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IN THIS ISSUE

• From the archives, here is the second installment of Amy Wilson´s story
• Dick Monaghan resorts to meditation
• Pat Moore remembers summers in a cabin on Lake Winnipeg
• Shirley Conlon warns against a highly unlikely occurrence
• Peter Rollo´s speeding story tops all the others
• Carol Hansen, Don Henderson, Doris Dignard, and Jay suggest sites

FROM THE ARCHIVES

Here is the second instalment of the story written by his aunt, Amy Wilson, sent to us by Dalton Deedrick:

THE WORLD ISN´T SO BIG

We sat scarcely breathing until the team had passed. The driver took them a couple of hundred yards past our hiding place, then right opposite the barn, he stopped, climbed down from his seat, and walked toward the rear of the wagon. For a second, it looked as if he was walking towards us. Nell was always a timid soul and her eyes nearly popped out of her head as she fearfully gasped, "He´s coming for us!"

But he wasn´t. He stopped and looked in the back of the wagon and seemed to be talking to someone in there. Perhaps the wagon was full of gypsies. Then he put the flap down, and going back to his team, he unhitched them and took them to our water tank, where they drank loudly and long.

Next, the stranger led the horses back to the wagon and unharnessed them, throwing the harness on the wagon-tongue. Finally, he put hobbles on both horses and turned them loose to graze on the long prairie grass that grew by the roadside. Now he made a second trip to the well, this time carrying a battered pail that hung from the wagon. He pumped the pail full of water and took a big drink from it himself, then carried the rest of it back to the wagon and disappeared behind the tarpaulin.

Now was our chance! As one, we jumped from our hiding place and raced towards the field where the fence was being repaired. Daddy had to be told at once that gypsies were camped right by our barn and their horses were drinking our water, and nobody was there to look for stealing and the like.

Our dusty little bare feet fairly flew over the ground and Nettie got a rose-thorn in one heel and wanted to stop, but Nell and I knew better than to let her do such a foolish thing. We each took her hand and practically dragged her along, knowing full well a gypsy would get her, or one of us, if there was any delay. She was crying pretty loudly too, and we were frantically trying to get her to shut up. We ran right through our herd of milk cows. Most of them were lying down, chewing their cuds, and paying no attention to us, but Daddy heard the commotion and came running to meet us. He said afterwards he thought the house was on fire, but I think he was only joking about that.

Nell was usually our main spokesman. Daddy always said she had ´the gift of the gab,´ but this time Nettie and I were not to be outdone, and among us we got the story out. But Daddy didn´t react the way we expected him to at all. He called Marv and Lou from down the fence- line and said, "Doesn´t sound like gypsies to me. We´ll all go home. Someone in that wagon might have had this same sickness that is taking our friends and neighbours. Not one of you is to go near the wagon."

When Daddy spoke in that tone of voice we knew he meant business and anyone who disobeyed would be sent for the razor-strap. With him the punishment had to fit the crime. Sometimes he said, "I´d rather have to take a licking myself than lick one of my little gals." Daddy always called us his little gals, but not infrequently those little gals were turned across his knee and given a few whacks with that hated razor-strap. Mind you, I don´t ever recall any of us being given a licking that we didn´t deserve, and sometimes I know we deserved many that we didn´t get. But he needn´t have worried that time. Not for anything in the world would we have gone near that covered wagon.

We all climbed on the hayrack with fence-posts, wire and sledge- hammer - all the paraphernalia for fence-making, but before we started for home, Nettie had to have the rose-thorn taken out of her heel. Daddy was pretty good at removing slivers and the like.

He wet his finger with spittle, then rubbed the grime off Nettie´s heel and we could all see the end of the thorn. Then he got out his jackknife and somehow got that thorn between his own thumb and the blade of the knife. It was out in a second before Nettie had time to make the most of the situation. Being the youngest in the family, she usually got the most sympathy, and if we didn´t lay it on pretty thick, she reminded us in no uncertain manner, starting with a long, loud wait. We used to tell her the neighbours would hear her, and since she was real fond of the little boy who lived on the next quarter-section, sometimes it worked.

Halfway back, Marv jumped off the hay-rack and drove the milk cows home ahead of us as it was almost chore-time.

The covered wagon stood where we had last seen it, and though we had described it as the biggest covered wagon in the world, somehome it looked smaller to us now, and the hobbled horses grazing 50 yards down the road looked thin and weary.

Daddy paid no attention to the outfit standing opposite our barn but said, "Come one, we´ll go right ahead with the chores." And we did. He and Marv milked the cows while Lou and Nell got supper ready and Nettie and I set the table and gathered the eggs, and eyed the covered wagon. There was no sign of life around it and we visualized a pile of gypsies inside. I could just see them - bangles, rings, beautiful bright clothes, and all dead.

It was dusk and supper was over and there was a feeling of uneasiness in the air when the knock came at the kitchen door. When anyone came to our door, Daddy always hospitably called out, "Come on in!" in a hearty voice. This time he didn´t call out anything. He walked to the door, opened it a wee crack, and asked, "Is anyone sick in your wagon?"

A man´s muffled voice replied, "No, sir, we have no sickness."

At that Daddy opened the door wider and from our position behind him, we could see the speaker. He had a white handkerchief tied across his nose and mouth.

"Have you the sickness here, sir?" he asked.

"No," replied Daddy, as he stepped out the door and closed it behind him.

We could hear their voices as they walked away from the house and we watched out the window. The man took the handkerchief from his face and talked earnestly to Daddy. When they reached the covered wagon, both men climbed into it.

It was a good half hour before Daddy returned to the house. He got Marv to light the lantern and get a pail of oats from the granary and take it over to feed the stranger´s team, then he took a dozen eggs and a five-pound pail full of milk back to the covered wagon. Afterwards he and Marv walked slowly back together and Marv looked almost as big as Daddy when they came in the door.

We all sat around the kitchen table waiting expectantly for Daddy to tell us about the stranger. He wasn´t in any hurry; he lit his pipe and puffed on it for a few minutes to get it to draw properly, then said, "They aren´t gypsies, gals, they are homesteaders heading for the Peace River country. The man´s wife is in the covered wagon and she´s tired out from traveling, so they are going to camp here for a few days and rest."

What a letdown that was after all the pictures Nell and Nettie and I had conjured up, and we went to bed thoroughly disappointed. If there had been only one gypsy!

To be concluded.

Dick Monaghan tries meditation:

OMMMM!

I yelled at the cat the other day - it was arrogant and walked away while I was still talking to it - and someone suggested I might benefit from meditation.

"Meditation is never going to convince me that cat is not evil," I said.

"Meditation," I was told, "will not tell you the cat is not evil; it will teach you to deal with the evil."

I bought a couple of books. The lady who wrote the first one says the important thing is to "let go," and "stop making a big deal of everything."

Fine. That´s good advice and I intend to follow it whenever I can, but I quickly discovered it has its limitations: my creditors don´t believe in it. They will not "let go," and they insist my debts are a "big deal."

The second one deals with the physical aspects of meditation, and it´s the one that got me into really big trouble. I admit I rushed things a little and tried to assume the "lotus" position - soles of the feet on inner thighs - before I was ready.

The local doctors tell me I may have to be shipped to the Mayo Clinic, where abler hands than theirs can try to pry me loose from myself.

Meanwhile, how do I get this cat off my lap? Or least get it to stop purring?

Pat Moore has fond memories of her early years at a summer cottage at Panemah, located on Lake Winnipeg:

RAMBLINGS ON EARLY CHILDHOOD

I often think I am the person I am because I spent the first six years of my life living in England, where life was much gentler and kinder, and only returned to Canada to spend almost four months of the year at our summer cottage on Lake Winnipeg, where everybody knew one another.

Early in the spring we would go along the roads before they got dusty to collect wild strawberries and have them for breakfast. We also picked young nettles, before they got prickly, to cook. It was my job to collect young dandelions to make "wine" - and if I was very good - I was allowed to taste it. I wonder if that is why I like wine to this day?

I walked to the morning 11:30 train every day to get the mail, about two miles, and of course put a penny on the tracks for the train the flatten. (I was very sorry to hear a few years ago that it is now illegal to do this and you can get arrested for it.) I stopped on the way to visit and have a "cuppa" with everyone who was down that early in the season, and of course to play some cards or games with the retired people who lived there all year round. What an adventure every day! I would finally arrive back at the cottage about 4 p.m. - no worries for mothers then.

We went down in May if I was good enough in school to get out early - what an incentive! - and generally there were not many other kids around that early in the spring - or they did not go to a school that provided incentives.

Just coming back from England, I was very fond of a "cuppa" tea, with lots of milk and sugar, and of visiting, so those were precious days. I certainly had to be good at math because a retired gentleman taught me how to play cribbage, and if I missed a point - too bad!

When we went down early in May the grass was high, and it was my job to chase the cows away from our lawn with a switch. They liked to wander from a neighbouring farm and enjoy our grass.

Then when the men came to cut down the high grass with a scythe, I would go behind them and collect all the baby mice that were nestled in their nests in the high grass.

We also had giant frogs, and it was great fun to dress them up in doll clothes and parade around the neighborhood with them in my doll carriage.

A violent thunderstorm meant that everyone came to our cottage for my mother´s ghost stories, told by lamplight, with hot chocolate and marshmallows toasted in the fire. To this day I cannot understand why anyone is frightened of storms - they were the best, as it meant story time!

It was also play time, as my mother had brought home a huge ship trunk from our return trip from England and filled it with dress-up clothes. Then it was time to dress up as fancy ladies with hats, pearls, party dresses, fancy purses, etc. What imaginations we had! My mother even had a collection of caps, sailors´ hats, etc., so the boys could dress up too.

I can still remember the tinkle of the bells as the "honey wagon" came around. If you do not know, it was collecting from the outhouses.

A more pleasant sound was the knock on the door early in the mornings as we had fresh milk (does anyone remember the milk bottles where the cream would rise to the top?) and butter delivered several times a week; fresh vegetables every Friday; fresh eggs, fresh buns and bread every Thursday; and fish (mainly pickerel) caught at 5 a.m. and delivered by 10 a.m. twice a week.

Oh yes - and ice delivered every Monday. Because we were on a lake, we did not get electricity until after the war in 1945. My father dug very big holes and sunk clean, old large barrels into the back yard, and this kept our food cold and fresh for a long time without any ice. For a child, it was a great thrill to go out to the yard and haul up with a rope the food needed that day. For my mother, he also dug a smaller hole under the kitchen table for the food, and with a bit of ice, this kept everything safe and fresh for the week.

Another thrill was to go to the fresh water tap across the street, pump a full bucket of water - not an easy task for a little girl - and to walk carefully back to the kitchen without spilling a drop - always a challenge.

Water is those days was precious as we did not get running water or a bathroom until after WWII, and we always conserved water, using it many times before finally watering the garden.

Whenever there was a showing of northern arctic lights, my mother used to gather the kids up with blankets (no sleeping bags then) and head down to the sand, where we slept under the stars and the flashing sky. The Aurora lights can be seen in many places, but over Lake Winnipeg they were spectacular, and they crackled - the sound was amazing and quite magical.

While I am rambling - I just thought of the great fun we had on May 24th, when Canada celebrated the Queen´s birthday. In those days the fireworks gave off a very acrid smell and made your throat burn, so we spent days beforehand making "treacle" - candy made from brown sugar, honey, and molasses - to soothe our throats.

Another treat was when a wonderful retired gentleman used to take me "hazelnut hunting" - and when they ripened - how delicious! While we were gathering ice cream pails full, he had the most wonderful stories to tell of his youth in England, and his adventures as a young man as a sailor, and all the wonderful places he traveled. His travel stories probably inspired my imagination and my love of travel and I will thank him forever.

Shirley Conlon warns

NEVER CHOKE IN A RESTAURANT IN THE SOUTH!

Two hillbillies walk into a restaurant. While having a bite to eat, they talk about their moonshine operation.

Suddenly, a woman at a nearby table, who is eating a sandwich, begins to cough. After a minute or so, it becomes apparent that she is in real distress.

One of the hillbillies looks at her and says, "Kin ya swallar?"

The woman shakes her head, "No."

Then he asks, "Kin ya breathe?"

The woman begins to turn blue, and again shakes her head, "No."

The hillbilly walks over to the woman, lifts up her dress, yanks down her drawers and quickly gives her right butt cheek a lick with his tongue.

The woman is so shocked that she has a violent spasm and the obstruction flies out of her mouth. As she begins to breathe again, the hillbilly walks slowly back to his table.

His partner says, "Ya know, I´d heerd of that there ´Hind Lick Maneuver´ but I ain´t niver seed nobody do it afore!"

Peter Rollo, a retired policeman from Australia, challenges

TOP THIS FOR A SPEEDING TICKET

Two traffic patrol officers from Perth were involved in an unusual incident while checking for speeding motorists on the Mitchell Freeway.

One of the officers (who were not named) used a hand-held radar device to check the speed of a vehicle approaching over the crest of a hill, and was surprised when the speed was recorded at over 300 mph. The machine then stopped working and the officers were not able to reset it.

The radar had in fact latched on to a NATO Tornado fighter jet over the Indian Ocean, which was engaged in a low-flying exercise over the district.

Back at police headquarters the chief constable fired off a stiff complaint to the RAF Liaison office.

Back came the reply in true laconic RAAF style:

"Thank you for your message, which allows us to complete the file on this incident. You may be interested to know that the tactical computer in the Tornado had automatically locked on to your ´hostile radar equipment´ and sent a jamming signal back to it. Furthermore, the Sidewinder air-to-ground missiles aboard the fully-armed aircraft had also locked on to the target. Fortunately, the Australian co- pilot flying the Tornado responded to the missile status alert intelligently and was able to override the automatic protection system before the missile was launched."

SUGGESTED WEBSITES

Carol Hansen sends the URL for an old Carol Burnett video in which she is joined by Julie Andrews:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=appIbv6fjYc&NR=1

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Don Henderson writes: No apologies for another picture show of yesterday´s cars! They looked great then and they look great today. Some of them are still on the road - in Havana:

http://www.billsretroworld.com/cars.htm

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Doris Dignard forwards the URL for a video of Rick Mercer helping to tag bears in Algonquin Park:

http://arunaurl.com/32bj

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Do you watch Market Place? Jay sends this URL for their article on hazards of cell phones:

http://arunaurl.com/327f