Our intrepid correspondent in Toronto has been on a recent visit to see her family on this side of the pond and posted this special report while she was here.
BATTLE OF BRITAIN REVISITED
LAST OCTOBER, while visiting family, I was lucky enough to be in Pickering on the very weekend they were holding a "Railway in Wartime" re-enactment. The Battle of Britain fell on the very same dates, October 11-13, 1940. Imagine the scene: we arrived at the railway station in heavy rain to be greeted by a group of "soldiers" in khaki pouring out towards us. It was enough to take your breath away and wonder whether you were really in 2013 or had done a "Dr Who" in some timewarp machine! Entering the Station we came upon men, women and children wearing 1940s outfits: the "snoods" and turbans, the saucy little tilt hats, the skimpy skirts; men in wide-brimmed trilbies; the very shoes of 73 years ago, plus of course the inevitable gas-masks.
The cafeteria staff looked completely authentic, too, (albeit serving coffee in styrofoam cups, and not alas offering 1940s prices). On the opposite platform a man and a young woman sang wartime hits: "Don't sit under the apple-tree" (remember the Andrews Sisters?), "We'll meet again", and suchlike well-remembered Dame Vera classics. (Oh, gosh! Now I'm really giving my age away, aren't I?) At one point a shady-looking character - undoubtedly a Black-marketeer - was being arrested by two "Bobbies". However, the high point of the day was the arrival of the steam-train - a fully-functioning service run by the North Yorkshire Moors Railway Company and operating between Pickering and Grosmont. (I believe it was running to Whitby on that particular day.) They (the NYMR) are fundraising to maintain the most popular engine of all: Number 3672, the "Dame Vera Lynn", who Christened her in 1985. She (the engine, not Dame Vera by the way) "...was originally built for the war effort in 1943-44 and was used in Europe and the Middle East following D-Day. Its post-war years were spent in Greece..." ref. "North Riding Chronicle", October 2013, which contains a detailed day-by-day account of events, October 11-13 1940, including Bomber Command reports. Fascinating stuff but rather sad, too; although I have to say that I'm glad and rather proud to have lived through those years. I'm also happy that I grew up with steam travel. One of my earliest memories is of my Grandfather taking me as a toddler in a pushchair to the railway bridge, where steam-snorting monsters huffed and puffed beneath us. No wonder I still get emotional when I see one
WINTER WOES:
I was going to talk about the terrible winter we here in South-central Ontario are having. Then I learned of the appalling flooding over there in some parts of the country. Now I think how lucky we are! However, as you may have heard, we're having the worst in many years, with weeks of very low temperatures, e.g. -30C with the "windchill factor", plus ice and a goodly dumping of snow. On the night of December 21-22 we had an atrocious ice-storm. Now, many years ago, before I left the U.K., a visitor told us about one of these storms which, happily, are not frequent - this being the first in about 50 years - and I recall an account of the pretty trees sparkling with ice.
Now I've seen this picturesque spectacle with my own eyes, and it was the only good thing about the phenomenon. Trees hung low, their sturdy branches snapping like twigs, burdened down by heavy layers of ice, and many have had to be felled. Telegraph wires sagged and broke loose, trailing on the ground, and some 300,000 households were left without power. If you were lucky (as was I) the power cut lasted only for a matter of hours, the less fortunate groped and shivered their way through Christmas and New Year. Local government opened "warming centres" around the City, and happy those who had friends and relatives with a warm home and (Oh, bliss!) gas cooking. Of course, many kilos of frozen food were lost - a terrible waste and loss of money. And it was no fun chipping about 1/4" of ice off the car, I can tell you!
However, people rallied round, as they so often do in a crisis - total strangers commiserating with one another in the supermarket, exchanging experiences and offering help. A nice hot shower became, for some, the best gift under the tree! We take so much for granted. When the power goes off everything is dead, and an eerie silence suddenly prevails. It's scary! On a lighter note, every February 2nd is "Groundhog Day" when a certain furry little creature (namely "Wiarton Willie") is supposed to emerge from his winter sleep, take a look around, and if he sees his shadow on the snow, winter will last another 6 weeks. HE always does and IT always does anyway, so it's just a piece of living folklore I suppose you could say. Well, according to the calendar it's only 32 days to spring. So let's hold that thought!
The following are extracts from the blogs of John Wood, a former youngster in this area, before leaving on his world travels.
Trials of Old Age
The Protestant ethic is a hard shadow to cast off. It invades our life from an early moment when we become faced with the problem of doing something others feel we should.
From making a success at school to succeeding in the work place there is always pressure to be doing something with our time. The urge to fill every second with something meaningful, usually someone else's definition of meaningful, provokes a sense of guilt whenever one is chilled out doing nothing. Of course one is not doing nothing rather one is not doing what someone else thought we should be doing, usually manifesting its self in actions that are visible. But what of the actions which are invisible, the stuff that goes on between the ears, the mental stuff.
Get up early and be active is the refrain, a healthy body is a healthy mind, don't let the minutes tick away they will be lost forever, make the most of the time you have left and so on and so forth.
To be active and ridicule inactivity is the modern mantra how can one progress, earn a living, or be accepted by society if you don't conform.
Tonight my little grey cells were vibrating like mad as I watched the film 'Amour'. A brilliantly made poignant film of old age and the tragic journey made by an octogenarian couple who face the trauma of one of the couple struck down with paralysis and dementia. The classic story of the disintegration of all that pride and reserve holds dear, the ability to control our bodily functions, to communicate, to keep that poise which we attribute to who we were slowly dissembles. The women suffers the paralysis, whilst the man, himself old and increasingly feeble tries to meet each stage of the trauma with love and a practicality brought by need.
Life is nothing other than a vale of tears best endured by honesty, love, unremitting work and a frank recognition of its essential tragic nature.
http://twocents2012.blogspot.com.au/
Tiptoes into Buddhism
The world is a rich tapestry of events and interrelationships.
The marvellous documentaries put out by the BBC on the Oceans and the myriad organisms living in our seas. A world of breathtaking beauty, and of immeasurable complexity. The Savannah's of Africa with its multitude of life form evolved to cope with the excesses of living and dying, side by side, moment to moment. The majestic elephant, tied (as we are) to a life long family relationship which has the pathos of an old age, something many animals don't experience. The pecking order (sic) of the vulture, the organisation and the energy of the ant, the grace and unique evolution of the giraffe, the alert, sensitive springbok and, amongst them all mankind with his hobnailed boot oblivious to the damage he causes, crashing about with a force enhanced by the ability to kill at a distance. As we grow up we are bound by our upbringing to believe that everything serves our purpose as we crash around looking for stimulation.
The need to look under the stone comes later when less sure of our infallibility we turn to questioning!! Rich though it all is, what is the purpose, are there any rules and what at the end is the outcome. For many much of this is simplified by subverting oneself to a faith in a deity where the religious place their hope in a book which gives direction through a set of rules.
I am teetering around on the edge, tiptoeing around the pool, not yet willing to take the plunge. I, like so many people of my age ask questions that a busy life left no room.
The philosophy that Buddhism bases its reasoning on is very attractive being tied to our human condition and not a mystical wish list. The nature of self analysis through meditation has a sensible ring to it, it’s practical and can do no harm. The business of rebirth is different and has the ring of a religious promise to it which boarders on faith, something I find difficult!!
