Old friends together always find the time short. So it was that two weeks of our lives sped by in good company and grand adventures. The singing Scots wound their way west through the United States and crossed into Canada again at the International Peace Garden south of Brandon, Manitoba. The distance covered was 2700 kilometers. We were warmly welcomed by the family of the late friend we set out to honour with our songs. Nice people! Bright, and deep and true!
And the town! Who could have imagined such international outreach and world concern arising from one short main street, two short streets on either side, and hectares of farmland stretching forever towards the horizon? High school youth raised money for families in Africa, and a Shared Grains programme gathered in over $100.000 for international aid. These prairie Canadians are keen, hardworking and visionary. They made a lasting impression on us. We were proud to stand among them.
The ride home was across "Canada One" and Highway 17 over the rough and tumble top of Lake Superior. We had already eaten our emergency snow-stash of nuts and chocolate when we found ourselves stranded among hearty truckers in a coffee shop as we waited nearly four hours in a howling blizzard for crews to clear three tractor trailers that had jackknifed in the snow. Later that evening we greeted the Moderator and his wife in their home-town of Marathon. Coffee and conversation among friends was a pleasant way to meet the Boss!
Sudbury brought us face to face with our university past. We were warmly welcomed and feted by the college staff, and came away with a lovely dinner out, and two new, green fleeces bearing the logo of our alma mater. The only disappointment was that the sandwich I had left in my room in 1966 was no longer there. The current student occupant broke away from his studies long enough to tell me he knew nothing of my salami on rye.
On the Saturday night we gathered an audience of nearly 300 to give them our proverbial Scottish fare. It was the third time over the thirty years that we'd played that St. Andrew's venue, but they came out again anyway! Who says that Scots can't take a lickin'? On Sunday we packed it all up and headed out through the remnants of the late season snows towards the familiar warmth of home.
While we were Minneapolis we got last minute tickets to see "Jersey Boys", the broadway travelling production of the life and music of the Four Seasons. We bought tickets so late in the day that they had to put us dead-center in the front row. The songs were magic, taking us back to our heady teenage days. The story of the group was a little seedier however, they having come through the rough and tumble world of small time mobsters in New Jersey.
We walked home from the show thanking our lucky stars that our lives has been spent, big time, in the world of the church. That delicious fate has given us all the mighty and bright songs we still sing, be we on or off the road. Total distance home...2500 kms. Everyone safe and accounted for!
