Survivor

We planted this rose bush the year that my brother passed away. There has been years when I never thought it would go any further. Yet every year it seems to come up with its best attempt. This year it really came through. 

109 st trolley

I think it was December of 1967. I would hop on the bus in Wellington on a saturday night , transfer on 118 ave and 118 street to a trolley bus that ran down to Jasper and 101st, transfer to another trolley ride through the river valley over the 105 st bridge, climb the hill to 109 st and get off a block before white avenue. Many times on a saturday night I made this journey, if I had the night off from my part time job at the King George Hotel. I still remember George the chef sparing me odd tidbits of advice telling me to grab a slice of life and never let it go. Edna , the matronly maitre de, would always keep me focused. I remember this night vividly as the night was so peaceful with light snowflakes gently drifting to the ground against the light from the streetlamps. I would meet my bud at the stand up pizza bar just north of the Bank of Nova Scotia. We seemed to always have lots to talk about. But the night was never complete until we would end up in his basement rented room in one of those old houses Just south of 82 ave.  I never knew where Stan got his weed from, but I know this. It was always good stuff. It seemed like the Daydream Believer by the Monkeys was always playing on Stan's transistor  radio.

Alley oop

http://youtu.be/sz6IpmmYSXA