Why My Brother Did Not Fly

My brother was in the air force in the late 1950s, wiring power stations on the DEW line. He reached points in the Arctic earlier than most of us knew they existed. He was in his late teens, trying, I suppose, to figure out what he would do with his life. While he wasn't a pilot, his responsibility was quite remarkable for his young years. Or so it seemed to us in his family, still 'at home' in Bourlamaque, Quebec, although away at school during the academic year.


It seems bizarre now that we did not know until years later that during this time, John was in a plane that crashed as it came in for a landing in Edmonton. He broke two legs. For years, before I knew this, I thought it quite odd that he would not go far afield, at least no further than he could drive or travel by bus or train. He would sit up through the days and nights en route from Winnipeg when he came to visit family in Toronto. I believe he did the same thing in the other direction when he went to see our sister in Vancouver.


When we were all adults and he came to Toronto to visit our mother on one occasion, he stayed with me that week and we talked more than we had in ages. It was then he told me the story of the air crash and I understood finally why he would not fly!

#6. Life of a Writer. Move Accomplished. Now What?

Well, friends and readers and visitors, it's done. I've moved. And after a month of unpacking, rearranging, organizing, getting estimates and then getting the jobs done, I am settling in. I figure it will take a year to decide where to hang paintings and photographs and to get a few pieces of furniture to fill the gaps. Not sure where to start, but after a few days in Montreal I came 'home' (yes, it's home now) and realized it's time to start writing again.


Two pieces of flash fiction later, I hauled out (or downloaded) a number of pieces I am contemplating doing further work on to see where to begin. I haven't really decided, but have revised 3 stories in a collection and read through the first two chapters of a mystery novel, also in progress. I guess the main thing is that I can now take part of each day to work on these and other things as I establish a work routine for my new environment.


More to the point in some ways, the leaves outside my window have changed from the fragile first buds of spring to full-blown green leaves. This is what I see from every vantage point in this new location, even though I am downtown and central now. Also see the sky, which has been clear and blue today. Last night I was fascinated with the dark thunder clouds that rumbled in. It reminds me of observing sky from a cottage on a lake in northern Quebec in childhood, from a beach on a Gulf Island, from anywhere where a view of the sky was unobstructed.


I think this will be a good place to write as well as a good place to live! Wish me luck...