Chapter One: CATCHING THE PLANE

On Halloween, 1986, I took Bonnie to Mirabel airport for her KLM flight to India. Calculating backwards, since we had to pick up the ticket in Montreal on the way, we had to leave home by 1:00 p.m. at the latest to catch the 6:15 flight.

At 2:00 we left home. There is a time problem already. We whip along the blacktop towards the Montreal thruway at 125 kph. I see a car parked in the far distance and slow down - early enough so I don't register on the police radar. We are doing 80 by the time I come into range. Close call. It was the police. We get on the thruway and charge off to Montreal.

I take a shortcut to the travel agent's home in Verdun, near Montreal. He is waiting in front of his house: "Do you have room for me? - No, I can see you're full with suitcases. Park your car here, and let's go in my car. We'll be back in 30 minutes if there's no traffic jam."

As the rush hour begins, we get to the ticket office in downtown Montreal. While he runs in, I turn his car around on the busy street, just in time for him to jump into the driver's seat again. We get back to our car in 45 minutes instead of 30. We take off. The rush hour is upon us. Traffic creeps along.

At 5:20, I pull up to the terminal. There is usually a big line-up. We look in, and there's NO ONE IN LINE! THEY'RE ALL ON THE PLANE! We unload the four suitcases and Bonnie's carry-on bag. Michel, an Intern who is going with Bonnie is anxiously waiting, fingernails bitten off to the wrist. He loads the luggage onto a cart, and I park the car.

I return out of breath. Bonnie is in the middle of the floor repacking luggage. Some bags are too heavy. Books, baby diapers, children's' clothes, are all over the airport floor. Bonnie finishes. Michel and I both have to squeeze her carry-on bag in order to close the zipper.

We put the luggage through, and this time only one bag is overweight, but the attendant lets it go because they are already late. We load the carry-on bags onto the cart and I run with it to the gate. Michel runs, carrying his guitar, for which he had obtained clearance by calling in ahead of time. Bonnie walks. This is known as poise.

We wait at the gate while Bonnie goes to the washroom. Finally she emerges, gives me a hug and goes to security. "No, Ma'am," says the officer, "That carry-on bag is too big." So she comes back. I plead with her just to remove some stuff, leave it with me and go on through. No, it's a matter of principle. It's not her own stuff - she's carrying stuff for the orphanages. The ticket counter is deserted except for one attendant talking on the phone. Bonnie interrupts him: "They told me to get a special carry-on tag for this piece."

He says on the phone: "I think this is her now at the ticket counter." He hangs up and says to Bonnie, "The aircraft is waiting for you. Come quickly." As they round the corner and disappear through a different door, here comes Michel to tell me he needs a tag for his guitar. I tell him to run after Bonnie, but she already went through. He runs back to security and waits while the officer makes a phone call. Finally he goes through with his guitar.

Bonnie was the last one through the gate. When she boarded the big transfer bus to the plane, Michel was not on it. He was following by special car, lights flashing, to the plane. It's no wonder they decided to close Mirabel Airport permanently. - Fred Cappuccino

Chapter Two: WAITING FOR THE GREEN ARROW

Bonnie is very focussed. She doesn't like to waste a minute. So when she stops at a red light, she takes the opportunity to DO stuff, such as rooting down into her purse. She doesn't look at the light. I said to her, "Bonnie - you're supposed to watch for the green arrow!"

She looked at me and said, "Relax, Fred. There is always some kind gentleman who will let me know the light has changed by softly beeping his horn."

Chapter Three: KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!

As a high-schooler our son Michael was deeply into cars. One day he asked Bonnie to tow an old clunker from Dunvegan Village to our home about three miles away. Bonnie drove him to Dunvegan. He attached the tow rope to the two cars, got into the clunker and signalled Bonnie to go. She moved out very slowly and carefully, keeping her eyes on the road in front of her. (She tells the kids when they drive to "keep your eyes on the road!") When she got home, she stopped, and looked in the rear-view mirror for Michael. He was no where to be seen. So she followed the route back to Dunvegan, and found Michael and his old car sitting there. Michael was not amused. Bonnie's philosophy is, "Look forward and don't look back." The second towing attempt was more successful.

Chapter Four: SAVING LIVES

When Bonnie was age seven, her mother's younger sisters were like sisters to Bonnie, especially Aunt Delphia, who was only three years older than Bonnie. One day Aunt Ethel painstakingly gathered a herd of frogs on the family farm. These were for Ethel and her classmates to dissect in biology class. Bonnie and Delphia self-righteously released the frogs, thus saving twenty lives. Ethel was aghast! As she cried and tried to catch them again, Delphia and Bonnie didn't help her, and were "definitely not sorry." Bonnie doesn't remember that the adults took sides in this incident. But Ethel later forgave them, and invited Bonnie and Delphia to play major roles in her wedding.

In Bonnie's case it was memorable. Delphia was Maid of Honour. Bonnie was Junior Bridesmaid. It was a long Catholic wedding. (The groom was Roman Catholic). Standing through it all, Bonnie got weaker and weaker. The sanctuary seemed to be going around in circles. Finally Bonnie keeled over, felling a stand with a huge bouquet of flowers. Water spread all over. Ethel started to bawl. Uncle George rushed to Bonnie and sprinkled a little water on her that was left in the flower pot. After Bonnie finished her "show" the wedding resumed.

Chapter Five: REPORTERS' QUESTIONS

Our original intention when Bonnie and I married in 19 and 53 was to have two children born to us - for 'zero population growth' - and to adopt one or two more. By 19 and 59 Bonnie had acquired six children - in gross violation of our sacred conjugal agreement.

More often than not we had three babies in diapers. In Chicago at that time, during the dark days of Senator Joe McCarthy, the word "peace" was suspect as a communist word. Some pacifist groups planned a Peace March down Michigan Avenue on the day before Easter. I went to a training session where I was instructed in Gandhian non-violence, and I was proud to receive a blue arm band signifying that I was one of 2 dozen marshals to keep a kind of order, and to interpret the march to reporters.

That Saturday morning Bonnie was painting the kitchen yellow. At the last minute she decided she wanted to come to the peace march - "It will be good for the children," she said. Now at that time Bonnie had only two dresses, one for Sunday, and one for everyday, trying to follow the Gandhian ideal of simple living. (They were drip-dry. She washed them and they would dry by morning.) And likewise, she had only two pair of shoes. We were running late. She forgot to change her tennis shoes, which were splotched with yellow paint. We loaded our six kids and the collapsible buggy into the car and headed off.

At Michigan avenue, we uncollapsed the buggy and dropped the babies in: - 3-year-old Annie Laurie from Korea, - 2-year-old Pierre, with red hair, who was born to us, - and 1-year-old Michael, of yet a different racial mix. I was wearing the blue arm band, and had to go up and down the line, so Bonnie had three in the buggy, and walking ahead of her were three older kids, Robin Hood, age 5, who was born to us, and two kids from Japan, Machiko, age 9, and William Tell, age 10.

I was pre-occupied with the 8- or 900 marchers. I knew Gandhian philosophy, and was all ready for reporters' questions. But I didn't see a reporter all day long. The dumb reporters were all talking to this dame with yellow paint on her shoes and too many kids in a dilapidated buggy.

Chapter Six: PIPING HOT APPLE PIE

Fifty-five years ago, after some months of marriage, I hinted to Bonnie that I would really enjoy some of her glorious apple pie. She said, "Well, you found fault with the last pie I made, so I'm not making any more."

Naively, I countered, "Well, if you're going to be that way - I'll make my own." Bonnie smiled a malevolent smile - knowing me better than I know myself.

I got out the recipe book, the flour, the Crisco, the sugar, the apples, etc, etc. The aggregation covered the entire kitchen table and then some. After several hours of false starts and cleaning up various spills, I finally finished my masterpiece. I set it carefully into the oven - and waited by the oven door. Bonnie amusedly offered, "Well, don't just sit there waiting, Fred - it'll take a long time!"

She also said, "And do your waiting in the kitchen - I don't want flour tracked all over the house."

It was a long wait. Finally the timer rang. I burned myself twice trying to get the pie out of the oven. I got a knife. She said, "You can't cut it now - you have to wait til it cools!"

"How long will that take?"

"Oh, I don't know - a couple hours."

So I remembered my training in high school physics. ( I was very good in physics). With my superior knowledge about heat and cold, I told her I'd show her something she didn't know very much about. Water cools things fast. I got the big dish pan out, and put about three inches of water in it. I planned to touch the very bottom of the hot pie to the cold water. That should cool very quickly. I grabbed the pie with hot pads. What I forgot to remember was another law of physics, that when a body is immersed in water, the water rises. As the pie slowly descended, the cold water ascended, and flooded over the top of my lovely pie. Bonnie, with a total lack of empathy - hooted with laughter until she cried.

So I took the pie to the sink, tipped it to drain as much water off as I could, and sat down to enjoy a slice of my soggy pie. I had to keep a positive attitude (it wasn't quite what I had hoped for). As I took my second mouthful, I asked Bonnie, "Would you like some?" bringing her to a convulsion so intense that her side ached. My soggy pie lasted me about a week. I haven't tried pie-making since.

Chapter Seven: THE WHIPPED CREAM ATTACK