War does not determine who is right – only who is left.
Bertrand Russell
Yesterday, while replacing a replenished bird feeder, I heard a familiar chirping. My squirrel was back.
Along with all the moose tracks on my pond, it reminded me of moose and squirrel and Saturday morning cartoons.
Is that a thing anymore. Getting up early, making a bowl of cereal and turning on the cartoons.
Parents loved that, they get to sleep in while we glued our eyes to the screens.
Back then, colour TV was just beginning to emerge, and remote controls would activate a clunky solenoid that physically turned the tuning mechanism inside.
Those were the days. Who knew that those violent, subversive cartoons would create the next generation of warmongers. Boris and Natasha, the Russian spies, BTW.
We are the baby boomers, products of parents that survived a world war.
Now we sit on the eve of another. My military days are long behind me. I served during the Cold War. You know, the last time Russians threatened nuclear war.
I do remember some highlights, like the one time we engaged a Russian Nuclear Submarine while on our Destroyer Escort.
It was travelling between Vancouver Island and the mainland of British Columbia. We managed to trap the sub in a shallow cove.
It was forced to surface. I remember going out on the deck to face our enemy, where I promptly dropped trousers and mooned them brave heart style.
Soon the rest of the sailors on deck doing the same. I am sure I just breached the official secrets act and could be shot.
Then I guessed they would have to explain why I was forced to grind asbestos without a mask from the bottom of one of our ships during refit.
What about Covid, is that an attempt at biological attack? Maybe it is just a coincidence that there was a lab in Wuhan that experimented with virus.
Maybe the timing of the Ukraine attack, set to start right after the Beijing Olympics, was also a coincidence.
What about all the missiles shot from NK, or the missile from India that accidentally hit Pakistan.
All coincidence, I am sure. Or maybe it is the start of another world war.
It’s Saturday morning, I just poured a bowl of cereal and watched a Rocky Bullwinkle cartoon. Nothing ever changes.
There is a 90 small person standing on my chest. Breathing is difficult. In spite of that, wood needed to be sourced out, brought over to the fire room and cut. Then came sweeping of sawdust, so the boy cats didn’t have to walk through that.
Wood got cut and stacked ready for the latest last cold night. Tomorrow another.
I surveyed my wood situation by taking a tour to see what I had left. I would be okay, but a lot more work would be required to gather and cut.
I just needed my health to hold out. At least the snowstorms hadn’t shown up.
Just finished gathering snow, breathing was the hardest I ever remember it being. That job is done. I just need to change out of winter clothes and I can rest.
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