In town without my car !

Tuesday, 22 september was "In town without my car !" day , 2009 edition.

On that day, my mother, who is 87 years old, went downtown for an very important appointment on University street. But she has not heard of that event. You know, even if she would have heard the news, she would not have understood the real meaning of this event "In town without my car !".

She has difficulty to walk and she must use the Paratransit service. They came to get her on time for her appointment but they were not there when she wanted to return at the noon hour because streets were closed. Well, it seems to me that someone of paratransit services could have advised her when she took her appointments, 3 days before.

There was no question that she takes the subway. She had to go outside the perimeter and try to find a taxi but this was very hard for her, she felt so much disoriented and besides that, she had problems to walk. From downtown to her apartment in the west, had cost her $40.00 of taxi. This is a lot of money for her.

"The main idea behind this campaign is to encourage the use of alternative forms of transport and travel and to raise awareness within the community of what is at stake with regards to long term mobility in towns and the risks connected with pollution."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In_town,_without_my_car!

Does she care? my mother!

What is the idea of closing an entire perimeter to traffic. Does it really reduce traffic? Perhaps, in this perimeter, but what about all outside? My opinion is that it's even worse, because a car will have to make several turns around the perimeter to try to find a parking space becoming more scarce.

And turn the engine turns to go around, and oops! it is a oneway street oops! You have returned to your starting point, we'll try the other side!

Many people will comply, those who can travel with the Metro or have an easy route. But those who have no choice to take the car, consultants, delivery vehicles, persons with disabilities, is there an alternative for them? My mother could not take a "biki". It should also be a good idea to provide three-wheel bycicle Taxi like in Beijing.

The day without cars, it's just smoke and mirrors. If we really want to fight against air pollution and also improve the quality of city life, we should have make a free day of public transport for everybody. City administrators would be very surprised with the results, but maybe it's too simple.

Gelisa

Letter of September 23, 2009 - The baptism

Letter of September 23, 2009

Dear friend,

I wanted to write you this letter quickly but It took me so long to finish it. I had no time since the beginning of September. Henry and I have had to travel several times at my son's place in north and prepare ourselves for the baptism of Benoit. Our religious beliefs are not really warm but we have still agreed to be godparents. We needed to provide a confirmation certificate, though it is not necessary to be married. I could not remember which parish I was registered, I had to call several places and most offices are open only a few hours during the week, so I had to make my application by mail and they have asked me to pay in advance. These people are eager to pass the quest but when you need their service, the door is locked. My dear Henry, had to call his parish in Gaspesia and they sent the certificate by mail.

At the catechesis meetings, I had the opportunity to better know Maryse. She appears to me as a woman very resolute and determined. She expressed her desire for marriage with Matthew, and she would also want him to adopt her eldest son. I may be wrong, but I feel much eagerness on his part and I do not find very affectionate. At first, I was worried but I finally calmed myself down. My son is no longer a baby after all and there must be something nice between them two to engage together in doing a family. My son took several months to consider before going live with them. Yes, them!. He now lives with Maryse, her kid and also with Maryse's mother, Mireille. And if he was wrong? He knows I'm always there for him, but would he confide to me if something was going wrong?

My son has now resumed contact with his father, Serge. Again, it's another shock to learn he's seeing his father, finally, after twenty-seven, he shows some interest in his only son and he also learns he will be grandpa. The handsome Serge ...... I had erased him from my life. During all these years, he did not showed interest in Mathieu, he has never paid pension, he was seeing him only at the new year partys, and when Serge's mother died, no more news. You know, dear reader, all this family was in discord and their good mother could managed to unite them. When Matthew was in his twenties, he had found his father but he quickly stopped to visit him. I had asked him about this and he only said he would not see his father any more. I have no idea of what happened.

So, after all these years, I saw the handsome Serge, with his wife. Yes, he got married recently, and he regretted not having invited Matthew to his wedding. Age has worked on him and he was not as handsome as before. He was happy to see my family, he knows them all, my mother, who loved him so much, my sister Francoise and her husband, Lucien, also Madeleine. At that time, I was having a nice life with Serge, there were ups and downs, like everybody, it was normal. I was pregnant with Matthew when my sister Francoise got married to Lucien and they were having an apartment in our neighborhood. We invited them often to dinner and we spent happy evenings with them. Serge had a good salary, enough so that I do not work, and I was very proud of us, of our home. He even bought a piano for me.

And everything has plummeted, deteriorated, broke, fell to pieces, mixed with tears and regrets. Drugs, drinking, jealousy, and violence have destroyed my blond angel. I had to leave, escorted by police, and I have entered the darkest years of my life. Matthew was only two and a half years when I left, I had no job, no furniture, I could even not take my piano. We were not married and everything was in his name. Shortly after I left, another woman had taken my place. I had no desire to fight and I decided to start from scratch. Nobody could understand, my sister Francoise has moved away from me and my mother was unable to help me, following the death of father. When I saw Serge at the church, memories of violence and tears were back in my memory, but I have closed that door in my mind. I did not want these memories come back right away, we must celebrate the baptism before all things.

Benoît wore a beautiful gown baptism. It looked like a little angel, you know, everybody wanted to hold him and he liked it. We was looking at us seriously, with his big blue eyes and he then bestowed his very best smile. I think he took this jovial side from his mother. He is so adorable, he has not cried once, and that, he took it from my son Matthew.

On the left, Mathieu in his christening gown. Right, Benoit in his christening gown

This event was very importance to parents. It gave to the grandparents of both sides the opportunity to meet together, those separated by life and new spouses. The atmosphere was almost like a wedding, while the two families met for the first time. They had reserved tables at the restaurant to celebrate the event with joy and I must say that it was a success. Mathieu was well dressed for the occasion and I was seeing him in tie and coat for the first time. I would say that Maryse was very proud of her small world, everyone was very handsome.

My sister Frances and her husband Lucien were sitting with Serge and his wife, they were all happy about see each other and had much to tell. So much the better because, I am telling you, it is not me who would have fueled the conversation. I could not hide my surprise to see him married and happy. Well, good for them, but many questions remain unanswered. Does my Mathieu will have the rightful place alongside his father. I do not really believe in it.

I am telling you, my son is a real mother hen, he looks after Benoit, he feeds him, changes the diapers. He is so happy with his paternity and Martin, the eldest son of Maryse cared deeply about Mathieu. He also deals with this child as if he were his own son. After the meal, and gifts, we were anyway very happy to go back our home, there is more than an hour to drive from north up to home. We had left Charlie alone and at our arrival, he urgently need to do his evening walk.

I hope I did not bothered to much, I needed to express my ups and down of this memorable day and I will conclude my letter with these words of Honoré de Balzac: " I can forgive, but I cannot forget ".

I'll write again soon with more news about my volunteer work, memories and I would also like to introduce you Henry, who makes me so happy.

Kisses and see you soon, Thou who goes on my pages.

Gelisa

WEREWOLFS

image de bribriange49

« Becomes a werewolf who has failed in his religious duties, for example, neglected its Easter and will be released when an injury will make him lose a few drops of blood.»

Pamphile Lemay

A 18th century engraving depicting a werewolf attack Source= "The Werewolf Delusion" by Ian Woodward

This quote from my ancestor, Pamphile Lemay is taking me back in my youth when I spent my summer vacation on the farm with my grandparents.

They had not yet TV and evenings passed slowly between the rosary and sleep. After the dishes washing, my grandmother was preparing the breakfast table in the summer kitchen and my aunts were going to the stable to lend a hand before the rosary. Religion was taking an important place in the lives of farmers and all the stories and tales were revolving around God and Devil.

All were gathered for evening prayers and as soon as the radio station had recited the last prayer, everyone took his favorite seat. My aunts were knitting in the dim light of an electric bulb hanging at a wire and my uncles were generously packing their smoking pipes before beginning their usual mockery. The conversation was quickly turning to strange and scaring stories, to make us stay on the right track.

My grandfather was often telling to who would listen, the following story of Wenceslas Eugene Dick. A little research allowed me to believe it was published in 1895 in a book entitled "Pour la patrie".

Here is the story:
John Plante was living in an old mill located away on the edge of Argentenay point at Orleans Island. During the day his younger brother, Thomas, was helping at the mill with the heavy work, but at night John Plante was sleeping alone on the second floor. The bugger was not scared, he even was violent when he was drunk, which was happening six days out of eight. Someone, if seeing him in this state, was better to run away because he was able to attack you wildly with his scythe.

One afternoon, while John Plante had drank a little too much, a beggar came to the mill and asked for charity in the name of God.
– Charity! kind of beggars! ... Wait, I'll tell ya what to do with my charity! shouted John, who ran to the poor man to give him a big kick in the ass. The beggar turned and stared at the miller with a pair of eyes that shooted him. Then he went away.

On the road at the foot of the hill, he met Thomas, who arrived with a load of grain.
– The charity, on behalf of God? ... he asked politely, taking off his old hat.
– Go to hell! I have no time! Thomas replied harshly, which has started to whip his old horse.
Then the beggar, without a word, stretched out his hand toward the mill and disappeared into the woods. Suddently, the mill stopped. .
John shouted a blasphemy and went to see what there was. He inspected carefully all the gear wheels, belts and all the paraphernalia, he couldn't find nothing, and the water was not lacking either.
He called his brother and began to lecture him harshly because he thought there was stones in his oats. After they examining the grinder parts together, they saw that everything was correct and that the mill should work.
– It is the beggars I saw a while ago that has cast a spell, "said Thomas.
– Stupid! Well, you'll see where I put them, the spells, John said, giving one of his big kick in the ass of his brother.

Poor Thomas, the blow was so hard that he fell ten feet away. When he rose, blue with rage, he rushed to John. But the miller, took his wrists and stopped him short.
– Stop there, brother! he said, nobody raise his hand on John Plante, or he's dead.
Thomas saw that he could not have the last word. He picked up his hat. Then he left, shaking his fist at his brother and said in a threatening tone:
– When you see me !

John then was alone for the rest of the afternoon trying to make his mill to work. But the big wheel was making one turn, then, bang! It stopped short.
– Let's put this off until tomorrow. John Plante finally said. In the meantime, he took a shot of white rhum since nothing else to do.
And our man, his rhum bottle on the table, was drinking glass after glasses, expecting nothing, getting drunk as an ass. At midnight, he then thought to go to bed.

It's easy to get on the 1st floor when one is fasting, but quite a chalenge when your legs are like the rag. Once up the stairs, and after several lurches without finding his bed, he got angry and threw himself to life or to the death in the staircase door, ajar.

John rolled down to the bottom, like a large package, and he found himself outside. Impossible to get back so he decided to spend the night at the edge of the woods on the hard ground as berth. Even drunk, John could not sleep and began to count the stars.

In the early hours of the night a strong wind swept into the stairwell and extinguished the candle remained lit.

– Thank you, wind, having blown out my candle, "said John Plante, you're more conservative than me. And he began to chuckle. But it did not last long, the light reappeared after a few minutes.
For an hour, the light moved from one window to another, as if she floated alone. At the same time, there were sounds of chains and groaning inside the mill. It was to make your hair stand on end. Then, after the fuss, wisps of flames, blue, green, red, started dancing on the roof gables. There are even some that came to touch John's face so that he smelt nasty burning hair.

Finally, make matters worse, a large red-haired dog, prowling on the edge of the wood, was standing besides the miller and was fixing him with his two big red eyes like burning coals. John Plante had the shivers and hair stiff as a floor brush. He tried to get up several times and run to the village but terror as well as drunkenness froze him there. It was only at dawn that all the horrors of that terrible night had disappeared.

John found back his courage and laughed at what he saw. And as soon as he drank two or three good lenses of rhum, he became as pugnacious as before and began to defy all the ghosts and werewolves of the island to come and face.

But not having managed to start the mill, he saw the becoming evening with some fear. Even if he thought he had dreamed the night before, his mind was not realy quiet but pride kept him from going to the village. He bravely went to bed, but not without closing all doors and windows of the mill. John hoped to finally be able to count on a good night and nothing realy happens until midnight.

At the stroke of midnight, the noise began again. Bang! A quick punch over here, boom! A quick kick through there, and lamentations and groans and sounds of chains! Then whispers and murmurs strange that was crossing into his room, enough to die of fright !

John got angry very hard. He caught his big scythe, and swearing like a demon, he looked in every room of the mill and also in the attic but, curiously, when he arrived in a place, the noise stopped there to take in another room. Tired of hunting ghosts, John Plante returned to his bed and hid under his blankets while shivering with fear and fever for the rest of the night. And it happened like that for the whole week.

The evening of the eighth day, who happened to be the day of All Saints, John had missed church, preferring to spend his time drinking. The poor man was feeling very bad. His eyes puffy and brilliant of fever was telling enough about the horrible week that he had passed. Outside, the wind whipped the windows with a little rain, which lasted all day. When night went up, black as ink, John was leaning on the table, watching his pitcher with a crazed look.

It was dark in the room. When the clock struck eleven, John Plante wanted to get up to go to bed to hide. But pride kept him on his chair.
– It will not say I let myself do, Me, I do not fear... No, no, I'm afraid of nothing! he said in a stern voice.
And he poured a gulp of rhum with an air of defiance. When the clock struck slowly stroke of midnight, John did not move. He looked around, eyes wide as eye. At last a gust of wind opened the door that was firmly closed and the big red dog appeared in the frame. He sat on his haunches near the doorway and stared at John Plante with his red eyes, and for five long minutes the miller and the dog looked at each other, one filled with fear and straight hair on head and the other calm and menacing.

In the end, John, to see better, got up and tried to snuff the candle, but the candle went out under his fingers. He looked quickly for matches that had disappeared. So he was really afraid and began to recede in the direction of his bed, watching the animal who did not move.

Then, the dog got up slowly and began to browse to and fro in the room while approaching the bed. His eyes were bright as embers, and he kept them fixed on the miller. When he was within walking distance of John Plante, he caught his scythe, which was still hanging on his headboard.

He knocked furiously the animal and soon there came a strange thing. The mill started to work again and in a sudden glow, Thomas Plante, his brother, appeared with a lighted match in his fingers. The big dog had disappeared!

Without saying anything, Thomas lit the candle, and seeing his brother who was still holding his scythe :
– Eh! Woh! he said, what are you doing there in the dark, with your scythe? Have you gone mad ?
John, looking lost, did not answer. He watched his brother, who was missing an ear.
– Who did this to you? he asked feebly.
– Bah! Thou know! said Thomas, who picked up the ground a piece of the dog's ear, still bleeding. John Plante laughed mournfully. He was crazy !

The End

Some links on werewolf
The Werewolf Page

Wikipedia

The Hunters Moon

Loups Garou,Légende du Québec

Werewolf story (Taylor, Mississippi)

MY DOG CHARLIE

Here are several pictures of my dog Charlie.

Angrignon Park - Charlie is 2 years old

Charlie on the day he arrived home (10 months)

Charlie watches television with his best friend
(Comming back from grooming)

Charlie loves the park

His first Christmas with us

Ready for the rainy days of autumn

Charlie plays dead
( Here you can see very well the silky hairs)

FOR MORE ON CHARLIE .... FOLLOW THIS LINK

Exonerating, Forgiveness and Letting go...

A small text, that I took at a friend so, thank you friend. I have done the translation for you, this could be better but I did my best. Your corrections are very welcome.

"Exonerating, Forgiveness and Letting go..."

• Exonerate : To Feel guilty is not only clinging to the past, but also hang in this because of a past event. And this blockage can range from minor discomfort to depression.

• Two main reasons for guilt : This feeling can be inculcate in early childhood and persist into adulthood. The adult can blame itself because it violates the values that he claims to endorse.
In all cases, guilt arises from the consciousness of having transgressed the moral codes or social.

It has many consequences: unconsciously punish themselves, reduces our self-confidence, undermines success, love, etc... Hence the importance of get rid of it.

• Forgiveness : Living with others can cause all sorts of injuries resulting frustrations, disappointments, troubles, sorrows, heartaches, betrayals, etc...
Others means the persons (family, husband's family, friends, neighbors, boss, colleagues, etc.. ...) and also institutions (medical system, religion, government, tax, etc ....)
There are so many opportunities to blame someone and develop a grudge, but this grudge is an emotional link, stonger than steel, that strongly ties you to that person.

When you do not forgive, you live in resentment, you cling yourself to the past, to the revenge ... It is a waste of time and energy in useless ruminations on the past.

Living in sorrow requires a lot of energy and maintains a constant stress.

Resentment can also create an attitude of paranoid defense that can attract attacks rightly feared. It is responsible for many psychosomatic diseases.

Refusing to forgive is now tarnishing your present with the unnecessary rancor and prevents you to live happily.

As for revenge, the satisfaction that you could get from it is very short. And it does not offset the damage that could occur in your relationships. Not only revenge triggers vicious circle of violence, but in addition it does nothing to heal the wounds of the injured, on the contrary, it exacerbates it.

→ Forgiveness (Forgiveness (including self-forgiveness), is "cure" is lighten, is set you free.

• Letting go : The day where we completely let go that might offend us, the day where we are no more "offensive", where we accept all the energies that we are reflected or sent, we do not even have to forgive.

The river of life can then flow freely
without obstacles ...

Source: http://patrick.leger24.free.fr/page/pardonner.html

Letter of September 4, 2009 - My Volunteering

Letter of September 4, 2009

Dear friend!

Well, there it is! I can announce it to you now. I joined the group of volunteers from the hospital. You know, those people who donate their time and raise funds for the activities of residents of the hospital. The average age of this group of volunteers is around 75 years and I confess that this is not the attractiveness that brought me there.

Behind this decision there is a story I would like to share with you. To start you knew that mom has always played music, often with groups. She accompanied the entertainers and choirs at festivals and homes for elders. Mom had to give up her activities one by one to keep only the one of the Association of Volunteers. She now plays at the organ and she accompany the choir at the religious office, on Saturdays and Wednesdays. This activity allows her to go out twice a week.

And now mom has mobility problems, she must walk with a cane, which makes her more irritable and she also began to panic: "There is no question that I leave this activity," she said "I'm not senile yet, you know! I am just having trouble walking. The day I will no longer go play music in the chapel of the hospital is that I'm in one of it's beds. "

Have you ever came at home? You would have found the house very big, with its 7 rooms and also the basement to maintain. But Mom is quite resourceful and has managed to get the label "disabled" which allows her to use paratransit services and she is also entitled to subsidized domestic help. It's good for her morale. She was embarrassed to receive people when her household was not done, even us, her childrens. We suggested, very gently so as not to offend, to go live in a senior home, it's smaller and she would have services nearby, but she would not absolutely want of that. She was afraid of not doing what she loves above all, play the piano, and at any time of day or night. She also has always lived in this house and she is accustomed to his neighborhood. I tried make her a visit more often, but again, I did not always felt myself welcome, perhaps because the household has not been done and she was feeling monitored.

So we were all a little worried, everyone on our side, with no daring to speak about it, and at Easter, when all the family was reunited, Francoise has addressed the issue. My sister, Francoise, is always at ease discussing some hot topics. She is the diplomat of the family and our mom makes her a full confidence. Francoise has had the idea to register herself as a volunteer at the hospital, to help our mother in her activity. Many residents are paralyzed and in a wheelchair and the volunteer's task is to lead them to the chapel and, after mass, bring them back to their room. My sister, is also assisting our mother in the distribution the song's books. She told me she wanted to experiment volunteering and finally, she told me she likes to do it. She has found the recognition she can not find in her workplace and she is so very happy.

A few weeks ago, I offered to replace Francoise so she could take a leave if necessary. It seems that my proposal was appropriate, as she wanted to go to Quebec city with her handsome husband, Lucien, for their 35th wedding anniversary. So I also gave my name as a volunteer, to the delight of organizers who are seeking replacement. So I attended several times at the pastoral activity and I have learned what were my sister's tasks, I have discovered that I enjoy singing. Volunteering allows me to do some different things and it provides me with new experiences that I will use later in my writing.

For example: Before the Mass, we are entitled to a free dinner with the chaplain. Those people of another generation have discussions rather curious and piquant, Ouch!, I prefer not to intervene, but I feel I'll have fun listening to them.

Since the spring, organizers are seeking someone who can work at the gift shop, a few hours on Sunday. I think I'll offer my services. I've never done that and I'd like to learn to use a cash register. We never know, maybe, when I'll retire, I will have some customers with a store, so I will know how this kind of business does work.

I'll write to you again to share with you some details of my daily life. It makes me feel good, you know, it's important for me to know that you're reading me.

Kisses and see you soon .....

Sincerely, Gelisa

This is a photo of my Mom that I took during the Christmas holidays last year.
She is 87 years old. She really doesn't look her age, isn't she?
She is very proud of us, having us besides her.

Letter of September 2, 2009 - Hello You!

Letter of September 2, 2009

Hello You!

I finally took the pen to make you a regular correspondence. I'm not a writer or a poet, but I love writing and I have so much to tell you, without restraint or fear of being judged, dear You, my friend passing thru this blog. This is something I've wanted to do for a long time, but where will I start.

I saw the nurse today, do not worry, I'm not sick, I do some blood pressure and my doctor follows me tightly on it. This is age, I suppose, and stress at work. You thought I was retired, I am enlightens you, I'm still working and I still have four years to do before my retiring, exactly 1390 days. I have install a counter on my Google page. I work as an administrative assistant in a logistics company, but my boss present me as "the controller". He says this is important for his business. Thus, it shows visitors that I controle his spending and that the company is well managed.

But this is not the reason why I write to you today, I'll tell you more about my work in another letter. I wanted to tell you that I am a grandmother of a wonderful little boy, Benoit, who was born last December. Here is his photo.

It happened very quickly, my son, Mathieu has finally decided to leave his Julie after seven years together. His dream was to have kids. He left Sarah, after she did an abortion of their baby. I have learned this much later, I also learned my son was very upset and he was depressive. Then he met Julie at the factory where he worked. They moved together. It seemed to me she was a suitable girl and he was apreciated in her family. They have often spoken of their desire to have children but Julie never became pregnant. I see that their relationship goes adrift. A few months after Christmas 2007, it quick I'm telling you, I learn that Mathieu has left her for an old classmate, Maryse, already mother of a 4 years old boy.

Their first visit was to announce me she was pregnant. I fell off my chair. I did not know that girl. I hope when my son knows what he does. And they asked me and my dear Henry, to be the godparents of this little boy, of course, we were very much happy.

I have so much to tell you, I will write you again with more news from me, from us, with ideas and memories. I hope my small letters are pleasing you, it's important for me to know that you read me.


Much hugs! ;-) I will write you very soon again.

Your friend, Gelisa