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Day 5

You guessed it. We are still without luggage on day five.  I have been in touch with so many people in the region that it is getting ridiculous.  I will say that all have been respectful and as helpful as they can be considering that we are all at the mercy of space.  The situation is a failure to plan efficiently.  Just ensuing adequate room for all the luggage or conversely restricting travellers to an amount commensurate with the size of the plane would have solved the problem.  Neither were done by the carrier.  I am sure the long term consequences of a this failure will not bring about any resolution.  The regional director informs me by email that all too often his employees have to endure the abuse of irate clients.  what a sad indictment for a company of that size. 

No wonder that ‘Jetblue’ employee, Steve pulled the string on his career.  Failure to plan effectively has got to be the single biggest cause of the demise of large corporation.

So I wait for the delivery of a suitcase which was taken to the airport at 5:15 am on monday morning.  Today is Friday.  As a labour and delivery nurse, I can say almost unequivocally that this has been the longest wait for the arrival of anything in my life.

So?

Status Grrrrrrr……

OK, it is now day two ‘post-landing’ without luggage.  Amazing how many places one phone call can take you.  We know all about outsourcing services.  I don’t care, as long as you speak my English.  Yesterday, I was in Mexico with a very nice lady. I had to call back several times before one connection held.  We were old friends by the end of 8 calls. 

Here’s what I know today.  The global 1-800 number for Air Canada luggage does not work although I was given the number on several occasions by different people.  Everything here closes at 5 p.m. even though planes are still coming in.  There is a small window between 4 and 5 p.m. when all uncollected luggage is checked and sorted.  If you don’t get someone at that point, it’s another day of waiting.  Most people are polite and I try to respond in kind despite seething anger below the surface. 

The logic of the whole thing escapes me.  Even if no other criteria exist for safe passage of luggage, how about first come, first served?  Pack the plane with who and what is there.  If you’re late…you wait!

More to come.

Complaints department

For the first time in a long time, we travelled to Jamaica via Air Canada. The service personnel were respectful and kind to us. My husband needs wheelchair assistance and this was provided adequately.   I can’t say with conviction that anyone who transported him around Pearson had anything near the sense of humour evident in Jamaica.  However I have a lingering complaint to get off my chest.
Over the years, as we have travelled back and forth to Jamaica, we have heard numerous complaints about the service, the lateness, the luggage hassles, ad nauseum, but the truth is that in all those years I found their service exemplary.
Last year when my husband was barely recovered from his accident, we travelled down for a funeral and the help and support was outstanding. They have never lost our luggage, nor been anything less than respectful.
Yesterday, we arrived early for our flight. Forget delays due to weather.  We slept close to the airport to avoid the possibility of being caught by slippery, snowy roads.  What was the point of getting there early, only to have one suitcase left behind? In my opinion customers arriving late to the airport should have to wait for their luggage not those who get there early.

The flight was crowded.  I was surprised because it seemed so early in the season for a lot of Christmas travellers.  Everything had to be paid for by credit card.  When did cash get to be a dirty word?  Suppose you don’t have a credit card?  Much of the travelling public is woefully uninformed about modern travel.  Diabetics were fainting by the end of the flight.  Be at the airport by 5am, landing at 1.30 p.m.  Seems that even a sandwich could be included in the cost of the flight. 

The double dip landing was uncomfortable but there was a wicked wind out there. (Did you know that Jamaicans always applaud the pilot when he or she lands the plane? No standing ovation for this guy though) After long lineups for immigration things got ugly when we realized that our luggage did not arrive.

After checking in at Toronto, no luggage tags were placed on our boarding pass, so when I went to fill out the forms I had no numbers to guide the attendant. So Air Canada, not only left luggage behind for the passengers who arrived the earliest but failed to ensure that if luggage was lost, it would be twice as difficult to find the missing suitcases.

Jamaica was mercifully cooler than on my last visit.  Cooler heads also prevailed at lost luggage counter at the airport.  The tedious process of filling out the forms manually was done by a young man who kept his own cool in the face of some very angry passengers, many of them wheelchair bound and some semi-literate or unable to see.  He asked me why I didn’t complain.  We don’t.  We wait our turn in line expecting to be served in order of arrival, where I come from.  My disappointment was not directed at him or anything in the Kingston Port authority.  They screwed up in Toronto.  Maybe when the pilot had to make the turn to land, more than once, our luggage fell out. 

After three hours waiting in a wheel chair, his gluts numb from sitting, my husband and I were finally sprung from the airport.  The young lady who was assigned to push my husband was a lovely girl, who hugged us, an unusual circumstance for staff at the airport but she was fun and helpful.  She delivered us safely into the hands of our brother in law.

So we are now waiting the arrival of luggage left behind.  Am I seeing the ghost of Christmas future?  I hope not but Air Jamaica is no more.

About the book

Thanks to people who recently read my book. I thank you for taking the time and also for giving me feedback.  My favourite and most overwhelming comment is ‘I couldn’t put it down’.  Those words please me a lot.

Everyone’s reading style is different. I like a fast paced book, full of information, teeming with activity and scenes with lively and intense dialogue. This is not for everyone. Writing long passages of descriptive scenery feels as if I am usurping a reader’s right to extend their own imagination.  Occasionally, I find that the beauty of the world around me was worth the space if I could do justice to it.
One of the lovely things about a blog is an opportunity to find those words in a shortened format.
I would love to write about all this snow which has come our way this past week. However, an aching back and sore shoulders prevent me from finding anything beautiful just yet.  I doubt that anyone will be interested in dialogue born out of my discomfort and frustration. I will be going away for a few days to a much kinder, gentler climate.  Let me see what the warmth of the sun can generate as  inspiration.

About the book!

The Will to be True was written about twenty years ago. At that time, I was highly motivated to write a story with complex characters and issues. The type of work I did, always taught me that the human condition contains a multitude of nuances within us which can be at play in any given situation. Sometimes we don’t know why we are motivated to react or respond to situations. Perceptions about the way we interact with people are filtered through lenses attached to the heart of each of us and monitored even more thoroughly by our ‘cellular memory’, a very powerful body ‘first responder’

My sister and I, in a discussion about the main character, realized that we saw her completely differently.  At first I was dismayed thinking that I had portrayed Stephanie as weak and ineffectual. That had not been my intention but the perception, on reflection, was quite plausible.

This blog is about the book and a little of what I see as I move through life. I hope that anyone with a strong view of my characters would write me. I would love to get a sense of how others see these characters.
In the Shadow of the Blackbird was written more recently, or rather completed more recently. I can tell by the style of writing how different I am as a person and a narrator by the choice of words and situations.  A twenty year evolution for me!
There is a hope that we all evolve but my question will always be from what to what? Do we get better with age or more stuck in the ruts and grooves of life?
No the book is not autobiographical. Some parts of it are wishful thinking and dreams yet to be fulfilled, some parts are a narration of other’s stories, some daydreaming, and some recollections of places visited. If you know me, and see parts of yourself there, I thank you for contributing. If you don’t know me and see yourself there, then you understand that some actions and reactions are universal and not always available to our conscious mind. If this book helps you to find a kinship with something inside of you that needed a voice, then it will have served its purpose.

My mother, the car….

It’s been quite a while since I’ve owned a car.  My last owned vehicle was a Ford van,  which I purchased in 2000.  It was three years old and had ‘work horse’ stamped all over it.  I bought it with the idea of transporting clients back and forth from the airport to my delightful spa place in the country where me and my gang of healers would help women to renew life and spirit.  That dream didn’t pan out as I hoped but as long as I still had the van, it was a possibility.

That was a decade ago.  The van was indeed a work horse and life saver.  My husband was driving when he was hit by another car.  The sturdy van, seat belt and airbag saved his life.  But  it meant that another part of my dream had faded. 

In between, it’s purchase and its demise, the long distance travelling began to take its gas toll on my pocket, so I invested in a small efficient car which served me well.  When the lease expired, just months after the van’s untimely demise, , I had to make a decision.  With the van gone, I needed a vehicle which would meet all my needs.  I had a plan to get another larger type of van-truck combo, but my husband already had another van.  ‘Get a car’ he advised.  And, I did.

I don’t know how I suddenly became aware of how much owning a car is different from leasing.  This is my transport now.  I don’t keep it neat.  It carries everything I may ever need at any given time.  I know that.  It watches over me while I drive with all its electronics and gadgets in constant motion.  Nice,  but my needs are simple.  I have to be able to play my mp3 players.  I have three of them and hundreds of songs to listen to.  The play list is my best friend.  A bluetooth device mostly saves me from distracted driving, if I remember to turn it on. 

In the front seat, with the winter approaching, I notice that there is a growing pile of warm things, like gloves, hats, extra sweaters, scarf, etc.  There are four large handbags, one for each of my different jobs.  When I arrive at work, I just pick up which ever one is designated for that site.  There’s an extra handbag in the trunk, just in case, I get a new job. 

There are wires for my large portable speaker system and a lecturn in case I am doing public speaking and the site doesn’t have one.  I have a full library of books to read in case I get stuck somewhere.  (last count 32).  There is a candle, incense, aromatherapy, oils and creams in case my hands are dry and I need an uplifting scent.  Nail file, and buffer, for that quick on the go manicure.  There are extra wires and USB lines for the endless electronic equipment which needs renewal i.e. computers, Ipod, Bluetooth camera.

It is hardly worthwhile talking about all the binders full of papers, (good if I need to start a fire to keep warm) and shoes.  The only thing missing and the reason why I did this inventory was a lack of facilities.  When my friend and I used to do long distance driving, we had a porto-potty.  That’s missing!  And in the extras ‘I don’t need it category’ are boxes of baby clothes.  Don’t even ask about the number of green bags which I always remember when I am done shopping and the cart, to carry my groceries and save my shoulders.  (Oh yeah! forgot that too!)

Inside my little moving house is everything I need to sustain life and keep in touch with the world.  I am sure most people have as much if not more.  I’ve seen cars piled high with junk.  It is just amazing how much of our lives is spent on the road.  I want a car to take care of me and make me feel safe, with numerous  things inside to nurture me, just as my mother did.  In turn, I will take care of it too.

Pumpkin Faces

The big Hallowe’en treat day is over.  Candies are distributed and hopefully not too many of the kids ate too much.  Costumes varied between what could be thrown together and some genuine character changes.  It got just interesting towards the end.  I don’t have small kids around to make the day extra special.  My observations and memories will centre on the following day.  As I drove through my little housing scheme, I was struck by the number of dead pumpkins lined up  at the curb, along the street.  Before the big night, many homes had several pumpkins on display at windows, on steps and verandahs, carved out with faces in all  states of happiness to horror.  To see these hollow hallowe’en emoticons lined up at the curb waiting to be sent to the big pumpkin patch in the sky, I felt sorry for the loss of light behind the faces which charmed, frightened, or cheered us up as we drove through the streets in the days leading up to the holiday.

Launching the book

I have to admit to being very excited by the official launch of my book. I didn’t think I would be.  The process of writing and publishing is long…it took me twenty years to get to this point.  Although the effort was not sustained from the beginning, some very cool questions came up during the party and I thought they are well worth reviewing.
Size matters to me in writing. I had a goal of one hundred thousand words which, I felt, constituted a fairly intensive and action filled story. That was my standard.   A novel of 50-60 thousand words is acceptable but not for my first novel.
My manuscript did not languish forgotten for those twenty years. In fact I had prepared a very basic and unappealing presentation of the book, on 8×11 sheets in a three ring binder with a title page.  Anyone who wanted to read it, could.  But, it was incomplete and very poorly done. After all, the story was written originally on a pad, in pencil and transcribed on to a commodore 64, or one of those early pc’s.
Three years ago, a friend read it and encouraged me to publish it.  When I got around to thinking it over,  my original plan was to do that online because, by this time,  my fanfiction stories were growing in number and readers.
All I needed was someone to type it for me. Easier said than done. I did it myself in the end because the format of fanfiction makes it easy.  It was a good thing to do it myself anyway.  I  realized that the story did not sound or feel complete.
Deep in some old boxes, still preserved in a plastic bag, was the manuscript for part two, hand written in pencil, as I did in those days, and waiting  to be completed. I had to write ten more chapters, 30,000 words this time but as I did the work, I fell in love with my characters, the story and the message all over again.  What I can do now, I could not have done twenty years ago.  I have learned that patience and persistance are truly virtues if life is to be fulfilled.
After a year, I completed the novel, had close to the 100,000 words, felt secure that the story could hold up under scrutiny and posted it online. To my surprise, it out performed my other stories. Confident that it could hold up undermore intense and professional scrutiny , I sent it to the publisher for printing.
No book is ever completed in isolation. My thanks, first and foremost, goes to my sister who read it and edited much of it. What is not corrected is only what I couldn’t afford to redo. She did a beautiful job.
The Gershwin family, through their lawyers gave me permission to use the words from a Gershwin song. That process was interesting. I love the cover and thank the photographer who took it. The clock, the bird, the leaves all fit with this time of year and the revelatory events in the life of the heroine. My award winning brother in law deserves credit for taking a great shot of me (Bryan Davies photos) and thanks to all those who read the manuscript before the final priniting and encouraged me to just do it!  The publishers, iUniverse were also extremely helpful and supportive.
I am not one to push my own work, so I appreciate our colleague, Shelley who offered to be my publicist for the launch.
Nothing is ever done in isolation. The women whose life stories contributed to this work deserve my thanks for sharing their intimate selves with me and contributing greatly to the wealth of information about the emotions attached to just getting by, day to day, when life seems to hold you down. Disappointments, doubts, stress and violence are not confined to the poor and disadvantaged, nor the wealthy. It is a circumstance of this life in which we all participate. We must therefore strive to understand those around us whose lives may not be what they seem on the surface. Be a friend. That is the moral of my story.

Thought provoking…

I don’t know if I am like other people. I would hope so, but sometimes I wonder. I like driving. For me, it is a stress reducing exercise. It’s like being in a bubble, a world of my own where I can think, sing, listen to music, or plan. A whole idea, which germinated in the morning can transform into something different once it has passed the filters of a long drive.
I already knew that most of my stories and blogs are formulated while driving on those long winding lanes of Southern Ontario, but now that I have suspended active writing while learning to play the guitar, I am acutely aware that my life needs transforming. It came to me through this series of posts about leaves and aging, and signs and omens. This is a big time of year for me as an individual. Using the word transformation is significant.
I know that astrologers and astronomers have delisted the Planet Pluto.  However, there are still some of us who love its energy because we believe in its transformative nature.  It is for me, as David Hawkins writes, the struggle between power vs force and which one will determine my future behaviour.  In the past few weeks, Pluto has gone from its retrograde state to moving forward.  For those of us spellbound by its energy, the release has opened up several doors in which thought and process become active.  This past week I have seen and heard the word Transformation many times.  In keeping with the idea of paying attention to signs and omens, I picked up my Tarot of Transformation, surely the work of a Pluto afficiando.  I will layout a few cards of this beautiful deck and see what they tell me.
It is time for change. I see it in the leaves, as well as the events and cycles shifting before my eyes.   The filter of driving confirms this shift.  I have seen something new on the horizon and need to move towards it.

Leavin’

I am still quite caught up in the autumn images. I guess that’s what happens when you do a lot of country driving. There are no oppresive concrete structures along the country lanes to mar the beauty of nature.  In southern Ontario, the view is spectacular. The rolling hills lend themselves to vista upon vista of colourful delight.
As the days pass, what becomes noticeable is not the colours so much as the sad fact that the trees are becoming barren. Soon their contracted limbs will face the blowing winter winds and the weight of new fallen snow.  The scene will be a monotone white.   On a sunny day, that pristine look will have its own beauty,  but for now, I try to live in the beauty of the present.

Looking up  as I drive along I am showered with the falling leaves.  The gentle sprinkle made me wonder about what we would call this interesting phenomenon, unique to this time of year.  Moving along the natural sequence of the elements, I came to the following conclusion.  Water, when falling,  is rain therefore, it’s rainin’. Cold water is snow and it’s snowing. Dead leaves are falling.  Is it ‘leavin’?  Yes indeed it is!  I am sad but resigned.