Welcome to The Club v3.4 Fall 2023

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Welcome to ... THE Club We’re living life to the fullest (until about 9 pm). Welcome to ... FALL 2023 Kind, Patient, Efficient, Informative & Caring To Help You ‘SEE’ The World More Clearly Dr. Murari Patodia School Days, Golden Rule Days By Betty Popelier, Sarnia Are you experiencing HAIR LOSS? There are many moments in life upon which to reflect. Some of the most endearing to me were those spent attending public school during the 1950’s, a few precious memories still linger. Having a February birth date meant I was almost six years of age before attending kindergarten. The two block (yes, two block) walk was still scary to a little girl who had never ventured out of her backyard. Thankfully, my mom accompanied me that first fearful day. Dressed in my little plaid skirt, frilly blouse and Buster Brown shoes, I held on tight to her hand as she escorted me to the fringe of the schoolyard. I’m sure she had to forcefully untangle my fingers, and give a gentle nudge to coax me forward. Being her first born, I’m sure this was a difficult day for her as well. Central School, located midway on the east side of Greenfield Street in Petrolia, was a red brick building with two front entrances, one designated for boys and the other for the girls. The play areas were also segregated. We dutifully lined up at the beginning of each school day, according to age and grade, waiting impatiently for the bell to ring. The most terrifying sight that first day was “the strap”—long, stiff and leather, hanging ominously alongside our scarves and mittens. It was a constant reminder of the penalty paid if we chose to misbehave. Although never on the receiving end, over the years I bore witness to several students who were. And the memories linger on...... The Valentine Days spent waiting and silently praying while these cherished cards were being handed out. You hoped that a big pile would land on your desk. The baseball games—one of the few times boys and girls were allowed to play together. Oh the fear of being the last one called to join a team. Staging Sleeping Beauty, I was cast as one of the three good fairies, had one line which took me hours to memorize and only one minute to nervously recite. Singing “Down by the Old Mill Stream” at a Variety Day with my best friend Dee Dee. What a duo. The dreaded exam result days when papers were handed out according to grades. Everyone watching the teachers expression as the results were laid on their desk. “Field Days” involving all four Petrolia schools including Maude Street, Jubilee, and Queen Elizabeth II. This was an opportunity to swap stories and make new friends. Watching the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II on June 2, 1953, on a tiny, black and white television set with students from all the other schools. Waiting in terror as the first vaccines to be given in public schools were administered. What brave children we were. The pride of becoming a senior student and being assigned the task of looking after a little kindergarten girl during recess. I felt very grown up. The thrill of choosing a graduation dress. The pride upon receiving my grade eight diploma. The fear of leaving all that felt safe behind, but shaking with anticipation for the future ahead. Memories fade and I’m sure there are many more locked within this aged brain, but these are a few that have escaped and been caught, bringing a smile to my face, a tear to my eyes and a little more spring to my step. We specialize in non-surgical hair replacement solutions for any medical conditions or chemotherapy. For 60 years we have helped women find the perfect and most natural hair loss solution. Visit www.ContinentalHair.com 565 Murphy Road, Unit 4 Sarnia • 519-337-3699 Free & Private Consultations P A G E 20 Superstitions... It is bad luck to cut your fingernails on Friday or Sunday.
You’re welcome to send in articles to help build this magazine. Welcome to ... THE Club “Big or Small, JohnnyRemax Sells T hem All” John A. McCharles, Broker Re/Max Sarnia Realty Inc. Brokerage 519-383-4812 johnnyremax@bellnet.ca Good Dog WORD SEARCH Every Wednesday is Senior's Day. SAVE 15% Every First Friday of the Month SAVE 20% Find these words hidden vertically, horizontally, diagonally and backwards. Cameron Paint and Wallpaper 418 East St North, Sarnia • 519-332-8081 Cameron Paint Inc 1107 Lambton Mall Rd, Sarnia • 519-491-9994 www.cameronpaint.ca The Dogs of our Lives The first dog we ever had was Blackie. He was a young, medium-sized Labrador retriever. He was an outside dog that we got soon after moving into our new house my dad had built. I was 5 or 6 at the time and had no idea where we got him from (not my dad, the dog!). We lived on the edge of a square mile bush in old Sandwich West before it became part of Windsor. We would take Blackie out on runs in the fields. He was a good, happy and gentle dog. Unfortunately one rainy day he got loose from the chain on his doghouse and met an ignoble end a few streets over, by a garbage truck. I cried and cried of course. Almost immediately my oldest brother, under instructions from my parents, brought home another dog, a small puppy. Something was wrong with it though and they took it back. We never even had a chance to name it. Then one day I went outside to play and there was Mickey. He was a beautiful puppy, a cross between a German Shepherd and some smaller breed with ears that were down, not up. He was an outside dog too and lived his whole life in his doghouse. My parents didn’t believe in a dog living in the house with them, but it never hurt Mickey. We padded and insulated his house continually and put endless pieces of carpet over the door. Only in the dead of winter when it went down around zero would my dad allow us to bring him down in the basement. That was always exciting to me, knowing he was down there. All of us visited him. It must have been exciting for Mickey too, as he always left a present on the basement floor. In a family of five boys Mickey seemed like just another brother or kid to me, though admittedly he was all furry and ran on four legs. Whenever I was hurt and crying over some enormous wrong and I just had to tell somebody about it, I would crawl inside of his doghouse and tell him all my problems. He always listened too, didn’t give me heck or laugh at me. I thought his house was pretty neat inside. I told him I wouldn’t mind living in it. It was by Kenneth Lapointe, Windsor from Daytripping, May-June 2005 dry and sheltered from the wind and rain. It had a nice floor, sides, a roof and a door, all mostly draftproof. It had his own smell too. We fed him table scraps. Scraps of toast, meat, oatmeal porridge, gravy, bones, anything and everything left over from breakfast, lunch, and supper all went in his dog dish. He thrived on it. I don’t think we ever needed to buy dog food. We constantly took him on runs out in the fields and bush, just like Blackie. Rarely was he on a leash. Usually he just went where we went, whether we were playing hockey on the ice in the fields or on an expedition out to First or Second Creek. Our area was full of pheasants back then and you would see his head bounding up and down above the weeds while he was running and jumping after them. He also got sprayed by skunks more than once. Whether he just didn’t learn his lesson or just accidentally ran into them I never knew. But even with the tomato juice baths, the smell hung around for two weeks. Daily he’d roll around in the dirt like a man possessed. To us kids he was our protector. You knew he would defend you against anybody, whether mean kids or mean dogs. Once when another kid was chasing me around the outside of our house and I was pretending to yell like I was scared, Mickey came out of nowhere and was all over that kid. He didn’t hurt him, but it’s a warm feeling to know somebody will protect you. When I was in grade school, I had my own bodyguard. You see, I had done grade three and four in one year, so after that I was about the smallest kid in every grade. One kid who knew kid-style judo, in exchange for teaching him chords on the guitar, would beat up anybody who picked on me. We were great friends and it was a great arrangement! Then Mickey got old, just like an old man. He got gray around his muzzle, put on a bit of weight, wouldn’t run as far and would occasionally grunt from his stiffening limbs. He even started having little fits where he would go rigid and foam at the mouth for five minutes or so. We thought it was heartworm. He eventually had a stroke and died right in front of our house but he had lived a long life of fifteen years full of kids, good food, adventure and happiness. What more could a dog want? FALL 2023 Superstitions... A fish should always be eaten from the head toward the tail. P A G E 21
Page 1 and 2: Welcome to ... THE A GUIDE TO BEING
Page 3 and 4: This FREE magazine is distributed i
Page 5 and 6: We’re all getting older, we may a
Page 7 and 8: Most articles in here have been wri
Page 9 and 10: Life is short. Smile while you stil
Page 11 and 12: Maybe we should stop it with the el
Page 13 and 14: As you may have guessed by now, it
Page 15 and 16: Putting the “old” back in “Da
Page 17 and 18: It’s the advertising that makes t
Page 19: Many of the articles are from the a
Page 23 and 24: A new magazine for people who aren
Page 25 and 26: Contact us any time. 519-491-1676 o
Page 27 and 28: Our next issue will come out around
Page 29 and 30: If your business caters to people 4
Page 31 and 32: Please tell our advertisers that yo
Page 33 and 34: Sometimes, no news really is good n
Page 35 and 36: You’re not getting older, you’r
Page 37 and 38: Let’s grow old together. You go f
Page 39 and 40: Retirement To-Do List: 1) Wake Up..

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