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“There is something terribly wrong with a culture inebriated by noise and gregariousness.”–George Steiner, quoted in the Social Studies column of the Monday February 7th, 2005 issue of The Globe and Mail.

According to Laura Lee in The Pocket Encyclopedia of Aggravation, the sound a dripping faucet makes is sheer agony to a woman. Apparently men are rarely bothered by the sound at all. It’s true. Our tap was dripping in the upstairs bathroom, the one beside the master bedroom. It didn’t get on my nerves as much as it did on my wife’s. A sound that makes us all cringe would have to be fingernails on a chalkboard. Even the mere mention of it can make you antsy, because it is a sound that is difficult to forget after hearing it once. Apparently there is a tribe in Nigeria that finds the shucking of an unripe ear of corn to be almost as grating on their nerves.

There are many sounds that have assaulted our ears. I’m sure you have your own private list of sounds that are particularly bothersome to you.

Late one night sometime back, I kept hearing a kind of “beeping” sound. I ran around the house trying to locate the source, but it kept eluding me. It turned out to be a “low battery” warning on one of the sensors in our home alarm system. I was about ready to tear the house apart as I looked high and low trying to track it down.

Years ago I didn’t have to look so hard; I knew exactly where the offensive noise was coming from. I lived in a condo and the person next door just loved disco music. The walls were fairly sound-proofed, but nothing could prevent the thump of the beat leaking through. This went on for months. I kept looking for my elusive neighbor in the hallway but the person who lived there seemed to be a ghost. Eventually, I got up the courage and knocked on the door. I was greeted by a young man–and his two dobermans. I knew then this was a mistake. I introduced myself, but all the time we talked I couldn’t get rid of the feeling I was being watched. I was, by the two dogs. I couldn’t take my eyes off them and they seemed equally intent on me. He explained that he worked out of town and kept the music on for the dogs. They actually seemed to smile at me as he said this. I apologized for the intrusion. 

I recently read that scientists are working on a substance that one day might be available that you can hang outside your home to deflect the noise from a neighbor’s house party. It’s in the developmental stages, but it will be some time before the material is perfected and commercially available. (I wonder if those two dobermans are still smiling…)

I’ve always bee intrigued by this idea from Frank W. Mann, Jr. from Robins Reader, and featured in the Points To Ponder column of the October 1995 issue of the Reader’s Digest magazine. He writes, “An enlightening pastime is to make a list of favorite things that impact the senses. Not only does it provide a challenging exercise for the mind and memory but it sharpens our appreciation of these golden moments in time. For example, one person’s list of ten favorite sounds: A mother talking to her new baby; a distant train whistle; the scrunch of leaves on a bright autumn day; a hound baying in the woods at night; the absolute silence of a mountain lake at sunset; sea gulls crying; a stadium crowd singing the national anthem; a crackling fire on a bitter day; the screech of an airplane’s tires as they touch down; his wife’s voice at morning. Try the exercise for favorite sounds, smells or sights. You may learn something about yourself.”

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Don Jackson

“Robert Louis Stevenson wrote, ‘To travel hopefully is better than to arrive.’ This could be written for fishermen. ‘It is better to fish hopefully than to catch fish.’ Fishing is hope experienced. When asked, ‘How can you fish all day without a hit?’ the true fisherman replies, ‘I think I felt something.’ If the line goes slack, he says, ‘He’ll be back!’ When it comes to the human spirit, hope is all. Without hope, there is no yearning, no desire for a better tomorrow, and no belief that the next cast will bring the big strike.” Paul Quinnett from Pavlov’s Trout published by Keoke Company Publishing, and featured in the Points To Ponder column of the June 2003 issue of the Reader’s Digest magazine.

I’ve hung the sign, “Gone Fishin’” on the front door of the studio tonight. When I did this same topic a year or so back, Bob Magee told me that he heard the show and really enjoyed the idea.  A great many of us have some kind of memory of fishing in the summers of our past. Whether it was a simple rod and a worm on a hook taken down to a nearby stream, or a recollection of being in a boat with your father out on a lake, there is something about the sport that resonates on a deep level with those who have experienced it for themselves. It is like airing out one’s soul in the fresh air and the natural surroundings.

“Fishing is the least objectionable way of doing nothing.”–Greg Clark from Fishing With Gregory Clark published by Optimum, and featured in the May 1985 issue of the Reader’s Digest magazine.

In tonight’s radio program, I try to capture something of that essence, something of those images in words and in music. This writing pretty well sums it all up…

“I fish because I love to; because I love the environs where trout are found, which are invariably beautiful, and hate the  environs where crowds of people are found, which are invariably ugly; because of all the television commercials, cocktail parties, and assorted social posturing I escape; because, in a world where most men seem to spend their lives doing things they hate, my fishing is at once an endless source of delight and an act of small rebellion; because trout do not lie or cheat and cannot be bought or bribed or impressed by power; because I suspect that men are going along this way for the last time, and I for one don’t want to waste the trip; because mercifully there are no telephones on trout waters; because only in the woods can I find solitude without loneliness; and finally, not because I regard fishing as being so terribly important but because I suspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant–and not nearly so much fun.”–Robert Traver from Anatomy of a Fisherman published by McGraw-Hill, and featured in the Points To Ponder column of the March 1985 issue of the Reader’s Digest magazine.  (It’s obvious this was written before cellphones…)

“I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed / A bird is passing by, / Birds are passing by, screaming, screaming, / Fish nets being withdrawn in fishing weirs, / A woman’s toe dabbling in the water, / I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed.” An excerpt from I Am Listening To Istanbul by Orhan Veli Kanik (1914-1950), translated into English by Murat Nemet-Nejat from I, Orhan Veli, published in 1989 by Hanging Loose Press, and reprinted in the collection, World Poetry published in 1998 by the Quality Paperback Book Club.

 If it was not for the sport of fishing, I would not have a new driveway. I briefly tell the story how a neighbor of mine, an avid fisherman himself, met another angler while out fishing, and how they became good friends. It just so happens that the fisherman my neighbor met does incredible work with concrete and cement. You never know who you’ll meet when you head out at the break of dawn and cast a line into the water. You may not catch any fish, but you might make a new acquaintance.

“Fishing rewards hope more often than most things we do in this life. Even if you never get a bite, you get back in touch with the sea, and once you’ve done that, getting in touch with one’s soul isn’t far behind.”–A. E. Maxwell from The King of Nothing published by Random House.

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Don Jackson

In the pitch black dark of night, I have seen a spider spinning a web in the infrared light of a video surveillance camera.. It is the most amazing thing to see. A spider, the size of a tiny dot, lowering itself to the ground in front of this high-powered camera, is enough to make even the most unafraid person a little leery.

I have never been afraid of spiders. A few summers go, we had a fairly large one take up residence in a potted plant my wife had sitting on the arm-rest of our swinging bench. It was not as big as, say a tarantula, but if it had aspirations, it might have grown to half the size.

Some years back, we made a small patio in front of our living room windows, just off to the side of our front walk. We brought this swinging bench from our backyard and placed it there. It is relaxing to sit in the shadow of the huge blue spruce on my neighbor’s front lawn. A few nights ago we watched June bugs rising from beneath the lowest branches of this huge evergreen. This was the same tree that sheltered the fireflies on Canada Day a few years back during a raging thunderstorm. I spoke of this in a recent blog about Canada Day fireworks. Those kinds of visitors are not unnerving, but this large spider was, especially since we first noticed it out of the corner of our eyes.

You would think a spider that size would be rather conspicuous. There were days I went looking for it, and couldn’t find it. Occasionally, I would see it under the arm-rest. I spoke of this on the air, and a neighbor across the street came over one morning to see it for herself. And, as spiders are often wont to do, one morning it had moved on to greener pastures. We never saw it again. Today, when I sit outside on that swinging bench, I have been known, on occasion, to check under the arm-rest before getting settled, just in case.

There is an old weather adage that states: kill a spider and it will rain. I am careful in the summer to let them be when I see a web in our plants. We’ve had enough rainy days, especially this summer, to last me for a while. It is raining as I write this, and believe me, I had nothing to do with it!

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Don Jackson

The Leaning Tower of Pisa is one of the world’s most familiar architectural landmarks. It is a 14,000-tonne free-standing bell tower that was built in several stages between 1174 and 1370. Due to extremely unstable ground beneath the structure, it began to tilt after only a few storeys were complete. At first, trapezoidal stones were used to return the structure to its upright position, but the ground was just unstable enough for the tower to continue to lean. It got to the point that it may have been in danger of falling. The tower had a tilt of about four metres off the vertical. The tower, as recognizable a symbol as Rome’s Colosseum, was closed to sightseers in 1990 and stayed closed for almost 12 years, while a massive reconstruction project was undertaken by engineers to correct the lean by about 40 centimetres from the stage it was at in 1990. And this is how they did it. Cables were attached to the structure and anchored, and then cement poured to relieve the pressure on the unstable earth beneath. The end result is the fact that the structure is as safe now as it was back in the 1700s. They probably could have straightened the tower back to its original position, but that certainly would have taken away from its status as one of Italy’s major tourist attractions.

All it took was a little engineering know-how, and some cement to shore it up.

I’ve had a cement driveway poured over the weekend. It’s six-inches deep and will probably last quite a few years. The original driveway was elevated , and over the years it, too, had developed quite a slant, sinking into the limestone beneath. With the help of a contractor who specializes in cement, we have restored my driveway to its original shape, and gave it the strength to last quite a few more years. The work done on the Leaning Tower of Pisa will keep it safe for the next 300 years. My driveway won’t last as long, but it will outlive the traditional asphalt driveway.

I looked around my house and found some other things that have been made of cement. We have a huge water fountain beside our front walkway that weighs about 300 pounds. I know, because I helped  the man who made it carry it along the walkway and set it up. We also have a small garden gargoyle that is perched in our front gardens keeping a watchful eye over our property. Another garden statue features a kneeling angel tending to a couple of small, wild creatures of the forest. A smaller gargoyle spitter was given to me on Father’s Day. It circulates water through a filter and back into the pond through the mouth of the creature. Another small garden gargoyle sits on a stone by the pond, keeping a watchful eye over the fish below the surface of the water.

When we think of the many uses of cement we think of sidewalks, curbs, bridges, skyscrapers and the like. Concrete is one of the best materials for massive projects and undertakings. We rarely think of some of the smaller, decorative items that add beauty to our lives.

Oh, by the way, our familiar landmark tower, the CN Tower, was also made of concrete and steel. The Leaning Tower of Pisa was made of materials including white and grey marble. I don’t think you’ll find our tower leaning anytime soon.

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Don Jackson

Who could ever forget the beauty of the aurora borealis in all its simplicity after seeing it only once. How it shimmers in the sky overhead. If you’re preoccupied and aren’t looking to the heavens you’d miss this natural display of celestial fireworks. As it said in the Reader’s Digest edition, Why In The World: All You Ever Wanted To Know About The World Around You But May Never Have Thought To Ask, the aurora is, “…linked with the sun’s magnetic storms. Charged particles in the solar wind interact with gases in our atmosphere, producing an ever-changing array of white and multicolored lights.”

With a telescope, we can look up and see the remains of the most spectacular fireworks of all–the remnants of a supernova explosion. And then there was the display at my home on Canada Day two years ago…

It was long after dark. There was another display at that community park close by. We could hear the noise of the exploding rockets and see brief flashes of light. All the while, a single firefly floated from one of our flower beds, across our lawn and into the huge blue spruce that adorns our neighbor’s property, its soft light blinking on and off, on and off… My wife and children were mesmerized by its appearance, and how bold it seemed to be as it once flew up our walk where we were gathered to watch its silent display of beauty. I was more impressed by its delicate show than the fireworks off in the distance…

After the community display was over, a thunderstorm appeared in the distance. Its lightning streaked the sky at one point like a spider’s web. The crash of thunder was deafening at times as the rain poured down. The little creature we had been watching sought shelter in the boughs of this huge tree, its brief flickers like a solitary Christmas bulb left fizzling high in the branches. I know what display I’ll always remember on that Canada Day; the one that was so quiet…

Fireworks lighting up a nighttime sky, exploding high overhead in a rainbow of colors. A thunderstorm rages, its noise violent and deafening, the night ripped apart with jagged streaks of lightning, trees bending in the fierce winds, the smell of ozone after it moved on.

On a night when there is a storm on the sun, we see the shimmering colors of the aurora borealis.

On a warm summer’s night, we gaze up at the stars and think of the nuclear fires that produce a light so bright that we can see it blazing light years away. Farther out, the remnants of a supernova exploding that can rip a star more massive than our own sun to pieces. And still farther out, the remnants of the biggest firecracker of them all, the big bang that produced the universe in the first place.

We tear ourselves away from such thoughts to see a single, beautiful firefly silently lighting up the air just above the grass, and another’s twinkling light in the boughs of a blue spruce.

Marianne Moore in the poem Silence, written in 1935, said: “The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence; / Not in silence, but restraint.”

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Don Jackson

On Canada Day, just after dark, I was surprised by a huge explosion to the west. I was outside and should have been expecting the huge display at a neighborhood park, but it still caught me by surprise.

This is a brief history from a very old edition of the Britannica.

“Throngs of people in holiday mood are usually delighted by the gaudy patterns in darkened skies by the explosion of multicolored fireworks. These same fireworks in a different setting may be an urgent signal of distress at sea, or, more tragic still, the locator of a military target to be fired upon for the purpose of utter destruction. However, it seems that fireworks are more devised to amuse than to help to destroy.

“The origin of pyrotechny (the art of making fireworks) is not definitely known. It is usually ascribed to the Chinese. Their records show that such displays were produced by them many centuries before they appeared in Western nations.

“The Greeks made explosives of some description, to which the name of ‘Greek Fire’ has been given, and the Roman emperors sometimes amused the populace with colored lights and ‘Fire Fountains.’ However, fireworks were not manufactured in European countries to any notable extent until after gunpowder came into use and the science of chemistry had developed.

“A pyrotechnic display is recorded as part of a 16th century pageant, and the Italians picked up the art and elaborated upon it during the 17th and 18th centuries. In the 19th century, the art of making fireworks came to its full stature and many beautiful and elaborate effects were produced. There were pieces shot into the air to weave their gorgeous colored designs against the sky as a backdrop, and set pieces fastened to patterned fireworks. These latter fireworks–when lit–produce many patterns–waving flags, rushing trains and steamboats, mimic battles between comic characters, and portraits of noted personages.”

There will come a day when we will be able to produce the kind of display that Gandalf did in the trilogy of films based on the work of J. R. R. Tolkien.

We just love to gather to watch the awesome beauty of an aerial display of fireworks. Whether it’s in a park, near water, or even in the comfort of your own backyard, we love to see the night skies lit up in a rainbow of colors. It doesn’t always have to be a huge display, either. Something as innocent as the little red schoolhouse, or even a sparkler, can elicit “Oohs” and “Aahs”. I would imagine there were a lot of those on Canada’s birthday.

It’s the Fourth of July tomorrow. To all our American friends and readers, a very happy celebration. I’m sure you’ll see some spectacular displays when the skies darken.

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Don Jackson

In tonight’s radio program, I’m talking about soaring high in the sky, and yet for the past three to four weeks or so, I’ve been firmly entrenched on the ground….

We’re doing our driveway over. It’s been in need of a make-over for years but there has always been other more pressing needs. This year, we couldn’t ignore it any longer. And so we decided to do it once, do it right, and then not have to worry about it again. We’ve decided on cement…

We had a local paving company come in and rip up the existing asphalt and asked that they take away a little more. If you know anything about a cement driveway, then you know it’s about six inches deep. The paving company only removed a few inches and I was stuck having to dig out the other four inches of limestone and rock. I figure I’ve hauled at least a hundred wheelbarrows filled with limestone and rocks, weighing on average about a hundred pounds each. My wife has created a winding path through our backyard and a lot of what was under the driveway has come in handy to help in that landscaping project. But I’m still left with a few big mounds at the far end of the property. We’ll eventually get most of it distributed around the property as we bolster patio stones and fill in some gaps. To say that I am exhausted is an understatement, but fortunately yesterday, Canada Day, we employed a neighbor on the street to help get it finally down to six inches in depth. We’re just now waiting for the cement to be poured. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to seeing this major job completed.

Our water shut-off valve is in the middle of the driveway, so when the asphalt was ripped up and taken away, I thought it prudent to contact the water department to come and check the condition of the valve and pipe. If it needed to be repaired then now was the time to do it, with the driveway  gone. The work crew confirmed my suspicions that the old pipe needed replacing. This morning, the new one was installed. The crew brought this huge vacuum truck with them. You’ve probably seen these machines. When a storm drain needs to be cleaned out in the fall after the leaves have come down, it’s a truck like this that usually does the job. Today, it was needed to create a huge hole to get the old pipe out and the new one put in. I watched as this industrial-strength vacuum machine created a hole that would have taken me days to dig. I told one of the workmen that I wished I had had that machine to take my driveway down to the required depth for concrete. The job would have been done in about twenty minutes, with no debris to cart away in a wheelbarrow. It would have been cost-prohibitive to have rented this truck, but it would have saved a lot of wear and tear on my poor aching back….

I’ll let you know how it turns out. I might even post a few before and after photos in this blog…

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Don Jackson