Even after 40 years, there are moments of deep quiet . . .

Lee - You are doing an amazing job shopping. That was not an easy list and Costco can be challenging.

Ken - There was something I couldn't get. Can't remember what it was. I lost the list.

Lee - Benadryl?

Ken - They don't carry that any more

Lee - Really?

Ken - Well, I couldn't find it so they don't carry it

Lee - Cadbury chocolate bars?

Ken - They don't carry those any more

Lee (now getting in to the swing of things) - Umm hmm Frank's Hot Sauce?

Ken - They don't carry that . . .

Lee - Vanilla Ice Cream (Remember the comment that started this - one item . . .)

Ken - They don't carry that any more - I asked (you see where the motivation rests) - but I stopped at Superstore and got two containers

It is hot here today. Ken had been home for about an hour. No ice cream had crossed the doorway. Ken NEVER goes to Superstore.

Lee- Ken, no ice cream was put away. Could you go check the car, get the ice cream that is now soup and bring it in so we can dispose of it - Wait for it . . .

Ken - Whaddya mean?

Lee - It is very warm. The car is now very, very warm. Ice cream is a frozen product when it is in good form. You have been home a while. Ice cream will no longer be a frozen product and when it is in soup stage, it is not able to be redeemed.

Ken - I brought it in

Lee - Nope, didn't happen

Ken - thinking hard - I bought butter. It was on sale. I bought two.

And there we have it. We are butter replete. Ice cream will happen another day.

 A small procedure has me off my feet. Here is news - if you need a nurse, do not call 1-800- Our Ken. Most recently, the conversation went like this

K - Did you hear something ringing

Lee - Sort of

(Wait for it)

K- whaddya mean?

L- well, when I dial a number, I can hear a tone telling me the phone is " ringing" elsewhere

Perplexed look

K - well I heard ringing. What do you suppose it was?

L - Do you think it might have been the cell phone in your pocket that you asked me to call when I needed you?

K somewhat triumphantly - i knew I heard ringing!

And that, my friends, is why you might want to let your surgeon book you a bed . . .

 And the conversation went as follows

K - I think we should go out to dinner

L - Since I began in the kitchen at 6 this morning, I think that is a good bet

K - Where are we going to go?

L - (Keep in mind we have exactly ONE restaurant in the Village) "What do you think about Bitar's"

K - Oh OK. Do I need to change?

L - Are you planning to sit alone?

K - (wait for it) "Whaddya mean"

L - (the look on the face did not require additional words)

K - Guess I'll be changing now.

As far as I can recall, there has not been a day in this marriage that has not, at one point or another, resulted in "Whaddya mean?". It appears my communication skills are not improving with age.

 And then there is Ken

On walking through the door - "I think the house is haunted. It worries me"

Lee - Why would you think that

K - Alexa woke me up to some guy singing Danny Boy

Lee - Well, you woke her up at 5:30 asking her what time it was.

K (wait for it) Whaddya mean? I asked her the time, not to play Danny Boy.

L She was paying you back for waking her up.

K Muttering as he walks to the deck to feed the birds "Not asking her the time again. I'll look at my watch next time"

I do have to up my game. He seems to have slept through Amazing Grace, Rule Brittania and Scotland the Brave. Will ponder this for tomorrow.

And we are underway

 And our Ken-ism for the day

Ken is wearing a path in the pass through whilst he waits for me. I am completing 42 tasks before leaving for the city - none of which need to be done and all of which could have been left to our return, but I digress.

When Our Ken paces, there is a reason. I have been watching this go on for a few minutes. It is now accompanied by heavy sighs. Finally, he gets to the point of his antics

K - Well, what do you think of it?

L - Think of what dear? (knowing full well that it is his new cap that he is so chuffed about)

K - Got my new hat on - the one Reg sent for Christmas.

L - Are you going to wear it like that?

K - sporting a wounded look and huffing a bit - Whaddya mean? It's my new hat and I like it!

L - Well, Minnie Pearl, you might want to think about it a bit.

K - What?

L - Minnie, are you sure you want to go like that?

K - As he marches off to get the vehicle with the tag on top flapping like the comic character with the helicopter hat -

Don't know why you're calling me that. You don't make a lot of sense, sometimes.

Now, you know how very tempting it was to just let him go like that. But I decided there could be a point at which I might have to acknowledge knowing him. Reluctantly, I pointed out the large tag but it hurt a bit.

 And there is this :-

Lee - Ken, do you know the Airedales are in your garden picking tomatoes?

Ken - Proud as Punch - No they aren't. I shut the gate last night and put a bucket there because they have been opening it.

Lee - Well, two dogs that look a lot like Zoe and Emma are picking tomatoes, the gate is opened and the bucket appears intact on the inside. How does that positioning help with the bucket inside when the gate swings out. (He is the engineer, remember)

Ken - (wait for it) Whaddya mean? Goes to look bellowing "Zoe, Emma, put those down" even before he opens the door. Turning to me, chuckling - "Have to rethink that bucket placement".

Airedales 4 Points. Humans 0

Neighbours now awake and ready for a lovely fall day - no doubt will send thank you cards après bellow.

And the day starts

 And we're off and running

K - The weather changed. I need a sweater. Oh, there it is.

L - Just where you left it, imagine that

K - (wait for it) whaddya mean? Of course it is where I left it. Well, I suppose if a burglar came in and needed a sweater it wouldn't be there but it is so that didn't happen. (and he ponders further) But they would have been looking for gas, not a sweater in the house. (I mistakenly read him stories of the fuel shortages at our local stations) And he continues

You went to bed early so nobody else could have moved it. It is good that things are where you leave them - pointed look in my direction since he-who-hunts-and-gathers prefers a shambles to any semblance of order

L - Mmm hmm

K - And I don't know what was on Alexa's mind this morning but she was playing weird music. I had to get up it was so strange.

L - (who curates said music from the lower reaches and will do so until Our Ken figures out that can happen) What was she playing this morning

K - I couldn't figure it out. Have never heard any of it before.

L - Really (I had her play Battle Hymn but not by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy but not by the Andrews Sisters, When The Saints Go Marchin In by a Southern Baptist Group and a couple more pithy choices).

K - I think one kept telling me You'll Never Die. And I don't like the format of the Weather Network any more. They changed the whole thing around and you can't follow anything. And it was programmed by Newfoundlanders.

L - Newfoundlanders?

K - Yes, all they tell me is Newfoundland weather. No Charlottetown, no Yarmouth, all Newfoundland and Labrador. That is weather we have already had. What good is that?

And the day starts . . .

 K - (on surfacing) Guess What?

L - Good Morning, Ken

K - What did you say? Guess What?!!!

L - I said Good morning, Ken.

K - Oh (pause) Morning Now Guess What

L - That was two minutes of my life that I won't get back.

K - wait for it - whaddya mean?

L - Have the aliens landed? Is the apocalypse near?

K - You need more coffee; you aren't making sense. But guess what? I had Alexa play Battle Hymn of the Republic upstairs and I guess I was singing along with it where she could hear. When we finished singing (he now appears to have integrated himself as a card carrying member of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir) Alexa said to me "I will play more music like that if you will continue to sing along" Alexa heard me and likes my singing and wants to hear more.

L - That speaks volumes to her taste, doesn't it.

K - Whaddya mean?

And the day is off to a running start. Two whaddya means in one conversation is uncommon, speaking to the length of time he normally puts up with my torture. He is now marching around the property humming - loudly. Good thing there is lots of grassland between us and the neighbours

 Ken is losing control of his flock!

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 It is a day.

Ken - Do you want to keep this?

Lee - (in the middle of 100 activities none of which lend itself to trekking to Our Ken's side to actively take part in his Christmas sorting day) - Keep what?

K - This box

L - What is in it?

K - Nothing

L - Nothing?

K - Do you want to keep it?

L - Why would I want a box of nothing?

K - It's a good box.

Pause and a moment of reflection so as not to bruise an ego

L - A good box?

K - Come look - it is a good box.

Pause and determine that finishing his applesauce may be more of a long term win than examining an empty box, regardless of how 'good' - Are there bad boxes?

K - wait for it Whaddya mean? Oh, never mind. I'll just keep it myself. It's a good box!

So there we have it. If you don't jump with alacrity as the opportunity presents, you, too, will lose the joy of having a good box! And the packrat living among us has filed his prize.

Active

 Well, we had a first yesterday at BL. My half full cart went awol. I was apparently far too involved in selecting the perfect ham, turned and there it wasn't. Now, this was not an empty cart nor did it have only one or two items. It was half full. It had a very large cantaloupe in the area small children position themselves to torture their parents. The cantaloupe approximated child size and there was a moment of relief that I hadn't been traded for someone's offspring. But there was also no trade in evidence. My cart had vanished. I searched the deli area thinking someone may have objected to its positioning and moved it - even an aisle away. I checked the bakery area - nope, not there. I mentioned my quandary to a great Costco employee who, with me, took up the search. There was a suspiciously lonely cart sitting next to the baked goods but the only thing our two carts had in common was a box of swiffer duster refills. This cart was more replete than was mine and included clothes, different fruits and vegetables and, most tellingly, in place of my special cantaloupe, there were shopping bags - cloth bags that were notable in that they were not Costco nor did they seem to be from a local store. Antennae up, I watched this cart for a while but nobody came to collect it. My Costco friend and I continued our search - to the checkouts, to the abandoned cart area (yes, there is an abandoned cart area) and all points between, me carrying that ham in hopes that it could be joined with its preselected yet to be made friends who were to have come home with us (my husband had a separate list and, ladies, I do recommend this strategy as it leaves you to actually shop rather than listen to sighing and 'are we done yet' comments harking back to your childhood). He was, of course, long gone - checked out and in the vehicle so unable to be pressed into Bloodhound service. And yes, there was passing thought that perhaps I should start over but that was beyond me - also would have been less productive since I had snaffled the last of those lovely chandelier bulbs for the day that Energy NS had on sale for half price! And there was the cantaloupe!!! Ready to throw in the towel, and having moved from surprise, through determination to resignation and now downright grumpy, I was returning the ham when, lo and behold - there was my cart sitting in splendid isolation in front of the yogourt. And yes, we had been up and down that aisle several times. In went the ham and off I went to the cash - asking the cart where the heck it had been and what it had been up to. My husband, on coming to help unload, mentioned that the lines must have been long by the time I got to the cash. He was a bit unprepared for the diatribe that followed. And, on the drive home, I realized that not only had the cart gone awol but in its wanderings, it apparently determined that we did not need either the dill pickle salad nor the chicken taco meal because both were mia! What kind of person not only swipes your cart in the ham aisle, takes your cantaloupe for a spin but also returns the evening dinner?!!!

 Yesterday the Fashion Police were in evidence

Ken - What is the matter with her hair?

Lee - She has great hair

Ken - There is nothing great about that. Look at it. She has way too much hair. She needs a haircut. Why would she think that looks good? It doesn't. It is a mess. Somone should tell her to get a haircut. I could do a better job than that.

So, CBC, please share with Heather Hiscox that Our Ken feels a haircut is in order and should she wish to pop in next she is in NS, she is cordially invited to hop on the grooming table for a no frills clipper-do courtesy of the Belnan Fashion Police.

Today, the Music Critic has surfaced during Morning Jo on MSNBC

Ken - Who is that? Is she anybody? Why is she on Morning Jo? Is that singing. She has a guitar so it must supposed to be singing but there aren't any words. There isn't a tune either. Is she singing?

Lee - Yes

Ken - (having had sufficient coffee to preclude that answer getting by) Whaddya mean 'Yes'. That is not singing - it just sounds like caterwauling. Does she think that is singing? Is it about the election - can you hear any words? Do you know her?

Lee - Don't think we have met.

Ken - wait for it - Whaddya mean? Met who? You aren't paying attention. That is awful. See, Jo didn't like it either - he walked over to stop her and she wasn't even done squealing. He knows music. That isn't music

So Jewel, while he didn't comment on your hair, he also did not enjoy that little ditty. Time to up your game to meet Our Ken's exacting standards.

And the day is underway.

 In Canada, it is Remembrance Day. In the US it is Veterans' Day. In both countries, it is a day to celebrate, with thankfulness, our veterans, our hard won freedoms and our lives well lived.

On this day, Our Ken organizes his day around a trip to Bedford; we drive to the cemetery where his parents and his brother Don are buried, pay our respects and lay poppies on the graves. It is always a day of remembrance and a day of memories.

As we drive in, Our Ken recollected the many days that we made the trip; sometimes it was in snow, oftentimes in cold rain and very occasionally in sun. Today it was 18 degrees (64F) with sun. We spoke of the wars that his Dad was involved in (the Boer War and WW1). He reminded me that for the Boer War, his Dad took his own horse - they shipped overseas and the horses were in the belly of the ships, cared for by their owners. He spoke of WW 1 gas masks, of the many letters written by his parents and of his grandfather, Colonel Curren, who helped his Dad enlist at the ripe age of almost 17. We moved on to reminiscences of vehicles, from the Company car driven for work to the 1931 family vehicle and then the cherished 1939 Pontiac (it was a great car, it seems).

He spoke of his mother, a school principal in Bedford, who gave up her job when she married. She was one of a large family of children (they numbered well into the double digits) and did not have a middle name - Ken reckons her parents had run out of names by the time she surfaced so a first name only had to suffice. There were several nuns (Sisters of Charity) and her first cousin was Archbishop Hayes. Helen Creighton was also a cousin and Ken's middle name reflects that family. The Roche family was not thrilled that Mary (Our Ken's Mom) married an Anglican!

The cemetery is a beautiful spot and on this lovely fall day, it was easy to sit on a bench and reminisce. Ken pointed out the school that he attended from grades 1 to 4. When the weather was bad, he stayed with a family near the school rather than walk the long road of Magazine Hill to get home. From there it was Bedford Schools and finally the High School where the children who lived in Windsor Jct. and Waverley, who went beyond Grade 8, had to come by train. There were only a few families in the Hammonds Plains area and they came by vehicle into Bedford. He chuckled as we passed the Chicken Burger, saying "Many a day I stopped there to spend my 5 cents".

As we stood at the graves, once again calculating the ages as well as the timing of the many world events that these folks lived through, Our Ken recognized yet again that he is the only one of his generation of Currens remaining. He is not one to dwell on these facts, rather is accepting of his longevity and his position as the youngest of four sons, but it does make him pause and recognize that his memories of these events are now his alone. At 91, he is well, vital and engaged in world events. He speaks knowledgeably of the past, the present and his hope for the future. He does not celebrate war. He wore a uniform, had an ROTP Scholarship through University and saw first hand the devastation caused when countries could not come to terms with their differences. As we close the curtains tonight, he will remember once again the losses, the stories and the tragedy as he celebrates the many lives given that allowed us to live in peace here in Canada. We are lucky and we will never forget.

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