Tag Archives: memories

When It Works

Standard
When It Works

It’s a marvelous tool when it works. It enables me to write, work, bank, research and so much more. And I can do this from wherever I happen to be at the moment. But in order to do this, it requires a good internet signal with a secured connection as well as a variety of passwords.

I’ll start with the connection. In Mexico it’s an exercise in futility to do banking or make plane reservations between four and six in the afternoon. Otherwise I have a strong signal and encounter no problems. Where I am in East Wenatchee it’s a little more complicated. I usually have to reboot the modem at least once a day. And even then it can be slow.

Like this morning when I tried to do some banking. I couldn’t connect with my bank at all. I rebooted the modem. Then I was able to connect but it took forever to pay a bill. I postdated a payment this morning although payment isn’t due until sometime in October. That eliminates the frustration of not being able to connect or another slow connection closer to the due date.

Now on to passwords. I have pages of passwords.

It’s nice that some can be stored on my computer, but inevitably I’m asked to change them for one reason or another. Once again, that happened this morning. I’m thinking maybe because it was taking too long to log in to the website. And when I finally did get on the first time I couldn’t do anything so that my bank didn’t believe it was me. Until I reset my password.

Do you remember when you had to go in person to a bank to pay a bill? Somehow the inconvenience of finding a parking space and standing in line seem less frustrating now than they did years ago.

Maybe I’m showing my age.

More Memories

Standard
More Memories

August 23, 2009. International Peace Gardens. Murals in Boissevain. Morden Corn and Apple Festival. I’m exhausted just thinking that I did all that in one day. Solo too. But people who know me are well aware that if I want to travel somewhere, I don’t always wait to find someone who wants to go with me. I just go.

I had always wanted to visit the International Peace Gardens. When I was a child, some of my friends went to a music camp there in the summer. I envied them. I actually auditioned, was accepted but never did go. My parents were not in favor of it. Growing up in the shadow of an older sibling, their expectations were that I would do what he had done. And attending this camp was never anything he had done. I think that maybe this contributed to my urge to be a non-conformist and somewhat of a rebel. At any rate, it has definitely influenced my determination to explore and seek adventure in life.

Here it is, decades later, and I am able to spend a few hours at the Peace Gardens. Aside from the beautiful flower gardens, I found tranquility in The Peace Chapel. There was a monument to 9/11. The Peace Tower and The Bell Tower were rather formidable. I hope that someday I will have an opportunity to revisit this area.

I drove through Boissevain admiring all the murals I’d heard about. And then it was time to lighten the mood at the Corn and Apple Festival, an event I’d attended on previous visits to Morden.

Since 2010, most of my August 23rds have been spent in Mexico or in Washington. But there is one August 23rd that stands out in my memory and it happened years before 2009, years before I had Facebook to remind me of memories. It was a celebration in Winnipeg that actually filled the entire weekend. It involved one of my kids and sadly many people who are no longer with us today. I do have photos that are backed up on an external hard drive. Think I might just go and check them out.

Enjoy your weekend!

Emotional March

Standard
Emotional March

The month of March has been all about emotion. First there is the course I’m taking from Yale University that deals with emotions. And then this morning I was on a Zoom meeting with Authors Publish with a speaker talking about expressing the emotions of our protagonist. It’s all been very moving.

I know that I get caught up in the emotions of my characters. I laugh with them and I cry with them. And that is the goal for my readers. I want them to feel these emotions as they read my books.

I occasionally read books and emotions come out that I don’t really want to feel. Sometimes they are triggered by memories that are best left in the past. After all, I have already dealt with them. Or have I? Then why am I so uncomfortable reading some of these books? Maybe there’s still work to be done.

Emotions and behavior modelled by parents and teachers in our childhood have a strong influence in the way we conduct our own lives as adults, especially when we find ourselves in difficult situations when it comes to resolving conflict. These then have a great influence on our own children, or on our students if we are educators.

Think about that for a moment. Teachers spend a lot more time with children than parents do. Subsequently our biases are often passed on, often subconsciously. It can be confusing for children to choose as some of these values may be in direct conflict from those expressed by their parents. And to make matters even more complicated, children themselves may have very different ideas.

One of the writing prompts I came across recently posed this question: “Who was the one teacher that made the biggest impression in your life?” I thought about that one long and hard, because the one teacher I had in mind was not only a horrible teacher but was also a lousy guidance counselor. Back in tenth grade he told me to switch from the university entrance program to the business education program. How encouraging! Despite the fact that I skipped classes and often ignored homework assignments, my grades were high. And of course that annoyed him even more. In this case, my confusion back in high school resulted in anger and frustration. His advice resonated throughout my college years where I continued to skip classes but still maintained a high grade point average.

As an adult today I’ve let go of the anger. However I feel strongly that this particular teacher had no place being in a classroom and should never have been a guidance counselor either. I wonder what unresolved issues he had in his own life that caused him to have such a strong negative influence on not only myself, but other students as well. And as a teacher myself, I do my best to understand why students exhibit certain behaviors. Only then can I best help them.

I’m glad I didn’t switch programs back in high school. I have attended universities in Canada and in Mexico. I have earned accreditations in psychology, sociology, counseling, education and yes, even in business administration. These have enabled me to live in different countries, to meet fascinating people and to have amazing adventures.

My advice – Give yourself permission to feel your emotions. They will lead you on an exciting journey through life.

No Escape

Standard
No Escape

There’s just no escape. I’m still trapped. I’m surprised I don’t have daymares as well as nightmares. Photos are haunting. And they just won’t go away.

I spent two months in Winnipeg scanning photos. Right now they’re still as chaotically organized as they were when I returned to East Wenatchee. I’ve backed them up onto three different external hard drives and I doubt I’ll do anything more with them until I return to Mexico for the winter. And I wonder if future generations will appreciate the effort that went into this project of scanning photos. After all, today’s photos are already digitalized as the majority come from cellphones. Cameras and movie cameras before the advent of cellphones are dinosaurs. Taking rolls of film in to be developed and waiting days or weeks to see them are also a thing of the past. And there is no longer the necessity to store large, bulky photo albums. Slides and slide projectors? Almost extinct.

Photos are time consuming and I was at it again today for about four hours. But this time I wasn’t scanning. I downloaded hundreds of photos from Mexico, Washington and two trips to Canada from my phone onto my computer. I organized them into files and then backed them up onto external hard drives. And maybe someday I’ll want to look at them again.

Photos are a treasure trove of memories. People. Places. Events. Chapters in life. Unwritten memoirs. But they are nonetheless memories recorded for posterity.

Digging Through Buried Treasure

Standard
Digging Through Buried Treasure

I’m taking a break from scanning photos. I feel like writing a blog post. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed by all the nonstop scanning I’ve been doing since I got here. While I do see friends and that breaks up the monotony of scanning, the emotional part is really starting to get to me.

There are photos of my dad and my grandparents who never got to meet my kids. There are photos of aunts, uncles, cousins and friends who have passed away. The memories keep flooding back and occasionally they are not happy ones.

One of the bins contained my Achievements Binder. Wow! No wonder I have so many letters after my name! I took a lot of courses at University of Manitoba and Red River College. And then there are all the professional development courses and the crisis intervention courses. Throw in CPR and First Aid training. There are also a multitude of child abuse checks and criminal records checks.

This binder also contains pages full of letters of appreciation and cards for all the volunteer work I did throughout the years. Among them are Winnipeg School Division 1, Laidlaw School, YMCA, Grace Hospital, ASYC, YBC, Scouts Canada, Girl Guides of Canada, Manitoba Hospice and Palliative Care and many, many more organizations.

And I’m just finishing up Bin 2.

A Facebook Memory

Standard
A Facebook Memory

I always glance at my Facebook memories every day. I find it interesting to see where I’ve traveled as well as the people I’ve met along the way. The memory that surfaced today is a bittersweet one. I had moved back to Winnipeg and both my kids were living there. I made an early Christmas dinner in 2009 as a friend and I were spending Christmas in Cuba that year.

I made a turkey and all my kids’ favorite dishes and desserts. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that would be the last time we’d be together for a Christmas dinner. But it was. The following year I moved to Mexico and I haven’t been back to Winnipeg since during the winter. While my son is still in Winnipeg, my daughter lives in Kelowna. And here I am in Mexico again for another Christmas.

I actually did spend Christmas in Wenatchee in 2020. I got an extended stay in the USA that year because of Covid. Otherwise I’ve been in Mexico for Christmas since 2010. And I’ve celebrated Christmas in a number of different places including Culiacan, Guadalajara, Mazatlan, Tototlan, Lake Chapala, San Ciro de Acosta and Aguascalientes. And I wonder where I’ll be next year.

Maybe when I go back to Canada in the summer I should have a Christmas dinner with my kids one year. That will take some planning seeing as my kids don’t live anywhere near each other. But it’s a thought.

Thanks for the memories, Facebook!

Winnipeg Week One

Standard
Winnipeg Week One

In my previous post I had mentioned that my passport renewal was my priority. Once that process had begun it was time to relax and enjoy time with friends.

I enjoyed a beautiful morning at a wading pool with Rita and her kids and grandkids. I sure wish they’d have had places like this when my kids were little. A large slide, water guns and sprayers. For safety reasons they limit the number of people allowed in at one time. Lots of picnic tables and benches in the shade as well.

I had lunch with my son and his girlfriend and then it was off to his place to sort through some bins he has been storing for me. So far the family photo albums are still intact although he is threatening to dispose of those too. Other treasures I’d saved for my kids are apparently of no interest to them, such as outfits my mom had crocheted for them when I brought them home from the hospital after they were born. Really heartbreaking for me to part with these. But I can’t exactly drag them around three countries every year. Too cumbersome and too costly. So that was a stressful afternoon.

Sunday afternoon was cemetery visiting. Lise took me to Shaarey Zedek to see my parents. That’s one of the traditions we have when I come back to visit. Lise also goes there to visit even when I’m not here. Next we drove out to Fannystelle where her husband and her parents are buried. Lots of memories of another lifetime. When I lived in Oak Bluff I spent a lot of time on Highway 2 going out to Fannystelle. Koal was my constant companion back then and I can still picture him happily sitting in the front seat. He loved to go for car rides.

I had a video call with my granddaughter on Sunday. She told me about her adventures at the park and showed off somersaults. Madeline was playing with her leggo and showing me her bookshelf and other toys. We had quite the conversation. But the best is yet to come. I actually get to see her this coming weekend when we all go to Brandon to watch my daughter compete in regionals.

Yesterday afternoon we watched President Biden’s press conference with the Houston Astros. Rita’s son is the Director of Sport Medicine and Performance for the team and was right there in that room in The White House. Very exciting!

Yesterday Audrey and I got together for a long and leisurely dinner at one of our favorite restaurants. We caught up on our lives and our kids lives. We’ve known each other since my daughter and her son were in elementary school together. We’ve gone through divorces, illnesses and other life events over the decades.

And yes, I did get to Tim Horton’s for an ice cap and a boston cream donut. However Starbucks has you beat and the donut was not nearly as wonderful as I remember. But Tim’s is another tradition when I come back here.

And now on to week two.

Mother’s Day Moments

Standard
Mother’s Day Moments

I’ve come full circle when it comes to celebrating Mother’s Day—as a child, as a mother and as a grandmother. There are some special moments I recall in every phase. I’ll begin with childhood.

At school we always made Mother’s Day cards. At home I would also make my own cards as well. My dad always encouraged us to make this day a special one for my mom. Growing up like that I thought that was the norm; that was what all families did. It wasn’t until I got married that I found out that not all families were like that.

My first Mother’s Day as a married woman I was told by my ex that I wasn’t his mother so there was no reason to celebrate. Once we had kids that changed, mainly because my kids were into making that day a special one for me. They made cards and art projects at school, Cubs and Girl Guides. I still have a few of those tucked away.

As a grandmother, that means my daughter is a mother. Video calls with my daughter and granddaughter have to suffice as we live in different countries and have yet to be together on Mother’s Day.

The last time I saw both of my kids together on Mother’s Day was in 2007. My daughter was away in 2008 and in 2009 I was returning from a mission trip with my church. In 2010 I was already living in Mexico.

That first Mother’s Day in Mexico was interesting because May 10th is the day to celebrate regardless of what day of the week it falls on. None of this second Sunday in May. Mothers are truly honored. There is a lot more to it than just going out for brunch or dinner or giving your mother a card or a gift..

A few years ago I had this gut feeling that I wanted to go back to Winnipeg and see my son on Mother’s Day. And I’m glad I went with my gut. Thanks to Covid, I didn’t see my son again for four years (or maybe five years, depending on who you talk to.)

Many years have gone by since I hosted family gatherings for Mother’s Day. One of my grandmothers died when I was a young child, the other one died when my son was a year old and my mother died in 1996. I usually go to church on Mother’s Day and sometimes go out for brunch with friends after. I receive an annual text from my son and a call from my daughter. I wish I could travel back in time to when we were all together on Mother’s Day. If only I could relive even one moment. Those memories are now treasures in my heart.

I’m going to visit my mom today. No, I won’t be in Winnipeg and I won’t be going to the cemetery. But I do have photos I’ve taken when she was still alive. And I do have photos I’ve taken when I have been able to go to the cemetery. They’re all on my Seagate and I will spend some time with them this afternoon.

Happy Mother’s Day everyone! Enjoy your day!

Last Night I Had The Strangest Dream

Standard
Last Night I Had The Strangest Dream

I’m not sure if it’s because I listened to the song or if it was just my turn to have a strange dream. But Thursday night was the night for more than one strange dream. As I whizzed through different decades in my life, the imagery was distinct and clear. I don’t recall all the details. But I went from nineteen to four to thirty-seven and a variety of other memorable ages. The people in my dreams seemed so real although many have not been a part of my life in years, either by choice or in some cases death. But they were all there and alive in my dreams.

Friday night I was surfing through Spotify and came across some old Perry Como songs. Yes I am that ancient. When I awoke the next morning I felt more than a little disoriented. I expected to see my childhood rocking chair and my record player. Those songs really got to me. They were favorites when I was a child. Middle of the House, Mi Casa Su Casa, Catch a Falling Star. I wonder if my readers remember any of those.

But when I opened my eyes I was here in Mexico, not in my childhood bedroom. Yet it had all seemed so real. For a few fleeting moments I was transported back to the safety of my childhood, a very comfortable place. At that age I didn’t watch the news on TV so I had no idea how chaotic the rest of the world was. My parents did a good job of sheltering me back then. Of course there was no Internet or Facebook in the olden days either.

I wonder if my own children ever have similar experiences. Of course they probably remember Madonna or Michael Jackson rather than Perry Como. The 80s were definitely different than the 50s.

This afternoon as I work on my novel, I’ve decided to listen to 60s country in the background. Can’t wait to find out what the dreams will be about tonight!

Happy Sunday!

Where Does The Music Take You?

Standard
Where Does The Music Take You?

I’ve been doing a lot of writing lately. And I like to have music on in the background. And I use different types of music depending on if my main character is in his childhood, teens or adult stages in life. Anything from Raffi to Cranberries to Chumbawumba to Backstreet Boys to Pink and so much more.

I find it interesting how a song can take me back in time. If I really listen to the words and close my eyes, I’m magically transported back to a place or event in my past.

The other day I was listening to an old Elton John song called Making Friends. And I found myself in the parkade at Daytons in downtown Minneapolis back in the 70s.

Carrie Ann. A great song by The Hollies. And I was back in the gym at University of Winnipeg watching them live back in the 60s.

Wild Horses. And I’m up in the stands at the old Winnipeg Stadium watching Mick Jagger prance across the stage.

Whenever I hear a tune from the Irish Rovers I’m reminded of when I did programming on a dementia unit in a personal care home. Oh how the residents loved that group!

Vamos A La Playa. Desperately trying to keep up with the pace and intent on improving my Spanish when I first arrived in Aguascalientes.

Handel’s Water Music. I’m back in Mazatlan at the Angela Peralta Theater at a live performance. Or even further back I’m in Mrs. Christie’s music class back in junior high.

Kokomo by the Beach Boys. I can still see Kyle at about age 7 trying to play it on the piano. Somehow he had convinced his very conservative classical music teacher that he wanted to learn this song.

I could go on but I think you get the idea. I can identify chapters of my life story by the different genres of music I’ve listened to over the years. And I’m sure you can too. All you have to do is close your eyes and lose yourself in the music. Try it!