Home  >> Stories  >> The Tale Spinner #2018-11

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IN THIS ISSUE

• Tracy Bassam writes in HeroicStories about her bout with cancer
• Tom Telfer describes one day´s watching skiiers
• We get letters from Carol Dilworth and Jean Sterling
• Catherine Nesbitt forwards an ode to spring
• Here are some Irish jokes for St. Patrick´s Day
• Irene Harvalias sends the story of a Catholic cowboy
• Sites are suggested by Barbara Wear, Jay Sansum, Jean Sterling, and Tom Telfer

Tracy Bassam of Vancouver tells about being told it was

ALL IN MY HEAD

I had Hodgkin´s Disease when I was 20 years old. After being mis-diagnosed for a year (they originally told me it was all in my head), they finally found out what was wrong with me and commenced a year of chemotherapy to deal with it.

The two hardest things I had to do were to tell my boyfriend of two and a half years, and to tell my parents that it was, in fact, cancer that I had. I knew my parents would take it hard but would be very supportive, which they were. But I wasn´t sure about my boyfriend, Dave. He really wasn´t responsible for me at that point and I wasn´t sure how he would feel about taking on this kind of responsibility. I knew I would be limited in my ability to work for the next year and might even be affected in the long term - I might not be able to have children or be scarred or disfigured. So I offered to move back in with my parents. I remember how he swore and said, "Never say that to me again!" Then, together, we phoned my parents and gave them the bad news.

Dave took care of me that year. He called me "barfy skinhead" and would pick me up from the cancer clinic after my chemo sessions. He kept me focused on getting through it and not thinking about the downside. His wonderful sense of humour and perspective made everything seem easier to bear. He asked me to marry him on Christmas eve, two months after I was diagnosed. If you can imagine a very skinny, mostly bald, weak and sickly young woman, that was me. Apparently, my hero could see beyond all of that.

We´ve been married for 11 years now. Dave was, and always will be, my first hero. But having cancer showed me so many heroes. People of all ages and walks of life who bravely faced one of life´s most daunting experiences. One woman who I will never forget talked to me for about a half hour. In that thirty minutes, we shared our trials, me with my chemo, her with her husband´s disease. We laughed about how the prednisone (a steroid given to cancer patients) makes your face puffy and when you lose your hair, you end up looking like a baby. I never learned her name but we hugged each other when we parted.

Having cancer makes you realize how precious other people are. It also made me realize that no matter what I was going through, there is always someone who has it tougher. Having cancer made me very grateful for all of the amazing, terrific people I have in my life. After 12 years in remission, I have my health, a feeling of awe for the world around me, a deep sense of gratitude for all that I have. And most importantly, I still have my hero.

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Tom Telfer writes about

BOLER MOUNTAIN

Every Saturday we tend to go exploring. Today we headed to Boler Mountain in the city of London, Ont., to watch skiing. I have curled for 30 years, but have never tried skiing.

Boler Mountain is not a mountain in the true sense of the word, but it reaches a height of 220 feet. A new chalet offers dining for skiers and spectators.

The first challenge is getting outfitted for hitting the slopes. One must don several layers and decide it you want to buy everything or rent. Gloves, helmets, poles, skis, boots, and goggles are part of the list. Then there is the cost of lessons and the cost of a daily, monthly, or annual pass. One item that controls this hobby is your access to finances.

As a senior, it must be a challenge to get completely geared up and ready to hit the slopes and answer nature calls. I don´t think they allow skis in the loo.

After considering all the obstacles to this sport, my best plan is to order a hot chocolate and sit near a window.

CORRESPONDENCE

I forwarded an article to friends who have dogs which maintained that dogs love the ridiculous voices we use to talk to them. Carol Dilworth wrote in reply:

Cats and dogs are amazing at learning words. And dogs get excited and smile when your voice sounds happy.

I couldn´t say my neighbour´s name Carter in front of my Great Dane because she would only listen to the first three letters and start bouncing around. And she would be attracted to words that rhymed with what she wanted to hear.

My beagle Oscar learned to speak French after a few times of "promenade" to my roommate in an attempt to keep Oscar calm and quiet. . My current dog, a Golden Retriever named Scarlett, doesn´t need words at all. I just put on my shoes….

I´m still trying to accept that I can´t win.

Jean Sterling writes about the Heroic Story in the last issue about the kindness of truckers:

This story reminded me of an incident in my own life. I used to teach homebound students, and until we went to a telephone system, I saw students in their homes and did a lot of driving around the county.

I was driving a little Dodge Omni that had the disconcerting habit of stopping for no apparent reason. Usually it would start up again without a problem. However, this time it didn´t start up, so I was hiking along a rather barren part of Route 1 to find a phone booth. A black lady who had apparently been crabbing stopped and offered me a ride. I remember she had a cute little fellow in the car with her, and I happily accepted her kind offer.

Like in the story, she refused any money, saying that woman-to-woman she wanted to help me out and that I should just pray for her "little man." She said she figured I would have no doubts about her offer as she had her "little man" in the car with her. Funny, but I remember that thought passing through my mind as I climbed into her car.

Catherine Nesbitt forwards this topical poem by Ogden Nash:

SPRING SONG

Listen, buds, it's March twenty-first;
Don't you know enough to burst?
Come on, birds, unlock your throats!
Come on, gardeners, shed your coats!
Come on zephyrs, come on flowers,
Come on grass, and violet showers!

And come on, lambs, in frisking flocks!
Salute the vernal equinox!
Twang the cheerful lute and zither!
Spring is absolutely hither!

Yester eve was dark despair,
With winter, winter, everywhere;
Today, upon the other hand,
'Tis spring throughout this happy land.
Oh, such is Nature's chiaroscuro,
According to the Weather Bureau.

Then giddy-ap, Napoleon! Giddy-ap, Gideon!
The sun has crossed the right meridian!
What though the blasts of Winter sting?
Officially, at least, it's Spring,
And be it far from our desire
To make the Weather Man a liar!

So, blossom, ye parks, with cozy benches,
Occupied by blushing wenches!
Pipe, ye frogs, while swains are sighing,
And furnaces unwept are dying!
Crow, ye cocks, a little bit louder!
Mount, ye sales of paint and powder!
Croon, ye crooner, yet more croonishly!
Shine, Ye moon, a lot more moonishly!

And oh ye brooklets, burst your channels!
And oh ye camphor, greet ye flannels!
And bloom, ye clothesline, bloom with
Where erstwhile squudged the grin galosh!
Ye transit lines, abet our follies
By turning loose your open trolleys!
And ye, ye waking hibernators,
Drain anti-freeze from your radiators!
While ye, ye otherwise useless dove,
Remember, please, to rhyme with love.

Then giddy-ap, Napoleon! Giddy-ap, Gideon!
The sun has crossed the right meridian!
What though the blasts of Winter sting?
Officially, at least, it's Spring!

LAUGH WITH THE IRISH

Paddy was driving down the street in a sweat because he had an important meeting and couldn´t find a parking place. Looking up to heaven he said, "Lord take pity on me. If you find me a parking place I will go to mass every Sunday for the rest of me life and give up me Irish whiskey!"

Miraculously, a parking place appeared. Paddy looked up again and said, "Never mind. I found one."

Paddy was in New York.He was patiently waiting and watching the traffic cop on a busy street crossing. The cop stopped the flow of traffic and shouted, "Okay, pedestrians." Then he´d allow the traffic to pass. He´d done this several times, and Paddy still stood on the sidewalk. After the cop had shouted, "Pedestrians!" for the tenth time, Paddy went over to him and said, "Is it not about time ye let the Catholics across?"

Gallagher opened the morning newspaper and was dumbfounded to read in the obituary column that he had died.

He quickly phoned his best friend, Finney. "Did you see the paper?" asked Gallagher. "They say I died!!"

"Yes, I saw it!" replied Finney."Where are ye callin´ from?"

An Irish priest is driving down to New York and gets stopped for speeding in Connecticut. The state trooper smells alcohol on the priest´s breath and then sees an empty wine bottle on the floor of the car. He says, "Sir, have you been drinking?"

"Just water," says the priest.

The trooper says, "Then why do I smell wine?"

The priest looks at the bottle and says, "Good Lord! He´s done it again!"

Flynn staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy, Paddy. He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Mary.

He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step. As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his rump. A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing especially painful.

Managing not to yell, Flynn sprang up, pulled down his pants, and looked in the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were cut and bleeding. He managed to quietly find a full box of Band-Aids and began putting a Band-Aid as best he could on each place he saw blood. He then hid the now almost empty Band-Aid box and shuffled and stumbled his way to bed.

In the morning, Flynn woke up with searing pain in both his head and butt and Mary staring at him from across the room.

She said, "You were drunk again last night weren´t you?"

Flynn said, "Why you say such a mean thing?"

"Well," Mary said, "it could be the open front door. It could be the broken glass at the bottom of the stairs; it could be the drops of blood trailing through the house; it could be your bloodshot eyes, but mostly ... it´s all those Band-Aids stuck on the hall mirror."

Irene Harvalias forwards this story of

THE BAPTIST COWBOY

A cowboy, who has just moved to Wyoming from Texas, walks into a bar and orders three mugs of Budweiser.

He sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.

The bartender approaches and tells the cowboy, "You know, a mug goes flat after I draw it. It would taste better if you bought one at a time.

The cowboy replies, "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is an Airborne Ranger; the other is a Navy Seal, both serving overseas somewhere. When we all left our home in Texas, we promised that we´d drink this way to remember the days when we drank together. So I´m drinking one beer for each of my brothers and one for myself."

The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.

The cowboy becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way. He orders three mugs and drinks them in turn.

One day, he comes in and only orders two mugs. All the regulars take notice and fall silent.

When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, "I don´t want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss."

The cowboy looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns in his eyes and he laughs. "Oh, no, everybody´s just fine," he explains. "It´s just that my wife and I joined the Baptist Church and I had to quit drinking.

"Hasn´t affected my brothers though."

SUGGESTED WEBSITES

Barbara Wear sends this link to a video of the planned Dynamic Tower in Dubai that will have 80 floors that are able to swivel independently:

Jay Sansum forwards this edition of W5, which investigated car repair fraud in Ontario. Apart from the many advertisements on the site, there is valuable informationi on the number of instances of unnecessary repairs and hundreds of dollars in overcharges:

Jean Sterling sends this link to a video of the motorcycles that plug the streets during Bike Week at Daytona Beach in Florida:

Tom Telfer forwards the URL for a video of giant bubbles made on Stinson Beach near San Francisco:

Tom also sends this link to a video of Zach King doing his amazing digitally-edited sleight-of-hand tricks:

This site discusses the books that profoundly influenced 23 women who spoke at TED lectures. Their reviews of those books may inspire you to read some of them yourself:

In this TED talk, Deanna Van Buren talks about a world without prisons and what it would look like:

CARP has published descriptions of 13 common scams and tells how to avoid them:

From Not All News is Bad comes this story about a woman inventor who has created "Nanowood," a material which could help to save the planet: