Dave and Marianna's Wedding

I have known my friend Dave for around 20 years. For the last few of those years, the stability of steady employment has allowed his horizons to expand, and as a result, he has been able to reach some of his potential. Dave moved in with his girlfriend Marianna late in 2005, and earlier this year, I was pleasantly surprised by a request to be one of Dave's groomsmen for their wedding.

Wedding day was Saturday, May 12.

Friday night had been the family Mother's Day dinner. From the Forestview, we went west to pick up our friend Catherine, also a guest at the wedding. The plan was for Catherine to spend the night at our place, simplifying some transport logistics on Saturday.

I woke after only a few hours of sleep, and got up to do chores. First on the list was to clean out the car from its winter accumulation of interior junk. Since Dave and Marianna had arranged for an outdoor wedding ceremony, and had asked to borrow my boombox for the music, I made a desultory (and unsuccessful) attempt to clean the boombox of its near decade-long accumulation of grime.

By midmorning, it was time to shower and change. The tuxedo (actually a formal suit) had been rented from Moore's. Dave and I had gone to pick up our suits the previous Wednesday. The suit came with some unfamiliar hardware -- studs, cufflinks, and suspenders. I had to get help from Jill to dress!


With boombox and power supply in the car, I headed up to Dave's place, picked him up, and drove off with him to Marianna's parents' house in Thornhill, just north of Steeles Avenue. Realizing that I had left the house without several critical pieces (laptop, change of shoes, change of clothing) I called Jill (have I mentioned recently how I love cell phones?) who was willing and able to load the items I had forgotten into the other car.

Driving up to the intersection, Dave and I saw the stretch SUV limo on the street, and understood that the schedule, which had been laid out in five minute increments, had already been reset. The bride and bridesmaids photo session was taking longer than anticipated.

I left Dave in the car at a convenient variety store plaza a block away, and ambled over to see what was going on, and indeed, the bridesmaids and bride-to-be were still being photographed.


In addition to Marianna, her bridesmaids, and her parents, some other questionable-looking individuals were also there, loitering around the limo. Mark, who once upon a time had been a room-mate of Dave's, had driven in with Mike, Glen and Gisela. Mark and the other groomsmen -- Dan and Rob (Marianna's brother) were already there when I arrived, and shortly afterward, Rick, the best man, arrived to complete the group.


It took a while, but finally, the photos were done, and the ladies left in the limo, headed for the wedding site at Hunters' Glen Golf Club, all the way across the top of the city.


Dave's mother, along with Mike, Glen, and Gisela had gone over to the plaza to keep him company. When the limo left, I went back, got my car and parked it on the street. Dave sensibly walked over.


I took a photo from Dave's perspective (see his hand holding his garment bag?), just so there would be a record of at least one thing that he saw on his wedding day. You can see from Dave's face where he is standing beside his mother that he is staring blankly at Mark, Gisela, Mike, and Glen with a big "I'm gonna be married" grin on his face.


The photo of the short, fat, balding geek in the rumpled suit was taken by Mike, using my camera. Can't imagine who let him into this gathering...


Eventually, we got Dave into his suit and finished off the groomsmen photos. I headed out to the golf club, getting there more or less at the same time as the others in the limo. There was a bad moment when I thought I had forgotten the power cord for the boom box, but a few minutes of frantic scrabbling in the trunk of the car turned it up, much to my relief and that of the guy responsible for playing the music.

From our staging area, we walked in pairs with a five second separation interval down to our seats in the front row. I escorted a bridesmaid named Michelle who had come in especially from Montreal to share this day with her friend Marianna. Michelle and I led the way in. Dave and the officiant were waiting under a canopy. Marianna, escorted by her father, was last to walk up the rose petal strewn aisle. She joined him there under the canopy and the ceremony began.


The ceremony itself was over fairly quickly, as was the register signing. Out of respect to the happy couple during their actual wedding, I took no photos while the officiant was speaking, but once the document signing started, I figured all bets were off.




I found my family in the audience, which made me happy. Corwin was only one of two children in attendance -- the other child was a little boy named Nicholas, who was the son of Rob, Marianna's brother, and another groomsman.


All brides are especially beautiful on their wedding day and Marianna was no exception. (And speaking of especially beautiful brides -- note to self -- 15th wedding anniversary coming up in a couple of weeks!)


With the wedding and paperwork completed, the bride and groom wandered off to picturesque parts of the golf course for yet more photos while the rest of us waited.

It was at this point that Mark realized that his passengers had gone AWOL. Thinking quickly, I proposed a theory: Gisela, actually a ninja in secret, had somehow been mortally offended by some act of Mike's or Glen's (or perhaps both). She killed them (silently and unnoticeably, of course, being a ninja), hid the bodies in one of the ponds, and was even now crouched in the underbrush waiting to make her escape.


Mark didn't buy it, although as I pointed out, the virtue of my theory was that it explained all known facts. Luckily for Mike and Glen, they hadn't actually been killed, but had only gone off with Gisela to eat.

While all this was happening, Jill had transferred a knapsack filled with high tech essentials into the trunk of my car. She, Corwin, and Catherine also set off to eat lunch -- leaving me to the realization that I hadn't had breakfast yet.

Eventually, the bride and groom photos were done, and we proceeded north to Kleinburg for more photos. Thus it was that I found myself walking the streets of Kleinburg, following Vicky and Ursula, with various other members of the group dispersed around me.


Kleinburg is a very picturesque small town. The McMichael Canadian Art Collection is here. On this perfect Saturday, we shared the streets of Kleinburg with at least four other wedding parties.






Dave's Best Man, Rick, and Marianna's Maid of Honour, Candace were enormous calming influences on the newlyweds. Candace was also affectionately referred to as "the schedule Nazi". I spent a goodly portion of the day trying to increase her stress level by speculating on the meaning of the Chinese character that she had tattooed on her (ahem) bosom.


With the photos completed, we headed back south toward the reception hall. There was some time before we were due to be at the Le Jardin Special Events Centre. It was at this point on the trip south that I ditched the rest of the wedding party and slipped into the Legendary Salty Dawg Saloon for a late afternoon breakfast consisting of beer and a cheeseburger.


While we waited for the wedding guests to arrive, there were more photo opportunities. The hall was a basement room, and at the beginning of the evening, was cool and quiet.




I took a lot of pictures. My complete collection of photos from Dave's stag to the wedding totals over 400 images, most of which were taken on the wedding day.




This was the first chance that Corwin had to make the acquaintance of Nicholas, the other boy who was at the wedding. Within minutes, Corwin and Nicholas were tearing around in ever widening circles at higher and higher speeds. In order to establish some semblance of order, I told them that the first one to knock over the wedding cake would cause both of them to be killed. The extra caution that this caused lasted maybe five minutes.


The bride, and groom were seated at a table on on a raised platform between the maid of honour and the best man. The rest of us were seated immediately in front of this head table, facing the rest of the room. From a vantage point facing this table, I was fourth from the right -- Dan and Kristy, a groomsman and bridesmaid who are also married to each other, were on the end, followed by Michelle, then me. Moving further to the left, immediately beside me was Vicky, then Ursula, Mark, and Rob. Rob's son Nicholas occupied a spot right at the end of the table. From my perspective, of course, these directions would have been reversed.


The dinner was good, the speeches were mercifully short, and by this point, my feet were killing me.


I finally got a chance to meet and speak to Dave's grandmother -- a very important person in his life, and the family member who I gather provided the anchor for his own sense of family. This image of a happy Dave, surrounded by a happy parent and a happy grandparent, is a nice family picture from the evening.


Instead of a guestbook, Dave and Marianna had arranged for a photo booth. At the end of the evening, Marianna and her bridesmaids did a last set in the photo booth which I observed and photographed. I had been hoping that these could be used for my new website concept -- bridesmaidsgonewild.com -- but no such luck.



For Jill, Corwin, and I, the evening ended much too quickly. Jill and Corwin headed back home, while I, after a shoe change (my feet were REALLY REALLY killing me at this point) took Catherine back to her place.

It was a cool evening when we got outside, a blessed relief from the heat in the reception hall. The night was clear and moonless. In the west, Jupiter burned like a beacon, brighter than anything else in the sky.

I manged to get home well before 1:00 in the morning.

On Sunday, I found an ICQ message from Dave on my computer, with a timestamp just before 3:00 AM:

thank you so much. it meant so much to the both of us for you, jill and corwin to be there. poor nicholas was so bummed out when corwin had to leave. I have never seen him so active and happy. I was floored.

Later in the afternoon, when I went up to get Dave's tux to return along with mine, I learned that Dave and Marianna had left Le Jardin around 1:00 and had gotten back to their place sometime after 2:00, with a stop at her parents. They were happy and relaxed, and looking forward to their tropical vacation which would begin on Monday.

It had been a memorable day and evening to start off a marriage which we sincerely hope will last Dave and Marianna a long lifetime together.

Post History
1 - originally created 2007 May 15
2 - minor editing (typo fixes), wording changes, and content added to improve readability and flow 2007 May 17

Mother's Day Family Dinner

Every year, the extended families of my mother and her two brothers gather for a number of family meals. These are opportunities for all of us to socialize, catch up, gossip -- all the things that any family needs to do to stay connected. Mother's Day (or a convenient evening close to it) is one of those occasions.

This year, the turnout was pretty good. As usual, we held it in the downtown core in the Chinatown district centred on Dundas and Spadina, at the Forestview Restaurant. The dinner was held on the Friday a couple of days before Mother's Day.

My wife, my mother, my sister, my grandmother, both my aunts, as well as my cousin Kitty were the mothers who were present. We missed my cousin Linda, still recovering from giving birth recently to baby Matthew, and my cousin Anne, living in exotic Mauritius, expecting her second child.

My mother and my aunt:


Jill, my mother, and my grandmother:


My aunt, my nephew, and my son:


Baby Jayden and my cousin Kitty:


My cousins Cindy, Bonnie, and Amy:


Another picture of my mother:


My cousin Wayne recently back from his road trip -- on tour in Winnipeg and Edmonton performing in Morris Panych's play "What Lies Before Us".


It was after sunset when we left. The ongoing street construction had changed the streetscape on Dundas from a busy, crowded place to something nearly deserted.




As always, putting together a summary of the evening in pictures makes it clear that I didn't take enough photos. But still, it was a great evening, and only the start of the 2007 Mother's Day weekend.

The (Un)Usual Suspects

A balmy spring evening with no rain and the temperature comfortably warm. What better circumstances than that for a gathering of the usual suspects, on the usual night, at the usual home, in the back garden?









My statement about the "usual suspects" was shouted down and replaced by universal agreement that the participants were all unusual, and by that point, slightly tipsy.

Wine was drunk, gumbo was eaten, and conversation flowed. The first of many such evenings now that last vestiges of winter have been banished.

Cinco de Mayo and Other Celebrations

Eight years ago, the 4th of May, 1999 fell on a Monday. I was working in Detroit at the time, and mid-evening, around 8:30, I got a pager message from Jill, which I promptly returned. The news was horrifying -- Jill told me that she thought she was going into labour -- five or six weeks earlier than expected.

The client, and my colleagues, all knew this eventuality could happen. After the initial shock and fear, I proceeded to withdraw from the project and made my way home via a Detroit-based airport limo company -- basically the most expensive cab ride of my life.

Enroute, a couple of additional phone calls kept me in touch with Jill's progress -- she had been taken to the hospital by our friend Pam, and was definitely in labour. And it was as painful as expected.

Starting from the Holiday Inn where I was staying in the outskirts of Detroit (ten minutes from the Ambassador Bridge) it was just under four and a half hours to my front door. Including the time necessary to drop off my suitcase, change, pick up some additional items for Jill which had been forgotten, and order a cab, I managed to walk into Jill's hospital room by 6:30am on the morning of Tuesday, May 5th. The worst part of her labour had already begun.

Two hours later at 8:26 in the morning, Jill gave birth to our son.

That was eight years ago. Yesterday, while parts of the world celebrated Cinco de Mayo, or Children's Day, we celebrated Corwin's eighth birthday -- by visiting the beach, playing Warcraft 3 in an internet cafe, and coming home to enjoy a home made pizza (pepperoni and mushroom).

Between the beach and the internet cafe, at lunch, Jill took this photo:


You will note that between last summer and this spring, my son succumbed to the heredity bequeathed to him by both his parents -- he needed to have glasses. As more years pass, I expect, based on my own experience, that his near-sightedness will increase.

It astounds me that so much time has elapsed from those first hours after his birth to now.

Newfoundland - Epilogue

Continued from Part 4

A few loose ends from the Newfoundland trip to wrap up. We had roast chicken for dinner the night we returned, obtained as take-out from a well-known roast chicken restaurant chain. By bedtime, Corwin was vomiting. At the time, we assumed a stomach bug, but a subsequent event weeks later correlated with food from the same roast chicken outlet led us to suspect food poisoning. At the time, we believed it was a stomach bug, so the weekend was one of enforced rest.

Back in Norris Point, Judy Reid had a group of guests for the cottage arriving immediately after us -- they reported my two books and Judy very kindly mailed them back to me. I had them within a week of getting home. I sent Judy a cheque for postage -- or as I described it at the time, I effectively assessed myself a "stupidity tax" for my brainlessness in walking away without them.

August was a very full month. Ten days after we got back from Newfoundland, Jill and Corwin and I set out for California, to the World Science Fiction Convention in Anaheim.

After that, September, October and November were also pretty hectic months at work. I managed to write the first two parts of the trip report, just after the Autumnal Equinox, but the rest of it languished until I got an e-mail from my newly discovered cousin Tak, wondering if I was ever going finish the trip write-up. So thanks to him, I got the motivation to convert my very sketchy notes into the two final parts of the Newfoundland trip report.

Some brief notes about music. In Canada, Quebec gets all the press about being a "distinct society", which is true. Quebec's primary language is French, and the Quebecois people have historical and cultural traditions that are separate from the Canadian mainstream. This includes music and the arts.

However, Newfoundland is also a distinct society within Canada. It was once effectively a separate nation - the Dominion of Newfoundland. The people of Newfoundland are quite ethnically homogenous. Their origins are primarily Ireland and England. Newfoundland was the first outpost of the British Empire. When it was first claimed in the name of the English king by John Cabot in 1497, it was the first act that would lead a small island nation to becoming an Imperial power that would dwarf Rome.

The first Irish colonists arrived within the first hundred years that followed Newfoundland's annexation. Ethnologists have studied remote Newfoundland outports for the unique insights that they could provide on Irish language, Irish customs, Irish culture, all as they were 400 years ago.

I first encountered Newfoundland folk music in the late 70s or early 80s when the department responsible for promoting tourism in Newfoundland mounted a television ad campaign in Ontario. They used a fragment of a song which immediately grabbed me, and which I later discovered was called "Cape St. Mary's". In the early to mid 90s, Jill and I were driving somewhere one morning, and listening to the CBC. They played a few tracks from a new album by a band from Newfoundland called The Irish Descendants, including "Cape St. Mary's". We bought the album the same day.

By the late 90s, I was working in Newfoundland, and on the basis of the song, I visited the place -- and Cape St. Mary's was one of the most starkly beautiful places I have ever encountered. I have written previously of my disappointment in not being able to see Cape St. Mary's on this trip. This is the place that most embodies Newfoundland for me, and whose imagery was so important for me in the difficult mental and intellectual process of recasting my life as an employee to that of independent contractor in 1997.

Going to Newfoundland in 1997 gave me a chance to find and experience Newfoundland music first hand. For the trip report titles, I used some favourites.

Arriving To St. John's is an instrumental piece -- a jig -- on the album "All The Best", a collection of traditional Newfoundland songs.

Free In The Harbour is by Stan Rogers - a song about an expatriate from the east Coast who goes west to find work, and recalls the freedom of whales at play in the harbour at home.

Rolling of The Sea is by The Irish Descendants - a song about the relationship between Newfoundlanders and the ocean.

Finally, Ode to Newfoundland was the song that was effectively the national anthem of Newfoundland. Musically, this one is the weakest of the four, but I needed an appropriate title :-)

I didn't use any song titles from Great Big Sea, the other well-known Newfoundland band, but this was not a deliberate omission. Great Big Sea have done some very good albums.

There were only two things which were disappointing about our trip, and neither of them were correctable in the context of the trip and how it progressed. First was my failed attempt to return to Cape St. Mary's. The other thing that I was disappointed in was the food -- I would have liked to have had lobster a couple more times, to have had a real Newfoundland Jigg's Dinner, to have eaten at the Newfoundland Fusion restaurant down the street from the hotel.

Despite the disappointments, was this a good vacation? Hell, yes -- it was outstanding! We had fun, no one got hurt, there were no major arguments, no one got divorced, the children came away with some great memories, and we all got to stand on a piece of Mars on Earth (or the last remaining piece of Laurasia -- take your pick). How could this NOT have been a great vacation?



Newfoundland Trip Report Links
Part 1 - Arriving To St. John's
Part 2 - Free in the Harbour
Part 3 - Rolling of the Sea
Part 4 - Ode To Newfoundland

What We Did Last Summer -- Part 4 -- Ode to Newfoundland

Continued from Part 3

Tuesday August 8 - Another travel day. It was a gray, rainy day as we packed the van and made one final sweep of the cottage. We left a note for Judy, to thank her for a great vacation experience. We were on the road early -- before 0900, I think.

The rain intensified as we headed south. We also began encountering large RV's on the road, apparently traveling as a group, each one towing a smaller SUV. For the first part of the drive, RV's on the road would be a frequent encounter each hour.

Breakfast was at Tim Horton's (a consistent culinary theme on this holiday) in Deer Lake, and then we began the long eastward trek to retrace our steps on the Trans Canada. By mid to late morning, we had gotten out from under the weather front -- ahead were gray skies that were getting progressively lighter. The dark clouds were behind us.

We made Gander by early afternoon, and again for reasons similar to the first occasion, had a return bout with lunch at Jungle Jim's. Having done the drive in the other direction, we now had some sense of the magnitude of the trip, so we decided to spend some time in Gander. And in Gander, where else but at the Aviation Museum would tourists go? It helped that the Museum was just across the highway from the restaurant.


Parked on the lot, off to the side of the building, we saw an ex-Canadian Air Force CF-101 Voodoo -- a 1950s vintage interceptor, replaced by the CF-104 Starfighter, which in turn was replaced by the current generation CF-18 Hornet. There were other aircraft parked outside the building. When we got inside, we found one of the exhibits to be a DC3 cockpit replica, done by grafting the forward section of a DC3 fuselage, including the cockpit area, onto the back of the building. There were many other models, exhibits, and displays in the museum, which appeared to be a converted warehouse.


Corwin and Cameron found airplane toys. Robin found interesting places to crawl into and hide. The photo above shows Corwin beside a Tiger Moth biplane.

We also found some computing history -- an old PDP-11 computer -- as large as a wardrobe cabinet, with much higher power demands than fridge, and not a lot of computing power in today's terms. The sign beside the PDP-11 indicated that it had been in service at the Gander airport for over twenty years, and retired in the early 2000's. The hardware had been obsolete when it was brought into service!

Among the exhibits, there was a plaque for No. 10 Bomber Reconnaissance Squadron, as follows:

No. 10 Bomber Reconnaissance Squadron (10BR), known officially during WWII as "The North Atlantic Squadron", was originally formed at RCAF Station Trenton, Ontario, in June 1937. During the next two years, it was stationed at Ottawa, and the Calgary, where it remained only until August 1939, when it was moved to Dartmouth, Nova Scotia.

Mobilized on September 10th, 1939, and equipped with Douglas Digby B-18 (DC-2 Bolo) aircraft, 10BR conducted anti-submarine and coastal patrols from Dartmouth until June 1940, when "A" flight moved to Gander and the remainder of the Squadron joined it shortly afterward. It continued to use the Digbys for three years until they were replaced by Lockheed Liberator (B-24) aircraft in April 1943.

10BR Squadron established a record with attacks on 22 U-boats, including 3 sinkings. During the war, it flew 3414 sorties and lost 7 aircraft, with casualties of 24 crew. It moved to RCAF Station Torbay in June 1945 and was disbanded on August 15th, 1945.

Researched by William Sullivan, Gander

The stop in Gander was a nice break. We continued eastward by mid-afternoon, crossing onto the Avalon Peninsula and passing the first turnoff for Cape St. Mary's just before sunset.

It was dark when we got to the hotel. We got the children settled with Liza, and then Chris, Jill, and I went back out with a luggage cart to complete the unloading of the van. Toward the end of loading the cart, we were all distracted by the task of climbing in the van, putting the middle seat back up, and looking under all the seats to see whether there was anything that small hands had dropped. Moments later, when we finished and looked up for the luggage cart, it had vanished, apparently into thin air. Further searching revealed it across the street -- it had rolled, soundlessly, across the gently sloped parking lot, down the sloping curved driveway, and across the street -- without hitting any other car, or spilling any luggage, or causing an accident with oncoming traffic.

Dinner that night was take-out Chinese food from the Magic Wok. We packed the children in one room in front of the tube, and had a blessedly civilized adult dinner and conversation in the other.

Wednesday August 9 - Back to Signal Hill. And this time, we got in to the Cabot Tower, although it closed (again due to wind) during our visit.

We went down to the Visitor Centre, and left the van there while we made the short hike to the Queen's Battery.


It was obvious why the site had been selected -- from this vantage point, the cannons of the coastal battery had a commanding view of the Narrows. It was not too difficult to conclude that any halfway capable gunnery officer with competent gun crews would be able to place a shot onto any spot inward of the Narrows -- a sobering prospect for any admiral leading an invasion fleet which, of course, would have needed to sail through the Narrows and past the Queen's Battery.




The cannons made a great playground for the children. However, with complete disregard for their historical significance, my son sat on one of the carriages, with the cannon looming over his head, and pretended that he was piloting a Star Wars hovertank in the Clone Wars.


From the Queen's Battery, Fort Amherst, on the other side of the Narrows, was much more clearly visible than from the top of Signal Hill. (A day without fog, and zoom settings maxed on the camera didn't hurt, either). We drove around the harbour to the other side for a first hand look.

Fort Amherst was built in 1777. There is nothing left of the original fort, although there are crumbling World War 2 concrete bunkers and an old lighthouse. The road leading to the fort is also the location of private houses, all nestled on the rocky slope beside the road.



Two views of the Narrows above from the Fort Amherst side: without a ship passing through to show the passage, and with a ship to show how narrow the passage actually is.

In the photo, the ship was (we think) a supply vessel from one of the offshore drilling platforms. But many ships going far back into history have sailed into the harbour through the Narrows. Make the ship gray and longer and put guns and depth-charge launchers on it -- a World War 2 Canadian corvette returning from mid-Atlantic convoy escort duty. Make it a three masted schooner or man-o-war -- the ship of Captain James Cook arriving in the Colony of Newfoundland, a stop enroute to the Caribbean or to points farther south beyond the equator.



Thursday August 10 - Our last full day in Newfoundland. If we were to make it to Cape St. Mary's, today would be the day. This proposal was vetoed on the grounds that hours of driving (about two and a half to three hours each way) would not be good for the kids. A second independent survey conducted with Corwin confirmed this view.

Seeing Cape St. Mary's again was one of my personal objectives for this trip, and I didn't want to give it up that easily. After a quick discussion with Jill, I went through the Yellow Pages and called every car rental company (including Rent A Wreck) in St. John's to see if I could rent a car for the day, and at least go myself. To my surprise, horror, and disgust, no one -- no one! -- had anything available. I did find a bus service that would get me to St. Bride's, close to Cape St. Mary's, but I was unclear on whether the bus service included a return trip the same day.

Having exhausted all options, I regretfully bowed to the inevitable.


A walk through downtown St. John's, lunch, and a trip to the railroad museum was the order of the day.



That afternoon, I looked after Corwin, Robin, and Cameron while Jill, Liza, and Chris did some shopping along Water Street. While they were gone, Erin and a friend dropped by, to bring us back our shipping box which they had kindly taken away and stored for us for the last week.

That afternoon, both Jill and I, and Chris and Liza, went through the exercise of packing away books and clothing and miscellania in two shipping boxes (Jill went out to get a second one). Late afternoon, one box (the one which had been mailed here originally) was taken to the post office and mailed. The second would be part of our checked luggage going back.

Around the same time, I discovered that I had left two books behind in Norris Point, so I e-mailed Judy from the hotel to ask her to look for them.


Our last dinner in Newfoundland was at the Magic Wok (decided through a best out of three coin toss -- the other possibility was the Keg).

Friday August 11 - The morning of our departure was sunny, with a light scattering of clouds. After breakfast in the hotel, we loaded the van and checked out. From Le Marchant Street, we went down to Water Street, passing an EU Fisheries Patrol vessel called Jean Charcot tied up at the pier.




When I worked here in '97, my tradition was to go up to the top of Signal Hill every time I left for the airport, and start my trip home from there. I was happy that this tradition would continue. Early morning, at the top of Signal Hill, the combination of sea, sky, and sunlight was very peaceful.

We did something new that morning -- we climbed down the stairs on the seaward side of the Cabot Tower -- over a hundred of them, down a very steep slope. From there, we walked out to where the soil and ground cover ended and there was only bare rock.



Here, we paused for a few minutes to enjoy the sun and the water, and to reflect on what a great vacation it had been.

It was a long climb back up to the parking lot -- over a hundred stair steps, but this time we were climbing up. Robin had to be carried for the last half. I deeply envied her.

We delayed in downtown St. John's for a few minutes longer, reluctant to leave. We took some more photos -- of houses, of the NewTel office facility behind the Hotel Newfoundland, of the harbour. Eventually we made our way to the airport.

We unpacked the van onto two airport luggage carts. I returned the van to the car rental compound, dealt with the paperwork, and went in search of my family, duly finding them in the Air Transat check-in lineup.

The previous day, there had been a security incident in the UK. The consequence of this incident was that the transport authorities were not allowing liquids to be carried on board aircraft. As a result, Jill had to give up her eyedrops and lipstick. Liza had to give up Robin's anti-histamine medication. After we cleared security, Jill and Corwin and I were called back, because they were concerned about the individually blister packed Gravol pills in Jill's purse. (They let us carry them through). For our group, these measures were a minor annoyance, but I understood that the were massive delays in the air transport system over the next few days.


It was also clear that these measures also equated to what security expert Bruce Schneier calls "security theatre" -- a knee-jerk response for the sake of demonstrating a response with no plan behind what goals the response was supposed to accomplish.

This became evident on the plane. One of us ordered a "tuna kit" for lunch for $5. When the flight attendant brought it, we all burst out laughing -- the tuna kit was a can of tuna salad with crackers, all packed together in one air tight package. The can opened with a pull tab that would allow the user to remove the entire metal lid. Once removed, of course, the metal lid with its sharp edge could have been converted to a much more effective weapon than all of our confiscated antihistamine, eyedrops, and lipstick put together.


After an uneventful flight home followed by a lengthy delay in getting our luggage, we arrived back home.

The memorable Newfoundland vacation was over.

Epilogue