Our US Tour Week 6: NS NB ME

2006-11-08

Dear Friends,
An almost week of rain made our time off in Halifax an enforced time of rest. Then the team of Nancy Reeves and the Jonsson-Goods hit the trail again...

Friday October 13, Dartmouth NS:
If I have a church home on the other side of the country, it is Port Wallis United, in Dartmouth NS. The families and friends at this congregation have hosted me now more times than I can actually count. My dear friend, Thelma Gregan, who is the school teacher I always wish I had had, is also doing copious music ministry at the church and parenting William who, at 7, is presently the sole (intrepid) male member of the Port Wallis Children's Choir. The PWCC it was who sang with me on our sort-of recent album "Swimmin' Like a Bird". I made the flight all the way to Halifax to record with them because I knew they would have the notes and, more importantly, the spirit to animate our children's album. I say "sort-of recent" album although to me it remains my NEW album (rather like David's new car and socks which predate me in our long relationship). I know it is time for a new album, now, because many of the children who sang on this CD are teens and co-conducting the group with Thelma. That's a sign of age, isn't it - when people change, but you and your album don't.

This evening, Port Wallis United was to be the scene of the official East Coast Launch of the "Adventures of the God Detectives" - the third and final in a series of Canadian inaugural events for our book.

Thelma and her team of family ministry at the church always manage to turn an event into a big event - mostly by adding a meal to it. And having a choir back us up. Lillian Smithson served us up a special meal, as Nancy has a diet that defies most cooks, and we ran through some songs from our old repertoire, as well as the new "All Thro' the Night", with the PWCC. And so the night began with festivity - and just got more and more festivity-filled as the evening went on. Children came to the front to hear Nancy tell her stories, they danced, they came up on stage (well, mostly my niece and son did), they partied. The children's choir sang with marvelous gusto and pizzaz. The energy was high and squiggly, but totally right for a children's book launch. Later, a mom e-mailed me to apologize for her little son's behaviour at the front and I almost laughed on the spot. Thinking who he might have been, in the midst of the giddy children's community at the front, would have been impossible!

The IODE (Imperial Order of the Daughters of the Empire) moved in on cue after the reception and began setting up for the next day's Fall Bazaar. Danger! I had to shop before heading home to Kim. We dropped Nancy back off at the Sisters of Charity convent, where she had spent a very satisfying 2 days in workshop and worship. David and I sat up revelling for awhile with Kim, after I gave her the IODE tea cozy.

Saturday October 14, Fredericton NB:
True to form, the rain finally slowed and dried by the morning that we were to leave Halifax. With Nancy meeting us in front of the convent, we headed off through the golden forests of Nova Scotia, across the Tantramar Marshes and into New Brunswick. Nancy and David talked about prayer and meditation, as we worked on homework in the back.

The highway toward Fredericton now passes by some small towns it used to run right through, when I last lived here. The small gem of Jemseg now sits below the concrete arteries that curve broadly by it. I always look for the church that my Nana Brewer took my Mom and me to, where a quilt and craft show was held every fall. I still have those pink Briggs and Little yarn mittens.

However, the small and spread-out farming communities of Maugerville (pronounced Majorville) and Sheffield still lie along the St John River Valley and it is a pilgrimage of mine to stop in at Harvey's Farm Market every single time I am in my hometown, to have my photo taken beside the stately and infamous Mr Potato statue. I have done this every year of my Away-life and now have a series of photographs marking the stages of my life - with friends, partner, road manager, pregnant, with children... This year, we built up the expectations of our co-pilgrim to such a degree that I feared Nancy might be disappointed by Mr P's cracking plaster face, his slightly rusting stick-hands, his perhaps less than exceptional artistic conception. No indeed! I could see that Nancy appreciated the honour of the occasion. ["Mom! Could we please stop standing in this pose on the highway now. I am totally embarassed..!"] We took many photos, bought a postcard of Mr Potato, and made our way to Wilmot United Church, in a very religious mood.

Wilmot always feels like a group of friends, even though I was not a United when I lived in Fredericton. The church invited us to have dinner at the restaurant next door, "Isaac's Way", while my parents entertained the children back at the house, pre-concert. In a previous incarnation, the restaurant had a certain disagreement with the church about its building a back porch cafe out onto some church property every summer. As our host, Chris Levan, put it, some bright soul finally came up with a creative idea that solved the problem. During the summer, Isaac has its way with a cafe on the back porch. During the rest of the year, it provides food for the congregation's downtown Drop-In Supper. It was on a drop-in night that our concert was held, and we hoped that folks would drift up after supper into the old stone halls to join us in singing and storytelling.

So, yes, it was a group of friends who joined us. My parents arrived with all the children in hand. My dad called over to one of the audience members to ask if she remembered a certain "client" of hers from the past (That would be one of my preschool teachers..!), Chris I know from Alberta, although his partner Kelly and I were FHS contemporaries, a schoolmate from high school was there, my Jr Hi student council advisor - and I meet my dentist's family everywhere I go - well, anyway! My dad, otherwise known as Frank Good, stood up to join us in our traditional duet song: The Maiden of Quoddy - a James DeMille poem I put to melody that sings of the whimsy of (mostly) New Brunswick river names. It was possibly our best performance ever. I must make a point of never rehearsing again. Oh yeah, I already do that... sigh!

A long-lost second cousin twice removed stayed to the last to recite a poem back to me, in thanks for the evening. It was all a very New Brunswick experience, oh moy land.

Sunday October 15, Fredericton NB:
It's quite amazing, really, how three people can drop in to a worship service with songs and stories and reflections and put their heads together with the two presiding clergy and music director 15 minutes before the worship (while I was still looking for my tights!) and have the service actually be a worship! It was a lovely intertwining of liturgy, which even my mother, who admits to succumbing to the vapours from sitting in a church pew, said wove together just right. Chris's reflections on listening to the world instead of talking at it led well into Nancy's reflections from her book, "I'd Say Yes, God, If I Knew What You Wanted" (listening to the Spirit in the world), which flowed into my song "Have Patience" (words by Rainer Maria Rilke), all of which were embraced in prayer by (our just former Moderator) Peter Short. Stephen Peacock, who is a famous NB guitarist, led the choir and traded seats with me for the morning.

We closed down the joint! It must have been 2pm when all the talking had finally died down and we drove away from the church, tights and all, with talk of returning soon. After a light lunch, we didn't think it would be prudent to take any chances with our time before we had to get Nancy to the airport, but we couldn't stand the fact that the Fredericton Quilters' Guild was having a show across the river and we were so close..! So, we left still chewing the last of lunch and beelined it across the river. Nancy had had only a couple of strong desires on this Maritime Tour - to have lobster (which she did in Halifax), to hear Maritime music (which she did with a feisty Irish nun in Halifax) and to see handcrafts (which she was now doing in arguably the Craft Capital of Canada - Fredericton). OK, well, I did say ARGUABLY, didn't I.

The quilt show was radiant, displayed in the Ducks Unlimited home on the serene banks of the River St John. We weren't even rushed as we drove Nancy to the Fredericton Airport for her return trip to Victoria. After many weeks and many miles (all the way to Scotland and back), she was going home to Bob.

Then, it was TIME OFF at home for us for a couple of days, which I won't trouble you with. However, highlights were:

Nicole's second birthday party, at which we ate lobster!
Isaac bonding with the Grand-dog, Wellie. For weeks afterward, he has been chanting to himself, "Welliewelliewellie..!"
Attending the Fredericton Quilter's Guild regular monthly meeting, and acting as librarian with my mom.
Visiting with my second cousin once removed, Allison Brewer, who led the New Democratic Party in the past provincial election. What a learning curve politics involves - and if you are not careful, what a cynical experience it can be to see what you say and do distorted by the press!
Hiking on trails of fallen leaves, in amber-coloured autumn days, sleeping out in my parents' camper with the kids in absolute FREEZING temperatures (I felt the fear for the upcoming days in our own little van)

Monday & Tuesday October 16-17/06, Fredericton NB: Off

Wednesday, October 18/06 to Augusta ME:
Suddenly, it was time to leave (in fact, we had added a day to our Fredericton time, to stay longer). The rain had sullenly begun again and we left my parents in a great puff of black smoke, headed for the border into Maine again. But, something was not right. The smell of raw gasoline was overwhelming and by the time we got just up the hill and onto the upper main drag of the city, it was clear that we were losing fuel and beginning to stall at intersections. As we puttered along Prospect St, I called my dad to ask where the nearest VW repair place was, and my intuition had been true: we were headed in the right direction, just turn left and left again. We sputtered to a complete halt just INSIDE the driveway of the Volkswagen shop. We had delivered a full tank of our gasoline onto the Vanier Highway.

You know, my mother has always described my father as leading a charmed life - always being in the right place at the right time, breaking down just outside the mechanic's home. Either I have inherited the self-same gene, or maybe by virtue of having cell-phoned him, David and I managed to catch some of his "luck". In any case, the folks made room for us in their schedule so they could diagnose the problem with our Susannah Wesley. It was a simple problem, I think, and a fairly simple solution, and the only trouble was that I think the children and I were so well-behaved that the staff didn't believe us when we said that it was an emergency. As it was, we settled into a free office at the dealership, pulled out homework and worked on it while customers ahead of us had their cars looked at. Suddenly I realised the place had gone quiet. The staff was at lunch. "Yes," said the guy at the desk, "Since we first opened, we have had a commitment to eating at noon." To me this is so Fredericton. A great commitment to the staff (and we all need car work done yesterday, I know that we customers act like that) But a commitment to the staff even when a client is having an emergency is dismissive! It's like the day my car got towed from the Queen Square tennis courts, even though 2 separate parking signs indicated I could park there. Turned out that ONE sign out by the airport warned us not to park on city streets in the winter. The message: Nobody from Away will be here anyway.

The fuel clamp had popped off; they tightened it. We left. With thanks (and a word of frustration).

So, by the time we reached the border town of Woodstock (which is ironically north of Fredericton by an hour and a half though we were headed south), the evening was beginning to be hinted at by dusky grey clouds. A wonderful woman at the Royal Bank of Canada received and printed an e-mail from me - my customs statement, so I could pass through into the US and back out again eventually.

However, eventually would be quite a while, as we realized when the Duty Free shop offered us coupons for our next exchange of money (weird). It's all American from here on in, until the tour ends at Christmas.

The rain and cool had plunged in upon the land and what used to be bright orange even a few days ago was bare limbs and fading yellow. As we drove down the highway of Maine, trying to make up for lost time, I wrote to Carolyn McDade (fabulous songwriter and women's musical facilitator), in the hope of meeting up with her at her home on Cape Cod. It was not to be; she would miss us by a day. She wrote back, "May the rest of your trip be a treasure to your hearts. love, Carolyn". Those are poignant words when you leave your home-town. Again.

blessings and love,
Linnea

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