Pair facing drug charges
'Eat the rich' vandals strike
Trapped orca eats seal meat
Poland urges more spending
Cutting rates at own pace
MPs chide health agency
Full Trump jury seated
Iran fires at attack drones 
World's largest election 
TikTok testing new app
Body Shop explores sale
Apple pulls apps from China
Warriors ready for Round 2
Kalamalka Bowl cancelled
Rockets live to fight on
Hilton teams up with Sia
Swift still 'can't forgive' Kim
Grimes to ‘cap the disarray’
Frankly, what else is there?
According to the movie “Into The Wild” nothing other than relationship is important because we can never truly find happiness until we share it.
I have often wondered about the message in the movie. I can align myself to that. Finishing university and giving yourself a pat on the back or a high five (which is difficult enough in the first place!) is not the same as sharing an evening with friends celebrating.
A few days ago my last surviving Grandparent died. Marjorie Bates was a stalwart of determination and tenacity. She was born at the end of the first world war and lived through the second world war in a city that received international media attention when it was “blitzed” in a massive bombing raid by Germany for which Britain cruelly retaliated against Dresden.
I had an amazing relationship with Marje. If ever anyone was like a Duracell Bunny it was her. I would work late in to the evening running a printing press for our family business, the only things keeping me awake were a glass of cloudy beer, some great jazz on the radio and a ripping good conversation with Marje.
At the age of seventy she learned to cross country ski, accompanying the family on trips to Lake Louise or Burstall Pass. She was game for anything adventurous and if it wasn’t for strong winds I came within five minutes of loading her on a helicopter for a ride to the top of Mount Lady MacDonald in Canmore so that she could participate in a tandem paragliding flight down to the valley.
She was a “Yorkshire lass”, and as such was akin to harbouring grudges for generations. Her pride would often not let her strike up a relationship with a long forgotten relative who perhaps returned a plate they had borrowed slightly dirty. But one thing I knew was that my Grandmother was an amazing person and always there for me. She would hike mountains, ride horses, swim in the chilly seas off North Wales and if she had the chance to try something new, she would go for it with wanton abandon. She embraced the saying “like a bull in a China shop”. At seventy-five years old she was still one of our hardest working employees, putting younger staff to shame.
I may have more of those genes in me than I realized all those years ago.
I have nothing but fond, cherished memories of my time with Marje my Grandmother and over the coming few weeks we will have opportunity to celebrate her long life on this planet, most of which was quite comfortable.
The great news is that Marje is coming to Canada. As a tribute to the eighteen times she flew here to spend time with us, we are going to get the chance to sprinkle some of her ashes on rich Canadian soil. For two pins, if she were slightly younger she would not have gone home from one of those trips.
Now she has gone home… goodnight Marje.
Photo: Contributed
This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.
