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Vol. IX, No. 41 October 11, 2003 IN THIS ISSUE:
 Margaret Manning remembers another of her all-time-favourite trips, this one A VISIT TO THE OLD COUNTRY, 1972 I'm really going down memory lane writing about my first trip back to England in 1972, six years after we migrated. I was never homesick for my old country but by 1972 had a strong desire to see my nephews while they were still little lads. Considering that none of our family saw us off when we left in 1966, the sight of three people (parents and brother) waiting for me at Heathrow was a large reception committee. It was a very strange experience to return to the old home town of Stowmarket, Suffolk. And old it is. The Anglican church dates from 1086. Its spire is a focal point, being seen for miles around. I have written previously about one of my ancestors who was a leading member of the church in the 1600's. Eric's family also lived in the town for centuries. His grandfather and father made a new copper rim for the church clock. The building where Eric's family lived and also operated a business dates from 1713. Because it has an unusual dormer window, it is Grade II Listed and any alterations need approval from a high authority. I had a busy time visiting places from my youth. When I walked into the office where I worked for 8 1/2 years it was as if absolutely nothing had changed. The same people were sitting at the same desks, possibly holding the same pieces of paper. I was keen to help my brother on the pig farm and borrowed some suitable clothing for this. It was strange having people call there and start talking about the same things they were talking about when I lived in England. I felt as if time had stood still and I had moved on a lot. Eric's relations who didn't live locally came to Stowmarket to see me, and I visited many old friends. Two of these lived at Downham Market in Norfolk, two train rides away. The railway station there was antiquated and just functional. Our friends were somewhat unconventional by English standards as they grew vegetables in the front garden and flowers out the back. We drank a lot of wine and enjoyed Elisabeth's "continental cooking" which in those days was considered very daring. I also had a great time with my relatives near Norwich, Norfolk. They lived in a charming village, stuck to the simple life, and took me anywhere I wanted to go. This included a trip on the Norfolk Broads, a visit to Cromer for freshly-caught crabs, the incredibly beautiful North Norfolk coast, and a Wurlitzer concert at Thursford. I took my darling nephews to the swimming pool several times, bought them ice creams, lollies, drinks and chips. They must have thought money was my middle name. The U.K. had recently switched to decimal currency in Sterling. I thought that 10 pence was the same as our 10 cents but it was worth 20 cents when converted. So I spent twice as much as I intended. Never mind. It was great to have that quality time in England. I also did a coach tour of several European countries and that is memorable for other reasons that I won't go into here.
Terry Miller Shannon sees herself as a WOMAN OF A THOUSAND FACES I see you looking at me. Let me answer your question before you ask it. No. You don't know me. We've never met. No, I am not your daughter's ballet teacher. I'm (probably) not your older brother's exgirlfriend. I'm (most likely) not the girl who sat across from you in high school English. I'll tell you who I am: I'm a person many people recognize on first sight - although they've never seen me before. Sometimes I feel like Everywoman's doppelganger. When I was a teen, I hated the sudden recognition I'd find on people's faces. Here I was searching frantically for my own identity - and everyone was claiming it. One time, I was particularly miffed. "Well, I NEVER!" I stalked into the house after school. "Some guy thought I used to go to school with him!" "So?" Mom inquired gently. "So - he was in his fifties, at least! I know I don't look that old!" Mom looked at me, her gangly fifteen-year-old. She said, "He was dreaming. For a few minutes, he got to be fifteen again. I hope he enjoyed it." "Well, it was ridiculous!" "Someday you'll understand." Here's an everyday occurrence: A woman runs up to me in a parking lot and grabs my elbow. "Didn't you hear me calling you?" "Uh...no," I say, trying to place her. "I was shouting at the top of my lungs," the stranger says. "Rosa! Rosa! But you just kept on walking." I laugh. "My name's not Rosa. Sorry." "But aren't you....?" "No. I'm not." Sometimes people politely refuse to take me at my word: "Sure you are! You dated Denny and then the two of you...." "Really," I say. "I don't know any Dennys. Never have." "But I'm sure you are!" "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I know I'm not." I've never had to actually show ID, but I've come close. One day a boy who was probably about twelve came to the door collecting bottles for a drive. His jaw dropped open when I opened the door. "I KNOW you!" "Really?" I said. "Sure! You're that movie star - I can't think of your name!" When I told my husband of my most flattering misidentification to date, he snorted. "Boy! What some kids will say to be the best in their bottle drive!" "Hey, maybe I do look like a movie star," I mused. "One with dark hair - possibly a younger Liz Taylor or a more, uh, mature Winona Ryder." "Or maybe Minnie Mouse," my husband suggested, happily bursting my bubble. Craig was a little less amused the day we attended a class together. A woman I'd never seen before waved and smiled from the front row. My spouse waved back, whispering, "A customer," to me. But she wasn't looking at Craig. She called, to me, "Okay! I know I know you but I can't think of who you are." After I was done with my usual song and dance, Craig muttered, "I can't believe it. I deliver packages to her nearly every day. She doesn't recognize me, but she knows YOU!" "What can I say?" I hissed back. "My features are memorable, even if you've never seen them before!" One time, I came face to face with one of the women I was commonly mistaken for. And the odd thing was, we both stopped dead in our tracks and looked each other over. It wasn't quite like peering into a mirror, and yet eerily similar. And then we each smiled and nodded to the other - a silent acknowledgement of seeing something semi-wondrous. I wish now I'd asked her how often someone calls her Terry. After I'd been mistaken for one person or another four times in one day, I told the last inquiring stranger, "I must have the world's most common face. This happens to me constantly." "Not at all," she assured me. "Your face is most distinctive - which is why I thought you were Ann. She's distinctive-looking, too." Along with a million other Terry-clones. What's the definition of "distinctive" again? I'm so used to being mistaken for someone else that a few times I've automatically started in with, "No, I'm sorry. I'm not," when I actually WAS. On one occasion, the woman shook her head and said, "Oh, I was so sure you were one of the Miller girls, and that your Mom taught me home ec." Oops! Time to explain that I am one of those Millers, and why I appeared to be denying it. These days I know to let people finish out their description of who they think I am. Besides, I like to hear. Although it ruffled my feathers to be constantly misidentified when I was younger, these days I rather enjoy it. For one thing, it's an instant conversation starter. For another, I love hearing about my twins. I've been taken for the head of an art center, a flute player, a biologist, and uncounted friends, friends of friends, girlfriends, exwives, mothers, and cousins. People thought I was the woman who biked across the country or landscaped their grandmother's garden or bought a goat from them. My imagination takes off, dreaming of my alternate lives. It adds a touch of va-voom to a pretty content life behind my much-recognized face.
So, if you think you know who I am, please tell me about it. I can't wait to hear. ~~~Terry Miller Shannon (http://www.terrymillershannon.com/) and her son, Tim Warner, wrote a funny, rhyming picture book. Tim's three-year-old bath-loving son inspired TUB TOYS (Tricycle Press, 2002, second printing 2003). Children's Literature calls TUB TOYS "a must-have book for families" and Midwest Book Reviews says it is: "...greatly recommended...whimsical and fun." Check it out at http://snurl.com/tubtoys_amaz
RANDOM THOUGHTS A backward poet writes inverse. A man's home is his castle, in a manor of speaking. Dijon vu - the same mustard as before. A man needs a mistress just to break the monogamy. Does the name Pavlov ring a bell? When two egotists meet, it's an I for an I. What's the definition of a will? (It's a dead giveaway.) In democracy your vote counts. In feudalism your count votes. If you don't pay your exorcist, you get repossessed. Every calendar's days are numbered. A lot of money is tainted - It taint yours and it taint mine. A midget fortuneteller who escapes from prison is a small medium at large. Once you've seen one shopping center, you've seen a mall. Those who jump off a Paris bridge are in Seine. Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead-to-know basis. Santa's helpers are subordinate clauses.
Don Henderson forwards this actionable story about THE POPE AND THE LAWYER A lawyer died. At the same moment, the Pope also died. They arrived at the gates of heaven at the same moment. They spend the day in orientation, and as they're getting their heavenly vestments, the Pope gets a plain white toga and wings, like everyone else, and the lawyer gets much finer apparel, made of gold thread, and Gucci shoes. Then, they get to see where they're going to live. The Pope gets what everyone else gets, a replica of a Holiday Inn room, and the lawyer gets an 18-room mansion with servants and a swimming pool. At dinnertime, the Pope receives the standard meal, a kosher TV dinner, but the lawyer receives a five-course meal including caviar, prime rib and chocolate truffles. By this time, the lawyer is beginning to suspect that an error has been made, so he asks one of the angels in charge, "Has there been some kind of mistake? This guy was the Pope, and he gets what everyone else gets, and I'm just a lawyer and I'm getting the finest of everything?" The angel replied, "No mistake, sir. We've had lots of Popes here, but you're the first lawyer we've ever had."
NOTICE TO NORTHERNERS MOVING SOUTH The following is a pre-approved posting whose purpose is to offer insight and advice to Northerners moving South: 1. Save all manner of bacon grease. You will be instructed on how to use it shortly. 2. Just because you can drive on snow and ice does not mean Southerners can. Stay home both days of the year it snows. 3. If you do run your car into a ditch, don't panic. Four men in the cab of a four-wheel pick-up with a 12-pack of beer and a tow chain will be along shortly; don't try to help them. Just stay out of their way. This is what they live for. 4. You can ask Southerners for directions, but unless you already know the positions of key hills, trees, rocks and relatives, you're better off trying to find it yourself. 5. Remember: Y'all is singular. All y'all is plural. All y'all's is plural possessive. 6. Get used to hearing, "You ain't from around here, are you?" 7. Don't be worried that you don't understand anyone. They don't understand you, either. 8. The first Southern expression to creep into a transplanted Northerner's vocabulary is the adjective "big ol," as in "big ol truck," or "big ol boy." 2nd is "Fixin'" as in "I'm fixin' to go to the store" And 3rd,"Y'all". 9. As you are cursing the person driving 15 mph in a 55-mph zone, directly in the middle of the road, remember: ALL Southern folks learned to drive on a John Deere, and this is the proper speed and lane position for that vehicle. 10. If you hear a Southerner exclaim, "Hey, y'all, watch this!" stay out of his way. These are likely the last words he will ever say, or worse still, that you will ever hear. 11. Most Southerners do not use turn signals; they ignore those who do. In fact, if you see a signal blinking on a car with a Southern license plate, you may rest assured that it was already turned on when the car was purchased. 12. If it can't be fried in bacon grease, it ain't worth cooking, let alone eating. 13. The wardrobe you always brought out in September can wait until December. 14. If there is the prediction of the slightest chance of even the most minuscule accumulation of snow, your presence is required at the local grocery store. It does not matter if you need anything from the store. It is just something you're supposed to do. 15. Satellite dishes are very popular in the South. When you purchase one, it is positioned directly in front of the house. This is logical, bearing in mind that the dish cost considerably more than the house, and should, therefore, be prominently displayed. 16. Be advised that in the South, "He needed killin' " is a valid defense.
Keith Elliott forwarded this cautionary tale: MADE IN CANADA Joe Smith started the day early, having set his alarm clock (made in Japan) for 6 a.m. While his coffeepot (made in China) was perking, he shaved with his electric razor (made in Hong Kong). He put on a dress shirt (made in Sri Lanka), designer jeans (made in Singapore). and tennis shoes (made in Korea). After cooking his breakfast in his new electric skillet (made in India), he sat down with his calculator (made in Mexico) to see how much he could spend today. After setting his watch (made in Taiwan) to the radio (made in India), he got into his car (made in Germany) and continued his search for a good paying Canadian job. At the end of yet another discouraging and fruitless day, Joe decided to relax for a while. He put on his sandals (made in Brazil), poured himself a glass of wine (made in France), and turned on his TV (made in Indonesia). Then he wondered why he can't find a good paying job in...Canada.
Bruce Galway sends these awful PUNS Two peanuts walk into a bar. One was a salted. A jumper cable walks into a bar. The barman says, "I'll serve you, but don't start anything." A sandwich walks into a bar. The barman says, "Sorry, we don't serve food in here." A dyslexic man walks into a bra. A man walks into a bar with a slab of asphalt under his arm and says: "A beer please, and one for the road." Two hydrogen atoms walk into a bar. One says, "I've lost my electron." The other says, "Are you sure?" The first replies, "Yes, I'm positive...." A man takes his Rottweiler to the vet and says, "My dog's cross-eyed - is there anything you can do for him?" "Well," says the vet, "let's have a look at him." So he picks the dog up and examines his eyes, then checks his teeth. Finally, he says "I'm going to have to put him down." "What? Because he's cross-eyed?" "No, because he's really heavy." "Doc, I can't stop singing 'The green, green grass of home.'" "That sounds like Tom Jones Syndrome." "Is it common?" "It's not unusual." Two cows standing next to each other in a field, Daisy says to Dolly, "I was artificially inseminated this morning." "I don't believe you," said Dolly. "It's true, no bull!" I went to buy camouflage trousers the other day, but I couldn't find any. I went to the butcher the other day, and I bet him 50 bucks that he couldn't reach the meat off the top shelf. He said, "No, the steaks are too high." What do you call a fish with no eyes? A f sh. Two fish swim into a concrete wall. One turns to the other and says, "Dam."
Television is called a medium. This is because it is neither rare nor well done. |