Plaster Rock

I'm starting to find myself seeing stories everywhere. Going through the day, and oh - there's a potential story, and here's something that definitely needs to get into the next blog, and here's something that I'd better do a bit of research on before shooting my mouth off, and more often then not: "Frick really? I had no idea. That's definitely something to tell folk." Stuff we come across, people we meet, moments we have, patterns that start to emerge, all of these are little pictures that chronicle the day. And I'm starting to note them as they happen. I imagine it is much like how I imagine a photographer views the world, framing a moment in time and cropping it to let us know where they focussed, what stuck to them. And as everyone can look at the same thing yet see something different - I for instance see bunnies - I expect we all end up with different stories that comprised our day.

Let me say for the record that I am pleased as punch about this. Seeing stories that is, not the bunnies.

Switching metaphors for a moment, I suspect one of the difficulties/dangers/styles, that could emerge from all of this is the list, or perhaps if you took the time to cull it a little, the highlight reel. Today's Top Ten. And what a great thing to do. All the moments that could be popped down in bullet form so that each one was captured. Would that tell a story though? I imagine it would, but would anyone know why those items made the list? Would I remember why each of those events made it? Is a mnemonic enough?

I don't know. What I do know is that I think I want to write as many stories as I can, and draw up as few lists (which will be tough as I am somewhat of a Type A) as possible. No one ever gets the full story anyway. Even the people living it.

So why am I rambling on about this? Well, if you're a student of foreshadowing, you may have guessed that our day yesterday travelling from Charlevoix QC to Plaster Rock NB was a day that warrants a highlight reel. You would be correct.

The day started in Charlevoix with pig on the air. The end of the day in Plaster Rock ended with skunk. Isn't symmetry wonderful? Okay, bookending the day with striking olfactorial intrusions does not symmetry make, but wait, there's more. Leaving Charlevoix and travelling west back to Quebec had us travelling the north side of the St. Lawrence through the Laurentian mountains. Crossing over the St. Lawrence had us soon moving east and through the Appalachians. See? See? And while not the chronological midpoint certainly the symbolic midpoint of the day would be the crossing over from Quebec to New Brunswick. And yes, this actually did come with a bit of a fanfare. I cheered. I clapped. I haven't been to New Brunswick before, so entering a new province was a moment for celebration, even if just a little one.

And some great discoveries along the way. The touchscreen radio for example. After a couple of days of scanning the FM band, constantly shifting from clear, to fuzzy, to french talk radio, to fuzzy, we decided that, even though it was Sunday, that we would try out the SAT button. Ah! Behold! Satellite radio. Not a button dedicated to the seven day of the week, or sixth depending on how you want to count. Now we have 20's on 2, 30's on 3, 40'4 on 4, and you get it I hope. Not to mention the other 181 stations. And yes, 80's on 8 is where we spent the most of our time, though 70's on 7 did creep in now and again, and we even tried Hits 2K on 10, but only for a minute.

Another great discovery - for me anyway. The fact that there were two zip lines spanning it suggests others were already aware, not to mention Sherri had told us it was coming up on the right, so maybe "discovery" is the wrong word. Anyway, this other thing we saw (see, while more accurate, certainly not as cool sounding as discovery) was Grand Falls, a water fall in NB that, in springtime has a waterflow 9/10 ths that of Niagara Falls. I mean - holy cow, that's a lot of water.

But the greatest one along the way, and likely why I feel like I now am overflowing with way too many stories to ever tell, were the people. Sherri's family in Plaster Rock. People all carry their stories, and make their stories, and each time you meet someone you get to hear these stories, make new stories with them, and share your stories, sometimes discovering that you had stories you didn't know you have.

And that's what happened the moment we arrived at Sherri's Aunt Heather's home. Family and friends were all there. Food was out and already well gotten in to (we were running late apparently). Immediately welcomed, and immediately hearing stories. The stories they shared are their stories to tell, so I am not going to tell them here. But there were stories. Stories of travel, stories of family, stories of Plaster Rock and its community. Surprisingly no embarassing stories of Sherri, for which I am sure she is a tad relieved. We didn't need more material. It was an evening of stories.

Wonderful warm, welcoming, amazing people, with amazing stories. And, as I already mentioned, the opportunity for new ones. I think Sherri's Aunt Angie summed it up best: Some of the worst decisions make for the best stories. And while I don't think there was any poor decision making on anyone's part, the day did end with a good story.

The end of the evening saw the five of us settling down with Heather at her dining room table, which I should mention is in this amazing log house on the banks of the Tobique river, river stone hearth and chimney rising up through the great room, the whole bit. We had settled down to play Mexican Train, a variation on dominoes that the boys and I first learned to play over New Years in Kitchener with Marc, Sherri and our teacher in this, Sherri's mom Colleen. I won't explain all of the rules of the game, but the basics is it gets to be quite long as you play many, many rounds as each round starts with one of the double tiles, and you need to work your way through all of the doubles. We were playing with the highest tile being a double twelve, so that was twelve rounds.

Anyway, it got late. Thomas, a family friend, whose family had built and lived in the house we were playing cards in, was outside doing some latenight gardening with his dog Maggie. At one point we all heard a sound from outside, something like a whine or animal cry, depending on who you ask. We promptly ignored it and continued on with the serious business of Mexican Train. Then we heard the front door. Then Maggie came running in and hid under the table we were all at. Then Thomas came running in calling for Maggie to come out, apologizing profusely for her getting in, and saying she got sprayed by a skunk. Then we smelled skunk.

Ah, symmetry.