Over the last 2 weeks I have been watching birds and their young. Below is a site that has nestcams set up to watch bird nests. I have been watching hummingbirds, bald eagles, peregrine falcons, owls, cardinals. Some have sound, others don't. It's worth checking out.
http://www.ustream.tv/channel/andalusia-cardinal-nest
Friday, April 30, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Emma Celebrates Another Birthday
Emma received a birthday gift certificate from Sasha and Isaac for RW&CO.She dusted off her Wii and played some games with Isaac.
Today we celebrated Emma's birthday. Peter and family were out for the afternoon and for supper. We spent an hour playing at a local school yard playing on the outdoor play structures. The boys had a great time (I'll post pictures later)
Could Have Touched the Tree Tops
Yesterday on our drive to move Emma, we were surprised to see a small plane flying tree top level over the divided highway. It was just outside of Oromocto. We first say it approaching us from our left and it was fortunate that I had the camera with me. It then flew over the highway, banked to the right, crossed the highway again and headed back over the trees. Very unusual to see a plane flying that low.Vinyl Cafe Story Exchange (Pier 21)
"Halifax Immigration"
by Jacquie Huntington from Vancouver, BC
Nova Scotia has always been a special place for me. I was born there, and I lived there until I was three – which is when my family moved to Toronto. Although my parents lived in Toronto for over fifty years, it was never “home” to them. Nova Scotia was home. I retained some of that feeling, even though after my grandmother died in 1963, I had been back only once. And I had never been there with my husband, and children.
So, in April 2006, when my son’s band was nominated for “Best New Group” and “Song of the Year” at the Juno Awards, and the awards were to be held in Halifax, there was just no question that we should all go back. It was time for them to see where I was from.
On the Saturday after we arrived my husband & I went over to “Fan Fare”, which was an autograph session for young fans. The event was being held in the immigrant shed of Pier 21. We found ourselves amidst a mob of overly excited teenage girls and after a frantic hour, realized it was not where we wanted to be. Since Pier 21 was on my list of “Things to see in Halifax”, we decided to get out of the chaos and check out the exhibit next door.
We were the only people there. As we paid our entrance fee, the clerk looked at our Visa card with unusual interest. . He asked my husband, whose name is Polish, when he had come to Canada. Somewhat taken aback, he said that he was born here. The clerk persisted. “When did your parents come to Canada,” he asked. ”Did they land in Halifax? ”
Wally had no idea where they had landed, but he thought they must have arrived in the late 20s.
The clerk smiled . “You may be in luck,” he said. “We’ve just compiled all the data for immigrants arriving before 1935”. He invited us to bypass the exhibit and head upstairs, to the archives.
This was something we hadn’t expected. But up we went, and after the very helpful staff had rooted through the drawers of microfiche, we were presented with a printout of the record of Wally’s father’s arrival: Joseph Malinowski, 24 years old, single, traveling alone, carrying , $35.00.
As we read those words, we felt a thrill of emotion. It was as though we were channelling the complex stew of feelings that Wally’s father must have experienced as he came out of the confines of the ship into the vastness of the immigrant shed to be processed, and then to sign his name so that he could begin his new life in Canada. Fear, excitement, uncertainty, joy: it must have been an overwhelming jumble. One thing he knew for certain: he had come to Canada to find a better life for himself, and the family he one day hoped to have.
What he could never have imagined, was that 80 years later, at the exactly the same age, his grandson, and namesake, 24 year old Jay Joseph Malinowski, would find himself in the same building, also signing his name, but for entirely different reasons.
The building was largely the same, and this time, like the last time, there was a clamouring mob of people. Joseph had been alone, in a sea of strangers who were speaking languages he could not understand. Jay was with friends, surrounded by people who had lined up in the hope of meeting him, to take his picture and to get his autograph. They may have been people he didn’t know, but they were people who wanted to know him. Joseph had dreamed of a better life. His grandson was the living proof .
So Halifax was not, as we had thought, just special for me. Halifax, it turned out, was the beginning for us all.
PS: My son’s band is called Bedouin Soundclash. The next night, they won the Juno for New Group of the Year.
by Jacquie Huntington from Vancouver, BC
Nova Scotia has always been a special place for me. I was born there, and I lived there until I was three – which is when my family moved to Toronto. Although my parents lived in Toronto for over fifty years, it was never “home” to them. Nova Scotia was home. I retained some of that feeling, even though after my grandmother died in 1963, I had been back only once. And I had never been there with my husband, and children.
So, in April 2006, when my son’s band was nominated for “Best New Group” and “Song of the Year” at the Juno Awards, and the awards were to be held in Halifax, there was just no question that we should all go back. It was time for them to see where I was from.
On the Saturday after we arrived my husband & I went over to “Fan Fare”, which was an autograph session for young fans. The event was being held in the immigrant shed of Pier 21. We found ourselves amidst a mob of overly excited teenage girls and after a frantic hour, realized it was not where we wanted to be. Since Pier 21 was on my list of “Things to see in Halifax”, we decided to get out of the chaos and check out the exhibit next door.
We were the only people there. As we paid our entrance fee, the clerk looked at our Visa card with unusual interest. . He asked my husband, whose name is Polish, when he had come to Canada. Somewhat taken aback, he said that he was born here. The clerk persisted. “When did your parents come to Canada,” he asked. ”Did they land in Halifax? ”
Wally had no idea where they had landed, but he thought they must have arrived in the late 20s.
The clerk smiled . “You may be in luck,” he said. “We’ve just compiled all the data for immigrants arriving before 1935”. He invited us to bypass the exhibit and head upstairs, to the archives.
This was something we hadn’t expected. But up we went, and after the very helpful staff had rooted through the drawers of microfiche, we were presented with a printout of the record of Wally’s father’s arrival: Joseph Malinowski, 24 years old, single, traveling alone, carrying , $35.00.
As we read those words, we felt a thrill of emotion. It was as though we were channelling the complex stew of feelings that Wally’s father must have experienced as he came out of the confines of the ship into the vastness of the immigrant shed to be processed, and then to sign his name so that he could begin his new life in Canada. Fear, excitement, uncertainty, joy: it must have been an overwhelming jumble. One thing he knew for certain: he had come to Canada to find a better life for himself, and the family he one day hoped to have.
What he could never have imagined, was that 80 years later, at the exactly the same age, his grandson, and namesake, 24 year old Jay Joseph Malinowski, would find himself in the same building, also signing his name, but for entirely different reasons.
The building was largely the same, and this time, like the last time, there was a clamouring mob of people. Joseph had been alone, in a sea of strangers who were speaking languages he could not understand. Jay was with friends, surrounded by people who had lined up in the hope of meeting him, to take his picture and to get his autograph. They may have been people he didn’t know, but they were people who wanted to know him. Joseph had dreamed of a better life. His grandson was the living proof .
So Halifax was not, as we had thought, just special for me. Halifax, it turned out, was the beginning for us all.
PS: My son’s band is called Bedouin Soundclash. The next night, they won the Juno for New Group of the Year.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Moving Day....Again
Today we move Emma home from Fredericton. Yesterday she wrote her last exam and graduation is May 20th.
Brenna wrote her last on Wednesday and they are both really happy to be done.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
The Vinyl Cafe Story Exchange (Lily Lake Pavilion)
"Lily Pavilion Dance"
by Norman Williamson from Bath, Ontario
I came to Canada from Ireland in 1960. I came to build ships for Mr. K. C. Irving and when I landed in Saint John, New Brunswick on June 6th I didn’t know a single sole in this country.
As the weeks passed I got to know my fellow workers and they me. Friendships were formed and invitations to go the movies or to dances at the pavilion were extended. Anyone knowing the Maritimes knows, the folks there are very friendly. If you can’t fit in there then it is YOU who is the problem
That said, as a newcomer I was, of course, fair game for local pranks. As you know, New Brunswick is a bilingual province and they are proud of it. Language is strong there. I worked with a number of the North Shore French speaking lads and we struck up a good friendship. Me being Irish appeared to help.
We would often attend the Saturday night Lily Lake Pavillion Dances. There was a beautiful young woman, a regular at the dance and I fell instantly in love with her the first time I saw here. Her name was Dorren and I had the opportunity to hold her in my arms more times than I could count as we danced around the floor together over the following weeks.
Ozzie Jimmo, one of the lads I worked with, noticed the frequency with which I danced with Doreen and remarked on it. He guessed right that I was eager to make a good impression on this young woman…anything which might lead to a relationship.
Ozzie was fluent in both French and English, which greatly impressed me. And, being a new friend, he suggested I learn a French phrase which I could whisper into her ear during one of those romantic dances.
The next week at work he instructed me to say what he called “a common French courting phrase”.
“All the French girls fall for it”, he said
I couldn’t wait for the dance that Saturday.
I had no idea what the phrase meant but I practiced it over and over again all week.
When the night finally came I was very patient with Doreen. Finally, near the end of the night, the band started playing “Some Enchanted Evening”. I asked Doreen to dance with me. I got up my courage and whispered the French phrase I had been practicing into her ear:
“Voulez-vous cochez avec moi ce soir?”
There was a sudden change in her step.
Her face turned to face mine and she had a strange look in her eye and then she started to speak French to me. She might as well have been speaking Greek. When she finally finished there was a prolonged silence. Doreen broke the silence when she asked me, in English, if I had any idea what I had said to her. When I told her I thought I’d asked her to go steady with me. She smiled and said “Of course I will.”
That night I drover her home and kissed her good night for the first time, but not the last. We spent the summer together insuperable and it was a marvelous summer.
Ozzie came up to me first thing Monday morning and asked me how Doreen had answered my French question. I’ll never forget the look on his face when I told him she had said “Of course I will.”
Doreen waited many weeks to translate that phrase for me into English. Regrettably we parted late in the fall of 1960. But Stuart, if you don’t mind, I’d like to say hi to Doreen to La Blanc today and tell her that I remember her with fondness.
by Norman Williamson from Bath, Ontario
I came to Canada from Ireland in 1960. I came to build ships for Mr. K. C. Irving and when I landed in Saint John, New Brunswick on June 6th I didn’t know a single sole in this country.
As the weeks passed I got to know my fellow workers and they me. Friendships were formed and invitations to go the movies or to dances at the pavilion were extended. Anyone knowing the Maritimes knows, the folks there are very friendly. If you can’t fit in there then it is YOU who is the problem
That said, as a newcomer I was, of course, fair game for local pranks. As you know, New Brunswick is a bilingual province and they are proud of it. Language is strong there. I worked with a number of the North Shore French speaking lads and we struck up a good friendship. Me being Irish appeared to help.
We would often attend the Saturday night Lily Lake Pavillion Dances. There was a beautiful young woman, a regular at the dance and I fell instantly in love with her the first time I saw here. Her name was Dorren and I had the opportunity to hold her in my arms more times than I could count as we danced around the floor together over the following weeks.
Ozzie Jimmo, one of the lads I worked with, noticed the frequency with which I danced with Doreen and remarked on it. He guessed right that I was eager to make a good impression on this young woman…anything which might lead to a relationship.
Ozzie was fluent in both French and English, which greatly impressed me. And, being a new friend, he suggested I learn a French phrase which I could whisper into her ear during one of those romantic dances.
The next week at work he instructed me to say what he called “a common French courting phrase”.
“All the French girls fall for it”, he said
I couldn’t wait for the dance that Saturday.
I had no idea what the phrase meant but I practiced it over and over again all week.
When the night finally came I was very patient with Doreen. Finally, near the end of the night, the band started playing “Some Enchanted Evening”. I asked Doreen to dance with me. I got up my courage and whispered the French phrase I had been practicing into her ear:
“Voulez-vous cochez avec moi ce soir?”
There was a sudden change in her step.
Her face turned to face mine and she had a strange look in her eye and then she started to speak French to me. She might as well have been speaking Greek. When she finally finished there was a prolonged silence. Doreen broke the silence when she asked me, in English, if I had any idea what I had said to her. When I told her I thought I’d asked her to go steady with me. She smiled and said “Of course I will.”
That night I drover her home and kissed her good night for the first time, but not the last. We spent the summer together insuperable and it was a marvelous summer.
Ozzie came up to me first thing Monday morning and asked me how Doreen had answered my French question. I’ll never forget the look on his face when I told him she had said “Of course I will.”
Doreen waited many weeks to translate that phrase for me into English. Regrettably we parted late in the fall of 1960. But Stuart, if you don’t mind, I’d like to say hi to Doreen to La Blanc today and tell her that I remember her with fondness.
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