Holy Crap It's Christmas Eve

The Honest Season

This time of year is revealing. When the leaves fall, you see things that the trees normally hide. Houses you only had inkling were there. Dilapidated barns and sheds held up by one or two posts, waiting for a good stiff wind to knock them down – they never seem to tear anything down around here, it just kind of eventually falls down. When these wonderful trees are naked you catch glimpses the rusted cars and old washing machines and other crap as you ride through the countryside..

Don't get me wrong. Tennessee is not rife with garbage. The landscape is quite pretty here.

What's different from Western Canada, and what has taken me some time to adjust to, are the number of people. They're everywhere. And maybe because the trees make such a convenient hiding place, people are not quite as conservation conscious as they should be.

I’m telling you, you couldn’t throw a dead possum around here without hitting some sign of man.

So when the leaves come crashing down, sins are revealed.

Huck Finn

We rented a cabin in the Smoky Mountains this last weekend. The mountains are a two-three hours away and the cabins make for fun and restful getaways. A couple of friends, Bruce and Alma Anderson, spent a night with us too. Enjoyed it heaps.

The day we arrived, we ate a tasty but surreal meal in Pigeon Forge at a place called Huck Finns. Huck’s is a vittle-eating baseball-cap-wearing baby-crying kind of joint with menu items like hush puppies, frog legs, gator bites, catfish and other Southern favorites. While I didn’t see any possum gravy, I think Granny Clampett would fall in love with Huck Finn’s. From the giant plastic catfish nailed to the walls to the signs with the misspellings and backward lettering, it screams “hillbilly and proud of it.”

We ate at another popular place called the Old Mill. One of those comfort food places with a lot of Southern fare and some real history behind it. In 1783 - 1854, it was part of a small industrial complex on the Pigeon River that included an iron forge for which Pigeon Forge was named. During the U.S. Civil War (1861-1865), the mill powered looms which produced cloth for the military. You see, you never know in a touristy-circus city like Pigeon Forge if what you are looking at is hoke or the genuine article.

You gotta love stereotypes. They sure draw in the tourists. Not that there aren’t rednecks, moonshiners and other heehaws roaming the hills and hollers of Tennessee. They have their fair share of them. Just like Western Canada has its fair share of genuine cowboys but really lays it on thick when everyone dons boots and stetsons and becomes a rootin’ tootin’ callaballootin’ cowpoke for the ten days of the Calgary Stampede. Yeehaw.

Yessir pard, behind almost every stereotype, there is a grain of truth. Which leads me to this thought - it isn’t the size of the stereotype that matters but what you do with it that counts.

Opening A Store

Christmas has inspired me. I’m going to open a store. Call it “Useless Crap.” There are plenty of stores that sell items that belong in such a store but I think that my customers will appreciate the honesty of actually calling it like it is. If the crowds I see lining up and buying all of that crap are any indication, I feel my store should be very popular indeed.

New School

Elisabeth is teaching at a new school after Christmas. It is a ten-minute drive from the house instead of the half hour she drives now. Small classes of 8-10 instead of 30. She has worked with the new principle before and thoroughly likes him. She is the envy of many of her colleagues – they would teach there if they could.

What's interesting is it is an alternative school and the last chance for students with behavior problems before they are sent to reform school. Strict rules and security. No homework – in many cases, it would not make it back to the school. They can’t even be trusted with notebooks that have wire bindings – they might cut themselves.

E says that when she heard about the job opening, there was a little voice that pushed her to apply. She says she wants to help the students, to give them the tools they need to function normally in society. She wants to make them think, to help them realize there is more to life than the limited existence they lead. If anyone can do that, it is Elisabeth. She has a way with hard cases. I’m proud of her.

National Educational Telecommunications Association Award

The magazine I put together for the TV station is receiving a national award. I’ll be trundling on in to Nashville to accept it in January. I’m hoping to use that award as a springboard and inspire other PBS stations into creating something similar. Who knows what will happen from here? It's been a heck of a ride these last few years and I have the feeling, more than ever, that anything is possible.

Christmas Plans

Hanging out with Elisabeth’s family and our friends. There is a nor’wester blowin’ in and I’ll reckon we’ll have snow for Christmas Day. Yay! That’s rare around here. Time for some serious snow angels.

I can see your smiling faces in my mind, bathed in the warm glow of the holidays. I wish I could give you all a big Christmas hug –you’re in my thoughts and in my heart. Merry Christmas.

Love & Light.

Expect Visitors

I just shooed a couple of Mormons away from my front door. Pesky things. Well, maybe they aren't so bad, in spite of the expose I saw on "60 Minutes." Mormons dress nicely and are polite. They look like they live as they preach. A couple of them once pushed my car out of a snowdrift. I wish them the best of luck when it comes to making it onto God’s VIP list. I just do not wish to hear them jabber about it.

The two boy missionaries asked me if anyone had ever talked to me about the Book of Mormon. I told them yes, the attempt had been made about 43,000 times. I smiled and said I exaggerate a little. Not much but a little. Then I invited them to take that long walk up our freshly paved driveway and find someone else with whom to talk. They asked if I knew anyone that needed to be saved.

Expect visitors.

Close Enough

It’s hard to hate Martha Stewart. She’s on the tele right now in all of her self-important glory, gracefully stirring the lumps out of turkey gravy with two young, overly exuberant Today Show hosts who, like nubile, bouncing bookends, are gushing over Martha. In contrast, Martha is showing the world that calm, queenly smile, totally in control. A pretty woman on the outside. Beneath that calm, cool exterior, she may be a manipulative, evil, soul sucker but it’s hard to hate Martha. Even if she bores me damn near to death.

Ah she’s gone now. She seems to have left the bookends behind. Lucky me.

So happy American Thanksgiving my friends. The Macy’s Day parade is about to start. The nubiles have been replaced by a fedora-wearing Al Roker chattering empty-headedly at a vacuous Jessica Simpson as a giant Snoopy balloon floats serenely behind them. Makes the world seem innocent and Disney-like. That’s not a bad thing. If only for a while. A little tapioca pudding for the brain.

I wish Al was less of a buffoon but oh well, he’s a happy buffoon. I’ll scoot him over to the side of the pudding dish with my spoon.

Four days off. Roast turkey injected with cajun spice in my near future. Every year I celebrate two Thanksgivings - how tasty is that? Canadian Thanksgiving was full of friends and laughter. Our guests paid homage to Canadian Thanksgiving by bringing Canuck doodads for the Canadian alter. Canada Dry, real maple syrup, Crown Royal and a moose candle. Thoughtful people. Next year I am hoping for Canadian bacon. Maybe a toque.

Today is a warm, windy day. I may putter around the yard. I’m courting a cold but in what fantastic world is everything perfect? Close enough, say I. Close enough.

Love and light y'all.

Silly

Click on the link if you dare...

blues & brews

Booga-Booga

Tasted the genteel life this slow Sunday morn. Sat in the comfy chair in the upstairs vestibule in the gentle light from the big windows with the holstein cat as company and read a chapter from "Midnight in the Garden of Good And Evil." I haven't had the chance to read much lately except for the 15 minutes I usually take before bedtime. My trip through the sights and sounds of Savannah was abruptly broken when the graceful Sweet-Pea fell from the window ledge. With a dignity and convenient memory reserved for fallen cats, she wandered off with a cartoon bubble over her head, exclaiming "Who me? Fall? Why the notion is utterly preposterous! Wait, what's that over there? A piece of string? How interesting!"

There is a little less of me these days. Elisabeth too. We are being faithful to our Weight Watchers diet and it is turning into a lifestyle. No temptations to fall off the wagon. Yet. Santa, we've been extreeeee good this year. For Christmas, could you please bring me a chunk of chocolate cake the size of your big ole fat head?

Chatted with Dad last night. He told me he had an eye appt. and the medico told him that he had no trace of diabetes, for which he had been previously diagnosed. Apparently there is a symptom which manifests itself in your eyes. He also has 20-20 vision. He'll be 81 in October. Not bad dear Dad. Diet, exercise and attitude. I hope both my vision, attitude and social life is as acute as yours in my later years.

Well, maybe not the social life. Whenever possible, which is not often these days, I'm finding the life of a creative recluse more appealing.

In retirement, I picture my skinny self in a dirty white robe galavanting through the woods behind my house, scaring the deer and 'possums, shouting "Booga-Booga" and laughing maniacally. After a long day of booga-booga-ing, I'll come in for a nice cat food dinner. My lovely wife will inquire about my day and I about hers. There will be reading by the fire, interspersed with oh-so-pleasant conversation. Every now and again, there will be contemplation of the vastness of the universe on the swings in the backyard while staring with wonder into the heavens on starry, starry nights. There will be time to create tiny universes of my own on the computer screen, clever, twisted, colourful little worlds conjured up from a photo I have taken. Perhaps I'll write a word or two in a weak moment, an article, a short story, a dirty joke. And maybe, just maybe, once in a blue moon, I will put on something besides a dirty white robe and visit with a friend or two because in all honesty, while I am at the moment not that fond of humanity in general, I do have some kick-ass friends in particular.

Ah but for now, my kick-ass friends, the show must go on!

WCTE is hosting Blues & Brews in October. One of my jobs is to create the promotional campaign, plus the illustrations, posters, on-air spots, print ads and, well, everything. Tomorrow morning I will become Dr. Fun, a Medicine Show Snake-Oil salesman, and shoot a spot for a Blues & Brews commercial. Always a new adventure on the horizon- I haven't starred in a commercial before.

Dancing As Fast As I Can

We jumped in a rental car this summer and drove 4 days to Drumheller. I really wanted to see my Dad and we couldn't get a decent fare on plane tickets. Five days in Alberta, a smile at a couple of friends (wish we could have seen everyone but alas...) then another 4 day drive home. Packed a lot in a few days. Below are but a few photos from that action-packed trip...

Elisabeth was delighted to see a cattle drive right next to and on the highway in Montana. This was taken from the car window.

This is what a Southern family looks like (if you count Southern Alberta). Ain't we... somethin'?

Hugs and, well, more hugs for Brent and Mary-Anne who motored in from Saskatchewan to visit.

Two and a half men - Me, Neil the Smurf and Wild Jim.

Mmmmm, doughnuts.

The mountains will do that for you. Make you all happy and smiley and such.

Neil teaching Kathy how to use her new camera to take most excellent photographs.

Dad and his great friend Betty.

From the foreground, my friend Terry (who drove out and spent the day in Drumheller with us), Dad, Patty (Betty's daughter), Elisabeth and Wilf (Betty's son-in-law). Betty is standing. Wonderful people.

Savannah

At the beginning of April, Elisabeth and I felt the need to escape so we took a few days during her spring break and motored down to Savannah Georgia. Elisabeth promptly caught the crud and spent most of the first day sniffling and snoozing in the hotel room while I wandered around the historic district taking photos. You can't keep a good woman down and she wasn't going to miss the sightseeing. By the second day, fortified by cold medicine, she joined me and we toured the old city. Since we were staying on the edge of the historic district, I parked the car for two days and we took the trolley or walked everywhere.

The city was settled in 1733, and has survived the Revolutionary and the U.S. Civil War. There is history everywhere you turn. The original Savannah was built with 22 park-like squares where residents could gather to play or meet or celebrate. Filled with grand old oaks, Spanish Moss, gorgeous flowers and statutes depicting the city's historic figures, these pretty squares were the perfect place to park your butt after strolling around in the "already-too-warm-for-the-Canadian" heat. In one of those parks, Forest Gump parked his butt on a bench and told anyone that would listen that life was like a box of chocolates. A Gump look-alike boarded one of our trolley tours and entertained us for a block or so before he ran off lickety-split just like Forest did in the movie (run Forest run).

There are kick-ass ghost stories here. A big battle was fought in Savannah during the Revolutionary War and part of the city was built on the mass graves. According to the local tour guides, many of the old soldiers continue to roam the streets. There are plaintive ghosts, mean ghosts, comfortable companion ghosts - there is even an evil house or two.

Elisabeth and I toured the Sorrel-Weed House (we were greeted by a tour guide from Prince Albert Sask (picured here). In that cheesy TV show, the Ghost Hunters, TAPS examined this house and found evidence of paranormal activity including an EVP (sound measurement) of a voice in the Carriage House. According to the stories, the mistress of the house caught her husband with a slave woman in the Carriage House, went back to the main house and killed herself by jumping off a balcony into the courtyard. The husband was devastated and retreated to the house for a few weeks. Allegedly he sent a couple of thugs up to the slave's room in the Carriage House (photo on left) where they killed his former lover. That is the room where TAPS found the EVP. Elisabeth had her Droid with her (fancy-assed phone with internet) and called up this EVP while we were standing in the courtyard (photo below), outside of the room where it was recorded. I have to admit to a couple of tingles.

The evil Mercer House below, featured in the book and movie, "The Garden of Good and Evil," has allegedly killed a number of people.

And a ghost we found on the tour...

On the last night we stayed on Tybee Island in a beachside hotel, about 20 minutes from Savannah. We enjoyed wandering down the beach and venturing into the cool Atlantic waters. It was fun but I don't think we'll go back. Too touristy. Below is the view from our room.