Sometimes it just feels right in this space to go out and simply be in the world, to chronicle whatever may occur and whomsoever it may occur with. But what if nothing much is happening on Bowen, you ask? Well, I just put that down. Such an approach is a past staple of the Lane and one I return to this week.
First though I'll note that something that has also been done here is to put names into italics. There is no real reason for this but it makes me feel official somehow. It has been done but twice, mind you, once all the names were those of island dogs, the other time a mixture of humans, cats and dogs. My trusty file of old columns tells me that the last time I put all the names in italics was way back on July 14, 2006.
It's a challenge to get lots of names, a challenge that requires a Jim Dandy effort.
And so it is that on Tuesday, Feb 25, 2014, I return to the using of italics for names while out on an island venture. Now I shall use them whether I encounter or just think of someone. For example, I am walking down Venture rd. as I write but while no one is about just now, I think of what cheerful companions my neighbours are, people such as (here we go!) Michael Hogan, Michael Bingham, The Emperor Caius Henrique, Penny White, Sarah Jo Bucklesnort and the amusing Florence and Nalia Moore.
Down the hill I go, passing the home of Juno Welsh and on to pass by Sandy Beach (stretching it a bit with that one). I happily encounter the noted artist, and noted father, Hans-Christian Behm (grandfather to the loquaciously entertaining Marlie Behm, a.k.a. The Marlie Chronicles) and we speak of my left knee. It was hurt badly during a baseball game at Snug Cove Field when I collided with that big lug, Oscar Hoekstra. Hans-Christian and I agree that regardless, Oscar is a fine fellow.
My friend, and our postmaster, Adele Turner, she and I also meet up and we speak of having leapt up at 4 a.m. to watch that awesome gold medal hockey game Sunday. We each note that there was a slight blip of a power outage during the game. What a catastrophe no power would've been Jesus Murphy!
Working outside at the Marina is Jerry Lowden. If you ever need a work space organized no question: Jerry's your man. Here's Skipper Lieske, doing his best not to jump on people and not to go inside the Marina Gift Store (Skipper's tail tends to knock merchandise off the shelves).
There are privileges to working at the Marina and I get to park my car in the parking lot for free. It's here now but before retrieving it I say hello to Alex Torok and Dale Gagne and ask them what's been going on (a regular Nosey Parker, I am). Afterwards, I drive up to the Parks and Rec. gym at the school.
Long-time islander Ira Applebaum and I often come in to the gym here at roughly the same time. Yesterday, Ira played me some Mississippi John Hurt ("It's the sliding delta, running right by my door; I'm going up the country, baby don't you wanna go") but he's not here today. However, the dynamic duo who run the joint, Shelley Shannon and Shauna Jennings are in the office, working hard. I've been given a boundary about not talking when they're working so I bite my tongue.
But, Jiminy Cricket, it doesn't last long!
I lift, bike and run while school-children play hockey outside (Ryan Hanen and Geoff McKay among them). When The Boy went to BICS he played goal out there and workouts were peppered with the sound of his voice yelling "No goal, no goal, no goal!" Once I stuck my head out the door and said "Boy, aren't any of them in?" He seemed unfazed by my presence and quickly replied "No, Dad, none of them are."
He's a regular Roberto Luongo, our boy.
I see others, at the Ruddy there's Louise Wright and Karis Maris Adams, at the General Store there's Louis Racine and at the till Brian Park, but that's mostly it. This was simply the chronicling of a venture out of doors and a meshing-with-fellow-islanders; being a regular Pollyanna, I trusted it would be of worth.
Sincerely, from your friend, Marcus Hondro.
