The People on the Bus

Last month I wrote about a bus ride that I took, during which an initially grumpy little girl and I exchanged funny faces and gestures, and became fast friends by the time her stop arrived. Despite the fun and the endearing connection that we made, the incident left me feeling sad because of the lack of interest her mother showed her. Last week I took that same bus ride at the precise time as the previous trip, and I half-hoped I'd see the little girl again. I didn't.

As I settled into my seat, someone rang the bell indicating their intention to disembark at the next bus stop. As a woman and her young son passed my seat, I could hear the boy enthusiastically singing "The Wheels of the Bus" It brought me back to a time when my own son was around four, and my cousin's ex husband taught him his version of the song. My son was the only kid at school who knew the verse "The muggers on the bus say 'give me all your money' all day long."

Shortly into the trip, a woman and four very young children climbed the steps into the bus and paid their fares. The youngest was in a stroller but the other three cautiously made their way down the aisle of the bus, as it angled its way outward from the sidewalk and back into the flow of traffic. This sudden acceleration caused the bus to lurch slightly, and one of the little ones stumbled backwards when he turned around to make sure that his Mom was still nearby. He was an easy catch as he staggered into my outstretched arm. I helped him to steady himself, and the woman glanced over to me and smiled her "thank you."

The three older children took their places on a long, side-facing seat at the front of the bus. They immediately scrambled up onto their knees so that they could look out the window. Their mother took the next seat which faced front where she could keep an eye on them, and a firm grasp on the stroller holding her youngest child.

Throughout the trip, the children chattered to each other and to their Mom. Each of their questions and comments were met with a thoughtful response from their mother. Her pride showed in her eyes as she caught my smile while watching them. The kids were oblivious to my presence, even when I snapped a couple of photos with Mom's permission.


The interaction between parent and offspring was heartwarming. The four pre-schoolers were well-behaved, curious and bright. Mom was warm, available and proud. I felt grateful for the reminder that most parents do their best, and love unconditionally. This young family may not have known it, but they made my day.

Like last time, this bus trip was the start of my journey eastward to visit Frank for a couple of days. As usual, the photos below are from walks around his place. Please remember to click on them to enlarge.


The day before I arrived, this lovely historic town suffered a bad fire. Two of these 100 year old buildings were completely gutted, a feeling which I'm sure was shared by store owners and customers alike as their town is preparing for its 150 year anniversary this summer. We wandered through a few of the quaint shops directly across the street, which were open for business as usual, but the sadness and sense of loss among onlookers and passersby was palpable. By Thursday afternoon, the building was fully demolished. Click here for a view of this same street, just a few doors down, as it appeared to me in December.



Further east along this same main street, there's a cozy little tea house which recently opened for business. One full wall is dedicated to dozens of varieties and flavours of loose tea, which you can purchase in several sized packages. Their entrance way displays this unusual table and chair set, made from the wood of coffee bean plants.



As you can see by the above photo, they offer much more than tea. Along with appealing lunch items, they also have delicious homemade sweets such as tasty pecan butter tarts and dunk-worthy biscotti. As I was leaving with a package of tarts for that night's dessert, this "Daily Special" sign caught my eye. I hadn't had lunch yet, and the opening line seemed particularly friendly. I read it as "Homemade soup, Baby!" in a George Costanza kind of voice. It took a moment for me to realize that the use of "baby" was referring to the salad greens, and not their customers.



Heading out of the downtown area, a set of steep steps leads back to the wooded paths along the creek. The area is beautiful in any season, but the changes are quite startling as the spring foliage emerges and the rich green colours return.



Frank picked a bunch of these delicious fiddleheads the week before. By the time I took this photo, most of them had unfurled into the lovely ferns that will last through the summer. We boiled them until almost cooked, then sautéed them in butter, minced garlic and freshly-ground pepper. Once drained, you can also toss them in a dusting of Parmesan cheese which will cling to the unopened fronds. This springtime treat goes great with almost any dish.



This view of the creek urged me to stop and snap a photo. The trees have sprouted leaves, but are nowhere near as lush as they'll be in a week or two.



As I glanced out over the creek, this tree caught my eye. If you click to enlarge it, you'll see something red and white hanging from its branches, just a little left of center.



Zooming in, I could see that it was a wayward fishing float. I wonder if an avid angler will rescue it before it becomes completely hidden behind the growing foliage. I'm looking at you, Frank!



A walk in the woods is incomplete without the silly antics of a goofy JRT. Benny dares us to just try and take his stick. Don't even bother - you can't win. The puppy runs like the wind.



Back at Frank's place, he suggested that I take this shot as the late-day sun shone on this bare-boned chair. In a few weeks, it will be warm enough to grab a cushion and sit out there most any evening, while that night's dinner sizzles on the barbeque. He'd probably pop open a beer and I might pour a glass of wine as we both toast our appreciation to the return of warmer weather.

For amusing tales about walking with Benny, check out the most recent post (April 29) over at Frank's blog.

Family Bridges

"In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future."
~ Alex Haley

When it comes to having great families, I'm one of the lucky ones.

I have two healthy, intelligent and talented sons, both of whom are home for this holiday season. Their Dad and I separated several years ago, but remain good friends, and partners in parenting our boys. There isn't conflict or bitterness between us, so our respective extended families have always remained warm and welcoming to both of us for important events and occasions. Don is always invited along to my family's birthdays, pool parties and Hanukkah. And invitations to Thanksgiving, Christmas and his family birthdays have always been open for me. They're not just polite gestures either. Our families sincerely want the other to join in the festivities and remain a part of the circle.

Initially, we might have decided to stay friends because of the kids. Our boys were still in elementary school at the time, and if we couldn't give them a family that was intact, they were at least entitled to parents who were united in fulfilling what was in their best interest. It didn't take long for us to realize that it wasn't only for our sons' benefit, but also for our own, that we were able to hold onto the friendship and respect which weaves its way through our entire relationship. Whatever the glue, I value the connection we will continue to share when both of our kids are fully grown.

My own remaining family consists of my sister and her crew, two aunts and a collection of cousins and their own offspring and grandchildren. Between the first cousins on my Dad's side, our children range in age from mid-teens to mid-forties. Most of us, who have migrated from Montreal to parts of Ontario, get together a few times a year at one home or another. At our Hanukkah party this year, my cousin Frances marveled at how everyone who was not hindered by geographical distance, made a point of being there. At an age when most kids prefer to be doing almost anything else with their friends, ours all opted to be at a family party. That warms the heart.

Our babies have mostly grown up and have begun the process which tells us that we have been successful as parents. They have become independent. It's bittersweet, but it's right. No doubt they'll make mistakes that we can't prevent, and reach milestones of which we won't always be a part. Hearts will still be broken - our own along with theirs, but they're growing and learning, and doing exactly what they should be doing. Experiencing life.

It's often difficult for us to take that step back and accept that our influence was mostly in the past - that despite how much we want to say "Choose a safer career" or "You deserve better than him" or "Don't move so far from home", we simply have to trust that the lessons and morals we've instilled in them through their early years are enough to carry them through. Aside from wanting to keep them safe, healthy and happy, the best that we can hope for is that they continue to evolve and grow as individuals. And they will.

Family bridges extend themselves in many ways, through near and distant cousins, in-laws, dear friends, neighbours, online friends and those special individuals who have been given the honourary title of Aunt or Uncle.

Yesterday I received an email from Frank's younger son, whom I had just met for the first time a few days prior. He wanted to know what I thought of him and his brother. After expressing the warmth that I felt for the two of them, he replied with his own impressions of me. Among his many kind words he said "ur already family to me." That sentiment had to be among the best honours that has ever been bestowed upon me, and for many reasons, it means the world to me.

At this time of year when families get together, I hope you have a happy and safe holiday season, and I wish you the joy of being with the people you love. The people who call themselves Family.


Here are some photos that I took on my way to and around Bowmanville last week.

The day became snowy by mid-afternoon, but it started off with a fiery sun which painted the sky from behind the clouds. This was the view as seen from my desk chair at home.



On my way to Bowmanville, I took this shot through the window of the train, when we stopped briefly at a station along the way.



We saw many lovely sights when we took Benny for his daily walks among the cedars. The weathered trunk of this old tree attracted us with its expressive face. What does Benny see?



Snow-covered burrs cling to the last light of dusk.



Early the next morning...



Along the water's edge, trees reach out to greet each other from opposite sides of the creek.



This tree reminds me of an elephant, with the left-hand branch as his upraised trunk.



The snow began to fall lightly as we edged our way along the creek.



If you follow this bridge, it will lead you right into a Claude Monet painting...




...or perhaps downtown Bowmanville.




On our way back, I glanced up to find this hawk perched above my head.




An unusual splash of colour caught my eye as we neared the road. A lost helmet perches on a tree stump, waiting to be claimed.

I'll post more photos from my visit in a few days.