Christmas Greetings

(This is a column originally published for Christmas in 1992. Hope you enjoy it and may you have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year 2007-08)


The Christmas spirit touched me early this year and I'm not sure
why. Normally I don't think much about the holiday until it's almost
here but this year is different. I found myself humming Christmas
music weeks ago and I keep day dreaming about, of all things, going
for an old fashioned sleigh ride. I've never been in a horse drawn
sleigh in my life and yet there I am, at least in my imagination,
riding through the woods and over the hills toward a far off village.
I can hear the jingling sleigh bells and feel the cold on my cheeks.
It's like living in a Christmas card. This is strange behavior for
someone who tends to be a little like Scrooge at this time of year.

You see I love Christmas itself, I just don't like all the fuss
and planning and hype that goes along with it. I'm uncomfortable with
the Christmas buying frenzy that's underway now and I feel the holiday
has become much too hectic for most people. And yet, I still find
myself in this mysterious Christmassy mood.

Even the Christmas chores, as I call them, couldn't destroy the
seasonal spirit that's infected me. Putting up the outside lights is
always a miserable job. They're tangled, bulbs are missing and it
takes an hour of fiddling just to get them working. In my wisdom this
year I decided to put them up the day of our first big snow storm of
the winter. My fingers were frozen, strings of lights decided to stop
working just after I placed them at the very top of the tree. These
are the joys of Christmas. It was a frustrating afternoon but you
know once the job was done and the lights were sparkling in the trees,
that darn Christmas feeling came back again.

I probably shouldn't be feeling this way. The last few months
have been difficult and painful for a lot of people. More then ever
before, I've seen the toll this damn, never ending recession is taking
on peoples lives. Times are tough for everyone and many families are
just scraping by. Others are dealing with sickness in the family or
the death of a loved one. For many people there isn't a lot to be
happy about this holiday season.

Maybe that's why Christmas seems so special this year? Maybe
it's just the tonic we need to help us get through these difficult
times. After all, isn't the magic of Christmas partly about sharing,
and caring for others and hoping for a better future? I think it is.

Yes, I'm looking forward to the holiday this year. I guess the
spirit of Christmas has really worked it's magic on me. Who knows,
maybe those Christmas Card sleigh rides of my imagination will turn
into the real thing. I have to go. The tree still has to be
decorated and I think I hear sleigh bells.

Merry Christmas.

Allen's Wall

(This is a column originally published in November, 1992. As far as I know, the wall is still there and still a mystery.)


It's not every day you go on an archeological expedition to the ruins of an old fort. It's even rarer if that fort is in your own backyard. But that's what happened one day this past summer on the Kingston Peninsula. Allen Gorham lead an expedition of sorts to the site of an old rock wall he's known about for years.

"When we were kids we came down here to play and look for Indian arrow heads and cannon balls and stuff." Allen says laughing, "Of course we didn't find any because we didn't even know what an arrow head looked like. But I've been told all my life that this wall is part of an old French fort."

The wall or fort or whatever it is stretches for about 200 feet through the woods at Gregory Point, just below Crystal Beach. It's about four feet high and three feet thick in most places and is made of field stones and boulders. It stands about a hundred feet from the waters edge, where the river bends and flows toward Westfield and Grand Bay. It's been here for a long time and yet few know of it's existence. But that could change.

Allen Gorham invited a special guest along on this expedition to the wall. He's Dr. Chris Turnbull, the Provincial Archeologist. Chris had heard about this rock structure before but never seen it. He was getting excited as he followed Allen along the beach and then through the woods toward the site. Dr. Turnbull has done this sort of thing before. He often gets asked by people to check out something on their property or an unusual structure they know about. In fact some of the most exciting archeological sites in the maritimes have been discovered this way.

After a careful examination of the wall, Chris Turnbull admitted he's never seen anything quite like this before. "The problem is that forts usually aren't just simply long walls like this, they're small enclosed areas." he said. "And French forts in particular are usually very small structures." He believes it's of European origin because native societies generally didn't build rock walls like this but he can't understand why it would be built here.

"Archeologists of course deal in probabilities and it certainly is a rock wall, it was put together by people for some reason but as to exactly when and for what reason we'd have to undertake some digging along here to uncover some artifacts." said Dr. Turnbull. "People have been living in a disposable mode for a long time and that disposal is the stuff we use to date things."

This expedition has been a great success for Allen Gorham. He's been assured by the expert that his mystery wall is indeed authentic and historic but to find out any more is going to take some digging both in the ground and in the archives. And Dr. Chris Turnbull promises this will happen at some point but he can't give Allen a date. That' OK though. The wall's been here for many years. It and Allen can wait a little longer.

For now this stone structure is being officially called "Allen"s Wall". "I'll go for that." Allen says with a hearty laugh. "I'll finally have something named after me."

Wanderlust

(This is a column first published in November, 1992. Geoff and Margaret returned and did some work on their boat a few years after this. They again went back to Australia and left the boat at the marina. Some time ago, I can't remember exactly when, they returned again and put the Skookum back in the water. They sailed away and I don't know where they are now.)


I think we all have a little bit of wanderlust in us. It's a desire for adventure and a yearning for travel. It's a feeling of freedom, of going where you want, of living your life the way you want, not the way society expects you to live. Sometimes it takes very little for this wanderlust to surface especially in these stressful times. It was rekindled in me recently when I met Geoff Payne and Margaret Hough.

This young Australian couple sailed into Saint John Marina one sunny day in late October. Before they knew it the 40 foot yacht that had been their home for the last four years as they sailed half way around the world, was out of the water and on land. "This is our home. It's not just a boat." said a laughing Margaret, "This is all we've got. For somebody to lift it out of the water and put it on land is quite frightening really."

Over a cup of soup in the cozy cabin I shared in their adventure. Geoff told me how it started, how he decided to build this boat out of steel using his uncles plans. He built it in Kamloops, British Columbia and called it "Skookum" which means good and strong in west coast Indian language. Then he sent a telegram to Margaret in Australia saying: "Boat launched... exhausted... Geoff."

Together they began a four year sailing odyssey. The Skookum took them all along the BC coast, down to the Galapagos Islands, Easter Island, then around Cape Horn to the Falkland Islands and eventually to Antarctica. They would sail for a few weeks and then go ashore to
explore, meet the people and if possible work. "In the Falkland Islands I turned to drafting, roofing and finishing boats." said Geoff, "Margaret was a bar maid, fence painter, waitress and
agricultural laboratist."

Their lifestyle on board the boat was kept simple. "There's a lot of things you just cut loose when you do a trip like this." said Geoff. "No automobile, entertainment, rent, phones. No tv. All those things are gone. We live a simple life. Keeping the food up is all we need."

Every day is an adventure for Margaret and Geoff. They never know where the wind will take them. They could be out at sea for weeks at a time, isolated from even radio contact with the mainland. If something happened they don't expect anyone to come looking. They have to be self sufficient. They've survived wild seas and successfully maneuvered through an ocean of icebergs in the fog without radar.

t's not the life for everyone. It takes a special kind of person. "The hardest thing is getting up and going." said Geoff, "There was every temptation with a good job earning a good salary to stay on. Buy more, get involved with a house and a mortgage. That's the time you have to make the decision to go."

The wind and the waves brought Geoff and Margaret to our part of the world and here the sea bound portion of their adventure ends for a while. The Skookum is high and dry and will be cared for over the winter by the marina staff while Geoff and Margaret continue the adventure over land. They've picked up an old car and plan to drive back to B.C. where the expedition started four years ago. But they'll be back. After all their home is here. They look forward to
continuing their round the world voyage but not before experiencing the joys of sailing the St. John River.

I finished my soup and looked at the last few pictures of their travels. I had to get back to work, back to the reality of everyday life. But for a few minutes I was sharing in their adventure. It's comforting to know that in this complicated world in which we live it's still possible for two people like Geoff Payne and Margaret Hough to set sail in a small boat and go wherever the wind takes them.

That's wanderlust. That's freedom.

From Welsford to Nepal

(Here's another column from 15 years ago. I can't remember how Steve, Don and Jonathan made out on that climb. I met up with Steve Adamson last winter on an ice climbing adventure. I know the family is still involved with climbing. Enjoy this look back to Onctober, 1992.)

It's a long way from the 600 foot top of Bald Peak in Welsford to the 24,000 foot summit of Mount Pumori, standing next to Everest in Nepal. But right now three generations of a New Brunswick family are making the trip. Steve Adamson of Welsford is leading a climbing expedition to this Himalayan peak. Joining him on the climb are his 6 year old son Jonathan and his father Don. Fifty years may separate them but it doesn't matter for this climbing family. They left for Pumori in mid September.

It's a sunny, early summer day in Welsford. Steve, Don, Jonathan and a group of their friends are picnicking on Bald Peak and rock climbing. They use the cliff on the top of Mount Douglas to practice their climbing technique. Steve's been coming up here for years. Six year old Jonathan has been climbing since he was two and he can scramble up the rock face with little effort. He'll be accompanying his father and grand dad to base camp at 16,000 feet. That means a three week trek through the lowlands of Nepal, 10 to 15 miles a day carrying a pack. Jonathan is looking forward to it.

So is his grampa Don from Rothesay. It's his third mountaineering expedition. "My goal is to get Steve to the top even if I have to push him up there myself." Don says with a laugh. "I'll go
to base camp and see what happens after that. It would be nice to get to the top but I'm not banking on that."

Steve is hoping to reach the summit this time. It's his fourth climb and he's gathered together a team of experienced climbers. On his expedition to 26,000 foot Anapurna, Steve came face to face with the dangers of mountaineering. He was caught between a rock face and a crevice when a rock fall started rumbling down from way up the mountain. "The rock fall lasted about 15 minutes and there were boulders literally the size of houses just bouncing around me and
there was nothing I could do." said Steve. "You just hope your luck holds out. My luck ran out a little bit but it still held in the end."

On that same trip Steve was also caught in an avalanche. You learn a lot from experiences like that. "What it teaches you is things like taxes and constitutional debates are pretty insignificant when you're out in a snow storm just struggling to stay alive and where you can be snuffed out in seconds by an avalanche." Steve said thoughtfully. "It really puts everything in perspective."

Don was along with his son on that Anapurna trip and although they failed to reach the summit they did successfully climb a lesser peak together. It was a high point for both of them. Dons biggest concern about this trek is altitude sickness and the giant leeches they may encounter on their hike to base camp. "The monsoons tend to bring them out." he says, "They drop out of the trees and land on you. If we survive the leeches we've got it made." Steve says he knows a technique to avoid the leeches. "You travel in single file so the person at the end gets most of the leeches and being the expedition leader I'll be at the front of course." Steve says with a
laugh. "And being the oldest I'll be at the back." complains Don. "See how the strategy for this expedition is already forming."

All kidding aside, climbing this mountain is a quest filled with danger and adventure. Steve says he does it simply because it's fun. He can't think of a more enjoyable thing to do. And if he can reach the summit it's a bonus. "When you get to the top of a mountain you didn't conquer the mountain by any means, you were just lucky enough to be allowed to climb to it's top." Steve says, "It and nature are still in charge."

Right now the Adamson's are on the other side of the world making their way up the mountain and facing who knows what kind of conditions. But on that summer day on Bald Peak the sun was shining. There were no avalanches to worry about. Mount Pumori was far, far away. But it's snow packed summit loomed nearby, in the thoughts of three generations of the Adamson family.

A Grand Bay Fairy Tale

(This is I think my favorite column. It was written in October, 1992. When I read it today I can't remember all the issues that inspired it 15 years ago. I know Grand Bay had a new town council that seemed to get along after years of a previous council that did nothing but fight among themselves. I also know there was an issue over a town sign in both French and English but I can't remember the details. And I have no idea what the reference to a fox is all about. Either way it still reads like a fairy tale and I like it. Hope you do too)

The old man is standing on top of the hill, looking down at the Grand River and the forested valley that is his home. A tear runs down the old mans cheek. He is weeping for his town. The darkness has returned to the Bay folk.

In ancient times the Bay folk were ruled, as they still are, by the Grand Council. These wise men were elected to rule the land and keep the Bay folk safe. But this Grand Council turned out to be not so wise. They argued and fought among themselves. The needs of the Bay folk were forgotten. Eventually the Grand Council of the town of Bay in the land of New Brun became a laughing stock. The good New Brun people couldn't believe that members of the Grand Council would fight among themselves. Soon the New Brun people wanted nothing to do
with the poor Bay Folk. The laughing and humiliation continued for many years until the Day of Reckoning. On that day all the Grand Councilors of the Bay, who turned out to be not very wise, were thrown out and replaced by a new Council. The Bay folk rejoiced. Surely these new Grand Councilors, both men and women, would stop the fighting and deliver them from the darkness. They did and the darkness was lifted. Once again the birds sang in the forests, the fish returned to the Grand River and the Bay folk were happy.

The old man wipes his eyes, now full of tears as he weeps openly for his community. The fighting has returned and with it the darkness. You see the wise members of the new Grand Council decided in their wisdom to put up a big sign on the road welcoming all who come to the Bay. They wanted the sign to be written in both the languages spoken in the land of New Brun, so all would feel welcome. But a group of Bay merchants, led by Borm the town crier wanted the sign written in only one language, the one spoken by most of the Bay folk.

The Grandest of the Grand Councilors, the leader Fen disagreed with Borm and the others. Soon news of the dispute over the sign spread throughout the land. And the good people of Nouveau Brun laughed at the foolishness of it all. Once again the Bay folk were the laughing stock of the land. (And to make matters even worse, the Fox's were on the run again in the Bay and try as they might, the Grand Council couldn't control them.)

The old man wiped away his tears and headed down the hill. "Why must it always be like this?" he sighed. "Why can't we all get along?"

The old man walked home slowly, in sadness and shame.

Disability and Accessibility

(Here's another old column I found and dusted off from September 1992. The funny thing about going through these old Ramblers is once I read them I can actually remember writing them even it if was 15 years ago. I also find I feel much the same today about the things I wrote about as I did back then. This column is no exception.

It goes back to the days before amalgamation and when Grand Bay had its own police force. The names are familiar and so are the problems. I miss those regular wheelchair basketball games. They did create a needed awareness. I assume accessibility is better today than it was 15 years ago. I sure hope it is.)

I had three experiences recently that forced me to open my eyes and look at things differently. So often we go about our lives with blinders on until something happens that makes us stop and think and hopefully see. What I saw and experienced helped change my perception of what it means to be disabled.

It started with a visit to a friend at the Regional Hospital who was about to have some repair work done on his artificial knee. His old one just wore out and needed replacing. He was confident the surgery would be successful. Later that day, as I went for my usual run I thought about my friend laid up in the hospital. I felt fortunate because my knees still allowed me to jog and do whatever else I wanted. I felt sorry for my friend. But then I remembered the time he took me exploring in a cave. I was the one having trouble getting around down there, not him. He's the one always anxious to go hiking and canoeing. I realized my friend doesn't let an artificial knee get in the way of his enjoyment of life.

A few days after that hospital visit, I found myself in a wheelchair. I was a player in the 3rd Annual Wheelchair Basketball Game at Westfield school. As usual the team from Grand Bay/Westfield took a beating from the Saint John Maverick's Wheelchair Basketball Team. There were plenty of laughs as our team members awkwardly tried to play the game sitting in a wheelchair. Westfield councilor Allen Day had trouble staying in his. He kept flipping it over on himself.

Norm Adams of the Grand Bay Police couldn't quite figure out how to dribble the ball and drive the chair at the same time. As for me, I'm useless at basketball standing on two feet, let alone in a wheelchair. But we all had fun trying. And it opened my eyes again.

Peter Brooker, one of the organizers of the game, wanted to show everyone there, players and spectators, that being disabled does not mean the end of one's life. The disabled can participate in any community activity as long as the barriers are removed. "Access is a right. It's not a privilege." says Peter, "Once people and politicians realize that, then we might eventually have a barrier free society." Peter is happy to see more ramps and elevators for the disabled being installed in the Grand Bay/Westfield area. But of course, much more needs to be done.

That same week I experienced another eye opener in the form of an obituary notice in the newspaper. The headlines read Hollywood actor Anthony Perkins dies of AIDS. Anthony Perkins, if you don't know became famous by playing the murderous Norman Bates in Alfred
Hitchcock's film Psycho. Normally I would have just glanced at the article and turned the page. But something caught my attention and held it. Perkins released a statement just before his death. This is what he said: "There are many who believe that this disease is God's vengeance but I believe it was sent to teach people how to love and understand and have compassion for each other. I have learned more about love, selflessness and human understanding from the people I have met in this great adventure in the world of AIDS than I ever did in the cut-throat, competitive world in which I spent my life."

Surely living with a disease like AIDS has to be one of the most disabling experiences one could have. And yet Anthony Perkins faced it with courage. He didn't let the disease rob him of his humanity and he actually grew as a person by the experience.

My eyes have opened a little. I still have a lot to learn.

Remembering Horse Farming Days

(Here's another Retro-Rambler from September of 1992. Bill Lennan was organizing his third Horse Farming Days event on his farm at Carters Point. He did it for a number of years back in the 90's to introduce people to horse farming and raise some money for the IWK Hospital. They were always enjoyable events, something you could bring the entire family to. I miss them.)



Dot stares at me with her big brown eyes as I rub her nose. Jim snorts to get my attention because he wants his nose rubbed too. Jim and Dot are horses, big muscular work horses, a mixture of Belgium and Percheon. They're the kind of draft horses farmers depended on to get
the work done in days gone by. On the last weekend of September you'll have a chance to see Jim and Dot and over ten other teams of work horses at the 3rd Annual River Valley Horse Farming Days.

"We got some potatoes to dig and plowing to do, oats to thrash and some more to cut." says Bill Lennan with a big grin. He's the organizer of this weekend long demonstration of the way farming with horses used to be. The event takes place on his farm at Carters Point on the Kingston Peninsula. Last year over 300 people showed up to watch the teams plow up four acres of field on a hill overlooking the St. John River. They came from all over southern New Brunswick and even Nova Scotia.

This year in addition to the plowing Bill's going to dig potatoes with some old horse drawn potato diggers. The thrashing machines will be back and the old "Make and Break" engines used to power them. There'll be an old fashioned binder there to cut and wrap the grain. Bill also hopes to have a blacksmith working on site and have a demonstration of an old cider press. "I'd like to get some entertainment, some music this year. Maybe get some square dancers in if I can get a floor built in time. They'd kinda trip on the grass wouldn't they?" Bill asks with a smile. The only thing he knows for sure is the horses will be there. Draft horse owners from all over the area come because it's one of the few opportunities they have to work their animals and show people what horses can do. It's a celebration of simpler times, the way farming was done in the days before tractors.

"The first tractor came to this settlement of Carters Point in 1939 so up until then it was all done by horse. Even in the 40's dad plowed a lot with his horses. The haying was all done with the horses for a long time after that. The first tractor we got here on this place was in 1953." says Bill.

He doesn't work the family farm anymore. But Bill still has his horses Dot and Jim and he still enjoys hitching them up to the plow. He can't explain why he loves it so much or why he goes to all the trouble of holding this event every year. "It is ridiculous when you think about it." says Bill. "Work myself pretty well to death getting ready, worry and fret and you always forget something. But you look forward to it. Each year when it's over you start making plans for the next year."

The 3rd Annual River Valley Horse Farming Days is on Saturday and Sunday from about 10 am to 5 pm both days. Admission is free and there's a canteen and washroom facilities on the site. Bill's farm is just 3.5 miles above the Westfield Ferry, past Crystal Beach. He'll have a sign on the highway pointing out his farm. Just follow the road past the house and down to the river. Jim and Dot will be waiting for you.