[Editor's Posting]
We are introducing a new feature on the blog: Fractals by Marion!
Or as she's better known to her readers MrsB.
Fractals are special geometric shapes that have interesting properties. The term "fractal" was coined by Benoît B. Mandelbrot in 1975 but the roots of discovery go back much further.
We see fractal forms around us every day. Mountains, clouds, snowflakes, trees, coastlines are examples of fractals in nature.
MrsB has been working on creating quite a few of these geometric images and we will be publishing them periodically on the blog.
Enjoy the art show!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
Times Remembered 3
[Editor's note: This will be a series of stories posted at irregular intervals]
I often wonder what the human condition will be like in years to come. I am not involved in the study of such, but questions do flicker in and out of my thoughts about what the future will be like long after I cease to exist.
Sometimes when I make impromptu comparisons between the times of my early years and the times of today, I wonder what life on earth will be like a thousand or more years from now.
Remembrances of my childhood usually encompass the years before WWII. The rest of my life experiences are broken into segments that are distinct by events in my life at that time. When I peruse the current state of affairs, events are either catastrophic like that of 9-11, or meld into continued progressions.
Extreme weather patterns caused by climate warming, lawlessness caused by drugs, human migrations from the countries of their birth, poverty due to downward spirals of economic conditions round the world and the extremes of personal wealth with individuals being worth Billions compared to those who are homeless, are conditions that overshadow the wonderful scientific discoveries and inventions that make our lives easier and enjoyable. Television, computers and air travel of today are things I never envisioned as a child, nor was sending astronauts into outer space and beyond. Heart transplants were only performed in horror movies, not real life. DNA is a resource used daily to combat illnesses, catch criminals, and prove kinship.
As TV brings the world news directly into our homes, we are forced to take note of deplorable conditions around the globe, and I can’t help remembering the slower paced living in a community that never felt the need to lock doors at night
I often wonder what the human condition will be like in years to come. I am not involved in the study of such, but questions do flicker in and out of my thoughts about what the future will be like long after I cease to exist.
Sometimes when I make impromptu comparisons between the times of my early years and the times of today, I wonder what life on earth will be like a thousand or more years from now.
Remembrances of my childhood usually encompass the years before WWII. The rest of my life experiences are broken into segments that are distinct by events in my life at that time. When I peruse the current state of affairs, events are either catastrophic like that of 9-11, or meld into continued progressions.
Extreme weather patterns caused by climate warming, lawlessness caused by drugs, human migrations from the countries of their birth, poverty due to downward spirals of economic conditions round the world and the extremes of personal wealth with individuals being worth Billions compared to those who are homeless, are conditions that overshadow the wonderful scientific discoveries and inventions that make our lives easier and enjoyable. Television, computers and air travel of today are things I never envisioned as a child, nor was sending astronauts into outer space and beyond. Heart transplants were only performed in horror movies, not real life. DNA is a resource used daily to combat illnesses, catch criminals, and prove kinship.
As TV brings the world news directly into our homes, we are forced to take note of deplorable conditions around the globe, and I can’t help remembering the slower paced living in a community that never felt the need to lock doors at night
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| Old Time Door Lock |
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
The Checkmate! by KimB
[Editor's Note: This story was written by KimB]
Uncle Jerry was a favorite of everyone. Although I cannot say I loved any one of my aunts or uncles more than any other but Uncle Jerry was always a highlight when he came to visit.
Our family always seemed to congregate at various locations and often at my Grandmother and Grandfather's house. Family gatherings just "happened" and times together were full of interesting and often amusing events.
I had learned chess at a young age from my brother and probably a lot of other family members too. I can't remember a time when I didn't know how to move the pieces on the board. Of course, I didn't know any strategy and was easy prey for a 3 move checkmate (and I still am).
I was just starting high-school and Jerry had come to visit Grandmother and Grandfather. Grandfather had a wood shop and was making custom chess boards for sale at swap-meets. Granddad would bring in some of his creations for us to check out. Jerry and I would test the boards by playing games on them and give them a "thumbs up" when done. (They almost never got a "thumbs down" because the boards where smooth and the pieces fitted just perfectly in the squares.)
Jerry was a master of strategy and I had yet to learn any. I just played "all out" but Jerry won the most. He kept me "slugging it out" with him and our chess challenges were often the center of attention.
One night, by some unknown method, I was winning! I had managed to capture almost all of Jerry's pieces and still had enough of my own to manage a checkmate. Unfortunately I couldn't quite figure out how to corner his king for the checkmate. We played and played and I sweated, while trying to figure out how to corner the king. At last, I had his king in the corner and I knew the next move or two would end the game in my favor. I pondered carefully what moves I should make next.
Jerry, who by this time was rather tired of my bumbing, said "Kim, move the knight here." He pointed to a square near his king. I didn't hesitate a moment and moved the knight. After all, it was Uncle Jerry. As soon as I took my hand from the piece, Jerry jumped up and proclaimed: "Stalemate!" He laughed a big belly laugh at my surprise. Granddad and the others laughed too! Sure enough it was a stalemate! I had lost! I was stunned!
Only later, did I realize it was an "illegal" move! My knight was not able to move to that square at all! I confronted Jerry, saying "That was an illegal move! You told me wrong!" He smiled and had a great twinkle in his eyes and said "Never make a move because someone else tells you to..."
I have never forgotten that lesson!
Uncle Jerry was a favorite of everyone. Although I cannot say I loved any one of my aunts or uncles more than any other but Uncle Jerry was always a highlight when he came to visit.
Our family always seemed to congregate at various locations and often at my Grandmother and Grandfather's house. Family gatherings just "happened" and times together were full of interesting and often amusing events.
I had learned chess at a young age from my brother and probably a lot of other family members too. I can't remember a time when I didn't know how to move the pieces on the board. Of course, I didn't know any strategy and was easy prey for a 3 move checkmate (and I still am).
I was just starting high-school and Jerry had come to visit Grandmother and Grandfather. Grandfather had a wood shop and was making custom chess boards for sale at swap-meets. Granddad would bring in some of his creations for us to check out. Jerry and I would test the boards by playing games on them and give them a "thumbs up" when done. (They almost never got a "thumbs down" because the boards where smooth and the pieces fitted just perfectly in the squares.)
Jerry was a master of strategy and I had yet to learn any. I just played "all out" but Jerry won the most. He kept me "slugging it out" with him and our chess challenges were often the center of attention.
One night, by some unknown method, I was winning! I had managed to capture almost all of Jerry's pieces and still had enough of my own to manage a checkmate. Unfortunately I couldn't quite figure out how to corner his king for the checkmate. We played and played and I sweated, while trying to figure out how to corner the king. At last, I had his king in the corner and I knew the next move or two would end the game in my favor. I pondered carefully what moves I should make next.
Jerry, who by this time was rather tired of my bumbing, said "Kim, move the knight here." He pointed to a square near his king. I didn't hesitate a moment and moved the knight. After all, it was Uncle Jerry. As soon as I took my hand from the piece, Jerry jumped up and proclaimed: "Stalemate!" He laughed a big belly laugh at my surprise. Granddad and the others laughed too! Sure enough it was a stalemate! I had lost! I was stunned!
Only later, did I realize it was an "illegal" move! My knight was not able to move to that square at all! I confronted Jerry, saying "That was an illegal move! You told me wrong!" He smiled and had a great twinkle in his eyes and said "Never make a move because someone else tells you to..."
I have never forgotten that lesson!
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Times Remembered 2
[Editor's note: This will be a series of stories posted at irregular intervals]
My daughter and I were Oregon bound in the used Plymouth I had purchased several months before. I had only driven the car around the San Francisco peninsula from Palo Alto to San Jose and this was the first trip of any consequence in it.
I had received a phone call from my brother, Jerry, asking me if I could meet him in Portland when he started his two weeks leave from his job. Jerry worked as a cook on an oil rig off the coast of Alaska and his work schedule allowed him to work three weeks and be off two weeks.
It was a rare opportunity to spend a few days vacation with my brother and my daughter and I were in high spirits as we drove north. There was no rush and we took our time enjoying the scenes along the highway. Jerry had given us instructions about place and time for meeting him and we gauged our trip accordingly.
Following his instructions, we passed thru various checkpoints at the port reaching a spot on the dock that was as close to the big ships as one could park a vehicle. Jerry had stressed the meeting time of 5 o’clock in the afternoon, but as we parked the car and got out to look around, we didn’t see him.
We stood there for some time watching men walking back and forth to activities in the area, and wondered if I had misunderstood Jerry’s instructions. Suddenly we heard Jerry calling from the railing of a ship and waving to get our attention. What a relief to know we were in the right place at the right time.
When Jerry joined us, there were hugs all around and he told us about an antique anchor he wanted to put in the trunk of the car. He explained that I would have to move the car into a position so the anchor could be lowered by a winch from the ship over the back of the car, then pushed into the trunk without effort. I maneuvered the vehicle until Jerry was satisfied, then I got out of the car to watch.
That was when I saw the size of the anchor. It was huge! Obviously it was too big to fit in the trunk, and I told Jerry so, but Jerry continued calling out instructions to the man working the winch. As it was lowered closer to the back of the car, Jerry gently pushed it this way and that as it hung in the air. Jerry kept assuring me the anchor would fit and ignored my comments to the contrary. I was concerned about the weight as well as the size.
To my surprise, Jerry was able to maneuver the anchor into the trunk so that the lid closed properly. Fortunately, the weight didn’t seem to cause any problems. My only worry at that point was how we were going to remove it when we reached Elbert’s house on the San Francisco peninsula where it would be stored until it could be moved to Texas in the future.
After the anchor had been stowed in the car trunk, we started the trip back to California. I have adventures whenever and wherever I travel and the adventures on the trip home I'll reserve for a future telling.
But meeting Jerry in Portland rates high on my list of adventures and I can still hear his laugh as he succeeded in stowing the anchor. Jerry always had a twinkle in his eye and was a delightful traveling companion. I was a very lucky sister when he got bunched in with me and my other brothers and sisters as the baby of the family.
My daughter and I were Oregon bound in the used Plymouth I had purchased several months before. I had only driven the car around the San Francisco peninsula from Palo Alto to San Jose and this was the first trip of any consequence in it.
I had received a phone call from my brother, Jerry, asking me if I could meet him in Portland when he started his two weeks leave from his job. Jerry worked as a cook on an oil rig off the coast of Alaska and his work schedule allowed him to work three weeks and be off two weeks.
It was a rare opportunity to spend a few days vacation with my brother and my daughter and I were in high spirits as we drove north. There was no rush and we took our time enjoying the scenes along the highway. Jerry had given us instructions about place and time for meeting him and we gauged our trip accordingly.
Following his instructions, we passed thru various checkpoints at the port reaching a spot on the dock that was as close to the big ships as one could park a vehicle. Jerry had stressed the meeting time of 5 o’clock in the afternoon, but as we parked the car and got out to look around, we didn’t see him.
We stood there for some time watching men walking back and forth to activities in the area, and wondered if I had misunderstood Jerry’s instructions. Suddenly we heard Jerry calling from the railing of a ship and waving to get our attention. What a relief to know we were in the right place at the right time.
When Jerry joined us, there were hugs all around and he told us about an antique anchor he wanted to put in the trunk of the car. He explained that I would have to move the car into a position so the anchor could be lowered by a winch from the ship over the back of the car, then pushed into the trunk without effort. I maneuvered the vehicle until Jerry was satisfied, then I got out of the car to watch.
That was when I saw the size of the anchor. It was huge! Obviously it was too big to fit in the trunk, and I told Jerry so, but Jerry continued calling out instructions to the man working the winch. As it was lowered closer to the back of the car, Jerry gently pushed it this way and that as it hung in the air. Jerry kept assuring me the anchor would fit and ignored my comments to the contrary. I was concerned about the weight as well as the size.
To my surprise, Jerry was able to maneuver the anchor into the trunk so that the lid closed properly. Fortunately, the weight didn’t seem to cause any problems. My only worry at that point was how we were going to remove it when we reached Elbert’s house on the San Francisco peninsula where it would be stored until it could be moved to Texas in the future.
After the anchor had been stowed in the car trunk, we started the trip back to California. I have adventures whenever and wherever I travel and the adventures on the trip home I'll reserve for a future telling.
But meeting Jerry in Portland rates high on my list of adventures and I can still hear his laugh as he succeeded in stowing the anchor. Jerry always had a twinkle in his eye and was a delightful traveling companion. I was a very lucky sister when he got bunched in with me and my other brothers and sisters as the baby of the family.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Memories of Jerry by Esther
[Editor's Note: This story was written by Esther]
We have lost another member of our family. Jerry was a favorite Uncle to my children, as all my brothers were. Jerry, Charles, and Mickey were the three that spent time with us when they worked in the Gulf Of Mexico. They were cooks aboard the oil rigs and when they came ashore on their time off, it was spent at our house.
At first we lived in Baton Rouge, Louisiana when the children were well in to school. The oldest was Taffy; then Marion who was three years behind her. Next is Cindy another two years back and last is Vern Jr. was also two years back.
The children were always waiting for them when it was their time to come in and we would drive down to pick up who ever was coming in. Some times only one would come or maybe two could make it. But it was a merry time if all three of them were in at the same time.
Mickey might make a fast trip to California to see family out there and be back to spend time with his friends here and us before he had to go back. Charles was one to stay close and he like to have his beer and talk about old times. And Jerry was one to keep the children active doing crafts and staying busy out doors playing games with lots of actions. He loved baseball and football and jumping rope.
Of course, the best was they all could cook and each had a totally different cooking style. If they needed any thing, the children would help them. They were great at teaching meal planning and preparing special favorite dishes. We had lots of outdoor cooking on the bar-b-que pit and all the gang would be sure to know about it and show up to eat with us.
Jerry was one to show the children some easy crafts to make from recycle cans and containers. With an oat meal carton and some rolls from bath tissue he showed how to make log planters and to take dish washing bottles and make lovely door stoppers. He made some to look like dolls and also to warp yarn around a can to make good pencil holders. He was always reusing cans and what ever was handy to good advantage. And hey! It kept the children busy and happy doing it.
Vernon Sr. and Jerry used to play monopoly with Jr.. The game helped to teach Jr. math, which he really needed to learn. They played almost every night after home work and on the weekends; it would last for several hours. Yes, it did work and it was so nice to see Jr. work a math problem just by looking at it, without paper or pencil and to get the correct total.
And we can’t forget the card games! Vernon, Jerry, Charles and Mickey would have a game going and it would most often be Cribbage. Jerry loved playing cards. Any game was his favorite. When he would win it was a “Jolly Jerry” and he was just as happy when others would win too. He just love playing with others. He made losing fun and that was a treasure to hear my children laugh and to have them know it was just a game and if it makes you happy it is worth playing.
Jerry loved to sing. He came often to help take care of Mom and Dad and when my sister Marion and I would have Mom sing songs after supper. Jerry would sing with us. He love to sing the good Hymns we had learned in Sunday School. He had a wonderful voice and it was a joy hearing him sing with us.
I still have one brother and he is always calling or emailing news to keep in touch and I love to hear from him. And of course, there is my sister Marion. There are just the three of us now and we are still a family.
I know I will be thinking of all the good times we had growing up and I can recall how close we were to each other all those long years ago. Good memories are great to have now. How wonderful it is to have them when I look back.
We have lost another member of our family. Jerry was a favorite Uncle to my children, as all my brothers were. Jerry, Charles, and Mickey were the three that spent time with us when they worked in the Gulf Of Mexico. They were cooks aboard the oil rigs and when they came ashore on their time off, it was spent at our house.
At first we lived in Baton Rouge, Louisiana when the children were well in to school. The oldest was Taffy; then Marion who was three years behind her. Next is Cindy another two years back and last is Vern Jr. was also two years back.
The children were always waiting for them when it was their time to come in and we would drive down to pick up who ever was coming in. Some times only one would come or maybe two could make it. But it was a merry time if all three of them were in at the same time.
Mickey might make a fast trip to California to see family out there and be back to spend time with his friends here and us before he had to go back. Charles was one to stay close and he like to have his beer and talk about old times. And Jerry was one to keep the children active doing crafts and staying busy out doors playing games with lots of actions. He loved baseball and football and jumping rope.
Of course, the best was they all could cook and each had a totally different cooking style. If they needed any thing, the children would help them. They were great at teaching meal planning and preparing special favorite dishes. We had lots of outdoor cooking on the bar-b-que pit and all the gang would be sure to know about it and show up to eat with us.
Jerry was one to show the children some easy crafts to make from recycle cans and containers. With an oat meal carton and some rolls from bath tissue he showed how to make log planters and to take dish washing bottles and make lovely door stoppers. He made some to look like dolls and also to warp yarn around a can to make good pencil holders. He was always reusing cans and what ever was handy to good advantage. And hey! It kept the children busy and happy doing it.
Vernon Sr. and Jerry used to play monopoly with Jr.. The game helped to teach Jr. math, which he really needed to learn. They played almost every night after home work and on the weekends; it would last for several hours. Yes, it did work and it was so nice to see Jr. work a math problem just by looking at it, without paper or pencil and to get the correct total.
And we can’t forget the card games! Vernon, Jerry, Charles and Mickey would have a game going and it would most often be Cribbage. Jerry loved playing cards. Any game was his favorite. When he would win it was a “Jolly Jerry” and he was just as happy when others would win too. He just love playing with others. He made losing fun and that was a treasure to hear my children laugh and to have them know it was just a game and if it makes you happy it is worth playing.
Jerry loved to sing. He came often to help take care of Mom and Dad and when my sister Marion and I would have Mom sing songs after supper. Jerry would sing with us. He love to sing the good Hymns we had learned in Sunday School. He had a wonderful voice and it was a joy hearing him sing with us.
I still have one brother and he is always calling or emailing news to keep in touch and I love to hear from him. And of course, there is my sister Marion. There are just the three of us now and we are still a family.
I know I will be thinking of all the good times we had growing up and I can recall how close we were to each other all those long years ago. Good memories are great to have now. How wonderful it is to have them when I look back.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Times Remembered 1
[Editor's note: This will be a series of stories posted at irregular intervals]
As a new round of cards was being dealt around the table, players shifted in their seats and laughed and chatted while soft drinks were refreshed with refills and ice cubes. There were five players, Marion, Adeline, Esther, Jerry and Mom at the round kitchen table. They were playing Spite and Malice, a game the group played often and with great amusement.
It was early in the evening of a hot, sultry August night in south Texas. The only relief from the steam like humidity was the air being drawn thru the kitchen by the whole house fan in the small room off the kitchen where the refrigerator was.
As Adeline dealt the ‘pile’, which determines the length of a game, and the required cards for each ‘hand’, players teased each other with comments on their ‘almost wins’ and kept their eyes peeled for any flim- flam business Adeline was known to practice from time to time if she could get away with it.
The degree of competiveness differed with each of the players. There is very little strategy in Spite and Malice; it’s a game where one can gossip or chat and still win. Esther played quietly and seriously. Marion gabbed a lot and argued with Adeline, who wanted to change the rules in the middle of a game so she could have an edge. Mom always played to win and Jerry set traps and to get the best of the others as the game progressed.
A rivalry developed between Jerry and Mom when her winning streak dominated the game, and no matter how hard Jerry tried, his traps just didn’t work. Excitement began to build and Dad, who was watching baseball on TV, left the front room to watch the card game in the kitchen.
Eventually the card piles diminished and it just so happened that at the end of Jerry’s turn, he had one card left to turn over and hopefully be able to play it to win. Then it was Mom’s turn. She also finished her turn with only one card to turn over but could it be played, giving her the win?
Play continued with Adeline, Marion and Esther, all having too many cards in their piles to win. Then it was take or break time, would Jerry win this turn, or would it pass to Mom who might win? Or would the game go round another circle of play?
Jerry’s eyes were twinkling as he deliberately but forcefully slapped each of his cards on the table, and then he reached for the last remaining card and slowly turned it over.
YEP! It was a playable card and Jerry won the game! We all gave Jerry applause and Mom clapped the loudest. What a memorable game! We have often talked about it and how Jerry got such a big kick out of winning.
As a new round of cards was being dealt around the table, players shifted in their seats and laughed and chatted while soft drinks were refreshed with refills and ice cubes. There were five players, Marion, Adeline, Esther, Jerry and Mom at the round kitchen table. They were playing Spite and Malice, a game the group played often and with great amusement.
It was early in the evening of a hot, sultry August night in south Texas. The only relief from the steam like humidity was the air being drawn thru the kitchen by the whole house fan in the small room off the kitchen where the refrigerator was.
As Adeline dealt the ‘pile’, which determines the length of a game, and the required cards for each ‘hand’, players teased each other with comments on their ‘almost wins’ and kept their eyes peeled for any flim- flam business Adeline was known to practice from time to time if she could get away with it.
The degree of competiveness differed with each of the players. There is very little strategy in Spite and Malice; it’s a game where one can gossip or chat and still win. Esther played quietly and seriously. Marion gabbed a lot and argued with Adeline, who wanted to change the rules in the middle of a game so she could have an edge. Mom always played to win and Jerry set traps and to get the best of the others as the game progressed.
A rivalry developed between Jerry and Mom when her winning streak dominated the game, and no matter how hard Jerry tried, his traps just didn’t work. Excitement began to build and Dad, who was watching baseball on TV, left the front room to watch the card game in the kitchen.
Eventually the card piles diminished and it just so happened that at the end of Jerry’s turn, he had one card left to turn over and hopefully be able to play it to win. Then it was Mom’s turn. She also finished her turn with only one card to turn over but could it be played, giving her the win?
Play continued with Adeline, Marion and Esther, all having too many cards in their piles to win. Then it was take or break time, would Jerry win this turn, or would it pass to Mom who might win? Or would the game go round another circle of play?
Jerry’s eyes were twinkling as he deliberately but forcefully slapped each of his cards on the table, and then he reached for the last remaining card and slowly turned it over.
YEP! It was a playable card and Jerry won the game! We all gave Jerry applause and Mom clapped the loudest. What a memorable game! We have often talked about it and how Jerry got such a big kick out of winning.
Saturday, August 07, 2010
A Trip to Scotland Part 6 of 6 by KimB
[Editor's note: This is a many part story by KimB
This is the final story in the series.]
The bus bounced along the back roads and through the English countryside as we headed south to Newcastle. The weather was lovely and and the countryside had many trees and fields totally different than the plain hills of Southern Scotland.
I arrived at the bus stop and a nice gentleman came up to me and introduced himself: Jimmy Grey. I had found my destination! We got in his car and headed off towards “home”.
While I had difficulty understanding him, he seemed to understand me just fine. He said he had set me up in a Bed and Breakfast in town where the food was good and the room was clean and neat.
I asked again, “Who is “Peter Lee Horten”?” He laughed and said it was the name of the towns near by: Peterlee is near Newcastle and Horden, not Horten, is near Peterlee. His village was very small and that was the address. As everyone knew everyone in the village, all you needed was the person's name and the names of the nearby towns.
He took me to his home where he had his kennel and oh my gosh! Lovely Airedales EVERYWHERE! We talked dogs and dog breeding and dog shows long into the night. He said he'd be happy to let me have a puppy from his next litter in about 6 months and he would make sure it was a good show quality dog. He said he would arrange to have the dog shipped to France for me and that was part of the bargain.
My mission accomplished I left the next day. Jimmy took me to the Highway where I could catch a ride South and we said our goodbyes. I thanked him again and was happy that I had finally found my dog.
And so, I started on the long road back to France. There were minor adventures on the way south: drinking my first pint of Guinness; getting stopped by an English Highway Patrol Officer for hitch-hiking in the wrong spot – so he drove me 10 miles to the next cloverleaf where I would have a better chance of catching a ride, having to share the cab of a truck overnight when it broke down on the way south and the weather outside had turned freezing and meeting loads of nice people on the way.
The day after I landed at the Pas de Calais and collected my car, Scotland had the worst snow storm they'd seen in many years. I had a wonderful visit to Scotland in February and not one drop of rain or snow fell my entire visit there.
My adventures were not over, not by a long shot but the stories of my trip home shall have to wait for another day.
This is the final story in the series.]
The bus bounced along the back roads and through the English countryside as we headed south to Newcastle. The weather was lovely and and the countryside had many trees and fields totally different than the plain hills of Southern Scotland.
I arrived at the bus stop and a nice gentleman came up to me and introduced himself: Jimmy Grey. I had found my destination! We got in his car and headed off towards “home”.
While I had difficulty understanding him, he seemed to understand me just fine. He said he had set me up in a Bed and Breakfast in town where the food was good and the room was clean and neat.
I asked again, “Who is “Peter Lee Horten”?” He laughed and said it was the name of the towns near by: Peterlee is near Newcastle and Horden, not Horten, is near Peterlee. His village was very small and that was the address. As everyone knew everyone in the village, all you needed was the person's name and the names of the nearby towns.
He took me to his home where he had his kennel and oh my gosh! Lovely Airedales EVERYWHERE! We talked dogs and dog breeding and dog shows long into the night. He said he'd be happy to let me have a puppy from his next litter in about 6 months and he would make sure it was a good show quality dog. He said he would arrange to have the dog shipped to France for me and that was part of the bargain.
My mission accomplished I left the next day. Jimmy took me to the Highway where I could catch a ride South and we said our goodbyes. I thanked him again and was happy that I had finally found my dog.
And so, I started on the long road back to France. There were minor adventures on the way south: drinking my first pint of Guinness; getting stopped by an English Highway Patrol Officer for hitch-hiking in the wrong spot – so he drove me 10 miles to the next cloverleaf where I would have a better chance of catching a ride, having to share the cab of a truck overnight when it broke down on the way south and the weather outside had turned freezing and meeting loads of nice people on the way.
The day after I landed at the Pas de Calais and collected my car, Scotland had the worst snow storm they'd seen in many years. I had a wonderful visit to Scotland in February and not one drop of rain or snow fell my entire visit there.
My adventures were not over, not by a long shot but the stories of my trip home shall have to wait for another day.
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