I am older now and things have changed. I noticed that on the back deck of our home a couple of evenings ago. It was nice and warm, and the sun was dipping below the tree line. 

Not a cloud in the sky. I had a Jameson Whiskey (note the spelling) on the go. Everything should have been wonderful and right with the world because we are back to normal, aren’t we?

Do I feel safe? 

Somewhere in my soul though was the gnawing feeling that everything was not quite right. We have been through much during the past couple of years with COVID and we want things to be the same as before all this started, but I know that saying it does not make it so. 

Two people who are close to me have tested positive for COVID in the last week alone. I myself now have had no less than four vaccinations. Do I feel safe? No, I do not.

Given my advanced years I must be careful and I surely am. Now I know that things are opening again, but I also know that in the decision to go back to normal there are political and economic considerations. There are those considerations in everything in the universe. 

What have I learned in the past couple of years? Well for one thing COVID and the crisis has changed my life fundamentally. For instance, social contact has changed. There are people I have not seen in years, and they have not seen me.

Altered time-line?

There has been a time warp. The normal processes of a life lived have been altered. My contact with other people has absolutely changed. I go to shops and restaurants much less. The floor of my car might provide a clue. There are old take-out boxes and wrappers. Subway, Mickey Dees, The Colonel and all the rest.  

I ran into someone I know well the other day. It was on the street walking.  I had my mask on and my friend had hers on. We did lower the masks to speak. We did still recognize each other.

Do you know what struck me? She had aged. She was older than I remember her. Well of course she was!!!!! By a couple of years. Then came the realization that I guess that I have aged as well. 

My friend sees me as older than I was. I hope she was not too disappointed. Unfortunately, not being out in society is not a free pass for anyone against aging. 

There’s a phrase from the far east that appears appropriate; “The dogs bark and the caravans roll on.” 

NTV’s Jim Furlong can be reached by emailing: jfurlong@ntv.ca

My son, who was in the room the other night, had never heard of Andrews Range or Mrs.  Power’s bulls’ eyes. My son offered the opinion that given the circumstances, I must be older than dirt.

Technological miracle

Truer words were never spoken young man. How old could I be? Well, the world I was dumped into lo these many years ago was a world without television at all here in Newfoundland, although I had actually seen a real TV set owned by an American family from Fort Pepperrell. 

In 1953 it was just an ornament. CJON would not begin transmitting for another couple of years. The first working television I saw was in through the window of Great Eastern Oil on Water Street. I would be there in the evenings looking in with the Portuguese fishermen at what was a modern technological miracle.

My entertainment before the days of TV was radio. Dad and I listened to programs like Strange Stories of the Sea, The Shadow, The Lone Ranger, and The Doyle Bulletin, which was my first exposure to local news. Apart from that my brother and me looked at the sparks on the back of the fireplace in the living room and pretended the sparks were warring armies. Not exactly the 500-channel universe. 

This “older than dirt” world was also the place where the best “new thing” was sliced bread. Honest to God. When I was young there was no sliced bread.  Mammy’s Bakery and Our Own Bread introduced it to post-Confederation Newfoundland. McGuires also made bread and so did “Buttsy” Moore, who was a great Holy Cross footballer. His bakery was up on Hamilton Avenue across from Victoria Park. When sliced bread came it was as if there had been a miracle. 

Milk in those days was delivered to your door every morning from Brookfield Dairy. There was an image of a baby on the glass bottle with the instruction.  “Good morning. Please Return.” I always assumed they meant the bottle and not the baby. Kelsey’s Farm, down near Kenmount Road, was also in the milk business. Milk was pasteurized, but not homogenized so cream rose to the top. It was great.  

“Sinkers” were part of that world from the “Groc and Confs.”  So too were “Mary Anne’s” and bottles of Royal Chocolate or Royal Birch. That’s a long time ago. I guess ‘’older than dirt” about covers it.

NTV’s Jim Furlong can be reached by emailing: jfurlong@ntv.ca