Happy Dolly Parton Day!

 

Eleanor

At 33, Eleanor Roosevelt opened her husband's suitcase and found something that would change her marriage — and, eventually, the entire course of her life.

Inside was a bundle of love letters from Lucy Mercer, Eleanor's own social secretary — a woman she had trusted and welcomed into her home. The discovery devastated her.

Eleanor offered Franklin a divorce. But it was more complicated than the feelings of two people. Franklin's family strongly opposed it, warning that a divorce would destroy his political future. So they stayed married. Their relationship, though, was never quite the same. And for Eleanor, something inside had shifted.

Until then, she had spent much of her life trying to be whoever she thought others wanted her to be. Born in 1884, she lost both parents while still a child. Her father, whom she adored, struggled with alcoholism and died when she was young; her mother had often been critical of her looks, even nicknaming her "Granny." Orphaned before she was ten and raised by a stern grandmother in a home short on warmth, Eleanor had grown up believing love was something she had to earn. She hoped marriage would finally give her the security she'd always wanted, and she poured herself into being a devoted wife, mother, and political partner.

Then she found the letters. And slowly, she began to understand something that would reshape everything: she could not build her whole identity around being loved by someone else.

A few years later, another crisis struck. Franklin was diagnosed with polio and lost the ability to walk unaided. Many assumed his political career was over. Eleanor didn't. She began going out on his behalf — attending meetings he couldn't reach, meeting voters, gathering information from communities he couldn't visit. And in doing so, she discovered something she hadn't fully known: she could stand on her own.

When Franklin became president in 1933, Eleanor transformed what it meant to be First Lady. She didn't just host dinners and cut ribbons. She traveled constantly, visiting factories, coal mines, hospitals, migrant camps, and poor communities, because she wanted to see for herself how ordinary Americans were really living. She held press conferences open only to female reporters, forcing newsrooms to keep women on staff at a time when they were routinely shut out.

Then came one of her most famous stands. In 1939, the great singer Marian Anderson was refused permission to perform at Constitution Hall in Washington because she was Black. Eleanor resigned from the organization that owned the hall in protest — and helped arrange for Anderson to sing instead at the Lincoln Memorial. On Easter Sunday, Marian Anderson stood on those steps and sang to a crowd of some 75,000 people, with millions more listening on the radio. A private act of conscience had become a national moment.

Eleanor faced criticism, threats, and relentless political attacks. She kept going.

When Franklin died in 1945, many assumed her public life would end with his. Instead, she stepped into one of its most important chapters. President Harry Truman appointed her a U.S. delegate to the brand-new United Nations, where she chaired the Human Rights Commission and steered the painstaking negotiations behind the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. On December 10, 1948, the UN adopted it — a document affirming the dignity and rights of every human being on earth, shaped in no small part by the woman who had once struggled to believe she was enough.

Her life was not defined by the betrayal she found in a suitcase, nor by losing her parents, nor by her own deep insecurities. Those things shaped her. But they did not decide who she became. Eleanor Roosevelt didn't get the life she first imagined — so she built a different one, and used her pain, her independence, and her voice to make the world larger for millions of people.

Heros in our town

Just before noon on December 30, 2024, a man disguised as a delivery driver entered a downtown luxury retailer and approached staff. He demanded they fill a box with luxury handbags, threatening to shoot them if they refused. When staff declined and contacted security, the suspect fled the store.

Ejiofor Louis, a loss prevention officer, responded to the call and followed the suspect outside. He was quickly joined by fellow loss prevention officer Aaron Wong, who was on the phone with 911 providing real-time updates.

When the suspect entered a truck parked in a nearby alley, Louis and Wong intervened to prevent him from leaving. During the struggle to remove him from the vehicle, the suspect repeatedly reached for a shotgun on the passenger seat, threatening to kill them.

Police arrived to find the suspect on the ground and in handcuffs, with two seized weapons nearby. A subsequent search of the truck revealed improvised explosive devices, as well as a fully loaded shotgun.

For their courage and decisive actions, placing themselves in harm’s way to prevent serious injury or loss of life, Mr. Ejiofor Louis and Mr. Aaron Wong were awarded the Vancouver Police Board’s highest award for civilian bravery, the Award of Merit.

People I wish I met

Every now and again there is a long obituary.  I am always interested in what this person did in their life.  This is one is so interesting, it got me interested with "family-style dinner with lots of gravy"!  

Arthur Edward ‘Art’ Bates June 5, 1921 – October 19, 2014

We’ll celebrate Art’s life on Sunday, November 2, 2014 at an old-fashioned family-style dinner (with lots of gravy) from 6 to 9 pm at the Royal Canadian Legion Crescent Branch 240, 2643 128 Street, Surrey, BC V4A 3W6. Please advise if you plan to attend by emailing info@margobates.com by noon on Oct 29.

Arthur Edward Bates was born on June 5, 1921 in Ogema, Saskatchewan, Canada. Parents: Arthur and Ada Myrtle Bates. Moved to Hazelton, BC in 1937. Moved to Telkwa, BC in 1939. Served as an AB (Able Bodied) Seaman with the Royal Canadian Navy during WWII. Moved back to Telkwa after the War. Moved to Terrace, BC in 1960. Moved to White Rock, BC in 1971. Moved to Surrey, BC. First, the Peninsula Retirement Residence in 2007, and then to Westminster House in 2012.

Brother to Robert, George, Beryl, Richard, Gordon and Gerald. Husband to Frankie. Son-in-Law to William & Annie Noonan. Brother-in-Law to Doe, Bette, Art, Edie, Debbie and Jewel, Molly & Stan, Frank & Lou. Uncle to Bob Jr. (Judy) & Leanna (Bev), Joanne (Ray), Lynne (Larry), George Jr. (Janeen) & Jay (Shelley), Susan & Sandra (Brian), Steve (Carol) & Wendy (Leonard), Vera (Peter) & Art (Pauline), Bill (Pauline|Judy), Liz (Dave), Ann, Jeanne (Bud) & Judy (Rick). Father to Margo. Father-in-law to Russ. Grandfather to Rachael (Tommaso) & Joel (Emma), Honorary Grandfather to Tyson, Corina (Davan) & Ana (Karim) and Inaara. Great Grandfather to Damian, Anna & Miss Maggie.

Art was: A sign painter. Oil painter. Watercolourist. Inventor. TV weatherman. Politician. Ski jumper. Skier. Draughtsman. Personnel manager. Radio announcer. Sailor. Marksman. His father was a Northwest Mounted Policeman and an RCMP. General & Drill instructor in Royal Canadian Navy. Parade Float designer. Jersey cow herder. Made leather crafts. Prospector. Bus driver. Carpenter. House designer. Writer. Drummer. Trumpet player. Ukulele player in the key of ‘F’. Member of 1930’s Dance Band, The Rhythm Rollers. Graduate of H. Faulkner Smith Academy of Fine Art in Vancouver. Car salesman. Private pilot. Air show organizer. Fireman. Fire chief. Town councillor. Lay minister for the United Church. Restaurant owner. Hiker. Senior citizen. Dog owner. Stockbroker. Hospital patient. Housing development project superintendent. Newsletter editor. Newspaper columnist. Advertising Salesman. Sales Manager. Commercial artist. Railroad rider in the dirty thirties. Dairy farmer. Hawaiian tour guide. Game show host. Owner of the world’s only Banana Belt. Limerick writer. Lived in Victoria. Lived in Vancouver. Pipe smoker. Amethyst Miner. Molybdenum Miner. Forester. Short order cook. Timber Cruiser. Square Dancer (not his best feat). Nonagenarian. Loved to eat. Once weighed 137 pounds. Poet. Read the complete Oxford Dictionary. Charter President of Telkwa Kinsmen. Charter President of Terrace Kiwanis. Founding member of the Lower Mainland Yacht Co-op. Designed and helped to build Cenotaph at Terrace City Hall. Walked forty miles from Kitimat to Terrace in a walk-a-thon. Had a cabin at Lakelse Lake. Fell in a cesspool while at the cabin. Was chased by a grizzly. Killed a bear. Was chased by a wolverine. Knocked himself out when a wolf spider jumped on his chest. Allergic to horses. Allergic to cats. Owned a second-hand antique store. Received personal Christmas cards from Prime Minister Pierre Elliott Trudeau. Married to Frankie for 66 years. Hospitalized for two years due to lung condition during WWII. Mountain climber. Dreamed of opening the Seven Sisters Trail system. Learned the computer when he was 72. Owned a Honda named Fenry. A natural-born cusser. Invented a logging game called ‘Timber.’ Designed his team’s winning sandcastle, ‘Paul Bunyan & his ox Babe.’ Was right handed. Wrote like a doctor. Best hand-lettering sign painter in the family. Read the adventures of Tom Sawyer, and the adventures of Huckleberry Finn on his KOBO Reader. Loved Cheese Whiz. Had all his own teeth. Named his walker ‘Johnny.’ Invented Tru-Kut Saw Guide. Designed and produced a gold pan kit. Designed and produced commemorative Last Spike for Engine 374. In the late 1950s, invented, and in the late 1960s, patented, Action Roll System for rolling and laying forestry fire hose. The ‘hose roller’ is still in use today by forest services around North America. Saved the White Rock Pier in the 1970s. Honoured by the City of White Rock and BC Government for saving the White Rock Pier in 2013. At age 90 he worked on a patent application for a new invention.

Art died peacefully on Sunday, October 19, 2014 at Westminster House after a life well-lived. His daughter, son-in-law, nephew and niece were with him.

Thanks and love from our family to the caring staff at Westminster House for their support, kindness and friendship, and to our family doctor, Dr. David Anderson. His best medicine was laughing at Dad’s jokes. If you want to honour Art, his wishes were that you hug a loved one, say hello to someone new, or make a donation to your favourite charity. (Allergies run in the family … no floral tributes, please.)

Cruisin’ Into Retirement: A Travel Agent’s Favourite Alaska Story

For seventeen years, I’ve had the joy of helping people book cruises. I started with Expedia Cruises, learning the ropes one sailing at a time, and eventually moved to Maritime Travel, where I could offer full‑service planning. I’ve always loved it — not just the bookings, but the people. Many of my clients stay in touch on Facebook and Instagram, and I get to follow along as they share their sunsets, glacier photos, and celebratory cocktails. It’s a lovely way to see the world through their eyes.

Last spring, I got a call from someone retiring early. “I want to go to Alaska on the Star Princess. Book the cheapest inside cabin — but make sure I get the premium beverage package.”

I knew this couple enjoyed fine wine and good scotch, so that request made perfect sense. Easy enough. Done.

Two weeks later, an email arrived: two more couples wanted to join them. One wanted the cheapest inside cabin, and the other preferred a balcony. All three couples wanted the premium alcohol package. They were longtime colleagues, close friends, and — as I would soon learn — enthusiastic partiers.

The second couple asked about bidding for an upgrade from the cheapest inside to a balcony. I told her, “Put in the lowest bid plus four dollars and hope for the best.” She laughed and said she’d try it.

Then came the surprise: they added me to their group WhatsApp chat. Their group name? Cruisin’ Retired Bitches. They all worked together, all heading into retirement together, and all absolutely thrilled about this trip. They have t-shirts for the cruise!

For the last three months, I’ve been part of their chatter — the jokes, the planning, the excitement, the countdowns, and the daily “What are you packing?” debates. It’s been delightful watching their energy build as the cruise gets closer.

And yesterday, the best news arrived: The couple who booked the inside guarantee had their upgrade bid accepted. Not just any balcony — a deluxe mid‑ship balcony on the bump‑out, which means a huge private space with an incredible view. They were over the moon. The upgrade price was a total of $1,130.00 much cheaper than booking a balcony at the time they did but she took a chance and it worked for her. Then she showed a copy of her bottle return. She almost had enough bottles to pay for the upgrade. The post said "we party a lot"! I'm sure they will make good use of the Premium Alcohol Package!

That's one huge bottle refund!

I saw this online and thought they would love "Bar" bingo.  I gave it to them with their tickets

Moments like this remind me why I love what I do. Cruises aren’t just itineraries and cabin categories. They’re celebrations, friendships, new chapters, and shared joy. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get invited along for the ride — even if it’s only through a WhatsApp group full of retired cruisers who know how to have fun.

A Lifelong Love for the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo

My love for the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo began in 1990, on a summer coach tour around the UK. It was August, and tucked into our itinerary were tickets to the Tattoo — something I knew was special, but I had no idea just how deeply it would stay with me.

That night, sitting outdoors beneath the towering walls of Edinburgh Castle, I was completely swept away. The music, the precision, the pageantry, the massed pipes and drums echoing through the stone — it was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I enjoyed the show so much that I quietly promised myself: one day, I’ll come back.

It took nearly three decades, but I kept that promise.

In 2018, Cec and I — along with our daughter, son‑in‑law, and granddaughter — booked a UK cruise with Princess Cruises. And this time, we made absolutely sure our plans included tickets to the Edinburgh Tattoo. The date of our performance was August 11th, which happened to be my son‑in‑law’s birthday. With his Scottish ancestry and previous visits to Scotland, it felt like a meaningful way to celebrate.

The show was every bit as magical as I remembered. Watching it again, this time with our family, made it even more special. Everyone loved it — the music, the colours, the military bands from around the world, and of course the iconic setting. There is simply nothing like sitting outdoors at night, with Edinburgh Castle illuminated behind the performers, the sound of the pipes rising into the sky.

Whenever someone tells me they’re planning a trip to Scotland, I always mention the Tattoo. It’s not just a performance — it’s an experience. A tradition. A celebration of culture and history that leaves you feeling proud, moved, and thoroughly entertained.

Every year, the BBC broadcasts a special featuring highlights and most of the show. If you ever have an hour and want to be transported, watch the video below. It captures the spirit beautifully, but nothing compares to being there in person, surrounded by the music and the castle walls.

For me, the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo will always be one of the great joys of travel — a promise kept, a tradition shared, and a memory that continues to shine.

 

A great day to view large ships at Canada Place

Yesterday at Canada Place felt like one of those classic Vancouver cruise days—busy, bright, and full of anticipation. Three ships were in port, and two of them were true giants of the sea: Celebrity Edge, Royal Caribbean’s Ovation of the Seas, and the elegant Seabourn Encore.

The terminal buzzed from early morning onward. You could see excited passengers rolling their suitcases along the promenade, pausing to take photos of the ships towering over the harbour. The Edge and the Ovation, both large and modern, dominated the skyline with their sleek lines and colourful hull art. In contrast, the Seabourn Encore brought a quieter kind of luxury—smaller, refined, and unmistakably upscale.

For ship watchers, it was a perfect day. For travellers, it was the beginning of something special: new adventures, new ports, and that familiar thrill of stepping aboard. Canada Place has seen countless cruise days over the decades, but when three ships arrive together—especially ships of this calibre—it becomes a little celebration of travel right in the heart of the city.

The orange lift is a bar.  When you tender, it rolls down to the waterline so people in wheelchairs have great access!

This ship has the nicest tenders!  You can see they are proper chairs with a high back.  So comfortable.

The North Star is a mechanical arm with a glass observation capsule

I couldn't get a good picture of the Seaborn Encore as the pier was crowded.  I got this picture online.  It's an ultra luxury ship with an all suite, all verandah design.