, I had picked up my parcel and was on my way.  I like to think that the powers that be ABOVE appreciated my small gesture of kindness and decided to fix the technology that hadn't been working. 

You know, you will meet three kinds of people in life.  "Those who make things happen, those who let things happen, and those who stand around wondering "What the H?%& happened?"  I imagine you know where I fall. 😉😉😉 

THE CIRCLE OF LIFE

I was reminded very poignantly of this "Circle of Life" recently.  

The Cathedral was quite full on a sunny, and blustery late October afternoon.  We had all come to pay our respects to a recently deceased one hundred and two year old man.  102 years old! Yes, you read that correctly. 

His name was Elmer and he was my neighbour's father.  He was born during WW1 and served in WW2, in the North Shore Regiment. He returned home, married, had four children and retired from the paper mill here, after forty-two years of employment.  By all intents and purposes, a full and meaningful life. There is a lot of living to be done in over a century.  Imagine ALL the extraordinary changes he witnessed in his lifetime.   

His life was also extraordinary for another reason.  Why, you may ask?  It is because Elmer served his country, and was prepared to die, at the age of twenty three.  He was ready to make the ultimate sacrifice, so that we could live freely.  Now that is truly EXTRAORDINARY.    

His daughter, who gave his "eulogy", spoke briefly, but very eloquently about her father. This is what she said,and I am paraphrasing her words.

"My father did not want a eulogy.  I cannot begin to try to tell you about my father's life in five minutes, but I do want to share a story that he told me and my two siblings, a mere three weeks ago.  He seldom shared his memories of the war, but that day, he pulled a piece of paper from his wallet. We had never seen this piece of paper.  Father proceeded to tell us that a Sergeant came into their barracks, while they were stationed and awaiting deployment during WW2, asking for three volunteers to wash the floor of the barracks. The Sergeant then proceeded to point out three volunteers, my father being one of them. 

While washing the floor, he saw this piece of paper on the floor and picked it up. It was a picture of a Saint, but some of the printing had faded and he couldn't make out the name. He was however, able to read the caption underneath, which said, "Bénissez ma route."  "Bless my path."  

Elmer pocketed that picture and now, seventy-two years later, shared it with his children, telling them that he HAD indeed, been blessed his entire life.

A short and simple story, but it tells us volumes about the man, does it not?  

Elmer was accompanied to his forever home, by an Honour Guard from the Royal Canadian Legion.  There was a very solemn, touching dedication and special ceremony at the end of the funeral, as befitting a veteran of the Second World War. Elmer had arrived at his "Last Post."

While I knelt and prayed for this brave centennarian, my thoughts were also elsewhere, with other people in this big, wonderful and democratic country we live in.

Every day children are born into this world, where complications at birth make their future uncertain. Parents may or may not get to hold, love and nuture this new life they have brought into the world. The heartache is unimaginable. Those children and parents need our thoughts and prayers as well. 

Life itself is a miracle.  Life is also a circle, interwoven beginnings and endings.  For some it is a long way to the end, and for others, barely a glimpse.  What a privilege we human beings have, to live, to love and to be loved.   

 Monday is Remembrance Day.  Lest we forget. 

  

Another unsolved mystery?

Normally, I love receiving gifts.  I am always thankful and appreciative, no matter how big, small, expensive or inexpensive the gift is.  However, this latest gift I received, IF it is a gift, has left me feeling more than a little ambivalent, quite confused and totally in the dark, actually.

I returned from celebrating a birthday weekend, to find the following package in my mailbox. Now this mailbox is not my Canada Post one; it is just a box wall mounted by my front door. 

This package of two butane lighters, President's Choice brand, was not wrapped, nor did it it have anything at all attached to it, or any markings.  I was immediately curious as to who would have left what was really an odd gift, so I set out to find out the giver, to thank them. The giver would have to have known that a) I don't have a BBQ, and b) I only use these lighters to light my candles.  Not many people would even know that.

Well, forty eight hours later, messages I had sent, coupled with texts and phone calls, still had not revealed the giver.  I had asked all my closest friends, and many family members, if they had left these lighters in my mailbox. I even checked with neighbours, to see if they had been expecting these items to have been left in their box. The responses were all negative. 

It was the next evening, and a thread I started on Messenger with my brothers, lead to such comments as, "Maybe someone is telling you they want to burn your house down."  Bad joke from my jokster brother. Another brother warned me that that was very dangerous, as drug addicts could be roaming my neighbourhood, checking for items they could steal to support their habit, and butane lighters were very dangerous. What? This is Bathurst, not Edmonton.  I don't doubt we have our own social problems, but this kind of speculation was a stretch.  

However, I was beginning to get upset, as it was late in the evening, I hadn't slept well, and as a woman who lives alone, for the first time I felt a little vulnerable.  It WAS ridiculous to feel that way, but... I think my youngest brother sensed this, and bless his heart, added this to the thread, "Maybe someone thinks you are a hottie!"  Well, that was totally ludicrous, but it made me laugh out loud, laugh at the situation, and laugh at myself. 

A good friend who had been perturbed by my inquiry, and had sensed my growing frustration, dropped in to see me the next day, worried that I was flipping out on this conundrum.  

Thankfully, a good night's sleep gave me a brighter perspective. I put the package in my camping gear box and resolved to not give it a moment's thought.  Obviously, I HAVE, because I am blogging about it, but I have accepted that I will probably NEVER know why this package of lighters was left in my box.  

One last thought has me thinking that maybe the giver was rattled by my questioning, so much so that he/she is afraid to own up, since I did tell one person that if I found out they had lied to me, I was going to kill them. That wasn't very nice of me, was it? :)  

Back at it again!

Yep! Back to being a witch, back to blogging and back to teaching. I know! I know! I am supposed to be retired, but teachers need kids and kids need teachers.  Besides, they keep me young and silly!  It's just that I have been having such a good time these last four months, I haven't had time to sit down and write anything.

I haven't been TOTALLY idle though.  I have been collecting little stories, quotes, questions and answers from the children with whom I have come into contact in the last six months.  As always, the words they speak are gems, not only because they often make me laugh, but also because these words are free of guile, hypocrisy, meanness, or untruth. Imagine! We adults have a lot to learn from kids. 

As a supply teacher, I often have to remind students that I am NOT their regular teacher, and that if they, while trying to be helpful, keep telling me what Mr. or Mrs. would be doing, I am not able to do my job to the best of my ability... yada, yada, yada.  I have to repeat this little "pep talk", more than once in the primary grades, while adding that unless someone is going to be hurt by my possible ineptitude (LOL), they must refrain from telling me what to do.

All was well in one Grade One French Immersion, one morning, until little Eric raised his hand and said, quietly, '"Madame, we were supposed to be in gym five minutes ago.”  O-O-P-S! 

I was asked how to spell "filet" by a little one in Grade One.  I hadn't understood his word, so I replied, "Pardon me?"  He nodded and started to write down "pardon me."  

I told a tiny little five year old in Kindergarten, that I was amazed that she could ALREADY read at an F/G level, which is far advanced. She looked at me very seriously with huge blue eyes, and stated matter of factly, with a lisp, "I am bery smwart!  I know everything." 

After I had yawned a few times in mid afternoon, little Mandy asked "Madame, did you slept last night?" 

In French Immersion, I had to laugh at one little one in Grade Three who told me, in good Acadian patois, that "Il y a "aink" deux personnes absents."  One student to another in the same class, "Ça c'est TON faute!" 

I asked an elementary class, "What do you say when it is the end of the week?"  "Yeah?" replied one with hesitation.  I was looking for TGIF.  LOL  A bit too early for that vocabulary, I guess. 

A three dimensional cone was being assembled, in Grade One, when I asked the assembler if he could improve on his work.  He came back a few minutes later and informed that he had INDEED, "made it gooder!" 

In a class of eleven students, I had the hardest time keeping the three students' names' straight, and pronouncing them correctly: one was Émilie in French,  the other Emily in English, and Amélie, with an A. Back in the day, there used to be three Jennifers in a class.

While trying to settle a dispute at recess, between three students in Kindergarten, where one had apparently been hurt by another, a fourth one joined in and stated, "Dylan and Caleb are trying to FRAME Andy."

While waiting for the last late bus I asked little Logan in Grade One, where he lived. His reply?  "It's not far. It's IN Canada."

Again, waiting for that last late bus, two little ones amused themselves with dandelions, by going up to each other and saying, "My mother had a baby, and her head POPPED off!", and popping off the dandelion head as they recited the ditty.  Gees, what happened to holding a buttercup under your friend's chin, to see if they liked butter? That is what WE did in school. After three days of this, a little girl in Kindergarten, hearing once again the chant about the baby's head popping off, looked at me quizically, and asked, 'How did THAT happen?"  Poor thing, they take things literally.  I had to reassure her that no baby's head had popped off. 

Last comments by a few getting on their bus at the end of the day - "See you later, crocodile! " Another student, 'You're an OLD teacher!" 

Kindergartener: Madame, do you know how many minutes in an hour?"  "You tell me.", I replied.  His reply?  "One!", stated with great confidence.  

Chase, in Kindergarten, lost the letter "e" he had cut out, to finish pasting the four letters to make the word "come."  He looked up at me and said, very philosophically, "The "e" is silent anyway."  What a smart little fellow!

One Friday afternoon in art class in Grade Two French Immersion, I found something a student had done rather funny, and I couldn't stop chuckling, albeit quietly.  One little girl noticed and said to me with a big smile, "Ah Madame, you are such a GIGSTER!"  

Here is hoping you all get a chance to be "gigsters."