But Dad, I’m not ready for you to go…

On Thursday, I lost my father to a tragic farm accident. We are preparing for the funeral on Thursday, and trying to understand the myriad of things my father did to operate the farm. I remember when, in 1995, my grandfather passed away, my dad lamenting that he still had so much he needed to talk to Grandpa about. So much he still needed to ask and learn. I am starting to understand how he felt.

Here is a podcast of CBC Saskatchewan’s Coverage.

Father’s Day #1

Yesterday was my first Father’s Day as a father. It started with a sweet suprise, as Norah decided to sleep in until 8:30. The extra hour and a half plus of sleep was greatly appreciated by both Mommy and Daddy. After I showered and Norah had some breakfast, as per B’s instructions, I took Norah out to run some errands. Because it was raining, we skipped the stroller, and filled the Vibe with gas, made our way to Canadian Tire for some Borax to kill ants, and to Safeway for some cream to kill the bitterness of black coffee. This took about 45 minutes, and I called B to make sure it was alright that I come home. She said it was.

When I got home I immediately smelled bacon and coffee. Is there a better smell? I was told to stay out of the kitchen, and Norah and I played in the living room while breakfast was put on the table. A few minutes later, B asked if I was going to drink my coffee, and I noticed that there was a steaming cup waiting for me at the table. I tossed in some of the newly purchased cream and sipped as Norah jumped in her jumper. The coffee was strong and delicious.

Once breakfast was on the table, B called me from the living room and we put Norah in her chair while we ate. She watched and gurgled and cooed. I gulped and chewed and licked my lips. B had prepared french toast (my favourite) and bacon (my favourite). Just so that we didn’t totally clog our arteries, she also had berries and yogurt which we both ate first (and quickly) before tucking in to the real meal.

In between bites, B told me to open my gift, and I picked up the card and present on the table. The card was from Norah (I could tell by the developing penmanship – her y was backwards) and the present was a book – “My Love Will Be With You” – I read the book, which was very sweet and has beautiful drawings, teared up a bit, and gave my two lovely ladies a hug and kiss. We finished eating and B said she would clean everything up so Norah and I went back to the living room and I read her some books. (FYI, this means I held a book in front of her that she tried to eat while I recited it from memory while trying to minimize water damage to the book.)

Before taking Norah to the living room, I put the newly-purchased cream in the fridge. B was in the bathroom, and I wanted to put it away so it wouldn’t get too warm. However, when I went to the fridge, I noticed something was out of place on the counter. Instead of seeing (and silently cursing) our white, 12-cup coffee maker that leaks when you brew coffee, I saw a brand-spanking new Keurig Coffee Maker. I have been coveting a new, non-leaking, coffee maker for some time, but every time I brought it up, Brenda would poo-poo the suggestion, arguing that ours is fine, and that we shouldn’t spend the money on a new one. Turns out this was all a clever ruse to prevent me from ruining my present!

However, I now had a problem. B hadn’t seen my inital reaction of shock and joy when I saw the maker — she was out of the room. Not sure what to do, I pretended I didn’t see the maker. An hour later, when I was sweeping the floor and asked B to dump the dustpan so as to not go into the kitchen, she caught me in a ruse of my own. “You saw it!” she said, and I had to admit that I had. I am a terrible faker. She was a bit miffed that she didn’t get to see my reaction, and a bit miffed that I pretended not to see it. I told her that it didn’t matter because it was an awesome surprise, no matter when I was surprised.

Now, though the Keurig is the Mercedes of coffee makers (our old maker was the Dodge Neon of coffee makers) I was concerned that it was wasteful. The premise is that you put in a K-Cup (a small plastic cup with ground coffee beans in it) and hot water (at exactly 192 degrees Fahrenheit) is injected through the cup and into your waiting mug below. The coffee is always hot and always fresh. This saves having your maker on all day, as you work your way through the 10 cups in the pot. However, the plastic waste that comes with using the Keurig cannot be ignored. Though the store B bought the Keurig at will take in the old K-cups and recycle them, it all still seems rather wasteful to me. The cups wouldn’t need to be recycled if they weren’t used! I didn’t bring this up to B, not wanting to take the shine off of the thoughtful gift, but she must have already had the conversation in her head, because she informed me that we were on the waiting list for the My-K-Cup, a reusable filter that lets you brew whatever coffee you want in the Keurig. Score!

The rest of the day was lovely as well, as Norah decided to have two long naps instead of her usual 4 short ones, and we got some time to visit with each other and prepare for our trip to see my mom in Hawaii. We leave Saturday morning for two weeks, and can’t wait. It will be Norah’s first trip out of Saskatchewan and her first trip to Grandma Honey and Papa Mike’s on Big Island. Though we’ve traveled all through Southeast Asia when we lived in Cambodia, we’ve never done it with a 5 month old baby. I’m sure it will be a new adventure — I’ll keep you posted!

http://montanamusclecars.com/images/Inventory/82Mercedes300D.jpg

The end…

Today was our last day with students, bringing to a close my 8th year of teaching. Sure, there is next week, which will be filled with cleaning, sorting, and planning for fall, but today was the last day with students around. And since they’re the reason I’m here, I count today as the last day. While summer is exciting for me as a teacher, it isn’t always for my students. For 180 days, they have known that the school is open for them if they choose to come. For 180 days, they have known that when they arrive, a teacher will greet them. For 180 days, they have known what to expect – when the bells will ring, where they will be, what they will do.

Then, all of a sudden, on a day in a month so chosen because 90 years ago it lined up best with the agricultural growing year, they know they can’t go to school. They know that the doors will be locked. For two months. For the students who the school represents the only stability in their lives this is devastating. This afternoon, I stopped to talk with a young man in grade 9 who was not in his afternoon class, but was sitting up on a window ledge looking glum. I asked him if he was excited for summer, and he responded immediately that he was. Then, after a few moments, he reconsidered, and admitted he wasn’t. I wished I could do something. I wished I could make his living arrangements more stable, his summer pass quickly and safely. But I couldn’t. There was nothing I could do. So, I told him I was teaching a lot of grade 10 next year, and wanted him in my English and Drama classes, and he smiled a bit. But in the end, I walk away to my summer of leisure and luxury, and he returns to his life of instability. In the USA right now there is a movement in favour of year-round schooling. While the movement heralds the increases in test scores that result, I think there may be some additional, more meaningful effects…

Photojournalism Project

Check out this article in today’s Leader Post — Photo project looks at life in North Central Regina

What the story fails to mention is all of the hard work of the staff at our school on this project! Our art teacher and one of our English teachers created an entire integrated project that taught the students about photography and journalism while meeting all of the outcomes for ELA A30 (Canadian Voices) and Visual Art 30. This is no small feat! So hats off to you, the unmentioned heroes of the project.

Colourblind, yes, but fashion-blind too?

It’s true, I am colourblind. However, I am not fashion-blind as well. Hence, the sad reality is that, the other morning when Norah woke early and I got her ready for the day while her mommy caught a few extra winks of sleep, I purposefully dressed her like a probably-drunk-retired-elderly-man-residing-in-a-trailer-park-in-Arizona. Or Florida. The shoes were the closest footwear we had to sandals. What do you think?

A New Table Saw for Teaching

I have a pretty good collection of power tools amassed over the last 12 years. When I took over farming my grandfather’s land at 16, I used my father’s tools. At 18, I bought a Craftsman 14.4V Cordless Drill and thus it began. While I was farming, tools were a tax write-off, and that meant plenty of new purchases. By 2002 I finished University, and wasn’t farming any more. My job teaching allowed me to purchase my (our) first home, an 80s bi-level in the northwest end of our city. With this change in circumstance came a whole new category of tool needs. I watched Canadian Tire and Sears fliers, and bought on-sale tools whenever I could. One such purchase was a Mastercraft 13amp 10” Table Saw.

This saw did some decent work for me. On the first house, together we installed 500 sq. feet of laminate flooring, and did some rough construction. In the new house, the saw and I installed 700 square feet of bamboo but near the end of the installation, it became apparent that the bamboo was too tough a match for the motor. When powering down the saw, the motor started making a horrible screeching noise. I knew it was just a matter of time before the saw gave up the ghost. I poked around, and the motor is directly attached to the saw blade, which is built right into the table. The thought of pulling the saw apart to get at the motor, and then trying to find new bearings made me cringe. I felt like it would be throwing good money and time after bad.

So, I did what ever I do when dissatisfied with a Canadian Tire product — I called to see about returning it. I was told there is a 3 year warranty on the saw. I checked online, and the same saw is still stocked. I informed the customer service attendant that I didn’t have my receipt. (This was because I bought the saw 7 years ago, but I didn’t mention that part.) She told me this wasn’t a problem, but I would receive store credit. Seeing as I spend a chunk of money at Canadian Tire every month, I decided this wasn’t a bad option at all. Having returned my saw, the next task was to find a replacement. I decided not to buy new – I wanted a saw from back when they made things to last. Or at least made things to be repaired when they broke.

I watched the local craigslist-esque site, and came across an ad for an old saw with a cabinet. I inquired about the saw, and got the following response:

“I promise you, won’t be disappointed with this one.  It belonged to my father-in-law, who was head over all the shops at the Local Technical School. It cuts exact angles, horizontally and vertically and is strong, solid and dependable just like he always was. HP: 1/2 ; Brand:  Atlas.”

This seemed to be an emotionally (and electrically) charged saw. And it turned out to be. I took our communally owned truck to pick up the saw, and the elderly man selling the saw told me all about all the things he made with the saw, and what a great man his father-in-law was. He sadly said that the saw was the only thing he received when his father-in-law passed on. After we loaded the saw in the truck, it started to spit and he quickly dug out a tarp to cover the saw. It had never seen a drop of rain. The transaction ended with an exchange of $95 (his asking price) and a hug (free, and a bit awkward but I think he appreciated it). I assured him the saw was going to a good home. Here is how it looked before it left his garage:

When I got home, I decided to find out a little bit more about the saw. It was made in St. Thomas, Ontario, by Atlas, the Canadian subsidiary of the Atlas Press Company (which purchased Clausing Lathe in the 1950s, and now exists as Clausing Industrial).

Here’s the badge from the saw:

A bit more digging, and I found that there are a few of these saws kicking around on an Old Woodworking Machines site:

So far I’ve only cut two small pieces of composite decking with the saw, but it has done a great job. So quiet compared to my previous saw! They just don’t make them like they used to. I’ll do my best to provide an adequate home for it. I know of two old men (one deceased and one not) who would appreciate it…

Edit: I think the saw in this catalogue (scroll down to the 3102 model) is pretty close to my saw, putting it in the 50s…the model # isn’t exact, but the fence is the same…so it much be close.

Scrabbleogue

B: Since we’re Canadian, can we use French words?

Teaching: What is this, English Scrabble or French Scrabble?

B: But Canada has two official languages.

Teaching: Are we playing French-Canadian Scrabble or English-Canadian Scrabble?

B: Just Canadian Scrabble. Why do you have to be so divisive?

Teaching: Why do you only champion the cause of the underdog when you stand to benefit?

B: Good point.

………………………………

B: I should ask people how to spell words I totally don’t have the letters for.

Teaching: Why?

B: To intimidate them, stupid.

………………………………

B: How do you spell ignatious?

Teaching: That isn’t even a word.

B: Yes it is.

Teaching: No, it isn’t.

B: Isn’t it a kind of rock?

Teaching: No.

B: What kind of rock am I thinking of?

Teaching: I think you mean Igneous.

B: I’m not a science teacher, damn it!

Teaching: I’m so intimidated I am not sure I’ll be able to finish the game.

Proud Daddy Pics of Norah

Here are some pics of Norah at 4 to 4 and a half months of age. Enjoy!

Can you believe they let me jump in this thing? It can’t be safe! No wonder I love it so much.

What are you doing in my jungle?

The neck is my favourite part of the giraffe. Bony, yes, but tasty nonetheless.

See any resemblance?

I know, pink, right? How stereotypical.