The Centennial Swimming Pool in downtown Halifax is a beautiful building that features a bold use of Optima.

It’s a typeface that’s generally too precious for my taste, but carved in stone here, it works well, especially the combination of upper and lower case.

I’m catching the train from Sackville to Halifax for a quick 24 hour jaunt into the city for a bunch of errands. I could drive, but I am no fan of the lonely highway, and trains that nobody takes don’t keep running. So here I am.

You can’t park overnight at the Sackville VIA station, so I called the Town Hall for advice and they connected me with Rod Allen, a car dealer up the street, who generously allowed me to park there.

I arrived at the station 30 minutes early, but the time passed quickly as shortly after I arrived a woman, also early, showed up to pick up someone arriving on the train from Quebec. She turned out to be the longtime cook from Cape Jourmain, and we had a good chat.

The train arrives, the VIA app claims, in just a moment; I’ll be in Halifax for supper.

We have been promiscuous in our appliances purchases over the last 20 years on Prince Edward Island, having purchased from a variety of sources, and never being completely satisfied. And so I dreaded the prospect of going back into the marketplace to replace our washing machine when it conked out for good on the weekend.

We bought the machines 7 years ago, a GE front-loading model, from MacArthur’s Appliances, a washer that itself replaced a dead one we’d purchased from Sears when we moved into the house in 2000 (whatever happened to washing machines that last 20 years?).

Last month the washer started making a horrible racket while the drum was spinning; Catherine called MacArthur’s and then sent a repair person. The diagnosis: the washer needed a new part, which would cost $1000, plus 3 hours labour to install.

As it didn’t make sense to sink $1000 into a 7 year old washer (despite the ecological concerns I have about junking it), we crossed our fingers and hoped, against logic, that we could continue to use the washer, putting up with the racket.

Of course we were wrong. And this weekend it finally died for good. And, with laundry in danger of overwhelming us if I didn’t act quickly, I set out yesterday morning to find a replacement washer.

I started the day at MacArthur’s: I thought it only just to allow them to atone for selling us a dud. Their friendly sales person acknowledged the issue, telling me that “GE had problems in the early days of its front loaders,” but was otherwise without contrition, and, beyond assuring me that GE had learned from its sins, offered no recompense or apology. I couldn’t conscience purchasing another GE washer from them – GE is the only brand they sell – especially given that they didn’t seem particularly interested in keeping our business.

So, MacArthur’s out.

Next stop was Leon’s. We bought a sofa from them a few months back and it was a thorough professional experience, and I held out high hopes.

Leon’s had a good selection of washers from several different brands, and two Samsung models were on sale and in our price range. The sales person and I got into the weeds trying to figure out the difference between the two models, but once that was resolved, I was close to considering purchasing one.

But then I asked about delivery and carting away of our old model: they were happy to offer delivery, but didn’t offer to remove our old washer (the explanation, oddly, involved bed bugs). Which would have left us in the position of having to pay someone else to come and remove the old washer and take it to be recycled. Why would I want to do that? 

So, Leon’s out.

Reasoning that I should be more prepared at this point and, truth be told, unwilling to subject myself to the retail sales experience for a third time, I paid the $6.95 monthly fee for access to Consumer Reports’s washing machine ratings and identified a particular model that was well-rated and in our price range, the LG WM3170CW.

This made the next steps simpler because I simply had to find a local dealer with one in stock that offered a good price, and both delivery and haul away.

I started with Sears. I would have preferred to email the local store, but they don’t publish email addresses for stores, so I resorted to calling. I followed through the telephone tree to the major appliances department and then waited for them to answer the phone. And waited. And waited. No answer. I called back. Same result. I called back and selected the option to talk to the main Sears call centre, explained my plight, and they offered to find someone for me; a few moments later someone from the Charlottetown store came on the line.

Sears does sell the model I was looking for. The price was right: $899. And they offered both pickup and haul away. 

But they couldn’t deliver until April 21, they charge $75 for delivery and $25 to haul the old washer away. 

So, Sears out.

The LG washer was also available from Best Buy, but they wanted $95 for delivery, would only tell me the delivery date after I purchased, and their haul away process was opaque.

So, Best Buy out.

At this point I was getting exhausted.

I turned to Twitter, and several people helpfully reminded me of M&M Furniture on the St. Peters Road.

M&M publishes their email address right on the front page of their website, so I sent an email:

Hello there,

Can you tell me if you sell the LG WM3170CW washing machine.

If so, can you tell me:

1. Your price (it’s on sale at Sears for $894.91).

2. If you have one in stock (and, if not, how long it would take one to bring in).

3. What your delivery charge to 100 Prince Street, Charlottetown would be (single family home, washer on second floor)

4. What your charge for removal of our old washing machine would be.

Thanks,
Peter

Just 15 minutes later came a helpful reply:

We do have it in stock. Our price is $849 and we deliver, set up and take the old away at no extra charge. We could deliver it as soon as tomorrow or Wed.

Frank Macdonald
M&M Furniture

After a frustrating morning, that was all I needed to hear. I replied:

Thanks for your quick reply. I’ll be out this afternoon to take a look, and likely to purchase.

And, an hour later, I was walking into M&M looking for Frank.

I didn’t find Frank, at least not right away. But I did find Frank’s father. And Frank’s father walked me over to the LG WM3170CW, extolled its virtues – he said everyone in the shop had one at home – and then showed me several important things about how to properly maintain it.

Sold.

Frank’s father walked me over to Frank. Who made out the bill. I paid, and 5 minutes later I was on my way, satisfied and feeling good about the world.

For those of you who are not M&M Furniture that want to win our business in the future (a tall order: we’ll be heading back to M&M to replace our dishwasher shortly, and don’t see a reason to go elsewhere), here’s a handy guide about what you need to do:

1. Answer your phone.
2. Publish your email in an easy-to-find place. And reply quickly.
3. Be competitive on price.
4. Offer free delivery and free haul away.
5. Have products in inventory, not in a distant warehouse.
6. Be human.

You’d think those would be entry-level baseline propositions for getting into the appliance business, but apparently they are not.

Thanks to Frank, and to Frank’s father, for, in the end, making it easy.

I’ve been sitting on the Publications Committee of Island Studies Press for the last six months, and in that capacity I had occasion to read an early version of the manuscript for John Cousins’s book on the New London, Prince Edward Island. It’s a compelling read: not a community history, at least in the traditional sense, as the New London about which John writes isn’t the New London we know and love today, but rather an earlier incarnation of the village, with a grander vision:

New London was unique in the history of Island settlements. It was begun not as a community of scattered farms but as a compact industrial village stretched along “Leadenhall Street,” the road leading to the harbour mouth. The villagers for the most part were woodsmen, mill workers, and artisans: shoemakers, blacksmiths, coopers and woodworkers like the famous Benjamin Chappell. There was even a village doctor: Dr. Cullshaw. The plan of Robert Clark, the London Quaker who owned Lot 21, was to exploit the sea and the forest of his Island properties and export fish and lumber to the Caribbean. In return, products from the Caribbean – rum and sugar, for instance – would be carried back to the Island.

The book will be published later this year, but in the meantime you can hear a sneak peek from John himself on April 19, 2016 at the final of the Island Studies Lecture Series of the year. John’s lecture, New London: The Island’s Lost Dream, starts at 7:00 p.m. in the Faculty Lounge in Main Building.

If you have but a scintilla of interest in Island history you should attend: John is a wise, entertaining speaker and the tale he will weave is fascinating.

Screen capture from the video Telling Island Stories
Robertson Library, University of Prince Edward Island

Here’s how wrong numbers go down on Prince Edward Island:

Caller: “Oh, shoot, I dialed the wrong number; sorry about that.”

Me: “No problem. Have a good day.”

Caller: “You too; take care.”

We are a gentle, polite lot.

The front page of the April 12, 1915 edition of The Guardian contained, in addition to news of the war, a breakdown of Prince Edward Island’s provincial spending and revenue for the previous year:

The same information is available for last year, 100 years later, on the Public Accounts website, which includes this summary:

In 1915 the province took in $477,841 and spent $574,964.

In dollars adjusted for inflation, that’s revenue of $9,823,157 and spending of $11,819,751.

In 2015 the province took in $1,725,913,000 and spent $1,747,187,000.

That means 2015 revenue was, in adjusted dollars, 175 times greater than in 1915, and spending was 147 times greater.

In the 1911 census, the population of PEI was 93,728 and in the 2011 census is was 140,204, an increase of only 50%.

In a way that would be anathema to more sedate dogs-off-the-furniture families, Ethan has the run of the couches and chairs in our house – how else could he cozy up to Oliver, after all. Sometimes he takes his dominion over the human world very liberally; witness the position I found him in this morning after breakfast:

Here’s a photo of delegates at our PEI Home and School Federation Annual Meeting yesterday engaged in what we called “Success Story Speed Dating.”

The idea was that rather than focusing on “I wish they would do X” discussion, we would instead focus on “we did Y and it really worked well discussion: sharing stories of successful initiatives of local home and school associations that could be cross-pollinated to others.

We pre-selected 10 topics and our members picked 5 each, spending 10 minutes on each “round” until they stood up and moved on to the next one. The topics were:

1. Increasing Transportation Safety
2. Breakfast and Lunch Programs
3. Influencing Education Policy
4. Building Better Playgrounds
5. Parent Leadership Grants
6. Making our Schools Greener
7. Fundraising
8. Building Engagement in Home and School
9. Engaging Volunteers
10. Working with Our Principal

This was going to be something that either worked well or flopped colossally, and signs are that it was the former, which was great. We’re going to summarize up the success stories shared and distribute them back to our members to use in their plans for this spring and forward.

I sat in on the “Building Better Playgrounds” session and it was fantastic: lots of talk about using natural areas around the school, about adventure playgrounds, about risk vs. reward.

One of the duties of the President of PEI Home and School Federation is penning a monthly columns for The Guardian newspaper; as I hand over the position to someone new this Saturday at the Federation’s Annual General Meeting, this week’s column was my last, and my editor at the paper crafted a lovely headline to go with it – “Be part of the superpower” – that neatly sums up why I’m so passionate about Home & School as a vehicle for change.

The headline extends from this paragraph:

What is unique about this meeting is the breadth of the participation: a table at the meeting might include the Minister of Education, a local union president, a teacher, a principal, and several parents and guardians. The superpower that this affords Prince Edward Island is estimable: what might take years to develop consensus around in larger jurisdictions can happen in a morning here in Prince Edward Island. It’s a superpower that Home & School members are rightly proud of. Next month’s column will summarize the results of these discussions.

And I genuinely believe that.

Although I cede the presidency to someone new on Saturday, I’ll continue to be involved in home & school: Oliver, after all, has three more years of public education left, and I continue to sit on the Federation’s executive as Past-President for another two years. 

Twenty-year-old-Peter would never believe that fifty-year-old-Peter would feel so warmly about such activities, but I do.  Weird.

I turn 50 today (see also turning 48, 47, 45, 43, 42, 41, 40, 39, 38, and 36; before age 36, apparently, I was young enough not to notice my age).

The day started with [[Oliver]] secretly passing a note to his vice-principal at school when I dropped him off asking her to make an announcement about my birthday, which she kindly did.

The day continued with PEI Home and School Federation-related duties at the PEI Science Fair, where I selected and then awarded special prizes. This was great fun, both because I got to have many interesting conversations with young scientists about their projects, and because, being special prizes, our awards fall outside of the normal structure of the fair, and thus, as long as they recognize projects that “focus on the total well-being of children, including health, safety and learning,” are completely left to the discretion of the judge. Such freedom! I’ll never be able to go back to regular prize judging, with its onerous rubrics and forms.

As is usually the case, I’m at my least pensive on my birthday, so I’ve no wise words for my future self. Actually, scratch that: future self, remember to look up from time to time, take stock of things, turn down a different path, try on a different hat, say hello to someone unexpected. Please report back.

Photo by Paul Kalupnieks, Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic license.