Thursday, June 27, 2019

Moonstone Jane




What miner’s art
Did meld and make,
Did stone on stone
Fling you on high,
Or lie beneath
The stars, awake
To think your shape
As nights sped by?

What weary hand
Did knead and tread
Your mud in some
Dead winter’s storm,
While autumn’s bride
Long kept her bed
To wait his will
Who gave you form.

And though they lie
Unknown at last,
Without foundation
Still you stand,
Your walls have stood
Six score of years
While they ran through
Their shift of sand!

And every furrow
At some brow
Did trace in mud
These barren lands,
Each humble cottage
Built in need
Was raised in pride
By miner’s hands!

~ 18 February 1983

By Miners Hands - Poem by David Lewis Paget

On the day someone passes from this world onto their final destination, you remember where you were at that moment.


When my father died at 41 from cancer, I was living at a friends house. Only 17 years old, I would come to feel the exit of a parent, from my life.
The day my daughter Shayla passed at the age of 21, I was in my home, when I felt a prompting to check my computer. It is there, while I was alone, that death would come to remind me of my own mortality. 

Recently, my Aunty Jane passed away from cancer. In her seventies, she had a lifetime of adventures, love, motherhood and losses. 

As a teenager, she had joined my Uncle Wally on a journey, which saw them live as miners. The lifestyle was never easy or glamorous; yet with over fifty years of marriage between them, Jane and Wally settled on the embracing the life most would not understand. 

Jane and Wally's hands of love
My memories of them included a world of survival, which I marvelled. I recall watching my aunt take a mason jar, put heavy whipping cream into it and shake it vigorously. My widened eyes never left her motions of back and forth until it thickened into a pale, yellow clump. I discovered science 101 of how the liquid abruptly separated from the butter. I also learned how people around 4,000 years ago prepared this ancient food. This knowledge, was only a small example of what I acquired, when I was in the presence of my aunt and uncle. 

Through them, I became introduced to the world of stones and the process of fluting. This operation involves the polishing of rock surfaces that are eroded by currents of air and water, where the powerful abrasion removes fine particles. I learned terms such as exploration and what crushing and grinding entailed.
My roots in rockhounding began here and were passed along to my daughter, along with other's influence. Shayla had a little metal hammer and hours were spent chiselling, every rock she could find. Her love of the ocean came from both her grandmother Dee, and I. Sea glass and shells were other treasures collected and cherished. 

A fond memory of a visit from Aunty Jane and Uncle Wally, was back when Shayla was a baby. Aunty had brought some gifts, including a beautiful blanket. Jane had a creative flair that saw over time, the intricate creations of weaving, needlework and also making owls from craft materials. These magical creatures appeared lifelike from afar; a person had a hard time distinguishing if they were real or not. 

Having a home in Wells, a small mining and tourist town in central British Columbia, gave my brother and me a chance to visit with our mother.
Only 10 minutes away, we were transported back within the historic town of Barkerville (named after William 'Billy' Barker). The main area was paramount in the Cariboo Gold Rush, in 1862.
Some of my favourite memories include rock candy, gold panning, and heritage buildings, preserved in time.

Another thread throughout our family tree, is the compassion my Aunty Jane had for those in need. She was known to cook for others, to give freely and also bonded with animals that included a fox, she use to feed by hand. Her favourite insect was the gentle ladybug, which connected to Jane's vibrant and colour life she led. 

Ladybug Earrings I bought

Her gifting heart was such a treasure; always putting herself last, Jane was a beautiful example of helping those she could. 
The day before she passed, I was in a local drugstore. When the cashier mentioned the Variety Children's Charity, I made a donation in Aunty Jane's name. The customer behind thanked me, as he proudly declared the boy on the Variety poster, was his grandson. 

  
Motherhood came late in life when her son Danny was born. The newest addition did not deter Wally or Jane, from pursuing their mining life.
There are those who could not fathom being immersed in the belly of nature's harsh environment, or appreciate what it took to survive in such conditions. 
Jane's love was an anchor in her marriage, as a mother and a miner. 

Shortly after I received news of my Aunty Jane passing; I sat on a pier at Florence Lake. Surrounded by my care package lovingly sent by my best friend, Sarah, her perfect timing brought comfort.

Florence Lake
In a corner of the marshland, a flock of sparrows erupted into single,
chirping notes that surprised me with their volume. 

When she passed, those of us from all parts of the earth, played upon her request, 'Moonlight Sonata.' 

Beethoven - Moonlight Sonata (1st Movement)


Video Link >>>>>>>


I imagined, mother nature's trumpets, vibrating in tune upon the glorious welcoming of Jane... with the words: "Well done, faithful one."


She was always something special
A diamond shining bright in the rain
 
Everybody dreams of angels ...

Now she's breakin' hearts in heaven
Shining bright in the sky
.
~ Mike Jagosz


By T.L. Alton