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IN THIS ISSUE

• Bernie Cole remembers his boyhood in England during WWII
• Jean Sterling and Judy Marriott comment on last week´s issue
• Don Henderson sends some observations about golf
• Dick Monaghan explains some facts of life
• Tom Kyle enthuses about an all-purpose website
• Carol Hansen forwards some clean jokes
• Gerrit de Leeuw, Carol Hansen, Nevil Horsfall, Pat Moore, and Tom Williamson suggest sites

Pat Moore forwards a story written by Bernie Cole, who was born in England and now lives in Ontario:

THE NIGHT LINE

When I was young, I spent many hours on the beach watching the waves roll in. The rougher the sea, the more I liked it. The relentless fury filled me with excitement.

I would search the beach at the tide line looking for anything of use. This was during the war and often canned food would get washed up from the ships that had sunk. I had learned that if the can was bloated, then the contents had likely spoiled and I should leave the can where it lay. But sometimes I would find a can that was clean and in good condition.

We were so hungry and the food from those cans tasted so good! I would run home to my mother with my treasure and she would open the cans carefully, as sometimes the food would be edible. One time, I found a large can of peanut butter. That special can lasted a long time.

I didn´t realize at the time that the ships that had been sunk were the very ships striving to bring us food. They had been torpedoed by an enemy bent on starving us into submission.

But I was young and the reality of war hadn´t yet been imprinted in my mind. Britain was at war! I knew that my cousins were fighting in the army and my father was at sea, as he had been all his life. But it still wasn´t real for me.

My world was a small one. I went to school, I worked at the farm across the road, where I helped with the milking before going to school, and I played on the beach. The beach was a sanctuary, an escape. The smell of the salt air and the spray of water on my face gave me the feeling of a connection with a majestic force.

The beach had very high tides, as much as 26 feet from high to low water. I had learned about this, and also how to set a night line to catch fish from an old man. This man, our neighbour, told me that a night line was a simple way of catching fish.

It consisted of a line about 300 feet long with short leader and hooks every six feet (or a fathom). I bought the line and hooks with the bit of money I earned at the farm, and the old man helped me make up my line. He talked as we worked and I was thrilled just to hear him tell his stories of his time at sea.

My line complete, I made my way down to the water´s edge at low tide, laid out the line and carefully staked each end. Then I started to bait each hook with a lug worm that I had previously dug up. I worked fast but as I got to my last hook the tide turned and the sea was lapping at my feet. I stood and watched as the water covered my first night line and wondered why it was called a night line when it would remain there day and night.

I had set my line at 6:00 in the evening and had to return at 5:00 the next morning to see if I had caught any fish. My mother and younger sister were very sceptical of my ability to catch anything. Reluctantly my mother allowed me to use the alarm clock. I set it for 4:30 the following morning. At the sound of the alarm I jumped out of bed, threw on my clothes, ran down the stairs, pulled on my boots and headed out the door. Back then there were no buildings between my house and the sea, just wind-swept dunes. I knew the way by heart.

There was a little light as I made my way to the beach. I ran down to the shore toward the white foam that marked the edge of the receding sea. I stood, barely able to contain my excitement, waiting to see my line uncovered. It seemed I waited forever. Then I saw a movement - could it be - yes, it was a fish on my line! It was a young cod about 18 inches long. I had brought a canvas bag to carry all the fish I had anticipated catching. I took the fish off the hook and put it in the bag, then followed my line looking for more, but there weren´t any more.

My hooks needed more lug worms and I worked frantically to dig them up from the sand to complete the task. The tide crept up the side of my boots before I finished.

The sound of unaccustomed praise rang in my ears when I ran home with my fish and surprised my mother with it before hurrying over to the farm for my morning chores.

At times I cried in frustration at an empty line, or ran around trying to beat away the screaming gulls from the fish on my line, but I kept that night line going through summer and winter for many years.

I can see myself now, standing alone on that beach, hands raw from the salt water and so cold that I could no longer feel them, and I hear the beat of the waves pounding on the shore.

Just a memory from a long ago time but it seems as if it happened yesterday.

Jean Sterling writes: Dick Monaghan´s story [about the Catholic cow] reminds me a bit of my grandmother, who disapproved of drink and called it booze. Well, when Grandma was in her late eighties, my Aunt Ella convinced her that she should have a small glass of wine at night for medicinal purposes and to help her sleep.

A couple of months later my aunt was awakened by somebody bumbling around in the living room. She got up to investigate and found my grandmother with the liquor cabinet open, happily downing some wine. Aunt Ella had to get a lock for the cabinet.

I guess it´s a good thing Grandma never got into "booze" in her younger years - it might have been a real problem.

ED. NOTE: This reminds me of my mother, who never drank until her 70s, when she developed a taste for rum. She would have a nip now and then, and when she had a stroke and fell out of bed, I managed to get her back into it before I called a doctor. She consoled herself with a shot of rum, and when the doctor spoke to me after he examined her, he implied that apart from being drunk, she was okay. He never did acknowledge that her slurred speech was the result of a stroke and not demon rum, though she never spoke clearly again.

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Judy Marriott writes: Pat Moore´s story of her first car brought back memories for me! When we were 14 and 15, there were three of us girls (me, my sister, and our friend) who palled around together all the time.

Well, our friend´s aunt gave her an old car, a convertible, and did we ever have fun! Of course, none of us were old enough to have a license, but we drove that car around and around the apple orchard that separated her house from ours.

We rode for hours in that old orchard - there were so many "lanes", we loved it. Especially after dark! We really liked to ride in that orchard when it was dark - it seemed so mysterious and all! We spent one spring, summer, and fall just riding all over that orchard.

Funny, the owner knew we were in there, but never stopped us. We never hurt anything, we stayed in the lanes. How I would love to go back and take one more ride in that orchard in that convertible!

Alas, the orchard is gone now, our friend is gone too, but oh, the memories are there, and my sister and I can take them out whenever we want to.

Don Henderson, our golf nut ... uh ... enthusiast, forwards this explanation:

GOLF AND WHAT IT ALL MEANS

Golf can best be defined as an endless series of tragedies obscured by the occasional miracle, followed by a good bottle of beer.

Golf! You hit down to make the ball go up. You swing left and the ball goes right. The lowest score wins. And on top of that, the winner buys the drinks.

Golf is harder than baseball. In golf, you have to play your foul balls.

If you find you do not mind playing golf in the rain, the snow, even during a hurricane, here´s a valuable tip: your life is in trouble.

Golfers who try to make everything perfect before taking the shot rarely make a perfect shot.

The term "mulligan" is really a contraction of the phrase "maul it again."

A "gimme" can best be defined as an agreement between two golfers ... neither of whom can putt very well.

An interesting thing about golf is that no matter how badly you play, it is always possible to get worse.

Golf´s a hard game to figure. One day you´ll go out and slice it and shank it, hit into all the traps and miss every green. The next day you go out and for no reason at all, you really stink.

If your best shots are the practice swing and the "gimme putt", you might wish to reconsider this game.

Golf is the only sport where the most feared opponent is you.

Golf is like marriage: If you take yourself too seriously it won´t work, and both are expensive.

The best wood in most amateurs´ bags is the pencil.

Dick Monaghan explains

WHY CONDOMS COME IN BOXES OF 3, 6, AND 12 !!!

A man walks into a drug store with his 8-year old son.

They happen to walk by the condom display, and the boy asks, "What are these, Dad?

The man matter-of-factly replies, "Those are called condoms, son. Men use them to have safe sex."

"Oh I see," replied the boy pensively. "Yes, I´ve heard of that in health class at school." He looks over the display and picks up a package of three and asks, "Why are there three in this package?"

The dad replies, "Those are for high school boys: one for Friday, one for Saturday, and one for Sunday."

"Cool!" says the boy. He notices a six-pack and asks, "Then who are these for?"

"Those are for college men," the dad answers. "Two for Friday, two for Saturday, and two for Sunday."

"WOW!" exclaimed the boy. "Then who uses these?" he asks, picking up a 12-pack.

With a sigh and a tear in his eye, the dad replied, "Those are for married men. One for January, one for February, one for March...."

Tom Kyle expands on the uses of a site recommended in last week´s suggestions:

LEARN SOMETHING THIS WEEK

We have all used Google, Wikipedia, and the other common search engines. I thought I would share this web page with you. If you haven´t found http://www.wolframalpha.com, you might want to give it a try. It´s addictive - it was to me, anyway.

It has everything! A few things to try:

* enter any date (e.g. a birth date)

* enter any town (e.g. a home town)

* enter any two stocks

* enter any calculation (e.g: $250 + 15%)

* Explore these supporting web pages:

http://www.wolfram.com/webresources.html

http://demonstrations.wolfram.com/topics.html

Carol Hansen forwards a miscellany of

CLEAN JOKES

Two guys were discussing popular family trends on sex, marriage, and family values.

Stu said, "I didn´t sleep with my wife before we got married. Did you?"

Leroy replied, "I´m not sure. What was her maiden name?"

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"Mr. Clark, I have reviewed this case very carefully," the divorce court judge said, "and I´ve decided to give your wife $775 a week."

"That´s very fair, your honour," the husband said. "And every now and then I´ll try to send her a few bucks myself."

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A doctor examining a woman who had been rushed to the emergency room, took the husband aside, and said, "I don´t like the looks of your wife at all."

"Me neither, doc," said the husband. "But she´s a great cook and really good with the kids."

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An old man goes to the wizard to ask him if he can remove a curse he has been living with for the last 40 years.

The wizard says, "Maybe, but you will have to tell me the exact words that were used to put the curse on you."

The old man says without hesitation, "I now pronounce you man and wife."

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A blonde calls Delta Airlines and asks, "Can you tell me how long it´ll take to fly from San Francisco to New York City?"

The agent replies, "Just a minute."

"Thank you," the blonde says, and hangs up.

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While shopping for vacation clothes, my husband and I passed a display of bathing suits. It had been at least ten years and twenty pounds since I had even considered buying a bathing suit, so I sought my husband´s advice.

"What do you think?" I asked. "Should I get a bikini or an all-in-one?"

"Better get a bikini," he replied. "You´d never get it all in one."

He´s still in intensive care.

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The graveside service had just barely finished when there was massive clap of thunder, followed by a tremendous bolt of lightning, accompanied by even more thunder rumbling in the distance.

The little old man looked at the pastor and calmly said, "Well, she´s there."

SUGGESTED WEBSITES

Gerrit de Leeuw and Tom Williamson both recommend this video of three amazing young singers:

http://www.youtube.com:80/watch?v=FqUkUjeF4-c

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In the economic situation we are now in, we want to be sure our charitable donations are doing what they are supposed to do. Nevil Horsfall posts the URL for Charity Navigator, which gives unbiased evaluation of major US charities, useful to Canadians to check on international charities:

http://www.charitynavigator.org/

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And speaking of international charities, for anyone wondering about what non-medical volunteers do in Doctors Without Borders, have a look at http://msf.ca/blogs/GrantA/ for a blog written by Grant Assenheimer, a chemical engineer from Barrhead, Alberta.

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Pat Moore sends the URL for a site which gives daily newspaper headlines from any large city in the world:

http://www.newseum.org/todaysfrontpages/flash/

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Tom Williamson reminds us that the Miniature Wunderland model railroad in Hamburg, Germany, is the largest in the world, covering 16,146 square feet of space with more than 10,000 train cars running around its 6.8 miles of HO scale track. To watch these trains in action, go to

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PN_oDdGmKyA&feature

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