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What brands do you associate with?

Daily writing prompt

What brands do you associate with?

What brands do you associate with?

I have been thinking about my parents a great deal recently. Earlier this week it was my my mother’s birthday. She would have been 110 years old. Funny how, as we age, our own minds turn back to the past. So, today’s prompt – What brands do you associate with? – gets an instant answer – none really.

And yet, and yet, there is one. A long, long time ago, my father let me into a big secret: all the shops in our little sea-side town had signs that announced – Jones and Son, or Roberts and Son, or Edwards and Son. “Well, son,” he said, “I have a son, and it’s you. It is time I showed you my little secret.” He took out his pen, unscrewed the cap, and carefully drew an M. Then he drew a W beneath it, taking care that the ends joined neatly. Finally he drew the letter J. It bisected the letters so that the drawing in my painting above was produced: blue-black ink on white paper. “What is it dad?” I asked. “It’s my brand,” he proudly said. “Those are my initials. “I would love to establish something, use this as a brand name, and have ‘and Son‘ written beneath it.”

I didn’t understand. I can’t remember how old I was, but it was in the days when Shorty the Deputy [I pronounced it De-Putty, much to the amusement of my elders] Sherriff ruled the range in my colored comic books. “A brand? Why do you want a brand? Are you going to own a ranch and brand your cattle?” That ended the conversation. The brand was never mentioned again, until, now, but I have never forgotten it.

So, there is one brand with which I associate myself, my father’s brand. I entitled the painting remeMBEr in honour of my father, of his failed dreams, and of the dreams he achieved, including the initials MBE [Member of the British Empire]. The medal itself, together with the letter from King George VI is included among my family treasures. So, there we go – that’s the brand I associate with, my father’s brand.

Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.

Daily writing prompt

Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.

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Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.

I wish I had learned earlier how hard it is to grow old and how difficult it is to prepare for it. My first serious rugby injury, age 16, torn cartilage in left knee. Doctor’s advice: give the game up now. Later, you’ll regret it if you don’t. My response: I’m tough. 60+ years later, my left knee still creaks and I rub ointment in every morning. My second serious rugby injury, age 20, damaged lower back. Doctor’s advice: give the game up now. You’ll regret it later if you don’t. My response: I’m tough. 60 years later, my back really hurts. I rub ointment in every morning, take pain killers, and stretch. Same with hips, from kicking! One of my rugby friends, about the same age as me, has two knee replacements, one shoulder replacement, and one hip replacement. If he’s not the $6,000,000 man, he must be pretty close.

But there is a story beyond that story. I was sent to a series of boarding schools and no, I didn’t go there willingly. In the summers, I travelled abroad to learn foreign languages that were foreign to others but became familiar to me. I never saw my grandparents as they aged. Often, when they died, I was in school, or away on the continent. I never understood the ageing process. I never witnessed the natural decay of those whom I loved. I never learned that lesson. When I left university, I emigrated, and the same sequence happened with my parents. I was never there when it mattered. I was always somewhere else. And when I was there, I heard the usual litanies: “This never happens when you are not here. It’s your fault.” Or else, “this wouldn’t have happened if you had been here.” Told to me by a close relation at my mother’s funeral. I flew back home, though it was never really my home, to be present for that.

But what is the lesson that I wish I had learned earlier? Alas, there is not just one lesson, but a series of lessons. How to deal with the ageing process. How to face sickness and ill health in age. How to face diminishment with grace and humor. How to accept the natural process that occurs whether we want it to or not. How to face the gradual decline in someone, close to you, your life companion whom you really love. How to face the fear of passing (FOGO to some) and how to pass that lesson on to our own young ones. How to face my own end and how to die with as much dignity as possible.

What’s your all-time favorite album?

Daily writing prompt

What’s your all-time favorite album?

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What’s your all-time favorite album?

My stamp album, of course. I am old enough to remember the joy of receiving letters from friends and pen-pals in far-away places with strange sounding names and oh, the joy of those colored squares of paper stuck in the top, right hand corner of the envelopes.

Then there were stamp dates, and stamp parties, where we gathered and swapped stamps, each trying to improve his or her collection. Not that I remember many young ladies saving stamps in those days, it seemed to be a boys only sport, like Conkers. I guess that was because those games were all dependent on one-up-man-ship. And yes, we have boycotts (some of them even open the batting for England), but I have never heard of girlcotts or one-up-woman-ship. I guess there are flaws in the language, all languages. Ceilings as well, probably – the height of linguistic folly.

Then there were stamp competitions when we could take our collections, more or less specialist, and show them off to our friends, admirers, and bitter rivals, hoping to gain fame and fortune. I for one never did. But I learned so much about the world, the rapidly changing world, as maps changed, borders changed, kings and queens changed, countries changed their names, divided their borders and morphed into something else.

Don’t forget those FDCs – First Day Covers – with their postal histories, not to mention the little booklets with the tear-out pages telling us all about Peter Rabbit, Flopsy Bunny, Mrs. Tiggy Winkle. and a dozen other tales. And then there were the special stamps – the penny blacks with their multiple Maltese Crosses, the Queen Victoria 9d green (mint), the Sea Horses, the French Painting Series, the Spanish Civil War stamps, issued on, and by, both sides of the conflict, and you mustn’t forget my own face as it appears on a Mexican do-it-yourself stamp, photo taken in Oaxaca, and the stamp sent back to Fredericton, NB, Canada, just for the fun of it.

My own stamp collection now sits in a cupboard, all covered in dust. I guess it is worthless. Nobody sends or receives letters anymore. Nobody collects stamps. Used stamps are now so much rarer. And those pristine new issues, so bright and cheerful, have never felt the lick of a lover’s tongue. And those envelopes have never borne the imprint of our secret messages – SWALK – PHTR – ICWTSY – and so many other little joys of a life that is long past, but never forgotten.

How do you relax?

Daily writing prompt

How do you relax?

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How do you relax?

I take a relaxative.

Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.

Daily writing prompt

Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.

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Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.

Once upon a time, I lay in the sea, at midnight, in Brandy Cove, and I watched the moonlight lap over the waves as I lay there. I began to relax and felt the moon rise. Then I rose up with it, just like Cyrano de Bergerac, and I rose, rose, rose, up into the sky until I was level with the moon.