The Who Came Miles & Miles To Vancouver

DESPITE signage to stay calm, people responded with wild and noisy adoration when The Who appeared on stage at Roger's Arena in Vancouver on Friday 13th this weekend.

The British rock band that began over 50 years ago is still going strong with two original members, singer Roger Daltrey and guitarist/songwriter Pete Townshend.

Seated far from the stage, my husband and I relied on big screens and background videos to enhance the experience. All the musicians played their hearts out trying to please, including Ringo Starr's son Zak Starkey who smacked the drums with both vigor and finesse. Keith Moon who passed away several years ago was the original drummer for The Who.

The screen scenes showed key historical world events spanning 50 years as well as the band's enthusiastic fans from the past to those currently at the arena. It wasn't always easy to distinguish the time frame, although cell phones in hand were a good clue.

The past fifty years were kind to 72-year-old Daltrey whose powerful voice had an emotional edge and raw richness to it that in my opinion superseded the voice of his youth.

The walls reverberated with LOOOUDDD rocking sounds and I wondered if I was the only one uncool enough to plug my ears now and then.

I heard that way, way back in the "old days" Pete Townshend smashed his guitar on stage during performances but now only strings were broken and instruments were more gently exchanged.

They played some of their biggest hits, including My Generation, Pinball Wizard and I Can See For Miles.

When I got home I found a video from a television show they did years ago when they had more hair and seemed a bit more constrained than they currently were at the arena.

I think this group got better and better (as did the light show) and grew into their most meaningful tunes over time.

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This post is also linked to SIGNS, SIGNS.

Copyright by Penelope Puddlisms

Stationary Train Passenger In White Rock

A TRAVELER in a motionless relaxed pose, with a suitcase by his side, is ready to board a train he can never catch.

The bronze statue is a new feature that stands outside a former train station, and now White Rock Museum, that no longer sells tickets to ride. Reportedly commissioned for $80,000, the work by Denis Kleine is called The Passenger.

The dapper mustached man that seems on the cusp of coming to life enhances the seaside scenery with his realism. He provides an exquisite glimpse into an era when trains were bold without being intimidating and had an aura of practicality as well as romance.

It is ironic that the stationary "passenger" appears at a time when the City is contemplating options it may or may not have to remove and relocate the track run by Great Northern Railway (GN) in the early years. The railway evolved from being the lifeblood of a small Canadian town to being viewed more as a hazard that at this point in history is owned and operated by Burlington Northern Santa Fe (BNSF) in the US.

Trains that pass by now are the swift and silent Amtrak, (that carries passengers from Seattle to Vancouver in Canada), and mile-long frequent freight trains transporting such goods as lumber, hazardous chemicals and dusty coal destined for ports in faraway places.

People have accidentally been injured and killed on these tracks. And since the derailment in Lac-Mégantic, Quebec, there has been renewed unease about train routes cutting through heavily populated areas like the border town of White Rock and also nearby Crescent Beach where extraordinarily long strings of boxcars can block access to emergency vehicles for many critical minutes.

The attractive gent with a glint in his eye was unconcerned, however, as perhaps I should have been since everything was perfectly fine for the both of us at that moment and place in time.

While photographing the sculpture, I had a chance encounter with a woman who was polishing one of many train-shaped plaques embedded into the walkway designed to commemorate special occasions or to celebrate a life. I learned she was a mother who tragically lost her daughter, Heather, to cancer. Heather's plaque shone the brightest, thanks to her loving and dedicated mom.

I took my umbrella off the immovable suitcase and wished the world were a safer place. We are all passengers to unknown destinations. Disease, natural disasters, random accidents and man’s stunning inhumanity to man (recent beheadings and burning of a person alive come to mind) make me want to hide under my umbrella. But I keep moving because, unlike the statue, I am lucky that I can ... and I can jump on board whenever anything good arrives.

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Copyright by Penelope Puddlisms

Snapshots Of The Past At Surrey Museum

TIME PASSED in a snap it seemed since the Anderson family lived in the house that pioneer Eric Anderson built in the 1800s. There could be similar structures in abandoned fields and farms. But this donated one, moved to the foot of the Surrey Museum, is said to be the oldest original log cabin in the area. It contrasted well with the circular modern museum I visited recently.

Some exhibits inside the museum located in Cloverdale, Surrey, looked all too familiar. I sat in front of a television set that was much like the one above not so long ago. The homes that housed them have gotten larger as have the televisions that are digital now like current cameras.

Getting your picture taken used to be a major event ... a rarity. Now anyone can take a decent picture with their cell phones.

Communications is unfettered. Wires are clipped bit by bit and we talk through electromagnetic waves like magicians grabbing signals from thin air.

Transportation has come a long way in a short time from the motorless buggy era to planes that whisk travelers across the globe. Horse-drawn carriages are available in my part of the world only on tours that cater to the nostalgic.

Much of what is shown in museums is recent history and because time flows rapidly it can seem as if key moments of the past happened just yesterday.

Nonetheless, the red dress once worn by country singer Lisa Brokop caught me by surprise. It was hard to believe that more than two decades had passed since I first interviewed her for a magazine. She was a fresh-faced 18-year-old in 1992.

A year later she had a leading role in the movie Harmony Cats where she wore the costume pictured. Surely Lisa is too young and current to be featured in a museum, I thought, remembering that my husband, too, is mentioned in a museum. You can see where and why HERE.

My search through old files uncovered an article I wrote about the local star. I also found Lisa's inspiring latest song Let It Burn on the modern-day marvel YouTube. Faces and writings printed on paper or launched into cyberspace fade and burn more easily than those that are etched in stone.

The Egyptian image (above) of a goddess or queen survived twenty-five hundred years despite numerous earthly disasters.

But what are a paltry thousand years when trilobites, also on exhibit, are 370 million years old? The unbelievably ancient creatures put human artifacts and feeling like an old fossil into perspective.

In a grand timeline the distance between sparking the first flame and sending a spacecraft to Mars is miniscule. Humankind is in its infancy, the old fossils seem to say, and its remarkable ability to dream, make choices and invent gadgets will result in new wonders that will make life, as we now know it, appear prehistoric.

"Whatever you do will be insignificant," said Mahatma Gandhi, "but it is very important that you do it."

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Copyright by Penelope Puddlisms

A Literary Yarn Told With Old Lace

A FANCIFUL FABLE about a talented, but too trusting, lace-maker is a cautionary tale by English travel writer and blogger Jenny Woolf to illustrate how the creative endeavors of the ill-informed can be snatched away when ownership issues are buried in the complex details of a contract.

Jenny's literary yarn unfolded strand by strand and readers were invited to compose their own ending to The Story of Poor Little Red Shoes. I participated and to my utter amazement (because I never win anything) my name was randomly drawn and I won a prize.

The mystery gift that arrived in the mail was antique lace that I learned was likely over a century old and possibly belonged to Jenny's fondly regarded relative, Mabel, born in the very late 1800s.

I can easily envision the dainty detachable collar prettily embellishing her dresses like an elegant necklace. Perhaps each snowflake, petal and jewel shape was created by hand with hooked needles and silken thread but no one knows for sure. Machines were invented during the Industrial Revolution in Britain and mass production of lace was well underway by the mid 1800s.

The love of lace spread throughout the world and it became highly valued.

Although it is impossible to tell if the making and distribution of lace began in any particular place, it is often connected with the once thriving trading center of Venice.

When holidaying in Venice in 2010, I visited the Island of Burano where lace, historically coveted by the royal and wealthy, had in former times been intricately fashioned by local women who might have gotten the idea when patching up fishing nets.

It is a joy to have this treasure in my care. I first planned on an ornate frame with a plain background to feature the work. But an ornate design reminiscent of Mabel's era caught my eye and I liked how the multiple patterns integrated. Ghostly reflections in the glass made it difficult to photograph my prize that now sits snugly on the bookshelf alongside a doily crocheted by my mother.

Read Unfair-y Tale Concluded to find the true ending of Poor Little Red Shoes.

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Copyright by Penelope Puddlisms

Angels In Tsawwassen

A LUNCH DATE recently with my niece brought me to Tsawwassen, a residential community that is sometimes overlooked as people from around the Lower Mainland drive through on their way to catching a BC Ferry. Surrounded by the Strait of Georgia to the west and Boundary Bay to the east, the area provides a busy ferry terminal for travelers to Vancouver Island and the Gulf Islands.

Tsawwassen is also home to the Boundary Bay Cemetery where my niece and I went for a walk before lunch. We found interesting sights to explore there.

Mementos and bits of inspiration were placed by various markers. Although angel ornaments were an obvious favorite, I think the real angels are friends and relatives who visit year after year.

There was an angel carved on a coin and tucked into the wings of this statue.

I saw a stone angel kneeling in quiet prayer.

A dangling butterfly fluttered with the slightest breeze to remind us that someone precious named Lilly once lived in the community.

Among treasures and headstones we found a name inscribed that was familiar to my niece. Although I do not know if this person was related to the pioneering farming family, the Spetifore name is well known in Tsawwassen.

I since read that the family owned over 500 acres of land on Boundary Bay Road. The future of these Southlands has been in dispute for decades. The age-old struggles between housing needs and the need for agriculture and refuge for wildlife has long challenged people seeking balanced solutions.

Angels are people with a social conscious who put their pennies where it counts. I saw hints of that by the local mall where people threw coins in a pool of water to be scooped up later and donated to a worthy cause.

It was easy to see that a nautical theme anchors the coastal community that is part of the broader municipality of Delta in BC. Consequently ...

I was not surprised a starfish topped this Christmas tree made of twigs.

The word Tsawwassen means "facing the sea" and is most commonly pronounced with a silent "s". It can be a tongue twister to say today but not so for the Coast Salish people who likely lived in the area for thousands of years prior to modern day development.

Whether helping out in small ways or making a big donation splash, I saw angels everywhere in Tsawwassen the day I spent time with my niece.

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Copyright by Penelope Puddlisms

Cruising Down Memory Lane At Crescent Beach

THERE IS NOTHING quite as likely to bring out the girl or boy in us as a trip down memory lane to explore vintage automobiles with an umbrella in hand for shade on a sunny day.

Polished and sparkling like gems, the cars of days gone by were neatly displayed at a recent show at Blackie Spit Park in Crescent Beach. Several hundreds of visitors ogled the rainbow of colors and curves.

The emerald beauty (below) reminded me why our love affair with the automobile is not dead. Although the resurgence of the bicycle that I wrote about in the previous post is real, how could we not be gripped by the allure of traveling greater and greater distances in the comfort of a family automobile?

A car for every home meant a garage for every home designed to sit prominently at the forefront. Friendly front doors receded into the background and streets grew broader and longer. It was heavenly not to be squeezed into stuffy trams and streetcars. We were the kings and queens of our homes and now of our very own transportation. We could even watch movies privately with our friends on the big screens created in open fields for our cars.

How wonderful when we realized we could put the top down and feel the fresh breeze ruffle through our hair.

And how glad we were when cranking a motor into action became rare.

Unlike the bicycle that was also evolving there was no pedaling necessary as more powerful engines did the work to take us from here to there. Over time we learned how to go further faster.

Trunks made it possible to take our possessions on ever-lengthening journeys.

Ordinary folk could explore the wider countryside to their heart's content and stop for family picnics on their own timetable. Soon mothers and all the children needed their own cars, bigger garages and more roads.

A car ride was as harmless as a spin on a bike but we came full circle. In an effort to ease the burden of bottlenecked roads and fume-filled air, many of us took a step back into the trams, trains and buses we left behind.

The marriage of car and bicycle added motorcycles to our options. A serious need to redesign roads for safety developed, and is growing, as more bikes (pedal-powered and not) whisk around traffic jams on congested streets.

But with over one billion cars traveling down the roads of our planet it is not too surprising that the automobile still holds the most clout to bring out sweet ensembles (above) to play classical music in tribute of the classic car.

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For a look at my pictures from last year's car show visit HERE.

Copyright by Penelope Puddlisms