Thursday, or Thereabouts - March 23, 2023

Most mornings I wake up with a tune playing in my head. It might be an orchestral piece but most often it is a song and barring any upheavals during the day, this music sets the tone for my day. This morning as I walked from bed to bathroom, I did so to the tune of the Banana Boat song bubbling around in my brain.Here's the song made famous by Harry Belafonte in 1956 - have a listen:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYYkJ0kwNss

It was a regular occurrence in my childhood home for either one of my parents to suddenly break into song and this tune popping into my head this morning took me back to any Saturday morning in that living room. My sisters and I are sitting around quietly doing our own things, my mother in the kitchen clearing away breakfast dishes when Dad ambles into the living room without any apparent purpose, stops then BELLOWS,  "Day-O! Day-ay-ay-o!" 

We all knew the song so well, that once we recovered from the surprise, we jumped to our feet singing along, "Daylight come and me wan' go home..." and forming up a conga line dance behind my Dad, a turn of two around the living room before moving through the hall to the kitchen, through the dining room and back to the living room. Such great fun!

A happy welcome to Puerto Limon, Costa Rica, Feb. 21, 2023

Singing was an integral part of all family gatherings. A lull in the conversation, especially if the subject matter had become controversial or solemn, provided the perfect opportunity for someone one in the clan to break into song, or even just begin humming one. That's all it took. We all joined in, some introducing a little harmony, some inventing new words to throw us off and evoke uproarious laughter. Such great fun. Such joyous memories on this rainy day. 

I'm off to do a few more calypso turns around the kitchen, then on with my day. Cheers!

©2023 April Hoeller

 

Thursday, or Thereabouts - June 13, 2019

Remembering Dad

In 1914, 30% of households had a telephone and 20% had electricity; less than 20% had a cooking stove and less than 10% had a car. The crackle of radios, the hum of refrigerators, and the gurgle of clothes washers had yet to enter homes.

Jim and Ella Cudbird of Carlaw Avenue in Toronto welcomed a son into this world on December 4, 1914. They named him Beverley Swann Vassar Cudbird.

Dad with his Mum - Spring/Summer 1915

First Day of School - September 1919

His eyes were on the clouds and stars as he went on to university. Meteorology won over astronomy and so began his career as a weatherman.

1937 - Trinity College, U. of T.

He married his "American Beauty" in November 1944 then swept her off to Newfoundland, where he was posted during WWII.

After the war, they lived in Ottawa for a time where, in 1947, their first daughter was born. The 1950s saw the family settling in the Toronto suburb of Etobicoke. Two more daughters were born, me in 1953 and my younger sister in 1959.

1962 - Dad's girls

Dad's career progressed at great speed as computers began to appear. He was a key figure in the development of weather data processing techniques. In the 1960s that expertise took him to Nigeria to assist in that country's entry into the digitizing of weather data. For this work, the federal government awarded him the Canadian Centennial Medal in 1967 for having provided valuable service to the country.

My wedding in 1975 offered the perfect opportunity to wear the medal.

A cancer diagnosis in the late 1970s did not stop Dad from doing what he loved - forecasting the weather. He retired from Environment Canada and became the staff meteorologist for radio station CFRB. I like to think he pioneered that media role. Of course, radio has some definite advantages over TV; presenters don't have to worry about what they're wearing, and as in my Dad's case, one doesn't even have to be in the studio. Most of Dad's broadcasts came from the upstairs den in my parents' condo in Etobicoke. If you listened carefully to some of those broadcasts you could hear the chattering of the two teletype machines that spewed out the latest observations and forecasts on reams of newsprint paper.

Dad inspired my love of photography. He began with 35mm slides to which in the sixties, an 8mm movie camera was added along with a "portable" tape recorder, all of which were slung over and around his shoulders throughout the family trip to Europe in 1964.

Dad also loved Dixieland Jazz, Willie Nelson, and military brass bands, especially the Coldstream Guards. Broomstick in hand (instead of a rifle), he marched around the living room often with his daughters following in behind. Sometimes he added a deliberate and exaggerated limp to his step.



He loved the New York Mets but was happy to embrace the Toronto Blue Jays - as long as the Mets weren't in town!











I find it hard to believe that he's been gone since the Spring of 1984. Seems like just yesterday he and I took to the waves off Breezy Point.

Happy Father's Day, Dad! 

©2019 April Hoeller

Thanksgiving Day - October 8, 2018

Today is
"...a day of General Thanksgiving to Almighty God for the bountiful harvest with which Canada has been blessed."
So reads the decree enacted by Parliament in 1879. Though the date has moved around a little - at first it was November 6, then it was the 3rd Monday in October - on January 31, 1957, the government proclaimed that National Thanksgiving be celebrated on the 2nd Monday of October.

Back when I was growing up, there was never any thought of celebrating on any other day than the officially decreed Monday. It mattered not a whit that folks had to be rough and ready for work the next morning, or that kids had to be up and out to school. Thanksgiving back then was a single day, a great day of family and food complete with all the good china and silverware, and of course, we ate in the dining room.

Saturday was spent grocery shopping and silver polishing, If we did a really good job on the silver for Thanksgiving, only a few touch-ups would be needed for the Christmas feast! Sunday was for church, and maybe even a trip to the Royal Ontario Museum afterward. In the afternoon, Mom made the pies.

On Thanksgiving Monday, "the bird" - always at least a 22 pounder! - had to be stuffed and in the oven by 9am. My mother was in the kitchen shortly after 7 in the morning and didn't leave it until supper was served at 6 and then she was back in there cleaning up until late. Honestly I don't know how she did it all. No microwave ovens, no automatic dishwasher, no convection oven, and one small fridge, with a 1 cubic foot freezer section. Yet it was always a feast of plenty including leftovers for turkey sandwiches, turkey stew, or pot pie during the week. And she loved every minute of it, but perhaps not so much the clearing up, for which my Dad was conspicuous by his absence...
"Lovely meal Irene, now I'm going to bed."
Yeah, that was Dad, but to be honest I'm not sure how welcome he was in Mom's kitchen.

For both the indigenous tribes and the early newcomers to this land, this time of year was one of both deepest gratitude and fervent hope. Come wind, come weather the land had yielded her best and barns were more or less full. But would the bounty be enough to sustain life through a winter of unknowns?

I have not known such a tenuous life, none of my family have. Sure, we've had our struggles, our lean times, but we've always been able to gather together at Thanksgiving amid an embarrassment of riches. I am as humbled as I am grateful for this bounty. I've companioned others whose lives been flipped upside down by a sudden reversal of fortune and I'm now of a great enough age to be keenly aware that good living does not grant any immunity from calamity down the road. A winter of unknowns may give warning but never asks permission to visit, let alone stay a while.

In my heart and home, today is a day to kick back, relax, enjoy and reflect. Our family celebration was on Saturday. It was a feast of plenty, a cornucopia overflowing with good conversation, great laughs, and the best company.

I am so very thankful on this day for my family, my friends, our health and prosperity. I am truly grateful "for the bountiful harvest with which Canada has been blessed."

Happy Thanksgiving, eh!

Thursday, or Thereabouts - September 6, 2018

On this day...
      ...A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away

White lace and promises

a kiss for luck...

...and we're on our way.

We'd only just begun.

Three years later, we cleared the land on a property on Cherry Street.

And built a house.

September 1978

1978 - With Gramps the Engineer

May 1980 - Norbert and my Dad

May 1980 - Mom & I

Then we got a dog of course: Sheba our first German Shepherd.

Children took a little longer, but arrive they did.

January 1985

March 1985

March 1987

Christmas 1987

We grew, we traveled.
.

Austria 1996

Spain 2005

We walked two dogs across the rainbow bridge when their time came, Sheba and Sasha.

#3 - Sophie is keeping us in line these days.

Sasha

Sophie

Cuba 2012

The house got a make-over and then a sunroom.

Wedding bells rang out again, and we grew some more.

June 2011

July 2015

July 2015

So here we are in 2018, 43 years later and still traveling together.

Iceland - June 2018

"Sharing horizons that are new to us
Watching the signs along the way
Talkin' it over, just the two of us
Workin' together day to day
Together, Together."




Songwriters: Roger S. Nichols / Paul H. Williams; performed by The Carpenters













©2018 April Hoeller