---

IN THIS ISSUE

• Louise Kruithof concludes her story of a momentous meeting
• We have a number of letters on a variety of subjects
• Tom Kyle tells a story about his Scottish father´s visit
• Betty Brightwell´ sends a story of one grandmother´s ingenuity
• Gerrit de Leeuw forwards the tale of Wee Murray
• Sites are suggested by Carol Hansen, Dick Monaghan, Jack Peaker, Kate Brookfield, and Tom Williamson

Louise Kruithof concludes her story of a long trip

FROM CHINA TO LONDON

After the final call for visitors to leave the train, my husband, Hongcai and Charlie left. My husband got a kiss and a hug, the other two a wave and a thank you - i.e., the usual scene at a railway station.

The compartment was actually quite decent. There were short curtains, like valances, in all the windows, including the ones in the hallway. As the train was leaving, the two younger men in the compartment left and the man who arrived last was sitting on the other lower berth and trying to speak to me in halting English. By now, the Chinese turn of phrases was not such a mystery to me and we had a sort of conversation. The general questions: Where do you come from? Where are you going? Are you really by yourself? How old are you? Do you like China? And so on.

Next, he pulled out his cell phone and called someone and started talking about this foreigner who came from Canada, was very old, was travelling alone, and did not seem to be scared. Ha!

In the meanwhile, I was looking at my surroundings. I was pleasantly surprised by what I saw. The very clean curtains in the window, and on the bed, clean sheets still folded, a feather comforter already in a clean cover, also folded over, and a pillow case with embroidery. What luxury!

I took my book out and started reading, not knowing at what time people went to sleep. The young ones finally came back and each went up into his own berth. The one diagonally up from me took his clothes off to his underwear, crawled under the comforter, and shortly started to snore. Hummmm. Just like home!

The one who was sleeping above me was reading. At 10 o´clock, then 10:30, then 11 o´clock he was still reading and the main light of the compartment was still on so that it was difficult for me to sleep. Finally, at midnight, he decided to leave the compartment and when he came back, he turned the main light off, climbed above me, turned off his reading light and guess what - he started ... snoring! The other man, the one on the lower berth, had already been snoring for a good hour and quite loudly, I must say. I couldn´t help it - I start chuckling! It was like a concert, well orchestrated on a 1-2-3 tempo. Picture this: across from me, one man was snoring very loudly; above this one, another snoring and moving constantly; above me, another one snoring also. What a night!

Meanwhile, I was trying to call my husband to let him know that everything was fine but my cell phone just would not work. (I realized once I was in Beijing that I had run out of time on the SIM card in my phone). So I covered myself with the comforter and tried to rest. Not much sleep on this night as you may have guessed.

At 5:45 next morning there was a knock on the door to the compartment. I opened it and who was there but the gentleman who had been asked the night before to please look after me once in Beijing. Whow! He took my suitcase and as soon as the train stopped he indicated that I should follow him. I did. He was taking me on what felt like a very long walk because I had no clue as to where he was taking me and all the signs were in Chinese and he was walking too fast for me to read them. I was and still am just learning the language!

After 10 minutes or so, he went into a tunnel and I followed. I did not have a choice: he had my suitcase! At the end was another tunnel with taxi after taxi waiting to pick up riders. He got me a taxi, told the driver to take me to the airport, and said something akin to good bye. I thanked him wholeheartedly. Had he not been there, it would have taken me hours to find my way to a taxi!

He had told the driver to take me to the airport but had not told the driver which terminal. The driver asked and I told him that it was terminal 3. About 45 minutes later, we finally got to the airport and at the right terminal. Things were looking up!

The new terminal 3, which was built to accommodate all the travellers expected for the Olympics, is very large and quite pleasant, but an airport terminal is an airport terminal. It was also a new terminal, and somewhere I had learned that newer international terminals sometimes had rooms that could be rented for a few hours by weary travellers. I was a very weary traveller, so I asked at an information kiosk if there was such a facility here. No one seemed to know what I was asking for, so to the next information kiosk I went and there, one of the ladies spoke a bit more English. She called someone and then told me to go downstairs where the rooms were. To the elevator and downstairs I went.

Remember: not much sleep last night! I looked for this facility, couldn´t find it, and asked one of the cleaning ladies, who showed me where they were. Before I removed myself to the private room to catch a wink or two, I tried to call my husband. I asked an information clerk who was walking around if she could please point me to a public phone so I could call my husband, who was dutifully at work in Luoyang. She offered me the use of her personal cell phone. I explained to her that it would be a long distance call and she said that was fine and handed me her phone. I called hubby to tell him that I had made it to the airport and everything was fine. His comment: "Yes, I know." "How do you know?" I asked. Answer: "The man called the driver, Charlie, to tell him that he had taken you to a taxi to the airport."

So now to these famous rooms. Yes, you could have a room; for how long? I had four hours until the plane left so I asked for two and a half hours, paid in advance, and was shown to the room. Again, a pleasant surprise. Very compact room with a bed, the ubiquitous TV set, and a bathroom with shower. After a quick shower, I set the clock to wake up on time and off to sleep I went. After two and a half hours, someone from the desk called to wake me up and off I went back upstairs to check in for my flight to London.

When I got to the Air China desk, a lady in an Air China uniform approached me, asked me which country I was from, where had I been in China, where was I going, and would I be willing to meet with one of "our leaders". In exchange, she would upgrade my ticket to business class. Who would refuse such an offer? certainly not me! An upgrade meant a slightly better seat, more leg room, and hopefully better food. So I agreed.

She took my passport and my electronic ticket and I was keeping a watchful eye on her. She went to another counter, talked to someone and came back to me with the passport and the electronic ticket and invited me to go with her to the business class counter. Long discussion, a phone call, and then they proceed to get me a boarding pass. We chatted for a few minutes and when I complimented her on her mastery of the English language, she told me that she had lived in Canada, in Montreal, while pursuing a Masters in business administration at McGill University. She was now in charge of public relations for the airline.

We were waiting for this "leader" to arrive when there was a bit of a commotion happening not too far away.

She asked that I please talk to the lady over the counter. I turned to the lady and all of a sudden there were what looked like hundreds of photographers and videographers all over, some jumping on the counters, some on their knees, so I turned around to see what was happening. There, standing in front of me, was ... the President of China, Hu Jintao. I knew who it was because in China his photo was in the newspapers just about every day and on television just as often.

I quickly recovered, shook hands, and we chatted for a few minutes about China: Did I like China? What did I think of the new airport? and a few other mundane topics. The lady who had first approached me did the translation. After a few minutes, someone invited him to move on so we shook hands again and said, "Nice to have met you."

I found a phone and called my hubby to tell him of the happening but he was not answering his cell phone. I called his co-worker, Hongcai, who answered his phone, and I told him about the encounter. He was all excited that he knew someone who had shaken hands with the President and promised to tell my husband. I went to the departure gate.

When I reached the door of the plane, I was directed to the upstairs area. Surprise, surprise: this was the first-class area, the upstairs in a 747 plane. A grand total of four passengers were up there for the flight to London, and that included me. Very comfortable seats, very attentive stewardesses, good food all the way to London.

Once at Heathrow, I found a taxi to go and meet my new granddaughter, who is absolutely beautiful. After one week, I returned to China. The voyage in first class was so nice that I enquired about the cost of upgrading my ticket and was told that the cost was 1000 pounds. Way above my means, and where was this president when I needed him? My return journey was in coach. Not a bad flight, everything considered.

Back in Beijing, I now had to find a flight to Luoyang or to the closest airport that would depart the same day I had arrived. I found one, to Zhenzhou departing in three hours. I called hubby to let him know that I was back in China and taking the plane to Zhenzhou. He told me that Hongcai was also going back to Luoyang that day and that a driver would be picking him up at Zhenzhou airport. After a few phone calls, I got the time of arrival of Hongcai. I waited for him to get there and we got in the same taxi to get back to Luoyang. At 10:00 at night, I was finally back at the hotel and was delighted to get some sleep.

Next day, I received a phone call from the dean of foreign languages at the local university and was offered a job teaching a summer class for advanced students of the English language. That became a very pleasant way to spend the rest of my time in this city. To crown all this, in the fall I received an e-mail offering me another advanced class, this time for the students in the faculty of medicine of the same university. That was very flattering!

CORRESPONDENCE

Thank you to all who wrote this week. It is a delight to get so many comments, and on various subjects. It tells me you are reading other things besides the jokes. ;)

Anne Rahamut writes: I had to look up your term, "Oxford comma." I highly recommend to all readers that they access Wikipedia´s discussion on Oxford commas. It´s hilarious.

ED. NOTE: I especially like the quote from Lynne Truss in her best- selling book about grammar: Eats, Shoots & Leaves: "There are people who embrace the Oxford comma, and people who don´t, and I´ll just say this, never get between these people when drink has been taken."

Betty Brightwell writes: I really wish you hadn´t introduced me to the Oxford comma! It will drive me nuts every time I list a few things in a piece of writing.

P.S.: At UBC, I spent two summers working at the North Van Ship Repair - one in the office, the other as an electrician´s helper working on a new warship. I´ll cruise through my computer and hopefully come up with what I wrote once long ago about that fun time for a student.

ED. NOTE: I am looking forward to Betty´s reminiscences, and hope her example will prompt other readers to tell their stories too.

Carol Shoemaker has a sharper eye than a spell checker: "Jack Peaker sends the URL for a fast and easy online dictinary...." (and I see you put it to good use - LOL!)

ED. NOTE: Even after I read her note I missed the typo in dictionary!

Hugh Doherty: A personal note to tell you how much I enjoyed your accounts of your careers as a journeyman printer. They took me back to my early days as a print journalist, when hot type was still the standard.

My first job at a newspaper was in 1952 when I was 18 years old. My grandfather, who was day editor at the Montreal Gazette then, wangled a summer proofreader´s position for me, and that brought me into my first contact with the "back shop" of a hot-type daily newspaper. Proofreaders sat at desks right in the production department, surrounded by the Linotypes and compositors. Surrounded, too, by the noise, the heat and the fumes. I was almost immediately entranced by this unwholesome atmosphere, and marvelled at the casual skill of the Linotype operators and compositors as newspaper pages took shape from thousands of lines of lead type. The kind of skill you developed.

I went from there to reporting and editing, not becoming a printer per se, but the "back shop" was never far from my various editorial jobs. As an editor, designing and laying out pages over the next 15 years or so, I, too, learned to read type backwards and upside down, standing opposite a compositor in the "back shop" as he or she assembled the pages I had designed.

When I was editor of the Sherbrooke Daily Record, I was in some demand as a speaker at local service clubs and other such organizations. For several years (until I exhausted the subject), these folk wanted to hear about how a newspaper was produced. So I travelled about with a cast lead cylinder from our old rotary press. I carried the cylinder (it was a full cylinder, not a half plate) in one of those old-style leather briefcases, and I would whip this out at the beginning of my spiel, hold it up and say something like: "Here´s a page from the Record." It was an effective prop.

In 1968, the Record became the first daily newspaper in Canada to convert to "cold type" - photo typesetting and offset printing - and traditional production came to an end. No more poisonous lead fumes, no more clattering Linotypes; the computer revolution had finally come. I was somewhat disconcerted to find out how long it took some other newspapers to make the conversion. When I left the Record later in 1968 to work on the news desk of The Daily Colonist in Victoria, I was back in the "hot-type" atmosphere. I left the Colonist five years later to get into television journalism, and the paper was still using mostly "hot-type" production.

ED. NOTE: I asked Hugh if he would expand this brief outline of his career into a full-length article, but he said he has already written that story - and others - and they are available on the Net. Here is a comprehensive site which covers much more than Hugh´s own story:

Newspaper Museum: http://members.tripod.com/~Hughdoherty/index.htm

Jean Sterling, commenting on the site sent by Don Henderson that promised school photos of "almost every school in the world, dating back to the year dot,": I sure fell for that one! Not a very flattering picture of me, to say the least.

Louise Kruithof got a surprise when she read in my journeyman story about our time in Shawinigan Falls: My life story in very few lines and you will see why today´s story had me giggling.

I was born in Sorel, Quebec, because my parents lived in Berthierville, across the St Lawrence, on a small island which was part of Berthierville. When I was three years old, my parents moved to La Tuque, where my father became the superintendent for the Shawinigan Water and Power Co. for that area. When I was 12 years old, we moved to Cap de la Madeleine and I went to school at the College Marie de l´Incarnation in Trois-Rivieres. That is where I worked towards my B.A. in classical studies and learned Latin and Greek and philosophy and apologetics and physics and chemistry and English and lots of French literature, and of course, mathematics. The college kept sending me to do those math contests which came every year.

My father was born in Shawinigan Falls in 1903. His father had a general store on rue Champlain. Later, he became an alderman for the city. My cousin, Cecile Desilets, was the plant nurse at the CIL plant in Shawinigan. You might have heard of her at some point or other. My godmother was Edith Trudel. She was born in England and came to Canada after marrying my father´s brother after the first war. I know that she was part of a circle of Anglophone ladies who lived in Shawinigan and that they met at least once a week for tea....

Verda Cook had her doubts about the school photo website: I was intrigued by the website which was supposed to contain school photographs. I was dubious that such a site could possibly have photographs of classes from all schools, especially smaller schools. Being very curious, we tapped into this site. The little village school I attended would not have individual photos, only class photos. I entered the information requested, i.e., name of school, location, and year attended. I chose 1947, the year I would have been in grade six. The result was not at all what I wanted and we tried twice, just to be sure we did not make an error somewhere along the line. We were thrown into a site called Mate1.com, which told us there were 18 suggested matches - possible mates for me. I am very happy in my marriage, thank you, and am not looking for a mate....

ED. NOTE: I have just checked the site again, and it still invites me to enter the name of my school and other data. I don´t know what happened when Verda clicked on it. If you have not already checked it, here is the site again:

http://www.worldschoolphotographs.com/wsp/index1.htm

Tom Kyle tells a story about his father:

DAD MEETS THE INK SPOTS

In the early eighties, my parents were visiting us in Winnipeg, from Scotland.

We had an evening out at the International Inn Caberet. The performers were "The Ink Spots" and the show was enjoyed by all.

During the intermission Dad and I went to the washroom, and one of the Ink Spots was there too.

Dad - who was all of 5-foot-four, with a broad Scottish brogue, went over to the 6-plus-foot tall Ink Spot, greeting him with:

"Ah rreally am enjoin´ yer show.... Ye´r aw´ great singers!"

The tall Southerner looked down at my father, a surprised look on his face ... then he turned,opened the door, and called to the other Ink Spots who were standing outside:

"Hey, guys! Come on here - I just found me a Leprechaun!"

Betty Brightwell forwards the story of

GRANDMA´S BIRTH CONTROL PILLS

A doctor who had been seeing an 80-year-old woman for most of her life finally retired.

At her next checkup, the new doctor told her to bring a list of all the medicines that had been prescribed for her. As the young doctor was looking through these, his eyes grew wide as he realized she had a prescription for birth control pills.

"Mrs. Smith, do you realize these are birth control pills?"

"Yes. They help me sleep at night."

"Mrs. Smith, I assure you there is absolutely nothing in these that could possibly help you sleep!"

She reached out and patted the young doctor´s knee.

"Yes, dear, I know that. But every morning, I grind one up and mix it into the glass of orange juice that my 16-year-old granddaughter drinks. And believe me, it helps me sleep at night."

You gotta love Grandmas!

Gerrit de Leeuw sends the story of

WEE MURRAY

The scene is Bishoploch Primary School, Glasgow.

Teacher: "Good morning, children. Today is Thursday, so we´re going to have a history quiz. The pupil who gets the answer right can have Friday and Monday off and not come back to school until Tuesday."

Wee Murray thinks, "Ya beauty! I´m pure dead brilliant at history so I am. This is gonny be a doddle!"

Teacher: "Right, class, who can tell me who said, ´Don´t ask what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.´?"

Wee Murray shoots up his hand, waving furiously in the air.

Teacher looking round, picks Farqhuar-Fauntleroy at the front. "Yes, Farqhuar?"

Farqhuar (in a very English accent): "Yes, miss, the answer is J. F. Kennedy - inauguration speech, 1960."

Teacher: "Very good, Farqhuar. You may stay off Friday and Monday and we will see you back in class on Tuesday."

The next Thursday comes around, and Wee Murray is even more determined.

Teacher: "Who said ´We will fight them on the beaches, we will fight them in the air, we will fight them at sea. But we will never surrender.´?"

Wee Murray´s hand shoots up, arm stiff as a board, shouting, "I know ... I know. Me, miss! Me, miss!"

Teacher looks round and picks Tarquin-Smythe, sitting at the front: "Yes, Tarquin?"

Tarquin (In a very, very posh English accent): "Yes, miss, the answer is Winston Churchill, 1941, Battle of Britain speech.

Teacher: "Very good, Tarquin, you may stay off Friday and Monday and come back to class on Tuesday."

The following Thursday comes around and Wee Murray is hyper. He´s been studying encyclopaedias all week and he´s ready for anything that comes. He´s coiled in his wee chair, dribbling in anticipation.

Teacher: "Who said, ´One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.´?"

Wee Murray´s arm shoots straight in the air, he´s standing on his seat, jumping up and down screaming, "Me, miss! Me, miss! I know, I know! Me, miss! Me, miss, Meeeeee!"

Teacher looks round the class, picks Rupert, sitting at the front: "Yes, Rupert?"

Rupert (In a frightfully, frightfully, ever so plummy English accent): "Yes, miss, that was Neil Armstrong,1969, the first moon landing."

Teacher: "Very good, Rupert. You may stay off Friday and Monday and come back into class on Tuesday."

Wee Murray loses the plot altogether, tips his desk and throws his wee chair at the wall. He starts screaming, "WHERE THE **** DID ALL THESE ENGLISH BASTARDS COME FROM?"

Teacher spins round from the blackboard and shouts: "Who said that?"

Wee Murray grabs his coat and bag and heads for the door, "Bonnie Prince Charlie, Culloden, 1746. See ye on Tuesday, Miss."

SUGGESTED WEBSITES

Just a reminder from Carol Hansen about the world-wide blackout tonight:

http://www.earthhourus.org/faq.php

Dick Monaghan sends this link to a video of a penguin outwitting a pod of killer whales:

http://www.noob.us/miscellaneous/penguin-is-happy-to-be-alive/

Jack Peaker sends some interactive spring flowers at

http://www.procreo.jp/labo/flower_garden.swf

Kate Brookfield forwards this amazing site for a miniature railway exhibit in Hamburg:

http://www.miniatur-wunderland.com/exhibit/video/4-minutes-wunderland/

Tom Williamson suggests this site for a video about integrating digital information with our real-world interactions. Is this the next step for technology?

http://www.ted.com/talks/view/id/481

For everyone in British Columbia who is concerned about the privatization of power generation and the damage done to our rivers:

http://saveourrivers.tv/powerplay_player5.html

In this video a comedian discusses the present spoiled generation:

http://www.flixxy.com/spoiled-generation-comedy.htm