Athasbasca River looking north. Photo by Jeffery Wallace

Today I am sharing a photo of Alberta, Canada my home province. The shot was taken today by a friend of mine, Jeffery Wallace. I love his photos and follow his travels via Facebook. I just had to share this with my readers. Incredible beauty!

Grandpa in France

Dear Grandpa Sendell,

I am writing this letter as a Remembrance Day tribute to you and all the others that served our country so unselfishly.

Unfortunately I wasn’t able to talk to you about your experiences in the Great War of 1914-1918. I was too young and not very knowledgeable about such things at the time. I certainly did not appreciate your sacrifice, nor did I have any concept of the conditions in France where you served.

I am now in my early sixties with children and grandchildren of my own. I have researched my family roots including the military side of it. Through my research and readings on your military experience I have come to have a deep connection with your experiences. My only regret is that I can’t speak with you directly about this period of your life. This letter is my attempt to do that in a public way.

I discovered you enlisted in the 3^rd Division of the Canadian Expeditionary Force (CEF) in 1915 to go overseas. You were assigned to the Canadian Army Service Corps within this division. There you drove munitions trucks from the rear areas to the front lines under heavy enemy fire. Now I realize why you were such an excellent driver.

Even though these trips were made under cover of darkness, the enemy could hear the sounds of the truck engines and rained heavy artillery fire down on the roads approaching the frontline trenches. Many of your fellow drivers were killed instantly when shells ignited the explosives in the trucks. The stress of driving under these conditions must have been unbearable.

When I compare your military record with the timeline of battles fought in the Flanders area of France during the time you were serving, it is obvious you experienced most of the brutal encounters of that time. It is fortunate you survived and returned to us here in Canada, so many of your friends and fellow soldiers did not.

Grandpa I value greatly this historical connection you gave our family. We treasure it with tremendous pride. Frankly I and others of my generation wonder how you did it. Your country and King called and you gladly gave up years of your life to serve under dangerous and dreadful conditions.

It’s shocking and sad to realize how young the soldiers were that went to war. I can only imagine what it was really like, but at least now I have a true appreciation for your experience. Bless you and all the others for your service to our country. We will never forget.

Your loving grandson,

Steve B. Davis

High Level Railway Bridge-Lethbridge

I’m in Lethbridge, Alberta this week while my wife attends university. My exploring has taken me to the Galt Museum and Archives (www.galtmuseum.com) which concentrates on the history of the area and it is fascinating.

Today I’ll tell you about the longest-highest railway bridge of its kind in the world, the CP Rail High Level Bridge. Completed in 1909 it was built to replace 20 wooden bridges and shortened an existing route from Fort McLeod to Lethbridge. It spans the Oldman River valley. The construction of the bridge was named a National Historic Event in 2005.

Length: 1 mile, 47 feet
Height: 314 feet
Cost in 1909: $1,334,525

Time to complete: 2-years (some delays due to flooding in 1908)

Unique feature: Railway track is nestled between two girder beams instead of running on top of them. This makes it practically impossible for derailed cars to leave the bridge deck.

This bridge is very much in use today and is inspected regularly.

Recommended reading:
Canadian Pacific Railway High Level Bridge at Lethbridge, Johnston, Dr. Alex, Occasional Paper #46 published by Lethbridge Historical Society, 2008

Darren savoring victory-photo by Russell Cheyne, Reuters

On Sunday the prestigious British Open was won by Northern Ireland’s Darren Clarke. The forty-two years young Clarke was playing in his 20th Open, but golf was not the only story here. The human interest saga behind the beaming face of Darren Clarke far outweighs the golf.

Clarke was probably one of the best golfers never to have won a major tournament. For those non-golfers there are four major tournaments in the world, The Masters, The US Open, The British Open, and the PGA Championship. It is every golfer’s dream to win one of these. In Clarke’s case he won his home country’s Open which made it doubly special.

Darren has had to fight not only the other golfers and the courses over the years, but a terrible tragedy as well.

Five years ago his wife Heather died of breast cancer. Since that time he has struggled on the course and in life. Darren had to raise two young boys on his own while making a living on the golf course. Clarke came through these troubles with strength and dignity. One of the first calls he made after winning the tournament was to his sons. His fiancée stood by him during the tournament. Life is coming together again for Clarke.

British Open champion Darren Clarke is a fine man who deserves to enjoy this win. May good fortune continue to shine on him.

Recommended Reading:

http://www.calgaryherald.com/sports/Clarke+wins+British+Open+under/5115667/story.html

In our house spanking is a definite no no. Children are treated with respect. Sure there is some yelling and fighting but with five individuals including three young ones, there are bound to be conflicts.

Mother gets taut like a spring just watching my active boy have fun. You can sense the urge to step in and bring him to heel. You can cut the tension. Heck he is just being a kid.

Proudly relates this little story to me whenever she visits,

Seems one time when I was a 6 year old kid back in the 1950′s there was I time when I didn’t come when I was called, too busy playing I guess. She came to get me with a flyswatter. She tells how she flicked my ass with it all the way home and boy did that ever make me listen. The point being the next time I was called I came.

Frankly I find this tale a disgusting example of the child discipline of the 1950′s. Talk about lack of respect for a child.
Much as I love my mother I am beginning to realize why I have so much deep seeded anger within my psyche.

Any man can be a father, but it takes a real man to be a good Dad. Those are the truest words I have heard uttered on the subject.  Failure at this job is just not a option in my mind. It is far too important to the children. The responsibility is at times I confess downright scary.

Unfortunately being human all fathers have failures sometimes. The thing to do is to recommit oneself and strive to be better. The rewards far outweigh the negative moments.

It is only now after all these years I realize the tough job fatherhood really is. However, the rewards are incalculable. Enjoy being a father, enjoy your children they are truly a gift.