John Gushue . . . Dot Dot Dot

Happy Mother's Day

This is my mother, Sheila Gushue, when she was about 10 years old, near Rennie's River in St. John's. When she was a girl, going along Rennie's River meant going for a walk into the country; now, of course, it's long been in the heart of the city, or even just its east end. 

Nick assembled this and other photographs for a heritage project a few months ago. I love seeing photos of Mom when she was growing up, just as much as I love seeing her today. 

The new specs

Above is yours truly with my new glasses ... or at least new to my head. I bought them in June when we were on the road, and they've effectively been sitting in my dresser waiting for me to get around to getting an update on my prescription. (One of the vagaries of age: your eyes don't get any better!) 

I bought the frames at a stall at the Brooklyn Flea, the one in Fort Greene, to be precise. It's quite the event: dozens of vendors, with everything under the (hot) sun, from records to lemonade to pickles to robot collections to belts ... and on and on. That day, there were at least three vendors selling frames. My colleague Kathryn had recommended the stop, and I'm glad we went. The frames are a good fit, and it's nice that they were a good buy, too. 

A reflected selfie

I went on a photo walking tour on the Sunday morning when we were in New York recently, and one of the challenges was a self-portrait. 

I did mine as a reflection in a window along Fifth Avenue as we headed to Central Park. 

 

Mom's peonies

I stopped by to visit my parents yesterday; Mom's garden is in full bloom, and she sent some peonies home for Martha. 

Garden centre colours

Some warm weather notwithstanding, it's too early to plant in St. John's - but it's certainly OK to check out the garden centres and pick out things for the week ahead. I find the colours reviving enough for now! 

Travel plans

If all goes to plan, my passport will get some activity before the year is out. Our plan is to arrange a family trip to London in the months to come; if you have suggestions, get in touch. Thinking about the trip has already become a great pastime around the house. 

The Gushe

He answers to Bill, but I would guess that many of his best friends and even in the family just call him The Gushe. Dad turned 84 this weekend, and as this photo shows, is still very much in prime shape! My sister Lisa took this photograph of Dad in his den, which remains one of my favourite places (and libraries) around. It's always nice to have both my parents' birthdays within a week, particularly since my son's birthday falls in between. (A lot of birthday wishes around Christmas in our family, to be sure!) 

Sheila

This is my mother, Sheila Gushue, who celebrated her 80th birthday earlier this week; this is a photograph my sister Lisa took in Mom and Dad's home. Mom is such a delight: generous, always smiling, witty and welcoming. Dad celebrates a birthday later in the week, which always make the whole of the 12 Days of Christmas a true pleasure in our family. 

This is Nick learning he's going to Spain

Almost a couple of months ago, we all went out to dinner to celebrate the end of the school year ... and during the meal, we gave our son some surprise news. Martha's relatives in Madrid were gathering for a fairly quickly organized gathering, and we are able to send Nick along for the trip at the end of July. I had my phone pointing towards him as Martha told him the news, and then made this montage to show his change in reaction. I love how it turned out ... and of course was thrilled that he was able to see the country where his grandmother grew up, as well as many of his relatives. 

 

Stroke, stroke, stroke ..

We spent yesterday morning kayaking in Bonne Bay, setting out from Norris Point with a guided tour arranged by Sue Rendell and the great team at Gros Morne Adventures. Nick and I had done this on an earlier visit, and this time we talked Martha into tagging along. We all had a great time - unbelievable scenery, plus a spotting of a minke whale. 

Nick kept us laughing at one point. 

"Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke," he would say aloud, as I got him to set a steady pace as the lead in our two-seated kayak. 

And then he would go in his own direction. "Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, heart attack." That was followed by "stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, quadruple bypass, stroke, stroke, stroke, hepatitis." The alternative diseases piled up, from swine flu to kidney stones to cholera. 

I have no idea where that sense of humour came from. :) 

Sleep

I didn't wake up around 5 this morning, and for me, that's excellent. I'm now in vacation mode, having finished my last shift on Friday. I'm pretty much hard-wired to wake up just before 5, often before my alarm clock rings. That carried into the weekend, and while I certainly didn't get up right away, the brain stays awake.

Not today, though. Not quite an extra two hours, but I'll certainly take them. 

Last evening's sandwiches

It was fairly hot in St. John's yesterday, and Martha and I had a late supper in the evening. To deal with the heat, dinner was cold, and pretty simple. Martha whipped together slices of bread topped with delicious things ... each of them incidentally, featuring an ingredient she had prepared herself. 

Thus, one had apple chutney, another had pesto and a third had pickled peppers.  

And it was all good. 

The three of us

This is a montage I created to serve as the screensaver on my phone, with pictures taken over the last few months, showing each of us in a happy place. It's a little pick-me-up when I reach for the phone, and a great reminder of what's most important. 

Half-moon (pretty much), over St. John's

 

It was pretty crisp and cool this evening, so we didn't dawdle as we headed home. All the same, I took the time to take a snap of the sky. The moon looked pretty quiet hanging there tonight. 

 

What happens when a rock gives Martha a boost

You get a picture like this. 

I'm a little more than a foot taller than Martha, so when she noticed a nice, substantial rock during our evening walk, she hopped on. Nick took the shot. 

Mittens and gloves from the end of winter

Weird things happen during the winter months. The mystery I'd most like to solve is this: where do all the missing mittens and gloves go?

Above are the things that are left over at the end of winter. Actually, not just this winter, but several. They all have been holding up space in the baskets we use for storing mittens, hats and scarves. Yesterday, I set them out and took a snap ... and noticed something. Nick's remaining gloves (see the top row, at the left) are all left-handed. Hmm. The mystery deepens ...

 

Creature comforts

"There is nothing like staying at home, for real comfort." 
- Jane Austen

 

[We had a bit of a snow day here in St. John's. Schools closed for the afternoon, and the weather took a nasty turn for a while; an hour or so after I took this photo, gusts of wind made short work of the visibility, and driving became pretty treacherous. I was off for the day (I've been working weekends) and so headed out to pick up Nick; the home is full and warm and we're taking it easy.]  

Signal Hill, sunny and cold

I was working today, so I missed out on the impromptu walk that Nick suggested today on Signal Hill. Martha went with him, and while it didn't last as long as it might have (it was incredibly cold, they both reported), it was evidently inspiring. Martha took this picture along the way. 

The Gushe opens his birthday card

So, here's the thing. My father (his friends and quite a few of us in the family, too, call him the Gushe) has a wry sense of humour. (Yes, that's where I got it.) Since I can remember, he has made torture out of birthday cards he's been given, particularly if they're at all sentimental. Buy him a sickly-sweet card, and prepare for the consequences. I've bought him outrageously mawkish samples, which he has read out, year to year, with the same deadpan tone. I always look forward to it, in fact. 

This year, though, I tripped him with a card with a left-field bit of humour in its own right. 

Sales pitch and the old coat

The coat above is the green L.L. Bean item that has put me through every winter from 1994 onward, barring the days when I've worn a field coat (which has also seen far better days), the formal cloth coat I wear for funerals, weddings and important news events and the leather jacket I refuse to put away until I notice my freezing skin has attached itself to it. I'm stubborn that way. 

I had really hoped to get another winter out of the coat above. It's very comfortable, to the point that I could excuse minor problems, like nicks, rips and tears. Those minor tears, though, have become major ones, including one behind the right pocket that is, effectively, a much larger pocket in its own right. This weekend, the zipper separated itself from the bottom, and I noticed another problem on the left-hand side. 

Enough to make me recognize the inevitable: the coat, which has been mended and patched a few times already, has run itself into the ground. As well, 18 years is not at all shabby for a coat that I put on, I reckon, a couple of thousand times or so. 

So, this evening, I decided to replace it. Martha and I took to the interwebs (online shopping is pretty much your only choice for that kind of thing when you're my size) and found a very decent parka, and on sale too. Turns out, to no surprise, that the week after Christmas is a good time to decide spontaneously to get a new coat, with a sales pitch that's hard to beat.

Cheap enough was the deal, in fact, that I got a dress shirt and a tie for another $25, plus a pair each of boots and sneakers for our rapidly growing son (who's feet sizes, in Grade 6, are already in the larger end of the men's selection, period). 

We wrapped up the whole expedition in less time than it took to write this, let alone what it would have taken to drive anywhere. Small wonder digital retail is booming. 

As for the old coat, it and I will soon have to part ways. I almost feel like giving it a burial at sea. 

A birthday mug of hot chocolate

 

Our son Nicholas - we call him Nick except when we really need his attention - turned 12 today. Well, that went quickly. 

It happens to be a holiday today, so Martha and I are devoting the day to his agenda, and will be taking him wherever he wants to go. A fun day is in store! 

 

So nice to meet you, too!

This happened today. 

I was in the mall after work, catching up with the family after parking the car. We were headed out to a movie. 

On my way, I felt this slap - a back of the hand that came up against my right cheek - and then saw this woman in front of me, saying this: "My God, how are ya!! Oh, you're not who I thought you were." 

She might then have said "sorry" or something, and off she went. 

My skin was still stinging as I figured out what had just happened. 

And of course my mind then wondered, um, how many people exactly out there resemble me, even from the side or from behind? 

Nick's Christmas Mix (2011 edition)

 

Each December, beginning in the year our son was born, I've been making a mixtape for family and close friends of Christmas tunes. What started as a one-off stocking stuffer has turned into, well, a thing ... although probably it's better to call it a tradition. 

Actually, it's fun to do. We sift through many, many songs (I have hundreds sitting in an iTunes folder) and each year I pick up more, just to complicate things. New releases this year, incidentally, include the tracks by She & Him, Jack Johnson, Joan Osborne, David Ian and Carole King.

This year's set includes some songs that have been on the long list for a long time; the Gary Burton tune, for instance, is on a jazz compilation that's one of the first Christmas albums I ever bought.

The mix is, as always, all over the place. Where else could you put Luscious Jackson next to Tony Bennett? There's some indie pop, made-for-martinis jazz, some Sixties soul (the Funk Brothers were the house band at Motown) and loungewear. There's even a song that has nothing to do with Christmas or any holiday, but their name after all is the Decemberists, they put the word "angel" in a title and I got the idea after seeing it on a Christmas anthology.

I love stumbling across unexpected chestnuts, and the one this year is Daniel Radcliffe singing a cover of A Christmas Carol - not by Charles Dickens, but Tom Lehrer, whose satirical songs I learned at a very young age from my dad's stereo. 

Here are the tunes this year. 

She & Him: The Christmas Song
Vince Guaraldi Trio: Linus And Lucy 
Jimmy Buffett: Christmas Island 
Billy Paul Williams: Santa Claus Is Coming to Town 
Carole King: My Favorite Things 
Joan Osborne: Angels We Have Heard on High 
Jack Johnson: In The Morning 
Gary Burton: O Tannenbaum
Emmylou Harris: The First Noel 
David Ian: The Christmas Waltz 
Duke Ellington: Sugar Rum Cherry (from the Nutcracker) 
Chuck Berry: Run Rudolph Run  
Darlene Love: Marshmallow World
The Beach Boys: Little Saint Nick
The Funk Brothers: Winter Wonderland  
Luscious Jackson: Let It Snow
Tony Bennett and the Count Basie Big Band: Silver Bells
The Pretenders: 2000 Miles 
Michael Bublé: It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas 
Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings: Ain't No Chimneys in the Project
The Alarm: Happy Xmas (War Is Over) 
Bruce Cockburn: Joy to the World 
Annie Lennox: In the Bleak Midwinter 
The Decemberists: Angel, Won't You Call Me
King Curtis: What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?
Daniel Radcliffe (and the cast of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying): A Christmas Carol 

 

Family photos

We posed for a family photo a couple of weeks ago - a bunch of them, and with extended family members on Martha's side. It actually went quite well, and the results are handsome. I'm not why we don't do it more often, whether it's at Christmas or not; we certainly have not had the difficulty that, say, the Simpsons encounter! (The image above is from last Sunday's Christmas-themed episode, which was as sharp and joke-filled as the series has ever been.) 

Our good fortune (cookies)

We went out for dinner a while ago at our favourite Chinese restaurant, and found that the messages in the fortune cookies could not have more appropriately served. 

Here, for instance, is Nick's: 

Here's Martha's (and it may help to know that she runs her own business, a consulting practice):

And here's mine ... one anyone, I think, would like to receive.