Making It Up As I Go Along #321

MONDAY...
— Busy day down the Southern Shore. We drive down looking at icebergs... seeing a moose... and having lunch at Ferryland. Lots of fog and sun comes and goes through the day.
— Supper downtown tonight and a drive up to Signal Hill after that. It’s the thickest fog I ever see on top of Signal Hill. Dad and I got out of the car and couldn’t even see dim shades of light when looking down at the city. And from only five feet in front of the car, it’s like a blizzard of cloud blowing past the hood of the car. The only way we can drive up and down the hill is by slowly following the white line on the side of the road.
— Saw an old supervisor of mine today. Karl (from my Grand Concourse days) just happens to be walking down Water Street as we’re walking up. Pretty neat running in to him.

TUESDAY...
— Dad and I do lunch in the Goulds (at Bidgoods). Go from there to Cape Spear for a look around and some pictures. Then over to Fort Amherst for more time looking at bergs and taking pictures. A good day for all that.
— Supper tonight is with mom and dad at the Keg. Stuffed full by the end of this. We visit the Lafosses and then waddle home. A great full moon tries calling me to Cape Spear again, for a night time look at it all over the ocean. But it’s late and I’m stuffed and tired.

WEDNESDAY...
— Quiet day really. Did lunch with Jim and stuck around the house in the afternoon as it gets cold and rainy. Lobster for supper and some evening TV.

THURSDAY...
— Windy day. Dad and I meet mom and the university around lunch time. Get lunch and buy some clothes at the bookstore (a couple of shirts, track pants and shorts).
— Out alone for a bit after that. Middle Cove, Outer Cove, Marine Drive.
— Del gets me for supper. Down to his place, meet the wife... BBQ pork chops... some beer... and off to his buddy’s poker game. I finish 6th of 8... but it’s still fun.

FRIDAY...
— Fairly quiet day. I go to lunch with Bev and then hang out at the house for the rest of the day. It’s pretty rainy in the afternoon. So with mom and dad having meetings, I’m home alone with some TV and leftover turkey to eat. A little walk around the neighbourhood at night, after the rain has stopped.

SATURDAY...
— Out with Jim and the boys in the morning. Some playing around with golf followed by the new Indiana Jones movie. The movie has it’s moments... a bit of an adventure romp... but doesn’t touch the first or third movies in the series.
— Downtown in the evening with mom. Supper at the stadium followed by Bob Dylan in concert. A fine show. I could have hoped for more of his haunting type of music. There was some of that but more old style rock n’ roll. Still, a fine show all the same.


Rural Gulls
Seagulls sound different by the sea.

I never noticed it before my late night walk around my childhood streets. In fact, I remember when I moved to Ottawa, I thought “I won’t be around seagulls anymore.” It was naive to think they wouldn’t have migrated inland themselves... colonizing rivers and ponds much like people did, back in the day, with paddle and canoe.

And seeing seagulls in Ottawa, I never noticed the difference in their cries and squawks. But tonight it hit me as I walked along in the still air.

In Ottawa, gulls crow loudly with demand and impatience. They are telling you to give them food... or to go away. They’ve become city dwellers much as we have. They’re cold and distant. Harsh and selfish.

This isn’t to say seagulls don’t have their moments of greed and selfishness by the sea. Many a time I’ve seen them in parking lots, fighting over a morsel that one plucked from a garbage can. But there are moments that are unique to the gull living by the sea... and I noticed it tonight.

Walking along in the dark, my mind was years away. Thinking of times when the streets I walked where forested trails. When my father and I, one winter, tobogganed down Carrick Drive. Then, we were making the best we could out of a depressing situation. A great track of frozen mud, covered with a fresh layer of snow. A scar through the forest that would be paved in the spring and housed some twenty-five years later... by Albertans coming east... because of oil. And tonight I walked along this suburban street, remember days gone by. Remembering trees and rivers, trails and forts. And remembering that winter my father and I went sliding down the dirt grade... where an SUV just passed by, and a man left his house to hop in a pickup and drive away. And I was left thinking how much better it was back then.

When off in the distance I heard the call. The seagull soaring on the breeze and calling out into the darkness.

It’s the same voice as the demanding Ottawa birds. Those that curse me out, wanting a French fry, speak the same language as this one out there in the darkness. But there’s a difference. The selfishness is gone. The tone isn’t harsh at all. The gull is content. Perhaps it’s calling to others, beckoning them to join him on the night air.

The call echoes and drifts off dreamily. And in much the same way that I never thought of seagulls being in Ottawa, I never thought of them being a piece of the coastal audio imagery.

I’ve been so bombarded with the rambunctious gull that I had failed to notice the contented one. It’s amazing how, sometimes, that which you see for the first time, appears to you when it’s pitch dark.