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Friday, July 22, 2016

My Brother Mark...the Cyclist?

My younger brother Mark proved disruptive upon arriving home last evening fairly early into the 8:00 p.m. start of the latest episode of the T.V. series Between that I was watching.

He had been complaining the day before about the huge traffic delays he always faces in getting off Annacis Island after he finishes work for the day.  He had mused that he might try parking in the morning at some location that would afford him deliverance from a certain bottleneck he always faces after work, and ride a bicycle to the warehouse.

So to that end, last evening he became engaged in trying to pump up the tires of a bike we have that probably hasn't been ridden in at least nine years.

First there was the unrestrained raging and cursing as he met with resistance in extracting the bike from the storage room it was in.

I just walked away from it.

He was soon clearly more contrite, and enlisted me in helping pump the tires, for he needed to clamp a set of pliers onto the tube's air stem where the stem was poking out of the metal tire rim ─ otherwise, each time he tried to attach the pump's nozzle to the tube's air stem, the effort pushed the stem deep into the rim.

Once the clamped pliers were affixed to the tube stem, there was not all that much room for the pump's air-hose to clamp onto the stem, and the hose would just blow off anytime he tried to pump air into the flat tube.

So I first illustrated to Mark that the air hose clamp-lever had to be in the 'up' position to be properly locked onto the tube stem ─ not 'down' as he had thought.

But there still was little stem left to attach the air pump nozzle to due to the presence of the clamped pliers, so I held the pump nozzle firm.

Both tires inflated in short order.

Then I had to hunt up my old bicycle helmet.

And finally I made him realize that unless he was going to be driving the bike all around with him during the day while he was driving the big cargo truck and making his pickups and deliveries, he would need to have the bike locked at his warehouse headquarters.

But I had no idea where we might have a bike lock.

However, after a time when I had returned to my show, he appeared with a combination cable lock, wondering if there was any chance that I knew the combination.

Right.

Heck, I didn't even know we HAD a combination cable lock in the storage room. 

And then he asked me if a certain four digits he read out sounded familiar ─ they were the ones the lock was already set at but which allowed it to pull open.

The digits were familiar ─ they were the last four digits of a cellphone number my wife Jack used to have when she lived in Thailand.

So he was set!

All that remained was to see if the tires were still inflated this morning when he was readying to leave for work.

He sets his clock-radio for 4:20 a.m., so I certainly wasn't up when he came downstairs for the day.  However, the bike, helmet, and lock are gone, so he clearly took them.

He was gone by the time there was a huge clap of thunder at about 6:00 a.m. that sounded just outside my open bedroom window.  We had a dry night, though.

I guess I'll be hearing how things went once he comes home this evening.  He had estimated he would only need to cycle for about 10 minutes to get from the one place to the other.

I hope it went really well and he's feeling encouraged.

I was interrupted by the doorbell while I was recounting those events of last evening ─ it was a representative from Telus.

I had thought that it was a postman ─ I would not otherwise have answered the door.

Nevertheless, the young fellow proved to be bearing an interesting offer involving hooking up to their fibre-optic system for cable television and Internet.

I think this will be their Optik TV.

From his spiel, we would save a fair amount of money.

We're with Shaw, but their Internet is via a copper wire.  And they're hiking our monthly rate by $7 (plus taxes) at month's end for the services they provide.

Telus charges less per month ─ and they'll even throw in a PVR.

I think Mark has a Telus-based cellphone service; the chap said that if so, then Mark will get an immediate $5 credit.

We'll also be given a $100 credit for switching over to them. 

Anyway, I'll talk it over with Mark on the weekend when he's sober.

As for the rest of my day, I worked this morning on the new post I have on the go at my Thai-Iceland website.

My youngest step-son Pote apparently never had to go to work again until the early afternoon, so I had him home all morning ─ at least his girlfriend never stayed the night.

It was overcast all morning, but sunny breaks started appearing as the mid-afternoon approached.

Finally, my wife Jack texted me that she'll be making an appearance from Vancouver late this evening, but I will have to wait and see if she's going to spend then night.

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Here are a couple of old photographs I scanned ─ the descriptions beneath them are from the Google album where I have them filed:

As you can see at the top of the image, the photo was probably from a roll of film developed sometime in September 1969.

That is my mother Irene Dorosh, although Dorosh was not yet her married name at that time.

She wrote the following description on the reverse of the photo:

"Me feeding the baby goats in San Franciso Pk."

Or at least, I think the final two initials were 'Pk' ─ perhaps indicating an unnamed San Francisco park?
The September 1969 dating is probably when the roll of film was developed, and not when this photo was taken.

From what my mother Irene Dorosh wrote on a companion photo, the scene is likely some unnamed park in San Francisco.
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And at this point, I am choosing to close off for the day with an entry from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

My room was being rented in a house located on Ninth Street, just about right at Third Avenue.

However, I was into my second week of sleeping overnight at the home of my younger brother Mark and his girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther ─ they had gone on a trip to the Edmonton area, and needed me to tend to their dear German shepherd Daboda.

Their home was in Whalley ─ specifically, on Bentley Road, not too very far at all from the intersection of 108th Avenue & King George Highway.

I was getting back and forth on foot. 

Compounding matters was the fact that my mother Irene Dorosh and her husband Alex had gone on a trip 'back East" that week, and I was to keep a check on their home while they were away.

It also happened to be my mailing address ─ the house is now gone, but its address in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey was 12106 - 90th Avenue.  The house was roughly 4¼ miles from the one Mark and Jeanette were renting.
TUESDAY, July 22, 1975

On this sunny day I was up before 7:30 a.m.

I cooked my chicken stew, having some for breakfast.

I believe the Province paperboy came collecting, but that is one expense I am leaving for the residents to handle.

I shall commence my homeward walk about 11:45 a.m. in my newest blue bodyshirt, one I am not happy with due to its puffy effect.  I think I'll not wear it again.

I hiked home.

I sunned my torso for 2 hours a short ways up the tracks later when I headed for mom's.

When I got to her place I had some raspberries with cream.  

The 2 Greenpeace Lottery tickets arrived.

My best sighting today was a girl on a bicycle who passed me after I turned onto, I believe, Roebuck.

I am getting quite weary of this excessive walking.  I've lost no weight really, and I believe my calves may even be thinner.

I sure wish Mark & Cathy would get back so I can settle in at mom's.  Daboda will require more dog food; and the paperboy caught me after I got home, but couldn't give me $1 back from the five I had.  I full intend to avoid him.

Toward 10:15 p.m. Bill phoned.

I'll be abed about 11:50 p.m.
The Province is still publishing today, and we happen to subscribe to the Sunday edition.

Anyway, late that morning, I evidently set off and hiked back to my room in New Westminster.

Then awhile later, I set off for my mother's home ─ normally, that walk from my room would take about 1½ hours at a goodly pace.  However, on this day I stopped for a couple of hours in order to sun my upper body.

I normally would take to the railway tracks shortly after crossing over the Pattullo Bridge into Surrey; so I would have stopped to sun before reaching Old Yale Road as you may be able to see on this Google map

And then I would continue along the tracks to where they crossed Scott Road (120th Street) at 99th Avenue (as may be apparent on this Google map). 

From there, I would take Scott Road the remainder of the way. 

The lovely cyclist must have been sighted as I was headed from my mother's home to where Mark's home was ─ Roebuck Road is the old name for 132nd Street.  However, these many years later, I don't know from which Avenue I would have turned onto that street ─ 90th Avenue (the location of my mother's home) doesn't intersect with 132nd Street. 

No one unfamiliar with this area can likely appreciate the amount of walking involved in covering what I did that day.   

It was my old friend William Alan Gill who phoned me later that evening.

I'm rather curious about that paperboy ─ I rather think that he must have had to leave me without the subscription payment if he did not have change for the $5 bill.  That would have to be why I wrote that I had every intention of avoiding him after that ─ he would undoubtedly ensure that he had the change the next time he came calling. 
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