Home  >> Stories  >> The Tale Spinner #2012-19

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IN THIS ISSUE

• Kate Brookfield describes the gardens of Chandigarh
• Dalton Deedrick concludes his account of his volunteer dentistry
• Norma Patterson writes about cell phone boors
• Barbara Wear forwards a tribute to all mothers
• Tom Kyle admits that he is a senior citizen
• Betty Audet sends some examples of positive thinking
• Kate sends a history of the origin of Mother's Day
• Catherine Nesbitt forwards a touching desert romance
• Bruce Galway, Carol Hansen, Gerrit deLeeuw, and Shirley Grayman suggest sites

Kate Brookfield describes

THE GARDENS OF CHANDIGARH

As a new city, Chandigarh may not have historic sites and ancient buildings to attract tourists, but it does have beautiful gardens. When we there in 1984, the city was still under construction, with acres of undeveloped land. Today, the city has gained the reputation as India´s Garden City. There are more gardens today than there were in 1984. The location of Chandigarh in the north of India makes it an ideal place for gardens, as the extreme heat of the summer ends with the monsoon season in late July. After the monsoons, the temperature lowers to more comfortable levels enjoyed by plants as well as humans and other animals.

The three gardens we enjoyed were the famous Zakir Rose Garden, the spectacular Rock Garden, and the Botanical Garden in the University of Panjab, which was close to where we lived. My photographs are scanned from old slides and are not the best of images. I recommend you visit http://arunaurl.com/4jk7 for better and more up-to-date photos of these locations and of gardens added since our time there, such as the Fragrance Garden, Chandigarh Bougainvillea Park, and Terrace Garden.

Chandigarh´s Zakir Rose Garden is famous for its size and the number of rose species. It covers 30 acres and has trees as well as rose gardens and a good place for a picnic. The garden is in sector 16, next to the city´s cricket stadium. The Rose Festival when we were there was nothing like the spectacular affair it is now. These days, the festival is in March and is now called "The Festival of Gardens", and combines many events such as dancing and competitions. In 1984, it was merely an opportunity to enjoy the roses in bloom.

The garden, started in 1967, takes its name from a former president, Dr. Zakir Hussain. As well as roses, the garden has many trees, some unique to India and some of medicinal value. Fountains and bright lights at night make it a pleasant place to visit to enjoy fresh air and beauty by day or at nighttime.

The Rock Garden is a fantastic place to see. It was created by Nek Chand Saini, who came to India after partition in 1947, and worked in public works. He began collecting urban waste from demolition sites, such as broken bottles, old crockery, broken tiles, glass bangles, fluorescent light tubes, and secretly started making sculptures in a gorge in a forest near Sukhna Lake. He called it a vision of the divine kingdom of Sukrani.

The gorge had been designated as a conservation area in 1902 as a forest buffer, so nothing could be built on this land. Chand´s work was illegal, but he was able to hide it for 18 years before it was discovered by the authorities in 1975. By that time he had covered 16 acres with sculptures of people and animals made out of clay and concrete, and decorated with these waste materials. When it was discovered, city planners wanted to destroy it, but Chand managed to get the citizens to support the project, and it was decided to give him official permission to continue his project.

Saruj told me how everybody got involved and they set up collection centres around the city where people took their bottles, old crockery, etc. In this way, the garden grew into the amazing feature it is today. See photos at http://arunaurl.com/4jjg8, and check Nek Chand on Google for more information about this artist and his world- wide fame.

We visited the University Botanical Gardens regularly. I remember most the huge cacti, as high as trees. I also remember seeing a nest of killer bees in a tree. It was a nice cool shady place to visit to get out of the intense heat of India, but I do not have any photos. I guess it is a case of not taking photos of places you see regularly!

Dalton Deedrick concludes his story about his experiences as a volunteer dentist in the Philippines:

WAR AND CHAOS IN SOUTH-EAST ASIA

Last week´s story painted an almost idyllic picture of life in the camp, and indeed the organization was excellent, but I think you will agree that most of these unfortunates deserved some respite following their harrowing experiences making it to Marong. I will relate the story of one boatload of people who landed just days before I reached the camp, and their story is not unique.

A group of 23 people crowded into a little coastal fishing boat with one week´s supply of water, food, and gas, and departed South Vietnam, headed for Thailand. They were refused landing there, so they set out across the 500-mile stretch of the China Sea for the Philippines. Out of fuel, they drifted with the winds and current, with only rainwater to sustain them. They were within hailing distance of countless ships which would not pick them up, or offer other aid, suffered through two typhoons, and finally, after 52 days afloat, they washed up on the beach about three miles from Marong. Seven of those who started died on the boat; two more died after landing; and a baby, which survived, was born the day they landed.

The reason no big ship could pick them up was because if it had done so, it would have been refused landing at any of the ports in the nearby countries. Hundreds, or more likely thousands of "Boat People" like the ones mentioned, were lost in the China Sea from pirates who robbed, raped, and pillaged the helpless people on the tiny boats, then sank them, or left them to chance the next typhoon.

Not all of the camp people had such dramatic histories, of course. Most were middle-class people who simply did not want to live in a communist country, or perhaps they had previous ties with the U.S. or South Vietnamese military, which made them targets for eventual severe treatment. A few were suspected criminals who were getting out because they were on the run; quite a few were in no real danger at home, but were hoping to get to one of the "Lands of Promise" where they might make a better life for themselves; and there were a few who were mentally deranged.

There were interview teams who tried to direct each family to the country desired, or where they had sponsors or relatives, quota permitting. I think they made a conscientious effort, but what an impossible task!

I started this little essay to tell about my dental experience in the camp, and somehow got sidetracked with a lot of other things. Well, dentally it was a great experience! There were two dental clinics in the camp, nearly a mile apart, each manned by a Rotarian volunteer. My confrere was a gentleman from India, resplendent in a snow-white turban which he wore all the time, somewhat to the astonishment of his patients. By luck, my clinic was in the nearby hospital, while his was a mile away, in the other end of the camp. He could either walk it four times a day, or for the 15 cent fare, take the little motorbike taxi with the fringe-topped sidecar, down to his end.

The water supply for his clinic was in a 500-gallon water tank, perched a few feet above his roof. His patients began to complain that the taste of the water from the rotor coolant, and rinsing syringe, was a bit peculiar, so he went up to the ladder to look in the tank. The trouble was soon apparent. The lid had shifted a bit, and several unfortunate birds had drowned in the tank. Oh well, nothing in this world is perfect.

My clinic was in the hospital, with excellent new equipment supplied by Japan. Japan would not admit any immigrants, but she did sent funds, which in this camp were used to equip hospital and dental clinics quite adequately.

The dental work was about half extractions, and half restorative work. The whole exercise would have been twice as efficient with one good assistant, but instead, I had four assistants all the time, each one proficient in one language, but not knowing much English. There was a Thai, a Vietnamese, a Cambodian, and a Laotian, each determined to be the one at my elbow, and none of them had ever been in a dental office his life. They were racking up hours of credit against their requirements for "Pre-Employment" experience, and of course they were interested in such marvels as freezing, fillings, and simple surgery.

Every day, one fellow came in with a notebook and solemnly copied down the names from our list of patients, and then left. He was one of those mental patients that no one knew what to do with. He couldn´t go back to wherever he came from, and they couldn´t in good conscience send him anywhere. He had been in the camp a couple of years, with no likelihood of placement.

Every Monday was bittersweet day in camp, for that was the day that a fleet of buses would arrive from Manila to pick up some 300 people who had passed all the hurdles, and were on their way to a new and distant land. Families were kept together of course, but good friends, lovers, or distant relatives might well be listed to go to opposite sides of the country, or even be some other countries´ quota.

One of my translator-assistants had finally qualified for departure, so I went down to the departure plaza to see him off. It was a scene of high emotional drama, probably a repeat of what our ancestors experienced when they embarked for the new world, but it was a wrenching experience to witness. I couldn´t help but wonder what fears and hopes were in the minds of those boarding the buses, all bound for a new, strange land, leaving behind a culture and a way of life they would never experience again. Each of you reading this will have their own assessment of how well or how badly those entering your community have succeeded.

Like all good things, my assignment came to an end, and I bade farewell to my turbaned friend, who was going to stay another week, and greeted a jolly little Welshman who had come half way around the world to replace me. It had been a memorable month, and even now, years later, whenever I see a little dark-haired Asian citizen, I have an urge to approach him and say, "Did you, by any chance, come here from a refugee camp in Marong?" I never have followed that urge, of course, but if I did and the answer was "Yes," I think we would have a great conversation.

CORRESPONDENCE

Norma Patterson writes: I certainly agree with Jean Sterling about the cell phone boor. We went to the airport on Thursday and heard someone´s whole life history and medical problems! One needs to put in ear plugs, or in my case, take out hearing aids!

Barbara Wear sends this timely tribute to

MOTHERS

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for:

Young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation ... and mature mothers learning to let go. For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers. Single mothers and married mothers. Mothers with money, mothers without. This is for you all. For all of us.

This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It´s okay, honey, Mommy´s here." Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can´t be comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON´T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they´ll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.

And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see me, Mom?" they could say, "Of course. I wouldn´t have missed it for the world!" and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who wanted to, but just couldn´t find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat. For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then read it again. "Just one more time." This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school; and for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls, "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home - or even away at college.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches, assuring them they´d be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can´t find the words to reach them.

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14-year-olds dye their hair green.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

And this is for all the men who fill mothers´ shoes when they are no longer there.

Tom Kyle writes, In case you were not aware, yes,

I AM A SENIOR CITIZEN!

I´m the life of the party, even if it lasts until 8:00 o´clock.
I´m usually interested in going home soon after I leave.
I´m awake many hours before my body allows me to get up.
I´m smiling all the time because I can´t hear anything.
I´m very good at telling stories; over and over and over...

I´m so well cared for -
  long term care,
    eye care,
      private care,
        dental care.

I´m not really grouchy...

I just don´t like traffic,
   waiting,
     crowds,
       loud music,
         noisy kids,
           barking dogs,
             and a few other things I can´t remember.

I´m sure everything I can´t find is in a safe place, somewhere.
I´m wrinkled, saggy, lumpy, and that´s just my left leg.
I´m beginning to realize that aging is not for wimps.
I´m sure they are making adults much younger these days,
and when did they let kids become policemen?

Actually, I´m a walking storeroom of facts... I´ve just lost the key to the storeroom door.

Betty Audet suggests we look on

THE POSITIVE SIDE OF LIFE

Living on Earth is expensive, but it does include a free trip around the sun every year.

How long a minute is depends on what side of the bathroom door you´re on.

Birthdays are good for you; the more you have, the longer you live.

Happiness comes through doors you didn´t even know you left open.

Ever notice that the people who are late are often much jollier than the people who have to wait for them?

Most of us go to our grave with our music still inside of us.

If Wal-Mart is lowering prices every day, how come nothing is free yet?

You may be only one person in the world, but you may also be the world to one person.

Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once.

Don´t cry because it´s over; smile because it happened.

We could learn a lot from crayons: some are sharp, some are pretty, some are dull, some have weird names, and all are different colours ... but they all exist very nicely in the same box.

A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.

Kate forwards this history of Julia Ward Howe´s

MOTHER´S DAY VISION

Julia Ward Howe offered her Mother´s Day Proclamation to the world in 1870. Her dream was the establishment of an international Mothers´ Day Festival dedicated to the cause of nonviolent resolution of conflict, and international solidarity among all women. Her pacifist consciousness had been provoked by the bloodshed of the Franco-Prussian War. Her activism was cultivated in the struggles for abolition of slavery and the quest for women´s suffrage.

She had the proclamation translated into French, Spanish, Italian, German, and Swedish, working for the establishment of Mother´s Day in concert with women internationally celebrating peace and women´s empowerment.

Howe died in 1910, four years before President Woodrow Wilson officially declared the day in 1914 in response to the burgeoning success of the movement she inspired. But Wilson avoided any mention of the thrust of Howe´s cause in his declaration, instead emphasizing only the nurturing "home and hearth" dimension of motherhood. He also spurned the internationalist concern that was central to Howe´s consciousness, distorting this into American nationalism. Howe´s central concerns, the universality of motherhood and its natural expression in anti-war sentiment, was excised from the official meaning of the day.

President Wilson proclaimed: "Now, therefore, I, Woodrow Wilson, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the said Joint Resolution, do hereby direct the government officials to display the United States flag on all government buildings and do invite the people of the United States to display the flag at their homes or other suitable places on the second Sunday in May as a public expression of our love and reverence for the mothers of our country."

Compare this to Howe´s far more high-minded vision, still so desperately needed in this suffering, divided world. Here is the text of her 1870 Mother´s Day Proclamation, so prescient in its understanding, so courageous in its call, so relevant nearly a century and a half later:

Arise then ... women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!

Say firmly:"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.

"We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.

"From the voice of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with our own.
It says: ´Disarm! Disarm!The sword of murder is not the balance of justice.´
Blood does not wipe out dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.

"As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace ...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God.

"In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient,
At the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace."

Catherine Nesbitt forwards this

DESERT LOVE STORY

Once upon a time there was a very handsome male camel with two huge camel humps. He fell in love with a beautiful female camel who had one perfect camel hump.

As time progressed, they became the proud parents of a wonderful baby camel who had no humps.

They thought long and hard on what to call their beautiful little boy. They finally decided on.... You ready for this?

Oh, stop your whining. It´s a nice story and better than a lot of the junk I send you.

SUGGESTED WEBSITES

Bruce Galway forwards this link to a video of Henri, the cat, bored but philosophical:

Carol Hansen suggests this tribute to Morgan Freeman by Betty White at the 39th AFI Life Achievement Award:

Gerrit deLeeuw sends this link to a video showing how plastic bottles can light up the darkness:

Gerrit also sends the url for a dramatic surprise on a quiet square in Belgium, where pushing a big red button resulted in a scene of mayhem:

Shirley Grayman forwards this link to two videos of "The Diamonds" performing their top hit, 47 years apart. The Diamonds were one of the most popular vocal groups of the 1950s, a quartet of Canadians best known for their hit "Little Darlin´," which reached the #2 spot on Billboard´s singles chart in 1957. The lead singer was Dave Somerville, a native of Guelph, Ontario, who was born in 1933.

This Worldometers site registers statistics for the world population, government and economics, society, media, environment, food, water, and energy:

For a comparison of the sizes of the infinitely small to the infinitely large, click on this link. Slide the bar at the bottom of the site to the left for decreasing-sized objects, to the right for increasing sizes, up the the known universe:

In July 2011, Tim Silverwood sailed 5000km from Hawaii to Vancouver to research and document the accumulation of plastic in the infamous North Pacific Gyre, otherwise known as the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. The news reported this week that the garbage patch has increased by 100% in recent years.

In the 20th century we added an unprecedented number of years to our lifespans, but is the quality of life as good? Surprisingly, yes! At TEDxWomen, psychologist Laura Carstensen shows research that demonstrates that as people get older they become happier, more content, and have a more positive outlook on the world:

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