And BAM! 17 Years Flew By

Tonight we spent the evening visiting with fine Canadian friends that we lived life with up in Northern Alberta in the early 90s.  I haven’t written much about our Northern escapades in a while.  Quite a few memories were reborn in my mind tonight…. quality fodder for blogging.  Good times!  I love love love reconnecting with friends where it seems like NO time has gone by…. except for our husband’s higher foreheads and a few more smiling lines for us girls.  We chatted and laughed and got caught up on 17 years of information in seven hours. 

When we lived together in Fort Vermilion, Alberta our first children were born within four months of each other.  We shared many meals and phone calls in those early parenting years.  Hard to believe we both have four kids now.  And my 17-year-old daughter LOVED being introduced to a “stranger” and told that she had changed her diapers.  :o)  Keepin’ ’em humble.  That’s my job as the mom.

We’ve matured over the years, but one constant remained… God is good.  All the time.  Hard times come and go.  But God is good.  All the time.  Amen.

A Tribute to Our Homeland, Canada!

Happy Canada Day, eh!  Yes, July 1st is once again upon us… without much fanfare, sadly, down here in Arizona.  Not a Canada Day goes by in the Crosby household, however, without singing the national anthem, waving the maple leaf and using out Canadian table runner.  Yes, we actually do.  We’ll probably even listen to Bob and Doug’s Great White North song as well as the I Am Canadian song.  All true heartfelt melodies to our rich Canadian blood. 

In memory of our time in the Great White North (take off, eh!) here, for you, on this Canada Day, a photo tribute to the land in which we met, schooled, froze, birthed two children, played hockey, made lasting friends and of course, spent 10 year and had AWESOME gardens!

Rick and I met at Trinity Western University in Langley, BC., barely over the border.  I could literally run back to America in an afternoon, if need be.  Here is an enhanced photo of our campus.  The glittery blue water is more commonly known as “the swamp”.  But the greenness in the landscape is true as well as that train track on the lower right that ran FAR too close to our dorms in the middle of the night.

During college, we also lived in Fort Langley, a sleepy little historical town just north of the campus.  Again, we somehow gravitated to the train tracks…. unfortunately, much closer that time.  We lived in a basement suite at about 11:00 in the following picture, this side of the island. 

When we finished school, Rick accepted his first flying job in Fort Vermilion, Alberta, a dinky northern town nestled on the Peace River.

This is what we looked like when we took off our hoods:

Larisa was born while we lived in the North country, but we quickly moved south to the little town of Spruce Grove, Alberta, just outside of Edmonton, Rick’s birthplace.  It was an eight hour drive from the Fort… AND there was Taco Bell.  We had returned to civilization!  Whew.

We were only 15 minutes from West Edmonton Mall, known simply as “West Ed”, the largest mall in Canada.  It was sublime.  We spent many a day there shopping (obviously), seeing movies at the $2 theater, watching the dolphins, steering clear of Hooters and buying material at Fanny’s Fabrics.  There is even a gigantic water park to make it seem like you are really in some warmer climate in a balmier part of the earth.

It was in Edmonton that Austin was born and from the Edmonton area that we made our departure to my homeland, the United States of America, known in Canada simply as “The States“.  We have been in AZ for 12.5 years and we still miss Canada… from late May to early October.  Happy Canada Day, eh!

The Life of a Pilot’s Wife

Fort Vermilion Air Strip c. 1991

The life of a pilot’s wife seems to invoke visions of grandeur in the minds of those who have never been a pilot’s wife.  I’m here today to disprove inaccurate information and lay the truth out for all to witness.  First of all, just have a looksie at the harsh weather conditions we were faced with for three years!  I’m a California girl and that’s a parka with fox fur trim, moose hide mitts (made by Rick’s grandma, Googum) and Sorels!  I’d never tried on boots that came in two parts until we moved to Fort Vermilion, Alberta.  Luckily they came in hot pink!  I guess that the weather was not due to being a pilot’s wife… it was due to a newbie pilot putting in his ‘time’ in the North before heading to bluer skies in warmer climates. 

Just a few glimpses into the strange happenings of a pilot’s family are indeed overdue. 

Glimpse #1.  We were driving our 1971 Toyota Corona Deluxe late at night when the dash lights cut out.  Rick yelled, “The instrument panel is offline!”  I yelled back, “Luckily we’re safe on the ground!”  Made me wonder if he thought he was flying a plane…. they don’t have to pay quite as close attention when they’re up in the air… hmmmmm.

Glimpse #2.  It was the middle of the night and I was stirred from blissful sleep as Rick sat up in bed and yelled, “More left power!”  I replied, “Roger that,” and he laid back down having never woken up at all.  :o)  I wonder what would have happened if I yelled, “Man overboard?”

Glimpse #3.  Anytime you call a pilot for an address or a name they always spell it in the phonetic alphabet.  Over the years I’ve gotten used to it, but it was a surprise for others when Rick said we lived on Yankee Uniform Charlie Charlie Alpha Street.  I’ve still not figured out the numbers… niner, niner… whatever.  I just add er to the end of all of them.   Oner, Twoer, Threeer.  (mockful, I realize.)

Glimpse #4.  We needed a new washing machine and were sitting together, husband and wife, reading washer reviews online.  I would suggest a model.  He would say, “18 cycles!  How many did our old washer have?”  “12”  “Why do we need 6 more?  Our clothes were clean with 12.”  I explained that the new and improved cycles were for specific washing cycles that would be useful.  He didn’t get it.  This went on and on for about an hour.  Finally I lovingly explained, “When you buy an airplane, do you want me sitting there saying, ‘Ailerons?  How many ailerons did your last plane have?  Did you use both of them?’ ”  And he let me pick out my washing machine all by myself.  You gotta talk to a pilot in pilot smack.

Glimpse #5.  I asked Rick to put in a load of laundry.  We have a new fangled LG frontloader that lights up like a cockpit when you hit the magic button.  I heard the laundry basket hit the floor.  The door opened.  Loading.  Door closed.  And then there was silence for about four minutes.  He eventually hollered, “I’m not checked out on this machine.”  WHAT?  There’s only 5 buttons on the washer.  How many are in the cockpit?  Laundry Flight Training followed.

Glimpse #6.  Important Terms to Know:  Gas is for cars.  Fuel is for planes.  We saw a bumper sticker that said, “I love the smell of Jet A early in the morning.”  Rick chuckled.  I didn’t get it.  Jet fuel stinks.  My pilot tried to explain that it is such a familiar smell that means good times are coming.  I guess it’s like the smell of the glue gun??  The sunscreen???  The movie popcorn????

And no, I don’t get to fly with him in his current job, something to do with insurance.  No frequent flyer miles here.  No jump seat privileges.  It’s a glamorous life, for sure!

Stupid but Fun!!!

Have you ever done something in your life that was so stupid it could have got you fired but on the other hand, that “something” was so much FUN!?!?  It was the winter of 1993 and Linda and I were working in Fort Vermilion in northern Alberta.  I was flying as an air ambulance and charter pilot and Linda was teaching kindergarten.  It was approx. 9:42 pm and I was playing hockey at the local rink when my pager went off. (Remember those annoying things)?  When I found a phone, dispatch relayed to me that I needed to be at the airport within 15 minutes for a medivac flight to Fox Lake.  I was a little ticked because our game wasn’t over and I would probably not be in bed until after 1 a.m.  I got changed, drove to the airport, met the other pilot Lance, towed our King Air 90(see above) out of the hangar and then loaded up the paramedics in the airplane.  

There is something you need to know about flying air ambulance in a small community.  Quite often we would get to know our patients fairly well because we would fly some of them on a frequent basis.  So was the case with a certain patient I will call “John Doedoe“.  John was known for faking illness at times so he could get a free flight to town because Fox Lake was a bit isolated (a strike against socialized medicine).  He knew the paramedic lingo and would use it often.  Before the EMT would ask him what his pain level was at John would offer the information by stating, “On a scale of 1-10 my pain level is a 10”.  The medics and the pilots found this quite humorous.

So here we were taxiing out to runway 25 when the paramedic Allan casually asked Lance and I, “Guess who we’re going out to get”?  All of us in unison unenthusiastically said “John Doedoe”.  Allan hinted as he asked me, “Hey Rick, I heard there’s going to be a lot of turbulence out there tonight, right“?  I shot back with “I got the same report“!  We all laughed.  We arrived at our destination on a snow covered runway where the nurses would put out battery-powered lamps on the sides of the snowbanks so we could land safely at night.  (We could always tell when there was a new nurse putting out the lamps because the lamps would be put very close together giving us very little room for error when landing between the lights…but that’s another story).  We loaded up Doedoe and took off for Fort Vermilion.  After levelling off at 8500 feet I decided to have some fun.  I took the yolk and jiggled it forward-back and side-to-side, forward-back-side-to-side.  I could hear the medics in the back chuckling a little.  I offered the yolk to Lance and he did the same but with a bit more force.  The chuckling turned into laughter.  Being the Captain, I was not about to be outdone by my co-pilot so I proceeded to yank and bank and create moderate to severe turbulence.  The laughter in the back of the cabin had turned to convulsive hysteria!!!  At that point, reality overtook me and I realized that I had crossed the line from professionalism to feeble-mindedness!

The next day a friend of ours who was a nurse at the hospital called Linda and asked if I had brought in Doedoe from Fox Lake.  Linda asked why and Deb proceeded to tell her that Doedoe was telling everyone that, “That Rick Crosby was trying to scare me last night!  He was rocking the airplane and making it bumpy”!  I appreciate friends that think the best of me because Deb told him, “Rick would never do anything like that“!  When Linda called and told me what was going on, I knew I was in trouble.  I went straight to the GM of Little Red Air Service and relayed to him what had happened before he heard from other sources.  In a small town of 700 people news travels fast…especially when it’s ‘pilots who make their own turbulence’ kind of news!  A couple of days later the GM called me into his office and with a smirk on his face “tried” to rebuke me for my unprofessional behavior.  I bet he wished he had thought of it first!  He gave me a letter of reprimand and I believe to this day it is still in my file in Fort Vermilion. 

What did I learn from this you ask?  Save the fun for your last day at work!!!

Just Call Me Little Red

In 1992 we were living in Fort Vermilion, Alberta, right near Santa’s workshop, and we decided to venture down to THE CITY…. a nine hour drive to Taco Bell. An average temperature for Jan. was -35C…. or FRIGID. In the winter the logging dirt road was frozen over and it saved us about three hours of driving time straight to Edmonton.  The initial 160 mile stretch of roadway was barren and desolate. Red Earth was the un-mapped gas station three hours from home.  We would notify friends of our departure time and if we didn’t call in 3 1/2 hours, they were to come looking for us.

We were driving a royal blue 1985 Honda Civic four door hatchback with minimal rust. It was late at night, but with the Northern lights, the sky was surprisingly lit as were the seven-foot snowbanks on each side of the “highway.” It was like driving in an Olympic luge tube… minus the bobsled.  Music was blaring and we were making good time when I mentioned to Rick from beneath my fur-lined parka hood that I saw something on the road ahead. As he slowed down to 25 miles per hour we came upon a wolf pack running down the “highway” in the same direction we were heading. There were 6 or 7 full grown, bushy white wolves with fur so thick, they looked like lions.  When we were almost to their heels, the pack split and we were driving in between the wolves.  It was surreal.

Sitting in a Honda Civic is basically like sitting on a skateboard.  The wolves’ heads were even with ours and they kept glancing at us with their silver eyes as they ran within 3 feet of the car.  CREEP ME OUT!  I proceeded to do what any civil minded woman would do… I began locking all the door locks… so the wolves wouldn’t get in the car.  Rick burst out in a guffaw saying, “Yeah, wolves are known for opening car door handles.”  Not funny.  He continued mocking me, “At least we’re driving our Civic and not our VW Rabbit!  Wolves eat rabbits.”  I was not laughing.

Our journey in the heat of the pack lasted less than a minute, but it felt like 487 minutes to me.  I was raised in the Silicon Valley, CALIFORNIA, for Pete’s sake.  I wasn’t accustomed to arctic wolves.  Finally the wolves separted and we began pulling away from the pack.  My mind was running amuck, as you can well imagine.  I started asking wolf questions.  “Do wolves eat people?”  Rick was very reassuring, “Not very often.  Only if they’re REALLY hungry and there’s not prey available.”  Good.  Relief washed over me.  “Those wolves looked REALLY hungry,” he added for his personal amusement.  Not funny AGAIN!

Rick thought the whole episode was very COOL!  I felt like Little Red Riding Hood trapped in a Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom show gone bad. 

See what I’ve put up with for 21 LONG years????  I hope I don’t have nightmares tonight. (Or if I do, I hope it’s the orangutan beating one again… see previous post:  https://mysistersjar.wordpress.com/2008/05/03/pre-book-signing-nightmare/.)

www.LindaCrosby.com

?#1 from My Sister’s Jar – Fav Holiday

Tell about a favorite holiday tradition you had growing up.

Who doesn’t love Christmas? Well, you know, other than Orthodox Jewish people.  There are so many little gems wrapped up in my mind involving traditions, tastes, sights, smells, feelings and songs.

Spritz.  Mom would make those darling, dainty pressed-cookies each year that melted in your mouth as sugar-buttery goodness.  Yum!

Carolling.  Not that we participated much, but I loved the few successful times we did.  One was in Fort Vermilion, Alberta when Dad, Mom and Christy came up for a -40 degree Christmas.  We sang four part harmony to the Hepburns on a crystal clear, freezing night under the moonlight.  It was delightful.

Candlelight Church Services.  I’ve only been to 3 or 4, but there is something holy about candle light in Jesus’ house on his birthday.  Of course, not a single candle-lit service passed without me visualizing Michael Jackson’s hair bursting into flames on that Coke commercial.

Nanaimo Bars.  Many Canadian mothers made ’em.  Only mine cut the custard layer and hand-spread the chocolate on each one.  You know, those chocolated-then-cut bars always tasted a little cheap to me.

Christmas Lights.  Sparkling lights on houses and in yards are so beautiful ~ especially in snow. I think that is the lone happy memory I have about living in Northern Canada in the wintertime – OK, that’s two, counting the four part carolling aforementioned.  One year when we lived in Spruce Grove, we drove into Edmonton with all the Crosby’s in our party van.  We went to Candy Cane Lane and drove with the windows down and the sliding door open.  OK, freezing but fun.

Fire in the Fireplace.  Crackling.  Popping.  Hissing.  Spitting.  There’s something LIVE in a fire.  I also am secretly addicted to staying warm – so a toasty hearth draws me like a fly to fly paper.

The Empty Ornament Box.  It was 1992… or was it ’93? We were stuck in Fort Vermilion for Christmas so my family sent a box of gifts to us.  I don’t remember any other contents of that box – but a single small package addressed to Rick.  It was an empty box that was supposed to have a Hallmark ornament in it.  Mom never checked if it was actually in there when she bought it… and well… it wasn’t… mailed 2,000 miles to the frozen tundra…empty.  Still makes me smile.

Drift Wood Angel.  Dad’s cousin Jo painted an angel on a large piece of driftwood that hung near our entry all the days of my childhood.  When tole-painted angels on driftwood finally went out of style ~ I inherited it… in 2005.  I have proudly hung the slab in our entry ever since.  Long live driftwood angels!  Noel.