Hello out there. You haven't heard from me much; I haven't had much to say. BUT I think (I hope) I've reached a turning point in my 'stalled' career as a writer. Yup, I have dusted off the (far too many) starts I made over the last few years. I've been trying to get started with a book I've wanted to write since we completed our 'tour' down the coast of North America in our 32' sailboat SV Shannon. Life has kept me hopping and it is only now, today, that I am beginning to dust off and sort the pile of paper building in the corner of my office and see if there's anything worth saying. Please stay tuned on that front.
Before I move on, I should also mention I have a fresh batch of my first book, 'Vancouver's Women in Blue' the story of the history of the women who served with the Vancouver Police Department from 1904 to 1975. If you're a history buff or have a daughter, niece or grand-daughter, or friend who is wondering about a career in law enforcement, this book would be a great introduction to the challenging but rewarding career. I can provide reviews if you're interested and the book can be ordered through Ruddy Duck Press (www.ruddyduckpress.ca).
Now then, back to Dave. While going through my stacks of paper, I came across a short story I wrote on May 21, 2018. I'd forgotten about it so I read it through... and decided that you might like to hear it. I hope you enjoy my story about Dave but, if you don't, perhaps my next story will be more to your liking. Either way, thanks for your support. This is a crazy world right now and I'm happy to be able to send out a little cheer when I can... Cheers.. CJ
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May 21, 2018; I met a man named
Dave today…
He was on the
ferry with me, travelling from Chemainus to Thetis Island. We’d first spoken when he was at the kiosk
waiting to buy a ticket. I commented,
congratulated him really, on his new, beautiful trailer. It was rugged, built to haul anything, tandem
wheels, the whole bit. He was nice. We
exchanged smiles, and each went on our way; he to the head of the line-up, me
to wait at the top of the ramp – in the cold, damp, windy passengers’ waiting
place.
The ferry finally
arrived and I hustled into the ‘passenger lounge’, a rather dinghy place with
dirty windows and cold, hard seats. I
had company for a while; a precocious little girl (and her grandparents) who
finally smiled at me and we exchanged a few 4 year old pleasantries… like you
would :-)
The journey
continued and I settled in to a blank-eyed gaze out the smudged windows. At one
point I stood up to point out two kayakers to the little girl in pink. It was just about then that the trailer
fellow wandered into the lounge.
I’m not sure what
he was looking for, but he found ‘me’, and we engaged in a conversation that
rapidly picked up speed and carried us through for the rest of the trip. Seems he too had grown up in Vancouver and we
shared many of the same wonderful growing up kind of memories one collects and
hangs on to over the years. He remembered
when Robson St. had a European flavour and when trees still grew along the main
streets of downtown. We shared fond
memories of Granville St. and how, as you drove south towards Richmond you
could see the wood mill tower billowing smoke and sparks - and the green fields of the Chinese farms in
Richmond spreading to the horizon. We
commiserated over the loss of the original ‘Chicken Pickins’ at the White Spot
and how very special the south Granville White Spot had been. We even knew what was wrong with the chicken
pickins today’s White Spot tried to bring in.
Anyone could see the batter was too thick and the oil wasn’t hot enough…
yuk. Dave (that’s his name) even knew
the AAA beef the 'Spot' used in the old days and how, today, they’re using
anything but and having to cook it in a mixture of water and oil… to keep up
with the demand. Turns out Dave is a
very special kind of a person. And, as
we shared some memories of our youth and our lives, I came to feel pretty good
about him.
He admitted, in a somewhat
embarrassed kind of way, he only had Grade 9… that he was a hard worker and
always did his best but he just didn’t take to schooling. His parents finally pushed him to return to
school and so he picked one. He picked
cooking school and after he graduated from the course he got a job; washing
dishes at Lake Louise. He went to the
Lake and became the best darn dish washer they’d ever had. He was promoted and
promoted again. He ended up cooking and
he did well. He even cooked the lobster
for Queen Elizabeth when she visited Lake Louise so many years ago. Dave moved on and every time he moved, he
improved his lot in life. At one point he
and his brother were the owners of The
Old Bailey in Vancouver. I remember that well. It was a wonderful restaurant in the heart of
downtown and I went to it several times. He told me stories about some of his
customers and his love of serving fresh food.
We even discussed the merits of fresh fish and how fresh fish that’s
been on the bottom of the well, isn’t that fresh any more and often pretty
crushed from the weight of the others.
He shared with me that the fish flash-frozen at sea was still pretty
good though. Dave’s life continued. He moved to Christina Lake where he worked in
the Fire Department… and where he actually became the Regional Director (a very
prestigious position) at one point.
This fellow was
quite amazing. He told his story in a
very humble way; not bragging or embellishing, just telling me what he
did. He had lived on Thetis Island as well
(two properties down from my old friends who used to have a place on Pilkey
Point) but is now on the big Island.
He’s 77 and he’s still working.
He’s on the local volunteer fire department and he’s hauling soil, etc.
with his new trailer (which by the way has a hydraulic lifter for unloading…
very cool).
We spoke some more
about Vancouver and asked each other where we went to school. Turns out Dave
went to John Oliver Secondary for a few years before striking out on his
own. Turns out… Dave’s shop teacher… was
Mr. Ted Daley; my dad.
Dave’s eyes kind
of watered up when we made the connection.
Mine did too. We parted ways with a hand shake and a smile. It could have just as easily been a hug. I told him... “my dad would be very proud of
you for how you lived your life. Thank you for sharing your story”.
It’s nice to know,
and it’s humbling to meet, a man like Dave.
I’ll not forget him… as he hasn’t forgotten my pop.
