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Vol. IX, No. 36 September 6, 2003 IN THIS ISSUE:
 Margaret Manning writes about another memorable trip, this one to THE U.S.A. I've been in the holding pen at Los Angeles Airport six times en route to and from England, but in 1982 I had the opportunity to travel within the U.S. on the way back from England. Apart from the chaos and confusion at Miami Airport, where we truly felt like aliens in a hostile environment, everything went to plan. We stayed with friends at Tampa who lived on a property with its own pond and resident alligator. We enjoyed their luxurious surroundings and needed a bit of time to recover from the traumas we had experienced in England. Eric had only one full day there before his flight to L.A. Our friends introduced us to the station manager of Delta Airlines, who arranged an upgrade to first class. I enjoyed the vast shopping malls, Busch Gardens, which is a sort of Window on the World, and Weeki Wachee Park. Among its many attractions were exotic birds, a river cruise, and the remains of an Indian village. I must say I enjoyed the American tucker. Tried many different "Macs", including one designed for breakfast, ate lots of very fattening and varied donuts, fried chicken, hot dogs, and blueberry cheesecake. By the time I got on the plane to New Orleans I'd gained several pounds. My friend Sylvia met me there. Our plan was to see as many tourist attractions as we could before reaching her home at Beaumont. I couldn't believe the traffic in New Orleans on a Sunday. We walked on the famous streets in the French Quarter and sampled beignets and special coffee. The Dixieland jazz coming from street corner musicians wasn't very good but it was an experience. It was hot, energy-draining weather so we headed off to a recreational lake which was crowded with young people. The next day we crossed and then followed the Mississippi River. Huge plantation homesteads were set back from the road; there were vast areas planted in sugar cane and plenty of swamps and bayous. Sylvia drove her Chevvy along the back roads to New Iberia. I found this town very appealing. The information centre was housed in a former slave hut. We did a tour of the Tabasco Sauce plant, a rice mill, and a traditional company store at Avery Island. We also went in the Shadows on the Teche ante-bellum house. I was pleased to finally reach Beaumont as I needed a sit down. I felt quite important when the press arrived next day to interview Sylvia and me. We had been friends for about 10 years by then, having "met" by way of tape recorder - a pre-cursor to today's chat rooms. Sylvia kindly posted the newspaper article to Eric, by then well back into N.Z. life. Sylvia and her husband took me to the Port Arthur Yacht Club via the Dutch-influenced town of Nederland. We had some Cajun food for supper - boudin. I know I enjoyed it but don't know what it was and I didn't make a note of any of its ingredients. Our journey to Houston was via Gilchrist, a charming fishing village. I dipped my feet in the Gulf of Mexico, then we went on the ferry to Galveston. I was very taken by this island. Next stop NASA, but we had time only to see some of the outdoor displays, including the Saturn V rocket. Sylvia cleverly found her way to her mother's home in Houston. It's quite beyond me how she negotiated the traffic. (To be continued)
Bruce Galway writes about summer holidays: SUMMER - WHERE DID IT GO? As I write this, my children and their kids are busy packing away the paraphernalia of summer. More importantly, the grandchildren, Amy, Jeffrey, Dale and Greer, are filing away memories of a summer that will be with them for many years to come. As I watched them over the summer I was often reminded of my youth and the great times my brother and I had in Bala at the family cottage on the Moon River. Probably my most frequent conclusion from walking down memory lane is that, as good as those days were when they were happening, I didn't appreciate either how wonderful they were or how lucky I was to be able spend my summers the way I did. I am sure my grandkids also take their time at Go Home Lake for granted because they have spent part or all of their summers here since they were born, which is also true of their parents. This was the summer they took up fishing more seriously but with little real success except on one occasion. Early one morning, Greer caught a fifteen-inch small mouth bass off our dock, which he landed successfully. After getting his mom out of bed to inspect his wiggling prize, it was decided to let the fish go. But this morning I noticed, just before the packing up began, he tried unsuccessfully to catch it again. The most significant happening of this summer was that three of four grandchildren took their first major step towards independence. This was the year they began to drive a boat by themselves. After studying the rules and regulations of boating and passing the examination, they are approved for driving small boats. Their parents taught them how handle a small horsepower boat including how to dock it without running into the dock. For what probably seemed like an eternity to them, they were only allowed to drive the boat within sight of either our or their other grandparents' cottage. But eventually, the big day arrived when they could venture beyond parental sight, leaving their anxious parents waiting for their call after they arrived at their predetermined destination. This truly was the beginning of their independence and the start of many years of summer cottage adventures. And, if history repeats itself, next year the tenuous constraint of having to call every time they venture away from home base will be lifted. The summer was also filled with swimming, building or improving forts at the cottages they regularly visit, tubing as well as knee and wake boarding, picnics out on Peanut Butter Island and investigating swamps and back bays. Traditionally the summer ends with the annual corn-roast at their other grandparents' cottage. All the kids, including those of friends and neighbours, play hide and seek using flashlights, eat corn and roast marshmallows while the adults reminisce about the summer and how fast it has flown by. When asked what was the best memory of the summer, Jeffrey, Dale and Greer said swimming and driving the boat, while Amy, who isn't old enough yet to drive a boat, said swimming and playing with her older cousin Dale. Our pragmatic 10-year-old grandson, Jeffrey, also pointed out that there will be a few more weekends before the cottage closes for the season and then only two or three months until it is time to come back for snowmobiling. So the summer has passed and now exists in the memories of grandparents, parents and grandkids. In years to come, it will be a part of the tapestry that is brought to mind every time the words "the family cottage" are said. How fortunate our families have been and are!
CORRESPONDENCE Carol Shoemaker answered the brain teaser in last week's issue: "...Take the word STARLING, and drop one letter, so that you have created a new word. Then drop another letter, which makes another new word, then drop another, then another, and another, etc., until you have created nine new words in total." She writes: No fair giving puzzles without the answer, or will it be in next week's edition? Here is one soloution: Starling staring taring tarin tarn tar ta a Ed. Note: My solution is slightly different: staring, string, sting, sing, sin, in, and I. Anyone else?
Kate Brookfield writes about losing a friend: TRUDY I have just said a final good-bye to our 18-year-old cat, Trudy. I didn't think I would feel so sad. She has been on an extension since they discovered she had a hyperactive thyroid that increased her metabolism. For the last three years she has been on pills to reduce the thyroxin. It seems these pills have side effects that affect kidneys and liver. Some well-meaning person picked her off our front lawn on Saturday and took her to the OVC [Veterinarian college]. I was beside myself looking for her all day. When I reported her missing to the Humane Society at 4:00 pm, I was told they had not got her. Then, after hours, I got a call telling me a cat answering her description was at OVC in very poor condition, dehydrated, and was being given fluids intravenously. Because of the holiday week-end, I was told I could not get her back until Tuesday as the office was closed and nobody to do the 'paperwork'. I went ballistic! When I went to OVC to see what was happening, I was told that I couldn't have the cat back as she now belongs to the Humane Society, until I get the release papers. Then they wouldn't even let me see her as the clinician told me I was not being agreeable. I phoned my daughter, Caroline, as it is her cat, and she phoned OVC and the Humane Society. She calmed me down and told me that it sounds as if Trudy's time has come. I did manage to get her back on Sunday, only because I made a fuss. But when she came back she was in a sorry state. She went missing Saturday morning and wasn't taken to the vet college until mid-afternoon. The person who 'found' her thought she was a badly neglected cat. So this morning, I took her to our vet and we decided to let her go. She has had a good summer playing on the grass and I took her collar off as the tags seemed to weigh her down. I knew her time was coming, but could have done without the hassle caused by the interfering passer-by. It cost me $25 for the Humane Society paper work, and they never even saw her. I am waiting for the bill from OVC, which I imagine will be over $200.00. Our vet was very understanding and didn't charge an examination fee, just for euthanasia and cremation. I asked about a paw print cast, like the one we got for Ozzie. Our vet didn't do them, but she phoned OVC and they kindly gave the material so we could do a paw print. I had to drive to OVC to get it and bring it back to the vet. They can only do the paw print after the cat is dead. It has to be baked in the oven and then it can be painted. I scratched in her name and dates 1985-2003. The vet brought out some glossy brochures showing little coffins and urns for ashes. I was amazed. I said I didn't want her ashes, just a paw print cast for Caroline. My dog, Solomon, seems to know something is going on as he came to the vet with us and didn't go in, and then I came out without Trudy.
Carol Shoemaker forwards these calculations: HOLIDAY INN VERSUS NURSING HOME I just heard on CNN that the average cost for a nursing home per day in the USA is $188!! Now, I figure it this way: I can get a real nice room at the Holiday Inn for around $65.... That leaves $123 for beer, food (room service), laundry, Elvis collectibles, gratuities and clothes. They have a swimming pool, some even have a workout room (therapy), a lounge, cable (recreation), washer dryer (if I am too impaired, a child or grandchild can pick up my clothes once a week, or they could rotate, that way everyone would only have to do it twice a year.) Most have free toothpaste and razors, but all have free shampoo and soap. There may be a bit of a wait to get that first floor room, but that's all right; it takes months to get into some nursing homes. There is the senior bus, the handicap bus, a church bus or van, cabs, alert cabs, and in some cities, The Duck! (Ed.: Here in BC we have Handi Darts.) You have security and if someone sees you drop over, I am sure they would call an ambulance. (If you break your hip, hopefully the family would be smart enough to sue.) What more could you ask for? With AARP and other senior discounts, I could be livin' pretty dern nicely. So, when I reach that golden age, help me keep my grin, Just check my ole rickety ass into the nearest Holiday Inn!!!
SIX STAGES OF MARRIED LIFE
1: Tri-weekly
Keith Elliott forwards this one: HYMN 365 A southern Baptist minister was completing a temperance sermon. With great emphasis he said, "If I had all the beer in the world, I'd take it and pour it into the river." With even greater emphasis he said, "And if I had all the wine in the world, I'd take it and pour it into the river." And then finally, shaking his fist in the air, he said, "And if I had all the whiskey in the world, I'd take it and pour it into the river." Sermon complete, he then sat down. The song leader stood very cautiously and announced with a smile, "For our closing song, let us sing Hymn # 365 - "Shall We Gather at the River".
THE COWPOKE A drunken cowboy lay sprawled across three entire seats in the posh Lubbock Theater. Maybe it was in Laramie, WY - who knows? When the usher came by and noticed this, he whispered to the cowboy, "Sorry, sir, but you're only allowed one seat." The cowboy groaned but didn't budge. The usher became more impatient: "Sir, if you don't get up from there, I'm going to have to call the manager." Once again, the cowboy just groaned. The usher marched briskly back up the aisle, and in a moment he returned with the manager. Together the two of them tried repeatedly to move the cowboy, but with no success. Finally, they summoned the police. The Texas Ranger surveyed the situation briefly then asked, "All right buddy, what's your name?" "Sam," the cowboy moaned. "Where ya from, Sam?" asked the Ranger. With pain in his voice Sam replied, "The balcony...."
Tom Williamson sends this thoughtful piece: SAY WHAT? A man is driving down a road. A woman is driving up the same road. They pass each other. The woman yells out her window, "P I G!" The man yells out his window, "B I T C H!" The man rounds the next curve and crashes into a huge pig in the middle of the road. Thought For The Day: If only men would listen!
GOVERNMENT WORKERS A guy stopped at a local gas station and, after filling his tank, he paid the bill and bought a soft drink. He stood by his car to drink his cola and watched a couple of men working along the roadside. One man would dig a hole two or three feet deep and then move on. The other man came along behind him and filled in the hole. While one was digging a new hole, the other was 25 feet behind filling in the hole. The men worked right past the guy with the soft drink and went on down the road. "I can't stand this," said the man, tossing the can into a trash container and headed down the road toward the men. "Hold it, hold it," he said to the men. "Can you tell me what's going on here with all this digging and refilling?" "Well, we work for the government and we're just doing our job," one of the men said. "But one of you is digging a hole and the other fills it up. You're not accomplishing anything. Aren't you wasting the taxpayers' money?" "You don't understand, mister," one of the men said, leaning on his shovel and wiping his brow. "Normally there's three of us: me, Elmer and Leroy. I dig the hole, Elmer sticks in the tree, and Leroy, here, puts the dirt back. Now just because Elmer's sick, that don't mean that Leroy and me can't work."
TEN WAYS TO KNOW IF YOU HAVE "ESTROGEN ISSUES" 1. Everyone around you has an attitude problem. 2. You're adding chocolate chips to your cheese omelet. 3. The dryer has shrunk every last pair of your jeans. 4. Your husband is suddenly agreeing to everything you say. 5. You're using your cellular phone to dial up every bumper sticker that says: "How's my driving - call 1-800-" 6. Everyone's head looks like an invitation to batting-practice. 7. Everyone seems to have just landed here from "outer space". 8. You can't believe they don't make a tampon bigger than Super Plus. 9. You're sure that everyone is scheming to drive you crazy. 10. The Tylenol bottle is empty and you bought it yesterday.
We are a whole culture addicted to the idea of romantic love, an emotion which starts off with feeling like you have to throw up all the time - and that's the good part. - Jeani Read |