Retro Saturday

Today's 'retro' piece is a pocket watch that belonged to Ron's grandfather, Arthur.

Arthur was a tailor in the town of Wolfville, Nova Scotia. He was born in 1885 to Irish parents who had left Ireland during the great Potato Famine. They settled in the Annapolis Valley.

Arthur's work enabled him to meet people from all 'walks' of life. Back then if a piece of clothing could not be made at home, then one would go to the local tailor to have it made.

I remember Ron's mother saying that her father made clothes for members of the legislature who were from Wolfville. He had a very good reputation and his work was impeccable.

One of the things he needed back then, besides a watch, was an iron.....to press-out the garment pieces and the finished article. This is one of the irons he had.

It was used as a door-stop for years. I wonder what the '18' means on the top? I can tell you that it is very heavy.

I hadn't realized that there were different types 'pocket watches' until I looked it up on line. After a little research I discovered that this watch is an 'open face case pocket watch'. It has no cover over the face. And it was built in 1906. Oh yes, it still works!

If you are interested to learn more about pocket watches, then click on the links below.

Check here and here.

Through The Sands Of Time.........

Last week I revealed in a post seven things that you may not have known about me. I did this because Inger, over at Desert Canyon Living, had given me an 'award'.

One of the things I revealed was that I had been abducted when I was 16 years old, along with my brother who was 13.

.........the year was 1966 and it was late spring. The year before my parents bought a house in Dartmouth which is the city across the harbour from Halifax where we had lived since I was born. 

I was just finishing up my last year, grade 12, at St. Peter's High School. This school was brand new to me in September and I felt like 'a fish out of water' for most of the year. But here it was May already!

I had gotten a call from my Halifax friends who were of course still attending my 'old' high school, St Patrick's High. They wanted me to go to a semi-formal dance at the school on a Friday night. I agreed that this would be fun and that I was sure I could get a car for the evening.

I had asked Dad, who was always good for a car if we, my sister Jo-Ann and I, asked for one. You see, my Dad was a cars-salesman and always  had cars at his disposal....heaven for us at this age!!!! He said he would get me one. Great!

A day or so before the dance, my brother, Dennis, announced that he was going to a dance at his 'former' junior high in Halifax on the same night. He needed a 'lift' to and from. OK with me.

Friday evening came and I dropped Dennis off at his location agreeing to pick him up at about 11 P.M. I really can't remember much about the dance I went to other than it was good to spend some time with all my friends once again.


So I picked up Dennis and I headed towards the bridge that links the cities of Halifax and Dartmouth. As we were approaching the bridge I noticed that there was a teenager 'thumbing' a ride whom I assumed needed a ride across the bridge.

I pulled over next to a wall that separated the bridge traffic from another street. The boy hopped into the back seat. But, before he closed the door he signaled to three of his friends to get in as well!


I knew this was potentially not a good thing and told them that I had only stopped for one of them. They assured us that all they wanted was a lift to as far as we were going. I started to think very quickly and thought that I would drop them off at the foot of our street. I didn't want them to know where we lived.

So to the foot of the street we arrived. I pulled the car over to the curb and said that this was as far as we were going. In an instant, one of them grabbed me by the throat and pulled me back towards

the back seat.....all along my foot was trying to press on the brake to keep the car from moving

forward.

Dennis had been hauled into the back seat by one of them and held in a head lock with  a knife to his throat!! The guy who held me jumped over the seat into the front with me.  He said to drive!


I did and was watching poor Dennis in the back through the rear-view mirror looking terrified! I said they could have the car if they let us go. No doin'. They said to head the airport.

The airport was about a 45 minute drive from Dartmouth. So I drove, thinking that Dad was having a fit with worry because we were late which was unusual for us. My main concern was getting us out of the car safely.


It was getting late by the time we got near the airport and it was pitch dark. In order to get to the you needed to turn off the main highway. They said to keep going past! I was getting a little panicky by now and starting to fear for our lives actually.


All of a sudden one of them said to stop the car. I pulled over onto the shoulder and they said to get out! They warned us not to say a thing or else they would find us and we'd be sorry. I thought, YES! Dennis and I jumped out as fast as we could and started to run along the shoulder back towards the airport which we could see in the distance.

But before we could get very far the boys turned the car around in the middle of the highway and headed right for us! Seriously, they wanted to hit us! They tried this a couple of times until they squealed off into the night heading for Halifax.


We needed to get to a phone to let Dad know what had happened and that we were alright. The only place was the airport. So we ran across a very long marsh towards the lights in the distance. By this time it was after 1 A.M. and I wasn't sure if we could get inside of the place. 


We looked through some doors and could see that the only people there were a couple of RCMP officers talking with each other. For some reason I told Dennis not to say anything to them until we spoke to Dad. I found a pay-phone and called Dad.

He was by the phone and answered immediately. I told him what had happened and he said he'd be there right away. I really can't remember if the RCMP officers approached us on not....I don't think so. They just looked over at us occasionally.


Dad arrived and we told him the whole story. It was about 3 A.M. by the time we got back to Dartmouth and Dad had already called the police to report what had happened. They wanted him to bring us into the station. Dennis and I were exhausted by then.


The detective wanted to see us separately. I was first and I told him exactly what had happened. Then it as Dennis' turn. He told them what had happened.

Problem was we had different accounts of the same story! The 'time line' was not the same. The stories were different enough to cause the detective to suspect the truth of our story. He told us that we were lying. And that we actually had hit a car around 11 P.M. and panicked and made up this whole thing!


I was tired and furious at this accusation! My Dad had to warn me to be careful of what I may say to the detective. But I wouldn't retract my story and said that it was what had happened. It was 5 A.M. by the time he said for us to go home and he would be in touch with my Dad.

Too long story short.......the boys had ditched the car in Halifax and it was not damaged. This fact made it clear to the detective that we didn't hit another car that night. The police knew who to question because by mid Saturday afternoon they had the boys in custody! One of their parents called Dad and pleaded with him not to press charges. He didn't, but his boss did because it was a company car that we had and it was stolen.


To this day I have never picked up another hitchhiker. And I have often wondered why Dennis' story was different from mine. I asked him this but he always claimed that that was how he saw it. I think he was so scared and  was still in shock when being questioned by the detective.

              Sand at the dunes on Conrad's Beach today.

OOPPS!

Just published an unfinished post by mistake folks! Please ignore. Thanks. The post will be ready a little later than usual.   Damn keyboard!

Thoughts On War

Not having experienced a war first hand, and living through a period, the Vietnam War, in which a lot of kids my age were being killed for their country, and seeing a lot of kids 'dodging' their drafts and coming to live in Canada for their own reasons, having grown up listening to the horrifying stories my father experienced during his stay in London during the Second World War, and always feeling that war is an unjustified means to an end, I find myself thinking about the justification of my country getting involved with other countries to put an end to Gadhafi's violence against his people.


That first sentence is a very long one but was intentional on my part. My mind has been racing lately trying to come to terms with how I really feel about war. At first I felt that we were justified in attempting to put an end to Gadhafi's rule in Libya.


I thought that it was our duty to stop a tyrant's persecution of his own people. And the fact that there is a United Nation's Resolution 1973, to approve aggression on any country that is participating in 'large scale' attacks on civilians, I thought that if the UN is sanctioning this then it must be alright and justified.

On Monday I wanted to use a quote for my Contemplative Monday post that summed up my feelings on war and one that I 'could live with'.


I looked through some books I have hoping to find exactly what I wanted. Nothing. Then I thought I would 'google' it.....'war quotes'.


There were hundreds! And a lot by Abraham Lincoln I noticed, as well as by Albert Einstein. Both very smart and learned men and both whom I admire.


But I still couldn't find something that suited what I wanted to say. You see, I wanted someone to say that war was okay under certain circumstances and would fit the situation in north Africa perfectly.


I soon realized that this was not the case for the parameters I had set. This was also verified when I came to a lone quote by the Dalai Lama. Basically it said that there was no justification to war no matter the circumstances. For the exact quote click here.

I realized I had been trying to justify for the past few days the actions taken by my country and others because I felt really bad for the people who were being persecuted. And I still do. I thought that two wrongs would make a right.


I know that not everyone feels this way. In fact, I realize that not too many people feel this way at all!  


I think that there are other ways to end violence, and war is not one of them. Peaceful negotiation is one way to do it. It will probably take a very long time for this to ever happen and become a viable way to end conflict in this world of ours but it has to start sometime. And now is the best time.


By just saying that it would never work and that it is a very naive notion particularly in this day and age, is, I feel, a complete cop-out. Think of future generations. Imagine what it would be like for them to never have to fear and experience the violence of war like most of us do every day of our lives.....either on the 'front lines' or looking at it on television.


I was feeling very angry at Gadaffy and others like him. Then I realized he was just 'part' of the problem that has been perpetuating itself for millennia.


Wishful thinking? Absolutely not. We as a species are much more capable of controlling our destiny than for which we give ourselves credit.

Contemplative Monday

Full moon, 19 March 2011.


All forms of violence, especially war, are totally unacceptable as means to settle disputes between and among nations, groups and persons.

~Dalai Lama

Full moon. (both photos 'hand-held')

Sunday's Selection

I wish these three women would produce another CD/album! Linda Ronstadt, Dolly Parton and Emmy Lou Harris are a formidable trio when it comes to harmony.


Enjoy and have a great Sunday.

Retro Saturday

The Blue Plate

On the way home yesterday from a hike in Point Pleasant Park in Halifax we stopped by a 'thrift' shop, sort of in the neighbourhood.

I went immediately to the dish/glass section and spotted this blue glass, dessert serving-plate. It was in pretty good condition with a small amount of wear along the gold gild trim.

I checked the price.....$5.00.....showed it to Ron and we both thought that it was a 'keeper'.

Now to try and figure out its age. At first I thought that it was at least from the sixties. But now I am thinking it could be earlier, maybe the forties.

I can't base this on anything other than from the 'wear' along the edge which tells me that it was used quite a bit........the paint/colouring used on these plates could withstand a lot of wear and tear.

I often wonder where the items, I buy at these places, come from, and who owned them. What were the circumstances that got them to this 'thrift' shop?


Obviously most, if not all, of the items come from estates in which families just want to get rid of everything and donate them, say, to the Salvation Army or another charity.  Also a lot of the items are 'dropped off' by individuals who are 'clearing out' their homes.....de-cluttering, so to speak!

In any case, I enjoy speculating about and appreciating the history behind these things. I am also a sucker for colour! And I feel this plate 'fits the bill'.