Isn’t anyone old enough to remember singing “Halloween Apples” instead of “Trick or Treat”? Or do you have to come from Winnipeg too?

There were several things I wasn’t prepared for when I left Winnipeg and moved to Stratford, Ontario. To name a few: The squirrels weren’t the same colour as they were in Manitoba.

I thought pigs had little curly tails, quite inedible? Pigs in Ontario had big tails that people roasted or barbecued like ribs—well, not people, restaurants, some restaurants. We went to one and tried the tails. Very meaty. I tried cooking them myself. It took a lot of cooking and it took three days to clean the roasting pan.

In Winnipeg we drank soft drinks, not pop or soda. But then what do I know? I had a deprived teenage-hood. All the Cokes went to the armed forces, so I never acquired the habit..

And so it was with Halloween . No one sang Halloween Apples and the kids were too hot. I was used to the end of October being very cold and I used to put layers of clothes on my children, under their costumes. They came home before they reached the end of the street to strip off some of the layers.

Travel is so broadening.

And, of course, everyone is too busy with their own immediate concerns, including me. I know I complain too much about my failing energy and increasing weakness and pain. But I’m not going down without a struggle. I always used to say that my will was stronger than my flesh. it’s time to prove it.

This past week I finally went to my son Matt’s home to see what he and his apartment mate need and what I can do. It took me a while. First I had to get there. It’s a long way and expensive by taxi. I needed enough money for cab fare( (most of my books are of print and no longer earning any royalties). I also needed energy to last all day. It didn’t.

Now you know why I haven’t entered a blog for a few days. Recovery time took a few days.

It was a hard day. I began to write out some of the difficulties I had to deal with, stopped, and hit the delete button. This is not blog-worthy.

It’s ironic, really. I need help to whip my own place into shape, but everyone is busy. I’ve made a list of chores, mine and his. I can’t cope as well as Matt can because he’s stronger than I am. I can, however, see what needs to be done. I can putter, and point. I am, after all, his MOTHER.

I’ll be better tomorrow.