Northwest Seniors Online: Stories  

These "Tale Spinner" episodes are brought to you courtesy of one of our Canadian friends, Jean Sansum. You can thank her by eMail at Jean@mindlink.bc.ca

We have not carried these episodes for quite some time but do expect that they will be a regular feature of Northwest Seniors Online in 2001.


THE TALE SPINNER

Vol. VII, No. 52
December 29, 2001

IN THIS ISSUE:

  • Margaret Manning finishes her story of their South Island holiday
  • On the morning after comes the day of reckoning
  • Kay Deedrick writes about an interesting use of a Spinner item
  • Dick Monaghan tells us how he spent the Christmas holidays
  • Kate Brookfield corrects a "fact" that appeared here recently
  • Bruce Galway sends a success story with a moral

* * *

Margaret Manning (mm.man@xtra.co.nz) wraps up her story of their

SOUTH ISLAND SAGA

Wellington to Hawkes Bay and on to Rotorua

The Rimutaka Hill Road is 13 km. long and it is a steep and windy climb to the highest point of the road at 555 metres. The Rimutaka ranges are full of gullies, steep drops, walking tracks, and trees, and the road is similar to that of the hilly road outside Nelson, but narrower. It is occasionally closed due to ice and snow. The Rimutakas are very popular with people who like tramping (hiking) but it is not unusual for some of them to get lost in these parts. The bush is very dense, the weather conditions change rapidly around here, and it is easy to become disoriented.

Over the hill, there are numerous small townships serving a large farming community. These settlements comprise one shopping street with a few dozen houses nearby. They generally looked neat and tidy. The National Native Bird Sanctuary at Mt. Bruce (near Eketahuna) is well worth a visit. This is the best place in N.Z. to see some of our most endangered birds. It was here that we saw takahe, an extremely threatened species. Takahe is like a very large version of a pukeko (which is otherwise known as a swamp hen, and is similar in appearance to coots and moorhens of the Northern Hemisphere).

The snow-covered peaks of the Tararua and Ruahine ranges made the perfect backdrop to the clear blue sky, autumn colours of the deciduous trees, and lush green paddocks of this farming district. We stopped for a cuppa in a rest area by the sign indicating we were at 40 degrees South. We stayed for two nights at Hastings, a bright, spick and span and quite appealing small city in Hawkes Bay. It was here we met up with friends and had a wonderful day visiting nearby Napier.

Napier was razed early February 1931 by a devastating earthquake. This coastal city is a most attractive place, with its beautifully maintained 1930s architecture, railway workers' cottages by the waterfront, updated to suit modern life, long promenade and parks. Some of the attractions in or near Napier and Hastings are the gannet sanctuary at Cape Kidnappers, paragliding from Te Mata Peak, coastal activities, or visits to vineyards. Some of N.Z.'s best white wines come from Hawkes Bay; several of the vineyards have restaurants set in lovely surroundings.

The trip to Cape Kidnappers is either by tractor and trailer along the beach at low tide, and a climb up the hill, or by 4WD over a working sheep farm to the end of the peninsula, where thousands of gannets nest on mainland soil.

Our next overnight stop was at Rotorua via the Napier-Taupo highway. There was more ice (black ice in places) on this road than we had seen anywhere, and more snow on the central North Island mountains than we had ever seen in 35 years of travelling around. Adventurous tourists can take white water rafting trips on the Mokau river, accessed off this road.

We always stop at the Summit Kiosk for a coffee break. The Kiosk's customer base is mainly truck drivers regularly traversing this road, and it has both an humble outer and indoor appearance. The food is always fresh, excellent value for money, and there is a range of teas and coffees as up to date as any flash city caf. Around the walls of Summit Kiosk are stories and photographs about the road.

People wishing to travel the route before any road went in had to cross the Esk River 30 times. Things improved in the 1890s when a road of sorts went in and the journey between Taupo and Napier by horse and carriage took only two days. The 136-km. route today takes about 1 3/4 hours as the road is still a bit tricky. On the 4th July, 1996, 400 mm. (16 inches) of snow fell at the Summit Tearooms. The road was closed several times this past winter.

Taupo was choc-a-bloc with people and traffic. It was a long weekend with many events organised, and a lovely fine (if cold) day. Taupo is really the lake and was very busy with sailing boats and power boats; children were exploring the scoria beach; older people were taking a stroll on the footpath; others were enjoying a picnic lunch alongside the water. We like Taupo for a lunch stop, but not that day, so we pressed on and made a picnic lunch by an almost hidden trout fishing lake near Rotorua. We don't know how we had missed this spot on many previous visits to the district. At Rotorua we again visited our friends, and had a good catch-up session with them.

After that it was a routine journey home. It's always nice to return home, and after six weeks away travelling on excellent roads, the potholed, patchy roads of the far North seemed strangely inviting.

* * *

´TWAS THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS

´Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house,
Every creature was hurting - even the mouse.

The toys were all broken, their batteries dead;
Santa passed out, with some ice on his head.

Wrapping and ribbons just covered the floor, while
Upstairs the family continued to snore.

And I in my T-shirt, new Reeboks and jeans,
Went into the kitchen and started to clean.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the sink to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains, and threw up the sash.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a little white truck, with an oversized mirror.

The driver was smiling, so lively and grand;
The patch on his jacket said "U.S. Postman."

With a handful of bills, he grinned like a fox,
Then quickly he stuffed them into our mailbox.

Bill after bill, after bill, they still came.
Whistling and shouting he called them by name:

"Now Dillard´s, now Broadway´s, now Penny´s and Sears;
Here´s Levitz´s and Target´s and Mervyn´s - all here!!

To the tip or your limit, every store, every mall,
Now chargeaway-chargeaway-chargeaway all!"

He whooped and he whistled as he finished his work.
He filled up the box, and then turned with a jerk.

He sprang to his truck and he drove down the road,
Driving much faster with just half a load.

Then I heard him exclaim with great holiday cheer,
"ENJOY WHAT YOU GOT...YOU´LL BE PAYING ALL YEAR!"

* * *

Kathleen Deedrick (deeddk@telusplanet.net) writes about the unique use of an item in a recent Spinner:

ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT?

...I did want to report on something you printed in November. Rafiki sent a new version of "Are You Lonesome Tonight". Perfect timing. We needed some entertainment for our Flying Club Christmas party. We had a piano, two guitars, and three great compatible male voices. What a hit! As usual, everyone wanted a copy, but I tried to get Dalton to hang on to it, and by next year we could do it again.

* * *

Dick Monaghan (richardm6835@attbi.com) tells us how he and his family spent the Christmas just past:

HO HO HO!

We figured that as long as it was going to rain in Vancouver, USA, we'd go where the rain was really serious. We made reservations at Lake Quinault. The difference is this: Vancouver, USA, gets 15 inches of rain per year, while Lake Quinault gets 145 inches.

What happened? Three days of glorious sunshine. The people at the resort thought we'd gone completely crackers when we complained there was no rain. This was the first time we've gone somewhere, other than a family home, for Christmas. At first, I thought we'd relieve Miss Kate of all the hoopla she goes through, but the kids didn't think it out. They decided we'd have our traditional Christmas Eve seafood buffet (put together by our son Doug) a couple of days early at our house. They thought that because Doug was doing all the food, Miss Kate would still be off the hook.

How little they know! Miss Kate spent the better part of two weeks and the annual budget of a small town fixing up the house BECAUSE THE CHILDREN WERE COMING! I thought (ho, ho) that for once in the last 48 years, nothing would get put away and I could find my stuff without having to hunt through the entire house. No such luck. There is apparently a fixed rule throughout all time and the entire universe that there will be no peace for husbands at Christmas. Since the place was semi-presentable, we decided to throw a party and pay off some social obligations, some dating back to 1993.

Lake Quinault is in the Olympic National Forest, just off the Quinault Indian Reservation. (Don't bother me with all that PC stuff about native Americans. They were Indians when I grew up, and they're Indians now. Changing the name isn't going to solve the problems of the saddest failure in Americas history.) The Quinaults have jurisdiction over the lake itself, so if you want to fish (we didn't), you have to get a tribal permit.

We liked the place very much; there are no phones in the rooms. The hotel seems to have one for its own use, but I didn't find a public phone. (I didn't look all that hard, either.) It's very quiet and there's little to do except hike along the lake or on one of the many trails through the deep, deep woods. (I don't hike all that well these days, but they have some trails designed for the less athletic. They also put walking staffs in the rooms.)

If you're a tree-hugger or a Mother Earth type, it's probably best not to mention it in this part of the country. Most people in the area, including the twin cities of Aberdeen and Hoquiam, were dependent on the timber industry. There's no need for them to wonder if there's a recession. There is also no doubt we have to conserve our resources. Anyone with solutions is invited to come forward.

Our waitress at Christmas dinner teaches math throughout the K-12 school system. She said there aren't very many Indian children in school past the age where they can drop out. She is also the athletic director, and wears a couple of administrative hats in addition to that.

We all agreed, over Dungeness crab-and-cheese omelets and fried oysters at the Beehive Caf in Montesano, that the whole idea was a big success. Even the grandkids seemed to have a good time (as long as they had electronic games to amuse themselves.)

Well do it again, maybe at the ocean, next year.

* * *

Kate Brookfield (kbrookfi@sympatico.ca) writes: "I was reading that the internet is responsible for spreading more misinformation than it is for spreading correct facts. I think this could be true." She was referring to a recent "fact" that claimed Winston Churchill was born in a ladies' room at a dance. Here is her

CORRECTION

This is not true. I was at Blenheim palace and saw the bed where he was born; also his first night shirt. It was minute with a beautiful darn in it!

The story we were given is that his American mother was eight months pregnant when she visited Blenheim Palace. There was a hunt on and she insisted on going as she wanted to prove that American women were not left behind when the men did things. So she went on the hunt, fell off her horse, and was rushed into the house and put in one of the bedrooms, where she went into labour and Winston was born there.

His father, Randolph, was a younger son, so did not get the title Duke of Marlborough and owner of Blenheim Palace, the family estate of the Churchill family.

On another subject, Kate was so happy to be the owner of a new computer that she burst into verse:

'Twas the day before Xmas I saw in a flyer A computer for sale that was a great buy. It had speed in the CPU, RAM more than enough, And lots of other neat sounding stuff. I raced to the store and returned to my house With a super computer, including a mouse.

Ed. Note: Kate just wrote that she became so disgusted with all the gimmicks on her new computer that she took it back and had her old one upgraded. ;)

* * *

This one was sent to me by a man, so don't blame me for the bias in this

MEN'S THESAURUS

"I'M GOING FISHING" Means: "I'm going to drink myself dangerously stupid, and stand by a stream with a stick in my hand, while the fish swim by in complete safety."

"IT'S A GUY THING" Means: "There is no rational thought pattern connected with it, and you have no chance at all of making it logical."

"CAN I HELP WITH DINNER?" Means: "Why isn't it already on the table?"

"UH HUH," "SURE, HONEY," OR "YES, DEAR..." Means: Absolutely nothing. It's a conditioned response.

"IT WOULD TAKE TOO LONG TO EXPLAIN" Means: "I have no idea how it works."

"I WAS LISTENING TO YOU. IT'S JUST THAT I HAVE THINGS ON MY MIND." Means: "I was wondering if that redhead over there is wearing a bra."

"TAKE A BREAK HONEY, YOU'RE WORKING TOO HARD". Means: "I can't hear the game over the vacuum cleaner."

"THAT'S INTERESTING, DEAR." Means: "Are you still talking?"

"YOU KNOW HOW BAD MY MEMORY IS." Means: "I remember the theme song to 'F Troop', the address of the first girl I ever kissed, and the vehicle identification numbers of every car I've ever owned, but I forgot your birthday."

"I WAS JUST THINKING ABOUT YOU, AND GOT YOU THESE ROSES". Means: "The girl selling them on the corner was a real babe."

"OH, DON'T FUSS, I JUST CUT MYSELF, IT'S NO BIG DEAL." Means: "I have actually severed a limb, but will bleed to death before I admit that I'm hurt."

"HEY, I'VE GOT MY REASONS FOR WHAT I'M DOING." Means: "And I sure hope I think of some pretty soon."

"I CAN'T FIND IT." Means: "It didn't fall into my outstretched hands, so I'm completely clueless."

"WHAT DID I DO THIS TIME?" Means: "What did you catch me at?"

"I HEARD YOU." Means: "I haven't the foggiest clue what you just said, and am hoping desperately that I can fake it well enough so that you don't spend the next three days yelling at me."

"YOU KNOW I COULD NEVER LOVE ANYONE ELSE." Means: "I am used to the way you yell at me, and realize it could be worse."

"YOU LOOK TERRIFIC." Means: "Please don't try on one more outfit, I'm starving."

"I'M NOT LOST. I KNOW EXACTLY WHERE WE ARE." Means: "No one will ever see us alive again."

"WE SHARE THE HOUSEWORK." Means: "I make the messes, she cleans them up.

* * *

Bruce Galway (bruce@encode.com) sends this story, which illustrates that there is life beyond technology:

A SHORT STORY WITH A LESSON

An unemployed man goes to try for a job with Microsoft as a cleaner (Section Floors, sweeping and cleaning).

The manager there arranges for an aptitude test. After the test, the manager says "You will be appointed on the scale of $30 per day. Let me have your e-mail address, so that I can send you a form to complete and advise you where to report for work on your first day."

Taken aback, the unemployed man protests that he is neither in possession of a computer nor of an e-mail address.

To this the MS manager replies: "Well, then, that really means you virtually don't exist and can therefore hardly expect to be employed."

Stunned, the man leaves. Not knowing where to turn and only having about $10 left in his pocket, he decides to buy a 10 kg box of tomatoes at the supermarket.

Within less than two hours, he sells the tomatoes singly at 100% profit. Repeating the process several times more that day, he ends up with almost $100 before going to sleep that night.

Thus it dawns on the man that he could quite easily make a living selling tomatoes. Getting up early and earlier every day and going to bed late and later, he multiplies his hoard of profits in quite a short time.

Not too long thereafter, he acquires a cart to transport several dozen boxes of tomatoes, only to have to trade it in again shortly afterwards on a pick-up truck. By the end of the second year, he is the owner of a fleet of pick-up trucks and manages a staff of a hundred former unemployed people, all selling tomatoes.

Considering the future of his wife and children, the Tomato Millionaire decides to buy some life insurance. Calling an insurance adviser, he picks an insurance plan to fit his new circumstances.

At the end of the telephone conversation, the adviser asks him for his e-mail address in order that he might forward the documentation.

When the man replies that he has no e-mail, the insurance adviser is stunned: "What, you mean to say you don't even have e-mail? How on earth have you managed to amass such wealth without the Internet, e-mail and e-commerce? Can you imagine where you would have been by now, if you had been connected from the very start!"

After a moment's silence, the tomato millionaire replied: "Sure! I would have been a cleaner at Microsoft!"

Morals of the story

1: The Internet, e-mail and e-commerce do not need to rule your life.

2: If you don't have e-mail, but work hard, you can still become a millionaire.

3: Seeing that you got this story via e-mail, you're probably closer to becoming a cleaner than you are to becoming a millionaire.

4: If you do have a computer and e-mail, you're already being taken to the cleaners by Microsoft!!!!

* * *

EDITOR'S NOTE: As I come to the end of another year of publishing the Tale Spinner and the beginning of the eighth, may I wish all my subscribers, readers, and contributors the very best of 2002. May you all find peace and prosperity, and above all, good health, in the coming year!

* * *

One kind word can warm three winter months. - Japanese proverb


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