Home  >> Stories  >> The Tale Spinner #2018-20

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IN THIS ISSUE

• Deborah Luper writes about a couple who opened a new world for her
• Burke Dykes recalls a colourful character from his youth
• Barbara Wear shares Bill Gates´ final thoughts
• Catherine Nesbitt forwards some ramblings of an aging mind
• Shirley Conlon sends a story about a ventriloquist and a blonde
• Tom Telfer shares these mixed-up metaphors
• Sites are suggested by Judith English and Kate Brookfield

In this Heroic Story, Deborah Luper of Alaska writes about

OPENING A NEW WORLD

I was raised in the Brooks Range of Alaska, 60 miles north of the Arctic Circle. We lived in a log cabin, drove a team of dogs to get wood in the winter, flew airplanes instead of driving cars, and basked in 24-hour daylight during the short but hot summers. It was a wonderful way to grow up.

That kind of life had disadvantages, of course. We were the only humans for 40 miles, so we got lonely sometimes. We didn´t have refrigeration, so we had to catch dinner during the warmer months - and then we got very tired of fish and rabbit. We also had to watch out for grizzlies and wolves. But between reading, schoolwork, and outdoor adventures, my three younger siblings and I kept ourselves occupied.

The biggest challenge was education. My father decided to home-school us, using Alaska´s correspondence course. He taught me first and second grade, and a teacher on leave taught me half of third grade. My brother and I went to public school in Pennsylvania for a few months the following year. After that I was pretty much on my own, and responsible for teaching my siblings as well.

Things worked well enough until it was time for me to start high school. My family had to decide whether to send me to boarding school, at considerable expense, or move. But then Al and Carol Brice came to the rescue.

The Brices had volunteered to participate in a state program. They agreed to take in a child from "the bush" for the school year, in exchange for a small stipend. They ended up with me, a shy, skinny, 14-year-old Native Alaskan girl with almost no self-confidence. I had grown up without television, friends other than my siblings, or any social training. While I was excited to branch out, I was also deeply afraid others would think I was backward and uneducated.

They welcomed me with loving arms. They housed, clothed and fed me, and even gave me an allowance. They paid for dance and piano lessons, skiing and skating lessons, a family vacation, and much more. Their five children made me feel like a sister.

As a result of that year, I gained the confidence I needed to excel in my studies, and to dream of achieving more. I competed in pageants, earned scholarships, and got a pilot´s license. I attended college, was accepted to law school for a national Indian paralegal program, and went into law enforcement. Eventually, I entered politics, and today count lawmakers and governors among my friends.

By opening their home and hearts, Al and Carol Brice opened the entire world for me. I hope through telling this story to share the depth of my gratitude with them, and to inspire others to reach out to children with challenges.

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Burke Dykes has fond memories of

GORDON

He lived on the farm next to ours, an elderly man always wearing blue white-striped coveralls and a cap to match. We knew little about him other than that he did not have a car. In fact, we heard that he had nothing modern on his small farm. He regularly went into our small town driving his horse-drawn buckboard (a four-wheeled wagon with a forward seat and cargo space behind.) The common name for him was the degrading "Gook," a name that conjured up the image of an uneducated lout, a farmhand.

When I was twelve years old, some of my classmates told me that Gordon was looking to hire several kids to "cut" asparagus on his farm. After some dithering, I walked over to Gordon´s farm. I found him in an open space in front to the barn, raining hammer blows on a white-hot piece of metal. I had seen such an operation a number of times at the blacksmith shop in town. Here a small forge had been set up in a clear space and Gordon was hammering a hot piece of metal into shape on an anvil. He turned, saw me, then returned to his hammering.

I saw that he was a much older man, a lanky, bony body stooped with years of working that farm of his. I expected him to acknowledge me when he had a pause in his work. Waiting, I looked around at the part of the farm that was visible. The barn! What a barn! It was a classic red-painted barn, its face broken by a huge upper opening, obviously a hay loft; I had never seen one at any of the other nearby farms. Flanking the barn were two lean-to sheds built into sides of the barn. The one on the north was closed in, while the south side was completely open, lined with what looked like work benches.

Finally, he turned to look at me. "You looking for work?" "You bet," I stuttered out, surprised at hearing his deep, almost nasal voice. That was the start of a volley of questions: "Can you mow the lawn? Know anything about flowers? Can you get up at dawn and cut asparagus?" My "Yes" followed every question. That day marked the beginning of eight years as his do-it-all handyman.

Gordon was, indeed, caught in a time warp. They had no electricity, no running water, and the only thing from the current century was the gasoline motor on the pump of his horse-drawn spray rig. Gordon had a well which fed two old-fashioned hand pumps, one on the kitchen counter, and another outside with a tin cup attached to it by a chain. Have you ever tried to drink from a metal cup in the dead of an Eastern Washington winter?

In the spring I was up before dawn to walk over to his farm to start cutting asparagus. We had to finish cutting in time for me to catch the school bus. I mowed the lawn when I got back from school, then cleared any weeds out of the flower beds, a job overseen by Gordon´s "Missus." As the seasons passed, I picked apricots, peaches, and cherries. I sorted and wrapped the peaches in squares of flimsy, purple paper before placing them carefully in the wooden crates I had made during the winter.

I cut the field of alfalfa with a horse-drawn cutter rig, let it dry in the hot summer, then hitched the team to a sled, piled the now dry hay on the sled for the trip to the front of the barn, where I hooked up the sling, unhooked the team, went to the other end of the barn, hooked the team to the draw cable and pulled the load of hay up into the hayloft and dropped it there. Everything was done exactly as it would have been done 200 years earlier.

I came to really like old Gordon. He didn´t talk very much but when he did, he had a surprising knowledge of the world around him. Several years after I started working for him he told me he had something to show me. The closed-in shed on the north side of the barn contained decades of old National Geographics, Popular Mechanics, Popular Science magazines all neatly stacked in chronological order. WOW! Those were the magazines that fed my imagination, the magazines I always waited for at the town library, and here years of the cherished magazines were available to me. Gordon would not let me take a lantern into the shed, nor would he let me take any of the magazines home. He brought me an old, handmade chair which was placed just outside the shed door, and there I spent my time when I wasn´t working at his or at other farms. I believe that the most important part of my education came in that shed during the daytime.

We talked about those magazines, and about government, house construction, farming, and our country. There seemed to be little that Gordon was not current on. My early image of Gordon as just another uneducated farmer was shattered. I began telling my buddies at school about Gordon, and many of them became regular workers on his farm. I lost no opportunity to tell people about Gordon, and I hope that many of them began to see the man that I knew.

In time I left Gordon and the farm for the big city, Seattle. With the years, both Gordon and the Missus passed away. Forty years later I drove to the farmland outside of Prosser, hoping to visit Gordon´s old farm, to rekindle the memories of those years. Nothing! Gordon´s entire farm was now one big housing development!

I lost something that day and I still ache for that past whenever I think of it. It was such a simple time. It seems that life is so much more complicated now. I guess that is what we get when we grow up. I think most of us have a yearning for some parts of our past.

Barbara Wear forwards these

IMMORTAL WORDS

Steve Jobs died a billionaire at 56. Here are his last words:

I reached the pinnacle of success in the business world. In some others´ eyes, my life is the epitome of success. However, aside from work, I have little joy. In the end, my wealth is only a fact of life that I am accustomed to.

At this moment, lying on my bed and recalling my life, I realize that all the recognition and wealth that I took so much pride in have paled and become meaningless in the face of my death.

You can employ someone to drive the car for you, or make money for you, but you cannot have someone bear your sickness for you. Material things lost can be found or replaced. But there is one thing that can never be found when it´s lost - Life.

Whichever stage in life you are in right now, with time, you will face the day when the curtain comes down. Treasure love for your family, love for your spouse, love for your friends. Treat yourself well and cherish others.

As we grow older, and hopefully wiser, we realize that a $300 or a $30 watch both tell the same time. You will realize that your true inner happiness does not come from the material things of this world. Whether you fly first class or economy, if the plane goes down - you go down with it.

Therefore, I hope you realize that when you have mates, buddies and old friends, brothers and sisters who you chat with, laugh with, talk with, have sing songs with, talk about north-south- east-west or heaven and earth, that is true happiness!

Don´t educate your children to be rich. Educate them to be happy, so when they grow up they will know the value of things and not the price. Eat your food as your medicine, otherwise you have to eat medicine as your food.

The one who loves you will never leave you for another because even if there are 100 reasons to give up, he or she will find a reason to hold on.

There is a big difference between a human being and being human. Only a few really understand it. You are loved when you are born. You will be loved when you die. In between, you have to manage!

The six best doctors in the world are sunlight, rest, exercise, diet, self confidence, and friends. Maintain them in all stages and enjoy a healthy life.

Catherine Nesbit shares these

RAMBLINGS OF AN OLD MIND

I decided that old age is when you still have something on the ball, but you are just too tired to bounce it.

I thought about making a fitness movie for folks my age and calling it "Pumping Rust."

When people see a cat´s litter box they always say, "Oh, have you got a cat?" Just once I want to say, "No, it´s for company!"

Employment application blanks always ask who is to be called in case of an emergency. I think you should write, "An ambulance."

The older you get the tougher it is to lose weight because by then your body and your fat have become really good friends.

The easiest way to find something lost around the house is to buy a replacement.

Did you ever notice that the Roman numerals for size forty (40) are XL?

The sole purpose of a child´s middle name is so he can tell when he´s really in trouble..

Aging: Eventually you will reach a point when you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it.

Some people try to turn back their "odometers." Not me. I want people to know why I look this way. I´ve traveled a long way and some of the roads weren´t paved.

Ah! Being young is beautiful, but being old is comfortable.

May you always have love to share, cash to spare, and friends who care.

Shirley Conlon sends this story of

THE VETRILOQUIST AND THE BLONDE

A young ventriloquist touring Norway puts on a show in a small fishing town. With his dummy on his knee, he starts going through his usual dumb blonde jokes.

Suddenly, a blonde woman in the fourth row stands up and starts shouting, "I´ve heard enough of your stupid blonde jokes. What makes you think you can stereotype Norwegian blonde women that way? What does the colour of a woman´s hair have to do with her worth as a human being?"

"It´s men like you who keep women like me from being respected at work and in the community, and from reaching our full potential as people. It´s people like you who make others think that all blondes are dumb! You and your kind continue to perpetuate discrimination against not only blondes, but women in general, pathetically all in the name of humour!"

The embarrassed ventriloquist begins to apologize, and the blonde interrupts, yelling, "You stay out of this! I´m talking to that little shit on your lap."

Tom Telfer forwards these gems from a book by Richard Lederer, "Anguished English":

THE BEST OF MIXED-UP METAPHORS

I wouldn´t be caught dead in that movie with a ten-foot pole.

The sacred cows have come home to roost with a vengeance.

She´ll get it by hook or ladder.

The bankers´ pockets are bulging with the sweat of the honest working man.

That´s a very hard blow to swallow.

These hemorrhoids are a real pain in the neck.

The slowdown is accelerating.

That snake in the grass is barking up the wrong tree.

When we get to that bridge, we´ll jump.

Don´t sit there like a sore thumb.

Everyone whose ox has been gored is going to be squealing.

It´s time to swallow the bullet.

It´s time to grab the bull by the tail and look it in the eye.

The budget deficit is an albatross we carry on our back.

The sword of Damocles is hanging over Pandora´s Box.

It´s as easy as falling off a piece of cake.

ED. NOTE: There are more of these to come at a later date!

FROM THE EDITOR´S DESKTOP

This edition is coming to you from Jay´s computer because mine is no longer working. I´m hoping that it will be fixed by next week, but there are no guarantees. I am indebted to Jay for sending this to you, and for buying me a new computer and setting it up.

SUGGESTED SITES

Judith English forwards the URL for the story of WWOOF, a worldwide community that promotes awareness of ecological farming by providing visitors with the opportunity to live and learn on organic properties. There are organic farms in Ontario, Quebec, BC, and Alberta:

Kate Brookfield sends this link to a discussion in the Oxford Dictionary of British animal idioms and expressions, such as "having kittens," and "a cold fish," and "a bear with a sore head:"

To sign the petition to tell Trudeau not to use your tax dollars to write a blank cheque to multi-billion dollar Kinder Morgan to build a dangerous pipeline to the Pacific, click on

This Search Dog Foundation recruits shelter dogs and trains them as search and rescue K-9s. Over the past 22 years, these dogs have saved lives in nearly 170 disasters:

In this Good News story, Tesla´s giant record-breaking battery shows success by saving Australian consumers millions:

In another Good News story, a 90-year-old woman credits playing an online game with her son with saving her life:

This trio at the University of Buffalo have created a device that uses sunlight and black carbon-dipped paper to clean water. The technology could be used in regions without clean drinking water, or in areas affected by natural disasters: