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Thursday, July 28, 2016

An Irresistibly Exciting Late Movie = An Unplanned Late Night

My wife Jack texted me early last evening that she would be coming home later that evening, once she'd helped shut down Mango Thai Restaurant in Vancouver for the night.

It closes at 10:00 p.m., and she is involved in a general clean-up after that.

So I left the T.V. on and waited up.

As it happened, she would be coming home to spend the night.

While I was watching some news on T.V., it was mentioned that the International Space Station was easily visible in the Vancouver area at night, despite all of the light pollution.

So I went online to seek a website that might tell me when it was due to pass overhead, and I came upon the following at spotthestation.nasa.govISS sightings over your city.

It indicated that the station would be cruising by from the West at 11:56 p.m.

So, at the appointed time, I went outside.

Initially I was looking in the wrong direction, but there are so very few visible stars any longer hereabouts that in no time the very brightest 'star' quickly became apparent as moving rather swiftly.

And I realized that it was indeed emanating from the West.

Back when I was in my early teens towards the mid-1960s (I turned 14 in October 1963), the night sky was so darned rich with stars here in north Surrey ─ even the Milky Way was absolutely striking.

On a warm late evening, one could lie outside and just stare up at the myriad of sights up there, and satellites ─ and satellite debris ─ were almost constant if one was patient in discovering them.

Back then, some were so faint and slow-moving, they were often difficult to detect even in such a clear night sky.

It was always a bit of a sensation to see a blinking object moving slowly across the dark heavens.

A young and fanciful mind easily imagine UFOs, but even then I understood that it was likely just a hunk of debris slowly spinning as it moved along in its trajectory ─ whenever the thinnest edge of the metal sheet (or whatever it was that was passing along up there) confronted the onlooker, the light of the 'star' would turn off because there was insufficient material to reflect the Sun's light.

That sort of entertainment is no longer possible, thanks to light pollution of the sky.

And I have grown more ignorant about the night sky and its constellations.  I pity kids today around here who won't have the stellar memories that I do, for they are not growing up with the heavens I knew.

It was a late night for me last night.  I never made it to bed until 2:55 a.m. because I became engrossed in a commercial-free movie on Turner Classic Movies Canada (TCMC) as I sat up and waited for Jack to 'hit the hay.'

The movie was Heaven's Gate.

Oh, it had some terribly dreary parts ─ I even tuned out a couple of times to watch some talk shows.

But when it came to the final segment of the movie involving the Wyoming Stock Growers Association gang of some 50 armed killers who were assigned to wipe out 125 members of the immigrant community, I couldn't bear to quit watching.

All of the immigrant community finally decide to fight back ─ and men, women, and it seemed even children, raced on horseback, in wagons, and even on foot to confront the advancing mass of armed killers.

I had never seen anything like this.

Let's just say that it didn't go all that well for the poor immigrant settlers.

I was disappointed in the very final scene of the movie, for I didn't understand it.  Wikipedia has at least given me some sense of what it was that I saw, but I still don't quite fathom it.

Possibly due to the excitement that the fighting scenes in the movie had generated in me, I  had a difficult time finally getting to sleep.

Come the morning, I remained in bed with the hope that Jack would have some appointed time at which she would be wanting to get up, but this didn't turn out to be so.

I finally eased myself up not all that much ahead of 10:00 a.m.

Jack was to remain in bed at least another 1½ hours.

That gave me some time to continue the edit of an old post at my website My Retirement Dream.  I commenced the edit on Tuesday, but now I don't see me getting it completed until at least Saturday.

My youngest step-son Pote was up when I rose ─ he was not to start work until he early afternoon.

So when his mother finally got up, she had time to get busy with some cooking and other chores.

Then late in the noon-hour she drove him to work, and I knew that she would be shopping and probably running other errands.  It would give me time to sit out in the backyard to soak up some more Sun.

I sat in a chair on the lawn and ─ attired just in cut-offs, and facing into the Sun ─ I bore 40 minutes out there.  It's a hot day!

Jack never returned until well after I had finished.

Once she was back home, she was in something of a rush to get ready to return to Vancouver, but she managed to find the time to have me take some photographs of her with her iPhone 6 out in the backyard.

I didn't push it to try and get some photos of her of my own.

And by about 2:30 p.m., or very soon after, she was on her way back to Vancouver and Mango Thai Restaurant.


I want to post an old family photo now ─ the description beneath it is from the Google album where I have the scanned image stored:
This is my mother Irene Dorosh ─ her husband Alex is likely photographing her, for there is a companion photo of him posing in roughly the same place.

Fortunately, someone (Alex?) wrote a brief description on the reverse of this photo, so now I know when and where the pair of photos were taken:

"IRENE.  1972 In Downtown Hollywood"
This is the image I previous posted quite some while ago that featured my mother's husband Alex:


I don't take probiotics ─ I probably should.  But I do try to have sufficient raw vegetation in my diet that my gut bacteria are happy with things, and doing their utmost to keep the noxious lifeforms to a minimum.

One thing I am quite unclear of, though, is if a diet containing lots of raw ginger and even raw garlic might prove damaging to those desirable bacteria?

After all, if ginger ─ and especially garlic ─ have any germicidal properties, then wouldn't that mean they would also harm the good germs?

This is why we are not supposed to be so damned liberal in our use of antibiotics ─ they kill indiscriminately, but the bad bacteria are coming to learn how to be resistant to these drugs.

And with more and more 'superbugs' proliferating in our environment, it's becoming more and more important to have a thriving population of beneficial bacteria living in and on us.  They are our most reliable defence against the killer bugs.

I don't trust pharmaceutical giant Merck, but they were evidently behind a recent study that discovered that infections by the 'superbug' Clostridium difficile seem to be on the rise within the community (as opposed to those that are contracted while in a hospital).

The basis of the study was the States, but I can't see why the same spread would not be general worldwide.

An article about this is here:

You or I may even have the germ inhabiting us, but in too low levels to do harm.

However, all that could change with an eradication of our good gut bacteria by an antibiotic that gives the resistant C. diff. the edge it has been waiting for.

That is what got me wondering about things like a heavy intake of foods like raw garlic ─ could that have an almost antibiotic effect?

I just don't know, and it does bother me.

Another thing that bothers me is the amount of hidden fructose in our diets ─ especially HFCS.  But even added sugar is a problem.

Beverage corporations do their best to keep the lie going that their products are not only doing minimal harm, but are actually healthy when consumed moderately.

On June 30, the Huffington Post ran a report concerning ─ well, the title says it all:

Another website was less measured in its condemnation of the woman, as this July 12 article amply reveals:

As you would quickly see if you referenced that article, it was expounding upon one published the same day at Mercola.com:

We cannot rely upon our government agencies to protect us, nor to give us the truth.

And we certainly cannot rely upon anything that emanates from pharmaceutical giants or food and beverage manufacturing corporations.

We need to read widely and think for ourselves.


I close now 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.

However, my old friend William Alan Gill and I had just spent our second night at the campsite my younger brother Mark had set up with his girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther beside the Chilliwack River near Chilliwack.

It had rained that night.

Also camping were Jeanette's two beautiful little girls, and the family's wonderful German shepherd Daboda.
MONDAY, July 28, 1975

Bill & I got up early and revived the fire.

It had stopped raining, but the trees dripped.

We discovered Daboda had eaten all the steak.

Tired and bored, after packing up our blankets, Bill & I set off and followed "Centennial Trail," nearly across the highway from our camp turn-off.  We followed it with the dog till it ended at another road.

Coming back, near the end of our journey (after originally starting off, he walked into a stick that jabbed him in the thigh), going down a decline, he lost footing and ran heavily into a tree; shortly after, he slipped and slid a couple feet on his seat.

Back at camp, all were up; Mark was wroth with his steak-eater.

We had a poor breakfast, and weren't long in breaking camp.

The kids rode with Bill & I.

We didn't stay long at Mark's after dropping off the kids; we drank the quart of milk Bill had bought himself & I, Mark removed 2 cans of beer we had been unable to retrieve from the insides of Bill's car wall (they worked there from under the hood), and we roughly set up the tent to dry.

Bill phoned his mother, who was at his place; she was unavailable yesterday when he called from the States.

He took me home, and shortly after, I slept a few hours, first finding a letter requesting I see Jeffs Thursday.  Probably it is about a "contract" all S.A.N.E. incentive workers are supposed to sign.

After arising from my nap, I ate a little, then set to work recording the main events of the last few days.

I resumed my exercising later.

Bed by 9:30 p.m.
I should explain Bill:  He was maybe 5 feet 10 inches tall at most, but weighed in excess of 300 pounds.  He also wore thick-lensed glasses (so-called Coke-bottle glasses).

Thus, he did not see at all that well.

I well remember that incident of when he was unable to control his descent down that decline.  He started running helplessly, and smashed so hard into a big tree trunk that I was afraid he had done himself damage.

His glasses continued the descent without him, and I had to retrieve them because he was at that point helpless to ever find them on his own.

Mention of the Centennial Trail rather resurrects lost memories.  I believe that it was to become part of the Trans Canada Trail.  

The two cans of beer Mark removed from Bill's car-wall's interior were remaining from three dozen that Mark, Bill, and I smuggled back from Sumas, Washington, the previous day.  Our part of British Columbia seemed to be in the throes of a beer strike.

Mark and Jeanette were living on Bentley Road ─ not too far from 108th Avenue & King George Highway ─ in Whalley

Bill and I both lived in New Westminster, but he had a bachelor suite ─ he had a full-time job and could afford such accommodation.  Unfortunately, I think Bill was going to have to work that night at the Royal City Foods cannery that used to exist alongside the Fraser River there in New Westminster..

I only worked one day (usually a Friday) a week through an employment incentive programme in place between New Westminster social services and my employer, S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends), that now calls itself Fraserside Community Services Society.

The letter I found after Bill got me to my room was from my social worker, Russ Jeffs.
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