Tsunami

A girl from the prairies can't know this sound,

this roar from the beach.

She can't know that when she turns the corner 

to see the noise, she will be afraid.

The beach is crowded, kids pounding the sand

bare feet dodging to stay ahead of the rising foam.

roaring water hurling toward them as they scream and yell

She grabs his arm. He's shouting to the others

Pointing and laughing.  Wow!  Let's go!  Let's go!

Wait, her head is saying. Something is wrong

Something bad is going to happen

She sees the water wild, out of control - like the tsunami on TV

Terror rising in her throat, she starts running back up the beach

They call to her but she runs faster.

California Dreamin'

We've been living in Calfornia for awhile - a winter vacation.
The sun has been shining a lot, and this seems to have surprised the natives. "Oh yeah - we've had terrible weather lately" they say "even our summer wasn't good this year".  Be that as it may, as soon as we crossed the line from Oregon to California, the sun came out and it's stayed out ever since. Now, this is North America in January, so we're not talking about shorts and sandals, but for us from Canada, it's like a miracle.
Even more of a miracle is where we are in California.  Even been to Carmel, California?  Ever caught sight of the ocean when you weren't expecting to?  The waves in Carmel/Monterey California are truly "Hollywood" waves.  These waves simply roar - they roar in and out and up and down.  They crash into the rocks, climb up the craggy edges, bang against whatever is in the way.  People stand in awe. People are struck dumb by this spectacle. It comes in all forms. There are big-sigh waves, angry waves, show-off waves, king-of-the-castle waves and everything in between.
Sunsets are glorious, too.  Huge, rich and red, coloring the sky pink and coral. We're living in an apartment high up with a balcony. It looks down on huge trees of all kinds, with lots of invisible real estate underneath.  Through this, we get just a slice of the ocean, but it's a pretty good slice considering the price we're paying.  And if we're here at 5:15, Merv is usually out getting yet another shot of the sunset. This is also a sight that makes you feel very small.  It's the way the planet works - just doing what it's always done. Whatever or whoever is paying attention is of no interest to the principals involved.
Some of us respond to "planet" stuff with awe and fear.  All the stuff about "light years" and "black holes" and discovery of strange planets that may or may not have life on them.  Those shots the satellites take of outer space can be daunting, especially if you're the kind of person who is inclined to put music in the background - scary music filled with unknown chords and keys.
I mean - would you sign up for an interplanetary space journey?  The answer to that question definitely separates the men from the boys. And an ocean that is rich with movement and drama seems to belong somewhat in the category of wild and unknown phenomenon. Although I feel privileged to live within walking distance of an ocean beach, this piece of Carmel ocean is another kettle of fish entirely.

the outdoor rink

We were watching the outdoor NHL game last night. I think it was Washington playing in Pittsburgh.
It reminded me of a story a good friend told me one time.

"In 1940, my parents rented one of the very few houses in the east end of Regina, Saskatchewan, right next to Wascana lake. Along the lake was a wide open stretch of land.  Us boys in the neighborhood took it over. We built a football field, a baseball diamond and a 3 hole golf course.

When winter came we decided we needed a hockey rink.  In those days people didn't have running water or sewer in their houses.  We had to haul water for drinking, cooking, laundry and bathing from a "standard" at the corner of each city block.  We decided to build our rink under the street light adjacent to the standard so we'd be close to our water source.  The first year we ended up with a kind of pond surrounded by snow drifts and we spent more time looking for the puck than we did playing hockey.  Next year, they were building "wartime houses" in the area, and a delegation of us asked the contractor for the concrete forms left over from poring the basements.  He agreed and all of a sudden we had a hockey rink with real boards.  The installation wasn't easy as we had to build supports to hold the boards and then freeze them in place.  But the parents pitched in to help and we got the job done.  It was becoming a neighborhood project.  I can't really remember if any girls were interested, but I don't think so. I would have remembered.
As we progressed to a regulation size hockey rink with real boards, we encountered new problems.  It was almost impossible to flood this rink from the "standard" because of the low water pressure.  So our delegation went to City Hall to see if the fire department would help us by flooding the rink from the fire hydrant across the road.  They agreed to do it right after freeze up.  The day they did it was a very exciting day for us.  All that ice, and the boards around the ice.  It seemed like a miracle.  And after another delegation, they flooded it one more time during the winter.
Every kid would be out there from early morning until dark on Saturday and Sunday and on week days we started playing hockey right after school.  Warm-up for the game was cleaning the snow from the ice with home made pushers.  As things progressed, we built a "shack" with a wood stove.  We'd all huddle in this primitive little structure and drink ginger ale and act like real hockey pros after a full day's practice session.  I can't remember where we got the stove, but it's amazing we didn't burn the whole place down.
I was never a very good skater, so I always ended up playing goal.  I would strap "Eaton's" catalogues to my legs with electricians tape and sealer rings - and the odd old pillow as a chest protector.  No head or face gear except for a toque.  As I remember, I was fearless, and to this day I can show you the indentations in my shins from those encounters.
We would spend hours on this rink, go home exhausted, and be right out there again next morning. We were extremely poor in those days, but in many ways our boyhood was full and rich, and I remember it with great fondness."
Such a good story of one man's boyhood in a Prairie town in the 1940's.
Our boys also played a lot of outdoor hockey when they were young. We lived in a little house close to the school rink, and they would put on their skates at home and walk over to the rink of an evening - play until the lights went out, and sometimes longer.  But in their generation, there was the big indoor fancy rink down town, and they would play school hockey there the odd time, or go to the "general skating" on a weekend. They would skate as long as allowed, and show off in front of the girls.
I read in the paper today, that boys hockey in Canada is not # 1 anymore.  It's soccer.  Very likely this is as much about money and the difficulty of getting on a team as anything else.
But for whatever reason, times they are a-changin'.

know any good jokes?

Laughter.  I miss it.  We would laugh so much when we were kids. Big bursts of laughter. Trying to catch your breath laughter.  Stopping and then erupting again laughter.  Almost weeping laughter.  It was always with girlfriends - mostly in a girlfriend's bedroom where we all went for privacy back in those days of tiny little homes. It could start over anything. Something that happened in school or in our own kitchens, or at the store or just talking.  Girls are giggly, and anything could set us off.  "she started down the hill, and then things went way too fast, and her legs  - - - ".  Laughter in wave after wave, in glorious eruptions. We'd try to talk again, or add some fresh take on the scene - the laughter would start again and you wouldn't be able to finish. Helpless, uncontrollable laughter, and the best fun ever. Not sure whether "side-splitting" is still used, but it's true.  Sometimes, you thought that you would break something inside your body.  The most painful sessions would be in the middle of class.  Something would set us off, just 2 or 3 good girlfriends with the same sense of humor.  Maybe an answer to a question, or a silly face by the classroom clown. Then we'd try to be quiet, and the laughter would become almost a sob.  We'd get it under control, and then one of us would turn to look back at the other, and it would start again.  The teacher would know exactly what was going on and we would be scolded.  It usually ended there.  Sometimes something would happen in church, and then we'd have to deal with parents.  I still remember running out of the church one time, because I simply could not stop laughing.  It was such a high.  Boys didn't seem to do it as much, and they would be inclined to look over at us as if we were nuts, with that "I hope they aren't laughing at me" take on it.  I remember how good we felt after a laughing fit.  Very exhilarated.Very loose.Very energetic.
I don't have a sense of when that kind of sheer hilarity stopped.  I remember laughing a lot well into our twenties, but not as much as the years went by.  Sad.  I said to a friend the other day that I wanted to start a "laughter" file.  She sent me something not long after, but it didn't work. Really good laughter has to be spontaneous, I think.  It's not something you can book into your week.  "Let's see now, I'll book laughter for Friday night.  I think that would be a good night to laugh".
I read something last week that started me thinking about the subject.
"Laughing is found to lower blood pressure, reduce stress hormones, increase muscle flexion, and boost immune function by raising levels of infection-fighting T-cells.  It triggers the release of endorphins, and produces a general sense of well-being. Hospitals are incorporating formal and informal laughter therapy programs into their therapeutic regimens."
I was watching what could have been one of those programs on YouTube the other day.  Mmmmm.  I'm not sure how really genuine it looked to me.  Seemed there was too much heartiness, too much "put-on" about it, too much trying too hard to make it work.
You can't really make it happen, can you? It's like a special something when you least expect it. You're watching TV for instance.  Golf Channel the other day.  The golfer takes off shoes and socks and steps into the lake.  This is unlikely enough to be funny to start with and then he swings his club real hard and the water floods all over him. The camera zooms into the golf ball sitting in exactly the same spot. It was good for a solid giggle - a "way from the bottom" giggle that is genuine and delightful but doesn't go much further than that. But it felt good.  
 

the empty kitchen

Our Christmas hostess is a wonderful cook.  Not only that, she's gutsy and will take on cooking adventures that would make the rest of us nervous.  But she's not the norm.  And sometimes, I think that our kitchens are losing out to the food industry.
Look at coffee.  We can't compete with coffee in the kitchen any more.  Tim Horton's, Starbucks, in fact a lot of service stations will offer a perfect cup of coffee. Their coffee machines just don't make mistakes.
Baking - who bakes?  My food store has a dessert department that is a block long!  Their cheese cakes alone are astonishing.
This same store has a huge island just for fruit.  2 people do nothing but prepare fruit in all its guises and in all sizes and shapes. Their "made in store" orange juice is spectacular.
Sushi - there's a little counter next to this where hard-working folks are making fresh stuff that I'm increasingly buying and enjoying.
Bread.  Who would bake their own bread anymore.  Go to any good bakery department. The bread is incredible! We just had a bowl of soup for dinner, and I took an ordinary small loaf of frozen garlic bread out of my freezer.  8 minutes later, we enjoyed delicious hot bread, seasoned just right,  buttery and sizzling.
Speaking of soup.  For those of us who come from the Campbell's Soup generation - it's a big big world out there now.  I love to take a good soup and add to it - chicken, clam juice, niblet corn.
You want a great pot roast?  Go to the supermarket. Heat in the oven, succulent with delicious gravy.
You want Yorkshire Pudding to go with it?  Buy it frozen and ready for the oven, or buy it in a package, add an egg and some water, voila - golden, crusty, crunchy and waiting for that gravy.
Meat departments have larger and larger "butcher on call" counters. Here again, the choices of meats and fish that you take home and pop in the oven is growing - they are stuffed, and breaded, and sauced, and put on sticks, and so on. And if you want a salmon fillet for dinner, you get to choose exactly which one you want.
Been to a good deli department lately?  Watch the traffic.  It's endless.  Bean salads, ethnic dishes, three kinds of potato salad (when was the last time you had the nerve or the time to make a potato salad?) You want sliced roast beef? well done? medium? rare? Want a roast chicken?  Singles tell me they can do three nights of dinners with a roast chicken from the deli.
Pizza?  We have a favorite thin dough pizza from the supermarket that is much better than I could make. It's designed perfectly for 2 people, and takes 8 minutes to cook.
We're not talking about feeding a family of five, but in category after category, we are being out-done in the kitchen by store-bought prepared food.  Not that long ago, we rejected most of this stuff.  It didn't measure up, and there's still lots of rejections out there.  But their successes are growing, and will continue to grow.