Short Stories

Arthur Adventures     1701words               Revised March 2014  Original ~2007

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Some of the most memorable non-memorable occasions I’ve spent are with Arthur. Three events that especially stand out are a Remembrance Day, a Halloween and an annual tulip trip to La Connor, Washington.

 

Arthur was a long retired chef and camp cook. Well into his 70’s when I met him through mutual friends, Arthur was as Dutch as Dutch could be. The language was a throat disease not a language he joked, tapping the dash as was his habit for emphasis. Arthur had a very bad back, literally bending him in half. He could straighten but the norm was 90º. I never did know exactly what the condition was, but he worked very hard at maintaining his range of motion and could stand straight with effort. After having to surrender his drivers license, he faithfully rode his bike and swam at the local pool like clockwork and I’d see him all over town. In later years he would trade his bicycle in for a walker, a large walker to fit his tall frame, even though he bent in the middle to right angles. 

 

Arthur loved the VSO and the opera. He always bought seasons tickets to both. The performances took place in downtown venues some 100 km away and getting there was always part of the event for Arthur. He had collected a long roster of names over the years, and would always be lining up his rides weeks in advance. Each driver was expected to drive, pay for a modest dinner at one of several regular resturants, and take care of the parking fees. In turn, Arthur supplied the concert ticket, two if need be. Which were beautiful seats. In all, it was a most fair, if not generous arrangement.

 

He called one rainy night to line up a ride for a Remembrance Day concert. A concert at the Orpheum with the Dal Richards Orchestra he said. Arthur would be a good person to spend Remembrance Day with I thought. I knew a little of his story which dribbled out over the years. He had an affection for the Canadian military. So when I got the invitation, I immediately said yes. 

 

Arthur had been a prisoner of war. The Germans occupied Holland and he was taken to a German slave camp. He was 18 years old. His brother also was a taken prisoner, although to a different camp. Arthur worked outside in hard slave labour, severely underfed, and undernourished for 3 years. I never knew what happened to the rest of Arthurs family, and could only shudder to think. Eventually, the Americans set all the prisioners free, including Arthur and his brother. But not before they had been reduced as human beings where it took over a year to recondition them back to mainstream life.  Arthur went on to immigrate to Canada, marry, have children and lead a long healthy productive life. He remarried at 78 – to a woman 27 years his junior and died at age 90.

 

So in a nutshell, if anyone had anything to be bitter about, particularily around war, Arthur was surely was one. But it was not the case. He had a heart of gold and much love for many. He had a special soft spot for the Canadian military who liberated Holland. He continued to be interested and involved in politics right up to the end of his life. He made many friends in that arena, as well as his cultured friends, his local church community, staff at the various concert halls and the local merchants. Arthur was known and loved by all.

 

I respected Arthur’s attitude towards war, which he deeply understood having lived it first hand. I knew spending Remembrance Day with him would be memorable for me. Plus I really liked the Dal Richards Orchestra, who were hosting it at Vancouver’s jewel, The Orpheum Theatre. It was stacking up to be a beautiful afternoon. 

 

We went for dinner as usual and took our usual seats at the theatre. Dal and the boys were already behind their individual podiums that had the script D on the front. Wearing their matching suits and ties looking their best as always, they quietly warmed up. A stray G note , or F chord would occasionally vibrate out. 

With the house loaded, the lights dimmed, Dal welcomed everyone. The audience was a terrific mix from grey and very grey, to middle aged, youth and children, with no real majority in one category, which surprised me. 

 

The band started out with some popular old-time wartime songs, unfamiliar to many, including myself, but embedded in others, like Arthur. I glanced over and he was bobbing his head, singing along, knowing all the words so very well. 

 

As the show went on, it turned out to be a beautifully arranged variety type show with maybe six vinquettes. Each one presented uniquely different from the other and was a brilliant array of entertainment. Tasteful and not too sensationalized. Dal himself, I’m sure, experienced war first hand so knew the songs, their meanings, and played them in context.  It was a standing joke with Arthur: their ages - Dal was older by five years. But who’s counting after 85!

 

One vinquette especially stands out. The stage set like a soda pop shop where servicemen in town came for soda. The pretty young waitresses and service men broke out into four couples dancing – exactly the same steps to exactly the same music they would’ve danced to in the 1940’s. Dressed so accurately for the part, girls in their sweaters with hair coiffured in great swirls and dramatic parts; men in their proud uniforms and collapsible caps on an angle. For me not being of age to have experienced this, it was a wonderful opportunity to see how some of the brighter spots of wartime might’ve played out. 

 

I’d glance over at Arthur and he would be wiping a tear, or tapping a toe. He literally had gone back 60 years in his mind. The intros by Dal were so well articulated, he placed the scenes so well. At one point we stood to sing the national anthem, and at a another point, a solitary bugle rang out a lovely version of Taps. The afternoon flowed seamlessly. Even the children were mesmerized and captivated. 

 

The show was a very full two hours and very entertaining. I was glad I got the call for this concert. This show ended with a ballad as a tribute to all the service men and women, past and present, gone but not forgotten, and one couldn’t help but be touched. The lights came on and no one stirred.

 

After a few moments, I asked Arthur if he was ready and we gathered our belongings. All the way home you could hear a pin drop, we were lost in our own thoughts. It was truly an honor to have spent Remembrance Day with someone like Arthur who could have so much to be bitter about but had so much gratitude instead. 

 

To me, those are real heroes of war.

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Another Arthur highlight was one Halloween. At the Orpheum. “Kind of an oxymoron don’t you think”, I mused out loud. But after hearing the concert synopsis I jumped at the invite. The idea of the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra performing the score to the original 1925 B&W silent film Phantom of the Opera at the Orpheum had me fascinated. 

 

The Orpheum itself was a very ornate Spanish Baroque style theater built in 1927. Complete with the BC wall of fame on the third floor featuring an 8x10 glossy of every big BC entertainer; the lovely floor-to-ceiling picture of our own Diane Krall on the 1st floor, and the plush red carpets with sweeping staircases pulling it all together. Ah yes, The Orpheum. 

 

In addition to the film, the theatre itself hosted a Hallowe’en costume contest. Of course being a first class venue, all of the costumes were rented and professional. No Value Village throw togethers here. At intermission it was spectacular to see Batman, an astronaut, and a pack of leprachauns lining up for a glass of wine. Or a cat adjust her whiskers and tail in the ladies restroom. After intermission we settled back in our seats, and the top 10 costumes were asked on stage where audience applause chose the top three prize categories. The Egyptian Pharaoh won the trip to Mexico. It was a delightful dazzling show to watch and participate in. And that was just the side kick.

 

The 1925 version of The Phantom of the Opera silently crackled by in black and white frames portraying great ingenuity with the costume and set designs. The text frames were right out of the Dick Dasterdly damsel-in-distress flicks complete with curly borders. I had never seen The Phantom and found myself completely absorbed by the story, and the scenes were remarkable for something done some 80 years previously. The two projection screens were modest in size, nothing compared to the mammoth overkill of today, but there wasn’t a bad seat in the house. 

 

The VSO accompanied each scene to a tee, they didn’t miss a beat. They captured every nuance, every innuendo. The conductor led 58 instruments through the gushing waters of the city’s underworld to the hidden hollows of an elite concert hall. They knew just when to danté and when to thrust full steam ahead with dramatic horns or frenzied percussions. It simply was beautiful.

 

When the film ended and the suspense vanished with the Phantom being taken away in the back of a 1925 cruiser, even the house lights inching up to full tilt couldn’t break the spell.

 

A 5-star Halloween if there is such a thing.