February 15th , 2023 The Atlin Whisper

“Never doubt that a small group of committed citizens can change the world.”

Margaret Mead

DADS AND PIANOS, MOTHERS AND BOOKS

by Paul Lucas

Skagway,1980’s. I tottered down from my room in the brothel. Just another morning at the Red Onion Saloon. The joyous sound of stride piano greeted me at the bottom of the stairs. The bar was full and my pal, John Wilson, was already on the gig. He waved as he saw me wending my way through the crowd, coffee in hand.

John was an actor and piano player for the ‘Days of 98’ show just up the street. He also had the early shift at the R.O., playing ragtime and swing in that infectious stride style that lit up the room. My gig, running the Jazz jams in the afternoon, pretty well followed on the heels of John’s noonish appearance.

Both of us were also founding members of the Sisyphus Blues Band, a questionable group of individuals that included our friend Jerry Watson, trail boss on the Chilkoot trail by day and blues harmonica player by night.

I sat down at a vacant table right near the window, a few feet from the piano. I grabbed a coaster, dropped my cup on it, and sat down. The coffee immediately slopped over the side. It happened every time. The floor in the Red Onion might as well have come out of a pirate ship. Every table in the joint wobbled. I’m pretty sure half the drink napkins in Skagway went to shoring up the table legs in the Red Onion Saloon. Despite knowing all this, I still managed to spill my coffee every morning without fail. I guess consistency counts for something.

Sitting there looking out the window, drinking my coffee with that piano wailing away in the background felt as natural to me as breathing.

My childhood house rang. It always rang. I can’t remember a time when it didn’t. I heard that piano in the womb. It was an energetic, joyful, ‘all is well with the world’ sound. It reached every nook and cranny of the place, and permeated every fiber of its inhabitants.

My father had a built-in joy that was infectious. More than infectious, it was life-saving. If you are going to be an adventurer, you’d better have a positive attitude. That attitude infused everything he did, but it was best represented in his piano playing.

When he wasn’t on the job (he was a printer at the Vancouver Sun) or hard at work around the house, he was at the piano. And while he had a modest classical repertoire, his passion was stride - the style associated with Fats Waller featuring the left hand from hell. And he swung.

When I was a little kid, I remember sitting on his lap as he played - my tiny hands glued to the top of these meathooks, my skinny little arms flapping out and back, out and back, as he whipped through ‘Whispering’ or some such tune.

He worked evening shift, so he played mostly in the afternoon. Every day, when I walked home from school, (across the field, around the backstop, right at the lane, then down the back yard to the door), I would listen to see how close I could get to the house before hearing the piano. It was like a beacon to a lost pilot coming home on a wing and a prayer.

For 18 years, those tunes rattled around in my head like peas in a rain barrel. Being steeped in this music had a lot of advantages. When I started playing Jazz, I found I already knew most of the tunes. All I had to do was ‘remember’ the chord changes. This worked out well with the older swing and Dixieland players. I’m sure those guys didn’t think I had any business knowing all this music but, more often than not, they grinned from ear to ear, and they called me back.

My Mother was musical, and she sang, but mostly she wrote ... everything from prose to lyrics. She was the literary one, and the teacher. She loved knowledge, and she thought it would be a good idea if her kids loved knowledge too, so her games always included spelling, grammar, snatches of poetry and the like. And she made it fun. By the time I was five I knew the capitals of every country in Europe. I still do ... well ... with the possible exception Albania and Lithuania which, for some reason, remain hazy.

So much of life - from values, to habits, to opinions - is based on information digested as children. Along with my two sisters, Gillian and Joy, I grew up with a mother and father who loved us unconditionally and instilled in us the love of music and language. We were very, very lucky.

John Wilson broke into ‘Green Dolphin Street’ just as the front door to the Red Onion swung open. An entire horn section from the Pacific Princess walked in: trumpet, tenor saxophone and trombone. They travel like wolves, these guys - in packs. The trombone player looked around, nodded his head, and yelled, “Yep, this is it!”

And so began another raucous ‘Jazz at the Red Onion,’ jam. This was a three ship day, and it was gonna be a big one.

The Historic Globe Theatre

Atlin Cabaret LIVE AT THE GLOBE THEATRE

Friday March 3, 2023

To kick off the Atlin Frosty Frolic events, we are having another Atlin Cabaret and you are invited.

Whether you are a performer of music, poetry, dance, comedy or you name it. Perhaps you enjoy the comforts of being a supportive audience member we have a great evening of talent planned for you.

On Yukon Time

Doors Open 7:30 Starts 8:00

Enter By Donation

Performer sign up https://www.eventbrite.ca/e/543305921637

Email exploreatlinsales@gmail.com

Coffee/Tea Service Available by Donation

We are respectfully asking that everyone who attends comes in good health, and is not required to be in quarantine

Facebook: @ExploreAtlin Email exploreatlinsales@gmail.com

Atlin Movie Club

WHEN:Sundays

DOORS: Open 6:30, Starts 7:00PM

TIME: Yukon Time

DROP IN: Everyone Welcome ☺

COST: Enter by donation

Concession fixed prices

Sunday February 19, 2023 – Sorry No Movie

Sunday February 26, 2023

La Grande Séduction - Subtitles

Doors Open 6:30 Runs 7:00 – 9:00

Starring: Raymond Bouchard, David Boutin, Benoît, Pierre Collin, Rita, LaFontaine

Directed by: Jean-François Pouliot

Quebec Comedy: In the little harbour village of Sainte-Marie-La-Mauderne, the vanishing fish stocks have plummeted a once thriving community into decline, forcing the fishermen to rely on government welfare. When a small company considers building a factory on the island, the inhabitants see an opportunity for the village to be restored to greatness. But the factory cannot be built without a resident doctor.

Sun March 5, 2:00-4:00 at the Atlin Christian Centre.

Bring your favorite recipe and/or word of wisdom.

For gift ideas go to myregistry.com search names: Emmalea Lubben or Matthew Ford.

Contact Laura at 651-7816

The History of 'APRONS'

I don't think most kids today know what an apron is. The principal use of Mom's or Grandma's apron was to protect the dress underneath because she only had a few. It was also because it was easier to wash aprons than dresses and aprons used less material. But along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven.

It was wonderful for drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears. From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes halfhatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven. When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids..

And when the weather was cold, she wrapped it around her arms.

Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove. Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron. From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls.

In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.

When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds.

When dinner was ready, she walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men folk knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.

It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that 'old-time apron' that served so many purposes.

Mom's and Grandma's used to set hot baked apple pies on the window sill to cool. Her granddaughters set theirs on the window sill to thaw.

They would go crazy now trying to figure out how many germs were on that apron.

But, I don't think I ever caught anything from an apron - but love

Author - Unknown