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IN THIS ISSUE

• Kate Brookfield begins a description of their visit to Istanbul
• The editor warns of the vulnerability of confused seniors
• Jack Peaker tells the story of three very different sisters
• We learn the name of the woman who wrote "Winter Is Here"
• Marilyn Magid forwards the tale of an exhausted dog
• Gerrit de Leeuw sends another story about a dog
• Betty Audet reminds us of the drawbacks of exercise
• Betty Fehlhaber and Carol Hansen recommend websites

Kate Brookfield begins a flashback account of

FOUR DAYS IN ISTANBUL IN JANUARY

Istanbul is a fascinating city offering many attractions for all visitors. Although January is perhaps not the best time to visit for sun seekers, it has an advantage with lower rates at hotels and fewer crowds at the tourist sites. You can always warm your hands at the hot chestnut stalls on every street corner. We used to buy roasted chestnuts for hand warmers when I was a kid.

Istanbul is a colourful romantic city of domes and spires set against a background of differing blues of sky and water. Then there is the mass of bright colours in the floral gardens and hanging baskets outside most houses, and balconies overflowing with flowers and plants. Adding to the colourful scene are the stores selling carpets, fabrics, gold ornaments, painted ceramic tiles, trinkets, and food of all description, of course. But this is not a static scene as the main thing affecting all the senses is the hustle and bustle of city life, people, traffic, dogs, cats, all interacting and moving hither and thither. Yet you can turn into a narrow street and it is suddenly quiet and nobody in sight.

The city is situated on the Bosphorus Strait between the Black Sea in the north and the Dardanelles and the Aegean Sea in the south-west. A natural harbour surrounding the peninsula on the European side is known as the Golden Horn. Wherever you are in the city there are always views of water.

Because of its strategic location bridging the continents of Europe and Asia, it has always been important for commerce and diplomacy. Its history and archaeology show that this site has supported human settlement since the copper age in 5500-3500 BC. The origins are lost in legends, but the city of Byzantium is reputed to have been founded by the Greeks in 667 BC. That city was mostly destroyed and extensively rebuilt after the Roman Empire vanquished the Greeks in 196 AD. Byzantium in its turn was conquered by the Ottomans who transformed and rebuilt the city giving it its present day look.

Constantine the Great, the Roman Emperor who adopted Christianity and put a stop to the persecution of Christians in Rome, moved the capital of Rome to this site in 325 AD. The city was renamed Constantinople after his death. When the Catholic Church split over doctrine and on how the date of Easter is calculated, it became the capital of the Byzantine/East Roman Empire from 395 until 1204 and again from 1261 to 1453.

After the wars of the Crusades, the Byzantine Empire was divided between the Republic of Venice and the Latin Empire, and Constantinople was part of the latter from 1204 to 1261. In 1453, the Ottomans conquered the city and it became the centre of the Ottoman Empire until 1923, when the Republic of Turkey was founded.

All these mighty Empires are long gone, but their existence is evident in various places around the modern city. Istanbul is no longer a capital city - the capital of Turkey is Ankara - but remains an important centre of commerce and is the fourth largest city in the world. See the map in my photo collection:

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=hp1hwqr.qg1uocv&x=0&y=wq9r4w

The flight from Stansted in the UK to Ataturk airport took only just over an hour. The usual hectic taxi drive from the airport brought us to our hotel. We found ´The Angel´s Home Hotel´ well recommended on the internet and we were not disappointed. It was a three-star hotel in a renovated traditional Turkish building. A buffet breakfast was part of the daily rate, plus free internet connection.

We also chose it for its convenient location between the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia and within walking distance of other touristic attractions. We were on the third floor at the top of the building in what was classed as the ´penthouse´ rooms. The large room was divided into sleeping and living areas and a balcony. We were given a choice of rooms because of the season, either a view of the Sea of Marmara in the far distance, past a lot of rooftops, or overlooking the Blue Mosque. We chose the latter and stood on the balcony looking at the night scene and finding it hard to believe that we were actually here, looking at this famous view in real time. The sky was clear with lots of stars, and a crescent moon, like the one on the Turkish flag, was shining, while in the circle of light above the dome and minarets of the Blue Mosque, a flock of birds, pigeons or seagulls, was circling and swooping as if it were daytime. A white frost was forming on the red roof below us and even if the birds didn´t want to sleep, we did.

P.S.: I found this site on the web of excellent photos, better than mine, of all the frescoes and mosaics at the Chora Church that impressed me so much. For interested readers:

http://www.pbase.com/dosseman/istanbul_kariye

To be continued.

The editor describes the defrauding of a vulnerable senior:

A CAUTIONARY TALE

Three years ago this January my sister, Nell, broke her hip. From that time on, her physical and mental condition slowly deteriorated, until she needed help with her meals, and wore a medic alert - which she forgot to press after she had fallen. Twice a week I drove to her home forty miles away to take her to lunch and to help with her shopping.

Near the end of summer, her bank manager contacted police to report a suspicious drain on Nell´s account, and a number of nsf cheques. One of Nell´s neighbours had persuaded her to give her the power of attorney, and she had not mentioned these nsf cheques nor any unusual banking activity. The bank manager contacted her and asked why she had the POA - was there no family member who could look after Nell´s finances? The neighbour told her that Nell´s sister lived forty miles away, was older than she, and seldom visited her.

Subsequently, when Nell and I visited the bank manager, I became aware of the extent of the problem.

It seemed that a rug cleaner had offered to clean Nell´s rugs for a year for $1000, and Nell was impressed by how hard he worked. He evidently offered to do other things around her place. He also claimed, many times, that she had not yet paid him, and she signed cheques which she had not written, and also withdrew a total of $6500 in cash from her VISA account, and another $2000 from her bank account, which in one month totalled $19,000. I was unaware of any of this, though Nell had mentioned that she had had her rugs cleaned.

The POA to Nell´s neighbour was revoked and I assumed the responsibility for paying off the VISA advance and for managing Nell´s finances in future. The bank arranged to repay the nsf cheques from one of her investments.

The police became involved, and they knew of other instances where vulnerable seniors had been literally taken to the cleaners by the same man. They asked for all the evidence we had of the fraud, and I turned over to them everything I could find.

It was after all this that Nell´s condition deteriorated to the point where she had to be placed in a home where she could have 24-hour care, and her physical and mental condition have grown slowly but steadily worse. Fortunately, she is now in a home only a few miles from me, and until now I have been taking her out to lunch once a week. However, she has now reached the stage where she can hardly walk, and I am not confident of my ability to keep her from falling, so we will have to be content with picnic meals which I shall take to be eaten somewhere other than the main dining room.

Early this year I received a summons to appear at a trial of the man accused of this fraud, and on Monday of this week I had an interview with a Crown attorney. In the interval, the accused had opted to be tried in front of a High Court judge, so instead of a trial next week, there will be a preliminary hearing in which it will be decided if they have enough evidence to warrant prosecution.

Like everyone else, I had read about seniors falling prey to unscrupulous men who take advantage of their confusion, but I had never expected to encounter it myself. If Nell had not had investments to cover her losses, she would have been in an alarming position, with a large deficit and only two small pensions. She could have been left destitute.

I am telling you about this situation so that you may be aware that this can happen in your own family or to close friends without your being aware of what is happening. Be especially alert if you have people who are becoming confused and forgetful, and who are living alone, because they may be more persuadable than we imagine.

I will let you know the outcome of the preliminary hearing.

Jack Peaker recalls the history of

THE THREE LITTLE SISTERS

Yes - they were all little, but there ended the similarity between Lillian, Annie, and Laura. The Elliott girls indeed went their own ways after leaving Sandy Hill, Ontario.

Lillian, the eldest, timid and quiet, married the outgoing Jack Peaker, and was the only one of the three to have children. While they lived in Mimico, William Oliver Morley was born, and went by the name Morley. Next was John Elliott (Jack), followed by Dorothy.

Ten years after moving to Ottawa, where Jack was employed by the Federal Government, Kenneth Alexander arrived on the scene and joined the Carling Avenue home, with the long verandah on the front and large garden of gorgeous peonies. The government position led to that of Chief of Customs & Excise. (ED: Isn´t that the department that collects the income tax?)

Lillian, my grandmother, was a dutiful mother and though not a cook of renown, was known for her superior tea biscuits. She was also known for her heavy use of salt, which may not have contributed to her longevity. She always wore a beaded black band around her neck.

She was an organist at Saint George´s Anglican Church in Ottawa. Her talented player piano playing added to the enjoyment in a happy and relaxed home atmosphere.Those who were not so talented chose rolls from the pile of player piano rolls and music added to a joyful atmosphere. Years later, Ken could outperform his mother with great piano stylings modelled after his idol, jazz pianist Teddy Wilson.

Her sister Annie, whose feet did not reach the floor when she sat, never married. She was an exceptionally popular spinster and she was always cheerful. Relatives coaxed her to visit them and she was a most helpful visitor. She paid her way by quilting and mending.

On one trip from Toronto to Ottawa with Jack Taylor, who played with the Hamilton Tiger Cats, Aunt Annie was completely unfazed by 90 M.P.H. driving and making the trip on #7 highway in three hours and 10 minutes. Her popularity with the Shermans (Andy had been adopted by the Elliotts) of Mississauga led to them giving her a small house among their homes. Sherman Sand and Gravel had made them a lot of money with the building of the first four-lane highway, the Queen Elizabeth Way.

Laura, the last sister, at 4 feet 8 inches, was entirely different: prim and proper. She married a dentist veteran, Everett Richardson, and was proud to have a husband whose name had the prefix DR. She attended Whitby Ladies´ College, was a devout Christian Scientist, and became a practitioner. Her closest friend, Maude, was the wife of Eric Brown, curator of the National Art Gallery.

Visits with Aunt Laura, though not exactly fun, led to benefits to last a lifetime. Lessons in proper manners, etiquette, and table manners were a major part of visiting their nice home in a refined section of Ottawa.

One nephew, Charlie, son of Jack who lived in Oshawa, was defiant when being taught proper hand shaking and unexpectedly extended his foot. His name may not have appeared in Aunt Laura´s will.

Uncle Vet, dominated by his wife, had little to say during such visits. The poor fellow passed away relatively young with a painful ailment triggered by a host of carbuncles. It was then that Laura, who spoke with a false English accent, left her home and moved, of course, to Victoria, the city of refined English gentry.

When in the course of my work I visited Vancouver Island, it was enjoyable to meet Aunt Laura at the one and only Empress Hotel for afternoon tea, complete with crumpets, scones, and possibly strawberries. On these occasions I got to practice some of the teachings of one of the three little sisters.

"Sandra" writes about the poem

WINTER IS HERE

I was just visiting your website and found the poem "Winter is Here" that my mother wrote a few years ago. I thought you would like to have the author´s name on the poem on your website. Her name is Peggy Knox and she had a website and an inspirational group a few years back and the poem was posted on the site and distributed to her group members for their encouragement. It has circulated around the web and appeared many times - sometimes with her name as author and sometimes with the author omitted. Naturally, the poem means a great deal to me and I´m glad you have it on your site.

Marilyn Magid was the first to send this story, which has been zipping around at the speed of light:

DOG-TIRED

An old, tired-looking dog wandered into the yard. I could tell from his collar and well-fed belly that he had a home. He followed me into the house, down the hall, and fell asleep in a corner.

An hour later, he went to the door, and I let him out.

The next day he was back, resumed his position in the hall, and slept for an hour. This continued for several weeks.

Curious, I pinned a note to his collar: "Every afternoon your dog comes to my house for a nap."

The next day he arrived with a different note pinned to his collar:

"He lives in a home with ten children - he´s trying to catch up on his sleep. Can I come with him tomorrow?"

Another dog story forwarded by Gerrit de Leeuw:

THE TALKING DOG

A young cowboy from Montana goes off to college, but half way through the semester, he has foolishly squandered all his money. He calls home.

"Dad," he says, "you won´t believe what modern education is developing! They actually have a program here in Bozeman that will teach our dog, Ol´ Blue, how to talk!"

"That´s amazing," his Dad says. "How do I get Ol´ Blue in that program?"

"Just send him down here with $1,000," the young cowboy says. "I´ll get him in the course."

So his father sends the dog and $1,000.

About two-thirds through the semester, the money again runs out. The boy calls home.

"So how´s Ol´ Blue doing, son?" his father asks.

"Awesome, Dad, he´s talking up a storm," he says, "but you just won´t believe this - they´ve had such good results they have started to teach the animals how to read!"

Read!" says his father, "No kidding! How do we get Blue in that program?"

"Just send $2,500, and I´ll get him into the class."

The money promptly arrives.

But our hero has a problem. At the end of the year, his father will find out the dog can neither talk nor read. So he shoots the dog.

When he arrives home at the end of the year, his father is all excited. "Where´s Ol´ Blue? I just can´t wait to see him read something and talk!"

"Dad," the boy says, "I have some grim news. Yesterday morning, just before we left to drive home, Ol´ Blue was in the living room, kicked back in the recliner, reading the Wall Street Journal, like he usually does. Then he turned to me and asked, ´So, is your daddy still messing´ around with that little redhead who lives in town?´"

The father exclaimes, "I hope you shot that son of a b&#% before he talks to your Mother!"

"I sure did, Dad!"

"That´s my boy!"

The kid went on to be a successful lawyer.

This thoughts forwarded by Betty Audet are worth repeating:

EXERCISE

Walking can add minutes to your life. This enables you at 85 years old to spend an additional five months in a nursing home at $5000 per month.

My grandmother started walking five miles a day when she was 60. Now she´s 97 years old and we don´t know where she is.

The only reason I would take up exercising is so that I could hear heavy breathing again.

I joined a health club last year, spent about 400 bucks. Haven´t lost a pound. Apparently you have to go there.

I have to exercise early in the morning before my brain figures out what I´m doing.

I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me.

I have flabby thighs, but fortunately my stomach covers them.

The advantage of exercising every day is that you die healthier.

If you are going to try cross-country skiing, start with a small country.

You could run this over to your friends but why not just e-mail it to them!

SUGGESTED WEBSITES

Betty Fehlhaber finds this site fascinating:

http://www.wildlands.com/photo_tour/northern_whale_study/northern_whale_study_10.html

Carol Hansen writes: Amy Walker does a little tour of 21 accents in 2 1/2 minutes, from the UK and Ireland to Italy, Germany, Czech Republic, Russia, France, Australia, New Zealand, and around North America:

http://www.metafilter.com/69531/So-where-are-you-from

Have you always wanted to play the piano? Maybe there´s hope for you yet:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0zgQAp7EYw&feature=related

Civilization is a movement, not a condition; it is a voyage, not a harbour. - Arnold Toynbee