Sunday 3 March 2019


It is hard to remember a time when I didn’t wear jeans. I have hazy memories of my mom or dad telling Steve and I that jeans were worn by workmen because they lasted a long time. I can’t remember if their point was that since I wasn’t workman I shouldn’t be wearing jeans and our place on the social ladder prevented us from wearing jeans. More likely is that dad and mom were encouraging us to wear jeans because they wouldn’t tear as easily as the pants we were used to wearing and hence would cost them less to clothe us.

Whatever they were talking about in the dim reassesses of time I ended up wearing jeans whenever I could. During the sixties jeans became an integral part of the uniform that you just had to wear if you wished to fit in. Sure you could get away with anything that was tie-dyed, but that wasn’t really for everyday wear, but more for those instances when you wanted to look smokin’ or if you happened to be smokin’. Back in the day, a pair of jeans would last me until I grew out of them or they became too grass stained and hash burned to be of any use.

There was a store in downtown Toronto that sold used jeans for a really good price, half to a quarter the cost of new jeans. I asked the girl working there where all of these jeans came from because I wore mine until the flared bottoms were ratty and shredded and there wasn’t an inch left that didn’t have a patch of some kind on them. The girl told me that in the States people could donate used clothing and get the full cost of those clothes as a tax deduction. Pretty good deal for the scum sucking businessmen and a really good deal for me. Sometimes I could overlook saving the planet for a bargain.

Bell bottom and flared jeans are now a thing of the past which is just as well I suppose. I mean without ROOTS negative heal shoes I just couldn’t look cool any longer. Being an old guy doesn’t help the “cool” look either and those negative heals were found to have negative health benefits on the wearers feet. The company couldn’t afford the law suits any longer. I still wear jeans and still find them the best leg coverings for most of the things I do. I suspect that if I am laid out in a coffin I should be wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that says “I’D RATHER BE ANYWHERE ELSE RIGHT NOW”

Well, I can’t remember where I was going with this so I will just end now. Better something stupid than nothing at all.

Friday 1 March 2019

The Old Postman’s Home

We had a good December.

We had a good January.
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We have had one of the coldest Februarys on record. In 1936 we had a colder February, but people were tougher then. Now we are used to central heating, heated car seats and steering wheels, electrically heated socks and underwear and of course hand warmers that can be charged via the USB port on a laptop. Still, I prefer to look out my thermally insulated windows while cupping a hot drink between my two hands. Strangely enough, while I would be in shorts and flip flops in the summer when it is 21°C, during the winter if it is 21°C in the house I dress in layers and can’t find a blanket that covers and warms me at the same time.

I keep telling myself that it will warm up…it will warm up…it will warm up…

Tonight it is -25°C and feels like -40°C with the wind chill. Why did my ancestors choose to live in Canada? I suspect that they were tossed out of the good countries and ended up here. Their first winter must have been a rude awakening. You think that you know what cold is until you experience real cold.

Yes, yes I know that you can dress for the cold and there is a small amount of pride that we can not only function in these bitter temperatures but thrive. I was watching the luge races on TV last weekend which happened to be taking place in Calgary. The announcers were talking about how brittle the ice was and how the racers are not used to these extreme cold conditions. It made me chuckle because I was thinking that at -17°C with the sun shinning Spring couldn’t be that far away.

Granted the racers were wearing skin tight spandex and travelling at close to 200 KPH which would put the wind chill at close to REALLY FUCKING COLD! They are made of tougher stuff than I am and I suppose that they would have been the same kind of people that immigrated to Canada with dreams of a better life. These crazy mofos train for years racing head first down a track with only a very small chance of becoming the best in their field. Crazy!

Well, March has come in like a lion and I hope that the weather will moderate to seasonal norms in the weeks to come and go out like a lamb. At the very least when I am wrapped in a blanket in the Old Postman’s Home I will be able to bore anyone who will listen that I survived that frigid February back in 2019.