Christmas 2000, told one more time

 

Christmas 2000

I know I written this story before, but since it's Christmas, and it's a real Christmas story from Christmas, 2000, I thought it deserves to be retold.
I received a package at home from Chapters. A week before, I’d ordered 2 books and a video tape (Hook) as Christmas presents, so the box was expected.

After I took the box downstairs, I decided to open it, just in case there was something wrong or missing. To my surprise, it contained 7 videotapes, with Hook among them. My first thought was that my sons and their families had pitched in and bought us one big Christmas present, and with about $20-25 US for each of the tapes, they could buy 7 videos for $175. Since it contained Sandy’s favorite movie Dr. Zhivargo and one of two movies that always make me cry (Mr. Holland’s Opus, the other being Field of Dreams) along with Hook and a bunch of appropriate cartoon movies, I assumed a knowledgeable person carefully selected them. The others are the Grinch, Murder by Death, Land Before Time VII and Joseph and his Coat or something, also a cartoon. I figured my youngest son purchased them for everyone, and that Chapters had failed to include the gift card as they often make mistakes. But, just in case this was wrong, and a generous son had done this himself, I decided not to email all and make someone feel bad. So, I decided to call the Internet store to see what happened.

After ten minutes on hold (thank God for speakerphones) I spoke to a guy who assured me this was my partial order, and that they had shipped Hook. He laughed about my predicament, informed the warehouse of their error in overshipping and wished me a Merry Christmas. He said it’s now up to them to take care of it.

I know that they will ignore my response, as it will cost more to send UPS or someone to pick it all up than it is worth. Who knows. I was honest, and perhaps I’ve lived in Canada so long that I respond without larceny in my heart. However, by Christmas, this all will be mine, I guess.

This is sort of a Christmas Story, I guess.

Of couse they never responded.

Have a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year!

It Starts With An "S"

We had our office Christmas lunch yesterday at a wonderful small Italian restaurant in Hamilton and it was a great time. I arrived as usual leaving my reading glasses in the car and in the twilight of the restaurant there was no way I could read the menu. I am used to this dilemma, and even though I have 8 or 9 pairs of reading glasses scattered around my life on desks, in cars etc., I often forget them when out.

Some wonderful friend offered to read it to me and another eventually offered me his glasses, but it was too late by then. I am just vain enough to pretend I can read anyway, and if I hold the menu close to a light source, and squint just so, I can usually make out enough to order.

I found the pasta dishes easily enough as headings are usually large. It was just a matter of looking down the menu and finding ingredients I liked together. I found chicken and tomatoes plus stuff I couldn’t see, and when the waitress came around I pointed to the proper spot on the page and said I’d like this. I asked for a salad, and she explained what they had so I didn’t have to find it on the menu. I was set.

The others ordered their lunches, and we had drinks and laughed and chatted. Finally the salads arrived and afterwards the main course. It was placed in front of me and I could see it contained chicken and tomatoes as well as other stuff and fettuccine, which I also had seen. It was good and to this moment I have no idea what it was called.

As I ordered first, I was served first and what I got was mine, I knew. However Ed, several over on my right, was about to receive his plate from several she had and she asked what he had ordered. He had no idea? Ed was paying the same amount of attention as I was, although he had on his reading glasses. He simply responded, “I don’t know, it started with and S”

Even in the end, when he took some home, we had to look in the box because what she had written on top never started with the S. We have no idea if he ever got what he ordered because he didn’t know what it was.

I like that. I couldn’t see what I ordered and still don’t know what was in it and he doesn’t know what he ordered or if it was what he ate. However, Ed’s did start with an S!

Editors note: Now that it's a few days later I looked it up, here are the dishes.

Fettuccine con Pollo alla Fiorentina (has chicken and tomato)

Julienne chicken breast, mushrooms, red onions, spinach simmered in a fresh plum tomato sauce and tossed with fettuccine.

Spaghettini con Pollo Aglio (Started with an S)

Morsels of chicken breast sautéed with mushrooms and sun dried tomatoes in a garlic,

olive oil sauce tossed with spaghettini and topped with feta cheese.

 

The Christmas Gift

My daughter was at work yesterday when an older woman and her two middle aged daughters came in for refreshments. After coffee, and as they were leaving, the mother noticed a display of coffee mugs as a Christmas promotion and she decided to purchase a few. One of the other clerks rang up the sale and told the older woman that then gifts were returnable after Christmas with a receipt. They were returnable for up to 30 days, as she had been instructed to tell customers.

Simple thanks would have been in order, but the woman told her it was not necessary. The clerk was insistent that she know the information, and encouraged her to take the receipt. Again, a simple thank you would suffice right here.

One of the daughters chimed in about then, and in a stage whisper assured her it was not necessary, as her mother was terminally ill and these were the last Christmas gifts she would ever give. As such, they would not be returned.

Fa la la la la, la la, la la.

 

From December, 2010...A Christmas Story

I was standing in the postal line at Shopper’s Drug.
The Shoppers Drug chain has sort of replaced the traditional post office in many Canadian cities. A small, full service postal outlet exists in most of the stores around here.

There were several people at the counter; putting stamps on cards, filling out papers etc. and two women were in front of me in the line with several more people behind. I was watching the woman in front of me impatiently wait her turn. She was examining almost all of the items on the shelves on both sides of our line. She seemed determined to touch or handle in some way at least fifteen different products while we waited. In front of her there was a woman who should have blended into the background, but she caught my attention.

The woman must have been around 60, with stringy hair and older clothing. She was unkempt, but not looking homeless or out of place, just sort of disheveled. She had a medium to large mailing envelope with her and there was another one on the shelf next to us that looked like she could have put it there. The woman in front of me asked her if the envelope was hers and she said she had taken it, and was going to put it back when she got finished in line. I knew immediately she was lying, they came in packages of two!

She had an object she was fooling with, a pink belt like contraption that may have held books, or dogs or something, but it was something she had picked up in the store. She may have had other objects that I never saw in the envelope. She was trying out various ways of folding it so it made the smallest footprint in the envelope.

When she got it fixed, she pulled the tape on the envelope and stuck it together, it was closed! Next, from her purse,. She pulled a pen. She addressed the envelope she was prepared.

Her turn arrived and she went up, and had the attendant weigh the package, and she paid the postage! She did not pay for the gift or the envelope!

This is the perfect crime! You involve the post office as an unwitting partner!

What guts, she didn’t even bring in her own envelope! You just pick your “gift”, steal your envelope and mail it to yourself!

No store detective can find the missing item on you nor tamper with the mail to find it!

 

A Day at the Circus from 2009

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

A Day At The Circus

This seems like a story I’ve already told but I can’t seem to find it here, so maybe I’ve just told it many times before.

In the early 90’s when I was in Massachusetts, I had an opportunity to fulfill a childhood dream, one I really never had thought about, but when presented with the opportunity, I couldn’t refuse.

I was the Vice President of the Beverly, MA Chamber of Commerce, and the Chamber sponsored a circus that was coming to Beverly. This traveling circus (a name that has been lost in time) was on the road close to 250 days a year, and put up and took down the big top every day or two. It was huge by our standards, and lots of fun.

The Head of the chamber was unable to participate on one of the days and asked the President, who could not be there, so they asked me to welcome the people to the circus. This sounds like a normal kind of thing, welcome the people, but not so in the circus. I had to go out with the ringmaster and welcome everyone from the center ring!

There I was, in my big boys clothes (coat and tie I think), standing with a man who was wearing a blue sequined suit, and he handed me the mike. Friends, my wife and daughter were all in the audience, somewhere up in the stands, and I said, “Ladies and Gentleman and Children of all Ages, I am Arthur Greenblatt, Vice President of the Beverly Chamber of Commerce and I would like to welcome you to the circus!

I was surrounded by horses with ladies in exotic costumes and clowns; it was almost like art school!

It was one of my finest days!

J.R Cigar

 

On their web site, J.R Cigar says:

J·R is the world’s largest online cigar store. We have the best selection of handmade and machine-made cigars, samplers, bundles, humidors, humidor accessories, lighters, pipe tobacco, hookah tobacco, and other smoking accessories. We also carry E-cigarettes, coffee, tea, and fragrances. Search our inventory of world-famous handmade premiums such as Montecristo, Cohiba, Romeo y Julieta, ACID, H. Upmann, Macanudo, Rocky Patel, Oliva, Partagas, and more! We’ve had quality smokes at the lowest prices since 1971. Don’t forget to browse our great catalog deals, weekly specials, and auctions to save a lot of dough or to get free stuff to add to your collection. And if you want to know everything there is to know about cigars, visit the J·R University.

In New Jersey where my wife hails from, J.R is a large Cigar and Perfume retailer, and the best of the Discount perfumers. It’s her first thought in finding high end, discount priced perfume.

They have a number of locations around the US, and it turns out there is one in Southfield, Michigan. We saw it from the car last week, and when we left to go shopping, J.R was high on our list. We drove up to the store, but their parking lot was full on the Saturday afternoon. Surprised, we found parking on the lot of the next door financial institution which was closed. My mother-in-law stayed in the car with me while my daughter and wife went in to J.R.

We waited, and after a bit, they returned. It seems that the Southfield retail store does not have fragrances, and instead is a smoking den.

The ladies were invited in and through the blue haze they discovered a large group of men all smoking in the afternoon. All the boys were delighted to have two young ladies experience the joys of cigar smoking with them.

My two fellow travelers choked their way back to us, smelling like cigar smoke.

In a few hours they were once again home and able to launder their clothing and their hair and get back to smelling normal once

Golden Arches

There was a huge accident on the Expressway leaving Toronto yesterday, and I was forced to leave the highway, as was everyone else, and hit the surface streets. After taking my mother in law to the airport in 45 minutes, it took 2 ½ hours to return.

About 12:30 p.m., I was looking for a place to get a lunch to go. While not my first choice, there was a McDonalds that showed up on the right hand side of the street, the way I was going. This was no time to stand on ceremony, so Mickey D’s it was.

After I got my lunch I returned to my car to set out the frugal repast in driving and eating order. A nice looking young couple exited the McDonalds just after me, and since they were “dressed up”, a rare thing for me to see in today’s world, I noticed them. The young man had on a suit and tie and the young lady was wearing a dress and coat. I admired them for a moment, as they got into their provincial car, a new white sedan that said Ontario on the doors. It made me take notice as I wondered who got official cars, and it quickly left my mind.

I started the car, and while leaving I looked to my left into the window of the white sedan. They were “going at it” in the front seat! While clothes were still on, they were rolling over each other much to my surprise. I shouted at them (although our windows were all closed and mine was just an automatic reaction) “You can’t do that in a Provincial car!”

I laughed and drove off realizing once again that clothes do not make the man, although an absence of clothes must make something. I couldn’t sit around and wait to see what carryout looked in their car.

Way Too Big!

I have always said, “Never eat anything bigger than your head”. On Sunday, with good intentions, I almost did.

We had gone to Toronto to the Island Airport to pick up my mother in law coming in from Newark. On the return trip we always try and stop in West Bloor Village to do some grocery shopping for fresh fruits and vegetables from several small Asian markets.

After shopping, we usually stop for coffee and some baked goods from a small European bakery to eat in the car on the way home. I always stay in the car and allow my wife to make the selections, as she will anyway, and it’s easiest just to let her choose. It will never be too bad; at least it wasn’t up until yesterday.

She chooses things she will like, and never looks for chocolate which I of course would want but is not in her circle of acceptable for bad items anyway. It always turns out to be a fruit based item and she will determine they are too large, so the two will become one and split for the ride home. I know what to expect so I am not disappointed.

For some unknown reason yesterday she chose a cheese Danish for herself and a raspberry tart or turnover looking item for me. It was turnover in looks but not with puff pastry, but more of a cake or doughnut dough. These are not my favourite, however, I should not complain. It was covered with sugar and was the size of a small sub! It had little raspberry filling, as usual, but was just a big, huge thing, deep fried and gigantic! Thank God for the coffee as it was dry and more sugar ended up on me than in me. It was too much but I refused to suggest that, given my luck on achieving what I had achieved! I will assume she wanted the whole Danish so I got the sub!

It was bigger than my head and way too much fat was involved in the production of this thing. The part that amazed me was they were able to retail such a thing for $1! That was just too much! There was at least a dollar’s worth of sugar involved!

There is a look.....

There is a look, I just discovered, that one has when you assume the person you are speaking to perhaps has dementia.  I didn’t know this but yesterday I received it, and recognized it right away. Perhaps if I had dementia, I would not recognize the look, but being free of the decrease, I got it quick enough.

I had stopped at the supermarket at lunch time to pick up some missing ingredients I needed to make sticky buns, a new diversion in my life. I thought I’d try baking, as my daughters had gone and they were the family bakers.

As I was leaving, I went over to the prepared foods counter to see if I could get something for lunch. As I looked into the case of hot foods, a great place for pizza, chicken etc., I spied a new item. It was a pin wheeled shaped goody, about 5”-6” wide, made with puff pastry and some kind of filling. There seemed to be two kinds, and I thought I’d check into those. They had no sign for them so I had no idea what they were called or how much they cost. They may have been a desert, I just had no idea but it looked good!

The clerk came over, and offered to help me, as she has done before. I looked into the case full of food, made a circular motion with my forefinger and asked, “What do you call the round things?” She looked quizzically at me and said, “Pardon?” I restated my question, with appropriate finger and hand motion, “What do you call the round things?”

"The look" came over her face, and she tried to be pleasant. She smiled and said, “They’re called potatoes, would you like to try one?”

She moved toward a container of roasted new potatoes with a spoon, and I realized what had happened! “No, I yelled, I know they’re potatoes, what do you call the pin wheel things?”

She laughed along with me now, and she had no idea what they were called either but she knew they were filled with cheese and spinach and they were good, which they were. They were also $2.99, and a great bargain.

I left with my pin wheel lunch, knowing I did not have dementia and feeling a bit foolish but delighted with my very cheap and very fattening lunch!

 

Complaints

A student writes:

“We have now had I believe 5 weeks of course with tonight being the sixth…

We ask questions and he answers some but mostly rambles and tells us to “trust him”, and it will make sense later…

I’d expected a student-based learning model, quite active and personalized …not lectures…

I am not going to waste anymore of my Tuesdays with this course as I am not getting what was promised from the teacher’s outline.

It is a judgment on my part, but I do believe that almost nobody in the class is there to become a professional… but merely to enjoy …as the course outline stated…”

This is a pretty good account to start with, as I have had student complaints for most of my 49 years in teaching, and have to deal with them, as I have in this case.

As always, the writer is pretty sure that everyone feels the same way about the class or the teacher. Often, they have others who have assured them they are correct. Most of us will not contradict another “crazy” student, and will simply agree, or nod agreement rather than stand and argue with a “crazy person”.

Usually, as in this case, the course or the teacher has been teaching for years, and as in this case no one has ever made this complaint. The biggest problem is the student “knows” what they want and therefore unless they get it, there is little to say. There is a prefixed idea about expectations that will not be discouraged.

I have found it is ridiculous to argue, or even explain to the student that it seems that five weeks is excessive before you figured out this class is not for you.

This is not, thank God, a required course, so the simple answer was to drop the course the first time you recognized it wouldn’t work, not wait a month to try.

I once had students tell me the teacher was difficult and horrible, and the complaint came from several students in the class. I did contact the teacher and had a meeting set up when the teacher was hospitalized and passed away. The difficulty she was having with her students was therefore obvious, and the solution was simple, as another teacher had to complete the class.

Another teacher told his class that he had bee teaching so long that he expected to “die with his boots on”, and they should not be  surprised if he died in class. He passed out in class from the flu unfortunately, and the class assumed he had passed away. They sent a representative student to the office to announce their teacher was dead. I guess that was a complaint.

I often hear about how everyone agrees with me and usually find out, if I investigate, that it isn’t true. Also, I have often heard that “at these prices I should expect…” and have offered all their tuition refunded, but they have to go away, and not get their tuition back and return to classes. No one has ever taken me up on that offer.

This is not to say that there aren’t bad teachers, but usually if someone is bad I have heard about it often, and never just a lone voice.

Yes. A student can have a problem with a teacher, and of course we try and resolve it, the concern I have is students trying to involve everyone else in it just to make their point.

A teacher may not be right for you, nor meet your expectations, but it may just be you and that’s fine…

 

My friend Joanne had a few pairs of socks on hold at Mark’s...

My friend Joanne had a few pairs of socks on hold at Mark’s last Christmas, and when she went in to purchase them on the 20% off sale, she purchased a few other things and left with the socks and the other stuff, failing to pay for the socks when she left the store.

When she got home she realized her error, and she couldn’t sleep. She was a thief! Nothing anyone could do would make her feel better until she returned to Marks, apologised to everyone present and paid for the socks.

I laughed, because as anyone can see if you read the previous post, I would have posted about the great sock robbery I had pulled off, not lost sleep over some socks.

We are all a funny bunch!

I would never go out to steal goods from anyone, but if the occasion arises, and it’s a non-threatening mistake, I will be happy with my petty larceny. If I feel the salesperson will be held responsible for the loss, I will immediately announce the mistake, and I have. However, if it’s a legitimate error, non-traceable, I’m there.

Years ago when my son, a bank executive, walked out of the bank and realized ( near my house in Calgary) that the teller had made a large error and given him hundreds of dollars too much, he went right back to the bank and returned the funds, knowing too well the consequences for the teller.

I am a nice guy who would not cheat anyone on purpose (OK, maybe the customs guys), but I will admit to a bit of the thrill of it all.

Who looked at the towels?

We were shopping on Sunday, a unique experience because now that we are empty nesters, we realize that we haven’t been shopping together for a long time.

We wandered around for a while separately, looking at various things and finally came together. My wife was holding a number of items to look at, several Christmas presents for the girls, a new, large can opener for my daughter in Toronto as the kids’ had broken, and some other junk. As well, a completely new set of bath towels and wash cloths in a matching green colour that will work with our larger bath. They were heavily discounted, so it was a bit of a bargain.

We got into line and waited to be served.

We arrived at the checkout and I was given the total. It seemed like a deal but I had not really been paying attention, and gave the woman my credit card and off we went.

As we exited the store, my wife quietly asked me, “Did she charge us for the towels?” I had to admit I wasn’t paying attention because, as each item was rung up, the clerk bent forward to put the item in the bag, lower down on a shelf, and she had incredible cleavage! I truly only paid my attention to that.

I had noticed, as sometimes it’s not nice to stare, that she had some trouble with the towels ringing in, and she tried three times, and even I heard the correct ding from the machine. But, perhaps it was an incorrect ding, but I was lost in cleavage land so I’m not sure.

In the world of conspiracy theory, this would have been done on purpose to confuse me and we would have been overcharged, but alas and alack, we were undercharged. In fact, when I got to the car I looked at the slip and we were never charged for the towels.

In a perfect world we would have rushed back and demanded forgiveness for making off with the towels. Not in my perfect world however, would this happen.

I smiled!

The Girl in the White Terry Cloth Robe - reposted from October 24, 2010

 

I was looking through some old stories and this one brought a smile to m y face. There is no update, just a fond memory.

 

This story is a bit over the top and my son, the editor, will ask me to remove it but I will stay the course, because it’s good.

 Let’s start with the basics.

I was not married at the time of this story, and I was not cheating on anyone. I was a free agent so it’s OK to tell without getting into trouble.

 

My wife does not read this blog so I am free of worry except for those of you who read it and know her, and it may become a bit of a problem, depending upon your big mouth!

 It is in no way is bad, it’s just an old man’s memory and a good tale to tell.

 My neighbor was a fine young woman who I have written about before in these pages. We did go out together for a while, and this part of our story may have been from those times or perhaps immediately after it had ended, but clearly before she moved away or was married.

 

The young lady in question would call me from time to time early in the morning and invite me to breakfast, or at least to come over and have coffee with her in the mornings. Sometimes she would have a Danish or a bagel, but always a cup of coffee. Both of us had to go to work, so it was an effort to do these things and have enough time to get dressed. This, in fact, was the biggest part of the story, as I was dressed when I arrived, at least my tie was on if not pulled up, and I was ready to leave after getting a few items and could easily leave. She, on the other hand, was always about to get dressed when I arrived. She was, in fact, always the girl in the white terry cloth robe. This was not a big deal, except the robe was never closed, and she was never dressed!

 You see the problem already I’m sure. I had a few minutes to spare before I left, she was about coffee and getting dressed, and she pretended not to have planned all this. I was nonchalant about the whole thing, as you can already tell, because I’ve never forgotten it!  She was cool about it because she knew I’d not react!  And so we had a standoff! An all but naked young lady and an aging man, all dressed for work! And so we had coffee as she proceeded to get dressed.

 

I never broke my composure, she never expected me to. We had a beautiful relationship! It was a perfect liaison, if I were a gay man! However, it was a huge turn on and turn off simultaneously!

 

She moved, I moved, she got married and eventually, so did I. I heard from her after her divorce once, and I heard from her late in 1989, I think, as I left for Boston and she was about to marry her second husband. I never asked if she still “wore” the robe!

The Phone Call

The phone was ringing and I was late. I was trying to get ready for my Board meeting, and the phone was going. I have a phone that tells me who is calling by saying it, so I don’t have to go and see who it is.

It was McGill University on the phone and I stopped. OMG, I thought, something is wrong with my daughter and they’re calling me. A father thinks like that when his kid is so many hours away, and off I ran to retrieve the phone.

The McGill University Parents Fund, of course! They had me! I should have known. If my daughter was in trouble it would never be at 6:00 p.m.! Only telemarketers call at that time.

I was caught and had no escape except the truth. I did not want to listen to his discussion points; I just wanted to know how much it would cost me for him to go away. He agreed not to explain it to me if I gave money, and so I did.

Ain’t life wonderful!

We are related to vegtables...

T

The Hubbard squash is another cultivar of the species that usually has a tear-drop shape. They are often used as a replacement for pumpkins.


According to one source, the name comes from Bela Hubbard, settler of Randolph Township, Ohio in the Connecticut Western Reserve. Many other sources list an alternate history. These sources state the hubbard squash (at the time nameless) came to Marblehead, Massachusetts through Captain Knott Martin. A woman named Elizabeth Hubbard brought the fruit to the attention of her neighbor, a seed trader named James J.H. Gregory. Mr. Gregory subsequently introduced it to the market using Mrs. Hubbard's name as the eponym. Gregory later bred and released the blue hubbard, which has a bluish-gray skin. The other major variety, the golden hubbard squash, has a bright orange skin. Gregory advertisements for the squash date from at least 1859. The hubbard squash, including questions regarding the name, is even the subject of a children's ditty, "Raising Hubbard Squash in Vermont".

However, some say the hubbard squash has a mysterious origin, possibly named after a Mrs. Elizabeth Hubbard, who lived in the 1840s and gave seeds of the squash to friends, thus increasing its popularity. It is not known exactly where the Hubbard was first grown, but most winter squash varieties are known to be New World foods, meaning they originated in the Americas. It can now be grown almost anywhere with enough sunlight, water, and warm weather; the seed is known to be quite resilient and grows best if planted during the spring to allowed to grow all summer.

We seem to have another story, as true as these things may be, as my wife’s Grandfather’s Uncle claimed he “invented” the Hubbard Squash and named it after his wife’s family, as Hubbard was her maiden name.

We have always assured our daughters that the Hubbard Squash was their cousin.

ubbard squash is another cultivar of the species that usually has a tear-drop shape. They are often used as a replacement for pumpkins.


According to one source, the name comes from Bela Hubbard, settler of Randolph Township, Ohio in the Connecticut Western Reserve. Many other sources list an alternate history. These sources state the hubbard squash (at the time nameless) came to Marblehead, Massachusetts through Captain Knott Martin. A woman named Elizabeth Hubbard brought the fruit to the attention of her neighbor, a seed trader named James J.H. Gregory. Mr. Gregory subsequently introduced it to the market using Mrs. Hubbard's name as the eponym. Gregory later bred and released the blue hubbard, which has a bluish-gray skin. The other major variety, the golden hubbard squash, has a bright orange skin. Gregory advertisements for the squash date from at least 1859. The hubbard squash, including questions regarding the name, is even the subject of a children's ditty, "Raising Hubbard Squash in Vermont".

However, some say the hubbard squash has a mysterious origin, possibly named after a Mrs. Elizabeth Hubbard, who lived in the 1840s and gave seeds of the squash to friends, thus increasing its popularity. It is not known exactly where the Hubbard was first grown, but most winter squash varieties are known to be New World foods, meaning they originated in the Americas. It can now be grown almost anywhere with enough sunlight, water, and warm weather; the seed is known to be quite resilient and grows best if planted during the spring to allowed to grow all summer.

We seem to have another story, as true as these things may be, as my wife’s Grandfather’s Uncle claimed he “invented” the Hubbard Squash and named it after his wife’s family, as Hubbard was her maiden name.

We have always assured our daughters that the Hubbard Squash was their cousin.

All in the palm of your hand...

I am sure that people have written PHD’s on this subject, and I just have a personal take on it all. It’s the phone thing, the self-focused phone thing that takes normal people away from us and puts them in some zone from which they do not return very quickly.

I had an experience last week at a dinner, which left me with the realization that we have all gone somewhere else. Sitting around in a pre-dinner mood, having drinks and snacks with a group of six people, in conversation, I began to notice that we were losing group members gradually, until there were just two of us. However, unlike the same activity in the past, no one had walked away; they just drifted into their hands. Their focus was all phones!

I admit I have a cell phone and apps galore, and with the help of reading glasses I can get lost as well, but I don’t rely on my phone for life experiences. I do look up things if need be but not unless it’s called for. I don’t use it for email so I don’t worry about that part of my life, although texts seem to play as large a part in some lives anyway.

People seem to dive into their palms and not return. The focus just shifts into the magic of dreamland or somewhere. I know I can do the same with a computer, but never have the chance to sit in a group full of people with computers.

I see this of course in Doctors waiting rooms and airport lounges, but sitting down at a dinner party crosses that line. Toilet texting is probably a game as well, and the first time I knowingly received email from a toilet I did laugh.

There needs to be a solution. Human interpersonal skills are bad enough without this distraction but now we can all just sit and stare. Whole wards in institutions used to be full of people sitting and talking into their hands.

We used to see and hear people walking down the street talking to themselves and we thought they were crazy and now we believe they’re talking on a phone.

Look up and see me! “Tommy can you see me……….”

The Night Visitor

 

 We have always collected things, and decoys were a part of our collections. We haven’t seriously collected them for years, even though we love them, in that we ran out of room and the market up scaled to a very high degree.

We pay no attention to them usually, and haven’t bought one in years. We live with 27 duck and goose decoys in our bedroom and bath. It seems perfectly normal to us, but not to everyone. When eventually the house is to be sold, we will clearly have to erase all traces of decoy fever in order to present a sanitized image.

Saying all this, I was in the Dollar Store the other day and in a pre-Halloween display, they had amazing plastic bird decoys, probably ravens or crows, and when displayed in a group, it looked like Hitchcock’s “The Birds”. I bought one for two dollars, the new one dollar at the dollar store, a true misnomer.

I brought it home and loved it, and put it on the dining room table where it sat for two weeks.

In cleaning up the other day, my wife moved the bird to the most logical place she could, it entered our bedroom menagerie. She did not, however, tell me. I was lying down, and as I woke up and opened my eyes, within my bird sanctuary there was a new member of the family, and I was not expecting it. As congruous as it was, it was incongruous to my eidetic mind, and I freaked! My immediate response was to assume it was a real visitor in my bedroom and I knew, instinctively, one of us had to get the hell out of there quick!

As I sprung from the bed, my sleep induced brain clicked into place and I realized it was my plastic raven moved to a new home. As soon as my heart slowed down I laughed!

A Simple Mind...

This is not my daughters costume, the photo is noted as to its origin.

I don’t even know how to start to explain this one, as it begins to detail my decline I guess. Not that I haven‘t been doing that anyway, but this one was bad!

We were sitting at the Hamilton Philharmonic concert last night, and in between pieces my wife said in passing how great it has been that our oldest daughter is being successful in her newly enrolled Costume Design class. This is not her major, but she was very interested in the area and was interviewed to be able to take the class which includes design and construction of period costume pieces to be used for produced plays in Montreal.

I thought about it and said how interesting that is, and how she would be horrified if I had suggested that she had an influence from the woman she never liked, who we car pooled with to elementary school. The woman was the head of the Costume Design program at the university and the kids never liked the car pooling nor the woman.

My wife looked at me in a funny way and asked what car pool I was talking about, and I quietly explained who it was and where she lived and how we developed the car pool. As I spoke I came to the realization that while all that was true, it took place in Baltimore in the 1970’s, and my wife was in high school at that time and clearly, our daughter never went to that school in that place and never really attended  school until Calgary….

Right story, wrong children….30 years earlier. None of those children were influenced to become costume designers.

The City Mouse and the Country Mouse

In the original tale, a proud town mouse visits his cousin in the country. The country mouse offers the city mouse a meal of simple country cuisine, at which the visitor scoffs and invites the country mouse back to the city for a taste of the "fine life" and the two cousins dine like emperors. But their rich and delicious metropolitan feast is interrupted by a couple of dogs which force the rodent cousins to abandon their meal and scurry to safety. After this, the country mouse decides to return home, preferring security to opulence or, as the 13th-century preacher phrased it, "I'd rather gnaw a bean than be gnawed by continual fear".

This story has brought forth many variations, and I have mine.

My wife and I went to Toronto last weekend to visit my daughter in her new dorm apartment, bring her a couple of items, take her out to dinner and in the end, bring her home for a day.

She has been living there for a few weeks, and has become more and more sophisticated by living in the “big smoke”, at the "centre of the universe".

After spending time delivering a few things, we went off to dinner at the restaurant of her choosing, a Schezwan Chinese restaurant in the Younge and Dundas Square area. We wandered for a while on a Saturday evening, and I was amazed by the number of people out and about, and I will admit that I hadn’t seen that many people in one place since being in Times Square a few years ago. A whole host of humanity wandered by, and I was looking around. I noticed my daughter’s unhappiness, as usual, at my behavior. Clearly, my wife and I were the country mice and she was the city mouse, all slick and sophisticated.

Not sophisticated enough however to pick up the check, and therefore, of limited credibility.

Larceny in my heart, I guess.......

Larceny, embezzlement and downright petty thievery; all of these seem to be a part of my confession.

This confession, no, this crime, was forgotten until this morning when it hit me, and I started to laugh as I walked Max my dog around the neighbourhood.

In the 60’s, I worked for four years for a large Baltimore Department Store now long gone. I have written many stories about my exploits at the store, and this was a long forgotten incident. I lost my innocence at that store, as I had previously written. I knew about sex of course, and had practiced it, but it was all innocence and light. I learned about “adult sex” at the store, secret meetings and people’s affairs, and I learned way too much about the “real world” that I didn’t need to learn.

When I was at the store for a while, I was moved from the Stationary, Books and Notions Sections to the Record Department, where I most wanted to be. I stayed there for a few years and it included Luggage as well, a subject I learned way too much about.

Records ended up being purchased through one supplier, a job shop I guess, where we could order anything and they would deliver. They also filled the 45 racks with the “latest and greatest” top 10 hits, selling for I think $.99. We started selling albums and I was there through mono and stereo, sold at different prices. The mono albums I believe were $2.79 and the stereo were $3.79, except in rare cases.

We picked up a salesman along the way who did the orders, and along the same way I became the manager of the departments. Usually, before the end of June, the store would fire the manager and make me manager until the fall when I went back to school and they made someone else manager.

The salesman, Bill, I believe, would give me a gift every now and then, which made me very happy. He would bring me a popular album, inscribed on the back as gift from him to me, which allowed me to take it home without any questions from security. I simply showed it to security as I was leaving.

It took a while for me to catch on, or it took a while for it to work this way because I think he used to take the records from his briefcase, but Bill was taking one of our records (our company stock) and writing it off as a gift to me. He “allowed” me to steal our own records.

Once I found this out there were perhaps many things I could do, all of which I never did. I smiled, thanked Bill, and went off happily with my record in hand. He never said he was doing this, so I only know because I was smarter than he was and saw him stealing it. I suppose I made up some lame excuse for our thievery, such as he would replace the stock from his own stock, but knowing full well it would never happen.

I was never told he was doing this and could plead innocence were I ever caught.  However, we all now know. Maybe I contributed to the store’s demise…….