Is That a Coffin?

Although the train was really moving, I spotted what looked like a coffin on a rock.  It was in the middle of nowhere in Ontario.  A real mystery.
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Santa's Hung Up His Suit

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After sitting in it all night, it probably needed a wash.

Trips to Finland

Sadly, many of these people are gone now.  I miss those times.
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Looking For Work

I found this clipping amongst my Mom's papers and asked her about it.   She had written the date at the bottom.   Mom informed me what amongst those men lining up for a job at a filling station were my Dad and my Uncle Stig.  Check out how all of these men are dressed.  Most are wearing suits.  Can you imagine people  taking the time and effort in today's world to do something like this?
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Well Done to my Brother

RCMP officers assaulted, citizen helps apprehension in Maple Ridge incident

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Woman was acting 'erratically' and attempting to self-harm with sharp metal object, says RCMP

Laura Sciarpelletti · CBC News · Posted: Dec 27, 2019 2:51 PM PT | Last Updated: 15 minutes ago

Two Ridge-Meadows RCMP officers are recovering from injuries after an apprehension attempt became violent on Christmas Day in Maple Ridge, B.C. (David Bell/CBC)

Two Ridge Meadows RCMP officers are recovering from injuries after an apprehension attempt became violent on Christmas Day in Maple Ridge, B.C.

A police officer responded to a report of a suspicious woman causing a disturbance outside a restaurant in the 22700 block of Lougheed Highway at approximately 4 p.m. PT Wednesday.

Police said in a statement that upon arrival officers found the woman was acting "erratically" and attempting to self-harm with a sharp metal object.

The woman then ran into oncoming traffic.

"For her personal safety, the police officer attempted to apprehend the woman. There was a bit of a struggle," said Chris Manseau, B.C. RCMP division media relations officer.

After the woman tried to disarm the officer, the police deployed a Taser, which was ineffective.

Help from the public

Several bystanders filmed the incident with their phones.

"Another [citizen] got out of their car, wanted to help the police officer and tried to control the suspect until other members arrived," said Manseau. 

An additional Ridge Meadows RCMP member and police dog services subsequently arrived on the scene. 

The woman continued to resist the apprehension. During the struggle, one police officer received a lower body injury. Another officer received a slash injury above the shoulders, and later received seven stitches at a hospital, Manseau said. 

RCMP say they will not identify the weapons used in the incident at this time. The cause of the suspect's actions and behaviours are currently unknown, as well as why she had the object. 

The female suspect was then transported to hospital.

In a statement, RCMP said they were glad the citizen left his car to help the police officer. 

"While for everyone's safety we always encourage people to allow the police to do their job, we can't help but be ever so thankful to this citizen, this Good Samaritan, who stepped in and assisted our officer. We are incredibly grateful to this person for their courageous actions," Ridge Meadows Supt. Jennifer Hyland said in a statement.

CBC's Journalistic Standards and Practices|About CBC Ne    . I am proud of my brother  for being the bystander that stepped in.

Please, No More Mariah Carey Christmas Songs

I never liked the woman's music, plus I think she's a spoiled brat.  I also suspect that she doesn't walk like a normal person.   I believe she's like a Barbie Doll, in that she can only walk on her tip-toes.  I suspect that's why you see so many photos of her being carried.  So, here's my submission for a picture that says it all.   If I want to hear somebody yodel, I'll Youtube a herd calling Swiss master.
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Better Times When We Were All Here

Something Written A While Back

Road Trips With Dad
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I can thank Dad for my great bladder control. Despite the copious amount of Diet Pepsi I used to 

consume during my work shift, I don’t have to “go.” Chalk it up to road trips.
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I never saw Disney as a kid. Instead, we would go camping. In the summer, the one route to the lake was through the Fraser Canyon, and the traffic would be crazy. We’d try to get an early start in our attempt to beat the rush, getting up while it was still dark. We wouldn’t have to drive far to leave the lights of Burnaby and the city behind. We called the part of the Fraser Valley I now live “marshmallow land,” as it was so often shrouded in a thick fog, with the tall hops growth on either side creating an almost white cave effect. Should we opt for the by-pass, I’d always make sure to grab a look at the lights of the prison against the mountain as we whizzed past...the illumination casting an eerie glow on the ever persistent haze. As a child, I could never foresee that I would one day end up there.
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It wouldn’t take me long to break into the properly sought and allotted “road trip food.” Over the years, it stayed consistent…..items eaten only on such voyages. When we first started going to the cabin, it was still possible to pick up three items for a penny, a currency which no longer exists. Most of the candy would now be considered highly politically incorrect. There were the candy cigarettes in the bright red box. The cigar shaped licorice or gum; take your pick. There were wax bottles that one chewed the lid off and drank the cloying liquid inside. They looked like those mini booze bottles one spots at the counter in liqour stores. We would chew on the wax afterwards, which would probably be perceived as a choking hazard today. I guess kids back then were more hardy. There was the huge sour circle that resembled a giant quaalude.
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We knew that we wouldn’t be stopping for hours, thus the food. As Dad pointed out, he wasn’t going to pass all the slow drivers only to have to pull over. And let me tell you, there are a vast amount of dreadful drivers. The irony was the naming of their vehicles….monstrous squares with the names of swift beasts driven by terrified old men. In fact, “Turtle” would have been a more appropriate name than “Cougar.” To this day, when I see a Westphalia Van, I feel the urge to drag a razor across my wrists. The drivers could only do the speed limit on flat and straight surfaces, which meant they’d step on it when a passing lane was finally found. Back then, with all that traffic, there weren’t many places on Jackass Mountain, with all its many tunnels, that a person could pass. I’m not a religious person, but there really needs to be a special place in hell for these people.
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As we moved through the canyon, we would pass attractions we never stopped to visit. The old Alexandra Lodge, a building out of the gold rush, advertised “the best hamburgers in the world.” I still recall a strange building with a flat roof that had a sign “deer,” which were, indeed, spotted within. That’s long gone and nobody else recalls the place. Despite the many tour buses, we never took a ride down the Hell’s Gate Air Tram.
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This was the dark ages and we were left to our own devices. There were no DVD’s back then and the radio sucked. Collecting the licence plate numbers and colourings of other travellers’ vehicles became a thing to do. I had to get one from as many provinces and states as possible. I had the backseat to myself as my brother felt better in the front. I shared it with our dog, Tiny. There was no A/C, and a film of white salt would form around her mouth in the intense heat of the canyon. If there was an accident and the traffic backed up, that heat would become overwhelming.
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As we drove, Dad would sometimes make comments about stories on the news. He probably wouldn’t know what the A.C.L.U. was, but he was a fine proponent for its beliefs. I still recall how on one such trip, the song “Indian Reservation” by Paul Revere and the Raiders came on. My dad told us to stop talking and to listen to the words. When he’d first come to this country he’d become ill and spent a significant amount of time in a hospital ward with first nations men who became his friends. For the rest of his life, he taught me not to judge with such little messages.
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It was only at Cache Creek, when the road diverged, that we could stop. The Oasis Hotel had a watering hole for the men, while the women and kids would head off for the cafeteria. I still remember the jewel case on the counter, festooned with lights. What, prey tell, did that case hold? Why, it had a veritable feast of jello squares, some with whipped cream toppings. The colours jiggled and glimmered as the tower slowly turned under the lights. Mom would only order coffee because she was on a diet and would then pick at our plates.
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The bathroom was a mystery at the Oasis. In the long row of toilets, all of them cost a dime to enter, save the one at the end. This stall was festooned with grafitti from people passing through on the many busses that stopped...women searching for a better life in Vancouver than the one they’d had in some small town in the prairies. One year I saved ten cents to check out the special offerings of the pay toilets, and found no free moist towelettes or spray perfume samples. There was more toilet paper and less writing on the wall. You don’t always get what you pay for, a lesson learned.
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Before we started the final leg of our voyage, we would hit the lobby, which had a magazine and book rack. Over the years, my selections changed. At first, I would buy comics such as Ripleys Believe it or Not. Then, as I aged, it would be Teen, Seventeen and Rona Barett’s Hollywood. Dad would re-emerge from the watering hole of males and we would hit the road again.

Book Lover

 I can't recall if I've posted this or not, but it reflects my love of books.
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The Fifty Cent Poetry Book Found in A Bin
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I found the poetry book in the clearance bin.
Your book, Dan. From Jean.
Once you’d underlined passages and turned down pages. And now, here it is, with Jazzercize and Wham.
That strange smell, a CSI cross of cat lady house and moss. What path took it here?
Your notes, still visible in the margins.
Did your love of verse die, or did you?
Your belongings piled into a box without thought
With texts deemed of no value.
Or did age make you lose interest in words,
As the everyday beat-down blues hit?

The baby, the bills, the roof?
Was Jean an old lover, discovered at last?
Fini with Jean. With poetry. With the escape to Paris.
What books interest you now, Dan?

The everyday mechanics of fixing a toilet?Or do they beckon you yet; 
Does Lord Byron still tempt? Like the ice cream hidden, but not forgotten.
Should we meet, Dan, I have your book.
My own passages underlined now, along with yours.
We can escape together.
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In Honour of Mom and Dad (with assorted other relatives)

What I'm Currently Reading (Spoon River Anthology)

A Beautiful Place

Harbours (Scenes from Nova Scotia)

T

Who Knew?

They look so content as they walk on a beach in Finland.  All appears calm.  That's my grandfather on the far right, with my grandmother at his side.  They are walking with friends.  The man in the hat looks like he'd be a fun guy.
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In a few years, my grandfather was dead.  He died in the war, 
fighting for Finland on the Russian front.  He was a man who loved playing his violin.  He enjoyed writing and drawing pictures as he did so.  My grandmother was left a young widow and my mother never got to know her Dad, as only his body returned.
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In the photo below, he is playing with his siblings.  BTW, notice the cat.  I guess it's a genetic thing.  His sister's husband ended up  also dying, according to Mom, on the front.  As a result, she suffered with emotional issues.  As to the younger boy, he too did not survive, if I recall what my mother told me.
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The wages of war effect and destroy many.  Let's hope there's a chance for Peace on Earth, although I doubt it.
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When a Photo Tells a Truth

This photo certainly captures my mood as of late.