Earliest Memories

A short while ago we were having brunch with our neighbours, and the conversation turned to memories...our earliest memories to be precise. As we went around the table sharing these reminisces, I wondered what it was about these particular events that stuck in our minds ahead of all the other things we would have been doing/experiencing at that time in our lives. I still haven't come up with a plausable explanation.

For me, my earliest memory involved my mom's mother, who died when I was 3. We were at a fish farm in Nova Scotia, and I remember standing at the edge of the fish ponds with her. That's it...I don't recall what we talked about or whether we saw fish (we must have) or what she looked like. But I certainly remember her presence there and I remember it was a day that gave me a good feeling.

Jamie's earliest memory is me playing a piece on the piano called "Fox Dance". It was rhythmic and lively and as a toddler, he asked to hear it almost daily, dancing around the room as I played it. And again I ask myself, "Why that memory?"

Oom-pa-pa

For as long as I can remember, my Dad wanted to play the accordian. It was the first present I bought for him when I got my first job with CBC Radio. I remember the day I purchased it...marched right into Remenyi's on Bloor Street West and told them I wanted the second hand Milano in the window. I knew nothing about accordians nor do I remember asking much about this particular one. It was black and shiny and Italian and I took them on their word when they said it was a good instrument in good working order.

Over the years, my Dad fiddled with it, although I can't say he ever mastered it. This summer, when I went to visit him, I dug out that accordian (now gathering dust in my brother's basement) and decided to bring it home with me. It's sat beside my piano until this past week-end, when I was inspired to pull it out.

I have no way of knowing if it still works OK...I used to share a teaching space with a piano teacher who plays accordian, so I think I'll get her t0 check it out. Who knows - if all goes well I may be oom-pa-pa-ing in time for next year's Octoberfest!

A Quick Rounding of the Corner

It never fails: I am always caught off guard by how quickly the seasons change. Sunday started out as cold fall day. Grant it, most of the leaves had already fallen to the ground, and you could smell snow in the air, but it was still autumn. By the afternoon, shortly before we headed out to a friend's house for Thanksgiving dinner, it started to snow. By Monday morning, autumn was no more...we were instead fully ensconced in winter.

The light on Monday morning was striking: greys, blues, yellows, mauves, and colours I don't even have words for. If I were a painter, I would have been out there trying to capture the feel of it all. The Yukon has one the highest concentrations of artists in Canada and it's on days like yesterday that I can fully understand why.

Lulu, you, your sketch pad and your paints must come for a visit!

From the Google Vault

A rescued mine worker emerges from Harmony Gold's Elandsrand Mine in Carletonville, South Africa. Photo: Themba Hadebe/AP.

It never ceases to amaze me what one can find on the Internet. This morning I was thinking about the 3,000+ miners who were trapped in, and later rescued from, a mine in South Africa. That led me to remember one of Nova Scotia's most famous mining disasters, which took place at the Cumberland Mine in Springhill in 1958 (Westray was of course to come much later).

For me, I first learned about the Cumberland mine accident from an elementary school teacher who taught history through song. To this day I still remember most of the lyrics. However I couldn't remember them all, so to Google I went to do a search. Lo and behold, there they were.

Footnote: I also remember being shocked when our teacher told us the miners resorted to drinking their own urine when their water ran out. Drinking pee??? It was all too much for my 8-year old mind to comprehend.

SPRINGHILL MINE DISASTER

In the town of Springhill, Nova Scotia

Down in the dark of the Cumberland Mine

There's blood on the coal and the miners lie

In the roads that never saw sun nor sky

In the roads that never saw sun nor sky

In the town of Springhill, you don't sleep easy

Often the earth will tremble and roll

When the earth is restless, miners die

Bone and blood is the price of coal

Bone and blood is the price of coal

In the town of Springhill, Nova Scotia

Late in the year of fifty-eight

Day still comes and the sun still shines

But it's dark as the grave in the Cumberland mine

But it's dark as the grave in the Cumberland mine

Down at the coal face, miners working

Rattle of the belt and the cutter's blade

Rumble of the rock and the walls closed round

The living and the dead men two miles down

The living and the dead men two miles down

Twelve men lay two miles from the pitshaft

Twelve men lay in the dark and sang

Long hot days in the miners tomb

It was three feet high and a hundred long

It was three feet high and a hundred long

Three days past and the lamps gave out

And Caleb Rushton got up and and said

There’s no more water, or light, or bread
So we'll live on song and hope instead

So we'll live on song and hope instead

Listen for the shouts of the barefaced miners
Listen thru the rubble for a rescue team

Six hundred feet of coal and slag

Hope imprisoned in a three foot seam

Hope imiprisoned in a three foot seam

Eight days passes and some were rescued

Leaving the dead to lie alone

Thru all their lives they dug their grave

Two miles of earth for a marking stone

Two miles of earth for a marking stone

Read this website to learn more (the same website from which came the above photo). Also, to find out more about who Caleb Rushton was, and another of the miners who was trapped underground, scroll down past this piece of music.

All the Best Books are Banned Books

Interesting feature in this week's Time Magazine.

Golden View

View from my window at work...another Gold performance on the part of Mother Nature

Faster than a Speeding Bullet

I can't believe it's been a week since I last posted. I also can't believe it's October already. Life is flying by at breakneck speed.

The past few days have particularly been a blur. I finally finished the cleaning and painting in Iris' room. All that's left is to hang the pictures. While I was doing that, Alan was packing up his gear: today he's moving into a new place with two of his friends. My next task will be to clean his room so Jamie can move in there. Jamie's room will then need cleaning and painting so it can be turned into a yoga/prayer room of sorts (the current black and red walls don't really make for a calm and meditative setting!).

Lots of changes in the Binger household.