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Vol. X, No. 8 February 21, 2004 IN THIS ISSUE:
 Margaret Manning, believe it or not, occasionally suffers from WRITER'S BLOCK I just sat and looked at that heading for a good five minutes so perhaps I've got it. I found out about Tale Spinner from a long-time pal. She's been a really good mate of mine since the late 1960s, yet we've never met. She lives in Massachusetts, and I am in N.Z. I'm not sure now whether we first made contact through a Tape Club or through an American craft magazine that I wrote to for some reason or other. What on earth was the reason? Um, not only writer's block but a bit of memory block as well. Anyway, we were both into making voice tapes to people around the world and maintained contact that way on a regular basis until fairly recently. It's so much easier to e-mail than to sit down with a tape recorder and talk into a microphone for an hour. When we first started exchanging tapes we used large reel-to-reel recorders and small tape spools. The recorder was set either on 38 or 1 7/8 rpm depending on the length of the magnetic tape. This converted to about half an hour's chat each side of the spool. I rarely got "talking block" on the hundreds (maybe thousands) of messages I sent to my two dozen contacts. Anyway, it was in 1973 that I did a correspondence course in short story writing, followed by one in freelance journalism. I completed both of these and kept the course notes, exercises and writing efforts for many years. It's quite a strange feeling to go back and re-read stuff you wrote years before. How the errors jump out of the page and hit you in the face! You wonder why you wrote the sentence like that. It's easy to see now why editors rejected my travel yarns during that period. I used to use a lot of words ending "ly" - I had no idea I was doing this until a kind editor, liking the general idea of the story but not the "ly" words, pointed out the error of my writing ways. I've never had any success with short stories. Whenever I've tried writing them I get a lot of writer's block. Although I did okay with the writing course, I was never really interested in fiction. I started a television script-writing course after I'd done the one on journalism. I found that very difficult - but again it was about fictional situations (no reality shows in those days). I got to about lesson four and gave up on seeing my name in lights as a television scriptwriter. The lesson notes explained that writing comedy was the hardest thing to do and the best way to be assured of writer's block on a regular basis. Although I've had articles published over several years in N.Z. newspapers and an In-Flight Magazine (that gave me a buzz), it was really Tale Spinner that gave me the confidence to try to write something on a regular basis. I've had various article accepted by magazines in the U.K. and Australia since. And yes, after several years of almost weekly pieces, I'm running out of ideas right now. There could well be quite a long spell of writer's block looming. And I can hear some of Jean's readers saying, "Thank goodness." Although once I get back from the South Island there should be more tales to tell. Anyway, in spite writer's block at the start of this, I've managed 570 words.
Dalton Deedrick continues his diary account of his volunteer work in A MONTH IN AFRICA March 14 - Repacked our gear and retraced yesterday's road to Limuru, then off to a little place called Riata. It is a school for postulants, i.e., a weeding-out school for potential nuns. Some withdraw, and the rest go on to novitiate school and become nuns. I hope I have that right. Not being Catholic, I am never quite sure how the system works. The clinic was about 50 yards from the road, and up a steep embankment. We all took a share of the equipment, including crates of fruit, a gift from one station to the other. I had somehow forgotten my cardiologists warning about doing that sort of thing, and I was content to just sit and rest while the equipment was set up. Half an hour later the work started. A goodly number of the patients were past-middle-age grandmothers. The lives of toil they have led is not conducive to a beautiful old age. All were poor, worn out, and sad. Hacking away for years with a hoe, lugging firewood or maize stalks on your back, and making a living for far too many children takes their toll. This is high country, where tea flourishes. Miles of lush, low bushes, with dozens of pickers, were along the road. Most of these plantations were established when the British counted much of East Africa as colonial territory. I can see why they were reluctant to relinquish it. March 15 - I thought we had seen the worst roads in Africa yesterday and the day before, but getting to this little village of Komothay took the cake. I'm beginning to love the Peugeot; its springs and axles are beyond compare! Not much surgery, but 90 school kids came by to be checked. Michael herds them into a big circle when they have been through the chair exam, and gives them a talk on how to look after their teeth. Then they get what they came for in the first place, a shiny toothbrush, the first one they have ever seen. Between Thika and Kilimambogo we saw a giraffe just a couple of hundred yards off the road. Michael and I walked over to where we might get a picture - they are not very shy - and found she had a new-born, wobbly-legged young one. We backed off at once so as not to disturb them. One is quite safe in this part of Africa in the bush, the high human population having eliminated the antelope and other quarry of the big predators, and the most likely danger is from snakes. I haven't seen one here yet. Sister M.C. negotiated with a vendor for a supply of bananas and a pineapple, and mentioned that their phone had started to work, and invited me over to make a call back home. Had a good connection, and happily nothing catastrophic is happening in Alberta. About 7 p.m., when the supper dishes are done and the prospect of reading a few more chapters of a book beckons, the power will go off. Not to worry! Part of the armamentarium supplied is a barn lantern of exactly the same design that recalls my days as a farm kid in the twenties. A thumb lever raises the globe, allowing room to touch a match to the wick, and presto - you have a one-candlepower light. The book I had in mind was rather a dull one anyway, and I can at least go to bed without stumbling over the furniture. March 16 - A hard clinic day. Go into a wisdom tooth impaction without an x-ray, which would have raised a red flag. No light, no suction, no luck! Got it out in bits and pieces, and I'm afraid the poor guy will have a sore jaw for a few days. Mind you, he's had a sore jaw with it for weeks or he wouldn't have come in. One thing we do have is lots of surgical instruments. What we don't have is lots of good instruments. I think that every volunteer who comes out here rummages through the bottom drawer of his cabinet and sorts out all of the stuff he hasn't used for years, then brings it out as a "donation" instead of chucking it out. He feels good inside about the "sacrifice" he's made, but heaven help him when he has to use it. Tonight the power stayed on after dark. The power company has a system which I guess is fair. When the demand is beyond their generation capacity, they cut off one section of the grid. They rotate this so that if you don't have power tonight, you probably will tomorrow, and your neighbour will grope in the gloom. Reading "The Nation" three nights out of five is probably enough. President Moi offers a column of bombast, and the rest is a grisly accounting of the thuggery abroad in the land. To be continued.
CORRESPONDENCE Jean Sterling comments on some of the articles in last week's Spinner: Bringing a plate - I wonder if the above expression is known in North America? - Here we call it a covered dish. Now that I think about it, you usually do cover the dish of whatever you bring. New driving regulations: B.C. drivers seem to have the same reputation as Boston drivers do. The T-shirt, Cats regard people as warm-blooded furniture - Yes, cats have attitude, alright. Ed. In my experience, cats regard people as can-openers and door-openers.
Gerrit de Leeuw obviously sympathizes with women who are going through MENOPAUSE I've seen two shows lately that went on and on about how mid-life is a great time for women. Just last week Oprah had a whole show on how great menopause will be.... Puhleeeeeeeze! I have had a few thoughts of my own and would like to share them with you. Whether you are pushing 40, 50, 60 (or maybe even just pushing your luck), you'll probably relate. Mid-life is when the growth of hair on our legs slows down. This gives us plenty of time to care for our newly-acquired mustache. In mid-life women no longer have upper arms, we have wingspans. We are no longer women in sleeveless shirts, we are flying squirrels in drag. Mid-life is when you can stand naked in front of a mirror and you can see your rear without turning around. Mid-life is when you go for a mammogram and you realize that this is the only time someone will ask you to appear topless. Mid-life is when you want to grab every firm young lovely in a tube top and scream, "Listen honey, even the Roman empire fell and those will too." Mid-life brings wisdom to know that life throws us curves and we're sitting on our biggest ones. Mid-life is when you look at your know-it-all, beeper-wearing teenager and think: "For this I have stretch marks?" In mid-life your memory starts to go. In fact the only thing we can retain is water. Mid-life means that your Body By Jake now includes Legs By Rand McNally - more red and blue lines than an accurately-scaled map of Ontario. Mid-life means that you become more reflective... You start pondering the "big" questions. What is life? Why am I here? How much Healthy Choice ice cream can I eat before it's no longer a healthy choice? But mid-life also brings with it an appreciation for what is important. We realize that breasts sag, hips expand and chins double, but our loved ones make the journey worthwhile. Would any of you trade the knowledge that you have now for the body you had way back when? Maybe our bodies simply have to expand to hold all the wisdom and love we've acquired. That's my philosophy and I'm sticking to it!
Shirley Davis posted this one, saying, "This is the best 'Senior Moment' I have heard": A SOUND ARGUMENT Last year I replaced several windows in my house and they were the expensive double-pane energy-efficient kind. But this week I got a call from the contractor complaining that his work has been completed for a whole year and I had yet to pay for them. Boy oh boy, did we go 'round! Just because I'm old doesn't mean that I am automatically stupid. So I proceeded to tell him just what his fast- talking sales guy had told me last year: that in one year the windows would pay for themselves. There was silence on the other end of the line so I just hung up and I haven't heard back. Guess I must have won that silly argument.
THE DIVORCE A judge was interviewing a woman about her pending divorce. He sat her down in his office and asked, "Now, what are your grounds?" She replied, "About two acres, and a nice little house in the middle and a stream running by." "No," he said, "I mean what is the foundation of this case?" "It's made of concrete, brick and mortar," she responded. "I mean," he said, "What are your relations like?" The woman said, "I have an aunt and an uncle living here in town, and my husband's parents." Becoming frustrated, the judge said, "Do you have a real grudge?" "No," she replied, "Just a two-car carport." "Ma'am," he tried again, "Is there fidelity in your marriage?" "Well, both my son and daughter have stereos," she replied. "Though we don't really like that noise they call music." The judge sighed. "Ma'am, does your husband ever beat you up?" "Yes," she responded, "About three times a week he gets up before me and makes breakfast." Finally, in frustration, the judge asked, "Lady, why do you want a divorce?" "Oh, I don't want a divorce," she replied. "I never wanted one. My husband does. He said he can't communicate with me!"
Doris Dignard posted this story about HOCKEY FANS On a tour of Florida, the Pope took a couple of days off to visit the coast for some sightseeing. He was cruising along the beach in the Pope mobile when there was a frantic commotion just off shore. A helpless man, wearing an Ottawa Senators jersey, was struggling frantically to free himself from the jaws of a 25-foot shark. As the Pope watched, horrified, a speedboat came racing up with three men wearing Toronto Maple Leaf jerseys aboard. One quickly fired a harpoon into the shark's side. The other two reached out and pulled the bleeding, semiconscious Senator fan from the water. Then using baseball bats, the three heroes in Blue beat the shark to death and hauled it into the boat also. Immediately the Pope shouted and summoned them to the beach. "I give you my blessing for your brave actions," he told them. "I heard that there was some bitter hatred between Leaf and Sens fans, but now I have seen with my own eyes that this is not the truth." As the Pope drove off, the harpooner asked his buddies, "Who was that?" "It was the Pope," one replied. "He is in direct contact with God and has access to all of God's wisdom." "Well," the harpooner said, "he may have access to God's wisdom, but he doesn't know much about shark fishing ... how's the bait holding up?"
PREGNANCY An eighteen-year-old girl tells her Mom that she has missed her period for two months. Very worried, the mother goes to the drugstore and buys a pregnancy kit. The test result shows that the girl is pregnant. Shouting, cursing, crying, the mother says, "Who was the pig that did this to you? I want to know!" The girl picks up the phone and makes a call. Half an hour later a Ferrari stops in front of their house; a mature and distinguished man with gray hair, impeccably dressed in a very expensive suit, steps out of the car and enters the house. He sits in the living room with the father, the mother and the girl, and tells them, "Good morning. Your daughter has informed me of the problem. However, I can't marry her because of my personal family situation, but I'll take charge. If a girl is born, I will bequeath her two retail stores, a townhouse, a beach villa and a $1,000,000 bank account. If a boy is born, my legacy will be a couple of factories and a $2,000,000 bank account. If it is twins, a factory and $1,000,000 each. However, if there is a miscarriage, what do you suggest I do?" At this point, the father, who had remained silent, places a hand firmly on the man's shoulder and tells him, "Then you try again."
MORE WEBSITES TO CHECK OUT Judith English writes: This is an interesting site. The picture changes daily: http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/astropix.html ~~~~ Bruce Galway writes: These are unbelievable pictures - I didn't know anything like was possible:
Men ever praise the olden time, and find fault with the present, though often without reason.... Having grown old, they also laud all they remember to have seen in their youth. Their opinion is generally erroneous.... We never know the whole truth about the past. - Niccolo Machiavelli (1469-1527) |