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whew !!!

IN THIS ISSUE

• Elsie Ayer remembers a hated pair of gym shoes
• Geoff Goodship writes about growing up poor
• Bill McNair reminds us of the history of Robert W. Service
• Jack Peaker forwards a camper´s letter to his parents
• Sharon Graham tells about a rewarding senior moment
• Don Henderson forwards some suggestions for bumper stickers
• Gerrit de Leeuw sends us the story of a very wise decision
• Bruce Galway admits that men are the cause of most of women´s problems
• Kate Brookfield posts a story about getting to heaven
• Carol Shoemaker believes there are some things women need to know
• Where does Burke Dykes get all these blonde jokes?
• Jack Peaker and Gerrit de Leeuw suggest this week´s websites

Elsie Ayer also remembers the Depression years:

THE WONDERFUL NEW GYM SHOES

I was in the fourth grade at Irving Elementary School in south Minneapolis. It was wintertime, which I loved with the snow, ice, and cold that led to sledding and building snowmen for the kids. It was still Depression times, when parents worried a lot vocally as to how to pay the mounting coal bills. The kids, as kids will do, had a good time.

Sometime in December or January, our grade school teacher, Mrs. Burns, who also taught gym class twice a week, told the girls that we needed white high-top gym shoes so that we would not scuff up the varnished gym floors.

Any plea for money for school needs produced near hysteria on the part of my mother. Anything that cost even 50 cents received the reply in horror, ³Fifty cents! What do they think we are, millionaires?² Of course, we kids didnıt know until we were adults that every other household was in the same boat.

My ingenious father, who was one of the few men of our relations that had a full-time paid job, always had an angle when it came to needs of ³the kid² (me). He worked as a janitor at the Roanoke Building for the princely sum of $100 per month, which for that time was big bucks.

I have no idea where my father got my black leather high-top men´s boxer shoes; I only know that for a short time when he was young he had tried to train as a boxer in some gym in St. Paul. To go on with my story, the shoes fit just fine and my father was very pleased with himself.

However, carrying those precious shoes to class twice a week and then rolling up my long underwear at school to get those shoes on became a project. That was all right, but the painful part was the taunting and screams of delight of my classmates. I so wanted to chuck those shoes in the nearest snowbank on the way home and tell my parents that I had lost them somewhere.

In todayıs world, shoes that look like menıs black leather gym shoes are worn proudly by young women and cost over one hundred dollars. But that is now and my shoes were then. No kid of any era wants to stand out, especially when I already had long curls down to my waist which had to be rolled up in rags nightly.

My memory is dim as to how many girls got the suggested gym shoes. Back then we all tried to do what the teacher told us to do and never questioned authority. It seems to me that one or two girls got the shoes and they were ministerıs daughters. These were considered rich kids as their father got a free parsonage and did not have to pay rent.

I canıt recall what happened to those hateful shoes. I must have cried enough and absolutely refused to wear them. I canıt recall. I only know that when I see models in the Sunday New York Times magazine section sporting these high-top black leather gym shoes, I think I had a pair of shoes like that when I was just a kid in grade school. I guess I was always ahead of the times but never knew it.

Geoff Goodship writes about

OUR GROWING UP YEARS

I´ve enjoyed the stories of your childhood. They carry strong memories for me ... I too picked berries (and beans and other crops) in the summer heat, and I too cherished the first bike I purchased with paper route money. In hindsight, we too were poor, but it mattered very little for we didnıt miss things we didnıt imagine. I had brothers and sister and always knew that I had a place in our family. Our parents provided stability and we never went to bed hungry, unless of course we did something really bad.

Our three children, and especially our grandchildren, have things and do things that we never dreamt of, but even if I could, I would not change places with them. We grew up in more certain times. We expected less and appreciated what we had more than seems evident today. I wonder if our grandchildren will be able to climb yet another notch on the economic pole to provide ever more for their own children.

During this summer I plan to revisit my old family home, which is now being restored as a heritage house. I hope to take at least one of my children with me so they will perhaps understand more than they do now.

Bill McNair, reminded by my comparing the poem "The Man from Marble Bar" with one by Robert Service, sends this story about that well-known poet:

THE CREMATION OF SAM McGEE

Robert W. Service, a Canadian poet and novelist, was known for his ballads of the Yukon. He wrote this narrative poem, which is an outstanding example of how sensory stimuli are emphasized and it has a surprise ending.

Robert William Service was born in Preston, England, on January 16, 1874. He emigrated to Canada at the age of twenty, in 1894, and settled for a short time on Vancouver Island. He was employed by the Canadian Bank of Commerce in Victoria, B.C., and was later transferred to Whitehorse, and then to Dawson in the Yukon. In all, he spent eight years in the Yukon and saw and experienced the difficult times of the miners, trappers, and hunters that he has presented to us in verse.

During the Balkan War of 1912-13, Service was a war correspondent to the Toronto Star. He served this paper in the same capacity during World War I, also serving two years as an ambulance driver in the Canadian Army medical corps. He returned to Victoria for a time during World War II, but later lived in retirement on the French Riviera, where he died on September 14, 1958, in Monte Carlo.

Sam McGee was a real person, a customer at the Bank of Commerce where Service worked. The Alice May was a real boat, the Olive May, a derelict on Lake Laberge.

Anyone who has experienced the bitterness of cold weather and what it can do to a man will empathize with Sam McGee´s feelings as expressed by Robert Service in "The Cremation of Sam McGee":

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm,
In the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said:
"Please close that door.
It´s fine in here, but I greatly fear
You´ll let in the cold and storm;
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee,
It´s the first time I´ve been warm."

Ed. Note: If you´d like to refresh your memory of this poem, it can be found in its entirety on the net using google.

Jack Peaker sends this letter, which we have read before, or one like it:

HARVEY´S LETTER FROM SUMMER CAMP

Dear Mom and Dad,

Our Scoutmaster told us to write to our parents in case you saw the flood on TV and are worried. We are okay. Only one of our tents and 2 sleeping bags got washed away. Luckily, none of us got drowned because we were all up on the mountain looking for Adam when it happened.

Oh yes, please call Adam´s mother and tell her he is okay. He can´t write because of the cast. I got to ride in one of the search and rescue jeeps. It was neat. We never would have found Adam in the dark if it hadn´t been for the lightning.

Scoutmaster Keith got mad at Adam for going on a hike alone without telling anyone. Adam said he did tell him, but it was during the fire so he probably didn´t hear him. Did you know that if you put gas on a fire, the gas will blow up? The wet wood didn´t burn, but one of the tents did and also some of our clothes. Mathew is going to look weird until his hair grows back.

We will be home on Saturday if Scoutmaster Keith gets the bus fixed. It wasn´t his fault about the wreck. The brakes worked okay when we left. Scoutmaster Keith said that with a bus that old you have to expect something to break down; that´s probably why he can´t get insurance. We think it´s a neat bus.

He doesn´t care if we get it dirty, and if it´s hot, sometimes he lets us ride on the fenders. It gets pretty hot with 45 people in a bus. He let us take turns riding in the trailer until the highway patrolman stopped and talked to us. Scoutmaster Keith is a neat guy. Don´t worry, he is a good driver. In fact, he is teaching Jessie how to drive on the mountain roads where there isn´t any traffic. All we ever see up there are logging trucks.

This morning all of the guys were diving off the rocks and swimming out in the lake. Scoutmaster Keith wouldn´t let me because I can´t swim, and Adam was afraid he would sink because of his cast, so he let us take the canoe across the lake. It was great. You can still see some of the trees under the water from the flood. Scoutmaster Keith isn´t crabby like some scoutmasters. He didn´t even get mad about the life jackets. He has to spend a lot of time working on the bus so we are trying not to cause him any trouble.

Guess what? We have all passed our first aid merit badges. When Andrew dived into the lake and cut his arm, we got to see how a tourniquet works. Steven and I threw up, but Scoutmaster Keith said it probably was just food poisoning from the leftover chicken. He said they got sick that way with food they ate in prison. I´m so glad he got out and became our scoutmaster.

He said he sure figured out how to get things done better while he was doing his time. By the way, what is a pedal-file?

I have to go now. We are going to town to mail our letters and buy some more beer.

Don´t worry about anything. We are fine.

Love, Harvey

Sharon Graham forwards this story of

A SENIOR MOMENT

A very self-important college freshman attending a recent football game, took it upon himself to explain to a senior citizen sitting next to him why it was impossible for the older generation to understand his generation.

"You grew up in a different world, actually an almost primitive one," the student said, loud enough for many of those nearby to hear.

"The young people of today grew up with television, jet planes, space travel, man walking on the moon, our spaceships have visited Mars. We have nuclear energy, electric and hydrogen cars, computers with light-speed processing, and..." pausing to take another drink of beer...

The senior took advantage of the break in the student´s litany and said,

"You´re right, son. We didn´t have those things when we were young ... so we invented them.

"Now, you arrogant little bastard, what are you doing for the next generation?"

Don Henderson forwards these suggestions for

BUMPER STICKERS WE´D LIKE TO SEE

Jesus loves you ... but everyone else thinks you are an ass.

Impotence: Nature´s way of saying "No hard feelings."

Everyone has a photographic memory ... some just don´t have any film.

Your ridiculous little opinion has been noted.

I used to have a handle on life, but it broke off.

WANTED: Meaningful overnight relationship.

Some people just don´t know how to drive ... I call these people "Everybody But Me"

Heart attacks: God´s revenge for eating His animal friends.

Don´t like my driving? Then quit watching me.

If you can read this, I can slam on my brakes and sue you.

Some people are only alive because it is illegal to shoot them.

Try not to let your mind wander ... It is too small and fragile to be out by itself.

Hang up and drive! (Ed.: Amen to this one!)

Gerrit de Leeuw tells the tale of

A WISE DECISION

After being married 25 years, one day I took a look at my wife and said, "Honey, do you realize that 25 years ago, I had a cheap apartment, a cheap car, slept on a sofa bed and watched a 10-inch black-and-white TV, but I got to sleep every night with a hot 25-year-old blonde.

"Now, we have a nice house, nice car, big bed, and plasma screen TV, but I´m sleeping with a 50-year-old woman. It seems to me that you are not holding up your side of things."

Now my wife is a very reasonable woman. She told me to go out and find a hot 25-year-old blonde, and she would make sure that I would once again be living in a cheap apartment, driving a cheap car, sleeping on a sofa bed....

I shut up and took out the trash..

Bruce Galway writes: Okay, Okay, it *finally* all makes sense now.... I never looked at it this way before:

MEN ARE THE PROBLEM

MENtal illness

MENstrual cramps

MENtal breakdown

MENopause

GUYnocologist

And when we have REAL trouble, it´s a HISterectomy.

Ever notice how all of women´s problems start with MEN?

Send this to all the women you know to brighten their day. Send this to all the men just to annoy them....

Kate Brookfield posted this note about

HOW TO GET TO HEAVEN

I was testing the children in my Sunday school class to see if they understood the concept of getting to heaven. I asked them, "If I sold my house and my car, had a big garage sale, and gave all my money to the church, would that get me into Heaven?"

"NO!" the children answered.

"If I cleaned the church every day, mowed the yard, and kept everything neat and tidy, would that get me into Heaven?"

Again, the answer was, "NO!"

By now I was starting to smile. Hey, this was fun!

"Well, then, if I was kind to animals, and gave candy to all the children, and loved my husband, would that get me into Heaven?" I asked them again.

Again, they all answered, "NO!"

I was just bursting with pride for them. "Well," I continued, "then how can I get into Heaven?"

A five-year-old boy shouted out, "YOU GOTTA BE DEAD."

Carol Shoemaker believes that

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW ...

How to fall in love without losing herself; how to quit a job, break up with a lover, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship;

When to try harder and when to walk away;

That she can´t change the length of her calves, the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents;

That her childhood may not have been perfect, but it´s over;

What she would and wouldn´t do for love;

How to live alone, even if she doesn´t like it;

Whom she can trust, whom she can´t, and why she shouldn´t take it personally;

Where to go, be it to her best friend´s kitchen table, or a charming inn in the woods when her soul needs soothing;

What she can and can´t accomplish in a day ... a month ... and a year.

Burke Dykes seems to have an endless supply of blonde jokes:

MORE BLONDES

Blondes vs Football

A guy took his blonde girlfriend to her first football game. They had great seats right behind their team´s bench. After the game, he asked her how she liked the experience. "Oh, I really liked it," she replied, "especially the tight pants and all the big muscles, but I just couldn´t understand why they were killing each other over 25 cents." Dumbfounded, her date asked, "What do you mean?" "Well, they flipped a coin, one team got it and then for the rest of the game, all they kept screaming was: ´Get the quarterback! Get the quarterback!´ I´m like ... helloooooo? It´s only 25 cents!"

Car Trouble

A blonde pushes her BMW into a gas station. She tells the mechanic it died. After he works on it for a few minutes, it is idling smoothly. She says, "What´s the story?" He replies, "Just crap in the carburetor." She asks, "How often do I have to do that?"

Speeding Ticket

A police officer stops a blonde for speeding and asks her very nicely if he could see her license. She replies in a huff, "I wish you guys would get your act together. Just yesterday you take away my license and then today you expect me to show it to you!"

River Walk

There´s this blonde out for a walk. She comes to a river and sees another blonde on the opposite bank. "Yoo-hoo!" she shouts, "how can I get to the other side?" The second blonde looks up the river then down the river and shouts back, "You ARE on the other side."

At the Doctor´s Office

A gorgeous young redhead goes into the doctor´s office and said that her body hurt wherever she touched it. "Impossible!" says the doctor. "Show me." The redhead took her finger, pushed on her left breast and screamed, then she pushed her elbow and screamed even more. She pushed her knee and screamed; likewise she pushed her ankle and screamed. Everywhere she touched made her scream. The doctor said, "You´re not really a redhead, are you?" "Well, no," she said, "I´m actually a blonde." "I thought so," the doctor said. "Your finger is broken."

Finally, the Blonde Joke to End all Blonde Jokes!

A girl was visiting her blonde friend, who had acquired two new dogs, and asked her what their names were. The blonde responded by saying that one was named Rolex and one was named Timex. Her friend said, "Whoever heard of someone naming dogs like that?" "HELLLOOOOOOO..." answered the blonde. "They´re watch dogs!"

THIS WEEK´S WEBSITES

Jack Peaker suggests these websites:

Scotland: http://www.scottishradiance.com/puzzle/puzzle09.htm

Britain: http://www.collectbritain.co.uk/collections/illuminated/

Draw Program: http://www.gliffy.com/

Books: http://worldebookfair.com/

Pinhole Camera: http://www.pinholeday.org/support/

Talking Animals: http://www.jealousanimals.com

Game Speed Adjuster: http://snipurl.com/t05q

Gerrit de Leeuw asks how well you know your Canadian history. Find out here:

http://tinyurl.com/9jgw8

You can also read this newsletter online at http://members.shaw.ca/vjsansum/index.htm and http://www.nw-seniorsonline.org/stories.html

"If I had known I was going to live this long, I´d have taken better care of myself."