Red Oak Trauma: Crash!

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I had intended to spend Wednesday doing laundry and recuperating from another long day in several airports. Pope Francis' US visit seemed to provide just the right combination of hopeful challenge and encouragement, so I was happy to watch him on TV as he approached the beautiful Basilica of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, DC.

Suddenly we heard a huge crack, followed by a crash, and then the power went out. A large, heavy limb on our red oak -- estimated to be over a hundred years old well before the beginning of the new millennium -- had landed on the garage roof, taking out power for 70 Xcel Energy customers on our block.

Limb before removal

A neighbor across the alley called 911 and the St. Paul Fire Department soon isolated the area with caution tape. Xcel arrived in late afternoon, before the expiration of the three-hour service window and by early evening power was restored to all but our next-door neighbors to the west and ourselves.

An excellent work crew from Marshall Electric, recommended as 24X7 service techs by Xcel, arrived before sunset to beginning hooking us up. They worked by flashlight for a couple of hours until both families had power, and we didn't have to go to bed in the dark. The three men worked cheerfully in the rain and relieved a bit of the tension that had accumulated since the event in mid-afternoon -- consummate professionals with a sense of humor.

The next morning the arborist from Rainbow Tree Care arrived at 8:00 a.m., the first of four tree services contacted to actually make an appointment and keep it. He summoned a work crew and three guys (Levi, Chuck and Matt) began the huge job of cutting extraneous branches before taking down the limb itself. They worked all day in the rain to get the job done, using their equipment in the confined space of our yard, cleaning up as they went along and after the job was finished. We were impressed by their excellent work, attention to safety and courtesy to us and interested neighbors.

A big chunk of wood

On Friday, Xfinity hooked up our cable, phone and Internet and Bob cleaned the deck and washed his Corvette, mercifully undamaged in the garage. The garage roof will have to be replaced, we think, but that's only one item on the agenda for our meeting with State Farm Insurance on Monday.

The tree doesn't look too odd, but the canopy is certainly much higher and both the deck and yard have much more sun. Landscaping decisions can wait for another day. For now, we're relieved no one was in the garage or yard on Wednesday, and we feel like winners, not victims. We're sorry our great neighbors to the west also suffered damage and inconvenience, but happy the children weren't playing outside when the limb came down.

Stratford: Two Magical Afternoons

For forty years, any activity that required more than 20 minutes of steady sitting was agonizing. Until knee replacement surgery, my knees simply couldn't tolerate a long movie, concert, sporting event or play. I was thrilled to experience zero pain last week during Stratford Festival performances of The Sound of Music and Hamlet.

The Sound of Music
This Globe and Mail review does a better job than I of critiquing this joyous, (to me) surprisingly emotional musical. I loved everything about it: the music, dancing, sets, costumes and, of course, the stars and von Trapp children. The dark, ubiquitous presence of the Nazis dims the bubble gummy quality of some of the pieces in the score and serves as a grim reminder of the desperate state of Europe in 1938.

I loved the abbey nuns' Gregorian chant and polyphonic choral pieces, and was interested in what I perceived as a "German" sound to the chorus -- not that pure, open, St. Olaf Choir quality that I tend to prefer. The nuns' voices were exuberant and the music was believable as prayer, rather than performance. The interpretation seemed very right for the circumstances.

Like most others in the theatre, I shed a few tears. A perfect afternoon after the awful previous day.

Hamlet
Unlike most of the people in the audience, I've seen only one or two performances of Hamlet, and at least one of them was on TV, so I didn't have a wealth of personal experience to inform an evaluation of relative merits of this production.

The Globe and Mail's review is one of the few negative commentaries I saw on this year's Hamlet. I guess I found the interpretation interesting rather than "disjointed", and I looked to this National Post review for a little balance. I wasn't sure about the costumes (vaguely contemporary) or the hair (also contemporary; at the end, hairspray sixties styles for the women), and on that afternoon, the sound seemed "blurry" on occasion, least from our excellent seats fairly near the stage.

No matter. What can I say? I like something a little edgy and daring. I appreciated the actors' involvement with the audience, almost inviting us to comment on the events on stage. My sister Marilyn, a veteran psychiatrist and very knowledgeable theatre goer, said Ophelia portrayed the best true-to-life madness she's ever seen in the many productions of Hamlet she's seen. And here's a personal bias: Jonathan Goad is a very good looking Hamlet with a perfect delivery of a brilliant text. I also liked Geraint Wyn Davies' somewhat beefy, dissolute Claudius who reminded me of a Minneapolis Aquatennial commodore.

These two great afternoons were a gift from Marilyn. I was delighted with the entertainment and in awe of the fact that I had no knee pain at all on either afternoon.

Stratford: A Long Day's Journey between Nights

Stratford is just west of Kitchener

Stratford photos.
Anticipation
I'd been looking forward to my visit with sister Marilyn for several months.  I usually fly into Toronto's large Pearson airport, but in a moment of brilliance, I booked a flight to Kitchener via Chicago O'Hare, knowing that Marilyn's home in Stratford is about 30 miles from the airport, thereby knocking off at least an hour of drive time in each direction. I had visions of us enjoying a glass of wine on the patio before I had time to unpack my bag on Thursday afternoon. If only I had known ...
Dark and stormy night
I was a little apprehensive on Thursday when I awoke to continuing rain after a stormy night. Bob drove me to MSP in the early morning darkness and the trip started off well, with short lines at security and an easy hike to the gate. The first sign of potential trouble became evident with a delay n the arrival of the incoming flight from Chicago. So we left MSP late and then unsettled weather delayed our arrival at O'Hare. I began to worry about the 54 minutes I had to make my connection to Kitchener.
No Kitchener flight for me
Problems began immediately after our arrival in Chicago. A power failure resulted in jetway delays, and despite a very efficient and brisk walk to the Kitchener gate I missed getting on the plane. Turns out a massive systems failure at American Airlines had crippled information delivery, and I had no way of knowing just then that the flight would not leave for at least another hour, but the aircraft doors had  been closed, and my seat had (presumably) been sold to some other customer. Surely they could have found a way to get me and one other passenger, a woman from India, on that plane.
Rerouted
As soon as the computer system came back up, I raced to the desk to book another flight. A sour and tired customer service rep wasn't helpful as I struggled briefly to decide between a 3 p.m. departure to Toronto over a late evening flight to Kitchener that wouldn't get me to the airport until after 10:00 p.m. I decided on Toronto and immediately got on the phone with the very pleasant and efficient Shelby at Stratford Airporter, who booked me on a 7:30 p.m. shuttle that would get me to Marilyn's door in Stratford shortly after 9:00 p.m. Everything was looking good.
Phantom 3:00 p.m. flight
Off to from Concourse G  to a new gate in Concourse H. Three o'clock came and went, with occasional "updates" from American. The plane was "in the hangar" and didn't arrive until about 5:00 p.m., by which time a storm had moved over Chicago, with lightning and hail that made departure impossible. We were finally called to board around 6:30, but elation soon turned to dismay when we were told that our flight crew had "timed out", and we would have to wait for a new pilot, on stand-by somewhere. The pilot eventually showed up and we seemed to be ready to go. By now the sun was setting and everyone was tired and hungry, since most of us had missed a couple of meals and some passengers had been travelling since the previous day. A couple of crackers and a drink would have been nice. A woman in front of me thought we should all be given a glass of wine. Ha!
Change in luck
The flight to Toronto was quick and efficient, and we sailed through Customs and Immigration. I followed Shelby's instructions to the ground shuttle desk, though the 9:30 shuttle was long gone. I was told that "Plan B" would get me to the Kitchener Holiday Inn via an Airways shuttle and I'd then hook up with the Stratford Airporter for the final leg. We were underway just before 10:30 and the two shuttles went off without a hitch.
Saints ...
Yesterday was made easier by all the wonderful people I met: the young mother so in love with her three-month-old baby that even all the delays couldn't dampen her happiness; the cheerful woman returning to Toronto from Ontario, California, where she was working with the Affordable Care Act; Brenda, my pleasant and wise seat companion on her way home to Guelph after a business trip in Des Moines, Iowa; everyone at Stratford Airporter and Airways Transport, including the  administrative staff and two friendly, competent drivers. I especially enjoyed conversation with a fellow shuttle rider who, like me, was headed to Stratford.
... and sinners
On the minus side, I found most American Airlines staff unsympathetic and lacking in communication skills. I certainly understand the frustration of trying to muddle through a day of chaos without reliable information systems, but it would have been so easy to make everyone's day a little easier, if only someone had stepped up. No one did.
At Last!
I arrived at Marilyn's by 12:30, sixteen and a half hours and a time zone away from my departure. I was a little taken aback to be told that she was almost expecting a heavy knock from the OPP, instead of my timid little tap on the door. I was, of course, ten hours late. The A beer and some cheese, hummus and crackers as well as a few good laughs concluded the day nicely. I couldn't help thinking about Syrian refugees in some hostile land, with no happy outcome to yet another perilous day.