Home  >> Stories  >> The Tale Spinner #2011-48

---

IN THIS ISSUE

• Lyle Meeres comes to the end of his story about southern Spain
• We get letters from Carol Dilworth, Dixie Augusteijn, Jean Sterling, Norma Patterson, Pat Moore, and Shirley Conlon
• Mike Yeager mourns the loss of his long-time feline friend
• Geoff Goodship writes about graveyards
• Catherine Nesbitt forwards a story about a lack of perception
• Pat Moore suggests alternatives to the usual Christmas gifts
• Sites are suggested by Bruce Galway, Carol Hansen, Catherine Nesbitt, and Gerrit deLeeuw

Lyle Meeres concludes his story of the rights and wrongs of

SOUTHERN SPAIN

We walked back up to the market square and ate suckling pig, which I´m glad I ate so I knew what it was, but I wouldn´t eat it again. It was greasy and awkward to eat. The first course was unusual: two soups. The postre (dessert) was ice cream.

Segovia is one of our favourite places.

On the way back to Beniaya, Pat´s calamari in squid ink looked terrible but was very good.

I would suggest going to Spain in April, though you may face rain. By our standards, buildings seemed cold. Pat and Gordon used doors and heavy drapes to isolate areas that were heated.

On March 10 we were on the road to Valencia. Since it was Monday, we found many things in Valencia closed. As usual, we walked. We admired classy old buildings and found one huge trumpet and drum made out of papier-mache.

Entry for Las Fallas (Click to enlarge)

It was within days of LasFallas, "The Bonfires." This March 18-19 festival receives quite a buildup in Valencia. We saw school groups, probably bands, arriving. Las Fallas derives from the woodcarvers´ area, where the carvers swept cuttings and remnants into piles that were burned once a year. Eventually the woodcarvers shaped the piles to make them more interesting, and that led to shaping papier-mache figures that were burned. Then fireworks were added, though that led to some injuries and accidental fires. Now, Las Fallas is a contest, and the figures and shapes are gigantic and creative. Many designs are satirical. We saw two more structures in segments in crates and we saw pictures of previous winners in shops.

We found several churches but it was the Mercado Central, with almost 1000 stalls under a huge roof that caught our attention. This is the garden area of Spain, but stalls sold everything from fruit and vegetables to clothing, postcards, paella pans, and arts and crafts. Spiderman´s arms could not have reached around many of the big paella pans. The larger pans had metal stands to hold gas rings for cooking. Sometimes a whole village gets together to make a huge paella and feeds everyone who gathers there. Pat bought postcards but resisted the paella pans.

Construction in Valencia (Click to enlarge)

We took the tourist bus tour which lasted one and a half hours and showed us everything from old buildings to fantastic new buildings. I can´t imagine a Canadian city putting up four huge buildings just because they look like an architect´s dream. I think Valencia makes Madrid look dull. True, you could get lost in Valencia, but it could be fun. We found the people friendly, too.

We said goodbye and many thanks to Pat and Gordon.

At a Lladro store we bought Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, complete with tiny metal swords.

Early on March 12 the taxi took us to the airport, but Air Iberia was not open yet. Once staff arrived, an officious man found us on his computer but told us that our Spanair tickets were not good on Iberia, despite the fact that our itinerary showed Iberia - this was the change that Lufthansa made at home. We went back and forth from Iberia and Spanair lines, even finding one where the computer said our flight replacement with Iberia was confirmed. Mr. Officious came over and told the clerk that our tickets were no good. No one contacted Lufthansa.

We could see that the problem was going to mean that we would miss our connecting flight in Madrid so we bought Iberia tickets for $513 Canadian, using Pat´s credit card.

Before we could get on board, we had to pass security. The two men at the X-ray machine had us drag out the Lladro Don Quixote and Pancho, but eventually decided the miniature swords were not life threatening.

The Iberia plane was less than half full. We made it to Madrid and to Frankfurt and were delighted to hear Canadian spoken on Air Canada. It was -13C. when we arrived at Calgary.

At home we fought with the insurance company, which said the loss of my wallet was not worth claiming. We claimed anyway. AMA had us reimbursed for the Valencia to Madrid flight.

Some of the "wrongs" in Spain are obvious, but we also disliked the graffiti, garbage, and dog droppings. Crime is new enough that older people are still astonished, but it is increasing. These are also wrong at home, but more as trends.

What was so "right" about Spain was that it expanded our view of the world and our awareness of different ways of doing things - and of similarities to Canada. Going to the same little bar on Sunday and seeing ordinary people enjoying each other´s company was a treat. Seeing Moorish architecture was another treat. "Old" was new to us. Spain´s regional differences seemed familiar to us, but Spain has no history of waves of immigrants arriving, despite the joke about having "millions of Englishmen at home." It was a "right treat" to see some of the things ordinary tourists miss. We saw Japan on an exchange, too, and it is a way of exploring that has great advantages.

CORRESPONDENCE

Carol Dilworth has a suggestion for Lyle on his next visit to Spain:

When you return to the Alhambra, include a visit in the evening. Most tourists go only in the daytime, so there are no crowds. Everything is lit with torchlight. You will love it!

Dixie Augusteijn writes:

In some weird way I lost your address and also was unable to get my weekly Spinner that I had listed in my favourites, but an SOS call to my daughter has brought up this that I can reply to, and I hope it is correct. I wanted to give a big thanks to the Spinner and all those who remembered me on reaching my 100th birthday - I never thought I would make it.

I was surprised there were so many of the early Spinners still around. Did you ever think when you started so many years ago it would go on to be such a success? It has brought so many people together who otherwise would not have met.

To bring you up to date with my family: Chris and Liz sold their place in Caledon and bought a boat that they took one year to the Caribbean, but have it now in a marina in Virginia being checked over and fitted for ocean travel - not my cup of tea, but it will be an experience. My oldest granddaughter is a parole officer and lives in London - not so far away, and I see her frequently. Her oldest is ready for university. Sarah is just back from four years in Afghanistan, where she was on a research and review job; this was after she got her Phd. Now she is looking for a long-time job. Laura, the youngest, has been the last couple of years in B.C., chasing endangered bumblebees and butterflies....

Jean Sterling from Florida comments on my editorial about the concerns of those in the Occupy movement:

Excellent thoughts!

The OWS protestors get criticized for not articulating what it is that is making them so unhappy. I think there are so many things that they feel frustrated. The amount that is spent on wars and policing the world (who appointed the US to be world policeman, I´d like to know!) is sinful. Now I hear that Congress wants to cut military health care. What they need to do is cut what they are asking the military to do.

Representatives in the House of Representatives have to run for office every two years. Almost as soon as they are elected they have to start fund-raising for the next campaign. No wonder they are beholden to special interests and lobbyists. Basically, the candidate who is the best fundraiser wins.

I think the OWS people are frustrated that the bigwigs who caused all the economic turmoil a few years ago got bonuses. I share their frustration! Those jerks should have been fired - and quickly!

The Orlando Magic basketball team wanted a new arena. They got their new arena, thanks to the city and the county. Now there is a lockout, and there will be no NBA season. Talk about corporate welfare! At the same time, cuts are being made to education, and I-4 (the major artery through Orlando) is jammed with cars and in need of repair. There is talk about putting in a rail system, but it never progresses past talk.

Norma Patterson also liked the editorial:

Way to go, Jean, way to go! Perfect on Occupations!

Pat Moore comments on my story of our elevator problems and my new plumbing:

I chuckled when I read this because two weeks ago our elevator acted up and did not work for about three hours, until they got the elevator people over to fix it. Many people were stranded where they were because they were unable to use the stairs. What a nuisance! They could not tell us how long it would take to fix the problem.

It is working fine now, but the power went out at 3:48 a.m. Friday morning because of the cold (-30 degrees) and did not come on again until 10:00 a.m., so some were late for appointments. We had to change all the clocks again - so frustrating!

I did not get a new bathtub, as in the story, but did get a new toilet last week, so I chuckled over that too.

Shirley Conlon writes about the apartment article also:

I really got a chuckle out of your article; I could just see you there when the manager arrived. I imagine they had new fixtures downstairs, but didn´t bother to check to see how things were going in the older suites. You won´t know yourself with a new bathroom, because I am sure they will have to paint it as well. Nice Christmas present.

The elevator episode was unbelievable. How do they expect people to function without one when there are so many stairs involved? Landlords don´t use preventive maintenance now - they wait until it is broken, then they fix it. You were lucky you managed so well.

ED. NOTE: Our building is under new management, and they have been updating the suites as they become vacant - new plumbing, new kitchen cabinets, probably resanded hardwood floors. The only reason I am getting new plumbing in the bathroom is because of the leak under the sink, which made it obvious that the pipes had rusted out. The workers do not usually have to cope with tenants, nor do the tenants have to contend with workers. It is not an ideal arrangement, but as Shirley says, I will get a new bathroom out of it, and that is not to be sneezed at.

Mike Yeager published this tribute in his blog at http:// www.aretiredboomer.blogspot.com:

MISSING MY FURRY FRIEND

We had to have the vet euthanize our cat, Felis, recently. Felis was with us for almost 17 years.

It´s been several weeks now and I still look for him when I come home, and then that sharp pain somewhere between my chest and throat reminds me, he´s gone. He wasn´t sick very long, but I suppose the cancerous tumor had been growing on his kidney for a long time. We just didn´t know it. It was only in the last few weeks of his life that we realized something was wrong.

My son, Ben, and I picked him out of the litter along with his long- gone sister, Flower. It was at Christmastime in 1994. Flower was cute, white and black hair, with a shy demeanor. Katie picked her out as the one, right away. We planned on taking just one kitten from the litter, but Felis had so much spunk and personality that Ben and I agreed we had to take him too.

We lived at the time in a two-storey Victorian home and the two kittens had the run of the place. Flower was a natural athlete and that seemed to bother Felis. He was too aggressive for her and their fights always ended with Flower squealing for mercy as Felis pinned her to the floor, biting her neck. There was a big wooden ball on the bannister at the bottom of our hall stairs. In self defense, Flower learned to jump from the bottom stair onto this varnished ball. Felis couldn´t get to her. He tried many times to jump onto that ball, but always slid off, crash landing on the floor in a undignified manner.

Later we moved to a condo across town. The kittens got out one evening and I found Flower dead by the side of the road. She´d been hit by a car and the driver must have placed her up on the grass. I think I know what happened. Felis probably dashed across the street in front of the car with Flower following him. She always followed him. We buried Flower across the street in a field and Felis became our only pet. I was irrationally mad at him for a while for not taking care of his little sister.

He started doing string art shortly after that. Katie is a knitter and would make a small ball of yarn for him to bat around. He discovered that if he knocked it under the kitchen table, the String Art yarn made interesting patterns, or perhaps he just enjoyed watching me untangle the mess when he was through. He sat patiently as I wound the yarn back up into a ball and then threw it for him so he could start the process all over again. Sometimes when he was finished, he put the string ball in one of my shoes, so I´d find it later and throw it out to him.

When we moved from Washington to New York, he got used to being on a harness and leash. On the trip across country we feared he might jump out of the truck when we opened the door. He became accustomed to my taking him over to the grassy areas at rest stops to sniff around. He became an old hand at travelling, because we moved from New York to Arizona, back to Washington, and then back to Arizona. I can´t say that he enjoyed travelling, but as long as we were all together, he was content.

The best place we lived, from Felis´s perspective, was our friend Sally´s add-on apartment in Sequim, Wa. We stayed there for four or five months after we sold our house and just before moving back to Arizona. Her house is in the country and has an acre of lawn rimmed by thick trees. Sally had three cats at the time and we had adopted a stray named Farley. The cats ruled this acre of land. Felis loved to wander and explore the acreage. Sometimes the cats would sit around close to each other, just watching and listening to the world around them.

Felis´s training on the harness came in handy when we moved to Green Valley. I didn´t dare let him out because of the many wild animals that roam the area. Maybe I was over protective, but we´ve seen bobcats, coyotes, huge owls, rattlesnakes, and herds of javelina on the grounds. So I started walking him on the leash. He loved it. "Walking him" is not the right term though; rolling on the sidewalk, sniffing bushes and chewing grass with a little bit of walking in between would be more accurate. We usually went out in the evening, when the light was starting to fade. The birds are very active at this time, but their chirping was engulfed by an expansive stillness as twilight approached.

Felis and I spent many a sunset together on the sidewalks around the villas. In the evenings now I feel sad that he´s not with me to enjoy it. Or maybe he is; who knows?

Geoff Goodship wrote this article after one of their extensive trips across Canada:

MUSEUMS, GRAVEYARDS, AND STREET SIGNS

Canada is replete with museums. Every village that´s been around for three years and has 50 inhabitants has a museum of one sort or another. In the 144 years since Confederation, we´ve started enough museums to keep tourists and visitors occupied for the next century, especially in Atlantic Canada. It´s an industry there. These small community museums can be dangerous. Pioneer crafts and old farm machinery can bore you to death.

If you want a quick jolt of local history, skip the museum and head for the nearest graveyard. It´s comparable to the first shot of coffee in the morning. The first thing you will notice is that Easterners are serious about headstones. Perhaps it´s just because they have been accumulating them for longer than folks out west.

Atlantic Canadians prefers to be buried by faith, all the Catholics in one graveyard, all the Presbyterians in another. They also seem to favour economy burial plots in which whole families are laid to rest. "Here lies Thomas McEachern, his wife Adelia, son Thomas, and daughter Sylvie." Occasionally the wife´s maiden name is included, but the inscription is always engraved in the missionary position.

Street names are also a great place to glimpse local history. Folks can´t resist naming a street in honour of colourful "old Archie", regardless of whether Archie was a drunk, a fool, or a saint, or all three. Few towns do not have a main street called "Main Street". Streets that contain more than one house of worship are unfailingly called Church Street.

Along Nova Scotia´s Sunrise Trail that borders Northumberland Straight, some of the street names are printed in both English and Gaelic, bearing testament to the fact that the Scots got there before the French and are still holding out. The Scots in Pictou, for example, arrived in 1743. There is a street sign in Pictou claiming the first Scot ashore was a piper, and claiming it frightened the Mic Mac Indians so badly they did not return for a month.

The folks in Tatamagouche, Malagash, Wallace and Pugwash fish for lobster just like they do in Gaspe, but the skipper´s last name is more likely to be Mctavish than LeBlanc. If the Scots´ music unnerved the Mic Macs, just think of the havoc that listening to Gaelic must have raised!

So next time you´re in a new place with a limited time to spend, use this tourist´s trick: skip the local museum; walk about the streets and visit the local graveyard.

Catherine Nesbitt forwards this story which illustrates the contention that

PERCEPTION IS EVERYTHING

In 1970, when I first developed M.S. symptoms, I lived in Shillington, near Reading, Pennsylvania. My employer´s fear of chronic illness ended my career, but I still drove my car and did my own shopping when I could.

There was a little market near home. The first time I went there, my balance and dexterity were affected and I dropped a can, which rolled across the floor. I had considerable trouble retrieving it, dropping it several times in my struggle. Once I had the can firmly in hand, I couldn´t get up from my knees! One of the "bagboys" helped me.

I continued shopping but when it came time to check out, the lines were pretty long. Well, wouldn´t you know it, I lost my balance and those racks of candy and gum always placed near the check out lines were knocked off on the floor - candy and gum scattering and rolling everywhere! I tried to pick it up, but kept losing my balance and dropping or spilling them again and again.

Seeing my distress, the owner/manager helped me up, got me through the checkout line and bagged my groceries. He took my car keys and drove my car right up to the door and loaded everything into the trunk for me!

I was so pleased that I returned again and again to that store. Always, someone was there to help me. As I pushed the cart, and looked at an item, things appeared in it as if by magic. My helper checked me through the line immediately and always helped me to the car - often bringing the car up to the door for me.

Some years later I moved 10 miles away but I continued to come back to the same store despite the long drive. I always felt special there because of their help and courtesy. I told lots of friends about the little market but no one else reported the special treatment and made me feel almost as if I was making up a story. But over at least 12 to 15 years I´d enjoyed shopping there.

About that time my teenaged daughter began to date a young man from town. I heard them laughing in the other room and she called me, saying, "Mom! You´ve got to hear this!"

The young man (I´ve forgotten his name after all these years) was beet red with embarrassment, spluttering: "No, don´t tell your mother! Please, don´t!"

She told me anyway, and much to his relief, I fell to the floor laughing till the tears ran down my cheeks!

It seems that he´d just got a job at the little market where I liked to shop. Recently I´d been in and he was stocking shelves when the manager came over and said to him: "See that lady over there? No matter what you are doing, leave it. Help her. Open a new cash register. Take her groceries out of the cart. Help her to the car or bring the car to the door."

"Why all the special care?" he asked his manager.

"Son, she´s the town drunk and we want her in and out of here as fast as possible!"

Did I go back there to shop? You bet! Would you give up that kind of service?

Pat Moore forwards these thoughts on

THE BIRTH OF A NEW TRADITION

As the holidays approach, the giant Asian factories are kicking into high gear to provide Canadians with monstrous piles of cheaply- produced goods - merchandise that has been produced at the expense of Canadian labour. This year can different. This year Canadians can give the gift of genuine concern for other Canadians. There is no longer an excuse that, at gift giving time, nothing can be found that is produced by Canadians hands. Yes there is!

It´s time to think outside the box. Who says a gift needs to fit in a shirt box, wrapped in Chinese produced wrapping paper?

Everyone gets their hair cut. How about gift certificates from your local Canadian hair salon or barber? Gym membership? It´s appropriate for all ages who are thinking about health improvement. Who wouldn´t appreciate getting their car detailed? Small, Canadian owned-detail shops and car washes would love to sell you a gift certificate or a book of gift certificates.

Are you one of those extravagant givers who think nothing of plunking down the $$$$ on a foreign-made flat-screen? Perhaps that grateful gift receiver would like his driveway sealed, or lawn mowed for the summer, or driveway plowed all winter, or games at the local golf course.

There are a bazillion owner-run restaurants, all offering gift certificates. And if your intended isn´t the fancy eatery sort, what about a half dozen breakfasts at the local breakfast joint?

Remember, this isn´t about big national chains - this is about supporting your home-town Canadians with their financial lives on the line to keep their doors open.

How many people couldn´t use an oil change for their car, truck or motorcycle, done at a shop run by the Canadian working guy? Thinking about a heartfelt gift for mom? She would LOVE the services of a local cleaning lady for a day.

My computer could use a tune-up, and I know I can find some young guy who is struggling to get his repair business up and running.

You are looking for something more personal? Local crafts people spin their own wool and knit them into scarves. They make jewelry, and pottery, and beautiful wooden boxes.

Plan your holiday outings at local owner-operated restaurants and leave your server a nice tip. And how about going out to see a play or ballet at your hometown theatre? Musicians need love too, so find a venue showcasing local bands.

Christmas is no longer about draining Canadian pockets so that China can build another glittering city. Christmas is now about caring about us, encouraging Canadian small businesses to keep plugging away to follow their dreams. And when we care about other Canadians, we care about our communities, and the benefits come back to us in ways we can´t imagine. This is the new Canadian Christmas tradition!

This is a revolution of caring about each other, and isn´t that what Christmas is about?

ED. NOTE: I have another suggestion: Do your shopping from online Christmas catalogues from Canadian charities that support those who won´t be receiving many gifts. You can support the grandmothers of Africa who are raising their orphaned grandchildren at the Stephen Lewis Foundation (http://arunaurl.com/4gag). Or you can donate a goat for only $30 to a poor family in Mozambique through the CHF (Canadian Hunger Foundation), which is celebrating its 50th year. Their catalogue is at http://arunaurl.com/4gah. For every dollar donated through CHF, the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) has pledged $3 more, so this is a real bargain. If you want to support agencies in Canada, there are local food banks which always need donations. You are undoubtedly aware of the many organizations that are working to bring Christmas cheer to others, so for those who already have much, why not give them the gift of a donation to one of them. My family are all getting goats.

SUGGESTED SITES

Bruce Galway forwards a link to a video of a lively performance by a group of Irish singers:

Just in case you have forgotten, Bruce sends the URL for a short video demonstrating and explaining the new, easier way of administering CPR to someone who has collapsed and is presumably having a heart attack:

Carol Hansen and Gerrit deLeeuw send this link to a video of great music and an attentive audience, none of whom left during the performance:

Catherine Nesbitt is interested in the information on this site on Hepatitis C because a friend of hers contracted it a few years ago during heart surgery and is now on a liver-transplant list:

A look at the many strange effects of placebos:

The Marine Mammal Center in California rescues and rehabilitates sick and injured marine mammals, supported by state-of-the-art animal care and research facilities, a corps of dedicated volunteers, and an engaged community. For a video of the 2011 release of animals back to the sea, go to

David Suzuki, a long-time environmental activist, speaks at Occupy Vancouver: "For me, the Occupy Movement is about Ecos: the Greek word for household or domain. How do we live in the world sustainably, with opportunity and meaning and happiness as our highest aspiration?"

Charlie Todd causes bizarre, hilarious, and unexpected public scenes: Seventy synchronized dancers in storefront windows, "ghostbusters" running through the New York Public Library, and the annual no-pants subway ride. At TEDxBloomington he shows how his group, Improv Everywhere, uses these scenes to bring people together:

To check out the features of the "freedictionary", which changes daily, go to