Home  >> Stories  >> The Tale Spinner #2010-32

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IN THIS ISSUE

• Margaret Manning´s description of their holiday is the last for a while
• Lyle Meeres begins his account of a Baltic cruise
• Pat Moore forwards a story about books and librarians
• Gerrit deLeeuw sends an example of Newfie deviousness
• Catherine Green shares a German´s view of Islam
• Sites are suggested by Gerrit, Pat, and Tony Lewis

This is the last of Margaret Manning´s accounts of their recent holiday for a while because she is in hospital, have dislocated and broken her ankle and broken three bones in her foot. When Eric wrote, she was waiting for surgery to pin the broken bones.

SOUTH ISLAND, NEW ZEALAND

I´m one of those people more comfortable travelling on flat land, and although the South Island is famed for its mountains, alpine lakes, and ski fields, there is plenty of flat land to traverse. So I was more than happy to stay mostly on the Canterbury Plains, rather than to traipse all over the place and come up close and far too personal with the mountains.

The furthest west we travelled was to Springfield, which is on the road that goes into the high country and over Arthur´s Pass. Just looking at the mountains looming ahead was exciting enough for me. Springfield is one of many charming little townships spread around the plains. We had lunch at a delightful cafe where the lady on duty took her time carefully preparing our orders. Old-fashioned service for sure, but the range of food on display was as extensive as in a N.Z. city. No rushing about here - just sit back, chat, and wait for the delicious food and coffee.

Oxford is a slightly larger town with a great deal going for it as it is the home of a television chef who has set up a cooking school, the mandatory cafe, and kitchenware shop. Also in the town is a fascinating bookshop that specialises in books on culinary arts but has an extensive range of general reading matter. The town also has an antique shop, an art gallery, and several cafes.

Closer to Christchurch but on the same road is Cust, where we found an amazing Aladdin´s Cave/Emporium. The place is so cluttered you wonder how the owners keep track of stuff and it was an interesting experience to look at what was hidden away behind something else.

We had visited Darfield in 2004 and wondered if it looked the same. We were delighted to find that it didn´t seem to have changed a bit. Darfield has some extremes of temperature, having had the highest and the lowest temperatures in N.Z. (but not on the same day!) This town is large enough to have more than one pub and somewhere to stay.

A lot of farms in this district are changing from "growing" animals to producing products such as walnuts, hazelnuts, olives, and vegetables. But there are still plenty of sheep and cows to complete the New Zealand picture of a pastoral country.

It was most enjoyable travelling on almost-empty roads, and the ones we were on that day were lovely and flat.

(To be continued when Margaret gets back to her keyboard. We wish her a speedy recovery!)

From down under we go to the top of the world, where Lyle Meeres and his wife and friends enjoyed a

BALTIC CRUISE

We planned this trip well ahead. Donna soon found that to travel on a cruise ship as a single cost very nearly double. With little hope, she turned to Paulette Johnston, a sorority friend, and invited her along. To Donna´s surprise, Paulette was delighted to accept. We had met Paulette at a sorority function, but felt that we did not really know her, so we had dinner out, dinner at our house, and a few evening discussions of plans. We found Paulette enthusiastic and easy to talk to so we could see how she could fit in well, which she did.

The cruise was with RCI, Royal Caribbean International, through Neil Wall and Ivan Woit of Carlson Wagonlit travel. We had lots of planning to do for the London part of the trip but little to do but look forward to Norway, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Russia, and Estonia, plus some days at sea.

The cruise left from Harwich, England, so it started with two days at sea. Our flights were with Air Canada. RCI arranged for us to stay at the Holiday Inn London Forum Hotel the first night. I arranged tour tickets for Buckingham Palace, theatre tickets for Momma Mia, and four nights at the Claverley Hotel in the South Kensington part of London. I also took out a few American dollars for tips and British pounds to look after initial costs in London, and copied passports as required for St. Petersburg. I completed the "Set Sail" info form on computer, and arranged our boarding passes on computer. All we had to do was wait, and that became difficult in the last days when we were impatient to be on our way.

Finally departure time arrived. We picked up Donna and Paulette and their luggage well ahead of flight time and drove to the park and jet lot near the Calgary airport. They took us to departures, we breezed through, and settled in to wait some more. Despite the high security alert, the only thing staff checked was my bathroom bag. For the flight, Pat and I tried Melatonin and may have slept a bit better than usual on a plane. As usual, Pat slept little or none, but said that she felt better than usual when we arrived at Heathrow airport outside London.

It was now August 17. RCI had a man meet us and our ride to the Forum Hotel was fine. Donna and Paulette´s room was ready so we set up there before going out to walk to Harrod´s, where we admired the decorative ceilings, food area tiles, and displays, and the expensive goods. We had a brief look at the Museum of Natural Science. By the time we got back to the hotel for drinks and supper, we were wiped. Supper at the hotel was fine but slow. Yawn.

The morning of August 18, the first official day of our cruise, came early enough as we had to have our suitcases tagged and outside our rooms by 7:30 a.m. We had breakfast at 7:30 and got on the bus about 9:00. The drive out of London itself took about an hour but it gave us a fleeting look at several places, such as the Tower of London, Tower Bridge, and the London Eye. We arrived at Harwich about 11:30 and passed easily through the check-in process.

On ship, we had lunch in the buffet area, the Windjammer. Though the food here becomes repetitive, there were lots of choices. After lunch at 1:00, we could get into our rooms, so we unpacked and then went walking. We went through displays of the various activities available onboard and picked up a raffle ticket at each stop. Donna and Paulette then went to a "beginner´s introduction" to cruising while Pat and I stayed for the various raffle draws. We had everyone´s set of tickets, but most of the draw prizes were of little interest. One exception was a draw that paid the extra cost for dinner for two at the Portofino or Chops restaurants, good for $40 the next night - so guess what - Pat won!

We celebrated with drinks in the Schooner Bar and headed to dinner at the Tides dining room. Two people did not appear, but we met a couple from B.C. and a couple from Denver. The table group proved very congenial. Dinner was cod for most of us but Pat had prime rib. I had bought a set of seven bottles of wine (Donna bought five) so I ordered a bottle of Pinot Grigio (Paulette likes easy-going wines, especially whites). The meal and conversation were very enjoyable. The waiter and assistant waiter were cheery and competent.

After dinner we zipped off to the Coral theatre for the 7:30 performance of a U.S. Olympic champion gymnast of a few years back. He knew how to entertain so the show was not just tumbling routines. That was a good day. Even the weather was not too hot, with only a very early shower before we left London. True, the sea was slightly rough and we were a bit late leaving port since the Jewel of the Seas had to wait for guests who were delayed by security at Heathrow. Still, so many things had gone smoothly for us that we were well pleased.

Donna started Saturday morning by phoning us at what seemed an early hour. The problem was mine. My watch said 7:00 a.m. - but I had missed an announcement in the "Cruise Compass", the ship´s daily publication: we had crossed a time zone, and it was 8:00 a.m. We rushed off for a great omelette breakfast in the dining room.

Donna and Paulette went off and we headed back to the room after a walk to see about buying liquor to have in the room. The fellow in the general store told us that since last year, policy did not allow purchase of bottles for use on board. This was unfortunate since bottles were cheap, but they could only put them aside to give you when passengers departed at the end of the cruise. Since passengers were not allowed to bring alcohol onboard, people were forced to buy drinks in the lounges. We also found our "welcome aboard", photographs which were not worth buying.

At noon we went to a session on shopping in Oslo, Copenhagen, and St. Petersburg. It was fast paced but despite this it was too long and we left before the St. Petersburg part. Lunch was fine. We went to the captain´s reception and had our pictures taken with him (he was Canadian). While we sipped free champagne, we chatted with two ladies from New Zealand who had missed out on their intended cruise and were able to substitute this one quickly ... there must have been last- minute space onboard. Pat and I tried to catch a session on "The Two Sides of Oslo," but it was over when we got to the Safari lounge.

We had an excellent dinner at Portofino, good from appetizers through dessert, and nicely served. Pat had cheese for dessert, while the rest of us ate the sampler selection of four desserts, each rich enough to add pounds simply by admiring it. We rolled our way to the theatre to see the evening performance by the "American Drifters". It was high energy and appropriate. One performer could move his feet amazingly (especially to those of us who are rhythm challenged), and still have breath left to sing. I can´t say I recognized any of their songs, but the music was enjoyable anyway.

To be continued.

Pat Moore sends this story, which was written by Jerry Hayes:

MISS ISABEL

"I don´t believe in power mowers," she said, "and on Saturdays you will work inside."

Sitting in the library of a three-story Victorian home with streams of warm spring sunlight dancing among the books nestled in the floor- to-ceiling shelves, Miss Isabel began to explain my duties as her summer hired helper.

"I pay $1.25 per hour. Tuesdays we mow; Thursday is flower garden day; and Saturdays will be general house cleaning."

I really didn´t hear much past the $1.25, as in 1958 I was only 14 and that was a fortune. I had come to this opportunity by way of an older neighbourhood friend who had worked for Miss Isabel for the past three years and was leaving for Notre Dame midsummer and so had referred me.

"Can you start next Saturday? 8:00 a.m. sharp?" she asked.

"Sure!" I said. "I mean, Yes, Ma´am." There was something about Miss Isabel that made you say, "Yes, Ma´am."

Saturday arrived, and at 8:00 a.m. sharp I rang the doorbell. Miss Isabel opened the door. "Good morning," she said, "Follow me. I had some hot tea ready, but we won´t have time now. We´re running behind."

Running behind? How could we be running behind? She had said 8:00 and it was 8:00 exactly. As Miss Isabel led me down the hall to the kitchen, she imparted to me lesson one. "I have found," she said, "that when you arrive at work 15 to 20 minutes early, it allows you to settle in." It wasn´t a scold, but I felt somehow I had cheated her out of something important, and I wasn´t sure what.

Miss Isabel had already laid out several white cotton rags and a bottle of Old English furniture polish - the red kind - the kind I can remember the smell of to this day. I had observed that the old Victorian house had highly-polished ebony hardwood floors. I was about to find out how they became so highly polished.

On hands and knees I began to minister to those boards, with which over three years of Saturdays I would form a love-hate relationship. After awhile Miss Isabel suddenly asked, "What´s your favourite flavour of soda pop?"

"Orange, I suppose," I replied, not sure what this was about.

"I´m going to Ralph Brown´s market," she said, "and I´ll be coming back in half an hour. Will you please come outside and swing open the garage doors?"

As I opened the doors, I saw resting comfortably in the huge detached three-car garage, a pristine four-door sea-green Plymouth, circa 1947, and even though 11 years old, looking brand new. I would soon come to learn how this automobile stayed so spotless. Miss Isabel drove away, and true to her word, returned in 30 minutes. I had gone back to finishing up the floors, so she tooted for me to come outside. "Please carry in the groceries and put them on the sideboard," she said, and off she went to the house. As I sat the groceries on the sideboard, she instructed me to dust down the Plymouth and put it away. Here lay a problem - I couldn´t drive.

"Miss Isabel," I said, "I don´t know how to drive. I´m only 14."

"Fine," she said, "I´ll pull her in and you dust her down and close the doors." Off she went with me trailing behind.

For a woman in her late 60s and barely five feet tall, she was surprisingly quick, and I had to hustle to keep up. When I returned to the kitchen, Miss Isabel had prepared two ice cream sodas with orange soda pop. They were resting on a beautiful silver serving tray. "Bring these along to the library," she ordered.

As I carried the treats along behind, she casually suggested that I arrive 30 minutes early on Tuesday for my driving lesson. I was astounded. Driving lesson? I couldn´t believe that I was going to get to drive.

Miss Isabel took a seat in one of her high wingback chairs. For the first time, I took a moment to observe my employer. It was hard to believe that someone so tiny could be so impressive. I was accustomed to football and basketball coaches, big men, and even my dad was six feet four, but no one I had ever met was in such control of her surroundings.

"Jerry, do you read?" she asked.

"Yes, I can read really well," I replied.

"No, Jerry, not can you read; do you read?"

"Do you mean for the fun of it?"

"Exactly! What´s the last book you read for fun?"

"Riders of the Purple Sage, I guess, a couple of years ago."

"Have you ever seen purple sage?" she asked.

"I don´t guess so."

"Well, we´ll plant some in the garden and you can tend to it. Now, Jerry, pick a book you´d like to read, and we´ll discuss it next week."

That started three years of sodas and book reports, although I never knew I was giving book reports. As we discussed the books, Miss Isabel could make me feel the cold of the Yukon, the heat of the jungle, the dry winds of the African desert, and see the glitter of the jewels of King Solomon´s mines.

For the first few weeks, I only reported my reading to escape the hated task of pulling the dreaded chickweed from the garden, but eventually, I came to consider those book review sessions the very best part of Saturday.

After three years of polishing floors, learning to drive, and developing a permanent hate for chickweed, Miss Isabel told me one Saturday to come to work in tie and jacket. This seemed very bizarre for a lawn boy/floor polisher, but by then, I had learned not to question Miss Isabel´s requests. Unknown to me, Miss Isabel had summoned to her home Mr. Fox, the director of the Springfield-Greene County Library, to have an ice cream soda.

Mr. Fox chose strawberry, and as he casually sipped away, Miss Isabel Shepard explained to him that I was ready to start my employment with the library system as a page, the very next week. She went on to discuss my qualities as an employee, and spoke of my knowledge of authors, subject matter, and considerable interest in National Geographic, although she claimed not to know why. But maybe she did.

Mr. Fox was at least six feet four inches tall, but under Miss Isabel´s dominance, he became her willing and eager-to-please student. He immediately briefed me on when and where to report the following Saturday. Miss Isabel and I spent the rest of the afternoon discussing the responsibilities of librarians, and how I should find a suitable replacement for myself as her employee.

These things came to pass, and though Miss Isabel Shepard has long since passed away, I cannot help but think the problems of teen violence and crime could be diminished by a summer spent among the flowers, sage, dreaded chickweed, and books of Miss Isabel Shepard´s Victorian home, or even some time spent in the Shepard Room of the public library, which was named in her honour.

After all, when you´re 14 years old and you´re discussing Ernest Hemingway with Miss Isabel, how can you be thinking about building a bomb?

Gerrit de Leeuw asks

WHO SAID THAT NEWFIES AREN´T SMART?

Recently a routine RCMP patrol parked outside a bar just off the main highway at Goobies Reach, Newfoundland.

After last call, the officer noticed one of the men leaving the bar was so intoxicated he could barely walk. The man stumbled around the parking lot for a few minutes, with the officer quietly observing.

After what seemed an eternity, and trying his keys on five different vehicles, the man managed to find his own car, into which he fell. After sitting in the driver´s seat for a few minutes, he rolled down his window and cast a hook and line out the window. He seemed to think he was trying to catch a fish.

A large number of other patrons just ignored the crazy drunk as they left the bar and drove off.

Finally the drunk started his car, switched the wipers on and off- even though it was a fine, dry night - flicked the turn signals on, then off, a couple of times, honked his horn and then switched on the lights. Several times.

He then reeled in his hook and line and moved his vehicle forward a few inches, reversed a little, and then remained motionless for a few more minutes as the rest of the other patron vehicles left.

At last, the parking lot was completely empty except for the drunk, who finally lurched out out of the parking lot and started to weave slowly down the road.

The officer, having patiently waited all this time, now triumphantly started up his patrol car, put on the flashing lights, pulled the man over and promptly administered a breathalyzer test. To his amazement the breathalyzer indicated that the man had consumed no alcohol at all!

Dumbfounded, the officer said, "I´ll have to ask you to accompany me to headquarters. This breathalyzer equipment must be faulty."

"I doubts it, me son," grinned the proud Newfoundlander. "Tonight, Oi´m the designated decoy."

Catherine Green forwards this article from Emanuel Tanay:

A GERMAN´S VIEW ON ISLAM

A man, whose family was German aristocracy prior to World War II, owned a number of large industries and estates. When asked how many German people were true Nazis, the answer he gave can guide our attitude toward fanaticism. "Very few people were true Nazis," he said, "but many enjoyed the return of German pride, and many more were too busy to care. I was one of those who just thought the Nazis were a bunch of fools. So the majority just sat back and let it all happen. Then, before we knew it, they owned us, and we had lost control, and the end of the world had come. My family lost everything. I ended up in a concentration camp and the Allies destroyed my factories."

We are told again and again by ´experts´ and ´talking heads´ that Islam is the religion of peace and that the vast majority of Muslims just want to live in peace. Although this unqualified assertion may be true, it is entirely irrelevant. It is meaningless fluff, meant to make us feel better, and meant to somehow diminish the spectre of fanatics rampaging across the globe in the name of Islam.

The fact is that the fanatics rule Islam at this moment in history. It is the fanatics who march. It is the fanatics who wage any one of 50 shooting wars worldwide. It is the fanatics who systematically slaughter Christian or tribal groups throughout Africa and are gradually taking over the entire continent in an Islamic wave. It is the fanatics who bomb, behead, murder, or honour-kill. It is the fanatics who take over mosque after mosque. It is the fanatics who zealously spread the stoning and hanging of rape victims and homosexuals. It is the fanatics who teach their young to kill and to become suicide bombers.

The hard, quantifiable fact is that the peaceful majority, the ´silent majority,´ is cowed and extraneous.

Communist Russia was comprised of Russians who just wanted to live in peace, yet the Russian Communists were responsible for the murder of about 20 million people. The peaceful majority were irrelevant. China´s huge population was peaceful as well, but Chinese Communists managed to kill a staggering 70 million people.

The average Japanese individual prior to World War II was not a warmongering sadist. Yet, Japan murdered and slaughtered its way across South East Asia in an orgy of killing that included the systematic murder of 12 million Chinese civilians; most killed by sword, shovel, and bayonet.

And who can forget Rwanda , which collapsed into butchery. Could it not be said that the majority of Rwandans were ´peace loving´?

History lessons are often incredibly simple and blunt, yet for all our powers of reason, we often miss the most basic and uncomplicated of points: Peace-loving Muslims have been made irrelevant by their silence.

Peace-loving Muslims will become our enemy if they don´t speak up, because like my friend from Germany, they will awaken one day and find that the fanatics own them, and the end of their world will have begun.

Peace-loving Germans, Japanese, Chinese, Russians, Rwandans, Serbs, Afghans, Iraqis, Palestinians, Somalis, Nigerians, Algerians, and many others have died because the peaceful majority did not speak up until it was too late. As for us who watch it all unfold, we must pay attention to the only group that counts - the fanatics who threaten our way of life.

Lastly, anyone who doubts that the issue is serious and just deletes this email without sending it on, is contributing to the passiveness that allows the problems to expand. So, extend yourself a bit and send this on and on and on! Let us hope that thousands, world-wide, read this and think about it, and send it on - before it´s too late.

SUGGESTED WEBSITES

Gerrit deLeeuw recommends this site for a video of over 30 members of the Opera Company of Philadelphia Chorus and principal cast members from the upcoming production of La Traviata converging on the Reading Terminal Market Italian Festival. Wearing street clothes and blending in with the crowd, the artists swung into action after the first orchestral strains of the famed "Brindisi" were piped through the market, giving a rousing, surprise performance for hundreds of delighted onlookers who were there to enjoy the Italian delicacies and the everyday treats that the Reading Terminal Market has to offer. The four-minute piece won a thunderous ovation that included both laughter and tears from the audience:

Pat recommends this site, where every day the authors shares something new they discovered with you. Think of it as food for your brain - you´ll learn something new and interesting each day. If you want to delve deeper into this array of food for thought, you can use the navigation strip at the top of the page to browse the following categories: All, Animals, Entertainment, History, How-to, Language, People, Religion, Science, and Sports. That´s a lot of trivia!

Pat also suggests this video of a black Lab and a fawn playing:

Tony Lewis says we need a lot more people like this in the world. The video was made in Sondrio, Italy:

As E.O. Wilson accepts his TED Prize, he makes a plea on behalf of all creatures that we learn more about our biosphere - and build a networked encyclopedia of all the world´s knowledge about life: