Home  >> Stories  >> The Tale Spinner #2018-47

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IN THIS ISSUE

• In this Heroic Story, a girl remembers how to walk
• Brigitte Patheiger writes about old-fashioned ice cube trays
• Barbara Wear forwards a story about two senior travellers
• Catherine Nesbitt shares the plight of a Jewish bookie
• Irene Harvalias sends a story about a concerned farmer
• Here is a collection of notes left for delivery milkmen
• Sites are suggested by Catherine Nesbitt

Claire Martin from Colorado tells about a doctor´s question:

CAN YOU SHOW ME HOW?

My sister-in-law, Marilyn, grew up in Colorado but now lives in Spain. She occasionally returns to visit the U.S. with her two young daughters, Carlin and Kathleen, and her Irish-Spanish husband. In July 2005, she and her family were visiting relatives in Oregon in the USA. The children´s roughhousing got out of hand, and three-year-old Carlin´s femur was fractured.

X-rays at the local emergency room showed what the doctor called a "buckle fracture" on the bone above her knee. It was worse than a hairline crack, but not a bad break. He advised against a cast, which is more of a hazard than a help in that particular situation, with a very young child. He predicted the fracture would heal in 10 days to three weeks, and she´d be walking again in a month.

So for a while, Carlin scooted around on her bottom, like a baby that hasn´t yet mastered a coordinated crawl. She took obvious pleasure in the extra attention. She had the air of a good-natured, legless queen.

As their vacation in the US drew to a close, nearly three weeks had gone by, and Carlin still refused to walk. Marilyn decided to take Carlin back to the hospital. The doctor looked at the X-Rays and talked a bit to Carlin´s parents. Then he asked Carlin what happened.

"I fractured my femur," she said, proud to know such technical terms.

"Can you walk on it?" he asked.

"No!" she said. "That would hurt!"

"Hm," he said. "Can you show me how you USED to walk on it?"

"Sure," Carlin said. She got up and strolled across the room. When she turned around, she wore a peculiar expression of gratification and surprise.

"Now, does that really hurt?" the doctor asked.

"Oh, yes," she said, with a conspiratorial smile. But her face gave her away.

"I think it´s OK for you to walk from now on," the doctor said. So she did, and now was bipedal again.

This situation in this story is dwarfed by the enormous problems many people in our world face today. However, when things get overwhelming, a version of the doctor´s question may be worth remembering. "Can you show me how you used to feel, when you felt optimistic?"

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CORRESPONDENCE

Brigitte Patheiger, referring to an article in last week´s Spinner, writes: I guess I´m older than dirt with my score.... I even have an old metal ice cube tray. I actually saw one online on a used for sale site the other day for $30. I guess it is an "antique" now.

Barbara Wear forwards the story of

THE SENIOR TRAVELLERS

A travel agent looked up from his desk to see an older lady and an older gentleman peering in the shop window at the posters showing the glamorous destinations around the world.

The agent had had a good week and the dejected couple looking in the window gave him a rare feeling of generosity.

He called them into his shop and said, "I know that on your pension you could never hope to have a holiday, so I am sending you off to a fabulous resort at my expense, and I won´t take no for an answer."

He took them inside and asked his secretary to write two flight tickets and book a room in a five-star hotel.

They, as can be expected, gladly accepted, and were on their way.

About a month later the little lady came into his shop.

"And how did you like your holiday?" he asked eagerly.

"The flight was exciting and the room was lovely," she said. "I´ve come to thank you. But one thing puzzled me. Who was that old guy I had to share the room with?"

Catherine Nesbitt tells the story of

THE JEWISH BOOKIE

A Jewish bookie was at the races playing the ponies and losing his shirt.

He noticed a priest step out onto the track and bless the forehead of one of the horses lining up for the fourth race. Lo and behold, that horse - a long shot - won the race.

Next race, as the horses lined up, the priest stepped onto the track. Sure enough, he blessed one of the horses.

The bookie made a beeline for a betting window and placed a small bet on the horse.

Again, even though it was another long shot, the horse won the race.

He collected his winnings, and anxiously waited to see which horse the priest would bless next.

He bet big on it, and it won.

As the races continued the priest kept blessing horses, and each one ended up winning.

The bookie was elated. He made a quick dash to the ATM, withdrew all his savings, and waited for the priest´s blessing that would tell him which horse to bet on.

True to his pattern, the priest stepped onto the track for the last race and blessed the forehead of an old nag that was 100/1. This time the priest blessed the eyes, ears, and hooves of the old nag.

The bookie knew he had a winner and bet every cent he owned on the old nag.

He watched dumbfounded as the old nag pulled up and couldn´t even finish the race.

In a state of shock, the bookie went to the track area where the priest was.

Confronting him, he demanded, ´Father! What happened? All day long you blessed horses and they all won. Then in the last race, the horse you blessed never even had a chance. Now, thanks to you, I´ve lost every cent of my savings!´

The priest nodded wisely and with sympathy. "You are not Catholic are you, my son?"

"No, I´m Jewish."

"That´s the problem," said the priest. "You couldn´t tell the difference between a blessing and last rites."

Irene Harvalias sends a story about

A SMART FARMER

Farmer Jack once lived on a quiet rural highway, but as time went by, the traffic slowly built up, and eventually got so heavy and so fast that his free-range chickens were being run over, at a rate of three to six a week.

So Farmer Jack called the local police station to complain. "You´ve got to do something about all these people driving so fast and killing all my chickens," he said to the local police officer.

"What do you want me to do?" asked the policeman.

"I don´t care, just do something about those crazy drivers!"

So the next day the policeman had the council erect a sign that said: SCHOOL CROSSING.

Three days later Farmer Jack called the policeman and said, "You´ve still got to do something about these drivers. The school crossing-sign seems to make them go even faster!"

So again, they put up a new sign: SLOW: CHILDREN AT PLAY.

That really sped them up. So Farmer Jack called and said, "Your signs are no good. Can I put up my own sign?"

In order to get Farmer Jack off his back the policeman said, "Sure. Put up your own sign." The phone calls to the Police Station stopped, but curiosity got the better of the officer, so he called Farmer Jack, "How is the problem with the speeding drivers? Did you put up your sign?"

"Oh, I sure did, and not one chicken has been killed."

The policeman was really curious and thought he´d better go out and take a look at the sign. He also thought the sign might be something the police could use elsewhere to slow drivers down. So he drove out to Farmer Jack´s house. His jaw dropped the moment he saw the sign:

THE MILKMAN

Those of us who are older may recall when milk was delivered to our doors by a horse and driver. Here is a collection of notes left in milk bottles:

* Dear milkman: I´ve just had a baby, please leave another one.

* Please leave an extra pint of paralysed milk.

* Cancel one pint after the day after today.

* Please don´t leave any more milk. All they do is drink it.

* Milkman, please close the gate behind you because the birds keep pecking the tops off the milk.

* Milkman, please could I have a loaf but not bread today.

* Please cancel milk. I have nothing coming into the house but two sons on the dole.

* Sorry not to have paid your bill before, but my wife had a baby and I´ve been carrying it around in my pocket for weeks.

* Sorry about yesterday´s note, I didn´t mean one egg and a dozen pints, but the other way round.

* When you leave my milk please knock on my bedroom window and wake me because I want you to give me a hand to turn the mattress.

* Please knock. My TV´s broken down and I missed last night´s Coronation Street. If you saw it, will you tell me what happened over a cup of tea?

* My daughter says she wants a milkshake. Do you do it before you deliver or do I have to shake the bottle?

* Please send me a form for cheap milk, for I have a baby two months old and did not know about it until a neighbour told me.

* Please send me details about cheap milk as I am stagnant.

* Milk is needed for the baby. Father is unable to supply it.

* From now on please leave two pints every other day and one pint on the days in between, except Wednesdays and Saturdays when I don´t want any milk.

* My back door is open. Please put milk in fridge, get money out of cup in drawer, and leave change on kitchen table in pence, because we want to play bingo tonight.

* Please leave no milk today. When I say today, I mean tomorrow, for I wrote this note yesterday.

* Milkman, please put the coal on the boiler, let dog out, and put newspaper inside the screen door. P.S. Don´t leave any milk.

* No milk. Please do not leave milk at No. 14 either as he is dead until further notice.

SUGGESTED SITES

Catherine Nesbitt forwards this link to a video of the world´s largest wind vane at the Yukon Transportation Museum:

From the Good News network comes this story of a Canadian couple who spent their holiday helping California wildfire victims:

In this TED talk, Charles Mann asks how will we survive when the population hits 10 billion: