Mellow Yellow

I should likely start with saying that I've been negligent and not posting as frequently as I thought I would in the retirement phase of my life. I had such great intentions with a first post on Feb. 2015, and a few up until July 2016.  How did it get to be  October 11, 2018? Well, they say life goes fast, I say, wait until you hit retirement and hang on tight.

Mellow Yellow,   a song written by Donovan, silly lyrics but a catchy tune, one my mom liked and one I liked.

Deb's 5th? Birthday

However, yellow is the reason for my post. And why it has become so special to me. Yellow was a favorite color of my mom's. Being a great seamstress, she made many of my clothes. So, it's no surprise that when I was turning 5, she made me the most beautiful yellow dress. I wore it to Easter service on Sunday  and to the left, I'm wearing it for my 5th birthday party. I felt pretty special in that dress.  She even made the gorgeous hair band that had little yellow and white flowers all over it!

My mom has been gone almost 4 and a half years. It goes without saying, how much I miss her. There is life with mom and life after, a bit of a divider happens when you lose your mom, or anyone close for that matter.

Back to yellow...........she has let me know in so many ways that she has never really left, and that she's in a great place. Yellow................ Initially, I missed the clues but as they became more frequent I realized exactly what they meant. Yellow comes out of nowhere. One spring, I was golfing, my friend and I had to travel south of the county to even find a course that was open. There wasn't a flower to be found. As I was waiting for Ro to hit her ball, that inner nudge came at me and guided me left, slightly down the valley (opposite direction of where I was headed) and there in the valley, peaking through the cold soil were the beginnings of flowers.....Yellow.

Yellow.......My little grandson Van who I have been staying with at Bloorview Children's Rehab Hospital has a drawer full of shirts but each day I was there, the nurse chose to dress him in yellow. Those shirts weren't even on top. When I reminisce about my mother which happens often out of the blue, something yellow always appears. There is a telepathy between us, I need no convincing. There are so many special moments like these that I am thankful for. Perhaps, I'll speak of more in upcoming posts. Wait, did I say upcoming posts? Let's just hope, I can manage to write them a little more frequently than every 2 years.

💛💛💛💛Yellow💛💛💛💛 and just like that, wouldn't you know there would be a 'yellow heart emoji'!!! Seriously, did you ever notice any other color for these aside from red and pink? Another signal.

Skipper

Skipper with Deb in 1963

Those who have come to know me think of me as somebody without pets and some would think I'm not even a fan of pets. How wrong they are. No fault of theirs, after all why wouldn't they think that way?

I haven't had a pet for a very long time, 40 plus years at least. However, like most youngsters, I definitely longed for a dog in my younger years. During those years,  I was a city dweller, big city, hence, pets were out of the question. I lived with my mom (Carol Watson),  brother (Dan Waston) , grandma (Pub to me but Violet Newbury to others) and my mom's younger brother (Jerry Newbury)  in a series of smaller apartments in Toronto which wasn't going to be conducive to having a dog and somehow I knew this and accepted it rather well. I kept myself content with the pets of others.

Skipper with Dan in 1963

I got my fix.  I absolutely loved playing with the pets around me. Once, when we were living upstairs in a duplex in the city, the family downstairs owned a big beautiful dog. I was too young to remember the type, but it was blond, long haired and larger dog.  I would often sit at the top of the stairs making noises to see if the dog would come up the stairs. In no time, this dog became my best friend. The downstairs family often let my new friend visit me and of course my mom was more than happy to see me enjoying my new friendship. We only lived there for about a year but my attachment grew deep. It became a daily ritual.  Sometimes when the owners weren't home, my friend didn't come and I felt let down. Then there came a time when my friend stopped visiting altogether, each day I whistled and called him, soon I became worried.  Then the news came, my mom  told me that my pooch friend was killed by a car. The owners had a hard time telling mom and didn't know what to say to me.  Perhaps that is when mom knew that when her and Twist (Oliver Watson) finally married, a pet would be in order. I know now that, I equated pets with loss which always led to heart break and that would show up throughout my next few pets.

A year later, my mom married and we moved to Huntsville on Fairy Lake,  I got my first real dog. Skipper, who came from my grand-dad (Dan Watson) from Baysville. He was smart and easy to teach tricks to and my mom, brother and I taught him many. Unfortunately, just less than a year later, we had to return him. At the time, I was told he was part wolf, I often wondered about that. But my sister (Susan Watson) was soon born and perhaps, if it was part wolf, maybe my Skipper wouldn't be the best pet to have around a baby. I missed Skipper but eventually we replaced him with Fido, Fido also didn't last more than a year. We left Huntsville in order to allow for Twist to return to school in Oshawa as there wasn't anywhere in Huntsville where teachers could take university courses. The home in Oshawa didn't allow pets.

Susan with Fido

A few years later, we moved to Thornton where we got Rusty the most beautiful border collie in the world (to me), he managed to capture that long gone title of becoming my best friend. Somehow, Rusty seemed human to me, greeting me every morning, spending evenings with me after school and being my finest bud all weekend. Unfortunately, Rusty did have a habit of chasing cars and therefore we needed to be very careful about not letting him escape from our gated yard. During this era 60's early 70's most dogs weren't tied up and tended to have a free roam, nor did we collect their 'poops' back then. One day, while I was in grade 11, Rusty managed to get out, he always wanted to follow me to school as I left to catch the bus each morning into Barrie. That fateful morning, he did manage to get out, he was hit and died hours later despite the gracious efforts of owner (Gord Burke) of the flag store. I knew then, I couldn't have another dog. My heart and my head wouldn't be up for it. We had Rusty for 5 years, the longest I owned a pet and next to losing my grandmother, losing Rusty was pretty traumatic for me.

Although this sounds like a sad entry, it's not really intended to be that way.  I thoroughly enjoyed my time with pets, I continue to enjoy the pets of others but after that fateful day, the desire to have another pet left me forever, call it protection or insulation but the decision was right for me and to this day, I quite enjoy the pets of others and my lifestyle today wouldn't allow the type of devotion a pet needs and deserves.

(I did actually get a puppy for my daughter, it was also run over a month later.  We also discovered that both Tanya and Ryan had pet hair allergies.)

Ready....Set....Go.....Walking!

Sand Dollar Shell

Another goal I had in mind for when I retired was to get active. Those who adopt that crazy mindset "Living to Work" rather than "Working to Live" will understand. I didn't allow enough time for exercise and when I found the time, I was too tired and just couldn't make myself get into an active living style. Although I have a dreadmill (treadmill) and do a mile or two here and there, it wasn't enough and I knew it. And....to top it off, there are just certain things I'm good at, procrastination when it comes to exercise just happens to be one of them, more so as I got older.

Brenda, Pam, Sue, Kay Myrtle Beach Walkers

Hence, when I got to Myrtle this February, I was more than eager to accept the offer of a few ladies here at the condo to walk with them daily at 8 AM each morning. When the tide is low, we walk along the beach and when the tide is high, we walk along the sidewalk on Ocean Blvd. It works out to be just over 3 miles a day at a pretty good clip. They say it takes 21 days to create the habit and I'm half way there!

Thank you Brenda, Pam, Pat, Kay! Not only that, I've learned a lot from you all about the various trees and shells in Myrtle as well. A great little collection is underway for Charlie. And, as I type this entry, I have a sand-dollar soaking in a bit of bleach to add to the ever growing collection.

Fred It Is! No Longer a Mystery

Another project I decided to take on in retirement was to sort, organize and digitize many of my old photographs. Not to mention the box of photos I inherited  from my mother who died 2 years ago this May. In her box, were many old negatives and as I held some of them up to the light, I soon realized that I had never before laid eyes on some of those photos. I became very intrigued and after a few hours, I gathered up about 100 negatives and brought them down to Myrtle Beach with me. I knew I'd enjoy a working on them while 'snowbirding'.

I found a great shop in Myrtle that digitizes negatives. A week later, my digitized treasures were ready. When I went to pick them up, the fellow at the shop said he quite enjoyed seeing my childhood. He mentioned that the negatives were quite good to work with and for the time period (1950s for the most part) they were very good. I mentioned that my mom was an avid photographer from when she was a teen and had a great Kodak-Chrome camera with the big dish like flash. He said, indeed, it was a great camera for the time. I remember well how my mom treasured that camera.

The Mystery

On to the reason for this post. Now you know why I called this site 'ramblings'!  As I looked at this photograph, I immediately knew Pub (my grandmother Violet, my mom's mom) but I had no idea who was in the photo with her. Her husband died shortly after my mom was born and this couldn't possibly be a brother. Who was this man she seemed to be so fond of?  I lived with Pub for a few years and certainly don't remember seeing him. I asked a couple of cousins, nobody seemed to know. We think that she was about 56 years old give or take a year in this photograph. That night, I went to bed wondering, thinking and reflecting and out of nowhere, or so it seemed, that inner voice came to me again with the words Fred.  In my mind I was asking my mom who it was........Fred, it's Fred Debbie.  Who's Fred?

Imagine my astonishment when the next morning, I received an email from Jerry Newbury, my mother's younger brother with these words :

"The person with my mom was an old long time boyfriend when she lived in Windsor Ont.  They were friends for many years until Carol, Mom and myself moved in together in Toronto.  His name was Fred Gardner and he worked at Syroco as a fitter in heavy industry.  He was a good person kind and generous.  He died after our move to Toronto."

I already knew that didn't I? Fred, said the voice. Who's voice?

Your First Memory

Deb to the left, Dan in the High Chair. My Gramma to the
Back Right (Carol's Mom)

When was your first memory? Tough question isn't it? Think about it, it's not that easy to answer initially.

My mom always thought I had a good memory and when I used to describe the houses that we lived in when I was quite young, she would wonder how I could possibly remember, as I would have only been two or three years old. We moved a lotand by the time I reached five years old, we had already moved about 4 times and I did remember each of those homes.

So why this photo?

My first memory is that of me pushing my dolls around in the stroller. I remember wanting a stroller for my dolls in the worst of ways. Well, here's the stroller and I'm about 2, I named my doll 'Edna' thinking it was the most beautiful name for a girl in the world.

Looking at this picture now, it's from the 50's, my grandmother would have been 57 and my brother about one, I was two. Smoking was the norm back then and I only ever remember my gramma, whom I called Pub as a smoker - I even remember the brand 'DuMaurier'.

Six years after this photo was taken, my Gramma died of a massive heart attack. In those times, children weren't really told about death. I wasn't really sure what happened to her but I knew she was gone and I knew I missed her lots. I was very close to my gramma, I felt her spirit for many, many years later and well into adulthood. More on that in future ramblings.

The Voice Within

This is where I might lose a few of you. But then again, who's this blog for?

From as far back as I can remember, I have had images of ballet cross my mind. At a very young age, around three,  I believed I was a ballerina. I used to tell my friends that when I lived before, I was a ballet dancer.  I was most certain of it, so much so, that I even began to show my friends, some ballet moves and when we played, we practiced our moves. Like I knew! I had never watched ballet or taken a lesson!  One day, one of their mothers called to find out where I took lessons as she would like to start her daughter.

BUSTED!

Who ever that roommate in my brain was, did seem to have a big impact on me. I've never taken ballet, never watched ballet on our black and white television and never even went to a ballet performance until I was well into my forties.

There were many nights  I would awake from a dead sleep only to find myself in a ballet pose! Although most were in bed, some of them were on the floor beside my bed! This happened repeatedly - still does on a rare occasion!  Once, my ex  asked what I was doing. Was I about to expose my inner craziness? I think not. I honestly can't actually count how many times, I woke myself up, engaged in a ballet pose. What does it all mean? Why the immense attraction?  Why am I so drawn to ballet? Why did I seem to know about ballet? Thank goodness I'm not the obsessive type, or I'd own every ballet trinket ever invented!

Through out the years, I did find myself gravitating to photos, statues and prints showing the absolute grace of ballet. Not the frilly, girly types, more of the abstract form. I have a few Degas like fake mask figurines, I read Painted Ladies and I have a few Degas prints. I keep it quiet for the most part. But those who know me, sense my inner pleasure of the beautiful art of ballet.

And, to my daughter, if you didn't enjoy those years of ballet lessons, you now know why it was so important for me to make sure you had the opportunity to take ballet even though you weren't a magnet to it.

On that note......or graceful step,  Steve Job's quote comes to mind: “Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice." Not that I've quite figured out the reason for my attraction driven by that inner voice,  but I have accepted it as something important for what ever reason.

It's Not What I Have, It's Who I Have

Who comes first? Why my kids of course. This photo was taken in 2015 and you guessed it, my kids. Tanya (Sullivan) and Ryan (Russell).

I know most parents think they've got the best kids, however, fact is, I do! Hands down!! AND, more than anything else, I only want happiness for them. I'm  over the top proud of them for just being who they are. After all, they're pretty good at it.

What makes a mom proud? Happy kids doing the right thing. They defend me, they support me, they 'get' me, they don't wanna let me down and truth is, they never do!

I really hope they always figure out the secret that the key to happiness is not chasing it but being it. So far, they're pretty good at it. See why I'm so proud???!!!

Not to mention that they're generous, they're grateful, they challenge themselves AND, they smile lots. And that's happiness!