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  Over the years, we have tried to transform our backyard into a place of peace and restfulness, a retreat surrounded by nature. With that in mind, the most obvious way to achieve this was to build a pond. We had already planted a Saucer Magnolia when our daughter was born, and a Galaxy Magnolia when our son came into this world. Perennial flower beds and spring flowering shrubs bordered the yard. Cardinals, robins, and a variety of sparrows regularly visited the numerous bird feeders that we hung in our trees. The mourning doves pecked at the seeds on the ground. It was lovely to sit out the back and enjoy the splendours of nature, to read a favourite book, or just lie peacefully under the shade of one of our trees. Still, something was missing….

Our first attempt at building a pond consisted of a pre-formed liner and waterfall, a few goldfish, one water lilly, and some water lettuce. It was not long before we decided to put the shovels to work and dig a much larger one, which would be home to a few more goldfish, some koi, water lillies of different colours, a more realistic waterfall made of flagstone, and of course, a bridge…..

Now, when we retreat to our backyard sanctuary, we are surrounded by nature where the background music is the trickling water from the waterfall, the birds, crickets, and the occasional toad that comes to cool off on a lilly pad. Dragonflies and damselflies pay regular visits to the pond and butterflies seem to enjoy our Purple Cone Flowers. It is not unusual to see a hummingbird, a garden snake, or even a Great Blue Heron in our backyard…..

Our garden is our sanctuary, a moment or two of tranquility as we re-connect with nature.

Lydia and Don Jackson

“Far up some brook’s still course, whose current mines the forest’s blackened roots, and whose green marge is seldom visited by human foot, the lonely heron sits, and harshly breaks the sabbath silence of the wilderness; and you may find her by some reedy pool, or brooding gloomily on the time-stained rock beside some misty and far-reaching lake.” The words of an unknown writer from a very long time ago left out one other place you might find the great blue heron: on my property, gazing intently at the koi and goldfish in my huge outdoor pond.

 A few days back, we found evidence that some predator had been stalking our back gardens. We thought it might have been a raccoon since we regularly see him on his nocturnal rounds. One night, I watched one that weighed well over twenty pounds try to remove the lid from one of our garbage cans. He knew I was watching him and seemed to dare me to try to interfere with what little progress he was making. He eventually tired of it and sauntered away. The occasional garden snake will get into the water and go after our fish. This time, however, we knew we had big trouble. A great blue heron had come to answer the call of the dinner bell…

 We are careful to keep an eye on the fish population because we do know they breed. Late in the spring or early summer we see the ones that hatched, so we have a fair idea how many fish there are during any one season. After we realized that something had been nosing around, we discovered we had lost a few of the goldfish. Thankfully none of the older group of koi had been attacked, but the entire population was down in the deepest part of the pond, skittish and hiding. My pond began small and is now rather large. It holds about 1,500 gallons of water and at its deepest point is almost five feet. The fish were down deep and would not come up to the surface to feed. It was that fact that that led us to believe that something really big had unnerved them. We have water lilies, tropical taro and water irises growing in the pond. They provide shade to help moderate the water temperature in the high heat of summer. They also provide camouflage from any heron flying overhead. There was evidence that some of the lily pads had been disturbed and damaged, as well.

 We let our dog out yesterday morning at one point and she began furiously barking. A neighbour saw the heron on the property and she was at the door just as my wife had gone into the yard to see what had spooked the dog. We then knew what we had to do. We had to keep a close eye on the pond.

 We had a heron problem some years back. At the time, our pond was a small insert that fit into a hole in the ground. We came outside one morning to find half the fish missing. Our neighbour across the street also has a pond and he had put up the call that a heron was seen flying overhead. When you find others who share the same interest in outdoor ponds you begin a network of sorts. If there is a problem with fish, plants or disease, you have others who might be able to offer advice. When the call goes up that a heron has been seen on the wing, the network becomes vigilant. An adult heron can decimate the population in a pond in very short order.

 There can be a lot of money invested in fish stock especially if the pond owner has an interest in Japanese koi. Go to any garden center that has tanks of these fish and you will soon discover that this is not a hobby to be taken lightly. Depending on the size and the highly prized coloration, these fish can run from $35 all the way up into the hundreds of dollars, and in some rare instances, thousands of dollars. It is one thing if a heron gets one of the smaller and cheaper goldfish; it’s another thing if it develops expensive tastes for the much larger and not easily replaced Japanese koi. That’s why we needed to find a way to persuade the heron to find other feeding grounds.

 After our first experience with the heron, one of the professionals at a local garden center suggested we place a “fake” heron on the property. He said that these birds are extremely territorial. They won’t feed in a place where they see another heron. The trick is to move the fake bird, because these creatures are somewhat intelligent. We were doing this up until this season and we became rather lax in moving it around. We thought our herons had moved on. …We were wrong. This one was seen standing right beside the fake one, as it scanned the water looking for its meal.

 A heron will stand for hours in one spot. It is the model of patience. It won’t move after it has settled into the water on its stilt-like legs. After the fish have settled down, one or two will make the mistake thinking the danger has passed, and come close to the surface. That’s when the heron sees its opportunity. This is not a bird that makes mistakes. It watches…and waits, and is most often rewarded for its patience. Since we knew the heron had been in the water we needed to come up with a way to create a barrier between it and our fish. Plastic chicken wire is the answer, we hope…

 We bought a huge roll today and carefully placed it over the taller plants and the water. The mesh is too tight for the heron to get its long bill through. We hope it will be enough to persuade it to find another feeding ground. We will also be vigilant for fear the creature might get stuck in the mesh. We may not be pleased with its visit, but we don’t want to see it harmed in any way.

 I was not pleased to discover that we had a heron problem again. My wife reminded me of something that I had forgotten. We have a huge ravine close to where we live. A small stream meanders its way through it and empties into a rather large pond. Over the years, the pond has become polluted, its water level down this year due to our dry conditions, and I would imagine the fish population is also down. The bird was just trying to survive and feed its family with its natural habitat at risk. It’s had to look elsewhere in order to survive. Our fish population was higher this year than most. We ran the risk of it being over-crowded. Nature provides the balance. We helped the creature in these difficult times. … My wife, ever the eternal optimist, ready to see the silver lining in any dark cloud.

 I would be interested to hear from you if you share our passion for the outdoors. If you have created a pond environment on your property and have had heron problems I would like to hear about your experience. Feel free to post a comment. Maybe you have a unique insight into this. I’d also like to hear from environmentalists and professionals in the field of outdoor garden pond environments.

 My radio show tonight will develop this theme since its taken up so much of my time in the real world. I hope you will tune in between 9 and 11pm.

 Ernest M’Gaffey, in volume 7 of The New Teachers and Pupils Encyclopedia: Study For Instruction, published by the Holst Publishing Company in 1924, wrote,

“Grotesque and tall, he stands erect/Where the reed-riffle swirls and gleams–/Grave, melancholy, circumspect,/A hermit of the streams.”

 ***

 Don Jackson

“September morn. We danced until the night became a brand new day. Two lovers playing scenes from some romantic play. September morning still can make me feel that way..”

 I spent a very enjoyable few hours this afternoon connecting once again with someone who means the world to me.

 The man who stood up with me at my wedding in July of 1990 was here to help celebrate his mother’s 90th birthday today. My wife and I were invited to join in the festivities.

 I have to tell you a little about him. Of all the people I call “friend” in this world he is the only one who has the word “best” in front of it. Not only was he my “best man,” he is also my very “best” friend.

 His name is Don Bader. Some of you who are former Montrealers might know him better as “Don Richards.” He was a familiar face and voice in many nightclubs around Montreal over the years. Not only is he an accomplished singer and musician, he is also an extremely talented songwriter, too. He wrote enough songs to record an album some years back. I even played it for a time on my radio show.

 I have worked evenings for quite a few years now. This show, as I have mentioned in an earlier blog, started in the early 1908s. He was an instrumental part in helping me put together the concept of background music behind my spoken word material. He was also a guest on Lovers and Other Strangers from time to time. For a time he even hosted his own radio show in Montreal. When this show was in its infancy, he was a huge source of inspiration to me.

 Today was his mother’s 90th birthday. She lives at a beautiful home for elderly and retired people. Don made arrangements to bring his equipment all the way from Montreal to serenade her as well as all the other residents. It was a fabulous show. He played music that brought back fond memories for those in his audience and there were even a few tears. One of the songs he sang in English and in French was September Morn, which is why I decided to include a few of the lyrics at the beginning of this blog and the song itself to start my radio show tonight.

 His mother was surrounded by family and friends on this very special day, and her son played a performance that would do any mother proud. My wife and I enjoyed listening to him sing once again.. When I think of a “September Song,” I will always think of this milestone birthday, today.

 My thanks to his family who made my wife and I feel very welcome.

 And if you want to know the origins of my son’s name, here it is. My son’s name is Donny, that’s true, but he wasn’t named after me…

 Neil Diamond sang these lines so well…and so did my friend, Don, today..

“September morn. Do you remember how we danced that night away? Two lovers playing scenes from some romantic play. September morning still can make me feel that way…”

 ***

 Don Jackson

 Thomas Carlyle wrote, “The true university of these days is a collection of books.”

 Last night we were in Kingston for a hockey game. My son plays goal on a “AA” rep team representing the city we live in. Kingston is as far east as our loop goes, so I was pleased to make one of our trips this early in the season when the weather was fair. If you have ever driven through Kingston in the dead of winter then you know that it can be a mean drive through ice and snow. Kingston just happens to be located in one of those geographical areas that may see a lot of snow in winter, making for poor driving conditions. There are a lot of snowy towns and cities we will have to travel to this winter to play hockey.

 In the past we have had to drive to tournaments and games through raging, blinding snow storms. During one tournament in Barrie last year, we drove through a freezing rain storm. I almost wiped out on a stretch of highway just outside the city. Someone driving a van lost control of his vehicle in front of a transport truck that was just ahead of us. I didn’t know the van was there. The truck driver saw the van spinning wildly, and got into the other lane. That’s when I saw the van smashed into a guardrail on the side of the road, it’s front end out over my lane. I swerved just in enough time to avoid hitting it. As I alluded to, it’s been a challenge to get my son to his games. It is at these times that I wished he had chosen a summer sport like baseball or soccer rather than hockey, but this is the game he loves and plays so well. I need to ensure my winter driving skills are at their best every year.

 We left early yesterday in order to be at the game by 6pm. My son’s team has to be at every arena one hour before game time. We arrived in plenty of time to stretch our legs and get ready for our next adventure which had nothing to do with hockey.

 We had a sidetrip planned before the start of the game. Our friend who had recently earned her Master’s Degree in history, needed some books returned to the library at Queen’s University. Since we were going to be there we offered to return the research material for her. After dropping my son off, my wife, daughter, and I looked at the map and made our way from the arena, past the penitentiary, and into the heart of the university area.

 It’s been years since I’ve traveled to Kingston. I used to have relatives in Kingston and I remember many family car trips to visit them. I also remember a scout trip to Fort Henry when I was a boy. I don’t ever remember my parents driving past the old Kingston penitentiary. It was eerie looking up at the high walls, the guard towers, and knowing what that facility stands for. My wife commented on the marina that is situated right outside the east wall.

 We made our way through the small side streets looking for the library and a place to park. Even though our friend had given me fairly accurate directions and a map, we still had to stop to ask a few students where we were. I found the ones we talked with courteous and more than willing to help. My friend had warned me that this is their area and they walk across the streets at their leisure. More than once we had to be careful of students returning to their residences from late classes.

 We found the library on a little street of old houses. We parked the car, got out, and carried the books on a short walk that led us to this huge repository of knowledge. There were books everywhere, computers, desks, and alcoves for quiet study. The library was filled with students reading, taking notes, and conversing with others in hushed whispers. My wife began reminiscing about her own university days and said she wished, right at that moment, that she was a student again. Our brief time there brought back a lot of wonderful memories for her. All the while, I think my daughter was taking this new experience to heart. I could see her envisioning a future that waits just a little ahead on the path she now follows. I think both my wife and I were hoping that she would be intrigued by what she saw during our brief visit. This year she began high school which is one step closer to a seat of higher learning and what lies just beyond that horizon.

 James Bryant Conant wrote “He who enters a university walks on hallowed ground.”

 We were definitely on hallowed ground at Queen’s University in Kingston.

 We chatted in the car on the road. She asked us all sorts of questions about university life. My wife was only too happy to answer, as I tried to figure the shortest route back to the arena.

 We arrived just in time for the two teams to be on the ice. I think our mission was accomplished in more than one way last night. While my son’s team played, my daughter did her homework. It was his turn to be on the bench, watching from the sidelines as backup, mentally preparing for the next game and his turn in goal. And through the magic of radio, I was still able to be on the air with you last night…

 Oh, and by the way, our team won the game…

 ***

 Don Jackson

“At the head of the gulch, on one of the largest pine trees, they found the Deuce of Clubs pinned to the bark with a bowie knife. It bore the following, written in pencil, in a firm hand: ‘Beneath this tree lies the body of John Oakhurst, who struck a streak of bad luck on the 23rd of November, 1850, and handed in his checks on the 7th of December, 1850.’”

 An excerpt from Outcasts of Poker Flat published in 1858 and written by Bret Harte [Francis Brett Harte] who lived between 1836 and 1902.

 I spent this past Friday at our town library listening to our local historian give a most entertaining talk. I had been asked by a friend who has just earned her Master’s Degree in history if I would be interested in attending. History to me has always been a dry subject. I do remember one history teacher in high school, though, who just happens now to live next door to my sister. He had a knack for bringing history to life. I enjoyed his class and did well in the subject under his guidance. I’ve always had a curiosity about the origins of the place where my family has put down roots, but I didn’t realize how much history was really at the heart of this place.

 I grew up in the next city over and in my youth spent some time visiting friends in the town I now call home. Then it had a much smaller population and was sleepier by nature than what it is today. As Toronto has grown the suburbs around it have become what has been called “bedroom communities.” Some people choose to live outside the big city and make the commute daily into work. When I arrived here, I had spent many years in Montreal and was surprised to discover how much the smaller communities I remember had grown.

 I arrived late for the talk and tiptoed in to find a seat next to my friend. From that point on I was caught up in the lives of all the colourful characters who have called this place “home.”

 We have a small castle that was built by one of the early sheriffs. He always had a dream to entertain royalty.

 Another early resident had his name mistakenly carved into the side of a bridge that was under construction. The residents of the road that crossed over it were outraged since they felt that the bridge should have the road’s name, which wasn’t the name on the bridge. He never argued the fact that his name was bestowed on the bridge, but he had a fit when the powers-that-be decided to take it off. He did a little investigative work and with a few strokes of an official pen, the road and the point overlooking the lake were changed to his name.

 A young man was murdered on the platform of an old train station in my town. It was a murder that was never solved. Rumors flew about who could have committed such a horrible crime. Some even speculated that the father had killed his own son for the insurance money. Some time later a convicted murder was on the gallows in the United States. As the trapdoor was released he cried out he had another murder to confess..in my town! … It was too late, though. He never got a chance to finish his confession.

 It was even purported that there was a house of ill repute. When the authorities first tried to close her down, the woman who ran the house answered the door carrying a gun. The next time they tried to close her business down, she was at the door brandishing an axe! She was eventually arrested but little or no documentation has survived to say what became of her or if the house still stands today.

 Now, I don’t want you think that where I live has only a sordid past. These were just the more notorious events in its history. Look far enough back in history and you will find colourful characters in just about every city and town. You will also find hard-working, law-abiding ordinary people, too.  Some of those people did some incredible things for my town. All have helped contribute to a town’s rich heritage.

 I had a great afternoon listening to the historian’s talk, looking through old photographs from the town’s archives. These are the people who helped to lay the foundations for what is now a vibrant city. A place I now call “home.”

 It is something I’ve tried to say in my nighttime radio program:

“You always should look back over your shoulder from time to time to see where you’ve been, in order to gain a better perspective about where you’re headed.”

 ***

 Don Jackson

Freeman J. Dyson, in Infinite In All Directions, published by Harper Collins, writes, “The world of biology is full of miracles, but nothing I have seen is as miraculous as the metamorphosis of the monarch caterpillar. Its brain is a speck of neural tissue. Yet with this microscopic clump of nerve cells, it knows how to manage new legs and wings, to walk, to fly, to find its way to Mexico. How are behaviour patterns programmed into the genes of the caterpillar and then translated into the neural pathways of the butterfly? These are mysteries that biologists are far from understanding. The monarch is proof that nature’s imagination is richer than our own.”

 If the migration hasn’t yet begun, it soon will.. Our changing climate may have something to do with the butterfly still visiting our flower gardens this late in the season. I’ve heard it say that this will be a warmer than average fall, and so these creatures may be seen floating by for yet another few weeks. That said, however, the time will come when they will need to be on their way. It’s not their nature to remain behind.

 On September 7th of last year I was driving up the DVP going home from a meeting at work, when I saw a lone monarch butterfly flying gracefully above the stop-and-go traffic. I didn’t think it unusual, even though I’ve never witnessed them over this route before. Then I saw another…and another. I counted 37 of them over the course of a few kilometers. I wondered how many more had flown by behind me. I thought I had witnessed the beginning of their annual migration south. I probably did, but I received an e-mail from a listener just the other day that suggested to me that the beginning of the migration I witnessed may be due to a gentle nudge by us.

 I’d like to thank Stephanie for sending me a wonderful e-mail recounting her recent experience at the butterfly conservatory at Blue Willow Garden in Baldwin. It’s not as complex as the one we’ve all heard about in Niagara Falls, but it is still a place for quiet contemplation of these most delicate and beautiful of nature’s creatures. She was fortunate enough to have received a private tour from the resident butterfly expert, and had a chance to escape, however briefly, our stressed, fast-paced world. She told me in her e-mail that she enjoyed the setting amid beautful, fragrant flowers and relaxing music that no doubt provided the perfect backdrop to this sanctuary.

 She also told me that every September from the second weekend through to the last, there is a release of butterflies. I would imagine that this is in order that they might be inspired to begin their annual migration. This Sunday there will be another release of 300 butterflies between 1 and 3pm. It might make for a wonderful break from the city to take part in the release.

 What I witnessed on September 7th of last year [2006] may have been one of these releases. Since they congregate in such huge numbers in the forests of one specific area in Mexico, it doesn’t surprise me that they might be social creatures, and relieved not to have to make the journey alone.

 Thank you, Stephanie, for sharing your weekday adventure with all the rest of us, and inspiring tonight’s radio show.

 I hope my listeners will tune in for my show tonight, since I will be expanding upon this theme with another line of thinking about a human migration.

 One final note…

 She writes that you can pay to have a tag added to one butterfly and track its progress to Mexico over the internet. This is one of those times that I am in awe of technology.

 Not all of them will make the journey south to its ultimate conclusion. Some may veer off their path in search of a flower that smells particularly sweet and inviting, and decide that it is as good a place as any to spend what little time it has left. A yellow pansy or a purple cone flower, perhaps.

 The poet Rabindranath Tagore reminds us of something that we should never forget in our own lives, during our journey…

“The butterfly counts not months but moments and has time enough.”

 ***

 Don Jackson

John O’Donohue quoted in the Points to Ponder column of the September 2000 issue of the Reader’s Digest, said, “E-mail is like coming home at night after a long day and finding 70 people in your kitchen.”

 I will never forget my mother’s many pen-friends around the world. Through her long association in Guiding and the Brownie movement, she was able to make friends the world over. She treasured her many pen-friends in New Zealand, Australia, Hawaii, the Philippines, England, and Africa. One of her friends was married to a prison guard who worked at the penitentiary in Alice Springs, right in the middle of the most unforgiveable desert in the world–the middle of Australia. She considered her friend in New Zealand almost a sister. They shared many of the same thoughts and beliefs. It was a blow to her when she learned that her friend had passed away. She always wanted to travel to New Zealand, but never made it during her lifetime. She did travel to Hawaii, which was one of her most fondly remembered holidays, and was able to meet her pen-friend there, face-to-face.

 The reason I mention all this is the fact that when she was communicating with her friends around the world she had to rely on those little blue airmail forms we all remember. In one of those little blue forms she was able to condense her thoughts and feelings and to make a contact with a person on the other side of the planet that would last a lifetime. I was always amazed at how succinct she needed to be to fit in all she wanted to communicate with her friends.

 …It would have been so much easier had there been such a thing as a personal computer or a cellphone with text messaging capabilities in her time. Her communication took, on average, a week to arrive at their destinations, and another week or so before she received a reply.

 Connections.. In this world, we are all connected. In this technological age it is so easy to make contact with someone. All you need is an e-mail address, and a computer or cellphone. Text messaging has made instant communication that much easier. I always think what her life would have been like had she the capability for instant communications with her friends all over the world. In her world, the only virus she had to contend with might have been a head cold.

“You can send a message around the world in one-fifth of a second, yet it may take years for it to get from the outside of a man’s head to the inside.”

 A quote from Charles F. Kettering, and quoted in the Points to Ponder column of the November 1993 issue of the Reader’s Digest magazine.

 When my radio network first went on the air, we constructed a website for it. It was nothing fancy, just a page or two of information and a way to contact me. One of my network producers in Vancouver would sift through the mail every day, delete the ads and other spam, ensure I wasn’t getting a virus, and then forward the mail off to me. I tried to answer as many of the e-mails that I could each and every day, conscious of the fact that I needed to research and write a show for broadcast that night. Occasionally a virus would sneak its way through and my system would crash. Do you remember the “I Love You” virus? I got one from an old boss at the time. I knew this had to be a bug…

 I’ve always had a very capable tech close to where I live who has always been able to handle my virus issues. Sometimes, though, even he was baffled by a particularly virulent bug. There were times I lost a pile of unanswered mail in the process. Sometimes he was able to save everything.

 Has your computer ever burst into flames? Mine did about a year back. Who knows what happened, but when I attempted to boot up the computer in my home office, it sparked and caught on fire. Even with backups, I needed this system up and running every day. This computer is my livelihood. I called my tech and he took the machine in right away, and within a few days worked his magic. Those were the longest few days I can remember.

 He had saved most of everything, but I think I lost some of the mail. Since I work out of my home office, and not in a large workplace, I need to bring the computer to my tech’s shop. If I worked at the company, I no doubt would have had an IT person at my work station within minutes. In my real world, I’ve always had to contend with traffic and stop lights, and the hope that he was in his business, and not out on another call.

 I am the “entire” staff of my radio show. My wife helps out as much as she can, but in the end the buck stops with me. I spend the better part of my day just researching and preparing these programs for broadcast each night. My son is also a rep goalie on a “AA” team and we travel a lot now. It may take me some time to respond to an e-mail, so please be patient with me. Be assured that each and every e-mail is important to me. It’s the way we make contact after a show that has left some kind of positive or emotional impression on you. I will write to you just as soon as I can.

 I always try to ensure that I answer each and every e-mail that arrives concerning the show, but there have been some that have been most likely lost to extremely nasty viruses that my anti-virus software missed, and the fire. I wanted to take this blog to apologize to you if, after sending me an e-mail, you never heard back from me. Your e-mail may have been lost during one of these times. I truly am sorry for this. There have been other times when I go back through my inbox, and find one that was never opened. I can’t tell you why it was missed, it just was, but I always responded. Again, I feel terrible for this mistake, for temporarily misplacing the most important e-mail of them all–the one I missed reading when it arrived–yours..

 My mother’s little blue airmail form and my old electric typewriter have always looked appealing during times of trouble.

 ***

 Don Jackson

“Who has seen the wind? / Neither you nor I, / But when the trees bow down their heads, / The wind is passing by.”

That’s Stanza 2 from Who Has Seen The Wind by Christina Georgina Rossetti. There is another possibility…An elegant one…It’s been speculated by some people, that the wind is nothing more spectacular than angels on the move….Consider the possibilities… This is an excerpt from Falling Angels, a novel by Tracy Chevalier, author of Girl With a Pearl Earring. Chevalier writes, “I don’t much like the cemetery angels. They are very smooth and regular, and their eyes are so blank - even when I stand in their line of sight they never seem to look at me. What is the good of a messenger who doesn’t even notice you?” We would hope that we would attract the attention of at least one passing angel. Otherwise, it would be as if a cooling breeze rushed past in a hurry, on its way to cool some other brow….

Suzanne Siegel Zenkel in her book, Your Secret Angel published in 1995 by Peter Pauper Press, wrote, “Your angel’s touch can be felt in a warm summer breeze, her music heard in the melody of a songbird, and her beauty seen in a rainbow sunset. The only time an angel weeps is when her song falls on deaf ears…”

“Love is poetry and poetry is the honey of all flowers, the quintessence of all sciences, the mirror of wit, and the very phrase of angels.” Thomas Nashe

In the introduction to the collection, Angels, an Ariel book, published in 1993 by Andrews and McMeel, a Universal Press Syndicate Company, was this: “Angels have beguiled and enchanted us since ancient times. Scholars have considered Hermes, the Greek god and messenger between Earth and Heaven, to be an angel, and indeed the word Angel in Greek means ‘Messenger’.”

This is an excerpt from It Had Wings by Allan Gurganus. “Maybe other angels have dropped into other Elm Street backyards? Behind fences, did neighbours help earlier hurt ones? Folks keep so much of the best stuff quiet, don’t they?”….I wonder how many would really come to the aid of an angel in distress?

You might remember that John Travolta took on the role of Michael, an archangel in the 1996 film simply titled Michael written and directed by Nora Ephron.He definitely had a certain ‘joie de vivre’ for life. He’s in Iowa with an elderly lady by the name of Pansy, played by Jean Stapleton, and being pursued by a cynical tabloid reporter, played by John Hurt, and an expert on angels, played by Andie MacDowell. In some ways, the film reminded me of City of Angels in the sense that we see another angel on Earth trying to experience earthly pleasures. The film does give us the impression that in some circles there are those who are willing to protect an angel in need.

“Kind words are the music of the world…They have a power which seems to be beyond natural causes, as though they were some angel’s song which had lost its way and come to Earth.” Frederick Williams Faber quoted in the book, Passages of Kindness published in 1995 by Heartland Samplers. Its ISBN is 1-57095-050-4.

Do you remember this conversation in the film, City of Angels? The scene is early on in the movie, when the angels are gathering on the beach to listen to the music of the sunset, the one sensory experience they are allowed. Seth and Cassiel are speaking….”The little girl asked me if she could be an angel…”, to which Cassiel replies, “They all want wings…” Seth  says, “I never know what to say…” Cassiel advises him, “Tell them the truth. Angels aren’t human…We were never human”, to which Seth says,”What if I just make her a little pair of wings out of paper?” Cassiel pushes the point, “Tell her the truth!”, to which Seth answers, “I told her.” “And how did she take it?” “She said what good would wings be if you couldn’t feel the wind on your face.”

What did I say about the wind being the passage of angels?

We’ve discussed the possibility of hearing the music in the sunrise or the sunset, as the angels did in City of Angels. I theorized that if there is a music, maybe its of a frequency slightly out of the range of human hearing…K.Martin-Kuri from the book, Walking With Angels: A Host of Inspirational and Uplifting Thoughts compiled by Julie Mitchell Marra, published by The C.R. Gibson Company, was quoted as saying, “There are colors for every angel, color is something we see only in certain dimensions, but hues exist on the spiritual plane much finer than the colors we experience. When we let color speak to us in its true celestial language, we begin to communicate with angelic beings.”

Milton in Paradise Lost wrote,  “The angel ended, and in Adam’s ear / So charming left his voice that he awhile / Thought him still speaking / Still stood fix’d to hear..” When we believe angels speak to us, we take great pains to listen to the words being whispered.

Fanny J. Crosby in Blessed Assurance wrote, “Angels descending, bringing from above /  Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.”

Harriett Beecher Stowe wrote, “Once in an age, God sends to some of us a friend who loves in us - not the person that we are - but the angel we might be.”

I agree, because there can be no more beautiful color than that which a friend inspires in us…

John Homer Miller was quoted in The Secrets of Serenity: A Treasury of Inspiration published in 1996, a Running Press Miniature Edition: “Circumstances and situations do color life, but you have been given the mind to choose what the color shall be…”

In yesterday’s blog I mentioned the book featuring excerpts from the scripts of the CBS series, Touched By An Angel, called When an Angel Speaks: Inspiration from Touched By An Angel, compiled by Executive Producer, Martha Williamson, a Fireside book published by Simon and Schuster. Listen to this one…”Pentimento is when one painting is painted right over another…It means the artist started painting, Oh, maybe a sunny day, but something changed and she painted something else right on top of it…People do that all the time, whether they’re artists or not…. When they don’t like something about themselves, they paint over it so no one else can see it….Our job is to help them expose their true colors to the light…”

…and what will they get in return? Karen Sunde, an American actor-playwright said, “To love is to receive a glimpse of Heaven.”

One book I recommend is Sophie Burnham’s Book of Angelspublished by Ballantine. Some people believe a peacock has the feathers of an angel. Others would want no wings, no matter how beautiful…

The words of the 1945 Winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature - Gabriela Mistral, words that every mother could identify with…

“When I am in Heaven, may God give me no Angel’s wings to soothe the hurt in my heart; Spread instead across the sky the hair of the children I loved, and let their hair sweep forever in the wind across my face.”

Don Jackson

 I mentioned in yesterday’s weblog that I would make a partial list of some worthy additions to anyone’s library. This list is far from complete. I have hundreds of volumes on the shelves of my library in my home office. These are but a few…

The Literary Garden-Bringing Fiction’s Best Gardens To Life with an introduction by Duncan Berne and published in 2001 by Berkley, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc. Its ISBN is 0-425-16874-3

 This is a book that gives you a peek into some of the most beautiful gardens ever committed to print. The book goes one step more along the garden path: it gives you the necessary information to plant exactly the same garden described in your favorite novel. Filled with illustrations and hauntingly beautiful excerpts from the gardens described by writers Conrad Aiken, Louisa May Alcott, Charles Dickens, Victor Hugo, and many others, this is a delight for those who have spent a lifetime imagining their perfect garden sanctuary.

 The book also features gardens that Nature has reclaimed. A garden that is untended, even for a short period of time, will return to its wild roots.

 Victor Hugo in Les Miserables, describes one such garden:

“There was a statue seat in a corner, one or two mouldy statues, some trellises loosened by time and rotting upon the wall; no walks, moreover, nor turf; dog-grass everywhere. Horticulture had departed and nature had returned.”

 Louisa May Alcott describes a much-loved and well-tended garden where the roses seem to be alive, in Little Women:

“The June roses over the porch were awake bright and early that morning, rejoicing with all their hearts in the cloudless sunshine, like friendly little neighbors, as they were. Quite flushed with excitement were their ruddy faces, as they swung in the wind, whispering to one another what they had seen; for some peeped in the dining-room windows, where the feast was spread, some climbed up to nod and smile at the sisters as they dressed the bride, others waved a welcome to those who came and went on various errands in garden, porch, and hall, and all, from the rosiest full-blown flower to the palest baby-bud, offered their tribute of beauty and fragrance to the gentle mistress who had loved and tended them so long.”

 Little Women by Louisa May Alcott is published by Penguin.

 One of my favorite books that holds a cherished place in my library is A Garland of Love: Daily Reflections on the Magic and Meaning of Love by Daphne Rose Kingma, author of True Love, published in 1992 by Conari Press.  Its ISBN is 0-943233-27-5.

 This is a book of days featuring a thought for each and every day of the year. This book can be read in just this manner. You open to today’s date and find a writing called The Architecture of Feeling: “When we take note of how we feel–what angers and disappoints us and makes us feel like kite-flying children again–we ever so delicately begin to restructure our feelings along different lines. …”

 One of my favorite writings from this book called Love Alters Time, begins this way: “In life and in work we have hours, minutes, plans, and obligations. But love stops the clock. Love is out of time.” Some lines later she continues, “This is one of love’s greatest gifts: that it connects us with the endless eternal; it acquaints us with the beauty of timelessness. …”

 I can’t recommend this book enough. Even if it’s no longer easily found, this is one of those “Books of Love” that is worth searching for.

 Any book in the “Chocolate” series.. Chocolate For A Woman’s Heart and Soul, Chocolate For A Mother’s Heart, Chocolate For A Woman’s Blessings, and so on. There have been many collections compiled and edited by Kay Allenbaugh and all published by Fireside, a division of Simon and Schuster, that will give you many hours of inspirational reading. You will shed many tears reading these true stories from the books’ many contributors. Your heart will feel full to overflowing with the loves and lives shared between these covers. No matter what kind of day you’ve had, no matter what shadow of sadness has darkened your soul, these books will lift your spirit and help you regain your perspective. They, too, are some of my most cherished books that I turn to time and again for inspiration for this radio program.

“Timing is everything in this business…”

 There was a time, not that long ago, when my show was being broadcast on a network of radio stations across Canada, that I was seriously trying to bring the experience of Lovers and Other Strangers to a television audience. My wife and I were working with a small, independent production company mapping out a tv series that would have had the radio show at its heart. We spent many weekends in our home with the producer and director, a writer, and even one of the actors we thought would be perfect in an ongoing role, coming up with ideas that would translate the thoughts and feelings inherent in the radio show to a visual medium. Unfortunately, the concept never got off the drawing board, but it was an experience I will never forget. It is also an idea that has never really died. Maybe some day we will discover the right path to bring the ideas to a tv audience. I still believe the concept has wings to fly…

 While working in these production meetings, there was one tv show that kept running through my mind: Touched By An Angel, the huge CBS hit that ran for so many seasons, and gave hope and inspiration to millions of viewers. That quote about “Timing is everything in this business…” is from one of the scripts. You may have thought that it had to do with my thoughts on the tv show, but now knowing it was about the “business of angels,” it carries another meaning…

 I mention this because the last book in my list today features some of the most remembered lines from the scripts of the popular tv show. Talk about wisdom…

 The book is called When Angels Speak: Inspiration From Touched By An Angel, Martha Williamson, Executive Producer, another Fireside Book, published by Simon and Schuster. Its ISBN is 0-684-84356-0. As it said on the back cover, “Now the words of Monica, Tess, and Andrew can be with you every day, everywhere.”

 That’s my last entry in the Reading Room. We’ll do this again from time to time. I wish you well in your own search for that one definitive book that will answer all your questions about love and life. Believe me, I know it’s out there. Maybe you’ll be its author one day.. Maybe it’s my destiny to add one more page to a growing collection of wisdom..

 Here is another excerpt from one of the many scripts of Touched By An Angel to conclude today’s weblog.

“What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment. And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new. Right now.“

 ***

 Don Jackson

Clarence Day told us, “The world of books is the most remarkable creation of man. Nothing else he builds lasts. Monuments fall, nations perish, civilizations grow old and die out and after an era of darkness, new races build others. But in the world of books are volumes that have seen this happen again and again and yet live on, still young, still as fresh as the day they were written, still telling men’s hearts of the hearts of men centuries dead.”

James Russell Lowell, said, “For books are more than books; they are the very heart and core of ages past; the reason why men lived, and worked and died, the essence and quintessence of their lives.”

That may be true of most books, but there are some that have been lost to us forever. Some of those lives have been completely wiped out, even before we’ve had a chance to see what was written. I’m referring to the scrolls in the great library of Alexandria that were purposely and systematically destroyed.

The city of Alexandria, Egypt, at one time, was a gathering place for scholars, scientists, mathematicians, and writers. The authorities of the time boarded every ship that docked in search of written knowledge. They weren’t confiscated but borrowed for a time, copied by the scribes in the library, and returned by the owners. The great library of Alexandria was to be a storehouse of what was known and believed about the world.

Carl Sagan in his PBS series Cosmos, and also in the companion volume published by Random House, told us about what happened to them, but he, too, wondered about the mysteries they might have solved. Were there answers to some of the greatest problems that still plague humankind today? Scientific knowledge that was completely erased, would have to wait thousands of years before being re-discovered. Not all the accounts of what the library held were destroyed, but what remained were mere fragments of a greater body of knowledge. I’ve often wondered if somewhere among those shelves of papyrus scrolls there was a Book of Love.

My own library at home contains many volumes of work associated with this greatest of all human emotions. I’ve searched the aisles of antiquarian book shops in the French Quarter of New Orleans, and other historical cities I’ve visited, looking for one definitive volume of work, but my search has been to no avail. Every book seems to add one more piece to a puzzle that never seems to finally reveal the whole picture. In ancient Egypt, the Rosetta Stone unlocked the mysteries of hieroglyphics on the tombs of the Pharaohs. My ‘Rosetta Stone’ would be one book that would unlock the door to the most powerful emotion known to humankind.

In the series sequel to the original Star Trek, called Star Trek: The Next Generation, the captain of the starship has a treasured volume housed under glass in his ready-room just off the main bridge. In Gene Roddenberry’s vision of the future, books would have all but disappeared in favour of computers. All the great works of Shakespeare and others were not lost to all time. What was written was transcribed into the files stored in databases. We know the problems with computer viruses and how easy it is to have all your data erased by one infected line of code. We make backups, but there is something frightening about the thought that the entire knowledge of the human race could one day be erased due to one virulent bug.

Besides that nightmare scenario, there is a tactile pleasure from holding a first edition in one’s hands. The novelist E. Annie Proulx in a speech, quoted in the May 1996 issue of the Reader’s Digest said, “Books give aesthetic and tactile pleasure, from the dust-jacket art to the binding, paper, typography and text design, from the moment of purchase until the last page is turned.” I have volumes in my collection featuring centuries-old poetry and prose that have had the pages scented. It is a unique sensory experience to read the words on those. I have books published as far back as the 1800s. The binding is in bad shape, but they are treasures.

Let us imagine another scenario….A Ray Bradbury story called The Smile, is set in a post-apocalyptic world, a world that has very little respect for the artistic accomplishments of past civilizations that have survived the holocaust. The story has a magnificent work of art, a painting by a master from centuries past, attacked by an unruly mob. A young boy gets involved for another purpose than to destroy. He does not approve of the desire to erase the past….He comes away with a special treasure, and quickly leaves the scene. He travels back to the barn where he and his family live. Later that night, when the other members of his family are asleep, he brings out the little bit of canvas that he was able to save from the mob, and looks at the Mona Lisa in the moonlight.

What would our world be like today if The Bible had never survived the millennia?

In the worldwide bestseller, The DaVinci Code, author Dan Brown speaks of a secret that was closely guarded  for thousands of years. If only the great library of Alexandria had knights to protect its treasure-trove of ancient secrets.

Plutarch tells us that Cleopatra had her sentiments engraved on tablets of crystal and onyx and sent to Antony. We know they existed, but they, too, have been lost to all time. Maybe an archaeologist will unearth them at a dig some time in the future. In the meantime, we can only guess at what she had written in these ancient love letters to the man she loved.

From time to time I will include a list of books that I have stumbled upon in my search for that one elusive book of love. These are volumes that would make handsome additions to any personal library. And I will continue looking for that one book that will answer all the questions you have about love.

In the meantime, another piece to the puzzle airs tonight between 9 and 11 with Lovers and Other Strangers…..

Don Jackson