---

whew !!!

IN THIS ISSUE

• Carolyn Harris observes bears at first hand in a logging camp
• Betty Audet tells of an unusual holiday in Canada´s far north
• Dick Monaghan comments on high school reunions
• Kinga de Muinck claims that even Dear Abbey was stumped at times
• Bruce Galway´s story stresses the importance of good grammar
• Burke Dykes forwards some snappy one-liners
• So you think you´d like to live in the sunny Okanagan?
• Jack Peaker and Miriam Ockenden suggest interesting websites

Carolyn Harris continues her stories of growing up in an early California logging camp:

THE BLACK BEAR SHOW

There weren´t many other girls our age, so Jo and I ran with a pack of boys. For a time, my mother argued with me to practice my piano lessons, sit with my legs crossed at the ankle, and be home by dark. By summer, she´d trail her fingers through the dust on her piano, she´d given up city dresses for slacks and sensible shoes, and she wasn´t home by dark. The camp store didn´t sell alcohol, but our ´35 Ford soon learned the way to the tavern sixteen miles away.

Shadow, our black toy cocker spaniel, took to following the only family member who had time for her - my brother, Stevie. If I passed a house and saw Shadow on the steps, I knew my brother was bumming dinner or playing with a friend. Just after dark black bears roamed camp, dogs barked, and garbage cans banged against fences. Occasionally, a garage window shattered and we knew a determined bear was looking for an unlocked chest freezer.

Stevie and Shadow were afraid of bears, so they were always home by dark. But I was all grown up - and lucky not to have a mother to tell me to take a bath and go to bed.

When the sun dipped behind the timbertops, Jo and I and our scraggly group shuffled down the dusty road behind the cookhouse toward the pigpens. Flashlights in our pockets, we´d wind through the trees to the clearing, climb a low shed, boost each other to the next roof, then scramble on our bellies across the tarpaper roof to watch the Black Bear Show.

The cookhouse crew kept a simmering car-sized vat of pig slop. Day and night that slop bubbled, rolling cabbage heads, bones, and barley over a flickering blue flame. Once on the roof, we were trapped. Bears wandered from all directions, waiting for their turn at the slop. Beyond the simmering vat, pigs settled down for the night in their own little pig camp, never too concerned about the wandering bears.

Behind the pigpens, near a small spring, a barn/slaughterhouse stood, until three years later, when Stevie and his friend burned it down. My father forgot to warn my little brother about the dangers of smoking in a hayloft.

We´d lie on that scratchy roof, afraid to speak, as bears swatted, growled, and sometimes rolled in a snarling ball, fighting for their turn at that stinking slop.

One night, someone sneezed while a mother bear hooked dinner for her two cubs. The she bear sniffed the air, trotted to our shed, then stood, front legs dangling. Up close, a bear´s head looks big - real big, to an 11-year-old girl, even if she is all grown up. That bear stared at me, then cocked her head and stared at Jo. I smelled rotten bear breath as she sniffed, then thrust her head forward for a better look at Jo. I held my breath and tried to keep my heartbeat quiet so she wouldn´t see me. Finally, she dropped back on all fours and rambled back to her cubs.

Another night, two snarling bears rolled into the leanto beside our rooftop. Nobody moved. Boards flew as bear butts and flying paws knocked the shed to kindling. I remember biting a hole in my lip thinking our shed might collapse and we´d end up in the middle of a bear fight.

When the last bear, usually a thin, foul-smelling, wheezing old thing we named "Old King" wandered back to the woods behind us, we´d search for bear eyes with our flashlights. We´d dangle off the roof while the tallest boy helped us down, then wind back through the pines, still checking for bear eyes. When we spied the yellow light of the cookhouse, someone always yelled, "Bear!" and we´d charge down the road, kicking up red dust, headed for the safety of the cookhouse steps.

To be continued.

Betty Audet writes about a holiday in

THE ARCTIC

Our vacation was spent in a remote corner of Canada, 30 miles north of the Arctic Circle. We flew there in three stages: Toronto to Edmonton on Air Canada, Edmonton to Yellowknife on First Air, and after a night there, from Yellowknife to Bathurst Inlet on a local charter flight. This plane was a four-engine Dash 7, carrying over 26 passengers. It landed on a tiny little strip just large enough for it. The strip had been built with equipment left from the construction of the Dew Line, but is maintained by a more modern bulldozer. The lodge is the best part of a mile from this strip. I was happy to ride on an ATV clutching the back of the owner, an exRCMP, Glen Warner.

The main building of the Bathurst Inlet Lodge was originally a Hudson Bay post. One of the cottages was a Catholic church. There are a number of other cottages for the guests and these were assigned as the guests reached the lodge. Maurice and I had number 5. It had two single beds, two chests, one chair, a washroom, lots of hooks to hang clothing, and a tiny heater that kept us comfortable when it was cool. If you ran the water for a period there was hot water. (Every winter the pipes have to be taken up and reinstalled when the frost is out of the surface. Eighteen inches down is permafrost.) The two curtained windows had substantial shades, for this is the land of the midnight sun.

The dining room, kitchen, lounge, an all-purpose room, bar, and washrooms were located in the main building. There were numerous large couches where we loved to gather and there, or in the all-purpose room, we had evening programmes.

Maurice was the oldest guest, but there was a woman of 84 who still golfs. Several others were approximately my age. One of them was related by marriage to the Fallises of this area, and we had a mutual acquaintance from Ottawa, who summers at Bruce Beach. Except for a much younger couple from New Mexico with a nine-month-old baby, the guests were all retirement age.

The first morning there was a strong wind on the inlet which forced our daily trips to begin with an upstream trip to Swan Lake, a fresh water lake that drains into the outlet of the Burnside River. It proved to be an excellent spot for geological lectures to begin.

The boat, called "the Blue Loo", is named for the convenience at the rear. It is a wide flat-bottomed boat, propelled by two 50-hp outboard motors. It was always accompanied by one or more regular motor boats. On the flat deck were the white plastic chairs we use in our gardens, each over a life jacket.

We all had brown bag lunches, which we made from the ingredients in the all-purpose room, after breakfast. Thermal bags carried hot and cold drinks, and more cookies or muffins to be served after lunch or mid-afternoon.

The daily trips were led by Page Burt, a red-haired, middle-aged, but extremely vigorous biologist. She was originally Texan, came north with groups from Cincinnati, fell in love with the area, immigrated, and now spends every winter in Rankin Intlet, where she trains sled dogs, summers in Bathurst Inlet, and between, does biology surveys for mining companies. She has also written books on Arctic flora.

Temperatures on the daily trips varied immensely, from 4C to 30c. Gear to protect us against mosquitoes, the major pest of the area, and from the cold winds, were stored in the large blue boxes aboard. Telescopes helped to look for birds and animals. The day it rained hard, we remained at the lodge, enjoying slide shows and lectures.

The beaches are stones, varying in size and colour, in each location. The three types were igneous, sedimentary, and metamorphic. The beaches were not flat, but layer after layer rising in slopes. They had to be climbed each time the boat stopped. We moved back and forth to take the easiest route for those of us who did not climb easily. As we climbed, plant life increased, sometimes forcing us to walk on the flowers, which were magnificent. Their season is short, but they make the most of it.

Mountains in the area are not high and generally slope from north to south from the glacial pressures. Sedimentary rocks are turned on their side by this pressure. One of the most interesting spots was Amethyst Cove, on the eastern side of the inlet, where volcanic action heated the rocks to crystalize. Another very interesting beach had very old fossils. It was also a location where there were tent rings left by the Thule, predecesors of the Inuit.

On Saturday evening our boat captain gave us a lesson on old Inuit tools, and younger Inuit modeled the old sealskin clothing; it was a most interesting evening. We were all sorry to leave late Monday afternoon, on the plane that arrived carrying visitors for the following week.

Dick Monaghan writes about attending a

HIGH SCHOOL REUNION

Sass and I went to our high school reunion over the weeked - my 60th, her 62nd. All people wanted to talk about was their ailments. They went on and on, to the point where I could hardly get a word in about my own.

The menu was Tired Turkey and Swiss Gristle. We had two meetings, Saturday night and Sunday. The Saturday night meeting used to include a band and drinks, but there was no dancing this time; you probably couldn´t have heard the music over the clatter of walkers, canes, and wheelchairs.

The oldest attendee was 99, from the class of 1926, two years before I was born. The youngest attendee: probably somebody from the class of 1959. After the 50s, I´m told, no one has the slightest interest in reunions.

Sass and I agree: we were wise to get out of the old home town by the fastest available means. I was wondering why none of our teachers attended, until I realized they´d all be over 100. All in all, though, the reunion was fun, although at this age, you find that some people you thought were alive are dead, and wonderfully, a couple you thought were dead come up to say "howdy".

A USEFUL DEVICE

A man was telling his neighbor, "I just bought a new hearing aid. It cost me four thousand dollars, but it´s state of the art. It´s perfect."

"Really," answered the neighbor. "What kind is it?"

"Twelve-thirty."

Kinga de Muinck forwarded these

LETTERS DEAR ABBY ADMITTED SHE WAS AT A LOSS TO ANSWER

Dear Abby - A couple of women moved in across the hall from me. One is a middle-aged gym teacher and the other is a social worker in her mid twenties. These two women go everywhere together and I´ve never seen a man go into or leave their apartment. Do you think they could be Lebanese?

Dear Abby - What can I do about all the Sex, Nudity, Fowl Language and Violence On My VCR?

Dear Abby - I have a man I can´t trust. He cheats so much, I´m not even sure the baby I´m carrying is his.

Dear Abby - I am a twenty-three-year old liberated woman who has been on the pill for two years. It´s getting expensive and I think my boyfriend should share half the cost, but I don´t know him well enough to discuss money with him.

Dear Abby - I´ve suspected that my husband has been fooling around, and when confronted with the evidence, he denied everything and said it would never happen again.

Dear Abby - I joined the Navy to see the world. I have seen it. Now how do I get out?

Dear Abby - My forty-year-old son has been paying a psychiatrist $50 an hour every week for two and a half years. He must be crazy!

Dear Abby - I was married to Bill for three months and I didn´t know he drank until one night he came home sober.

Dear Abby - My mother is mean and short tempered. I think she is going through mental pause.

Dear Abby - You told some woman whose husband had lost all interest in sex to send him to a doctor. Well, my husband lost all interest in sex and he is a doctor. Now what do I do?

Bruce Galway forwards this story of

A GRAMMATICAL ERROR

Harry is getting along in years and finds that he is unable to perform sexually. He finally goes to his doctor, who tries a few things, but nothing seems to work. So the doctor refers him to an American Indian medicine man.

The medicine man says, "I can cure this." That said, he throws a white powder in a flame, and there is a flash with billowing blue smoke.

Then he says, "This is powerful medicine. You can only use it once a year. All you have to do is say ´123,´ and it shall rise for as long as you wish!"

The guy then asks, "What happens when it´s over, and I don´t want to continue?"

The medicine man replies: "All you or your partner has to say is 1234, and it will go down. But be warned - it will not work again for another year."

Harry rushes home, eager to try out his new powers and prowess.

That night he is ready to surprise Joyce. He showers, shaves, and puts on his most exotic after-shave lotion. He gets into bed, and lying next to her says, "123." He suddenly becomes more aroused than anytime in his life, just as the medicine man had promised.

Joyce, who had been facing away, turns over and asks, "What did you say 123 for?"

And now you know why you should never end a sentence with a preposition.

Burke Dykes forwards these

ONE-LINERS

Love is grand; divorce is a hundred grand.

I am in shape. Round is a shape.

Time may be a great healer, but it´s a lousy beautician.

Conscience is what hurts when everything else feels good.

Talk is cheap because supply exceeds demand.

Politicians and diapers have one thing in common. They should both be changed regularly and for the same reason.

An optimist thinks this is the best possible world. A pessimist fears this is true.

There will always be death and taxes; however, death doesn´t get worse every year.

In just two days, tomorrow will be yesterday.

I am a nutritional overachiever.

I plan on living forever. So far, so good.

Practice safe eating - always use condiments.

It´s frustrating when you know all the answers, but nobody bothers to ask you the questions.

The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right time, but also to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.

Age doesn´t always bring wisdom; sometimes it comes alone.

Life not only begins at forty; it also begins to show.

Gerrit de Leeuw sends us

A WOMAN´S POEM

He didn´t like the casserole,
And he didn´t like my cake.
My biscuits were too hard ...
Not like his mother used to make.

I didn´t perk the coffee right;
He didn´t like the stew;
I didn´t mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.

I pondered for an answer;
I was looking for a clue.
Then I turned around and smacked him ...
Like his mother used to do.

This is a revised version of an older post, but is appropriate at this time:

THE ONLY TRUE DESERT AREA IN CANADA - THE OKANAGAN

May 30th: Just moved to the sunny Okanagan. Now this is the place to live - beautiful sunny days and warm balmy evenings. What a place! It is beautiful. I´ve finally found my home. I love it here.

June 14th: Really heating up. Got to 100 today. Not a problem. Live in an air-conditioned home, drive an air-conditioned car. What a pleasure to see the sun every day like this. I´m turning into a sun worshipper.

June 30th: Had the backyard landscaped with western plants today. Lots of cactus and rocks. What a breeze to maintain. No more mowing lawn for me. Another scorcher today, but I love it here.

July 10th:The temperature hasn´t been below 100 all week. How do people get used to this kind of heat? At least it´s kind of windy though. But getting used to the heat is taking longer than I expected.

July 15th: Fell asleep on the beach. Got 3rd degree burns over 60% of my body. Missed three days of work. What a dumb thing to do. I learned my lesson though. Got to respect the ol´ sun in a climate like this.

July 20th: I missed Lomita (my cat) sneaking into the car when I left this morning. By the time I got to the hot car at noon, Lomita had died and swollen up to the size of a shopping bag and stunk up the upholstery. I learned my lesson though. No more pets in this heat.

July 25th: The wind sucks. It feels like a giant freaking blow dryer! And it´s hot as hell. The home air-conditioner is on the fritz and the A/C repairman charged $200 just to drive by and tell me he needed to order parts.

July 30th: Been sleeping outside on the patio for three nights now. $300,000 house and I can´t even go inside. Why did I ever come here?

Aug. 4th: It´s 115 degrees. Finally got the air-conditioner fixed today. It cost $500 and gets the temperature down to 85. I hate this stupid place.

Aug. 8th: If another wise-ass cracks, "Hot enough for you today?" I´m going to strangle him. Damn heat. By the time I get to work the radiator is boiling over, my clothes are soaking wet, and I smell like baked cat!!

Aug. 9th: Tried to run some errands after work. Wore shorts, and when I sat on the seats in the car, I thought my butt was on fire. I lost two layers of flesh and all the hair on the back of my legs. Now my car smells like burnt hair, fried butt, and baked cat.

Aug. 10th: The weather report might as well be a damn recording. Hot and sunny! Hot and sunny! Hot and sunny! It´s been too hot to do anything for two damn months and the weatherman says it might really warm up next week. Doesn´t it ever rain in this damn desert? Water rationing will be next, so my $1700 worth of cactus will just dry up and blow over. Even the cactus can´t live in this damn heat.

Aug. 14th: Welcome to HELL! Temperature got to 115 today. Forgot to crack the window and blew the windshield out of the car.The installer came to fix it and said, "Hot enough for you today?" My sister had to spend $1500 to bail me out of jail. Freaking Okanagan! What kind of a sick demented idiot would want to live here?

Will write later to let you know how the trial went.

THIS WEEK´S WEBSITES

Jack Peaker forwards these suggestions:

Excel Tutorial: http://www.usd.edu/trio/tut/excel/ Health: http://web.cancernutritioninfo.com/main.cfm?id=1 History: http://www.freeinfosociety.com/site.php?postnum=460

Miriam Ockenden found this site interesting:

http://www.microsoft.com/canada/windowsvista/default.aspx

She recommends this site to brighten your weekend:

http://home.valornet.com/sabruf2/countchr.html

ScamBusters´ suggest this site for six steps to creating strong, memorable passwords, as well as other good password and pass phrase suggestions:

http://www.microsoft.com/athome/security/privacy/password.mspx

"Do not deprive me of my age. I earned it."