Tag Archives: Rain

Heaven on Earth

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth.
One is nearer to God in a garden
Than any place else on earth.

Dorothy Francis Gurney

The above is an exert from a poem by Dorothy Francis Gurney; I used to have a wooden plaque hanging in my garden with that verse on it.

Through the worst times of my life I have found comfort in my garden. When JC and I were at the resort I spent hours tending my garden, crying, praying for answers, praying for strength, praying for my son and my brother, praying to be given one more chance to save my boy, praying for serenity, and sometimes cursing God for giving me too much to handle.

I always came away from my garden feeling calmer, stronger; it was my refuge. It has been for most of my life. When I lived at the lake before I even met JC I would be out there with a flashlight and a glass of wine tending my garden. It seemed the harder the time I was going through the more beautiful my gardens were. Every year I dug up more sod for more flowers. The little English lady that lived across the street and could barely walk made her way across the road slowly with her walker and came up to where I was pulling weeds and she said, ” I want to thank you for your lovely gardens. I look out my window and your gardens take me back to my childhood and the lovely English gardens. You have a loving touch; I’ve watched you. I just wanted you to know you have given this old lady much pleasure with your gardens.” and she shuffled back to her house. I’ll never forget it and of course I cried.

When we were at the resort I couldn’t afford plants but all the neighbour brought over plants and bulbs as they thinned out their gardens, one brought over a filing box with tons of different seeds for me to pick from. It was a tough year emotionally, like I said, I did alot of praying. It was the most beautiful garden I’ve ever had.

Gardening is so community minded, it brings people together, gives them something to talk about. A person can be talking by and feel free to say, “Your garden is lovely”. Or gardeners are always so willing to share plants, advice, and ask questions. Somehow a garden removes fences, class distinction, age, and even gender, gardeners are all on the same team.

I missed my gardens this year, I planted gardens last year and got compliments but I didn’t take the time to enjoy them because I was on borrowed time there and was trying to work as much as possible. This year I did plant some, but lack of water took its toll.

I pray that someday I have a tiny place, nothing fancy, I’m easy to please. 400 sq ft would do me just fine, with a fireplace (there is nothing like coming home from a long walk on a brisk fall day and the house is toasty warm from a crackling fire) There are few things more rewarding than getting up in the morning to a cold house and finding a few red embers still in the wood stove because all that’s necessary is to pull ghetto damper and throw on a few dry pieces of wood and in minutes the house is warm again.
I want a kitchen big enough that I can cook a pot of soup or chilli or maybe a pot roast and have a few friends over to share my fire and a bottle of wine.  lots of windows to let the sun shine in and hang crystals in. And a covered porch to hang wind chimes and a wooden rocking chair so I can sit out there even when it rains. One wall of book shelves for all those books I keep moving with me and some day want to read, but they look good until then. 🙂 I love books.

A place I can paint. A freezer I can fill with baking at Christmas and maybe even some cabbage rolls and tourtierre. A bath tub I can fill with bubble bath and keep adding hot water to until I am pink and wrinkly.

And a tiny yard trimmed with gardens.

And never have to move; just grow old there, Grandma’s house. Where my son and grand daughter can come to visit and know there are cookies in the cookie jar and my son will go to the freezer and grab some frozen cookies and I can give him shit for eating them before Christmas.

That is what I pray for. Not much, nothing fancy; not a knight in shining armor to save me, no trips around the world. Just a little bit of heaven on earth. The sun for pardon, the bbirds song for mirth.

What for you pray for?

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Why on Earth did I Stay

As his hands tightened around my neck I struggled but he was much stronger than I. I felt my body go limp as everything went black. My last thought was, “He is going to feel so bad when he realizes what he’s done.”

Then I was gasping for air. I was disoriented and realized I was on the floor of the truck and scrambled to get back on the seat. I expected him to be as shocked and horrified as I was over what just happened but he put the truck in gear and stared straight ahead not saying a word.

I was numb with disbelief, I wanted him to hold me, I wanted it to not have happened because now I knew I had to make a choice. I had always sworn if any man hit me I would be gone so fast his head would spin but now faced with the situation it wasn’t  that easy. When we pulled in the driveway 5 minutes later he said, “That’s it. I want you out, its over.”

I don’t recall what I said, I know I was shocked at the fact that we were both so calm. I felt I should be angry, or crying or indignant but all I wanted was for him to hold me. I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t as horrified as me. I don’t recall what I said  but I’ll never forget the look on his face or the tone of his voice when he said, “You ungrateful fucking bitch I shouldn’t have stopped when I did”

I was numb, confused, this was NOT JC, he was the most nonviolent man I had ever known. Sure we’d been having problems but he never even swore when he hurt himself working on the truck. He was unflapable JC never lost control. I didn’t know this cold, distant man that just told me he should have killed me. I was sure he must feel awful, I wanted to put my head on his shoulder and have him hold me, to look in his eyes and see love and not hate. So after a few hours I went out to the shop, he was cold and pulled away from me when I went to touch him. He refused to talk to me so I went back in the house. The next morning he took the house phone with him to work and I was home alone with my thoughts.

Stress, my God, we had so many things happen in the first few months we were together and he’d always stayed so calm, distant yes but not angry and hateful. I was sure with time we could talk like we always did and work it out.

In the first 6 months we had lived together we had made the deal on the house, he had been unjustly fired from his job at the resort (I didn’t know that JC gets “unjustly” fired from every job he has and never lasts more than a few months); I was his staunch supporter and assured him we’d get through it together. He proposed.

My brother confessed to the family something I am not at liberty to discuss here but it had been extremely traumatic for my whole family especially my mom who couldn’t handle it and washed her hands of the whole situation. So it had fallen on my shoulder to be support my brother and mother. My son had gotten involved in drugs and gangs and my family told me I had loved him too much when he was a child, I had spoiled and ruined him. My mom told me to forget I ever had him. JC held me and said there was no way I could turn my back on him now.

He was on the streets some where and I was frantic to find him. My mom kept calling crying about my brother and one day I said, “You know mom I am worried about my brother too but I also have a son out on the streets some where that I am worried sick about.” and her reply was,”but your brother has so much more to lose.” I asked, “So you are saying my son’s life is not as valuable as my brother’s?” JC held me when I cried.

With everything JC’s support was unwavering.

I lost my job 3 months after we moved in and then we got news that JC’S dad had cancer throughout his body and had been given only months to live.  JC got a job and his dad died 2 weeks later, he had flown out for 2 days, worked for 2 weeks and flown back for the funeral. He had been extremely close to his dad and I knew he must be hurting but he had hardly cried or talked about it. I wasn’t sure how to handle it.  He became obsessed about how much money I was spending and insisted I owed him thousands of dollars and that is what the fight was about when he strangled me. He was wrong about the money but I was sure it wasn’t the money anyway; he was hurting and I was going to figure out how to help him.

And that’s why I stayed at first.

I was making as much on unemployment benefits as I would have working and I didn’t mind playing the role of homemaker. I didn’t know it at the time JC was disabling my vehicle; as far as I knew it had mechanical problems and when JC said I couldn’t drive it I didn’t question it. There were no buses out to where we lived and there was never any printer ink to print off resumes so I worked fixing up the house. He seemed to like having me home and would often have me ride with him in the dump truck while he worked. We always had a great day when I did and I would feel so close to him again. He brought home a dump truck load of landscaping rock then soil so I put in rock gardens and a pond, he brought home a load of sand and I shovel and raked it making a lovely sandy beach in front of our house. He came home from work and supper was ready, the house was spotless, there was always fresh baking. I would try to set the mood and have candles lit when he got home hoping he would stay inside with me and not go out to his shop. Every night it was the same, he’d come home, go out to his shop, I’d call him in for dinner, some times I would end up taking his dinner out to the shop for him, if he did come in he would go straight back out after dinner. I would put on something sexy and try to entice him to come to bed and he would pull away saying he was dirty and I would make some comment about liking dirty men. His sense of humor was gone, he would say, “I’ll be right there” I would go to bed and end up falling asleep. Some times he would crawl in to bed about 4 or 5 am and we would make love but often times I would wake up in the morning and realize he hadn’t been to bed at all and I would cry.

I come to dread times we were close and loving because it seemed after an especially loving time he would be doubly cold and cruel to counter act it. I prayed alot, I didn’t know how to reach him, he seemed like he hated me most of the time.

I talked to a girlfriend who also lived at the resort and told her I thought he hated me. She was shocked, she told me that all he ever did was speak highly of me, he bragged about my cooking and all the work I was doing on the place, she said she had seen him bringing me home flowers and I felt bad for doubting his love and decided to try a little harder not pressure him.

We would discuss money, I would think we had sorted it out but within a few days he was on me again. He stayed up all night calculating how much he spent on me and presented me with an invoice of everything I owed him right down to the 25¢ he had given me when I was short of money for a slushy.

The next time he got physical was on my birthday. He forgot my birthday and called half way through the day. I had been snarky with him and then immediately felt bad. It was a day the car was working and he had called me and told me to pick up his cheque, cash it and bring the money to the track. I apologized for being snarky and he just brushed it off. When I got to the track racing was cancelled due to rain so I called to tell him and he said to meet him at work. I got there and he seemed fine, he hugged me and was joking about forgetting my birthday and how he was going to make it up to me by taking me for dinner.

When we left the office I asked him if I should leave my car there and ride with him and we could pick it up later or should I follow him.

JC – What the hell are you talking about?
Me-Dinner, should I leave the car here and we can pick it up later.
JC – I don’t know what you are doing but I’m going to the track.
Me – racing is cancelled, I thought we were going for dinner.
JC – are you buying? I don’t have money for dinner.
Me – I’ll will go with you to the track, I got my EI today I can buy supper.
JC – Just go home I’ll see you there.

I was not going to let him ruin my birthday so I went to the liquor store and bought a nice bottle of wine and a pack of tobacco. (I rolled my own cigarettes JC always bought taylor mades). The rain had let up so I went home, poured myself a glass of wine and went out to putz in my garden. I was not going to react, I was not going to ruin my day. He walked through the door about 10 with a carton of his smokes, a 26er of rye, a cases of his favorite coolers and a look on his face that said he was itching for a fight.

JC – I see once again you took care of yourself and didn’t buy me smokes or booze.
Me – please don’t start, I don’t want to fight.
JC – You don’t want to go there because you know I’m right.
Me – just last week you told me to just buy my own smokes and you’d buy your own so that’s what I did. Please don’t do this. Not tonight.

Poverty Is For “Other” People

Why don’t they get a job? You would never be caught dead begging for money or digging in someone else’s garbage. Don’t they have any pride?

That’s what most people are thinking even if they don’t say it out loud; and some do. Every where you look there are pan-handlers jockeying for position at the most lucrative intersection or the prime location; outside the liquor store. You can’t drive down a back alley without seeing someone climbing into a dumpster or someone pushing a shopping cart full of their possessions. It has become so common place you hardly take notice any more.

Why don’t they get a job?

They must be drug addicts or alcoholics, or maybe they have a mental problem; certainly they don’t have an education, children, or job skills.

These people couldn’t have been YOUR neighbor a few years ago, their kids couldn’t have been over at your house playing not that long ago. You don’t know anyone who would be reduced to begging for money, do you? Well, IF you did know someone in that position they got there by their own doing, they must have made poor choices; you know YOU would never be that desperate. It could never happen to you, could it?

What ever did happen to that nice young couple that lived next door? Such a shame their house got foreclosed on and they moved away; they were good neighbors, hard working, always friendly, they’d watch the house when you went away and such cute little ones; remember when the first one was born, all the neighbors got together and had a baby shower? Nice little family………wonder what ever happened to them. Well, you know how it is` every one is so busy these days; you promised to keep in touch, take the kids once in a while but just never got around to it. I’m sure they’re doing fine, they were young, they’ll recoup¤

Or when the company you work for was down sizing, what a shame “Stan” was laid off only 10 years from retirement, just when the kids were finished school and oh yeah, their daughter was getting married, that’s right and then they were going to concentrate on saving for retirement. Stan had 10 years to really sock it away, too bad……wonder what ever happened to good old Stan….he must have gotten a job somewhere by now.

What about the woman you always talked to when you both went to pick up your kids from school, she showed up looking like she’d been really crying a few times and kept to herself mostly but you and her had a few good chats, she was really nice and had a pretty smile. Then one day she wasn’t there any more, her kids had switched schools, then they came back but you never saw her again. You asked about her and heard she was in an abusive relationship and she finally left the asshole, good for her! She must be doing so much better without him, she must be happy now, just her and the kids without him beating her down emotionally and physically. Good for her she finally left.

That nice young couple? After they lost their house and moved into a rental, he was laid off from the job he’d had for 6 years at the mill and has been getting work off and on ever since, she is working two part time jobs, one at a big box store and the other one at a bank, she gets 20 hours a week from each place which means she doesn’t get benefits or her stat holidays paid and sometimes works 16 hours in a day because she gets scheduled at both places on the same day. They try to schedule their shifts so one of them is home for the kids because day care is so expensive and it’s hard to find a day care that will take kids for a few hours, they want full time children because they are only allowed so many children at one time and can’t keep a slot open for a few hours.

After the stores close he goes out dumpster diving, often times he finds things he can repair and resell at the flea market, sometimes he finds toys for the kids, or even food, he doesn’t make a whole lot of money but it is what keeps their heads barely above water and food on the table. They fight a lot these days, the stress is getting to them; the kids have started to have behaviour problems and the oldest one started school but hates it because some of the other kids saw their dad dumpster diving and now tease them at school.

Times are tough for everyone, I’m sure they’ll get back on their feet if they just work hard. Right?

Good ol’ Stan, didn’t you know?
He’s a greeter at WalMart, you know the guy who gets you a shopping cart, smiles and says “Hi” when you walk in.

He got unemployment benefits for a year and then they had to start using the little bit of severance package he got because you can’t collect welfare if you have any money and they had to sell one of the cars because welfare won’t pay if you own two cars over a certain value. It was so degrading for Stan to go into welfare, paid into it his whole life, always worked, and he was treated like a second class citizen when he finally got up the courage to go in because they can’t afford to pay for his heart medication on the little bit they make. He was choking back tears when he left the office. He sure didn’t ever think he’d be asking for a hand out, he believed if a person worked hard they would be ok. Everything they had Stan had worked damn hard for but they remortgaged the house for their daughter’s wedding while Stan still had a job and now they were afraid they are going to lose the house. Forty years Stan worked, raised his family, was a good provider, his wife had worked once the kids got into school and she has gotten a part time job now at a grocery chain store and often works until midnight. It bothers Stan that this is the time of their life they should be enjoying each other, kids out of the house, they’ve done their time, they struggled and they did it side by side; always looking forward to this day. He’s been looking for a good paying job but now a days every one hires over the internet and Stan never even had a resume in his life, he walked into places, asked to speak to the manager and walked out with a handshake and “You start Monday.” Now you don’t even see a person plus they look at his resume and see that he is almost 60, the companies he has talked to say he is over qualified, he tells them he doesn’t mind starting at the bottom but they don’t call back, so here he is at WalMart, putting a smile on his face and handing you your shopping cart.

The woman who left the abusive relationship? Well she isn’t doing so well, her ex husband decided to make her life hell and went for custody of the kids and won, she didn’t have money for a lawyer and he lied about her and got people to back his lies. Losing the kids almost killed her, she could barely function for almost a year and it breaks her heart that she lives in a one bedroom apartment in a bad area and she can’t provide a nice place for the kids to come and visit. They say it is ok they love her but she knows at their dad’s they have everything all the other kids have and even if they don’t say it she feels they are ashamed of her. She was with her ex for 10 years, she had a job but he wanted her to quit when the kids were born. She didn’t mind being home raising them, her husband had a good paying job and even though she had to account for every penny he gave her and never had money of her own; he gave her enough to keep the house and the kids looking presentable. As the years went by though he got more and more abusive and controlling, it seemed he was never happy no matter what she did and she was always walking on egg shells. Sometimes she could feel the tension in him building and she knew she was going to get hit. She would try to not react when he pushed her buttons but eventually he would blow and she would get punched in the head and told he’d had enough and wanted her out.

He did it one too many times and one day while he was at work she packed up the kids and her clothes and left, with no money, nothing. He tried to get her to come back, put on the “I’m so sorry, it will never happen again” routine she’d heard so many times in the past, but she was strong this time, she was determined.

He got reinvolved almost immediately and told every one that she was crazy and he’d suffered through years of hell with her and now he’d found a woman that understood him and appreciated him. He moved the woman into their house, just slid the new woman right into her role as his wife and the woman is so cocky and rude to her; she must believe his lies too. Sure someday after a lengthy court battle she should get ½ of the house but she can’t afford a lawyer and he’s got the best; besides she doesn’t think she has the strength to keep fighting him.

Maybe he was right; maybe she is nothing without him.

She is getting welfare, which barely covers her rent and food from the food bank but having the kids come and stay always put her behind financially and the hydro is going to be cut off today; so she puts on her coat and heads out in the rain to ask for spare change at the liquor store.

Hopefully she’ll make enough to keep hydro off her back for another week. It’s getting harder and harder to believe she is better off, maybe getting hit once in a while wasn’t so bad after all.

You don’t know anyone who begs for money or digs in other people’s garbage, it’s not your problem. Whose problem is it?

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck

The Perfect Little Family

I was beyond ecstatic for a few weeks and wore maternity clothes almost immediately, I wanted everyone to know I was pregnant; I wanted the cutest maternity outfits.

Then the paranoia set in and I was afraid I might miscarry. Every possible thing I could worry about I obsessed about, the doctor even gave me an ultrasound in hopes of calming my fears but it only worked for a few weeks and then I was obsessing again. If the baby didn’t kick often enough I feared it was dead inside me, I obsessed about it being deformed because I had smoked and drank before I knew I was pregnant, and then there was my obsession with my weight. Having been anorexic prior to getting pregnant and then eating like a horse once I found out I was pregnant I gained a phenomenal amount of weight very quickly. I was 135 lbs when I got pregnant and 207 lbs when I went into labour. The motorcycle club had a pool going to see who could guess my weight when I finally went into labour. Victor would come home to find me on the bed crying, he’d say, “You looked in your closet again didn’t you?” and he would hop on his bike and come home with a new maternity outfit.

One day while I was working I was away from my wicket and when I returned there was a vase on the counter with one single rose in bloom and single rose bud and the card said, “One for you and one for the baby. With all my love Victor.” He never once made me feel fat or unattractive, even when I got stuck in our water bed and couldn’t roll myself out of bed he never even hinted at making fun of me. (Smart man)

It was November and I had been told I could have the baby any day and the baby’s room still wasn’t done, Victor was planning on going hunting in a couple of days and we were arguing. I said you aren’t going any where until that baby’s room is done (you never told Victor what to do unless you wanted the exact opposite thing to happen but my hormones were talking) and he said he’d do it when he got back. I was at the stove frying hamburger, holding the frying pan with my right hand and stirring with my left as he walked past the kitchen door heading to the bedroom. Before I knew it; almost like an out of body experience I flung the frying pan in his direction. The frying pan hit the wall in the hallway taking a chunk out of the wall and narrowly missing him. Hamburger flew every where, I burst out crying and Victor poked his head slowly from around the corner of the doorjamb not sure if something else would come flying in his direction. Victor went into the bathroom and started a bubble bath for me, guided me into the bathroom and told me to relax, he scraped up the hamburger from the walls and floor washed the floors and wall and ate it the hamburger swearing it was delicious (good thing I was obsessive about keeping my house clean). The next day he did the baby’s room before he went hunting.

A few weeks before I gave birth Victor had been at the legion drinking and wanted to take his opened half bottle of wine home with him but the bouncer wouldn’t let him and he had punched the guy, breaking his jaw. I had been furious and we called the guy offering to pay whatever he needed as long as he didn’t press charges; luckily the guy was decent enough, we paid his dental bill and nothing more came of it. Victor promised me he would quit drinking.

The other issue we had was that he never was faithful; he just could not pass up the opportunity to screw another woman. It bothered me terribly, every time he went out with his buddies I never knew if he was with another woman or not. He didn’t have affairs, I’m sure he never saw the women again, it was when he was drinking and he told me once that he just couldn’t pass up a new pussy. He didn’t know what he thought he’d be missing.

As strange as it may sound to you although it upset me terribly and we had many fights over it, I never felt he didn’t love me or that it was my fault in any way or that I wasn’t attractive. He wasn’t like JC, he never blamed me for his infidelity, and he always took responsibility.

I never slept until he got home, but when I heard the door I would pretend to be asleep, he would come to the bedroom door way and watch me sleeping. One night he said,” I really do love you you know, I am so sorry.” While I was pregnant I am sure he didn’t screw around, although I did get jealous one time when I came home just in time to pick him up for prenatal classes and I walked in to a houseful of people and a woman on his workout bench with her legs spread and his face 6 inches from her crotch. Victor did tattoos on the side and the woman wanted a black widow spider coming out of the hair down there. Here I am feeling like a beached whale and he’s down there tattooing; well I guess you can imagine how well that went over.

I finally went into labour on December 20th 1983; because I had been in labour so long with my first pregnancy I didn’t want to go to the hospital until I was really ready. When Victor came home from work that day I told him I’d been in labour all day and he wanted to go to the hospital immediately but I told him to order a pizza because the minute this baby was born I was going on a diet. He wanted sex one last time because he knew I wouldn’t be having sex for a month or so after having the baby. I am sure having sex sped up the labour pains because we didn’t even finish and I said we have to go to the hospital now. I left the house with a piece of pizza in my hand and we arrived at the hospital at 8:15 pm. The nurse checked me and said I wasn’t dilated at all and it was going to be all night. Victor rolled his eyes and she said he should go home and get some rest and they would call when I got closer. I told him not to go; there was no way it was going to take that long. As with my first baby the contractions didn’t come regularly and they had to break my water, I kept telling the nurse the baby was coming and she kept telling I wasn’t near ready; my doctor was at a wine and cheese party and she didn’t want to bother him. They had quite a busy night with babies being born and there was a lull, the nurse said she’d wheel me into the delivery room to give me a change of scenery. I wasn’t in the delivery room more than 5 minutes and I said, “The baby is coming, I have to push!” Victor whipped my slippers off and put my feet in the stirrups the nurse was saying, “Don’t push, don’t push!!” I said, “This baby is coming now, someone had better get over here.” Just then the doctor ran through the door with his arms outstretched and they put the gown on him as he came through the door, he got to me just in time to catch the baby as I gave one more push.

Victor gave me the blow by blow description of the birth, “There’s the head, there’s the back, there’s the bum, there’s the balls, IT’S A BOY!!!”

Kris was born at 10:20pm. and weighed 8 lbs 1 ½ ozs, he bruised his nose on the way out and Victor and I laughed because he had his dad’s nose. (Victor’s nose had been broken a few times and was kinda flattened out) Kristofer was beautiful, perfect, bald as a cue ball, 10 chubby little toes, 10 chubby little fingers, pink and healthy. I didn’t know it but my family was in the waiting room and they were allowed to come in immediately after Kris was born, while the doctor was still stitching me up. Finally I had what I had been praying for for so long, a healthy baby boy (although a girl would have been just fine with me I did want a boy and Victor although he always said “as long as it’s healthy” wanted a boy, we could have found out the sex of the baby when they did the ultrasound but we didn’t want to know ahead of time.) the nurse had given me something for pain about an hour before because the pain had been so intense and she didn’t think I was going to deliver that night at all, and it kicked in about the same time Kris was born. Everyone left to give me time to rest and there I was wide awake at 10:45pm, all by myself feeling like I was on top of the world, stoned out of my gourd and no one to talk to. I remember saying as everyone was leaving, “Someone bring me a glass of wine, no never mind make it the whole bottle!”

True to his word Victor hardly drank for the next 5 weeks, right through Christmas and New Year’s Eve. I was nervous he would go out and get drunk after he left the hospital but he went straight home and called everyone we knew but he didn’t drink. My mom and dad gave me a gold chain for my wrist with a gold charm of a pair of booties to commemorate Kris’s birth. (I treasured those booties for 27 years, the chain had broken and I had put the booties on a gold chain around my neck and wore them that way for many years until that chain broke and then I put them away for safe keeping along with some of Kris’s baby teeth, his hospital wrist band and other mementos. In 2010 I saw a little silver bullet shaped container for sale at the counter in a gas station and thought it was perfect for keeping the booties in and bought it. I took it home and showed JC how I had put the booties and Kris’s baby teeth in it and put it on my key chain as a good luck charm. Kris had moved away and it was a way of me keeping him close. Around the time JC and I were splitting the silver bullet disappeared off my keychain, I tore the house and truck apart but never found the silver container. I asked JC about it and he didn’t seem to even remember me showing him the container or what I had put in it. After we were split he had me haul his tools from his last job because he had been fired, when we got back to his/our place I went into the music room to warm up and there on the coffee table was the silver container, the latch that held it onto my keychain wasn’t broken and it was empty. I took it out to the fire where JC was standing and asked him where he got it from. He shrugged and said he didn’t know. I said, “This is the container I had Kris’s booties in.” He asked where I found it and I said in the music room, then he said he found it in some of his son’s stuff that Allen left behind when he left so suddenly. He said Allen must have stolen it, you know how he was stealing everything. But I had it after Allen left, he left in May and I know I had it in October when I went to visit my son in Kelowna because I showed it to him. I didn’t argue with JC and just told him that if he came across them I would really like them back. If there was anything in this world that I cherished it was those booties and he knew it and it was his passive aggressive way to hurt me). Sorry I digressed; back to Victor.

He took to fatherhood like a duck to water, he was bathing Kris, changing diapers, and wanted to take Kris every where he went. He’d take the snuggly with him and take Kris to the bike shop, to visit friends, and he’d get up with him in the middle of the night. I wasn’t breast feeding because I wanted to diet and was going back to work after 2 months so it was easy for Victor to go alone. I was the nervous new parent but he was a natural at caring for a baby. The baby would be asleep and I would get up from watching TV with Victor and pretend I was going to the bathroom and I’d hear Victor, “leave that poor kid alone!! He’s fine, don’t you dare wake him up.” Because he knew I was going to sneak in and make sure he was still breathing.

We had gotten a Springer Spaniel puppy that my dad’s pure bred male Springer had sired and even he loved the baby, we had the perfect little family. I really didn’t want to go back to work full time again and leave Kris with a baby sitter all day and Victor and I talked and agreed I would go back part time. In those days you only got 6 weeks maternity leave and in the 5th week I talked to the bank and they agreed to lay me off which would mean I would qualify for unemployment benefits a lot longer and I would only work a day or two a week for the first while.

On Thursday February 2nd, Victor went out and traded my Honda Civic, our old Fargo pickup truck and a holiday trailer my foster brother had given us all on a 1981 Reliant K car and surprised me with it. He said he got it because he didn’t want me driving with the baby in a vehicle that was unsafe, drafty or might leave me stranded. I was thrilled with it, sure it was just a K car but it was burgundy and had velour interior and was the nicest car I had ever had.

On Saturday February 4th, 1984 I went out with girlfriends for a nice dinner and Victor stayed home with Kris and on the Sunday he had plans to go for a motorcycle ride with my dad and a friend, Ken. It was unusually warm for early February and a beautiful day for a bike ride. Victor rode his bike 12 months out of the year, it was an agreement we had, that if he bought a brand new bike it couldn’t be for pleasure only and he said he’d drive it to work and he did almost every day, he had a snowmobile suit for riding in winter and rain gear for the rainy season, full leather pants and jacket, gloves, mitts, full face and regular helmet, he rode in snow, ice any conditions so he was a seasoned rider. On this Sunday he had on his full leathers, riding boots, helmet and leather riding gloves. It was such a beautiful day and I felt a little jealous to be left at home, I loved the motorcycle but it was his day with the guys. After Kris’s nap I put him in his stroller and walked the 2 miles to my mom’s and we drank some wine and sat out side on the patio. She drove me home about dinner time and I mentioned I was concerned the guys were still not home and she assured me they were fine, just enjoying their guy time; but as it got dark I had uneasiness but I couldn’t pinpoint what I was so uneasy about, I knew he wouldn’t be screwing around, not with my dad along. I dozed off lying on the couch with Kris in my arms and around 9:30 woke up with a start. I checked and Victor wasn’t home. I didn’t know whether to be pissed off or worried, it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d been late, but the fact that he was with my dad told me to relax I was worrying for nothing. I went to bed and finally fell back to sleep, only to be woken up by the phone ringing at about 11 pm. I had a hard time waking up and the phone seemed to be ringing forever. Finally I answered, “Hello?”

“Is this Mrs. Ouellette?”

“Yes”

“This is Abbotsford Hospital calling, when you come in to visit your husband can you stop at the front desk please, we have some of his belongings here.”

“Abbotsford Hospital? What are you talking about?”

“Your husband was admitted earlier tonight and we have his belongings at the front desk.”

“What do you mean he was admitted, what’s wrong? what happened?”

“I don’t know madam; you’d have to talk to the emergency dept about that.”

“Emergency? Can you put me through please?” my mind was racing, what would he have been doing in Abbotsford? They went to Sumas Washington.

“Just one moment.”

I could feel the panic welling up inside me and I was telling myself to stay calm, it must be some mistake, my dad would have called if something bad had happened. Maybe they parted ways and he went to a bar alone maybe he was in a bar fight and got stabbed or something. I waited for what seemed like an eternity and then realized she must have dropped the call. I wear contact lenses so couldn’t see and in my panic I couldn’t find my glasses, I was shaking so badly I could barely dial the phone but managed to finally get information and they put me through to the emergency ward at Abbotsford Hospital.

“It’s Carrie Ouellette calling, I was just told my husband Victor, was admitted to the hospital tonight.”

“Hold on, I’ll get you his nurse.”

“Hello? Mrs. Ouellette?”

“Yes, what’s going on? What happened to my husband?”

“He’s had a motorcycle accident Mrs. Ouellette and he’s on his way to surgery”

“I am on my way, this is Abbotsford hospital?”

“Yes Abbotsford emergency but, there really is no point in coming down here Mrs. Ouellette, he’s on his way to surgery now and isn’t expected to survive there’s no point in you coming.”

I hung up. Not expected to survive? It must be a mistake. My dad would have called. No, it has to be a mistake, Victor can’t be dying, he has to come home, we just had a baby.

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck

From Sunny Days to Stormy Nights-Life Can Be Like That

Old Betsy hauled the load just fine. That 292 engine is what they call a stump puller”.

A beautiful day yesterday; sunny and hot. this was at 3 in the afternoon.

A beautiful day yesterday; sunny and hot. this was at 3 in the afternoon.

Never have I seen a storm happen so fast.

Never have I seen a storm happen so fast.

Notice the trees in the background

Notice the trees in the background

Between the wind, limited visibilty and debris on the road it was a tough drive home.

Between the wind, limited visibilty and debris on the road it was a tough drive home.

Trees were falling so suddenly you really had to be on your toes.

Trees were falling so suddenly you really had to be on your toes.

You couldn't see the bridge let alone the mountains that surround us

You couldn’t see the bridge let alone the mountains that surround us

The picture of my truck was taken at about 3 pm yesterday, it had been a sunny day and quite hot. Jim the friend who lets me live in his trailer has a bunch of stuff stored out at Paul’s farm and Paul was told by the city that he has till the end of the month to have the property cleaned up or they will do it and charge him for it. I like Paul, he is a very soft spoken small man who walks with his hands clasp behind his back, always wears a toque 12 months out of the year and I think that he wears the same rain coat he’s worn since the day I first met him. He always refers to Jim as, “The Jim.” As in, “Have you seen the Jim today?”

Paul is East Indian and he and I have discussed his culture a few times, one thing I truly admire about his culture is how they all live together and share the work load. They take care of their own, which is the way of many nationalities, mainly it is us in North America that are so “advanced” in our thinking that we have daycares to raise our children and care facilities to tend to our elderly. I asked him once what happens if one of the family members is just plain lazy and doesn’t do anything and lives off of the hard work of the others and he looked at me and laughed; “It doesn’t happen,” he said, “everyone works”. There are some things about their culture I don’t agree with but as with anything, religion, politics, or personal values; there isn’t one I can think of that I agree with 100%. I am not saying they don’t have problems with their teens, drugs, gangs, and all the rest of the problems many people have with their teens; but from where I sit I think their children must benefit from having so many people around them who love them and care for them. Their children don’t come home to an empty house; someone is always around, an aunt, uncle, or sibling if not a parent.

They also believe you take care of your neighbor and if your neighbor is hungry you share what you have; anyone regardless of beliefs, nationality or social standing can go to one of their temples and eat any time.

Paul has several blue berry farms and a small family so extended family has moved in to help with the labour and he is letting me living in Jim’s trailer on one of the farms; I just have to pay my hydro bill.

One thing I always hear from East Indians is how hard I work, but you know they work hard too but they do it at a must slower pace than we do. they walk slowly, ponder situations before attempting to do something, they all stand looking at a problem discussing it at great length before anyone attempts to fix it; then they try to fix it for a day or two and then they call Jim and he does it for them. Haha but they do have a different approach to life, a much more laid back and peaceful approach.

Paul has told me how he came here with $10 in his pocket and ½ of everything he made he saved and he worked hard at various jobs until he was able to buy the first farm. Paul hasn’t had an easy life. I knew him before his son died tragically; his son’s death took the life out of Paul. Parm, his son was a good kid, who’d had some trouble with drugs but was getting his life back on track and had moved back home. JC was always storing something at Paul’s so we got to know Parm quite well, he was always smiling, and always the first one to jump up and say, “Let me help.” You could tell Paul was proud of him and so pleased to have his boy back, but when he lost him a part of Paul died with Parm. You can see the pain on his face, in his eyes; the light went out, the joy left him. When someone’s pain is so evident, even years later, it can be hard to look at him some days without breaking down and crying.

I was at the farm yesterday helping Jim clean up his crap, and I do mean crap; this man is a hoarder! But I enjoy hard work, I enjoy helping out and easing Paul’s mind and it was a sunny day plus I could make a few bucks doing it. After I left the scrap yard I stopped to pick up a choker chain for Laila and a new leash for Kato and something told me to buy candles. I told the dogs I would take them for a walk as soon as I was done shopping and then I was going to go back to the farm and work some more. It was about 3:30 when we headed out for our walk and by 3:45 black clouds rolled in and the rain started. I took the pictures of the rain at 4:00 pm that’s how fast we went from a beautiful hot day to dark skies and monsoon like winds and rain. Laila cowered next to me uncertain of what was happening. The rain was pelting in Kato’s window so he almost climbed on my lap.

I had a hard time keeping the truck on the road without a load on the wind was pushing it around pretty good, trees were down across the road in places and the mountains disappeared behind the dark foreboding clouds. The rain came down so hard and suddenly the drains couldn’t keep up and rain formed rivers that flowed down hill and in the flat areas lakes formed. The vehicles were making 10 foot high rooster tails as they went down the road. The roads were busy too, it seemed most of the traffic was going in the opposite direction of me and I couldn’t help wondering if they knew something I didn’t; Like I missed an important public announcement to evacuate the town. By the time we got “home” the power was out and stayed out until sometime in the wee of hours of the morning, luckily I bought candles and the puppies and I were snuggled into bed by 11:30.

I always read a blog called Talesfromthelou.wordpress.com Lou shares a lot of informative material on the state of the world, the impending new world order, the Iluminati, Chemtrails, the inevitable economic collapse of the world, humanity or lack of it in the world and other thought provoking topics. After 9/11 JC got into researching a lot of these topics and to be honest it is one of the things I miss the most about him. like a lot of people I took “their” word that it was a terrorist attack, thought how horrible it was and then went on with life but it was because of JC’s research that I first heard about conspiracy theories, chemtrails, cover-ups etc, we could talk, watch videos, exchange beliefs and concerns for hours on end. I always felt that no matter what happened in the world I would be ok as long as I was with JC. We could have moved up into the mountains and survived because he was/is so talented at McGyver’ing things.

Sometimes I thought the struggles we had financially were happening because of some preparation for what was yet to come. We lived in some horrible condition and the sole reason I was able to survive it was because I was with him and I felt safe, I felt together, we could overcome any adversity put in our path. Last night when the world turned dark and scary I felt very alone.

Prior to JC I was naïve, ignorant of world affairs, believed what I read in the newspapers and believed if a person works hard they will always be ok; if they lead honest lives they will be ok, if they are honest, faithful, fair, and charitable, they will receive the same back and they will be ok. I know differently now, and it’s hard to give up the belief that everyone has good in them and there is a happy ending eventually. I had never had to do without in my life, not really do without. Not having designer clothes is not “doing without” even as a child we were lower middle class I suppose and worked our way up to middle class, I would say my mom and brother would fit in the lower upper class or upper middle class now and I am not sure I even make it to lower lower class.

This isn’t my life, when I met JC I had my gel nails manicured every week, I paid to have my hair cut, dyed and styled, I bought my clothes in a department store not Value Village and I had the big house, the white picket fence, 5 bedrooms, the formal living room, the Dodge Caravan, a Border Collie, and I baked Chocolate chip cookies for all my son’s friends. I cooked Christmas dinner for a dozen family and friends, I decorated the house from stem to stern for every holiday, I bought $100 hanging baskets for my sundeck and people were in awe of my Halloween display that got more gruesome every year. I bought a fixer upper and sold it, made money and invested in a bigger house, sold it and made money, I was moving up the ladder just as they say you should. I had the RRSP’s, a dental plan, I gave to charities that help people like me now.

Part of the reason I don’t see any of my old friends is because they couldn’t possibly relate to my life now or understand the abuse and control JC had over me. I know I wouldn’t, had I not lived it. One of the things that would upset me with JC was he seemed to accept his lot and make do no matter where we ended up. He didn’t want to improve our situation, and I couldn’t settle, I had to make things better. I would do what I could to make any place we lived more comfortable and “homey” but I was always striving for better. He could live anywhere, without any of the amenities and appear quite content, but not me. He used to say I was inflexible, too negative, worried too much, had high expectations and that I was never satisfied. I didn’t and still don’t think I had unreasonable expectation. Running water, a bathtub with bubbles and hot water, clean clothes, a stove to cook on, a vehicle that runs, and I was willing to work for it.

I don’t need a lot to be happy, I didn’t like my big house, my son and I lived in about 500 sq ft of it and the other 2300 sq ft got vacuumed and dusted and used maybe half a dozen times a year when we had guests. I much preferred my little cabin at the lake. I like myself better now that I am not judgmental, gave up drinking and learned to cut my own hair. I am more confident in many ways I think and much quicker to say hi to a stranger or help some one in need.

I thought JC and I had that in common, its a big thing, but when we split up what does he do? he finds a woman, a widow, who has everything I had not long ago, he drives her car, they holiday in her summer cabin on Nelson Island (I used to holiday in Parksville where my folks own condos at Tigh-na-Mara), I hear they are taking a train to Whistler and staying at the Fairmont hotel some time soon, he just bought himself a project truck and is doing a complete off frame restoration of a 61 Chev pickup, he’s bought himself a motorcycle and he has a F450 flat deck with the winch that was supposed to be mine mounted on it. He stole my life, how did he/why did he? There was no need, he could have left me if I couldn’t provide what he wanted, He could have left me with something left to start over with. Destroying my F550 didn’t benefit him in any way; all it did was make it impossible for me to continue to be successful with my business, it dropped me down a bracket, took me out of the game, eliminated me from the big money jobs. That is a narcissist’s way of thinking though, I found out too late; in their minds the only way they can be successful is if you aren’t. He calls himself successful now, but he didn’t earn one dime of what he is spending, he hasn’t held a job for more than a couple of months and been off work for 4-5 months of the last year and a half. I know now he came back to me because I was doing well on my own and he wasn’t, he had to make sure I would never recoup from my relationship with him. What a warped evil mind.

I don’t deny him a good life, and if he can get it by living off of a woman, so be it. I feel sorry for her because he will destroy her also, unless she has an endless supply of cash, then it could last forever. It could last 10-15 years at least and it will unless she has some big mean brother who will kick JC to the curb because he will never leave her as long as she has anything left. That’s not to say he won’t make her life hell or that he’ll be faithful or she won’t want him gone; it just means he won’t leave. When he came to apologize to me I told him about some of the stuff I’d been reading on Lou’s blog and it was as if he’d never had an interest in it at all. He said he doesn’t concern himself with that shit. Must have been my imagination again.

Funny how a sunny day can change so quickly and how life can do the same.

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck

And The Survey Says……? Give Your Opinion Please!

I wrote this post the night of 6/6/12. I just couldn’t send it cuz I didn’t have the internet. So ……..

Ok so this is the new development in my life concerning my truck repairs.

A few days ago I bought the 1973 Chev truck. I drove the van to the house where the truck was for sale, made the deal and then had to go get a permit to drive the truck home.

On the way back the van didn’t want to shift. I got back to the guy’s place and he was going to drive the truck to my place and I’d drive him back home. I had a helluvatime with the van but it did shift and got home but I said we’d better take the truck back to his place.

When I got home I checked the tranny fluid and it was empty! Then I checked all the fluids and it was low on oil, had practically no power steering fluid, and no brake fluid. I drove the truck to buy tranny fluid. I put it in and it shifted fine for a couple of blocks and then wouldn’t shift any more. I bought more tranny fluid but it didn’t help. In total I put 3L of fluid in. (I’m not sure how much it would need)

6/4/12 I get to Amix and find out Hal has been calling there to see if I have been in. I don’t like that.

I call him and tell him about the van and that it had no fluids in it. He blames me for the tranny going. He said I should have checked all the fluids every day. I check my oil every 2nd day but unless I have an issue with something leaking I don’t check my tranny fluid, power steering fluid or brake fluid more than maybe a couple of times a month.

I say he should have checked out the van before he gave it to me to drive. I had no reason to believe I had to fill all the fluids in the van. I had $40 to my name; enough for fuel, certainly not enough to buy tranny, brake and steering fluid.

Now he says I owe him a new tranny, $1000-$1500. I want to know what everyone thinks.

AND he said the job for my drive shaft took him 16 hours and that’s $800 before parts. But he’ll give me a deal and only charge me $600. I gave him $200 tonight and my truck is still there because he doesn’t want me to have it until I’ve paid the full $600.

Good thing I bought the other truck, (he didn’t want me to buy it and said it was a shit box and I was wasting my money; as if it’s any of his business anyway besides he hadn’t even seen the truck so what the F does he know? It has a cool shifter nob.).

I am still going to do Mary’s yard because she has nothing to do with it, needs the help, and he takes advantage of her all the time and I feel sorry for her. She talked to me tonight before he got there and she said she felt sorry for me the other night. I feel sorry for her because he stores all his crap over there, vehicles, 5th wheels, trailers and she gets in shit from the city because her place is an eyesore. She was almost in tears and she needs help, her house is in need of some real maintenance and repairs that she just can’t do.

It must be very hard to see your home that you’ve always taken care of fall apart because you’re too sick to do it and no one will help you. I know how hard it is to ask for help too, so I didn’t wait and just did it and plan on doing more as soon as we have decent weather again.

My goal is to have her back yard so she can hobble out to her Gazebo in the evening and enjoy the sights and smells of her garden, maybe cut a bouquet for the house, see the neighbors walk past and say hi. Have someone say how nice her yard is looking.

I noticed when I was there tonight that she had tried to pull some weeds and rake a bit. That’s because I did something and it motivated her to try to do a little bit. She couldn’t even walk out there before I cut the grass; it was too high and I am sure overwhelming and depressing.

I feel good about helping her I don’t have a problem with it at all; I just have to remember to not over do it myself and gimp my neck up.

Oh! And also, I have a 1/2 a load of good heavy steel on my 1991 GMC sitting at Mary’s; I figure $100 or so worth that I was going to cash in and give to Hal. He said he can transfer it from my truck to his trailer and take it in. (I took the plates off it so I can transfer the insurance over to my 73 Chevy but I could throw them back on just to haul the load in or transfer it onto the Chev. I could tell them in the office to give Hal the cheque for it when he comes in.

He said he’d rather haul it in himself and deduct whatever he gets from my bill. Then he added that of course he’ll deduct a bit for his efforts transferring it over.

HOLD it just a second!! How about I haul it in and hold back a bit for MY efforts. I am the one that fought getting that shit out of a muddy pasture in the first place. What about MY time??

But I didn’t say anything and said I’d talk to him in the morning. When morning came I hadn’t changed my mind and told him to leave my scrap I would haul it myself. I haven’t been by there since so I hope he didn’t do it anyway because I will be really pissed.

The more I’ve thought about it the angrier I’m getting though. I think that’s bullshit.

Why don’t I just say that? Why don’t I make absurd demands of people? I ask for fairness and am made to feel I am unreasonable. God how I hate feeling guilty all the time!! And worried I’m going to piss someone off. That is my biggest flaw/downfall; I worry about the other guy too much. I don’t want anyone to get mad, hurt or not like me and I get walked on by all these assholes.

I’m an asshole magnet for crumb sake! I should get a T-shirt that looks like a doormat and just lay down so people can walk on me and I can kiss their feet while I am down there.

I did get a new t-shirt the other day. It has my new motto on it;

“Stay Calm
And
Carry On”

Taking a deep breath and carrying on out of here into the pissing rain to work.

Please God bring out the sun already!!!

Anyway; opinions please!

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck

Where Does The Road Go?

Yesterday I decided to find out where the road goes.

Yesterday I decided to find out where the road goes.

This river is so clean you can see the rocks on the bottom clearly and only 5 minutes walk from me

This river is so clean you can see the rocks on the bottom clearly and only 5 minutes walk from me

I was going to take the dogs down to the water but the river is so high there is no bank to stand on

I was going to take the dogs down to the water but the river is so high there is no bank to stand on

Just the view in the other direction

Just the view in the other direction

the waterfall is hard to see because the trees block it but you can hear it everywhere in the valley

the waterfall is hard to see because the trees block it but you can hear it everywhere in the valley

Look closely, see an old float plane parked and in the field an old red p/u that they mow around?

Look closely, see an old float plane parked and in the field an old red p/u that they mow around?

So many layers of mountains.

So many layers of mountains.

I don't know where that road goes but i love the red barn.

I don’t know where that road goes but i love the red barn.

Looking back in the direction i came after finding out where the road goes

Looking back in the direction i came after finding out where the road goes

When I used to see a road and want to know where it went I would go find out. I haven’t done that for a long time now; fuel has been too expensive, I don’t have time, or any number of excuses.

Then I remembered when JC’s son was with us and he had never seen the ocean. His grandma lives on the coast but JC never got around to taking him there and his son went home unexpectedly (when JC punched him and kicked him out). We lived on a dead end road, he always would ride his bike to the end and wanted me to go with him, I was always busy, or it was raining, always an excuse. One day he came home and was telling me that for as far as he could see was like a big huge puddle. It had been raining a lot and I assumed it was a flooded farm field. After I shipped him back to his mom I drove to the end of the road. It was the ocean. The muddy edge of the ocean. And I cried. I should have taken the time to go look at what was at the end of the road.

I have been wondering what is at the end of the road where I live. I have been having chest pains for two days now and just couldn’t go to work yesterday. I know I should have probably driven myself to the hospital, I can’t call because I don’t have cell phone service and the hospital is 45 minutes away and I just didn’t feel like driving that far. I was just taking it easy, much to the dog’s chagrin because it is nice out and they would like to go for a long walk……shssshh don’t say it too loud!!

I did load us into the truck and drive up to the river thinking we might be able to find a quiet place to sit but there has been so much rain the river is way too high and fast for the dogs, but I started to appreciate the area that I am living in. I know the area and used to love it but that was when I was with JC and a time I prefer to forget. After getting out checking the river and taking a pee (the dogs, not me) I decided to just drive and see where the road went. I took some pictures of the falls you can’t see them in the pictures, you can hear throughout the valley and the house that sits right under them I think it is such and idyllic setting.

The further up the road we got the more my appreciation for the country, the people and the lifestyle grew. This is where people have their heavy equipment parked in the front yard, everyone owns a dog or two, horses and chickens are plentiful as are vegetable gardens and flowers. A lot of pick up trucks and RV’s too, it’s pretty red necky here, and I get a lot of looks from everyone because no one know who I am, where I came from or why I am here. Well they might all know by now because a guy named Kevin stopped by the other night and introduced himself and asked. He was saying that everyone at the corner store (store, restaurant, gas station, gift shop, and meeting place) has been talking about me, the female scrap hauler.

This is the kind of place where every one knows every one and they help out if a neighbor needs a hand. The lady from across the street came over the other day and introduced herself, she was checking out some of my plants and I offered her to break off roots of any plant she wanted, when I got home that night there were a dozen farm fresh brown eggs at my door. She was telling me that she lives in the house that her first boyfriend’s grandfather lived in and that it was built in such a way that it could be floated out of here if there was a flood.

A few years ago I picked up scrap from a place up here and I was so impressed with the teenage boy there. It turned out it was a dad and his step son and a friend of the stepson’s. The step dad, Randy, was a mechanic and had tons of scrap, at least a dozen cars and trucks in various states of disassembly and acres of land. He had let the boys use his tools and cutting torch and the guys had cut the roof off of an old car, they had thrown a huge engine in it and it had mismatch tires and this thing went like stink!! They were ripping around the yard having a hoot!!! Randy was saying that the mom rides around with them sometimes and she will be screaming her fool head off. I thought this is awesome; this is what a teen age boy should be doing! Building things, destroying things, trying things, learning things from his dad, and having fun! I believe that is a lot of what is missing in kids lives these days and why they get into drugs and gangs; there is no place to just have fun and a few safe thrills.

I actually live in a little valley where I am and there is a meandering creek that runs zigzagging between and through the farms. As we slowly climbed up the other side of the valley on the road I have never been on before the homes were as varied to the point of ridiculous, one minute you are passing lush green pastures with horses grazing and a log home, it’s neighbor is a tiny shack of a home that was probably built by one of the first homesteaders to the area, next to it is a rambling bed and breakfast with gardens and tranquil seating areas arranged along the creek that meanders through the property. Across the street is a tree farm, and then a blueberry farm, another farmer is burning brush while another one is heading to the house from the barn with a black lab trotting at his heels. Then there is nothing less than a mansion peaking through the trees with a big imposing black iron gate with a “Beware of Dog” sign followed by a “No Trespassing” sign. A couple of fields away are a tiny holiday trailer with a huge shop and a dozen or so derelict vehicles. I had just crested the hill when I saw a Harley heading towards me and the rider gave me the wave, I thought he must just be a friendly country guy but then I hear him coming up behind me and I pulled over. It was a fellow I know from the scrap yard. A nice quiet guy who’s had some health and addiction issues, he stopped once and offered me a ride when I was walking Kato because he thought we were broken down. He has a really pretty red one ton Chev truck that he keeps in really good shape. He always seems rather shy to me but we have talked briefly on several occasions and he had shared with me once that he had just gotten out of rehab. He pulled up and took his shades off and I recognized him. Nice bike!!

I asked if he lived up this way and he said no he had just been up to visit Miracle Valley; a drug rehad at the end of the road. He asked what I was doing and I said I was just driving to see where the road went. He told me they had just closed the rehab and he had loved the place when he was in there and he had gone up to see it. It used to be run by the Salvation Army and he wasn’t sure why it got shut down. He went on to tell me how he has been in and out of rehab most of his life, how he found God, some of the people and experiences he’s had in his life, how now he serves sandwiches and chocolate bars to the down and outs on the East End in Vancouver. We were blocking the road and had to move several times to continue our conversation and finally we gave up and parted ways. I thanked him for turning around and coming after me to say Hi.

It was one of those chance encounters that you feel God had a hand in. I don’t know if I needed the connection or if it was him but I know we both were better off for running into each other.

All in all it was a pretty good day and now I know where the road goes.

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck