On The Road With Denny D

"Let us be silent, that we may hear the whispers of God" Ralph Waldo Emerson Sometimes wake up and immediately write about another strange dream I had. I have a spiral notebook tucked into a magazine rack next to the couch for just such an occasion.  I often wake up in the early hours of the morning. Instead of trying to fall back to sleep, I sit lotus style with a comforter wrapped around me. I breath in and out and invite the spirit to move me. I only invite those who God has appointed to me to be present. Good spirits are welcome.  I wait for words. It usually doesn't take long. Often the content comes from another place. I call this the Emerson effect.  I just listen and to write when the spirit speaks to me. In that moment, I am not the author, just the holder of the pen.  There is slso the funny side of life. And this can pop out nowhere. There is plenty of room on the page for that as well.  The kettle is whistling. I will be back.  Today the toc (te...

The first snow squall. Written or embellished by:  Dennis Deschamps  a song for  Family and friend Christmas 2025 On the first snow squall the town folks did say Watch how you’re driving stay out of my way The roads and streets were an icy sheet On a cold winters’ night of rain, snow and sleet Snow squall, snow squall, snow squall, snow squall A storm is coming it’s starting to fall They looked up and saw a car Stuck in the ditch he didn’t get too far And up the road at a green light Someone is texting stopping traffic in spite Snow squall, snow squall, snow squall, snow squall A warning is one thing But it didn’t turn out so well Snow squall, snow squall, snow squall, snow squall On the second snow squall it was the same as yesterday People still bitching, get out of my way The streets were littered with ice, snow and debris With abandon cars from a demolition derby Snow squall, snow squall, snow squall, snow squall A warning is one thing But it didn’t turn out so well

There's always a story to tell and people to tell it. Every story takes time to tell. There are generally two speeds to story telling: Fast and slow. An example of slow can be found in church. The priest reading the gospel decides to separate every sentence with the invention of new comas.  All good books including the bible are not published until it have been edited. Editing includes the proper punctuation. Sounds easy enough. Do you follow? And you could follow and read along with the priest but you'll never see those extra comas. Why? Because they are not there! Jesus didn't put it in, so why is this guy doing it! The priest was like Captain Kirk. The bridge is the pulpit. "And Jesus said, (pause)to his disciples (pause again)I will make (surprise, keep pausing)you fishers of men" Wow, he got up to four words. When the verbal waltz was over I heard two words. To be truthful, I heard two words and felt an elbow. The elbow was my mother and so were the words. W...

We bought a van and we did so for one reason: camping. Our first test would be at Jeremy's Bay Campground. Kejimkujik National park had many sites to choose from usually but because people were spending their hard earned money in Canada (boycotting America) we only had a few spots available. The van had stow n go seats so it gave us enough room for a couple roll out mattresses. Setting up camp was pretty simple a dinning tent a couple of chairs and a fire.  Luckily for us we were there a week before the fire ban. Things were great until it was time to sleep. There was a crying kid a few sites away who was always in trouble for something. His crying continued into the wee hours of the morning. I finally locked the doors and fell asleep. Then it was tinkle time. As I opened the door the ani-theft alarm started to blare and I couldn't turn the darn thing off. After a few minutes of frustration and yes, cussing, I got it to stop not before waking up the entire camp.   I try t...

It was my last medical visit to London. Like most doctors’ offices it was a wait and see moment. This time was different. I was escorted to the examination room, and I waited some more but after a short while, a beautiful blonde entered the doctor's office. I assumed she was a nurse. She just introduced herself and she took my BP. She walked out and I waited for the doctor to arrive. I was hoping she would not return. I knew the checking me out process that happened every three months was about to happen again. It was embarrassing enough just being with my doctor. Suddenly, the door opened and in though it came my doctor but he had someone with him: the same blonde.  He told me she was an intern. That she would over seeing the examination. She was over seeing all right, and I was not overly pleased.  I was glad she already took my BP because it would most assuredly be up now. I prayed I wouldn't have to go through embarrassment of baring all. I looked over at the table of doom...

I spent a week in a London Ontario Children's hospital. Victoria Memorial Children's hospital as it was known at the time. We finally were getting to the bottom of my stalled growth. I was the oldest kid on the floor. I was eighteen at the time. My predicament paled in comparison to the other kids on the floor. My room had four beds. Beside me was a boy dealing with leukemia and another who had to roll down the hallway like a crab, he had some kind of spin issue. I was just there to get tested. For what, we would have to wait and see. I spent the early hours of the day being carted off to various tests. In the early evenings I would spend my time helping the kids do crafts and after, I flirted with various nurses. There was one nurse I like the most. Unfortunately, she was a one floor down. What was I to do? I soon discovered a tube at the nurse’s station. I had seen it in action, and I was impressed. I had an a-ha moment. "If I sent a note down would my honey receive it...