Goldie Luckey of Round Hill, Nova Scotia ...

Meet Goldie Luckey, this week's featured author ..

A World Apart

     “Oh, I think I see land, it looks kind of barren Darlene, mostly rocks and low shrubbery. Although it could be an illusion, it’s hard to see anything through this pea soup fog.”  

      “That’s why we call it ‘The Rock’ Michelle. But trust me, the people make up for the climate and once the sun comes out it’s a different world.”

      ‘That water is getting far too close for comfort Darlene, is it normal to see Seagulls sitting on rocks from a plane?  Oh, thank God, we’re finally turning towards land, phew!  Swimming in the Atlantic is on my bucket list for some opportunistic time, but my visions lead more towards jumping off a dock.”

      “Oh, that was just a typical landing Michelle! You are in for an experience my friend.  By the time you go back to Toronto you’ll know why I always say we’re different. 
      Well, the airport looks normal, quite modern actually.  Look at that massive hoard of people, jumping up and down and yelling.  They can’t all be here to welcome us. 

     “There’s Darlene!  There she is Mom!” 

     “Hi ya Darlene, what’s ya at!  You’re a sight for sore eyes!”

     "Oh my, my love although you do look nice, you need a good feed of fish and brewis to put some meat on those bones” 

     “This must be your friend from up along. You’re such a lovely looking girl! Michelle is it?” 

     “Yes and it’s nice to meet you Mrs. Gosse, I feel as though I already know you, Darlene talks about her family constantly.”

     “I don’t know how she can live in that concrete jungle; she should come home where we can look after her properly.  Ya know, the youngsters get an education and before their diploma dries, they’re beating it to the St. John’s airport and hopping on the first plane to Toronto.”

      We’ve been driving on this Trans Canada Highway for what seems like forever and I’ve never seen so many rocks and evergreens.  “Are we almost there Darlene?”

       "Just around the bend Michelle.  Relax.  You're virtually jumping up and down!"

      Darlene says that her town is one of the oldest ones in North America and dates back to 1583.  Would you believe that the pirate Peter Easton made it his headquarters in 1610?  Oh this is so quaint, saltbox houses in every colour of the rainbow and beyond the cliffs the newly arrived sun is glistening like crystal on the ocean. The salt scented air is wafting in through the open car window.  The on-line pictures sure didn’t prepare me for this.

       A woman is hanging half way out her window.  Her shrill voice is attacking my sensitive ears as I strain to understand the blatant words she is yelling at bullet speed.  Her tight perm could only have been achieved by sticking her finger in a light socket and her dress makes the rainbow hewed houses look mundane.

     “Oh, there’s Emily, she has the longest nose in town, nothing or nobody is sacred with that woman!  She has a tongue like a miller’s clap dish.  I cringe to think of what’s going to come out of her mouth next! Take everything she says with a grain of salt, ok?”

     I am learning that Newfoundlanders speak very fast and coupled with the accent I’m afraid that ‘pardon’ is going to be one of my most repeated words.

      Hello Emily, yes Darlene is home, she’ll be over for a cup of tea later, I’m sure she will” 

      "Quick, put the car in the garage before she has a chance to get down the stairs!"

     “I love your dining room set Mrs. Goss!  Have the spindle chairs and a beautiful claw legged table been in your family a long time?”

       "Yes, Michelle my love.  She is an antique dating back 100 years.  It belonged to my great grandmother so I look after it like I would a baby."

     “Mom loves her old furniture Michelle!  I prefer the modern stuff myself.   In any case, let’s get some sleep; you’ll soon need matchsticks to keep your eyes open.   Tomorrow you’re in for some local excitement!  We’ve been invited to the annual Lobster fest.”

    Even after a good night sleep, my nightmare moment of seeing what seemed like hundreds of crustaceans walking around on Uncle Joe’s countertop, took some getting used to.  He insisted I call him Uncle Joe as everybody does and his babysitting of clawed creatures started with his nomination as the lobster chef for the ‘Time’ tonight.  Who knows, I might even meet a handsome Irish lad to sweep me off my feet, anything is possible.

     The arena is already bursting at the seams and just as I start obsessing about having to stand all night I see somebody waving and hear  “Darlene, Michelle, over here girls, we saved your seats. Sit down and have a cup of cheer!”  I know I have never met this very friendly woman before, but obviously she knows who I am.   I guess word travels fast when you’re visiting from ‘up along’.   Looking around, I notice to my chagrin that almost everybody is dressed in wedding like garb and jewelry.  I feel slightly underdressed in my new understated soft pink cotton dress with matching sandals purchased at Holt and no jewelry.  I hope my dream man appreciates designer clothing.

     “Darlene, look at that little old guy over there, I’m sure he’s used half a jar of greasy kid stuff on his hair.  Works well with the bright red and green plaid shirt, grey striped wool pants and suspenders, don’t you think?  The rubber boots are a classy touch.”

     “Oh, that’s Ronnie Fitzgerald; he always wears his knee rubbers.  He thinks he’s a film star ever since he had a bit part in the movie ‘Orca’.  Hot stuff our Ronnie!  He thinks he’s a real ladies man.”

      “Oh my gosh!  Darlene is he doing what I think he is?  Is he crooking his finger at me from across the dance floor?  Nobody crooks their finger at me and I’m not dancing with anybody with that kind of gleam in his eye!”

     “For god sake Michelle, he’s harmless!  Loves to slow dance though I hear!

     “Oh no, he’s coming over, don’t you leave me!”

     “Allo me little blonde love’, I’ve been watchin’ you from across the room and I tought’ you’d like a dance around the floor wit’ me.  You’re from up along aren’t ya”?  You coulda’ stepped outa’ me movie…lovely lookin’ maid you are.”  At least that is what I think he said.

     I swallow hard and say my usual. “Pardon?”   He just smiles from ear to ear, takes my hand and leads me out to the dance floor.  Lady in Red starts to play and my Irish prince leads me in an old fashioned waltz.  When the music stops, he takes my hand, leads me back to my chair, bows and heads off for his next conquest. 

Goldie Luckey

 

I have always expressed myself through writing and have been working on a family history for more than ten years.  After retiring and moving to Elliot Lake in 2009 I was fortunate to become a member of the Elliot Lake Writers’ Workshop.  My more experienced writer friends encouraged me to write, which resulted in five of my stories being published in the workshops’ anthology ‘Penpourri’.   Now living in rural Nova Scotia, I am in the process of writing a series of short stories for a book on The Adventures of Goldie Maxine. This book will chronicle my childhood experiences growing up in Newfoundland.