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

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

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

I ran across some interesting trivia concerning the story. For example, did you know that the original title for the book was the title of tonight’s blog, “Tomorrow Is Another Day?” I’m glad the author decided on Gone With The Wind.” And Scarlett was not Mitchell’s original choice for the name of her heroine. She liked the name “Pansy O’Hara.” I’m really glad she also had second thoughts about the name of the plantation. We know it as “Tara,” but the author was toying with the idea of naming it “Fontenoy Hall.” I would imagine that if she had stayed with her original name for the magnificent plantation, a lot of women would not now be named “Tara.”

This information is from the book, Hollywood Trivia by David P. Strauss and Fred L. Worth and published in 1981 by Warner Books. Here are a few more interesting items of trivia from the book…

“The burning of Atlanta, Georgia, the first scene filmed in Gone With The Wind, employed the old RKO King Kong set for the impressive sequence.

“Elizabeth Taylor might have played the child, Bonnie Blue, in Gone With The Wind at age seven,  but her father said she was too young to appear in films. The part went to Cammie King.

“The trees shown in front of the plantation Tara … were made of plaster. Real leaves had to be attached to the phony trees. There were 1,250,000 props used in the movie.

“The horse that Gerald O’Hara (Thomas Mitchell) rode in Gone With The Wind was the Silver of Lone Ranger serial fame.

“Rhett Butler’s famous closing line was actually filmed two ways. ‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t care’ was not used.

“On the day that Gone With The Wind premiered in Atlanta, Georgia (December 15, 1939) the state’s governor declared the day an official state holiday.”

Some interesting trivia concerning an American classic. We pay tribute to “Gone With The Wind” in our second hour tonight. I hope it will bring back many fond, romantic memories of the first time you saw the film.

Tomorrow is Canada Day. I’d like to take this opportunity to wish you a very happy Canada Day! I hope you will be careful with any fireworks you plan to set off tomorrow. We don’t need to recreate the burning of Atlanta here in Canada.  

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Don Jackson

There used to be a sci-fi series on TV called Time Tunnel. Every week we got a chance to travel back in time for one reason or another. The science may have been suspect, but I enjoyed where their travels took me. The Twilight Zone also dealt with the subject in a few classic episodes.

H. G. Wells wrote a classic story called The Time Machine. This is a review from Merriam Webster’s Encyclopedia of Literature. “The novel is considered one of the earliest works of science fiction and the progenitor of the ‘time travel’ subgenre.”

“Wells advanced his social and political ideas in this narrative of a nameless Time Traveller who is hurled into the year 802,701 by his elaborate ivory, crystal, and brass contraption.” It was a marvelous machine, even though we never truly understood its clockwork mechanism.

The idea of ‘time-shift” in literature is a narrative method that shifts the storyline back and forth from the past to the present. It’s one of the easiest ways for us to travel back in time.

Time travel has always been a popular theme in science fiction and the movies: Back To The Future, Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, Dr. Who, Highlander 2: The Quickening, Peggy Sue Got Married, The Terminator, and so many others.

Time travel has always been a popular theme, and some of the science is actually being considered and talked about openly by physicists who once might have been afraid of ridicule to even broach the subject.

An experiment supposedly took place on this date in 1912. It had to do with time travel. It also had to do with love. My radio show tonight is devoted to one of the most popular romantic movies of all “time.” I hope you will join me as we journey back to a “grand” old hotel, and get lost in the romance of the moment.

I’d like to conclude this blog with a question for you to consider. Given the chance to go back in time, where would you go, and what would you do? Would it be to right a wrong, or would it be for a second chance at something, like love? To say the words that waited too long for another time that never materialized? So, given the chance to occupy a seat aboard a time machine and the controls at your fingertips, what would you set the the dial for? Would you like to stay where you’re headed, or would it be a brief visit? A lot of things to consider before you move the lever to set the machine in motion. Careful now…

There isn’t a soul among us who wouldn’t line up for a ride back into the past, or for a chance to see what the future holds in store… Maybe a quick peek at tomorrow’s winning lottery numbers?

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Don Jackson

“Inspiration…who can say where it is born, and why it leaves us? Who can tell the reasons for its being or not being? Only this…I think inspiration comes from the heart of heaven to give the lift of wings, and the breath of diving music to those of us who are earthbound.” Margaret Sangster from Fields of Gold, published by C.R. Gibson Company.

I promise to keep this blog almost to a whisper tonight.

In the TV series, Lost, there is a point when the survivors of the plane-crash hear whispering voices all around them in the jungle. On a supposedly deserted island, the survivors ran into a group called “The Others,” and then saw ghosts from their past. The whispering voices in the jungle brush added a certain sense of dread to an already desperate situation. If my memory serves me correctly, we have yet to learn where the voices are coming from. There are so many loose ends that the producers and writers will have to clear up before the series ends.

Another popular TV series is The Ghost Whisperer, based on true events. That’s what it must be like for the character in real life to hear ethereal, otherworldly voices must be like listening to a whisper.

But I do believe there is something in nature that we hear on occasion. When I shovel snow, I cna’t help but hear this voice whispered in the wind.. when I rake leaves in Autumn, I often hear it.. In Summer, when I’m near my pond and listen to the wings of a dragonfly or hummingbird nearby, I again hear something that gives me pause to believe there is a voice around us all the time…

Longfellow heard something, too, when he wrote, “A voice out of the silence of the deep,/ A sound mysteriously multiplied/ As of a cataract from the mountain’s side./ Or roar of winds upon a wooded steep.”

“The trees along this city street/ Save for traffic and the trains,/ Would make a sound as thin and sweet/ As trees in country lanes.

“And people standing in their shade/ Out of a shower, undoubtedly/ Would hear such music as is made/ Upon a country tree.

“Oh, little leaves that are so dumb/ Against the shrieking city air,/ I watch you when the wind has come,-/ I know what sound is there.” City Trees by Edna St. Vincent Millay, published in Collected Lyrics by Harper.

Sitting out in a chair on our front walk tonight, I was surprised to find a little toad sitting on a decorative stone beside our gardens no more than a metre away. He’s been around our house for awhile now. We see him on the path at the side of our house. I’ve also seen him resting on a lily-pad in the pond. Our dog, Brownie, has even discovered him. It’s been fun to watch her stalking the little toad who is as bold as bold can be. I can only imagine what it must think of this monster-our dog- quietly creeping right up to the little creature. And yet it doesn’t make a sound. I know it spends its nights either by the pond or in our front gardens, and yet I’ve never heard it make a sound, which is unusual for toads. Usually they’re vocal late at night. Maybe this one likes to whisper. We’ve taken a photo of this little toad that I’ll post sometime in the near future.

“I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting station, through which God speaks to us every hour, if we will only tune in.” -George Washington Carver, quoted, an excerpt from The Treasure Chest, edited by Charles L. Wallis, and published in 1965 by Harper and Row, publishers. That’s a pretty good description of it. It’s like trying to tune in a distant radio station at night. The sound comes in clear for awhile and eventually fades out again.

There is something about a whisper that commands your attention, rivets you one spot. Maybe it’s the feeling that someone is about to share a delicious secret, or reveal something that is for your ears only…

Wait till you hear the very last story in tonight’s program, whispered to someone a very long time ago. It had the power to change a life forever…

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Don Jackson

I wished I had also taken the initiative to ask my mother why perfectly good pairs of socks disappear sometime between putting them into the wash and taking them out of the dryer. It’s one mystery I deal with in tonight’s radio program. Unfortunately, I have no answers to pass along as to where they go. Sometimes you’ll find them tucked into a shirt sleeve, or inside a pair of jeans. Other times they simply vanish. Eventually they turn up, but where they go in the meantime is anybody’s guess. I sometimes find them in other loads of laundry that I’m removing from the dryer, when I’m folding clothes or when I’m putting fresh sheets on the beds.

We’ve dealt with chaos over a few programs to begin the week. Tonight, entropy, as explained by a very wise author. I hope you will tune in, because he claims entropy has a lot to do with missing socks.

…And don’t get me started on my lack of knowledge about darning socks. Whether a single sock shows up on its own, or I get holes in my socks, I still revert to my bachelor days, and just go out and buy a new pair.

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Don Jackson

“‘There’s work to do, deadlines to meet; / You’ve got no time to spare, / But as you hurry and scurry– / ASAP-Always Say A Prayer.

“‘In the midst of family chaos, / Quality time is rare, / Do your best, let God do the rest– / ASAP-Always Say A Prayer.

“‘It may seem like your worries / Are more than you can bear. / Slow down and take a breather– / ASAP-Always Say A Prayer.

“‘God knows how stressful life is; / He wants to ease your cares, / And He’ll respond to all your needs / ASAP-Always Say A Prayer.’”–Author Unknown

In my program last night I did not have the time to include this wonderful little poem. I thought it important enough to share with you tonight, since we’re featuring another take on the subject of chaos in the first hour of the radio program.

“American life is completely dislocated  by storms and snow and hurricanes. When American automobiles can’t move, life comes to a halt, and when their famous schedules can’t be met, they panic and go into a kind of paroxysm of frustration, besieging railway stations, jamming long-distance wires, keeping their radios permanently switched on for any crumb of comfort. I could imagine the chaos on the roads and in the cities, and i hugged my cosy solitude to me.” An excerpt from Part One, Chapter 5, of The Spy Who Loved Me by Ian Fleming, published in 1962 by Jonathan Cape Ltd., the pan books edition published in 1967.

“The attitude that nature is chaotic and that the artist puts order into it is a very absurd point of view, I think. All that we can hope for is to put some order into ourselves.” Dutch painter William de Kooning (1904-97), and featured in the Monday, June 16th, 2008 issue of The Globe and Mail’s Social Studies column. 

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Don Jackson

“My name is Christina and I am completing Grade 9 this year. For my oral French exam this past month, we were required to choose a musical act to speak about. I chose RyanDan, whose songs “The Face” and “Like The Sun” are played on CHFI. RyanDan is one of my favorite musical groups.

“Last Friday, I was fortunate enough to be able to go to the Music Hall on Danforth to see them perform live. This was their first concert in their hometown of Toronto.

“When Ryan and Dan came out and performed their first song, “High,” I knew the night was going to be great. They liked to talk about the next song they would perform, which was really cool. Between their songs, Ryan and Dan would get the audience involved in the songs. We had to help with the music for “Stand By Me.” So while we hummed and established the beat, they sang along, to demonstrate how they practiced harmonization.

“The brothers are really funny! They would make jokes and poke fun at each other and get the crowd laughing. They performed with their orchestra, piano and backup singers. They had 6 violinists, 2 cellists, a pianist and 4 backup singers.

“Their songs have always been interesting and amazing to me, but hearing them onstage, and live, has been a great experience.

“After the show, Ryan and Dan were nice enough to sign every cd people brought in with them or bought at the show. They stood behind that table for so long making sure everyone got an autograph. They let people take pictures with them, too! This band is by far the nicest one I’ve ever known, and I hope to see them again. Thanks to Livenation.com for the tickets, and CHFI for making this all possible!”

This was my daughter’s very first concert and my wife, who has seen many concerts, had a wonderful evening, too. My personal thanks to everyone for helping to make a dream come true!

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Don and Christina Jackson

It’s officially summer as of 8 p.m. (EDT)–and not a moment too soon. We had a winter that more than made up for a lack of snow in recent years. I’m still sore from all the shoveling! Our snowfall this past winter reminds me of a saying from The Old Farmer’s Almanac, that reads: “When February give much snow, / A fine summer dost foreshow…” Let’s hope that it will be a fine summer this year. It will if the air is fragrant with summer’s beautiful flowers…

My daughter is finishing up exams in high school and my son’s school year will be over in a week. I know they’re both looking forward to a summer of ease and excitement. I’m anticipating the heady scents of flowers in bloom…

In the March 1990 issue of Victoria magazine, in an article about heart-notes or perfumes, a writer said: “To discover whether night blooming jasmine, or any kind of fragrance, is right for you, it is best to wear it for a few hours in the early afternoon, when your sense of smell is sharper.”

I had something else planned for tonight till a summer breeze brought me another faint scent of jasmine this afternoon. My wife and I were out by the pond recently when she turned to me and said, “Do you smell the jasmine?” The air is so perfumed now with the heady fragrance of so many blooms that I almost missed it. I walked over to our mock-orange plant and deeply inhaled its intoxicating scent. My neighbor’s beautiful climbing roses are also scenting the air, vying for my attention.

This is what the writer in that issue of Victoria magazine had to say about this exotic scent. “Bespeaking elegance, grace, and sensuality in the Victorian language of flowers, sweet jasmine says, ‘I am too happy,’ as may the woman who wears a fragrance with this heart note. Often called the most exquisite floral essence, jasmine blooms at night and perfumers hand-pick the delicate blossoms before sunrise–hence its centuries-old name, ‘Moonlight of The Grove.’”

Joris Karl Huysmans in Against The Grain, wrote: “Perfumes, in fact, rarely come from the flowers whose names they bear … with the exception of the inimitable jasmine, which is impossible to counterfeit.” I’m pleased to discover that there is at least one fragrance associated with the season that is difficult to reproduce.

To conclude my short blog tonight, one of my favorite  writings that describes a summer frame of mind. Katherine Mansfield wrote, “The mind I love must have wild places–a tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in the heavy grass, an overgrown little wood, the chance of a snake or two, a pool that nobody’s fathomed the depth of, and paths threaded with flowers planted by the mind.”

I hope you will get a chance to travel some of those paths this summer. I also hope a summer breeze will entice you with a scent of jasmine or even a single rose.

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Don Jackson