Dundee

Last September Mom and I went to Scotland. Our trip was to consist of a combination of two organized tours and a weekend on our own. Prior to going, I mapped everything out to the minute so as to get the most out of our trip. We were both excited. I was excited to return and Mom was excited to make her first journey to the homeland of so many of our ancestors.

I was not only looking forward to returning to Scotland, but of course for the time I would be spending with my Mom. I knew we would have lots of laughs and they began before we even left Toronto. Prior to going through security at Pearson Airport, Mom looked at me dead serious and said “I hope they don’t take my brush.”

Neither of us slept very much on the flight. Arriving in Glasgow jet lagged and bleary eyed, we made our made to Buchanan bus station with Dundee being our final destination that day. We passed through Stirling and saw the magnificent Stirling Castle and Wallace Monument. That is the last memory I had before I felt my Mom nudging me saying “Is this Dundee?” I woke up with a start – partly from Mom’s nudge and the people trying to climb over my sprawled legs in the bus aisle. I don’t think I fell asleep – I fell into a sleep coma. I didn’t remember stopping in Perth and looking around me at that moment, nothing looked familiar. I might as well have been on the moon.  

My memory of arriving in Dundee via a bus twenty years ago is at best fuzzy as I was also arriving through bleary jet lagged eyes at that time. This time around, I was really looking forward to that drive into Dundee to see how accurate my memory was...and I missed it completely. Looking around for anything familiar, I finally noticed a sign saying “Welcome to Dundee.” My first thought was “Wow, they’ve made significant upgrades to the bus station.” We stumbled into the bus station and had a cup of tea at the greasy spoon station diner. Heather Muirhead then met us right on cue.

I met Heather during my exchange year at Dundee. She was actually a friend of my fellow Canadian exchange student Beth, but I came to know her and immediately sensed how lovely she was. I babysit her daughter Hilary once that year and have been in touch with her off and on for the past twenty years. When she heard via Beth that I was returning, she insisted we stay with her and her husband at their farm, which was so incredibly kind.

We proceeded to walk around Dundee. Having had the sleep of my life on the bus, I was ready to go, but what I failed to realize until much later was the fragile state my poor mother was in. She hadn’t slept on the plan or bus and was therefore at the point of collapse – and there I was dragging her around greater Dundee with Heather and blabbering on and on about what I remembered and what we did and where we used to go....blah blah blah. My poor Mom. And true to her nature she suffered silently and didn’t say a word. She was excited though when we came across this piper in the city square.

Walking around the campus, I was happy that many things still looked familiar. I recalled where I took classes, saw the development of Belmont residence where I stayed my first semester, and I of course wanted to find Peterson House, where I lived the remainer of that school year.

I chuckled when I saw this sign, which has obviously seen better times. I loved my time at Peterson. I saw the exact spot where I sat twenty years ago with my hockey bag (instead of a suitcase) and I met John Hain who helped me move my luggage. I climbed to the third story to find our old flat only to discover they had changed the numbering on all the flats. I did find a familiar view though.  I recalled sitting on the third story and looking at the River Tay and Kingdom of Fife that lay beyond it.

It was lovely to walk around Dundee. Many things were familiar, yet the nostalgia was less than what I expected. I no longer had an address of my own there. My friends were no longer there. I was merely a visitor. But then again, aren’t we all?

Church door, Broughty Ferry

That afternoon we made our way to Heather and her husband Peter’s farm in Cupar. I have always loved its name, Stirton Farm, and was happy to be able to spend some time in the country. Shortly after arriving, I was a little embarrassed to fall asleep mid sentence in Heather’s living room. Mom still laughs about it – that scene of me falling asleep sitting straight up, mid way through a sentence. After a quick nap, we had a lovely home-made meal that was followed by a few glasses of wine, a great evening of conversation and a lot of remising.

The next day Heather took Mom and me on a tour of the farm. Having been built in 1796, Heather’s house was lovely. We thoroughly enjoyed walking through the fields surrounding the house and barns. Words cannot describe how lovely this farm is and I was in my glory strolling through the fields.

 

That afternoon Heather drove us to Perth where we were to meet with Elizabeth and William MacIntosh whom I had also met during my year in Dundee twenty years ago. Now both in their 80s, they both looked great. They were incredibly funny and witty and we enjoyed a lot of laughter over a cup of tea. I was so delighted to see them both. They were so kind to me during my year in Dundee. They even saw me off at Glasgow airport when I left and I can still recall them waving to me as I departed. It was such a nice way to end that year. I got to know them as they were friends of my cousin Joe Lewis, who has since died. I couldn’t stop thinking about Joe the entire time I was there and couldn’t help but feel that he was happy I was there visiting with Elizabeth and William.

Before I knew it, we were back on a bus for Glasgow and my stroll down memory lane was over. It was nice to see the Muirheads and MacIntoshs. The rest of Scotland remained and Mom and I were more than ready.

 

Stay tuned..

Les Mis

This week I finally had the chance to go and see Les Misérables. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. I recall Anne Hathaway saying in an interview that the movie was an “up close and personal view” of the musical and I now understand what she meant. Firstly, let me say I have never actually seen the musical or read the book. I recall walking by the Les Mis theatre in both Paris and London many years ago and lamenting that at that time I couldn’t go because I could not afford it. My introduction to Les Mis came in 1992. During my first year at Acadia, I lived in residence and my roommate was music major. She went home a lot on the weekends and was kind enough to let me use her cassette player when she wasn’t there. Long and behold, she had a cassette of Les Mis. I started listening to it and was immediately hooked.

While watching the movie, I know the basic story line and I was able to (very quietly) sing along with the majority of the musical numbers. There were two things about the movie that struck me. Firstly was how the film was shot. I caught myself thinking that many stills could be Annie Leibovitz like photographs as the scenes were framed so beautifully. Being able to look into the actors eyes so closely resulted in an incredibly dramatic movie experience.

The second thing that struck me was how well the movie was cast. Hugh Jackman was amazing. Russell Crowe, although portraying a very believable Inspector Javert, unfortunately could not – sing – very – well. Two of my favourites, however, were Sacha Baren Cohen (Thénardier, Thernardier) and Helena Bonham Carter (Madame Thenardier). They were both priceless. I didn’t even realize they were in the movie. Seeing Cohen in his first scene, I recall my face scrunching up as I thought “Really?” I am happy to say I was proved wrong.

This story hits all the themes - broken dreams, unrequited love, passion and sacrifice. I laughed and surprisingly, I even cried. Not has an ending got me so badly since the first time I saw Matthew die in the theatre production of Anne of Green Gables when I was eleven. I am looking forward to watching it again and will be curious to see the Oscar distribution a week from now.

Searching your heart

Yes, I would like to give a lot of things that I do not have to give. So I search my heart this Christmas and ask myself, am I giving what I have to give? I cannot give peace to the whole world, but I can share with a few my faith in the Prince of Peace. I cannot feed all of the hungry people on earth, but I can make a donation to some organization that is trying to help, and I can feed one, or two or three who are close at hand. I cannot heal all of the world’s heartache, but I can tell a few that God cares, and I can reinforce that message by showing them that I care.

We can also begin by not being so economical with our smiles. Don’t hoard your laughter. Don’t be a miser with your praise. Don’t get too cranky to enjoy children. There is enough heartache in the world without our adding to it. There is more than enough loneliness. One of the finest things that any of us could do is to help take some of it away. Have we really shared this Christmas? We cannot share, in the truest sense of the word, unless we care. Do we really care? Are we concerned for someone?

 

- Father Joe Rossiter

Christmas

Yes, it is February. Yes, Christmas has come and gone. And what a wonderful Christmas it was. We were busy, yet I had lots of time to relax. A lot of people dropped by, yet we had ample time to visit family and friends. It wasn’t completely drama free – but what Christmas is?

I got home on the Friday before Christmas. Early the next day the first item on the agenda was our yearly meat pie marathon. I presented Mom with the matching aprons I purchased especially for the occasion. This of course resulted in a few raised eyebrows and comments from the men, but we forged on giggling in our matching apparel. We are never sure how many pies we will make as we simply go until we run out of meat. This year, we reached our largest yield ever: 17 pies. Here are 15 and ¼ - and a sultana cake that we threw in for good measure.

Crafts have seemed to work their way into my Christmas the past two years. Last year it was making buttons. This year it concerned dried Scottish Heather and seashells.  Mom produced the heather, seashells and a shadow box Christmas Eve and said “We need to put this together for Karen.” I then vaguely recalled Mom mentioning she was making this part of Karen’s Christmas gift. I thought Mom had a plan. We she told me she didn’t, I recall feeling a small surge of panic upon the discovery that this was to be a collaborative effort. We proceeded to make a tremendous mess. There was Heather e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e. The end product though, turned out quite well if I do say so myself.

Every year we try and some different tree themes and some different decorations. I have wanted to have a gingerbread man themed tree for the past few years. We attempted making a few last year with disastrous results. This year, Mom made and decorated 25 little men, most of which were happy, with the exception of one little fella. Ah, my Mother and her sense of humour.

We also added a little memory of our Scottish trip to the tree:

Mom always does such a great job of picking out a perfect size tree. After many years of having Dad arrive home with a tree the size of the house, Mom now makes a point of always joining him on that annual trek to MacGillvary’s tree farm. What is with men and big tress? Seeing as this is a family friendly blog, I will not go there.

In front of the tree is the most precious of gifts – a family heirloom. The table was purchased by my great-grandmother Josephine (MacAulay) Steele with money she made growing and selling strawberries. This table, along with a few press back chairs and a rocker were placed in her parlour in the “eastern place” on what is now Steele’s Lane. The table ended up in her daughter’s (my grandmother) living room for many years and finally used by my Uncle as a bedside table. Too big for my Uncle’s current room, My Mom had it refinished and gave it to me. It now resides in our living room and I will treasure it forever. I hope Josephine is happy to see it cleaned up and well cared for again.

My Mother always does such a great job decorating with pine. It was incorporated into several arrangements around the house, as well as on top of the mantle.

This Christmas holiday we had an additional family get together to mark a special milestone. My sister-in-law organized a small gathering to celebrate her Dad and our Dad’s 75^th birthdays. It was just family and a few friends with some food, drink and cake of course. The one screw up was made by me. When I got the cakes, I asked for one to say “Happy Birthday Warren” and the other to say “Happy Birthday Bob.” And I obviously wasn’t paying close enough attention as when I got home, I laughed when I saw the cakes. Need I say more:

The Mahar sisters

All in all, I had a wonderful holiday at home. My Mom put so much effort into making it wonderful for all of us. Christmas this year reminded me how blessed I am. And I hope it was a wonderful holiday season for you all as well.