Some Sunny Day ...

WE WAITED at St. Mark's Anglican Church in Surrey, hosting a choir from neighboring Langley, to hear the songs of World Wars I and II. These were written when the fight for good over evil seemed more clear than the conflicts that followed. I wondered if those earlier wars ever really ended. Many battles boiling up today stem from territories split and grudges formed decades ago.

The ability to solve tribal problems hasn’t improved it seems while the stoking of extremism and the building of more deadly weapons is on the rise. Current key leaders add to destabilization, making life appear on the brink sometimes. Thankfully, there's nothing like a well sung song by First Capital Chorus to bring joy and peace to a room and to relax the worry.

I wondered amid a sea of white hair in the audience and choir where the young people were and why more youngsters didn’t wear poppies, particularly since they'll inherit the messy challenges left behind. It's the mostly young who died bravely and it's they who still soldier on in dangerous places for the rest of us. They deserve respect and remembering, if history is not to repeat itself over and over again. Joining the military is optional in Canada but that might not always be the case. My thoughts lingered on misty ghosts from the past and lyrics about sunnier days as the choir concluded with an iconic wartime song capturing both the optimism and uncertainty about the future, then and now.

We'll Meet Again, written by Ross Parker and Hughie Charles in 1939, was a beacon of hope:

We'll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day
Keep smilin' through
Just like you always do
Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away
So will you please say hello
To the folks that I know
Tell them I won't be long
They'll be happy to know
That as you saw me go
I was singing this song
We'll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day

Vera Lynn, very much alive at the age of 100, brought this and many more soothing songs to light, making wartime sacrifices a little more bearable. Listen to her moving voice as it slips through time into the present HERE.

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Copyright by Penelope Puddlisms

Flights Of Fancy In My World

IT SEEMED LIKE A TOY more than a plane when I discovered this lovely contraption on the floor of a South Surrey mall recently. It was transported there from the Canadian Museum of Flight located several miles away in Langley, BC, and was under the watchful eye of volunteer veterans.

Possessing charm reminiscent of a vintage car, the Sopwith Camel seems too vulnerable to have soared in turbulent times. Yet the original plane (similar to this pictured replica) was flown regularly by fighter pilot and squadron leader Raymond Collishaw during World War I. All the brave pilots that took to the skies with weaponry must have felt like easy targets, despite their skilled maneuverings described as waltzing or dogfighting in the air.

Although battle was a significant motive for developing bigger and better airplanes, the wonder of flight propelled the imagination and eventually enabled everyday adventurers to take wing purely for pleasure.

To view more sights from around the globe visit Our World.

Copyright by Penelope Puddlisms

Saying BOO To Halloween Horror

SO MUCH TRUE TERROR exists in our paradoxically dangerous and nurturing world that I have difficulty understanding the fascination people have for the macabre and with violence.

This is the season when horrific images abound. A company called Spirit Halloween that I visited with my husband recently set up shop in Langley, BC, selling costumes and images of torture, dismemberment and death.

Press a button and ghoulish characters perform dastardly deeds.

A few appear to be clowning around.

Perhaps we are trying to confront our fears and yell back, "Boo ... I refuse to be afraid of you!" As a culture we rarely acknowledge our own inevitable demise or barely speak about dying.

We deny our fate but an unpleasant truth is lurking.

We are not immortal. But if we are lucky ...

we will grow very old, have a good dental plan and come to a peaceful end.

As my mom used to tell me, the dead can do no harm ... and there are no ghosts, zombies or boogie men hiding under the bed.

But there are live monsters in our world.

Evil exists ...

and it isn't pretty.

We try to focus on the sweetness of life. Knowing the unimaginable can strike at any moment, we certainly don't want to dwell on it.

Many sights in the store made me squeamish. But a few made me smile.

My husband tried on some masks. He looked silly as actor Charlie Sheen ...

and more likable as President Obama. We didn't see a mask of Canadian Prime Minister Harper who frightens a lot of people with his policies.

Let's face it ... even I can look scary at times, especially in the morning.

Animals were also at their demonic best.

This kitty cat wasn't cute or cuddly. Although the theme was far from warm and fuzzy, I became slightly less repulsed. The painted plastic objects around me were no more than smoke and mirrors and well crafted illusions.

Desensitization occurs not only at Halloween but daily through computer games and the movies. Technology adds realism to fake horror, blurring fact and fiction. Newscasts are emboldened to show tragedy in the raw.

What effect all this has on impressionable young minds isn't clear. But we know that evil intent is not always recognizable. It doesn't always have an ugly face ... and it can be deceptively charming.

To view more sights from around the globe visit Our World.

Copyright by Penelope Puddlisms

MOOving Cattle Tales

GOING DOWN A COUNTRY ROAD in Langley, BC, often leads to animal sightings. There are sheep, llama, goats, horses, dairy cows and beef cattle. Although the Holstein males suffer the ultimate fate of death, dairy cows tolerate the discomfort of heavy udders that make it difficult for them to stand.

With no breeze, shade tree nearby or cloud in the sky, the beautifully patterned cattle baked in the scorching sun. They were infested with flies that darted away as my camera approached. The animals looked at the gadget in my hand with deep curiosity.

Although their intelligence was evident, I might have misread one cow that showed particular interest in me. I spoke kindly to the cow as if it were a cat or a dog. The cow replied with a long moo that sounded like the loud wail of a bagpipe.

Tail wagging and head swaying ensued as the cattle communicated with one another and gathered closer to where I stood. Were they saying, “Get us out of here!” Or were they wondering if I brought them food or water or had come to open the gate? Maybe they sensed I enjoyed a glass of milk now and then. In the face of their discomfort, I drank in some unpleasant realities about the purpose of their existence.