Home  >> Stories  >> The Tale Spinner #2016-43

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IN THIS ISSUE

• Maurice Audet begins the story of his time as a prisoner of war
• Jean Sterling writes about Hurricane Matthew
• Burke Dykes tells the tale of a famous musician/singer
• Shirley Conlon forwards a story about a dying nun
• Irene Harvalias sends some thoughts on growing older
• Here are some recommended books you might enjoy
• Sites are suggested by Shirley Conlon and Tom Telfer

Maurice Audet recalls his

FIRST DAYS IN A PRISON CAMP

The morning of December 8, 1941, I was skating on the Soungari River. Manchuria does not have much snow, but the ground freezes early and deep. Returning to my billeting, I was greeted by Japanese officers. "Honourable guest, we have declared war on your country and must protect you." I held a British passport. ´Nuts! That´s what you get for being a colonial.´ They seemed to be in a hurry to save my skin.

I was allowed a bundle of spare clothes, rushed to Supingkai, a town between Mukden and Kirin, and turned over to the commanding officer of a war camp expecting 120 men: Americans, Canadians and Belgians. Women were accommodated nearby. The Japanese used grounds and buildings belonging to a Catholic seminary. Just beyond were an army training camp and air force base for Kami Kaze training.

We were closed in by a ten-foot-high stone wall. A tall, heavy, iron grill swung open for vehicles. A narrow gate between the grill and the guardhouse served pedestrians.

We were divided into four dormitories. One large bedspring was shared by four men, separated by a half-meter thin partition. The length of the bed was 5 1/2 feet. It suited me perfectly, but I felt sorry for the tall fellows.

To avoid problems, a committee of elders was chosen to administer the prisoner side of the operation. One man would speak to the commanding officer, receive orders, and voice our complaints. Everything was written down for the Geneva Convention.

One Belgian had brought with him a few sausages. I suppose he felt ashamed to eat them while others suffered. He offered them as prizes for a song contest on the war camp theme. The result was amazing. We had funny songs for several Saturday night variety shows. I wrote one to make fun of the contest: "My only reason to write a song on the camp is to win a sausage. A long fat sausage, quite long, quite fat, must be worth writing a song for." ("Si je chante la concentration, C´est pour gagner un saucisson. Un soucisson, bien gros, bien long, Cela vaut bien une chanson. Si je chante la concentration, C´est pour gagner un saucisson.") (It was set to the tune of O Christmas Tree). I did not win even a bite or a lick.

For the first weeks, spirits were high. One night, an American stood on a table singing "Pack Up Your Troubles; it won´t be long. We´ll soon be free." However, the capture of Singapore and the rapid advance of the Japanese in the South Pacific quickly dampened the enthusiasm.

Japanese had the same set-up in every camp. The film "Bridge on the River Kwai" illustrates it well. Each morning the flag was raised. We were lined up in a U shape in the yard. The commanding officer stood on a platform and gave his latest version of developments. After the fall of Singapore, we were asked to shout, "Banzai!" three times, arms raised high. Cameras flashed for the benefit of the populace, while the prisoners shouted a medley of Popeye, bull´s eye, byebye, and wanzai, the Chinese opposite of banzai: 10,000 maledictions.

The captain in charge of our camp had an imposing physique: six foot tall, broad shoulders, protruding chest, square head, (could have been shaped by a chain saw.) Strong monkey nose and chin. One day, a prisoner, standing in the hall, was staring at the captain squatted on his chair. "What is it?" I askedl "You know, Maurice, I think monkeys came from the Japs." Evidently the captain was more intelligent than a monkey. At first, he expected trouble. He was disarmed by our compliance to orders.

One morning, the prisoner in charge of hoisting the flag left it at half mast. On his way to the podium, the officer noticed it. He went back in a huff and called our middle man who explained, that, being civilians, we were not familiar with flag hoisting. ´It was a mistake. The flag slipped." The apology was accepted, and the ceremony resumed. But the officer´s usual exhilaration had gone down a few notches.

At night, the dormitories were sometimes rather boisterous. Stentorian snorers were pelted with slippers and shoes. The projectiles did not always hit the bull´s eye. Often, we traded stories in the dark. One night, the central theme seemed to be ´Chinese boys.´ Cooks and servants were called Boys, provided, of course, they were males. Since the stories smelled of outhouses, someone shouted, "Leopold, tell us a story with a moral to it." Leopold was a quiet 72-year-old Canadian, who was later to be released. Without hesitation, Leopold started, "A Chinese boy, carrying a 22-caliber gun, was practicing his aim. After eating its fill on the road, a bird flew up to a wire. The boy aimed and shot. Down came the bird." Silence. "Leopold, is that all?" "Yes!" "But where´s the moral?" "When you eat shit, don´t boast about it." He brought the house down. Lights went on; a guard put an end to bedlam.

To be continued.

CORRESPONDENCE

Jean Sterling, who lives in Florida, writes about

HURRICANE MATTHEW

Well, Matthew has been here and is now gone. We´re lucky to have a son who lives inland, so since we live a block from the Intracoastal Waterway, we went to stay at his house for a couple of days. Before leaving, we put up our hurricane shutters which had been stored in our garage since 2005. (2004 was a VERY bad year for hurricanes.)

Fortunately, Matthew made a slight turn to the east, so things were not nearly as bad as they might have been.

We had no power for a couple of days, but there were power trucks from all over, and they did a great job.

Every house had a big pile of tree debris in front waiting for pick-up. Yesterday two large connected trucks drove down the street and proceeded to pick up the tree stuff. One truck contained a BIG claw thing, and the claw was used to pick up the debris and deposit it in the second truck. The guy operating the claw was a real pro - he picked up almost every crumb of tree stuff. What is interesting is that the trucks had come down from Wisconsin.

I am attaching a picture of our hurricane shutters and the BIG claw thing.

Burke Dykes shares this story about

THE BACK OF TOWN BOY

A grandson of slaves, a boy was born in a poor neighbourhood of New Orleans known as the "Back of Town."

His father abandoned the family when the child was an infant; his mother became a prostitute, and the boy and his sister had to live with their grandmother.

Early in life he proved to be gifted for music and with three other kids he sang in the streets of New Orleans. His first gains were the coins that were thrown to them.

A Jewish family, the Karnofskys, who had immigrated from Lithuania to the USA, took pity on the seven-year-old boy and brought him into their home. Initially given "work" in the house, to feed this hungry child. There he remained and slept in this Jewish family´s home, where for the first time in his life he was treated with kindness and tenderness.

When he went to bed, Mrs. Karnovsky sang him a Russian lullaby that he would sing with her. Later, he learned to sing and play several Russian and Jewish songs. Over time, this boy became the adopted son of this family.

The Karnofskys gave him money to buy his first musical instrument, as was the custom in the Jewish families. They sincerely admired his musical talent. Later, when he became a professional musician and composer, he used these Jewish melodies in compositions, such as "St. James Infirmary" and "Go Down Moses."

The little black boy grew up and wrote a book about the Jewish family who had adopted him in 1907.

In memory of this family and until the end of his life, he wore a Star of David, and said that in this family he had learned "how to live real life and determination."

You might recognize his name. . This little boy was called Louis "Satchmo" Armstrong.

Louis Armstrong proudly spoke fluent Yiddish!

Shirley Conlon sends this story about a

MOTHER SUPERIOR

The wise old Mother Superior from County Tipperary was dying. The nuns gathered around her bed, trying to make her comfortable. They gave her some warm milk to drink, but she refused it. One of the nuns took the glass back to the kitchen. Remembering a bottle of Irish whiskey received as a gift the previous Christmas, she opened it and poured a generous amount into the warm milk.

Back at Mother Superior´s bed, she held the glass to her lips. Mother Superior drank a little, then a little more. Before they knew it, she had drunk the whole glass down to the last drop.

"Mother," the nuns pleaded, "please give us some wisdom before you die."

She raised herself up in bed with a pious look on her face and said: "Don´t sell that cow."

Irene Harvalias forwards these thoughts about

SENIORS

1. My goal for 2016 was to lose just 10 pounds. Only 15 to go!

2. I ate salad for dinner. Mostly croutons and tomatoes. Really just one big round crouton covered with tomato sauce. And cheese. FINE, it was a pizza. I ate a pizza.

3. How to prepare Tofu:
a. Throw it in the trash
b. Grill some meat

4. I just did a week´s worth of cardio after walking into a spider web.

5. I don´t mean to brag, but I finished my 14-day diet food in three hours and 20 minutes.

6. A recent study has found that women who carry a little extra weight live longer than men who mention it.

7. Kids today don´t know how easy they have it. When I was young, I had to walk nine feet through shag carpet to change the TV channel.

8. Senility has been a smooth transition for me.

9. Remember back when we were kids, and every time it was below zero out, they closed school? Me neither.

10. I may not be that funny or athletic or good looking or smart or talented. I forgot where I was going with this.

11. I love being over 70. I learn something new every day and forget five others.

12. A thief broke into my house last night. He started searching for money, so I woke up and searched with him.

13. I think I´ll just put an "Out of Order" sticker on my forehead and call it a day.

14. November 6, 2016, will be the end of Daylight Savings Time. Hope you don´t forget to set your bathroom scale back 10 pounds on Saturday night.

15. Just remember, once you´re over the hill you begin to pick up speed.

These books were recommended to me by someone whose tastes are similar to mine:

RECOMMENDED BOOKS

Tapestry of Fortunes, a novel by Elizabeth Berg

Chestnut Street by Maeve Binchy

The Weird Sisters by Eleanor Brown

Walking across Egypt, a novel by Clyde Edgerton

The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald

The Hurricane Sisters by Dorothea Benton Frank

Charms for the Easy Life by Kaye Gibbons

The Widower´s Tale by Julia Glass

Mrs Queen Takes the Train, a novel by William M. Kuhn

At the Villa of Reduced Circumstances by Alexander McCall Smith

Calling Invisible Women, a novel by Jeanne Ray

Miss Julia Speaks Her Mind, a novel by Ann B. Ross

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer

Friday Nights, a novel by Joanna Trollope

The Paradise Valley Mysteries, Books 1-3, by Debra Burroughs. "Emily Parker acquires her late husband´s private investigation agency - and her first case is his murder! With the help of her friends and a handsome police detective, she struggles to uncover the secret life of the man she thought she knew. A riveting box set."

SUGGESTED WEBSITES

Shirley Conlon sends the URL for a video which describes a new Israeli surgery that can cure illnesses without opening the body and will allow patients to go home the same day as the treatment:

Tom Telfer suggests this video for magician Michael Late´s Austrian-themed magic act which amazed and entertained the judges and audience of Britain´s Got Talent:

Tom also sends the URL for one of the most beautiful and impressive acrobatic acts by the Stars of Beijng´s Circus performed at the French TV show The World´s Greatest Cabaret:

In this moving TED talk, Manwar Ali reflects on his experience with radicalization and makes a powerful, direct appeal to anyone drawn to Islamist groups that claim violence and brutality are noble and virtuous: let go of anger and hatred, he says, and instead cultivate your heart to see goodness, beauty, and truth in others:

The London Natural History Museum has just announced the winners of the 52nd Wildlife Photographer of the Year Awards, and here they are:

Andre Rieu introduces three-year-old violinist, Akim Camara, during his ´Flying Dutchman Concert´ at Parkstad Stadium in the Nederlands. Akim plays Concerto G Major op.11 with the Johan Strauss Orchestra:

This drone photograph of the aftermath of Hurricane Matthew saved the lives of a man and his dog:

In the Samburu Conservancy, a tuskless matriarch elephant shows kindness towards young orphan elephants that are trying to find their way in the Kenyan bush:

Aquaponics is the symbiotic cultivation of plants and fish in a re-circulating system. This community- based urban food center in Milwaukee uses tilapia and perch to fertilize a variety of crops and herbs with this amazing system:

Two elephants are reunited after 20 years when Shirley arrives at a sanctuary:

Wiebke Haas´s amazing horse photography is shown in 21 images at this site:

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