Fluff and I wish you all the merriest of all Christmasses and thank you for your numerous kindnesses and marks of true friendship towards us this last year. Big bear hugs all around !! My treat !!
P.S. Our card was conceptualized and photoshopped by Raccoon Hollow Enterprises' own top thinker and designer , Fluff La Rue
There is rarely a dull day around here so today was no exception. Yesterday was outdoor tree day ...........anchoring the firtree in its heavy iron stand against overzealous blustery winds or other wintry foes. Instead of the usual red and green lights this year I happily gave in to Fluff''s request and strung two sets of pure white LED lights , thereby enshrouding the Christmas fir in that " pure-as-the-driven-snow " glow. We likewise have decided that the tree shall be mobile this year...........at the front door , outside patio door , in corner of verandah , out by the road , etc
Since I was in a Christmasy mood this afternoon I set out up to harvest and fetch spuce and fir boughs with which to weave my Yule Wreath onto a frame I had already built beforehand..............Soooo up snd over the hump of snow along the road and laid down my aluminum ladder to step on rather than sink belly-button deep into Mother Nature's fluffy-white mantle. Now Merriam Webster and I don't see eye to eye on the definition of the word "bough " , portraying it as a branch of a tree and especially the main branch. Being brought up in rural New Brunswick I got my basic training in zoology and botony from my Dad and other elders of our wee community and for us a bough is a limb of all coniferous evergreen trees whereas a branch is its leafy-tree counterpart. I guess the song hinted in the title has got it right........Deck the halls with boughs of holly........... since science tells us the the holly tree is an evergreen.
Just as I finished clipping off the last bough I slipped off the ladder and sank hip - deep into the white stuff..... so I simply keeled over and rolled out to he roadside , dragging the ladder along with me as I rotated......thus the snowy look in the second picture.
Since I was in a Christmassy mood this afternoon I set out up to harvest and fetch spuce and fir boughs with which to weave my Yule Wreath onto a frame I had already built beforehand..............Soooo up snd over the hump of snow along the road and laid down my aluminum ladder to step on rather than sink hip deep into Mother Nature's fluffy-white mantle. Now Merriam Webster and I don't see eye to eye on the definition of the word "bough " , portraying it as a branch of a tree and especially the main branch. Being brought up in rural New Brunswick I got my basic training in zoology and botony from my Dad and other elders of our wee community and for us a bough is a limb of all coniferous evergreen trees whereas a branch is its leafy-tree counterpart. I guess the song hinted in the title has got it right........Deck the halls with boughs of holly........... since science tells us the the holly tree is an evergreen.
Just as I finished clipping off the last bough I slipped off the ladder and sank belly-button deep into the white stuff..... so I simply keeled over and rolled out to he roadside , dragging the ladder along with me as I rotated......thus the snowy look in the second picture.
For an instant the scenario before me sent my brain into idling mode and images of Christmas cards of yore flickered through my mind with slogans such as the once lofty but nowadays fast-fading wish of peace to all mankind ......... horse - drawn sleighs ploughing though the snow to midnight services at the village church .... bells a chiming and a tolling...... folks all bundled up in their winter finery , whiffs of smoke curling upwards from chimneys on snow-clad rooftops ,etc Just enough to give a guy that "warm fuzzy feeling"of well-being , hope and optimism.
Just then ....... out of nowhere........ Li'l Athol popped up......sitting there on my left shoulder whispering in my ear that well - known Seinfeldian existential question , "War , what is it good for ?" ...... adding somewhat philosophically that maybe more wars would bring more solutions to mankind's woes and injustices. I hesitated for a moment ...... then counterstruck with my own query , " Snow , what is it good for ? "The impish look on his face gave way to bewilderment so I explained that in recent history snow had "cooled down" the fiendish endeavours of two raving / conquering maniacs ( Napoleon and Hitler ) in their attempts at world domination.......... adding that maybe we could find a way to somehow hasten the return of another Ice Age so as to torpedo plans by any other warm-blooded fanatics hell-bent on taking over our majestic orb and its inhabitants.
This morning I arose earlier than is my usual wont , gazed out the patio windows and was awed by what I saw. Once again Mother Nature was retouching Her self-portrait and I was fortunate enough to have a front seat ..... there in the morning silence.......watching the Artist wield Her brush. A passage from Robert Service's " The Shooting of Dan Mc Grew" came to mind , " Were you ever out in the Great Alone when the moon was awful clear , and the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could hear ?" Yes ,it was that kind of morning ! A positively homespun , philosophical beginning to a great day !!
For an instant the scenario before me sent my brain into idling mode and images of Christmas cards of yore flickered through my mind with slogans such as the once lofty but nowadays fast-fading wish of peace to all mankind ......... horse - drawn sleighs ploughing though the snow to midnight services at the village church .... bells a chiming and a tolling...... folks all bundled up their winter finery , whiffs of smoke curling upwards from chimneys on snow-clad rooftops ,etc Just enough to give a guy that "warm fuzzy feeling"of well-being , hope and optimism.
Just then ....... out of nowhere........ Li'l Athol popped up......sitting there on my left shoulder whispering in my ear that well - known Seinfeldian existential question , "War , what is it good for ?" ...... adding somewhat philosophically that maybe more wars would bring more solutions to mankind's woes and injustices. I hesitated for a moment ...... then counterstruck with my own query , " Snow , what is it good for ? "The impish look on his face gave way to bewilderment so I explained that in recent history snow had "cooled down" the fiendish endeavours of two raving / conquering maniacs ( Napoleon and Hitler ) in their attempts at world domination.......... adding that maybe we could find a way to somehow hasten the return of another Ice Age so as to torpedo plans by any other warm-blooded fanatics hell-bent on taking over our majestic orb and its inhabitants.
In the Fall of 1929 a major fire was reported at the far end of Douglas Avenue , Saint John , New Brunswick. The firestation doors opened wide on nearby Main Street and out rolled the horse-drawn engine ..... firefighters hanging from both sides. As they rounded the corner heading out Douglas Avenue the heavy vehicle tipped over crushing two firemen underneath its weight.... the eight horses panicked and bolted forward dragging the unfortunate victims along with them. A young 26-year-old man sprang from the crowd loitering there on the corner , jumped in front of the two lead horses.... grabbing each by the halter..... and managed to stop the runaways...... thereby bringing a halt to the tragic mishap. The young man's name was Edmund McNulty , or McAnulty as they wrote it back then.....and he was my Dad ........ and I buried him 21 years ago today.
One half hour earlier he had stepped down from the train at Union Station after a two-year jaunt out West in Alberta where he had driven teams of horses dragging huge loads of felled timber down to the sawmills from the Crow's Nest Pass in the Rockies and also working wheat harvesting on the Canadian Prairies. The above picture was taken that very day at Union Station with his travelling buddy " Hum " Cronin. My Dad ( glasses and flowing white scarf ) told me that he and "Hum" had bought their suits in Moose Jaw and had spruced up and donned them about a half hour before their arrival in Saint John after a five-day train trip ...... to impress the hell out of their old cronies and especially for the girls.... so he said !!
According to his buddies ..... were it not for the proverbial dog , my father could easily have been chosen " man's best friend". His work mates vied to pair up with him in the workplace because he always pulled his load. He was no slacker ! Later on men would line up to work under his orders when he was longshore boss because he was fair and just to all. As for his being a great husband and father...... well , whether he' d had an exhausting , rough 'n tumble day on the docks with his men or a rowdy evening at McLaughlin's Pool Hall carousing with his "bummy" friends I would always fall asleep listening to the murmur of my parents' voices....... down on their knees bedside in the adjacent room.......... telling their beads before turning in for the night.
In the Fall of 1929 a major fire was reported at the far end of Douglas Avenue , Saint John , New Brunswick. The firestation doors opened wide on nearby Main Street and out rolled the horse-drawn engine ..... firefighters hanging from both sides. As they rounded the corner heading out Douglas Avenue the heavy vehicle tipped over crushing two firemen underneath its weight.... the eight horses panicked and bolted forward dragging the unfortunate victims along with them. A young 26-year-old man sprang from the crowd loitering there on the corner , jumped in front of the two lead horses.... grabbing each by the halter..... and managed to stop the runaways...... thereby bringing a halt to tragic mishap. The young man's name was Edmund McNulty , or McAnulty as they wrote it back then.....and he was my Dad ........ and I buried him 21 years ago today.
One half hour earlier he had stepped down from the train at Union Station after a two-year jaunt out West in Alberta where he had driven teams of horses dragging huge loads of felled timber down to the sawmills from the Crow's Nest Pass in the Rockies and also working wheat harvesting on the Canadian Prairies. The above picture was taken that very day at Union Station with his travelling buddy " Hum " Cronin. My Dad ( glasses and flowing white scarf ) told me that he and "Hum" had bought their suits in Moose Jaw and had spruced up and donned them about a half hour before their arrival in Saint John after a five-day train trip ...... to impress the hell out of their old cronies and especially for the girls.... so he said !!
According to his buddies ..... were it not for the proverbial dog , my father could easily have been chosen " man's best friend". His work mates vied to pair up with him in the workplace because he always pulled his load. He was no slacker ! Later on men would line up to work under his orders when he was longshore boss because he was fair and just to all. As for his being a great husband and father...... well , whether he' d had an exhausting , rough 'n tumble day on the docks with his men or a rowdy evening at McLaughlin's Pool Hall carousing with his "bummy" friends I would always fall asleep listening to the murmur of my parents voices....... down on their knees bedside in the adjacent room.......... telling their beads before turning in for the night.
We started moving up here from the city on November 21st , 1974 with no snow on the ground at all ..... and then it began falling.... and falling..... and falling until the following morning the 22nd when I took this picture........big tent trailer with snow piled high on left in foreground with old snow-clad VW on the right. I was unable to make it home with my last trailer full and spent the night in a mall midway between downtown and our place..... too much snow and too heavy a load.........maybe lousy winter tires back then and steep hills to boot !! Once again we are supposed to get about 14 or 15 inches of the white stuff overnight . Happy Gobbler Day to our American friends !
P.S. Not one November 22nd goes by sincc 1963 that I forget the guy who uttered , " Ich bin ein Berliner ".
Growing up at the tail end of the Great Depression and during the Second World War on Pokiok Road just north of Saint John , New Brunswick it would be an understatement to say that " times were tough " and leave it at that. We lived on the fine edge of outright poverty and were it not for my father's working longshore as a stevedore plus his intensive gardening in Summer and my Mom's making every wee bit count , life would have been far more onorous. It was in this setting that I grew to love squash and pumpkin in some form as they were part and parcel of our daily diet from September until supplies in our makeshift root-cellar ran out some time in early March or April of the following year. Folklorically speaking people usually refer to pumpkins and squash as vegetables whereas science classes them as fruit since they and cucumbers , melons , etc develop from a flower while veggies do not !! Even today ... many years later... I still remain a huge fan of these gourds , the generic term used to cover all these tasty items. In fact , I think I shall peel and cook up the small green Buttercup squash in the foreground of the title picture. Sufficeth to say I LOVE GOURDS !!
In the above image the Buttercup is in the foreground sentinelled or flanked by two Acorn squash , a type I eat very little of along with Spaghetti , Butternut and Turban squash. In the background on the left is our classical pumpkin and to the right is a " potiron " atop which I have placed a Turban Squash which I might just dry out , empty and make into an Easter bonnet for my friend , Cindy Anne.The " potiron " is very popular here in Québec .... even meriting a special word other than " citrouille " to set it apart from our everyday pumpkin. It is a great favourite among gourmets for making soup..... even bottled and sold in grocery stores. The " potiron " , as you can see below , is quite squat ..... flattened out...and deeper orange in colour than is its pumpkin kinfolk. My QUESTION to my esteemed and knowledgeable readers is DOES ANYONE KNOW A POPULAR WORD IN ENGLISH FOR " POTIRON " ?
About ten days ago I broke loose from Fluff and went out to run the routine errands.... the bank , post office and supermarket. While in the line up at the bank I happened to gaze over my shoulder and spied my friend , Boris ... It was a chilly day ..... maybe +1 Celcius ...but sunny . Boris is squat and stockily overweight and was barefoot in sandals and sporting soiled white shorts. Everybody else was muffled up and dressed for the weather. Now Boris and I go way back as we had lived in the same apartment building downtown some 35 years ago and we had moved up here to the boonies almost simultaneously so I blurted out spontaneously , " You just got off the plane , Boris ?" In his usual gruff voice Boris queried , " What plane ?"....... to which I replied , " From the Barbados !" Because of the silence everybody .... even the tellers....were tuned into our conversation. The place erupted in laughter... Boris too...
Anyways yesterday Fluff let me go it alone again. So I starrted out at the bank .... in a rather short line up. After a minute a raspy voice spoke up behind me , " Je vois que tu t' es échappé à sa surveillance encore une fois !". . " You' ve snuck out on her again I see!" . I swung around to see the usually scowly jowly face of my friend Boris transformed by a smiley one.... from ear to ear. It was his turn to get a few laughs so I let things be and played the role of stereotyped , bedraggled husband. I decided to let Boris carry the day and not cheapen myself nor him by making some stupid snide remark about his apparel as he looked as though he had just clothed himself at the local Salvation Army haberdashery and would have been easy pickin's. Joking around and humour such as ours should never lose sight of respect for the other guy.
I went from the bank to the post office where , of course , I ran into Boris once again....... complaining about some retarded Income Tax civil servant who kept sending unwarranted mail. From there on to the supermarket where , at Fluff's request . I am picking up items necessary for maintaining harmony between body and soul for the ensuing 48 hours. When I turned the corner near the dairy produce / products I was ambushed by a woman in a white smock , one of those people pushing a certain brand. She saw me put a liter of Lactantia milk in my basket and tried to entice me to try hers by offering me a 10% discount. I told the lady that I wouldn't dare bring anything else home but Lactantia milk ... otherwise my wife ....who is much younger and bigger than myself..... would beat the living daylights out of me. Since I said it with a straight face the woman froze like a doe in the headlights. Just then I saw Boris turn the corner too.... he had been listening to our conversation so he uttered to the poor lady as he wheeled his cart by us , " Il dit vrai..... je connais sa femme..... elle est costaude et méchante..... très méchante !" ....." He's telling the truth..... I know his wife......she's big and mean...... real mean ! He said this without breaking his stride nor cracking a smile........ that is until we both reached the check-out counter where we both had a good chuckle. Another day of routine errands ends.
Anyways yesterday Fluff let me go it alone again. So I starrted out at the bank .... in a rather short line up. After a minute a raspy voice spoke up behind me , " Je vois que tu t' es échappé à sa surveillance encore une fois !". . " You' ve snuck out on her again I see!" . I swung around to see the usually scowly jowly face of my friend Boris transformed by a smiley one.... from ear to ear. It was his turn to get a few laughs so I let things be and played the role of stereotyped , bedraggled husband. I decided to let Boris carry the day and not cheapen myself nor him by making some stupid snide remark about his apparel as he looked as though he had just clothed himself at the local Salvation Army haberdashery and would have been easy pickin's. Joking around and humour such as ours should never lose sight of respect for the other guy.
I went from the bank to the post office where , of course , I ran into Boris once again....... complaining about some retarded Income Tax civil servant who kept sending unwarranted mail. From there on to the supermarket where , at Fluff's request . I am picking up items necessary for maintaining harmony between body and soul for the ensuing 48 hours. When I turned the corner near the dairy produce / products I was ambushed by a woman in a white smock , one of those people pushing a certain brand. She saw me put a liter of Lactantia milk in my basket and tried to entice me to try hers by offering me a 10% discount. I told the lady that I wouldn't dare bring anything else home but Lactantia milk ... otherwise my wife ....who is much younger and bigger than myself..... would beat the living daylights out of me. Since I said it with a straight face the woman froze like a doe in the headlights. Just then I saw Boris turn the corner too.... he had been listening to our conversation so he uttered to the poor lady as he wheeled his cart by us , " Il dit vrai..... je connais sa femme..... elle est costaude et méchante..... très méchante !" ....." He's telling the truth..... I know his wife......she's big and mean...... real mean ! He said this without breaking his stride nor cracking a smile........ that is until we both reached the check-out counter where we both had a good chuckle. Another day of routine errands ends.
I have been delving into the online federal and provincial records , passenger lists of ships out of Ireland between the years 1833 and 1852 and many other available sources such as my own good memory and especially from a sit-down session back in 1985 I had with my mother and father who were well into their eighties and very alert and quite knowledgeable about their origins.I wrote down the results of that meeting. I regret not making the rounds of Saint John City Archives , old newspapers and parish baptismal , marriage and death data while there on holidays last June. Might even make a quick trip with Fluff down that way before the snow starts to fly. Apart from my own interest for my ancestrry I am doing it mainly for my sons and as my wee contribution to the history of the McAnulty / McNulty clan in New Brunswick and elsewheres. The Irish Gaeilge way of writing our name Mac An Ultaigh ( Son of the Ulstermen ) shows up mainly McAnulty or McNulty when anglicized in the North American records. For the moment my sons don't give a hoot about the question but I feel certain that some day they will rummage through my belongings , find these papers and deem them worthy of interest.
All in all it's been a rewarding quest for roots. I found a few cases of children born out of wedlock , cover ups where daughters are calling a woman " auntie " while in reality " auntie " was her biological mother ..... and this same daughter addressing her true siblings as nephew and niece whereas they were her biological brothers and sisters . And there is more !! At least I found nobody doing hard time in federal or provincial slammers ! BG .......... no hereditary ties to the Borgias ......... I hope to post my results in more detail here in Multiply some time soon.
When you stand under an appletree and shake it you feel pretty certain that apples .... not peaches nor pears ......are going to conk you on the head.However ,when shaking your family tree the nature and quality of the fallout is not so evident and sure as in the latter . And thus it was for me. I have always been interested in family history and geneology but moreso these last few months...........even going so far as to drag poor Fluff through the back roads of Maine in early September to visit some old Swedish settlements and then , as though by serendipity , end up in nearby Mars Hill and Presque Isle , Maine where my great grandmother's decendants now lived. I renewed old aquaintances and met a few new ones with whom I have been communicating by phone and e-mail ever since ..... exchanging tidbits of info while hoping to clarify and put order into our mutually shared bloodlines.
I have been delving into the online federal and provincial records , passenger lists of ships out of Ireland between the years 1833 and 1852 and many other available sources such as my own excellent memory and especially from a sit-down session back in 1985 I had with my mother and father who were well into their eighties and very alert and knowledgeable about their origins. I wrote down the results of that meeting. I regret not making the rounds of Saint John City Archives , old newspapers and parish baptismal , marriage and death data while there on holidays last June. Might even make a quick trip with Fluff down that way before the snow starts to fly. Apart from my own interest for my ancestrry I am doing it mainly for my sons and as my wee contribution to the history of the McAnulty / McNulty clan in New Brunswick and elsewheres. The Irish Gaeilge way of writing our name Mac An Ultaigh ( Son of the Ulstermen ) shows up mainly McAnulty or McNulty when anglicized in the North American records. For the moment my sons don't give a hoot about the question but I feel certain that some day they will rummage through my belongings , find these papers and deem them worthy of interest.
All in all it's been a rewarding quest for roots. I found a few cases of children born out of wedlock , cover ups where daughters are calling a woman " auntie " while in reality " auntie " was her biological mother ..... and this same daughter addressing her true siblings as nephew and niece whereas they were her biological brothers and sisters . And there is more !! At least I found nobody doing hard time in federal or provincial slammers ! No ties to the Borgias !! BG I hope to post my results in more detail ........ the full unadulterated version .......in Multiply some time soon.
Growing up in a bi-lingual country can be fun..... especially if you are interested in languages. By law all products and produce sold in Canada must have accompanying info or instructions in both languages .... French and English. Breakfast was a learning experience as we kids gulped down our favourite Snap Crackle and Pops while reading the backs of cereal boxes comparing Corn Flakes to Flocons de Maïs .or flakes of maize. Then someone from my Irish entourage might remind me that Kellogs was the Scottish form of the old Gaelic word " coileach " .... rooster , cock..... and all of a sudden the ' wake up guy with a topnotch ' on the box took on real meaning !!
When buying a desk at Staples or a wheelbarrow and outdoor propane gas BBQ appliances at Canadian Tire which come in the form of jigsaw puzzles these objects always come with step by step bi-lingual instructions telling you how to put the dadblasted masterpiece together. If you are following the English version you may or may not have difficulties assembling the parts ..... and should you be bi-lingual you might even crossreference by checking out the French directives.... quite often either gains or losses of information between the two renditions are available LOL. For example in English they might include four bolts with three washers and five nuts whereas in French you could end up with only three bolts , four washers and four nuts !! Sometimes it could be a bit more serious though. .... the case of screwing in a table leg until tight and in French an important gain in info telling you to screw leg tight until you hear a click , meaning that the leg is now firmly in place and won't fall off . One might even throw in a free wrench while the other does not .I always read both sets and decide upon the best .
To avoid complicating an idea which , at the outset , was meant to be simple I shall now bring this short post to an end with two quick anecdotes about translation pitfalls and pleasures.
First of all the Finnish episode comes to mind. I was doing research back in the 70s at the University of Helsinki and living at the local Hospiz or WMCA .. cheap but clean rooms. There were two public toilets on each floor and one day while sitting there with time to waste while waiting for the show to start I began reading the houserules hanging on the wall beside me . They were written in five languages : Finnish , Swedish , German , English and Russian. Check out time for the Russians was 10 am , for the Finns and Swedes 11 am , the Germans had to be out by noon whereas the English version gave us until 1 pm n the afernoon !! I noticed an extra line though in Russian absent on the others .. a gain of info so to speak....which translated out as " please do not steal the toilet paper !". Had I been Russian I would have felt utterly humiliated !!..
The second anecdotal item concerns a phone call I received this morning from one of my former students who is nowadays working on native landclaims and was looking for someone to translate a text into the Innu language and vice versa too !! So I gave him the name of a woman whom I had trained as a technolinguist some years ago and who does a great deal of interpreting / translating for her people... Marie- Jeanne. At the mention of her name my mind drifted back to Marie-Jeanne's first translation for the goverment IT wanted her to put into " Indian" (as they called it back then ) some godforsaken text about water rights and pay her five cents a word in the target language , her own native Innu. Now as I explained in a recent blog Innu is a word -sentence language which implies that one word in Innu corresponds to many words in one of our own Indo-European tongues. Example ... I see you = tshiwapmitin in Innu....three words in English , only one in Innu / you see me = tshiwapmin / he sees you = tshiwapmukw / etc .I' ll add one final clincher for those who might be interested. .... a simple sentence of introduction .. I am very pleased that you are well = Nimistaminwenten e-minupaniekw ! Should Marie-Jeanne be paid in the target language here then she has just earned $ .10 ( ten cents ) since there are but two words in the translation . However , she would earn $ .40 ( forty cents ) if paid according to the number of words in the starting language. My advice to Marie-Jeanne was ... and still is ... to never accept a contract wherein she is nemunerated using a wordcount based on her own language.
P.S. In above pic Marie-Jeanne is the young woman on the right. The other woman is also Innu whereas the two young men are Atikamekw and speak a language close to Innu structurally and historically ..... yet not mutually understandable.
THE SETTING :
The good ship SS Yahoo360 has been plying the waters of Happy Sea now for almost two and a half years during which period clear sailing has been the order of the day except for the odd squall now and then. However , of late icebergs have been sighted ahead off our port and starboard gunwales sowing much consternation among the passengers many of whom have already started requesting the captain lower the lifeboats so that they might safely motor or row their way to safety aboard Yahoo360's sistership , the SS Multiply ,....... or even switch to other cruiselines which have many steamers in the immediate vicinity..... such .. the SS Facebook , the SS MySpace ....and last , but not the least , the SS Blogger.
While observing the above goings on the following passage from the New Testament comes to mind ,
Mark 13:3-8 - And as he sat upon the mount of Olives over against the temple, Peter and James and John and Andrew asked him privately, Tell us, when shall these things be? and what shall be the sign when all these things shall be fulfilled? And Jesus answering them began to say, Take heed lest any man deceive you: For many shall come in my name, saying, I am Christ; and shall deceive many. And when ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars, be ye not troubled: for such things must needs be; but the end shall not be yet. For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be earthquakes in divers places, and there shall be famines and troubles: these are the beginnings of sorrows.
Being a technotwinkie in computer knowledge I shall probably stay faithful to Yahoo360 until the bitter-sweet end. However , I'll not go down with the ship . Like many of you I too have my very own back-up haven of refuge , GOOWY. COM..... home sweet home to me with free parking , hot coffee and sticky , " gooey " doughnuts 24/7....... a real Mom and Pop site far from the squabbles of corporate blogging !!
Whenever I travel the highways , byways or pathways of our planet , whether at home or abroad , my mind is constantly busy absorbing and analyzing data from what I see , hear , feel , etc around me .............. measuring it against what I know already or storing it in the vault for future reference. Since early childhood I have always been an avid student and lover of people(s) , their histories and cultures, their geography , their languages and cultures..... and especially the way they think and name their environments. It is no wonder then that I chose a career in anthropological linguistics. Anything culturally , religiously or topographically relevant to the people will be reflected in the names it allots to its landscapes and waterways. Thus , on a recent trip to the northeasternmost corner of " those good ole U. S. of As"...... tucked neatly in between the two Canadian provinces of Québec and New Brunswick......Fluff and I visited with the decendants of Swedish colonies established there back in 1871 and which to this day mirror nostalgically the "old country ".... Stockholm , New Sweden , Jämtland and Westmanland.
Two weeks ago we set out again for the State of Maine ..... crossing " la Beauce " , recalling the rolling countryside just south of Paris ( France ) on the road to Bordeaux...... with its numerous quaint villages most of which bear the names of Catholic Saints : Sainte Marie , Saint Isidore , Saint Bernard , Saint Georges , Saint Odilon , Saint Gédéon , Saint Côme , etc Then across the U. S. border at Jackman and , following the Kennebec River through the dense Maine forest for roughly an hour , we finally come to an agglomeration of some 25 houses with one huge elementary school. Moscow , Maine !! From here its on down highway 201 to Skowhegan where we get a choice......either turn left towards Bangor and Calais ( reverberations of well-known places in France ) or keep right and head for Interstate 95 South.... Miami here I come !! Barely 15 minutes southbound on the Maine Turnpike ( one slice of 95 )and the first exit hints at the British Isles posting Bristol , Bath , Belfast and Plymouth whereas the next one echoes Central Europe with Vienna and Belgrade !! One wintry night some 40 years ago I was taking a shortcut back to Québec through Maine during an honest-to-God white-out blizzard . The I 95 was blocked off so I started taking the backroads as I inched my way homewards through the ever-deepening snow ....... the bumper of my old Volks was pushing snow when I came to a dimly lit crossroads. With visibility almost nil I got out of the car to better read the signposts . I had four options..... go straight ahead to China , turn left and go to South China , bear right to North China or head back to Bangor !! With all due respect to my friend , Chun ( from the real China ) I turned back that night to wait the storm out !!
And now comes the moment in my blog where I either pull the plug and jump ship while the readers' interest may still be afloat.............. or bring this post to a slow-motion conclusion headlining a couple of examples drawn from a domaine so dear and close to my heart.......... North American native toponymy or placenaming. Let's face it !! They got here some 15 to 20 thousand years before we did and naturally named the elements of their environments as they settled or wandered throughout this vast territory. It is a fact that over one half of all the States , Provinces and Territories of both Canada and the U.S. bear names drafted / stolen / borrowed from aboriginal languages as well as hundreds of thousands of other officially designated terms for our rivers , lakes , streams , hills and mountains , bays , coves , cities , towns and villages , etc During my career I was privileged to teach the Innu language as part of my yearly workload..... and this over 31 years. Now this language is one of roughly 40 languages which make up the Algonquian language family , the most widespread nartive linguistic stock in North America..... stretching from Newfoundland southwards to Virginia ..... westward to the Mid-West....... around the Great Lakes..... and from Newfoundland stretching westwards to the Canadian Rockies.
And now is the point where I could expatiate........ dissecting and analyzing native placenames that ornate our territories such as Kennebec , Kennebunk / Kennebunkport or Bush Compound..... or maybe Chicago , Illinois , Milawaukee , Kenosha , Michigan , Massachusetts , Connecticut ,etc...... However , I think I'll take a raincheck on this and wait see how this post pans out. There is one prediction I'll make though just for the fun of it. I have driven through the southern part of Rhode Island but never have I laid eyes on nor visited Pawtucket , one of the State's important cities. Nevertheless , I am sure that somewhere within the city limits of Pawtucket there are sizeable waterfalls. The Innu word for waterfalls is "pawhtukw "or at the falls " pawhtukut". Maybe some of you are familiar with this New England town/city ?
For the past few days I have been looking for a "gripping" topic to write about.......... and only this afternoon did it dawn on me that here before my very eyes was unfolding a tale worthy of both human as well as scientific interest. Now we all know how much Fluff loves and is devoted to wildlife and its well-being ............feeding everybody and anybody with wings or paws who shows up at our back door. Among our feathered visitors the ducks and bluejays receive her special attention and affection. These last three years Fluff has been sporadically leaving out peanuts along the railing top around the verandah for the jays so I began encouraging her set up a controlled environment wherein to attract and train the jays to do her bidding !! And the ideal spot would be the window-sill just behind where she spends so much time communicating with all her friends and readers through her blog and other creative activities. Her working hypothesis with the jays was " if you feed them , they will come !"...... applicable likewise to long-lost relatives and free-loading friends !........ and they DID come and are STILL flocking to our back window............ as long as there is food on the sill they come early and leave late !! Fluff has trained the jays !! Bravo !!
Of late I've noticed strange happenings though........... one big male jay alights on a branch just outside the window to Fluff's right , struts its wares a bit , primps , ruffles and fluffs up its delicate white down ...... flaunts its colours and topnotch or mohawk .........and Fluff is so awed and overcome by its beauty that she gets up , opens the window and spreads out another row of peanuts. At other moments ..... a blustery rainy day .... or a cold windy day........ the bloody jay just roosts there in full view ..... shivering so to speak and putting on his most miserable look........and Fluff caves ! She grabs a handfull of peanuts from her giant bag , slides the window open and lines up the loot......... maybe some 10 items all told ! The woman has a good and generous heart !
10 minutes later the peanuts are all gone and the foxy jay is back outside the window sitting there on the closest limb and looking utterly down and out ....at the end of his tether ........ that 'can you spare me a dime , buddy ?' look in his eye......... and Fluff caves again !!
The moral of the story is that Fluff set out to train the jays .........and ended up in turn being programmed by the jays herself !!
P.S. I wrote this blog two days ago and since then I have noticed that even the chickadees are now starting to mimic the damn jays by putting on that forsaken look when perched just outside our window !!
En me levant ce matin je me suis posé la question à savoir s'il y avait des gens de la francophonie mondiale ( France , Belgique , Québec , Suisse , etc ) qui passaient par ici de temps en temps ... ou non ! Alors , j'ai décidé de tenter une experience en écrivant mon blog en français plutôt qu'en anglais. Pour débuter je peux vous dire que nous..... moi et ma douce moitié , Fluff...... habitons une jolie petite chaumière sur le bord de la Rivière Jaune en plein milieu de la forêt boréale québecoise. Ici à la maison nous parlons anglais entre nous puisque Fluff est suédoise et moi-même de souche irlandaise tandisqu' avec les gens de la région ..... les gens qui nous entourent.... nos voisins quoi !... nous parlons la langue de Molière. 99% de la population de la ville de Quèbec et ses environs sont francophones.
Aujourd"hui il fait un temps plutôt mossade ..... pluie menue agaçante.......tandisque depuis le début du mois de septembre nous jouissons d'une température exceptionnellement fort agréable ..... presqu'estivale..... ce qui me permet de me bagner régulièrement à tous les jours dans notre piscine creusée.........laquelle serait normalement fermée à cette époque tardive de l'année. On a déjà eu notre premier gel meurtrier où les plantes faibles ont " mordu la poussière " pendant que d' autres , plus costaudes , ont survécu et fleurissent toujours.En tout cas nous savons fort bien que la neige n'est pas loin et qu'il faudra bientôt chausser nos pneus d' hiver. Alors , mes ami (e) s .... tirez - vous une bûche ( assoyez - vous en québecois ) et envoyez - nous un p'tit mot pour nous renseigner sur ce qui se passe chez vous............vos quelques arpents carrées sur cette planète que nous partageons tous ensemble. À bientôt !
P.S. Many folks with diverse ethnic backgrounds and languages pass through the Yahoo 360 maze every day so I have extended an open hand to any of those who may be French speakers .......... simply extending a friendly hand , folks , and by no means wishing to snub my " regular customers " .
This hackneyed command has been the source of manys a chuckle over the years when referring to alien encounters ...... or in its more rustic version in old cowboy and Indian movies... " Take me to your chief !".I have always been highly impressed by the " foreigners " quick understanding of the English language...... and equally by our automatic presupposition that they do ...... even in real - life situations !!!! In some movies a scruffy - looking individual who has dealt with "Injuns" in the past is called upon to make his boss's will known to the native emissaries. After uttering a few barely audible grunts on his part the Indians nod their heads in understanding and often commend the interpreter , " You speakum good Kiowa " . This -um suffix would seem to be a universal ending which one may add to any English verb root .... and for all persons , both singular and plural , i.e. I speakum , thou speakum , he speakum , she speakum , we speakum , etc. Even Seinfeld got in on the act with his " We smokum peacepipe" episode ! One recent .... so to speak.... movie in which a native language was ín the spotlight is Dances With Wolves where Lakota ( a Siouan tongue ) was used rather extensively throughout with dignity and exactitude. Our own Canadian Oneida ( Iroquoian ) Graham Greene.... Kicking Bird ... , coached by Lakota elders , did an excellent job...... as did the white captive woman , Mary McDonnell.... and , of course , my hero , Floyd " Red Crow " Westerman .... himself a native Lakota in the role of " Ten Bears" !!
P.S. Should you ever find yourself in Northeastern Québec near any one of the nine Innu ( formerly Montagnais ) villages and wish to speak to the headman or ´headwoman here's what to say : Ishitâtshimîh nte tshûtshimâmîht ! Take me to your chief ! Or if addressing two or more natives at the portal please make the following grammatical adjustments. Ishitâtshimîkw nte tshûtshimâmwâwîht ! If accompanied by a friend and addressing only one Innu then you must ask , " Ishitâtshiminân nte tshûtshimâmîht " ! If accompanied by your wife , your mother-in-law and her sister then you might want to say , " Ishitâtshimîkut nte tshûtshimâmîht "........" Take them to your chief !......... all these expressions highly grammatical and legal !!..........no wonder the code talkers gave nightmares to both German and Japanese intelligence during World War II.!!!
P.S.2 If you leave this post with only the Seinfeld caper in mind , which is always fair game , then I have missed the boat here. What I wished to stress in an informal manner is the fact that the native tongues of the three Americas rate structurally among the most highly complicated and grammatically sophisticated languages found anywhere in the world. Their demise on the North American continent alone has been .....and still is ......an ongoing tragedy of epic proportions. They shrink , wither and die while we expand !
Firstly I simply wish to highlight the fact that today our Canadian loonie/looney or dollar ( coin ) reached parity with its American counterpart. The last time this happened was back in 1976.
Secondly I am posting a better picture of my sumac bower for my friend , Chun .... who mentioned she could not see it very well. As you can see the leafy overhang protected the geraniums from the frost last weekend whereas the dwarf dahlias and zinnias had reached the end of their tether... or growing season. The garden under the bower is triangular in shape .....each of the three angles being marked by stumps of dead paper birchtrees.
Thirdly.........yesterday I emptied quite a bit of water out of the pool as a first step towards winterization. However , today I woke up to a lovely hot day with lots of promise for the next week so I put the pump in the river and pumped fresh H2O back into the pool..... turned on the filter motor , added some remaining chlorine ... and Bingo !! we're back in business !! Had a great ... but short ... swim and hope to do so for a few more days ! This is the latest date in 30 years for this spa!!
Fourthly ........while discussing sumac and Fall leaf colour change in a recent post Cindy commented that she would like to see what a sumac colour change looked like . Fluff snapped the pics below which show sumacs at various stages of the process. The whole fringe area in the backyard is lined with sumacs so it should be rather "polychromatic"towards the end of the month.
PIRATE'S INSURANCE
After many years at sea, a pirate decided to retire. Since he had suffered injuries on the job, he thought that he should collect on his worker's compensation insurance. He had a wooden leg, a hook where his right hand should be and a patch over his right eye. The agent assured him that he would be compensated if the injuries were work related. "How did you get the wooden leg?" asked the agent. In a booming voice the pirate replied, "Me and me mates were on the high seas when the boom swang 'round and knocked me into the sea where a shark bit off me leg." The agent replied, "That is certainly work related. How did you lose your hand?" "Well matey, me and me mates were on the high seas when the boom swang 'round and knocked me into the sea where a shark bit off me hand," said the pirate. "That's also work related. Now how did you lose your eye?" asked the agent. The pirate replied, "Well matey, I was laying on the deck one balmy day catching some rays when this seagull flew by and dropped his duty right in me eye!" "What does that have to do with the loss of your eye?" said the agent. "It were the first day with me hook!"
P.S.Shivering the timbers of individual members is optional whereas group shivering of timbers is frowned upon and considered highly subversive.........and should there be a surplus by week's end .... then kindly revert the leftover amounts to Mona's account. It will serve as a base for next year's Pirate's Parade as we all proudly and wildly shiver our timbers in downtown Rimbo , Sweden ! !
Last Saturday evening I drove downtown to bid a sorrowful adieux to a good buddy and colleague , Rodrigue........... he in his casket and myself kneeling beside him. That very night a killer frost dealt a death blow to my beautiful begonias. Both Rod's lightning - bolt heart attack and the frost came unannounced ....... out of the blue....... with their lethal consequences.
P.S. Please do not feel obliged to comment this post as I simply wanted to insert Rod's passing into my personal journal so as to remember him now and then as I pursue other events and issues within its framework.
Requiescas in pace , Rod...............and you lovely begonias too !!
In her recent blogs my friend , Petra ( tender plant ) both declared and demonstrated her great love for trees........ and this got me thinking as I too hold them dear ..........from the pygmy - sized bonzais to the redwoods of the West Coast. In one post Petra artistically incorporated the pic of a tree which grew in front of her house which I recognized immediately as a sumac. She confirmed my identification. So today I thought I would write a few words about my own experience with and affection for our native Northeastern brand of sumac , rhus typhina , a photo of which appears in the title entry above.
We have had great success with our modest vegetable garden this Summer .... harvesting regularly since early August various species of tomatoes , zucchini and cukes. Each time we taste the juicy South Carolina Goldens ( yellow tomatoes ) we raise our fork to Dixxe. On the platter beside the fruit and veggies you may notice two spike or cone - shaped objects. They are the fruit of the sumac tree... as seen in title entry.... two others of which I have placed in a glass of lukewarm water to soak ....... resulting in the water turning a deep purple colour. Popular folkcuisine tells me to add sweetner and drink as " lemonade ".... so I followed the recipe. YUK ! 
