Pretty Flower

Pretty flower, I saw you showing off proudly while your companions, begonias and impatients, quietly giving up, unable to stand the frost of November nights.

Pretty flower, day after day you became more and more pretty, is it to soften my heart, when I was planning to let you die too?

“After all, geraniums are found in abundance on the shelves in spring and your big pot takes up a lot of space.”

And today, you are still here, after several nights of frost, you are still so pretty, I hear your prayer and I don't want to see you suffer anymore. I'll bring you inside and in the spring you'll find your place on my balcony.

PETRU GUELFUCCI - CORSICA

I'm coming back to this blog to update the messages, after almost 15 years elsewhere, I'm resuming my blogging activities. 15 years is a long time, many messages are no longer up to date.

My new research tells me that Petru Guelfucci is no longer with us. In this month of November, traditionally dedicated to the deceased, I am resuming this post to introduce him to you again

SEPTEMBER 13, 2009, I wrote . . . . . . 

Petru Guelfucci is a Corsica singer, born in 1955 in Sermanu. Emblematic figure in the revival of Corsican polyphony, he helped create the group Canta U Populu Corsu ....

This group will rekindle the flame of nationalism within a generation. "This was the period of reclaiming our heritage, sayd Guelfucci. It was the plague of the time. We were forbidden to speak Corsican in schools. »....

Petru Guelfucci did not succeed at first in his country France, but in Quebec. He then started an international career and earned a gold record in Canada. Petru is a real personality of the Corsican song, with a tone of voice quite unusual and a real sense of melody. Wikipedia He wrote one of the most beautiful songs about the Isle of Beauty: Corsica (1991), and when I heard it on the radio, I got the cassette without hesitation. Corsican singing is captivating, it is a harmony that opens the heart and soothes the mind, it is voices full of color and passion. 

CORSICA

His work will live forever.

Rest In Peace Petru Guelfucci

March 6, 1955 - October 8, 2021

Boogie Woogie Piano man, Tommy Johnson

I'm coming back to this blog to update the messages, after almost 15 years elsewhere, I'm resuming my blogging activities. 15 years is a long time, many messages are no longer up to date. 

My new research tells me that The Boogie Woogie Man Tommy Johnson, a character who fascinated me at the time, is no longer with us. In this month of November, traditionally dedicated to the deceased, I am resuming this post to introduce him to you again

Rest In Peaece Tommy Johnson, a super nice Boogie Man who enterained us in bewitching Boogie Woogies 

R.I.P. TOMMY JOHNSON

March 8, 1940 - February 23, 2021

Japanese bookbinding

Hello all

I'm doing a bit of archiving and classification in my home papers. I was looking for a way to link some documents and I did not want to pay. So I did a search on the Web and I have found this example bookbinding, easy to do and nothing to pay. Who has not some cardboard, some ribbon , printed paper and glue already on hand. The explanations on these video are easy to follow, hopefully that will give you ideas.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

This other video shows the same type of binding with a ribbon as a tether.

Have fun!

Walk in the Park

It's so nice and Charlie BB does a big walk in the Angrignon Park

Walk in the Park
by glgmplus

Our Winters

Winter is not so bad for those who have a parking place or stay home, because the biggest drawbacks of this season are the storms of snow, so we must suffer the delays in transportation, icy roads and swept away by high winds, huge snowdrifts that confuse us and the worst is ice. Once all this happened, we discover beautiful landscapes and we go out snowboarding, skiing and snowshoes walking. Some people prefer the south during this season, personally, I like winter and it would fail me if I would live more in the south.

Charlie did the comments on this small diaporama of our winters

Music is from Frank Molder
under common creative licence

The woodpecker

HELLO !

I walked in the park with Charlie, there was nobody! The snow was too hard for skiing or snowshoeing.

So I walked the whole trail on this beautiful white crust without recess. I took some pictures, and this little video.

Listen carefully to the silence of the wind and the noise of the woodpecker in the woods.

On this video, I say ...........
" This is a photo, I meant a video of my park, when I am walkin with my little dog Charlie.
If you listen carefully, you will hear the woodpecker"

Chichi and Diva

Let me introduce you my two cats, Chichi and Diva. At new-year 1999, I was invited to celebrate at my brother's place and I came back with these two little balls of hair.

They were so cute, we had fitted the spare bedroom for them. At night we started leaving the doors ajar , just so they could not escape the room, but they could hear the noises of the house and they could do all their follies of youth without disturbing us.

And during the day, the doors to our rooms were slightly closed so they could not enter and sleep in the beds. After one year we stop closing the doors.
After a few years, we moved to Verdun, west of Montreal, the apartment was smaller and they had lost their room. They slept in the lounge. I had found a job downtown and I had to take a bus at the corner of my street to get to the subway. That's about 500 steps and when I was arriving at the bus stop, I was so breathless, I thought I would die. Do I have asthma? Is it my heart? Is this the new apartment?

C H I C H I

Chichi was very endearing, purring and affectionate to us, but she hated visitors.
She was then very mad and was spitting on them.

D I V A

Diva had mitten paws. The opposite of Chichi, she was independent, adventurous.
She loved taking rides in the house and playing hockey with balls of paper.

The doctor prescribed me a bronchodilator that I had to use the morning before leaving for work. I realized that I had these ailments at the beginning of the week and I did not had to use my pump on other days. In joke, I was saying that I must be allergic to work because I always use my pump on Mondays.

One day I found myself unemployed and since I was staying at home, I was using my pump every day. It was obvious I was allergic to something at home. I had to get rid of my cats. A very hard decision, obviously I denied a few weeks and Henry had to reason with me. He also had great difficulty to get rid of them.

I phoned the SPCA, and they came to get them on one spring morning. They put them together in the same small cage. Chichi was so mad and was spitting, she hated so much this man who had grabbed her so suddenly to insert her into this tiny cage, and Diva rolled herself into a ball, she was so afraid, she was paralized with fear and she was hoping that Chichi wins the battle.

On paper, I asked that the cats were not separated. But Chichi was so bad with foreigners.......... I prefer not to think about it.

The Hurdy gurdy ( wheel fiddle )

My niece came back from France with 2 memory cards full of pictures and video. I offered her to arrange it all on DVD with my Roxio program. I am working on this project since 4 months now, finally ... not all of the time, but I will be very happy to finish it. This will be his Christmas gift.

She stayed at a friend in the countryside of Burgundy, and I found on her memory card an amazing video showing a guy playing a strange music instrument. He was playing folkloric music and the dynamic sound seemed to come from another era.

- What is this?
- I think it a kind of a vielle. He's Mic's friend and he plays mostly at festivals.

Long life to the internet.....................

I find this instrument, I must say, quite impressive in its mechanical design. Work of a luthier, the hurdy-gurdy has evolved and today it includes over 200 pieces.

It appeared in the Middle Ages, around the ninth century, after the invention of the manievelle and it's in the 12 th century that we found the first representations of this instrument, the organistrum. It was used mainly in churches and abbeys, to accompany choral music, and it was played by two people.

In the 13th century appeared an ancestor of the hurdy-gurdy, the symphonia. From a form almost square, the wheel was under the housing cover. At that time, the troubadours were using it to accompany their songs across Europe, both in village squares and in castles.

In the 15th century appeared the renaissance style hurdy-gurdy. The instrument began to feature in courtly amusements, Bâton, Vivaldi and Leopold Mozart, father of Wolfgang Amadeus, have composed several songs for it. And the old hurdy-gurdy was dethroned by the pianoforte. The French Revolution will cause a profound change in practice and in the century which followed the instrument enjoyed much favour in big city wine bars, and rural dance places.

In the 1970s, the "folk" movement appropriates it and groups called "celtic" are formed. Today, the instrument continues to evolve, violin makers refines it, they are looking for a pure and accurate sound and still further the quality of the hurdy-gurdy.

This instrument has a sound often compared to the bagpipes. The musician actuates a crank with his right hand, which turns a wheel that rubs on a rope "Bourdon" continuously, and a continuous sound is heard until the song stops.

From the left hand, the musician presses keys similar to the piano ones to play the melody. The keybox is located on the body, part of the instrument that makes the sound resonate. The keys are connected to a mechanism called tangents that come in contact with the strings when you press the keys.

In addition to strings, which give the melody, is added percussion! And yes, the hurdy-gurdy are also contained it's own drummer! By cranking the wheel harder, one of the drones can be made to vibrate rhythmically and a rap beat is heard .

On this smal youtube clip, listen to Arnaud Lachambre playing a folk air
"le Branle des Chevaulx" on a nice Hurdy gurdy, Renaissance style
made by Chris Allen (an U.K. violin maker).

Sources and some links:

Wikipedia

The Hurdy-Gurdy symphonia

Note Books

Arnaud Lachambre, hurdy gurdy player

Music Aloud.com
Olympic Musical Instruments
Earthly Delights Historic Dance Academy
Interesting thing of the day by ITotD

The Red Marbles

Everyone leaves a legacy, but not every legacy is worth receiving. A former Idaho resident tells us this beautiful story and demonstrates the value of a life well lived :

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.

I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.

'Hello Barry, how are you today?'

'H'lo , Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look
good.'

'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'

'Fine.. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'

'Good. Anything I can help you with?'

'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.'

'Would you like to take some home ?' asked Mr.. Miller.

'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'

'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'

'All I got's my prize marble here.'

'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller..

'Here 'tis. She's a dandy.'

'I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home ?' the store owner asked.

'Not zackley but almost..'

'Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble'.. Mr. Miller told the boy.

'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.. With a smile she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store..'

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.

Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr.. Miller had died.

They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.

Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her, and moved on to the casket.

Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one; each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.

'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size.....they came to pay their debt.'

'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho.'

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.



Conclusion: At the end, people will not remember our words but our good deeds ... Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that make us catch our breath...
Today I wish you a day filled with these little pleasures - Fresh coffee you did not prepare yourself ... A phone call from an old friend ... The green lights on your way to get to work ... The fastest line at the grocery store ... A good song on the radio ... Your keys found in the same place that you have left.

I got the swine flu shot

That's it, I got the swine flu shot, and I noticed some side effects.

• The jimmylegs : I had to wait 15 mins before they let me go
• Undue fear: I would not ride on the Grand Boulevard in case I find myself ill.
• Flatulence: A true slut, it's probably why it is called swine flu. It was really unpleasant and also smelled the skunk.


• Will I turn into a ...... ?

WE'LL SEE IN A FEW DAYS IF I'M STILL HERE

MARGARET'S MUSEUM

Release Date: 1995
Director : Mort Ransen
With : Helena Bonham-Carter , Kate Nelligan
Country : Canada / Gr.bretagne

This movie has won many Genie Awards:
Best Achievement in Screenwriting
- Gerald Wexler, Mort Ransen
Best Achievement in Music/Original Score
- Milan Kymlicka
Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role
- Helena Bonham Carter
Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role
- Kenneth Welsh
Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role
- Kate Nelligan
Meilleurs costumes
-Nicolette Massone

Résume:
Set in the 1940s in Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, it tells the story of a young girl living in a coal mining town where the death of men from accidents in "the pit" (the mines) has become almost routine. Margaret MacNeil (Helena Bonham Carter) has already lost her father and an older brother and for her, life alone would be prefereable to marrying a mine worker — that is until the charming Neil Currie (Clive Russell) shows up. Against the wishes of her hard-bitten mother (Kate Nelligan) they marry, but before long financial woes lead to his doing what every other uneducated young man does in the town: take a job underground. His death in the mine drives Margaret to a mental breakdown and in her surreal world she decides to create a "special" museum to the memories of all those who have died as a result of the horrific mining conditions. The advent of the film inspired the organization PAMAUG, which strongly advocates the usage of means other than manual labor to extract coal from mines. (Wikipedia)

TRAILER

My appreciation:


During my trip to Cape Breton, I was invited with a distant relative, Neil, who lives in the small mining town of Glace Bay. He is a retired miner from the coal mine and he showed me a kind of lantern that he had to bring with him into the mine. This lantern can detect gas explosion if the air entering the lamp was responsible for gas, it produced a visible fuel (so-called "halo") around the normal flame. Thus he could detect and rush to flee a gas explosion.

So I watched this movie out of curiosity and to learn more about the hard life of miners. But I was literally spellbound by the play of Helena Bonham Carter that I saw for the first time as well as the nice soundtrack. Our hero has mesmerized the beautiful Margaret with his bagpipe. This movie marked me deeply and I will never be tired of seeing several times.

AUTOMN LANDSCAPES

What a beautiful fall day today, but I have not benefited much, I'm sick. No it's not swine flu, not this time, I don't have fever, just a nasty cold that follows its usual course.

I took the opportunity to rummage through my pictures and I took my most beautiful autumn photos to show you.

__________ OUTREMONT __________

It is in Outremont, on the Mount Royal mountain, that I have seen the most beautiful yellow. The municipality take a jealous care of the trees, often centuries old. In Outremont, I saw, for the first time, cabling systems and docking to help large branches to support the weight of the leaves.

2004 Outremont - Joyce Park

2003 Outremont, Rockland Street

__________ VERDUN __________

Verdun is a neighborhood in the west of the city and the trees are also very old, unfortunately the municipality prefers to invest on the shores and they often get rid of the old trees. There are a lot of red maple leaves. I saw the most beautiful red-orange color in Verdun.

2004 Verdun, Melrose Street

2006 Verdun, Melrose Street

A bike path runs along the banks of the St. Lawrence nearly 15km, in Verdun, there is a promenade and several small parks for relaxing or to do a picnic.

2006 Verdun, Wharf at the height of Brault Street, in front of Nun's Island

2006 Verdun, View on the shore from the Wharf

__________ ANGRIGNON PARK __________

Angrignon Park, has many subtle charms with its 97 hectares and over 20,000 trees, it is one of the largest parks in Montreal. One would think a nineteenth century english garden, with its winding paths and a pond surrounded by cattails.

2007 Montreal, Angrignon park, picnic area

2007 Montreal, Angrignon park, pathway

2007 Montreal, Angrignon park, pond

2007 Montreal, Angrignon park a windy day

2007 Montréal, Angrignon Park

2009 Montreal, My neighbour's cat

Charlie's couch

Hello friends, it's me, Charlie, Gelisa has already show a picture of me on the blog. I love her so much, I miss her so much when she is at work.

But it is Henry who treats me the most. He always has a little surprise for me in his pockets and I would give him the moon to please him.

This week they decided to get rid of my confortable couch. I liked so much that sofa, my mistress, too, in the evening we were watching tv together and I was doing nice dreams. Henry, himself, was sitting in his rocking chair in the corner of the living room.

Monday, Henry has removed the metal frame, but the sofa was still too heavy for them to take it down to the street. So Henry has decided to cut it in half with his big saw. I was so happy to provide a little help. On that picture, I am doing a bit of sawing.

Wouf! Here you can see the furniture, halved

What an adventure, Henry and Gelisa could finally take out the furniture to the street and Gelisa kindly took a picture of me with my confortable couch before it was picked up by scavengers.

I am a little sad to lose it.

There is a large space in the living room and all week my mistress was sitting on the piano bench to watch TV, there was no place for me, so I slept on my pillow.

And Friday, I heard the doorbell. I did not know these men who climbed the stairs with those big boxes, but they were so nice, I left them stroke me, everybody wants to stroke me and touch my soft hairs, and I love receiving hugs. My mistress said I'm not a good watchdog. I do not want to be a watchdog, I am a pet dog. Voila! Wouf!

Ah! Look here who answered the door.

The men have left with the empty boxes and ..... It's bizzare, that couch, it doesn't smell like the other one. I'd like to climb on it but I am not sure I have permission. It is also slippery and cold.

When my mistress came back from work, she was so happy to see her new couch. But this is not a couch, she says it's a love seat. This piece is much smaller and when two poeple sit down, they talk together while on the couch they lay on it.

Gelisa put a thick throw on it, she's afraid that I rend it with my nails.

Hooray! I managed to climb on it.

I'm doing nice dog on this photo because Henry is showing me a cookie. He always has a treat in his pockets. What I would do for a treat.

Zut! I don't think I can eat my cookie on the new couch

Letter of October 10, 2009 - Dad

(06/2005 © gelisa)
In this beautiful afternoon of automn, I went to the cemetery where my dad was buried 30 years ago, and all my memories are coming back on this anniversary day.

My friend reader, you did not know him. Dad was a successful businessman and he was also very handsome and good speaker. He had even been approached to work with municipal politics, but he refused. He told us he did not want to join in their "games". His rules for living were well defined, making him a man of integrity, fair and good.

One of the most engaging memories of Dad is his odor when he was comming back from his construction site, the smell of sawdust mixed with the one of putty. He was always wearing a large lead pencil on his right ear. At evening, after dinner, he was retiring in his office with a cup of tea to handle the company accounts and to do some reading. Often I was following him in his world, in this part of the basement, witness of his businessman and inventor life. There, we could not hear the animation of the house, only the sounds of the paper punch, the big calculator and the rustle of fine paper bills. Dad let me play with his calculator and I could not believe that machine could memorise all the addition and multiplication tables. Don't ask me how it works.

Mechanical calculator

When my dad had finished his office work, he was taking a book or the encyclopedia and studied. Everyone said that Dad was a self-taught and it seemed to me it was like quite an honor, they even said about him that he had knowledge of an engineer. I also wanted to be a self taught like him and I loved rummaging through his books when he was not there.

On Sunday, at home, was a sacred day. Early in the morning, Dad was cooking, and he was making a big pot of soup. He was also preparing a roast beef to cook before leaving for church. Mom was dressing us with our best clothes and we were all crammed into the big Pontiac. The Sunday morning Mass was very important but it was so boring, besides, my mom was watching me closely to stand straight and I keep quiet. Dad was always sitting on the edge of the driveway, ready to go out with one of us for a need. Let's say it was also to go talking business with others and to smoke a cigaret on the porch of the church.

After lunch it was the car ride. First of all, Dad was going at the construction site to ensure there had been no vandalism at night. Sometimes he was letting us climb on the first floor. It was quite an adventure for us. There were no walls and large holes in the floors. After visiting the site, he was taking us to a picnic or at the beach or on a vacant lot, probably the site of a new project. I preferred the empty lots. We could always find a small pond of tadpoles, grasshoppers and clumps of daisies. I liked so much to weave wreaths of daisies and my brother to fill jars of tadpoles for fishing.

But all this is now so far. I found us gathered around the grave of dad and none of my brothers speak of his memories. They have not experienced the same man, the one of my memory because they were too young. They only remember of a man embittered by so many disappointments and sentenced by arteriosclerosis, a disease that gradually destroys the tissues and cells of the nervous system, often associated with memory problems and with emotional . Today I have my Dad's age when he passed away and I have not done one tenth of what he has done.

Now I think a lot about him, in my toughts, I cry often for him, of all he could endure, of the incomprehension of his family, and I feel he is close to me, I'm sitting on his lap and I hear he's saying:

-" I told thee that there was nothing after death, but this is not true, I have found peace and I am living in the Hereafter"

-"Dad, this is my dearest wish. Sleep well."

Thank you for following me so far. Go outdoor and see how beautiful it is outside and enjoys the last beautiful autumn days.

Gelisa

This photo was taken in the park near my home. (10/2007 © gelisa)

A room, upside down [ La chambre renversée ]

I've seen it somewhere and I loved it

Julien Ribot, born in Nice (France) on May 19, 1973, is a french singer-songwriter and also an illustrator. Alongside his career in music, Julien Ribot is a graduate from Pennington School of Graphic Arts in 1995 and as an illustrator, he makes CD and book covers, and most personal work.. 

Julien Ribot

I fall for this short film animation of Julien Ribot and Philippe Massonnet and I'd like to share with you ........

First clip from the album 'VEGA' of Julien Ribot.

Lyrics: It may sound funny in English but this is a fantasy!!!

1st verse

Je vis dans une chambre renversée, I live in a room, upside down,
ces fenêtres s'ouvrent sur mes pensées... it's windows open on my thoughts ...
Je vit dans une chambre qui s'est posé, I live in a room that had arisen,
sur le sommet d'un grand alphabet... on top of a large alphabet ...


Refrain

Sans faire de bruits, elle déplie, tous ses murs vers l'infini, m'entraine vers qui je suis ! du du du du du dux2...
Without making a noise, it unfolds, its walls to infinity leads me to who I am! du du du du du dux2 ...

Second verse

Je vis dans les chambres infiltrées, I live in the rooms infiltrated
les pendules sont des pays abstraits... clocks are abstracted countries ...
Je vis dans une chambre illuminée, I live in a room illuminated
par un millier d'ampoules colorées... with a thousand colored lights ...

Refrain

Insomnia Quotes

WHAT A DAY DUDE!!!!!

I AM DEAD

Insomnia is a gross feeder. It will nourish itself on any kind of thinking, including thinking about not thinking.
[Clifton Fadiman]

The Sixth Sense is not a good white film. Insomnia is not a good white film. They're just good films. So why we can't we have good films that happen to have black people, or Asian, or Latino, or any other minority group in them? .
[Joseph Wood Krutch]

Joseph Wood 

Swine Flu : The vaccine

It's been several days now that I question myself. Why are there so many people who deny the seriousness of Swine Flu. Should we believe the more optimistic? And if they were wrong? I am getting scared because there are so many contradictions.

Saturday at the hospital, the celebrant of the mass office had lunch with us and was telling us: - "There is no truth in what they say about this flu, it is the pharmaceutical companies who want to make money with their pill Tamiflu. And I do not understand why the diocese Gatineau is emptying holy water fonts, it's ridiculous. "

I was flabbergasted, that person has a position of authority as a minister of religion and in my opinion, he should not speak that way about something as serious and also he has no expertise. There were people aged over 80 years at that table. From what I understand, these people are at risk and they also are volunteers at the hospital. That the industry of religion is content to look after the souls. The Church is really not well placed to talk about the quick money that could make other industries. ... .. There is also that faith in the deity who will decide if he or she will be hit or not with the illness. This minister of religion was speaking personally but it makes me feel realy angry....

Lets forget this man, isn't it true that many people think like him, "Only Half Of Us Want Swine Flu Shots". Should we fear the vaccine?. I respect the choice of everyone not to be vaccinated and it's at their own risk, it's a personal decision, everybody is master of his person.

But everyone has the responsibility not to transmit the illness, isn't it? A classroom teacher, a hockey coach, a babysitter, a bus driver, a minister of religion, aren't they a vehicles for the spread of the disease? Apparently, if they ever catch it, they are contagious 24 hours before onset of symptoms. Isn't it a mark of respect for those around them every day? shouldn't they be vaccinated at least to minimize the risk of catching and passing.

I live with someone who almost died of meningitis and I'm going to be vaccinated. I don't want to let this disease to enter our house. It is true that the vaccine could cause side effects but I have no fear. I am certain that Swine Flu would be much worse, if I caught it.

What do you think about this?

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