I caught up with Laura for lunch and we went to the University cafeteria. It was interesting to see all those seniors citizens mingling with all the college kids. Everywhere we went we were accepted as one of the bunch. Everybody said “Hi” or some other greeting. After lunch I found myself studying Septic systems (Oh well, it had to be done sometime). The course was good, covering maintenance chemicals required and those nagging little problems that can go wrong, usually in the middle of the night when you’re “under pressure”. I had thought that 90 minutes was a long time, and so far there had been no breaks in the class but the time was gone before I knew it. With a few exceptions, most of the classes ran non-stop. Usually it was an hour of instructions and then a 30 minute question and answer period. Having been laid back for a year and out of school for more years then I am willing to admit, I was feeling the drag as I approached the class room for my forth and final class for the day. In “propane part 1” I sat in the back fully prepared for a quick nap if necessary. It was here that I first met the talented and knowledgeable Al Cohoe, an instructor at Okanagan University Collage in Kelowma British Columbia. Here was an accomplished teacher, light hearted, energetic with an eye on the class for any question that might be coming his way. His quaint Canadian accent soon became the talk of the ladies. Before the weeks’ end I would take every course he offered. From him I would learn the ins and outs of refrigerators, stoves, air conditioners, and hot water heaters. Without question every instructor here knew his stuff and taught it well, but as in college, some instructors just clicked, and Al Cohoe was one of them.

With the first day’s classes out of the way, we sauntered back to the trailer and flopped. With the refreshment of a cold ice tea and a few minutes R&R it was time to head out again.  Down on the south side of the campus in one of the many open fields with some stone benches, the organization had prepared a salmon dinner. It was part of the package. The salmon had been flown in from Alaska that day, filleted and arranged on sticks in the manner still used by Eskimos. Several fires blazed surrounded by a circle of salmon on stakes, which was periodically pulled back to have a sugar cured salt sauce applied. The salmon along with the rest of the fixins, and followed up with pink lemonade, made for a perfect dinner. We were cautioned to keep our cups, and after dinner formed a second line that passed by many 5 gallon containers of ice cream that was scooped into our cups as we passed.