Posted by Dawn-Ann on September 12, 2009
It was a gorgeous, blue-sky morning and I stopped at A&W for a bacon and egger before heading up to the garage sale. I hit every green light along the way and took it as a good omen. Although my sister B.J. has been so ill, my heart was light and I felt optimistic. Usually an event like this that uses a whole, precious calendar day would be met with a little apprehension as I thought about everything else I could be doing, but today I thought only of the task at hand, the prospect of sharing my day with people I love, and making as much money as possible for B.J.’s trust fund.
A big, friendly dragonfly came and hung around with us for a short while.
As early as I was, I wasn’t the first to arrive. Amanda was there already, unloading stuff from her truck and organizing a large collection of bottles for the bottle drive. There were bags and bags of them! I wished I had brought my bag – maybe tomorrow.
I immediately got busy setting up tables and organizing merchandise. Several families had contributed to the cause and we had a LOT of stuff. I despaired that we’d never sell it all but needn’t have worried. Folks started arriving earlier than the posted time and came in waves. Sometimes there would be no one and then – WHOOM – there would be five or six cars cramming into the narrow alleyway.
And we sat and sat all day, taking money and chatting up visitors. More than one kind soul paid more than the asking price because it was a fundraiser. We ate Chris’ delightful cookies and yakked our faces off. One sister did a coffee run to Timmy’s. I snagged a couple of books I wanted (including Dog the Bounty Hunter’s biography
and a book of poetry to read to B.J.) and a Gazelle
. We cheerfully let ourselves get talked down in price and watched people cart it away.
And we had some exciting news – two different people had been to see B.J. that morning and both reported that her eyes had been WIDE open and that she turned her head to look at them! Everyone was pretty tickled to hear that.
There was still a lot of stuff left over when we shut ‘er down tonight but tomorrow is another day. Let’s hope we move the washer and dryer and filing cabinet so we don’t have to haul them to the dump!
Thanks to everyone who contributed goods, donated money, assisted with sweat equity and cheered us on. It was a team effort of the best kind and we are grateful for your help.
Posted by Dawn-Ann on July 3, 2009
Samuel Davidson Kirkpatrick as a young man, probably around the time he is writing about here
I am preparing a family history binder for the Kirkpatrick Family Reunion this weekend and was reading some of Great Uncle Sam’s writings last night. Uncle Sam was a prolific writer and his stories are a boon to anyone trying to put together local family history. He was born and raised in the interior of British Columbia. His father, Thomas Gilham Kirkpatrick, is considered the “patriarch” of our branch of the clan.
I thought I’d pass along this passage, as it shows a bit about both the Kirkpatrick sense of fun and their pioneer spirit. I tidied up the spelling and grammar to make it a bit smoother to read. By the way, the “Jim” in this story is James Douglas Kirkpatrick. Enjoy!
On Sunday I went with John Sr. and his cowboys. We coralled a buch of wild horses and brought in a half dozen to be broke to the saddle. Every night after supper the Indians gathered around and their best buckaroos rode those wild horses. They put on a miniature rodeo.
There was a big crowd on hand and they all enjoyed the fun. Those riders were game and very seldom thrown. Of course, they did not comply with the rules of our modern stampedes, but they put on a good show. There were no shutes; the horse was brought out to the center of the yard with just a neck rope and a hackamor. He was snubbed to the saddle of another rider and a blindfold tied over his eyes. Then a cowboy grabbed the horse’s ears and pulled his head down between his elbows and held him while the saddle was cinched on. The rider stepped up, pulled his hat good and tight, then mounted. He grabbed the horn with both hands and shouted, “Let ‘er go, Gallagher!” The blind was pulled free and they were in action.
The rider usually lost his hat on about the second jump, as when a rider pulls leather his head is bound to flop.
By this time I was thinking about heading for home but Jim said wait another week. I want to take you on a grizzly bear hunt next Sunday. This appealed to me, as I had a rifle that I was proud of, so I remained another week.
Jim, John [Bowe] and I went out Saturday evening to what was known as the Milk Ranch, about 12 miles east. An Indian reported to Jim that a steer had been killed out there by a grizzly bear. We stayed overnight. There was a cabin, a barn and a fenced pasture.
We were up before daybreak and went on foot to where the steer had been killed, but there was nothing left but bones. The bears would not be back, so after breakfast we saddled up and Jim took us out to where he had killed a huge grizzly a month or so before. The coyotes had done a good job on that carcass.
Then we separated and roamed the back country, hoping we would spot a bear, or perhaps another kill, but found nothing. It was easy going through open timber with small meadows and pools of water where we saw bear tracks, but no bears. After lunch at the cabin, we headed for the Home Ranch. Again we separated to see what we could find. There were plenty of live cattle but no dead ones. We had no luck, but had a fine trip and I saw a lot of ideal cattle country.
I expressed my intention of leaving soon. The folks wanted a day or so to make orders for things needed that could be sent out from Clinton by the weekly stage. They gave everyone a chance to add to the list, so it was agreed that I would pull out Wednesday.
On the last evening we had a football game. Jim had got in some balls the year before and taught the Indians the rules of the game. They were eager and soon became experts in maneuvering a ball with their feet.
The playing field was from near the ranch house north. Jim said, “Okay, we will have a short game; 30 minutes without changing ends.” Sides were chosen; I was among them. The rules called for 11 men a side, but I’ll swear there were 20 a side in this game. Jim did not play; he was to be the referee.
We took the field. Jim tooted his whistle and the game was away to a flying start. Within minutes, positions were ignored and rules were forgotten. Everybody chased the ball. There were so many players on the field you couldn’t drive the ball without hitting someone. The old chief sat on a post near the barn, shouting at the top of his voice in his own language. It seemed everybody was shouting orders to their partners and no one was listening. One minute the whole gang was rushing towards the north pole and the next minute they were like a flock of geese heading south. One man got a black eye when hit by the ball. Very often one man kicked another instead of the ball, but the Indians all wore moccasins so there was never anyone hurt. I was kicked twice on the shins, once on the rear end, but I rushed madly on.
I wanted to get a kick at that ball. Sad to say I only got one chance, then I missed as the ball was breaking all speed limits at the time, heading towards the enemy fullback, who sent the ball high over the gang near our goal and resulted in a goal being scored a short time later. Time was running out on us. The game went on and it seemed to me our team was tiring. We lost ground and it was our goaltender that turned the tables, making a long pass down the field, where a couple of our boys took posession of the ball. Then, after a brilliant display of the Highland Fling, a bit of hopscotch and a final twist, a goal was scored and the game tied and one and all, everyone was satisfied. The Indians went up the road, all talking and laughing. The old chief with his cap in his hand was still shouting at the top of his voice. So the knowledge and pleasure that was brought to those people by brother Jim will never be forgotten.
Well, that ended my visit at Alkali Lake and, believe it or not, this happened 65 years ago [ca. 1900].
Posted by Dawn-Ann on February 19, 2009
My daily commute to and from work is starting to look like a huge, wonderful classroom experience for me. Let me explain.
My travels through life have often been solitary. I generally avoided contact with others, even if it was eye contact in a crowd of strangers. Aside from my kids and Tom, there was nothing I loved more than being completely by myself. Lately, though, I have been trying to really look at people and understand them. I’ve been making eye contact, cracking jokes to get conversations going and generally giving people a chance. As a result, I have been privy to some amazing interactions. You have read about some of them here. These experiences have taught me so much and I think they are actually helping me to become a better person.
Yesterday, for example.
I was standing on the train and a woman moved up from the seats behind me to stand between me and the door. I was gazing out the window at the passing scenery when I noticed her fuzzy-blue-gloved hand come up, flipping the bird to someone in the seats behind me. I looked at her face, wondering if I should be alarmed. She was muttering something under her breath about “stupid bitch,” but her eyes didn’t look scary. I somehow sensed that she was very angry, but behind the anger was fear. I wondered if I should reach out somehow but something inside me said, “Just observe.”
So I did. After a little bit more mumbling and muttering, she turned her head to gaze out the window. Her large brown eyes were sad. From the corner of my eye I caught her fuzzy gloves swiping at her eyes from time to time when she thought no one was looking. I was right. I had no idea what had happened in the seats behind me but she was hurting. When she started using her glove as a kleenex I took it as an opportunity to step in. I rummaged in my purse and found a napkin and offered it to her. She looked at me gratefully and said something about a “cold” she was battling.
A couple of stops later, as I was preparing to leave the train, I almost didn’t hear her quiet, “Thank you.” I looked up and there was no denying the huge tears standing in her eyes, not quite wanting to drop. I touched her blue glove gently. “You’re welcome,” I said, and left.
What I learned from this is something I already knew but needed to be reminded of. Sometimes a person’s anger is really only her hurt being manifested in a way that is easier to deal with. Look behind any angry face and you’ll see eyes of fear and pain.
Someone I love dearly is hiding behind her own shield of anger right now. Unfortunately, it is me she is angry with and she rebuffs my overtures at communication, but I know our immense love for each other will allow us to work it out eventually.
Posted by Dawn-Ann on December 31, 2008
I have a new Twitter acquaintance. His name is Wil. He is sooo cute and brilliant and nerdy and – most important to this gal – he is funny and can write. Like a hot damn. In fact, his clever, witty writing style had me hooked from the word go. Why, if he weren’t happily married and I were twenty years younger and not in a happy, committed relationship myself (I love you, Honey!) and not in Canada with him in California I’d be, well – you figure it out… Or at least I’d be setting him up with a nerdy daughter or something.
Anyway, his blog is well worth checking out. It will surprise you in more ways than one!
Posted by Dawn-Ann on November 21, 2008
Sometimes you’ll be doing something random in life and all of a sudden you’re surrounded by people who form an unexpected community. Maybe you’ll be stuck on a bus in traffic and someone will tell a joke and soon everyone is smiling and talking.
Here is a lovely little story about just such a thing. One man, Shel Israel, is grocery shopping one day when he finds out he is a grandfather. He says, “Slowly, I realized that my eyes were misting up. And then I was bawling like Isla [the new baby] must have done a few hours earlier. I stood there wondering if I could shoplift a Kleenex when some guy came up to me, concerned, asking what was wrong. I told him I had just learned I had a new granddaughter. He stared for second, then, beaming, stuck out his hand.”
Read the rest of Shel’s story here.
I’d be interested to hear other stories of spontaneous, “unexpected” community!
Posted by Dawn-Ann on
A couple of days after writing the previous post I was walking through Bankers Hall on my lunch break when I came across a little booth. On the table I saw a small solar panel attached to what looked like a tiny car battery and some lights. I had almost passed the booth when I brought myself up short and backed up to have a look. The posters on the wall told me the topic of this display was EXACTLY what I had just written about!
I stopped to chat with a cheerful and enthusiastic fellow who I later found out is Dr. Dave Irvine-Halliday, the man behind Light Up The World. We talked a bit about LUTW, about Scotland, and about how to get this project onto the radar screen of big players who could help (yes, I will be writing to Oprah). I spent so much time chatting I used up my lunch break and had to forgo my errands for the day and get back to work, but I didn’t mind. It just seemed like more than coincidence that I was there talking to this sincere fellow with the beautiful dreams.
I got paid today, Dr. Dave. I’m heading right over to your site to make a donation!
Posted by Dawn-Ann on November 12, 2008
The title says it all – men beware. You can go read one of my other posts about urban homesteading or something. It’s from The Daily Blonde and I swear, it’s the funniest thing I’ve read in a long time. I just wish I could remember who I was recently telling about the dreaded belt. Women over 45 or so will definitely relate!
So… You’re menstruating
Posted by Dawn-Ann on November 11, 2008
The Kirkpatrick crest and motto on a family mausoleum in Dumfries
This is the last day of my five-day weekend and I have it earmarked for genealogy. Well, genealogy and laundry, but the laundry kind of does itself in the background, for the most part. So, I have one whole day of genealogical bliss ahead of me!
I am still looking for the “missing link” that will tie my Kirkpatricks into the Kirkpatricks of old. I am this close and expect to accomplish it today. In the mean time, here is something interesting I found. Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress Eugènie, who eventually married Napoleon, had Kirkpatrick roots. Here is how it goes, from her mother on down, according to one source I found:
- Marie Manuelita Elizabeth Kirkpatrick, m. Don Cipriano de Palafoix, Count de Montijo
- William Kirkpatrick of Malaga, 1764-1837, m. “Fanny” (probably Doña Francesca), daughter of the Baron de Grivegnée of Malaga (Spain)
- William Kirkpatrick of Conheath, 1736-1787, m. Mary Wilson of Kelton, Kirkcudbright (Scotland)
- Robert Kirkpatrick, 2nd son of William Kirkpatrick, Lord of Kirkmichael, m. Henrietta Gillespie of Craighsheille; d. 1746
- William Kirkpatrick IV, Lord of Kirkmichael, d. 9 June 1686
- Alexander Kirkpatrick III, Lord of Kirkmichael, m. Margaret, daughter of Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick of Closeburne
- William Kirkpatrick II, Lord of Kirkmichael, 1548
- Alexander Kirkpatrick I, Lord of Kirkmichael, 1484, second son of Sir Roger Kirkpatrick of Closeburne
- Sir Roger Kirkpatrick of Closeburne, m. The Hon. Margaret Somerville, daughter of Lord Somerville, grand-daughter of Alexander, Lord Darnley
- Sir Winfred Kirkpatrick of Closeburne
- Sir Roger Kirkpatrick of Closeburn and Caerlaverock, d. 1357
- Sir Roger Kirkpatrick, 1305, “I mak sicker”
- Stephen, Lord of Closeburne, 1278
- Adam Kirkpatrick, Lord of Closeburne
- Yvone de Kirkpatrick of Closeburne, 1232, m. The Lady Euphemia Bruce, daughter of the Lord of Annandale
- Yvone de Kirkpatrick, Lord of Closeburne, 1135
- Cospatric, Cumberland, 1066
- The Kirkpatricks held lands in Nithsdale in A.D. 800
- Cella Patricii, A.D. 370
- The Tribe of Alsani, 300
- Finn Mac-Cual (ancient Irish king), A.D. 200
Of course, the last three are not provable and are only family legend, but I have learned that often such legends hold a grain of truth. The rest have been more or less proven, with the first known record being a legal document with the first Yvone’s name on it (No. 16; Yvone was probably pronounced “Ivan” or “Ewan”). Number 12 is the guy who gave us our motto by helping Robert the Bruce get rid of Red Comyn.
I think my family will tie in at approximately the No. 5 or No. 6 position, as that is the date frame and location of the highest Kirks on my tree. I just have to find that missing link!
Posted by Dawn-Ann on October 30, 2008
Isn’t it funny the connections you make with people sometimes? The other day I was riding home on the train, moving slowly down 7th Avenue, when I caught the eye of a pedestrian on the sidewalk. He was a tall, striking black man with a pleasant face and his eyes smiled at mine. I held his gaze and smiled back. We maintained that eye contact until we lost sight of each other. It wasn’t a flirty contact, at least not for me; it was more of a recognition of a brother “child of the Universe,” but I could feel an almost electrical buzz as the event unfolded.
Getting a hug from my high school buddy, Patty.
I had a similar incident in New York City, of all places. I was being all touristy, riding around town on top of one of those red double-decker buses. As I looked over the side at all the people on the sidewalk I caught the eye of a lady walking there. She also held my gaze, smiled, and even gave a happy little wave at me. I waved back and again there was a jolt of connection – a feeling of meeting a sister child of the Universe. (New Yorkers are much friendlier than I expected them to be!)
Yesterday at work I had one more such interesting experience, though this one was over the phone. I have yet to meet this sister, though I may. A lady from another department called me on a matter of business. Turns out her name is also Dawn, she runs, had heard of Holly’s runningmania.com website, knows a mutual running friend, and does running clinics for the Running Room (one of which I am signed up for in the spring). She has a blog that has a pretty decent readership and she’s about my age. In fact, her picture reminds me of a red-headed me, in a way. Chatting with her was like deja vu. You can see Dawn’s site at Dawn on the Run.
The Universe seems to be lining up all these interesting new encounters for me lately. It’s intriguing to contemplate why.
Posted by Dawn-Ann on October 25, 2008
If you read my story called Pay $5 forward, you’ll know that I’ve been carrying a crumpled $5 bill around in my coat pocket for a while. I’ve been waiting for just the right opportunity to pay it forward since the day it was given to me by a dear little Native woman on the train. Well, you’ll be glad to know it went out yesterday. I was waiting on the street corner downtown at lunch time, when another little Native woman walked through crowds of people, directly to me in a bee-line, as if she’d spotted me from a mile away. I watched her approach and somehow I knew. Sure enough, she asked if I had some change for a cup of coffee. Without hesitation I said, “I sure do,” and dug the bill out of my pocket and placed it in her hand. Her eyes glowed with gratitude and last I saw her, she was heading to the nearby McDonalds for some lunch. It warmed my heart.
My dad said his auntie, also a little half-Native woman, would have said my experience on the train was a visit from the Elders. He said perhaps it was a visit from Aunt Alice, who always carried wads of $5 bills around with her (she liked to bet on the horses). He said maybe she was passing along her gift of second sight to me. Thank you, Aunt Alice. I am truly grateful.