Pocket knife

As far back as I can remember my grandfather Hubert carried an old wooden and brass handled knife in his pocket. Often times I would see him sitting outside widdling a small stick with it ( or scratching at his fingernails ha ha). That pocket knife, sadly, belongs to me now.

My grandfather passed away May 25. He was 85 years old. He had been ill for a while, but was doing a lot better in the long term care facility where he spent the last 2 months or so. It happened very quickly, we were told he was in no pain.

Pop was the father to 12 children, the grandfather of 23, the great-grandfather of 27, and the great-great-grandfather to four.

I sat down and figured out all those numbers a couple nights ago because no one had ever tried to. I told my Aunt, whom was closest to him besides his wife Doris of 63 years, and my Aunt said, “Jeez, someone was busy.”

It has been a sad few days for the Poole family. Siblings are starting to drive back to their homes again, and I can’t help but feel a big tear in my heart when I look at my Nan. She’s going through a lot of things now, I really hate to say good bye.

Here’s a picture that I took for her, her request. Here are 10 of her 12 children, the ones who were able to make it to Pop’s funeral.

Because they lived.

I was thinking tonight, as I placed an overflowing amount of towels in the washer, how good we really have it. I know, I know, the topic isn’t new, but can you really see yourself washing clothes with a wash-board and pail? Can you really see yourself wringing out pants and shirts until your knuckles were white — for hours? How about this, can you see yourself raising 12 kids? No? me neither.

Our grandparents had guts.

The common theme amongst the 70, 80 and 90 year olds is that ‘kid’s these days don’t know how good they got it.’

And you know what? they’re abso-fucking-lutely right. I cannot imagine being in my 20 year old grandmother’s shoes today. I’m perfectly comfortable sitting here at my laptop, pissing away an hour on facebook while my laundry is done for me in the designated room, just for laundry. I am heartbroken when I think about all the things she and my grandfather sacrificed to get us where we are today.

I learned alot from my grandmother when I took care of her in the summer months of the earlier years of the new millennium. She taught me how to cook Pea’s soup, how to sew properly, how to ‘talk back’ at ‘back talk’ and how important it was to put your clothes on the clothes line with the smallest items first so that ‘the bigger towels don’t get caught up in the trees.’

I think the most valuable lesson I learned was the comfort found in silence. In between vacuuming carpets, polishing floors, stirring soups, dusting tables, sorting pill containers and flicking channels, I saw my grandmother in the truest sense.

Sitting in ‘her chair’ by the bay window, staring out over the Harbour and across to Frankie’s Cove, in complete silence. Occasionally stroking her hair or fixing a loose thread on a throw cushin, she just sat. A hundred things probably poured through her mind, but she just sat. At ease, dignified, and said everything she needed to say just with a smile.

My grandfather was the same. Amongst all my chores my favorite was pinning out the clothes. As I mentioned before, extreme care had to be taken about which items were to go on the line first. My grandmother had a pulley line, but also stationary lines that were held up in the middle with wooden poles.When I went out by the woodshed to pin out the delicates I would always catch a glimpse of my grandfather in the doorway of his shed, tapping his feet to some unknown jigg that plays everlasting in his mind. Whistling along as he spoke to his ancestors, still very much alive, along the shoreline.

When I think about home those are the things that I know best. That, and gallavanting along the shores of Shoal Point with my beloved dog, Kimo. It’s been 13 months since Kimo ran away, never to be found. At 15 we all know in the back of our minds that he ran away to die, trying not to burden us with his body — but oh how I wish he did, I wish so much that I had somewhere to go to say goodbye, and hello from time to time.

When I think about home these are the things I will always cherish. No matter how grey the clapboard gets, no matter how many patches of rot show up on the baseboard lines, no matter how many times I stroll across the marsh and through the graveyard to greet the sun & waves, alone. These are the memories that keep my heart beating.


Thirteen hundred

It doesn’t seem like it was that long ago that I was writing my ‘800’ post. Thank you for making my blog what it is. Honestly, if the hits weren’t climbing I might not be as inclined to come back and post, albeit slow lately.

My second week has past with the local newspaper, still liking my job. Two more weeks to go and then the job search begins. My ideal summer jobs: Carleton Cards or Library Assistant. I’m going to try for both.

I picked up a book while in Corner Brook last weekend, it’s called “Unfinished Business” by James Van Praagh. I’ve only got chapter one down so far, it’s interesting to say the least. It’s about learning from the dead through James, a medium.

Well, as all my Sunday’s go lately, I’m off to continue with the laundry and cleaning in preparation for this weeks coming neglect.

Attached is a photo NOT taken by me. I just love it.

The real world

Well hello there! nice to see you back at my blog again. If you’re scratching your head saying, “I wasn’t here before? Whas you talkin’ about?,” then thanks for taking your first look.

I’ve been really busy lately with my workterm at a local paper, been out getting stories and taking pictures. It’s a good ride so far, hoping things keep on the same path. The editor and staff are very friendly and helpful, and the atmosphere is really easy going.

But I do spend a good chunk of my time on the computer, so right now I’m going to log off this baby and go spend some time with real people, and my cat.

Here’s a pic I took along my journeys today.

Hard sun


When I walk beside her
I am the better man
when i look to leave her
I always stagger back again

Once I built an ivory tower
so I could worship from above
when I climb down to be set free
she took me in again

There’s a big
a big hard sun
beating on the big people
in the big hard world

When she comes to greet me
she is mercy at my feet
I see her inner charm
she just throws it back at me

Once I dug an early grave
to find a better land
she just smiled and laughed at me
and took her rules back again


Once I stood to lose her
and I saw what i had done
bowed down and threw away the hours
of her garden and her sun

So I tried to want her
I turned to see her weep
40 days and 40 nights
and its still coming down on me