REMEMBER WHEN.........

This convenient package of Cinnamon Buns is available in all stores of course, and who doesn't love the spicy sweet taste of these oowey gooey puppies coming out of the oven? There's nothing new about Pillsbury products and they're a treat now and then, but back in the day, my grandmother liked nothing better than constantly trying something "new."

I'll never forget the first time she purchased a bag of frozen breaded chicken wings at Deveau's Grocery. We were in heaven! There were four or five of us counting Momma, and she had to divide them up to make sure she and all the rest of us got a couple. She heated them up on her old blackened cookie sheet in that trusty old wood stove, I can smell them yet. She served them with lots of mashed potatoes and canned peas. What a tasty meal, and frozen foods or convenience meals were just beginning their march across the country, and PEI was getting it's share. Momma used to pick up a couple of TV dinners when they arrived on our shores, (or at least at Eddie's), and we loved them. I'm sure by today's standards fast food like that was probably one molecule off of plastic, but it filled little bellies, and Momma loved new stuff.

She had a raging sweet tooth which she passed on to pretty well every one of her offspring. We all got it. There was a candy dish on her bureau that was kept full at all times, and as we grew and aged and got jobs and cars, we always made sure she had lots of whatever candy binge she was on at the time.

It might be Peanut Brittle this week.

Peppermint Patties the next week.

Then she might swing around and go for those big bags of pink Popcorn, boy she could go through bowls of those!

Didn't everyone's grandmother have one of these Carnival glass dishes? What a collectible they've become. Momma kept her's topped up, maybe with toffee, or maybe with those gorgeous colored Easter Eggs that we all loved. We all have our memories.

I wonder what ever became of that dish........

Every now and then we'd bring home some pop, and was there anything more delicious than that first drink of an ice cold bottle of Seaman's Orange? Oh my god.

Sweet. It even smelled good. Just carbonated enough. You know what I'm talking about. Nothing was really the same after Jean and Rundell gave it up. Cans do nothing for me, since you can't see what's at the bottom, and we've all read the horror stories. I always use a glass for the one or two times a year I might want a drink of pop. And Ginger Ale is my current favorite. And the little plastic bottles are great, but like my grandmother, I can taste the plastic. Snotty, aren't we? But she could and I can. There was never a plastic dish in the house when we were growing up, Momma didn't like them. And when I took over the housekeeping, I followed suit and only used real dishes, even when teaching our kids to drink from a cup. Funny the things you'll remember.

The only plastic, I suppose, was the play dishes I would get at Christmas time, after begging and pleading with Santa. And maybe the few "Melmac" pieces that would come as a premium in laundry detergent.

As I look out the window while writing this Blog, it is a dandy late January snowstorm, and the only thing moving on the Lower Road, besides my handsome son-in-law Jason, the Bell service guy, is Wilfie Deagle's snow blower, and Chapmans' plows.

Those big plows push a power of snow with that big wide blade and scraper, and every day now, another rig goes by regularly, and that is a truck plow with the sand on the back. I think essentially, they can push snow, but also distribute sand from a belly dump.

That truck is a one-man-show, where it used to take at least 3 men, sometimes 4, to do the same work.

Back a few generations ago, the winters were much harder than this, with almost immeasureable amounts of snow and wind. Lots of storms, with lots of men available for good work all winter. The sand truck was a necessary piece of road maintenance equipment. They needed a driver of course, and depending on the situation, a second driver, for relief, or as a spotter.

But the really miserable part of that job fell to the two guys on the back of the sand truck. One on each side, they shoveled off the sand in a kind of rhythmic pattern, steadily, port and starboard, starboard and port, until they ran out, and needed more.

Talk about a shitty job. They bore the brunt of the foulest weather, but no one thought anything of it, it was the way the roads were taken care of. Piercing wind chills, winds, howling snowfalls. They wouldn't even be able to keep a cigarette lit. But I'd bet that a lot of families kept some oil in the tank because the Dad manned the shovel for a winter.

And port and starboard, now that brings back a memory, clear as day! As a kid in swimming lessons, of course there's more to it than swimming, there was a fair bit of classroom to it also. Our classroom was the Souris legion, in those days, if the weather wasn't great for beach learning. Basic first Aid, swimming etiquette and good manners, but also boat safety.

And there was a test at the end to pass, but if you failed, horror of all horrors, NO BADGE!

So port and starboard, fore and aft. How to remember them all?

Fore and aft, not a problem, kinda made sense.

But how do port and starboard mean anything.

Then Momma said, "Go over and ask Mr. Roach. He might be able to help."

So over I went to visit Mr. Roach, who had spent his life at sea, as most of the Roach's at that time did. He was from Halifax but bought land from Momma and put up a small summer cottage, and a smoke house, and he loved it here. His wife, not so much, we didn't see her a lot.

Earl and Lilla, they were. But as kids, we never referred to them as anything but Mr. Roach, or Mrs. Roach. And I'm sure they never remembered any of our names.

So over I went and asked him how to remember the two terms, I just couldn't keep them straight.

"Oh, that's easy," he said, "Just remember that the word "left" has 4 letters and so does "port."

So, forever after I knew that starboard is the right side of the boat, and so on. And as with a lot of things we learn in life, that got me nowhere, not even a date. But oh well. I got my badge!!