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    Out of My Mind: In Love with Life
    Out of My Mind: In Love with Life
    Out of My Mind: In Love with Life
    Ebook217 pages2 hours

    Out of My Mind: In Love with Life

    By Francis Ruiter

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    About this ebook

    Francis Ruiter, who came to Canada in 1948, is the author of Journal of a Dutch Immigrant. In his second book, Out of My Mind, Francis continues to recount stories of his past. In simple narrative and verse, he reflects on life's hopes and fears, sorrows and joys. In the final entry, "Facing Darkness," the author relates his confrontation with, and emotional triumph over, a diagnosis of Alzheimer's disease. "Poetry is about our experiences, strength, and hopes. I admire your honesty and humor, and for smiling in the face of adversity. The world can enjoy and garner strength from you." ~ Marilyne Smith, a reader.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWord Alive Press
    Release dateJan 4, 2015
    ISBN9781770695795
    Out of My Mind: In Love with Life

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      Book preview

      Out of My Mind - Francis Ruiter

      Stories

      Joy Ride 1945

      Summer Wine in 1951

      Smoking Cigarettes

      The Cowboy

      Horsing Around

      Language Skills

      Grand Prairie, AB Oct 1955

      Going Out for Dinner

      Kayaking

      New Life

      Impatience

      Mount Edith Cavell

      Pea Soup

      The Country South West of Calgary

      Turkish Bath

      Young Man’s Christian Association (YMCA)

      Wrestling Match in Beijing. 2001

      Signing books

      March 2010

      Telegrapher (1953)

      My Loved One

      Maastricht, the Netherlands

      Papa and Three Daughters

      Taxi

      The Great Plains

      The Restless Traveler By Jim Schaap

      June 27-03: Creation Awareness and camping

      Renaissance in Italy

      Part Two: Poetry

      Catching Up at 50

      Aging

      Apache Junction AZ

      Back Packing

      Bangladesh

      Bicycle Dream ‘87

      Boasting

      Christmas 2009

      Creation Awareness

      King’s University College

      King’s University College – Alternate Version

      Dear Professor of Philosophy

      My Memoir

      Cuban experience 1998

      Elton John

      Friday 1987

      Monday following

      Grace 80th Birthday

      Handicapped

      Transported to Hospital; Ambulance speeding

      Winter 1990
      If At First You Don’t Succeed—Try, Try Again
      In the Deep
      Along the road
      Change in Life
      King’s University College
      La Tourtelle
      Lamentation
      Languages
      Latitude 34
      Luke 2
      Memoir at Eighty
      My dear Valentine
      My Memoir
      My Sinful life
      Pateience
      Dear Professor of Philosophy
      Physical Therapy
      Prayer for Reconciliation
      Swimming
      The Coppermine river adventure
      Thankful for Gods Grace,that I might be one
      The Love of My Life
      The Purpose driven life
      To my dear One
      Touchmark at Wedgewood
      Touchmark Dining
      Touchmark Family
      Traveling Alone
      Vincent Van Gogh 1853-1891
      YMCA
      Epilogue
      Alzheimer
      Psalm Twenty Three

      Joy Ride 1945

      By the time the war ended I was 16 years old. Not only did I celebrate the end of the war, I rejoiced that I was finally old enough to get my driver’s license. Getting my license was one of the highlights of the year and I could barely wait to jump on a motorbike. I remember one evening I wanted to show off my skills so I asked a hired field worker if he would care to join me on a bike ride. He agreed and his excitement was fuelled by the notion that this would be his first ride ever on a motorbike.

      My passenger was somewhat apprehensive climbing onto the back seat, but did not want to miss out on the excitement. I took the main road along the dike that overlooks the Zuider Zee heading for the nearby town of Enkhuizen, a 17th century seaport.

      Electricity was still scarce so the darkness covered us like a blanket as we entered Enkhuizen. Suddenly a bright, red light appeared out of nowhere and I realized the local constable was doing his duty. Since I did not have the required documents with me I decided to evade him by first slowing down, then gunning the engine and making an abrupt turn into a side street, crossing over a small bridge spanning a canal and turning my headlights off.

      I could see the policeman trying to pursue me on his bicycle. My motorized vehicle surpassed his mode of transportation by miles. Meanwhile, my passenger, although a little scared, hooted with the thrill of adventure. I had to make a decision but the options were few. It wouldn’t be easy hiding from the law because there were very few motorized vehicles around after the war. Someone was bound to notice two rascals on a motorbike. All the constable need do was to ‘ask around!’ We needed a strategy. Rather than making a long detour and risk meeting up with other policemen I decided to circle around the city at low speed so not to make much noise. Hopefully the officer would still be searching in the other direction. Sure enough I got away without being discovered so I high-tailed it for home. My friend on the rear saddle had the thrill of his life and lots to talk about with his fellow workers.

      A week later I went for another ride through our own village but still had not located the necessary documents – I had actually forgotten to search for them. On my way home from this trip I spied that same constable standing with his bicycle under a street light in my neighbourhood. He waved his flashlight for me to stop. I thought, Once lucky, twice smart. I acted on impulse – foolishly. I should have known that the local cop knew everybody in town and also knew who owned a motorcycle. As I took off he followed me to my home. Realizing that was not the place to be, I headed for my brother’s house to see if he might know where those missing papers were to operate a motor vehicle.

      Meanwhile the policemen went to our home and gave my mother an earful.

      My brother lived half a mile down the road from us. I asked him about those lost papers. He did not know where they were so after stalling for as long as I could, I headed out. I had barely left my brother’s place in the general direction of home, when red lights began flashing. I knew I was in deep trouble. No use trying to evade him this time around. I was nabbed. The constable had another officer with him who was watching from the opposite direction just in case I tried to get away again.

      My uniformed friend was not very happy with me, to say the least. His bulging, crimson face spewed forth vulgarities and a reprimand that remains forever etched in my brain. He tossed the book at me charging me with five offences. Eventually he allowed me to go home but I was required to appear at the police station the following morning to produce the necessary documents.

      Before making a full confession to my father, I talked to my younger brother who told me that the police officer had stormed into our home the night before demanding to know my whereabouts.

      My father, bless his heart, kept his cool and counseled me on how to proceed with the charges against me. He helped me locate the paperwork I needed then told me to be remorseful and to apologize profusely to the officer for my careless behavior.

      I took my father’s sage advice, hoping to minimize the serious charges. The officer had cooled down considerably. After letting me have my say and hearing my apology, he withdrew two of the five charges which meant I would not have to go to court. I figured he was probably sparing my father the embarrassment. I was one relieved young man…

      Lesson for the day: Don’t try to be a smart-aleck and don’t push my luck!

      2004

      Summer Wine in 1951

      In my Ford pick up truck on a Friday afternoon, Peter my cousin, and I headed home, heaving left the sawmill on a mountain side, where we were employed. Before leaving, a fellow worker, Harry, asked me if I could get him a half-gallon of wine, while I was in town and bring it to him when returning on Sunday night. Sure, sure, no problem, I said

      Peter and I stayed overnight with his parents. I bought the wine on Saturday morning and hid it in a space behind the seat of my Ford. On Sunday morning after attending a church service, we enjoyed a delicious meal of potato and fresh vegetables. At Peter’s parents place. After the meal Peter’s parents took a nap. Then being a sunny afternoon, Pete and his brother John decided to go for a drive in my pickup truck.

      We headed for an open bush area a few miles away from the farm, to enjoy the scenery. It was hot inside the truck, and we were getting thirsty. We wondered where we might get a drink of water to quench our thirst. Then I remembered that I had a half-gallon of wine behind the seat of the truck and asked if they would like a sip. I explained Harry’s request, then I shrugged and decided we could have a little taste. I figured our friend Harry wouldn’t mind. We reasoned that we could share the cost of the wine with him when we get back to the sawmill on Sunday night.

      Under the shade of a few trees, sitting in our Truck, we took a taste and tasted some more. Birds flew around the area, chasing flies; you could not find a better day to enjoy the scenery and discuss nonsense.

      Then, suddenly, two other fellows we were acquainted with showed up. I hid the wine when I saw them coming towards us, but when they got close to us we starting a conversation. One of them took a whiff of us and asked what we were drinking. We smiled sheepishly and had to admit that we’d had a few drinks. Well, what about your friends, don’t we get a taste? Well, okay, said, take one draw but we have to save some for Harry, So they took a draw and they found it tasty and took another draw.

      Our bottle was not labeled. We tried to identify what kind of wine it was but gave up. It just tasted good. Then, when I checked the contents of the bottle, it seemed close to being empty. I suggested finishing it, saying I would tell Harry that I accidentally dropped it, we would get him another one.

      By then it was teatime at my uncle’s place and they expected us to attend the Sunday afternoon church service. We worried about the wine on our breath. We discussed whether we should go to church, or not, but we knew if we didn’t we’d be questioned. It would be better to go and just try to keep our faces turned away from our elders.

      I took my Uncle and Aunt in my truck to the church, while my cousins took their two sisters with them in their car. Fortunately it was still warm outside so I kept my window open and I kept my face away from them.

      Arriving at the church, John and I sat down a few benches ahead of his parents.

      We felt comfortable at first, but the wine was still working in our system, the alcohol was causing an

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