A ballpoint pen?

He looked normal, but obviously wasn't.  This was a guy sitting across from me in the departure area of the Ottawa airport, where I was waiting to board my flight home yesterday to Calgary.  Suddenly, he crossed one leg over the other, took out a ballpoint pen and started to pick away at the bottom of his shoes.  Seriously.  He was chipping out "whatever" from his soles.  When he had collected enough gunk, he went off, dumped it into a trash can and returned to pick out more.   

How could someone do that?!  It was disgusting.

I was in Ottawa for the funeral of my uncle Rollie, as I have said, the last of my parents' generation to leave this world.  What a sad, sad funeral it was.  When someone dies at 99, you have had them for so long you miss them more.  Looking around the church, I was the person who had known him the second-longest, one of my cousins having known him two months longer than I, she was born two months earlier.  My eye makeup took a beating as I bawled them out the entire time, listening to his grandsons and granddaughter honour him with their intimate memories.  I simply could not hold it together.

As my cousin's wife doesn't like me, I opted to stay with a very dear, old friend (would not have been welcome at their place anyway.)  Angele and I go back 30 years, when we met working for EXPO '86.  We had such a great time back then, hitting Vancouver in our mink coats and flying in and out every month.  We hit it off then and have stayed in touch ever since.  Arriving at her place on Thursday evening, we picked up where we had left off more than two years ago, the last time we were together.  She is a pistol and puts up with nothing.  We ate, drank and made merry for three days. 

You have to love WestJet.  On the flight to Ottawa, one of the stewardesses bumped into me. "Oh, I am so sorry,"  It was nothing, but when I ordered a white wine she said, "This is on me 'cause I bumped into you."  Who does that?  On the flight home, I asked to be upgraded to "plus", but they were sold out.  "This is on me," said another stewardess when I ordered a beverage.  "I am so sorry we couldn't upgrade you."  As if that were her fault, but she did it anyway.  Can you imagine Air Canada doing that?!

But back to the funeral.  I did manage to get a civil and welcoming greeting from my cousin's wife, someone who no longer likes me because I wrote a blog to which she objected (?).  You know readers, you have to have a sense of humour to read my blog.  I take the mickey out of everyone, but mostly out of myself.  If you can't laugh at yourself, you should not read this blog.  But it was not about us, it was about my dear Uncle Rollie and his family, so we rose to the occasion.  "Where is D?" I asked my late cousin's ex-husband (D is her widower).  "Playing golf in Florida," he replied.  D should have been there, after all he raised Rollie's grandsons.  Never warmed to the guy and he showed why.  He did not show up.

But there was Rollie's ex-son-in-law, there with his wife, there were his grandsons........all class acts who showed up -- two of whom flew in from Toronto the morning of.  The big surprise was when A.J. Frieman walked in.  "I was always a big fan of Rollie," said yet another middle-aged ex-teenager who was in love with Rollie's late daughter Betty-Anne.  I was initially surprised, but of course wasn't when I thought about it for one second.  Of course A.J. would be there.  We all go back such a long, long way.

Farewell to a giant and a prince.  Thank you to my dear friend, Angele.  It was a great visit.

        

The last time I saw him, ever a great guy.  Proud WW II veteran and class act.