Susanna's Sketchbook

April 30, 2012

This past Friday night, J and I stopped by a local pub and I noticed a brick wall in the back that was covered with signatures. It's a great idea, isn't it? If I had a brick wall like that or I suppose, a wall I wouldn't mind painting over every January, I would ask guests to sign their name on it after dinner. At the end of the year, it would be an interesting "guest book".

For the last ten years, whenever I've gotten together with friends for a special dinner, I've asked them to sign their names and mark the date on the wine cork. I have corks from holidays to hurricanes... I thought that framed together, the corks would make a cool piece of artwork but then I saw this on etsy. Isn't it beautiful? I wonder if she accepts commissions...?

April 21, 2012: On very windy and stormy days (written by my mother)

When we were growing up, we didn’t have lots of money and things but I can remember treats that didn’t cost money-wise but were extremely thrilling and entertaining. For something exciting on very windy and stormy days, mother would take us five children in the car. We would have on our rain slickers and our rain hats and our gum boots. She would drive us down Douglas Street to Dallas Road, the waterfront in Victoria. It was a cliff and the Strait of Juan de Fuca was the waterway or the ocean between Vancouver Island, Canada, and Washington State, USA.

On very windy and stormy days, fishing boats, tug boats and cargo ships had a very hard time buffeting the wind. Sometimes they were warned to take shelter. I remember hearing of one shipping boat that sank out in the Strait.

Towards Ross Bay, the land lowered and there was a cement retaining wall put in to preserve the earth from the violent wind storms. They tell us that often from those early days, graves from Ross Bay Cemetery were washed off and the bones were carried many blocks away. Today, with all the modernizations, I’m told that it is very protected.

Mother would park the car in a safe place and we children would get out and run into the splashed up waters from over the retaining walls.  It was a game of DARE!, hoping we wouldn’t get soaked or knocked down by the wind. We would also stand there when we knew the next big wave would come crashing over the retaining wall.  I loved those stormy days in Victoria!

March 29, 2012: The Door in the Hill

Last week, J and I drove up to Canada for a week-long visit with our families. While he spent most of the time with his parents, I went on to stay with my mom to help her prepare for an upcoming move. Figuring out what to keep, donate or throw out can take so much time and be emotionally exhausting! But it has to be done and if we start early, then there won't be any confusion later on...right?

Amongst the mess of going through boxes, there were fun moments. My mom is taking a writing course at the local seniors center called "Write It Now" (WIN) where seniors are encouraged to write down their life stories. I love that she is taking this course!

One of her stories took place during the 60's when my dad, a Canadian Air Force Captain, my mom and two older siblings were stationed in Holland. (M and I hadn't been born).

That day, a family friend took them on a drive into the countryside near Valkenburg. Far in the back of a farmer's field was a small hill with a little forest of trees growing on top. And on the side of the hill was a door.

My parents friend described how during WWII, one could climb up the roots of the trees to the top of the hill and from there, see the frontline battles between the Americans and the Germans.

At night, under the cover of darkness, wounded American soldiers were taken across the farmer's fields to the hill. It was all very hush hush amongst the locals but they knew that hidden within the hill was a room. The earth had been pounded into walls and a floor and there, doctors performed emergency surgeries on the wounded soldiers.

I couldn't believe that I hadn't heard about this place before! It's something straight out of a book or a movie. But then, since my mom started this course, I'm hearing more stories that stop me in my tracks and think, What?! When did THAT happen?!! Maybe it's the act of sitting down and writing that is bringing back these memories for my mom. It's interesting that at a time when we were going through real boxes of momentos, deciding what to keep or not to keep, that in my mom's mind there are (as I like to imagine, boxes of ) memories that should never be forgotten.