Playing To Open The Recital

Mary Ann, a piano teacher, attends our Mid-Week Bible Study. She is an excellent pianist who has occasionally accompanied our daughter, a soloist, in the church service. She said that Mary Ann never plays from the original score but arranges her music to suit her own taste.

One evening Mary Ann announced that her piano students would be having a piano recital and it would be in White Rock Baptist Church. She wanted her Bible Study Group to assist her in presenting the program, by supplying an announcer, a greeter, a host and guest artist. She asked me to open the program with the bagpipes, to which I happily consented. I would soon appreciate the high caliber of her students.

To play the pipes for an audience in a sanctuary so well noted for its fine acoustics was an honor and Mary Ann’s invitation to open the program was exciting. In fact, the Welsh Men’s Choir chooses this venue every year because of its fine acoustics. A gentleman who sings with me in our church choir also sings in the Welsh Men’s Choir.

I entered the stage from the right side, playing “Highland Cathedral,” and marched across several times. I was absolutely entranced by the sound’s fullness. The whole sanctuary was filled with the bagpipes’ harmonics. Never, have I experienced such richness of tone as I did that afternoon. It was a wonderful feeling and I could have desired to continue playing. However, I realized this was not my recital but that of Mary Ann’s piano students. I stepped down a few steps to conclude the anthem. The group of 15 piano students arranged themselves around me to lead everyone in Mary Ann’s beautiful arrangement of our National Anthem, “O Canada!” Obviously, the singers were accomplished musicians and maneuvered gracefully through the intricacies of Mary Ann’s ingenious arrangement. We were about to hear some amazing young pianists. Mary Ann’s students were gifted and it was certain that they practiced conscientiously. They needed no sheets of music. It was well memorized and would have consisted of many pages. They were disciplined and polite, because they bowed before and after every presentation.

When the recital was over and after the students presented their parents with roses, we were in the reception. A lady took me by the arm and said she thought “Highland Cathedral was a beautiful song, and because her husband missed it, she was “really in hot water with him now.” He had asked her if she thought he should attend this music recital and she had advised him, “there wouldn’t be anything there for him and he might as well stay home and relax.” That’s what he did. He’s the gentleman who sings in the Men’s Welsh Choir and who told me many times, that his favorite piece of music is “Highland Cathedral,” especially when played on the bagpipes. Now, she would have to go home and tell him that he missed his favorite selection and that she was terribly sorry she had given him the wrong piece of advice. It was a beautiful compliment however, that she would tell me she enjoyed it, and that her husband would have too, if he had been there. I enjoyed playing so much in that acoustically perfect sanctuary that I could have played a whole concert if it had been the right thing to do. It would be a wonderful experience!

A Tribute to My Dad (The Second Blog on Memories of My Dad)

Dad loved to play the fiddle. He played in an old-time dance band before he was married. My sister Earla chorded on the piano to his music and he kept time with his foot. Similarly, he kept strict time as he added whole columns of numbers aloud when he did his own bookkeeping, years before we had hand calculators.


From his studies in Business College, before he was married, Dad learned penmanship. His handwriting was beautiful, done with a flourish. With his pen he was an artist. His specialty was to draw a bird in a nest. Through the picture, would run a quill, which was a feathered straight pen, the trademark of a penman. Each of my sisters, Earla, Euna and Margaret, requested an original, which they received years before he went to be with God.


Relatives shipped him an old bellows-operated pedal organ that once played in a country church. Considerable work was required to restore it, but he accepted the challenge. Eventually, he had it working perfectly and we kids took turns pumping with our feet and playing. Earla and her husband Dave, in Iowa, wanted the organ and Dad sent it to them in the States where it will now be in possession of Earla's daughter.


He once acquired an oak dining room set and spent many hours restoring all the chairs, table and buffet. He made the top as smooth and polished as the day it was made. My sister, Margaret’s daughter Donna, has the set in her home in Calgary. This was Dad’s way of expressing his love. Likewise, he made cedar chests for my three sisters.


Dad was ambitious, and more so than any of us. Once he decided upon a project, he undertook it with a passion. He didn’t ponder over it, but would undertake it until the job was complete. Sometimes, I thought he would complete all his “jobs” and have nothing left to do. That never happened, because one hot day in the summer, he undertook to paint white walls on the tires of his Studebaker. The paintbrush fell out of his hand and he was unable to retrieve it. The stroke took him home 42 days later. He accomplished much during his lifetime and completed any task to perfection except the last one.


When Ken and I were boys about six and seven years old, Dad had to drive over to Hanover from Kinloss Ontario, with a friend. Mom thought the trip would be good for the two of us, so she encouraged us to hide between the front and back seats of the car. Dad and his friend didn’t know we were there until we were quite far along our way, so Dad accepted that we might as well enjoy the rest of the ride. I’m not sure to this day if Mom and Dad planned the trip. I can’t ask them because they are no longer here, but I think they did.


When Ken and I set up our practices, Dad helped in building the partitions. When we left home and shared a house together, he helped us finish the basement. In my own first house, the basement washroom vanity needed to be retrofitted to the sink. Before long, Dad added the cabinet like it had always been there. Together, he and I worked to install ceiling tiles until Dad got tired and went home for a rest. I continued alone, concentrating on how to cut the edge tiles. I had to turn them upside down and mark them, which was a trick he had shown me. Then, as I was getting quite tired, I made a mistake and in my exasperation, I threw the wrongly sawed tile across the room. Just then, I heard Dad say as he returned, “I saw that.”


I admitted that I had made a mistake and cut the wrong edge of the tile and realized it wouldn’t fit. Then, he said, do you have anything to drink? I said, “Sure, I have Ginger Ale and a bit of rye whiskey.” He said, “Could you just make it straight?” So, I poured a “neat” one for each of us and we stood back and let it go down. It burned all the way and I could feel it hit the bottom. He said, “I think you have had a pretty full day, and I think you should take a rest and finish your job tomorrow.” That was excellent advice, and we sat down in the living room and talked for a while before suppertime. Neither of us took to drinking. We both prized the time we had to do things, but once in a while, there has to come a time to relax and Dad taught me it was a good thing to do.

Memories of my Dad

We will soon be celebrating “Father’s Day.”  I would like to share some fond memories of my Dad.


It’s twenty-five years now, since Dad passed away.  He had a stroke and was gone in 42 days. I wasn’t able to say “Good-bye,” because he could not respond. Since then, I’ve had many memories of little experiences during the years when he was alive and well.


I recall when I was about a year old and determined to see if Santa Claus had come.  I ventured down the steps in the blackness of night and tumbled down with enough noise to wake the household.  I hadn’t discovered whether Santa Claus had already come or not, but lovingly, Dad carried me back to my bed.  He suggested that I should be patient until morning, and then see if Santa had come in the night.  He came, either before or after my little incident.


I could have been two years old when Dad was a Scout leader and considered me too young to participate.  Mom suggested that I should go where the group was having its wiener roast.  It was across a field in a bush, and I remember running over the rough terrain.  The Scouts and Dad were easily located and I was welcomed.  Dad put a spare Scout belt on me, which was too large for a little guy.  Then he swung me back and forth in it. In a few years I grew into the belt. Ultimately, it was a keepsake.


I couldn’t have been much older when I foolishly pounded a piece of broken windowpane with a hammer, just to see the ‘diamonds’ fly this way and that.  Suddenly, a sharp piece flew into my eye.  I cried and cried. Dad was home and he immediately saw what had happened and he carried me, crying all the way to Dr. Scratch’s office, in the business part of the small town of Maymont Saskatchewan.  I remember the doctor lighting a match to cast a shadow across my eye, to see if there was a fragment of glass imbedded in it.  He could see nothing, which was logical, because my crying on the way would have washed out any tiny fragment.  It was providential that the speck of glass had been washed out.


I was fortunate, because in my work years later as an optometrist, I saw, as I examined the eyes of a young fellow, what looked like a ‘shooting star’ on his cornea.  The lad explained that it was a splinter from a pop bottle that broke as it struck the goal post.  It was being used as a puck during street hockey.  This small piece of glass flew into his cornea and imbedded itself for several years.  I realized then, how anxious Dad would have been as he watched Dr. Scratch looking for a fragment of glass in my eye.


I would have been four when I happened to be under the wooden steps of the church next door to us in Maymont Saskatchewan.  Sitting above me was my sister Euna and her friend Mary Rogers, having a friendly chat. Seeing the scraps of paper and twigs around me, I had the bright idea of playing a joke on them by setting a small fire immediately beneath them. I scurried home and saw that my mother was occupied in the kitchen.  Quietly, without causing any distraction, I moved a chair to the cupboard where I knew she kept the matches.  Reaching up, I took a couple.  Away I ran, behind the church, then around towards the front and under the steps.  The girls were still having their little visit.  After gathering a small patch of paper and twigs, I lit a small fire and the smoke curled nicely up between them.  They were taken entirely by surprise and called out, “Fire!”  I was out of there, rounding the back of the church, then home, in short order.


I remember seeing some people running with buckets.  They responded quickly.  I could not have been recognized. However, when dad came home from school that afternoon, he asked me to come and sit on his knee because he wanted to talk.  He asked if I had anything to do with the fire under the church steps.  I denied knowing anything about it, and the reason for that was that I was afraid of being punished, not only for setting the fire but also for acquiring the matches.  In all the years since then, I never admitted to my dad that I was the person responsible, and I still carry the guilt of not answering my dad truthfully.  I believe he knew and was satisfied that if I wouldn’t tell him I did it, I would not tell anyone else. My secret would be safe.  Nevertheless, I still wish I had told him at some time.  I will tell him when I see him in Heaven although he will have known.


I recall when I was four, having broken the neighbour’s window with a softball when tossing it to my brother.  Dad recognized it as an accident and only asked me to be more careful. I remember him repairing the window, doing what I didn’t yet have the skill to do and I appreciated it.


I was only five when I drove my wagon on the highway that passed our house in Lashburn Saskatchewan.  I would put my right knee in the wagon and use the left leg for power.  Many miles were made on my wagon, and an early demise was certain if I continued to drive it on the road. Dad convinced the school’s principal to enroll me in grade one.  My life was saved and this is the reason why I got an early start in school.


For two years we lived in Kinloss Ontario, where our home was connected to a corner store.  It was located where the Goderich highway intersects with the highway that runs between Kincardine and Walkerton. Dad renovated the old-fashioned store and built shelves that were a convenient height.  He and my mother loved working in the store.  When I came home from school one day, Dad was leaning back against the counter talking to a customer seated across from him. He was preparing a long bamboo rod for me to go fishing with the grade two class.  My dad was very thoughtful to prepare a fishing pole for my school field trip.


We moved back to Lashburn Saskatchewan because Dad had been offered the position of High School principal and he decided to accept.  Our family loved to go to Lake Waskesiu for holidays and we enjoyed fishing with our dad.  One of us would row the boat while the others trolled and caught big Jackfish.  There are pictures of us with many fish strung on a rope.  Dad taught us to clean them so Mom could prepare delicious fish dinners. I have precious memories of those holidays with our family.


Dad was an expert carpenter.  Before he married Mom, he would work in the summers building barns with his dad.  He told us about building a dairy barn with the two main sections meeting at right angles.  The roof was a half-circle.  It required an especially shaped rafter where the two roofs met.  In the fall, he took the dimensions to his Mathematics class at the university.  With assistance from his professor, he returned in the spring with a formula for the rafter that would join the two sections of the dairy barn.  I was always amazed that Dad accepted that challenge. How he succeeded in enabling the carpenters to build the correct rafter on the ground intrigued him.


Dad took classes in his first year of university and for the remainder of his BA in History and Mathematics he corresponded.  Meanwhile, Dad kept books for his clients. Mom and Dad raised five of us.  Dad was a High School principal when I was born.  Mom told us that Dad celebrated by giving chocolate bars to his students.  It was wonderful to have his assistance when we were doing homework.  His help in Algebra and Trigonometry was immeasurable when we were in High School.  As a result, I did well in Math in the final exams and it was easier for me when I went to university.


Dad promised that he would assist me financially in going to university as long as I was achieving, but he would not do so if I didn’t continue to be conscientious.  He recalled my days in High School when I spent more time building motor scooters than doing homework.  He promised me his own violin, which I was already playing, if I passed with a sufficient grade to enter university.  He also promised me a set of bagpipes if I would learn to play them.  He wanted very much to learn how to play the pipes himself and he would find it so much better if we could learn together.  We learned to play the pipes, Dad and I and my brother Ken.  For many years, the three of us paraded with the band and Dad especially enjoyed the times when we marched in the same row.  In January 1976, Dad, Ken and I played with the Massed Pipes and Drums of Winnipeg in the Rosebowl Parade in Pasadena, CA.


After I had graduated in Science from the University of Manitoba, Dad met the Dean of the College of Optometry who was in Winnipeg to tell the Kiwanians about the advances in the profession and the plans its board of directors had to advance the course of studies.  A university degree would be required for entrance.  Dad introduced me to Dr. Edward Fisher, the Dean, during the few hours he had in the city.  I am thankful that Dad thought this profession would interest me and that I might want to meet the dean.  I credit my Dad for his concern for my future and for letting me know of this opportunity to apply to the College of Optometry.  I enrolled in the new course and ultimately became successful in the profession.  Dad was happy when he could tell his friends that Keith is an optometrist and Ken is a dentist.


While I was studying at the University of Toronto, I didn’t write home as frequently as I should have.  One day, while I was studying in the College of Optometry’s Library, the phone rang and I realized there was no one in the office.  I answered the phone immediately, and recognized my dad’s voice.  He enquired how I was and I wondered if he often phoned the College to ask the dean how I was doing.  I never knew if this was a one and only call, but it was great to hear Dad and to be assured that he and Mom loved me.  Dad said Mom was anxious about me and that I should write to her.


There are numerous other stories reminiscent of my Dad.  I will write about them also.

Men And Their Toys

Tuesday night at the church was a special night.  Once a month we enjoy a mens’ dinner and this one was a barbecue to which we could invite a friend.  Usually, we’ll have a guest speaker to tell about his life or vocation.  This time, one of our members had been asked to tell about his hobby.  It was in making and flying airplanes of all types, with electrically powered motors and radio controls.  Unusual interest was shown among a relatively small group of about 50 men.

The dinner was set in the church library, with barbecuing done conveniently just outside.  Buns and embellishments were ready along with cold soft drinks in a tub.  Our MC told his usual round of short stories and then asked the blessing.  After dinner, our guest speaker told how someone introduced to him to the hobby and how he became engrossed in it.  The property he bought had a natural flying field, causing other men to be attracted to his place, to fly their planes.  At first, he had only a closet of about five feet by two feet, in which to construct and service his planes.  Nevertheless, it was adequate.  Later, he enlarged his workshop to accommodate fourteen planes.  The reason he had fourteen was that one helicopter suffered an accident, which left him with only fourteen.

Our guest hobbyist described how modelers obtained their planes.  They either bought them fully manufactured, or in various stages of construction, even to the extent that the laser-cut parts might have had to be separated out and then constructed according to plans.  Control surfaces such as ailerons, elevators, and tail fins, the pitch of the propeller as well as the speed of the electric motor, have to be operated by electrically controlled rods.  One can buy a complete kit with plane and transmitter for 125 dollars.  Once smitten by the hobby, a person is very likely to invest thousands in bigger planes and sophisticated transmitters.

We were informed about the need to be careful pilots concerning the batteries within airplanes and helicopters.  They must be fully charged.  Flying time must not extend past the limits of the batteries within their controls.  Instances have occurred when this oversight caused the loss of a plane that had gotten out of range of its transmitter.  Visions of a fine model dangling from a tall tree in the forest were in everyone’s mind.  This club specializes in electrically powered models in contrast with other clubs that fly planes with gasoline powered motors.  

We went into the church’s large gymnasium to admire a collection of airplanes of various shapes and sizes.  There were helicopters, acrobatic planes, scale replicas, ones made of flat pieces of Styrofoam and others that didn’t look like planes at all, but were designed to fly by remote control.  A unique model was a quadraplane, with its blue flashing lights.  As it flew, it looked very much like it was an alien ship from outer space.  It was steered from its transmitter that governed the individual speeds of four electric motors.

A fine demonstration of piloting skill was in flying a small lightweight airplane around the auditorium, even as it was caused to loop the loop.  The applause would have been quite satisfying to our guest as he piloted the plane to a safe landing.

In all, the men had a very satisfying evening.  They had had a delicious barbecue, an interesting talk by our guest and an intriguing show of skill and craftsmanship as they watched his planes being flown in the gymnasium.  Possibly some of the men may take up the hobby and enjoy the camaraderie of others who find satisfaction in piloting very maneuverable flying machines even though its all done from the ground.  I was pleased that my own guest had enjoyed a great evening of dinner and entertainment within a friendly atmosphere.

Friday Night with the Grandkids

“How would you like to come over this evening about 7 and have a few games with your grandkids?” was the question from our daughter here in White Rock BC.  We couldn't resist such a thoughtful invitation.  They were ready when we arrived.  The game was, “Apples to Apples,” which they had bought from some money received as a Christmas present from their uncle and aunt.

We had a wonderful time; actually, it was hilarious.  Everyone was given 5 cards and on each of them was a short description for some word that would be announced to everyone.  The object was to select the best description for the word, from our cards, and then defend our selection, regardless of how unlikely it could be.

It was fun to see and hear our eight-year-old lad describe and illustrate the slowest thing on earth.  He said it was a tightrope walker and that he was painfully slow.  He was so slow that there was more action and excitement in looking at his watch as it ticked away the minutes, than to watch and wait for the tightrope walker to take his next step.  He pretended to be a tightrope walker, carefully taking his time in the heights of the circus tent, where one false move would be his downfall.

I argued with him that the slowest thing was a person washing the dishes, that it might take a day to motivate him or her to undertake the task.  Afterwards, one would wait while he or she ponderously scrubbed each dish and utensil with no enthusiasm.  Our daughter reinforced my argument, saying that when she and her brother were living at home, and he would finally be committed to washing dishes with her, he would suddenly decide that he had to go to the bathroom.  It would be two hours before he would resume his dishwashing obligation.

After that, it was our six-year-old granddaughter’s turn to say there was still something that was slower than a tightrope walker or a person who was asked to do the dishes.  She expounded on her concept of the slowest thing on earth.  Her word was “graduation,” so she said the slowest thing was to graduate.  She stood, illustrating with her arms, telling us that to get an education and to graduate was almost a lifetime proposition.  One had to start in nursery school, proceed to kindergarten, and then to grade one.  She went through all the grades to grade twelve where one would graduate and still have to go on to “universary,” as she called it.  Even after a few years there, the task of reaching graduation would only have begun in earnest.  To the family listening, we didn’t have to be convinced that she had won that round.

Other rounds of the game were played before the kids’ bedtime, and they were equally as hilarious.  Describing the biggest object, the prettiest, or the mightiest, were just as mind-boggling.  The evening was most enjoyable with everyone certain we would soon be having another Friday family game night, to determine the best one at comparing “Apples to Apples.”

Twenty-twenty Vision

Ideas for writing a blog are around us.  We need only to be aware of them.  For instance, after a recent church service, there was an Annual General Meeting, an AGM.  It began with a delicious, light luncheon, and then the meeting.  People were relaxed and happy.  It was certainly a good plan.  An agenda and ballots sat by each plate.

Several Sundays previously, a similar luncheon was held.  Business was discussed but not voted upon.  This was called a Town Hall Meeting.  Intervening weeks permitted everyone to think about the decisions to be made.  One needed only to vote at the AGM.  No arguments ensued.  It was the most pleasant meeting a person could imagine.  Afterwards, people visited with one another before going home.

We’ve heard of church general meetings where people argued, complained and accused others of not doing what was expected of them.  Descriptions of the reactions to it were that their stomachs churned, and that meetings at work were more pleasant.  Here, compliments were given to volunteers in various committees and they were assured of being appreciated.  Their devotion to future work was certain.

The secret of success that makes some churches thrive, while others fail, is in the love that binds one another as it does in a loving family.  Words from Jesus make all the difference.  He said, “Love one another as I have loved you, ” “This do in remembrance of Me,” and, “In as much as you have done this for the least of my brethren, you have done it unto Me.”  His words remind us of His sacrificial love; “love beyond human understanding.”  When we remember His love for us and let it dominate a church’s business meeting, the result is wonderful.

Opportunities in a church present themselves for people to use their unique gifts to serve others.  Many useful ministries abound in a church.  They include distributing food to the needy, teaching Sunday School, managing the nursery, teaching English as a second language, supervising floor hockey, conducting a choir, leading the congregation in praise and worship, teaching a vacation Bible School, maintaining the building and its premises or making special meals on occasion.  The purposes of the church will be sustained in the community for years to come when these passionate people and those who follow them, continue to serve the Lord with the abilities He has given them.

Founding members of this church had considerable foresight.  Theirs can be compared to the excellence of having 20/20 vision, which enables a person to see the distant horizon clearly.  They designed a building to accommodate hundreds and with such fine acoustics that it has been the choice of choirs and orchestras.  They built adequate offices and many classrooms.  The recreation hall was built first and today it has countless uses; so many, that it is difficult to find a convenient time for renovations.  Its use as a fellowship hall has been extended to include community activities such as exercise classes and dinners for seniors.  Daily vacation Bible school accommodates a hundred children during the summer.  Children from the neighbourhood benefit from the expert teaching of caring people.  Young people enjoy indoor-supervised sports in this big hall that was for the church’s first few years, its sanctuary.

One would have to use his or her imagination to think of the many activities in this church and the number of devoted individuals who enable them.  Now, with the year 2020 only 9 years away, today’s committees must also have superb vision to maintain the work begun by the founders and continued.  

Those who head mid-week Bible Studies in their homes provide a ministry that is “the heart-beat of the church.”  Study of Scripture provides strength to the group, while love for one another and caring develops.  Genuine friendships are secure, knowing that Christ loves everyone implicitly.

In all, church provides a convenient place for Sunday worship, while its activities extend throughout the week, to include people who don’t ordinarily go to church.  Friendships develop with those who visit.  Frequently, there are new people who join worship services on Sunday.

God has afforded success in the work of this church, and it is attributable to the foresight comparable to 20/20 vision, of our originating members.  Their sight was so exceptional that they could see into the future, which is now ours, to bring the church’s work to the year 2020 and then beyond.  Not only is the facility outstanding, but the management has been too.  Everyone has been using his or her natural abilities to do the church’s work for the sake of others.  They still are, with their work being done as though it were for God and not for man.

At the helm, gifted pastors have been delivering God’s message from the Scripture, keeping their congregations aware that a church is based on God’s love.  They have been personable leaders, loved by their congregations and have realized that people often see things differently.  With foresight, our pastors have eliminated altercations at meetings by having differences discussed in their pastoral office.  The love of God that permeates the church is wonderfully recognized in those quiet sessions and before worship services, in which prayer is an integral part.  Our church leaders have the necessary 20/20 vision that will carry us well into the year 2020 and then beyond.

A Valentine Wedding

I had the pleasure of playing for an afternoon wedding that took place on February 14, 2011.  It’s remarkable how it came about.  A few weeks earlier, my daughter offered to write a brochure to introduce me as a piper for weddings and other ceremonies in the area of White Rock, because we moved to British Columbia a year ago.  She suggested that I should dress in my Highland attire and have her take some pictures of me playing the pipes on White Rock’s beach.

After piping and picture taking, a man whom I hadn’t noticed surprised me by asking if I would play for his wedding, which would be on the 14th.  I accepted and thanked him.  His plan was to be piped in along with his best man, as a surprise to his family, especially his bride.  My daughter remarked on our way home, that we might do well to revisit the beach twice a week.  I’d play the pipes and she could hand out my card.  It was an amusing thought.

This gentleman and his groom were met at the beach half an hour before the ceremony.  He requested “Highland Cathedral,” to commence the ceremony.  His delighted guests, who were gathered on the hall’s balcony, could witness the groom and his best man being piped across the lawn and through the hall’s big doors.  The guests heard the pipes coming up the stairs to the lively tune of a six-eight march, called, “Farewell to the Creeks.”  With a few more measures of music, they were led to the archway.  The commissioner welcomed everyone, then, to a recording chosen by the bride, the flower girl and then the bride’s maid entered, followed by the beautiful bride herself, on her father’s arm.

The groom had taken the precaution not to loose the rings and consequently wore them on his finger where they resisted removal.  The accommodating bride volunteered to accomplish the task at home with a bit of soap and water.  Fortunately, their hold was relinquished, thus reducing everyone’s suspense to only a few moments!

I enjoyed piping for this small and delightful wedding.  Previously, I’ve piped the bride in with “Trumpet Tune,” or a similar classic selection, while my choice to parade the newly married couple from the church would often be “The Highland Wedding March.”  However, this was an intimate wedding designed by the groom who wanted to surprise his bride by being piped in with his best man, and it was obvious that she was delighted.