Home  >> Stories  >> The Tale Spinner #2012-26

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IN THIS ISSUE

• Kate Brookfield continues her story of their year in India
• Pat Moore forwards a tribute to Terry Fox
• Carol Dilworth shares a story about a wily teacher
• Tom Williamson sends answers to an old question
• Carol Shoemaker claims that bras have religious dimensions
• Pun warning - new book titles for summer reading
• Sites are suggested by Bruce Galway, Catherine Green, Gerrit deLeeuw, Jay, Nevill Horsfall, and Pat Moore

Kate Brookfield concludes her account of their visit to

KASHMIR

Before I leave this account of Pahalgam, I should also add that it is from here that thousands of devout Hindus begin their arduous journey to the famous Amaranth Cave. This annual Hindu pilgrimage, known as the Amarnath Yatra, takes place in July and August. Our thwarted trek to Sheshnag Lake was just the first part of this long journey to Amarnath Cave, where a lignum of ice represents Shiva. The legend states that Shiva went to this remote cave to impart the secret of immortality.

At the time we were there, this cave would have already been covered completely in snow and ice. Judging by our lack of stamina to even get to the lake, there is no way we would have made it to the cave, even if we had visited earlier in the year and had been inclined to learn the secret of immortality! However, I do not pretend to know the religious significance of this pilgrimage, but do know that for many Hindus, this is a very sacred place with profound spiritual significance.

Apparently, during the time of the pilgrimages, Pahalgam is a very busy centre.

On our return to Srinagar from Pahalgam, we were deafened by the noise of people and traffic. But as promised, we took the shikari to the deluxe houseboat, the Bulbul. Apart from ourselves, there was only one other guest, Bob, an American. He told us that he was on a five-week tour of India, but all the group except him had cancelled, so he had been the length and depth of the subcontinent as the sole tourist. Over the years since 1984, Bob still sends us postcards from his various world-wide vacations.

Dal Lake was not as quiet as the Jammu River site. The shikari "wallas" (hawkers) were a nuisance, pestering us to buy or wanting to take us to factories. I was amused at the names of the many houseboats moored all round the lake. These are a few of the many I have listed in my notebook: Billoo Palace, Dandoo Palace, Buckingham Palace, Fairyland, Dream House, Cherry Ripe, Pearl Harbour, Lucifer, Star of Kashmir, Crown of India, Happy House, New Neil Armstrong, to name a few.

One day, I went with Mike and his chauffeur to his rock sites while the kids lounged about the houseboat. On our way to the hills, we saw the extensive fields of saffron. At this time, Kashmir was the source of most of the world´s supply of this expensive spice. It was more valuable per ounce than gold. I believe today Spain produces most of the saffron we find in our shops, but it does not match the quality of Kashmiri saffron.

It was a very pleasant day walking in the hills and looking over the Kashmir valley. An old man and a young boy were driving their goats and cows up the valley. The Indian cow, known as a water buffalo, is white and not as heavy or as well fed as our cows. The light behind them seemed to shine through their thin bodies, and in the translucent underbellies I could see the water sloshing about inside their thin pink skin.

Women were wandering about on the hillsides with large baskets on their heads. They wore brightly coloured tunics with baggy pants known as shalwar-chemise, and their heads were covered with red and yellow hand-woven woollen head scarves held in place by a chain of medallions or coins across their foreheads. I stopped one group of women and indicated that I wanted to know what they were harvesting in their baskets. I though they might be picking mushrooms or some exotic mountain herbs. One woman understood my question and put her basket on the ground to show me. It was cow dung. These women wander about the hillsides collecting the dung for fuel, and it is also used with mud to make walls for their homes.

Back in Srinagar, we went to the tourist Emporium which was the former Consulate building. This is where the top-quality, government- approved Kashmiri crafts are sold. There was furniture of all shapes and sizes, including complete dining room sets made from walnut, cherry, and sandalwood. It was a regular Aladdin´s cave of beautiful art work and carpets, tapestries, and the famous pashmina shawls. These latter are made from the underbelly wool of the pashmina goat, and the fabric is as fine as silk. Everything in this store was very expensive, and with shipping costs, away out of our budget. But the tourist office warned tourists of buying imitation Kashmiri art: cardboard instead of genuine papier mache with pure paints, white wood stained to look like walnut, etc.

Later, we found a cluster of government-built stores of specialized Kashmiri crafts. We ended up buying some items of carved walnut furniture. Everything we bought was signed with our names. Nevertheless, it took three years for it to arrive, and only after many letters to the Tourists´ Office and police department. But it was only when Michael went in person on a later visit and visited the police department with our shipping mandate and bill of sale that it was finally shipped to Canada. It turned out that these shops were built by the government and rented out to vendors, but they did not guarantee the goods or the honesty of the vendors.

Soon after our visit, the political problems in Kashmir escalated and their tourist industry suffered great losses. A lot of the Kashmiri vendors moved to Leh in Ladakh.

All too soon, our stay in Kashmir came to an end and we returned to Chandigarh, thankful that we had bought Kashmir sweaters, hats, and gloves, as the weather was changing and it was becoming quite cold at night. We only had a one-bar electric heater to heat the whole house.

To be continued.

Pat Moore reminds us that June 28 was the 31st anniversary of the day that Terry Fox died. Here is a tribute to his memory by "Michael":

TERRY FOX

The broadcaster talked as they showed a young, curly-headed man dip his artificial leg into the Atlantic ocean in Saint Johns, Newfoundland, Canada. "Terry Fox," the man said, "is on a mission to raise money for cancer research. Terry plans to run across Canada to raise one million dollars." The camera followed Terry as he began to run west in a half skip, half jog away from the Atlantic toward the Pacific, more than five thousand miles in the distance.

It was April 12, 1980, a cold and nasty time of year to run in Newfoundland. He ran alone. No one believed in him. A curious few stopped, stared, and then went about their daily lives. One or two donated spare change. Over the next few weeks, the news occasionally showed clips of Terry on his journey. He ran through snow, rain and bitter cold.

Terry rose at 4 a.m. every day, ran twelve miles in the morning, rested, and then ran another fourteen miles in the afternoon - a marathon every single day. Along the way, he collected meagre donations from those who waited along his route. Followed by his brother and his best friend in a support van, Terry reached the end of Newfoundland on May 6, 1980.

Terry was eighteen when he was diagnosed with bone cancer in his right knee. After amputation and chemotherapy, he was left with memories of the kids he left behind at the hospital. He wanted - needed - to do something. Terry´s mother, when she learned of his plan to run across Canada, asked, "Terry, why not just run across British Columbia?"

He looked at her. "Mom, not only people in British Columbia get cancer."

She couldn´t argue with his logic.

Terry trained fourteen months for his quest to save others. He ran with a gait that would be remembered forever.

He took the ferry to Prince Edward Island, ran there, and then returned and began his trek through New Brunswick.

The nation watched and cheered. He no longer ran alone. In every town, people ran with him. The donations increased. Terry was going to make it. He was living the dream we all dream - to do something special for others.

One night, the news showed Terry running up a long, lonely hill in New Brunswick. The rain soaked him. He was in the wilderness, following his dream. I cried for him - a lonely man, skip-running up that hill - running home. Terry became a household name. The crowds grew bigger; more money was donated; and Terry changed his goal. "I want to raise one dollar for every Canadian. Wouldn´t it be nice to raise one dollar for every living person in Canada?" His goal was twenty-four million dollars.

On September 1, 1980, Terry approached the city of Thunder Bay, Ontario, after running 3339 miles in 143 days, the distance from Miami to Seattle. He was in pain. He coughed. His chest hurt. He asked to be taken to a hospital.

After examination, the doctors returned with grim news. The cancer was back. Terry had been running with a tumour the size of a lemon and one the size a golf ball in his lungs.

Terry Fox

Terry lay on a stretcher and shared the news with his followers. "The cancer has spread," Terry said through tears. "Now I have cancer in my lungs. And a ... we gotta go home and try and do some more treatment. But a ..." He paused to choke back his sobs. "All I can say is, if there´s any way I can get out there again and finish it, I will."

Terry was taken to a Vancouver hospital for new rounds of treatment. Days later, a impromptu telethon was organize and raised more than ten million dollars. With the two Terry had already raised, he was well on his way toward his goal of one dollar for every person in Canada.

Terry Fox died on June 28, 1981, at the age of twenty-two. His life is gone, but his memory is not. In Thunder Bay, Ontario, stands a statue of Terry, in full stride, with his head up, facing west, running home.

Terry died doing what he wanted to do in life and was awarded Canada´s highest honour, The Order of Canada, the youngest to ever receive the medal. Every year a run in Terry´s honour takes place in more than fifty countries at more than six hundred locations. To date, almost three hundred million dollars has been raised for cancer research in Terry´s name. He may not be with us in body, but in spirit, Terry is with us, facing west, running home.

Carol Dilworth forwards this story about

LIPSTICK

According to a news report, a certain private Catholic school in Brisbane was recently faced with a unique problem. A number of 12- year-old girls were beginning to use lipstick and would put it on in the washroom. That was fine, provided it was of a natural or neutral skin tone, but after they put on their lipstick, they would press their lips to the mirror, leaving dozens of little lip prints.

Every night the maintenance man would remove them, and the next day the girls would put them back.

Finally the principal, Sister Paschal, decided that something had to be done. She called all the girls to the washroom and met them there with the maintenance man. She explained that all these lip prints were causing a major problem for the custodian who had to clean the bathrooms every night. You can just imagine the yawns from the little princesses.

To demonstrate how difficult it was to clean the mirrors, Sister Paschal asked the maintenance man to show the girls how much effort was required.

He took out a long-handled squeegee, dipped it into a toilet, and cleaned the mirror with it.

Since then, there have been no lip prints on the mirror.

There are teachers ... and then there are educators.

Tom Williamson sends new answers to the old question:

WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD?

AL GORE: I invented the chicken. I invented the road. Therefore, the chicken crossing the road represented the application of these two different functions of government in a new, reinvented way designed to bring greater services to the American people.

RALPH NADER: The chicken´s habitat on the original side of the road had been polluted by unchecked industrialist greed. The chicken did not reach the unspoiled habitat on the other side of the road because it was crushed by the wheels of a gas-guzzling SUV.

PAT BUCHANAN: To steal a job from a decent, hardworking American.

RUSH LIMBAUGH: I don´t know why the chicken crossed the road, but I´ll bet it was getting a government grant to cross the road, and I´ll bet someone out there is already forming a support group to help chickens with crossing-the-road syndrome. Can you believe this? How much more of this can real Americans take? Chickens crossing the road paid for by their tax dollars, and when I say tax dollars, I´m talking about your money, money the government took from you to build roads for chickens to cross.

JERRY FALWELL: Because the chicken was gay! Isn´t it obvious? Can´t you people see the plain truth in front of your face? The chicken was going to the "other side." That´s what "they" call it - the "other side." Yes, my friends, that chicken is gay. And, if you eat that chicken, you will become gay too. I say we boycott all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the liberal media whitewashes with seemingly harmless phrases like "the other side."

DR. SEUSS: Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes! The chicken crossed the road, But why it crossed, I´ve not been told!

ERNEST HEMINGWAY: To die. In the rain. Alone.

MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR.: I envision a world where all chickens will be free to cross roads without having their motives called into question.

GRANDPA: In my day, we didn´t ask why the chicken crossed the road. Someone told us that the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough for us.

BARBARA WALTERS: Isn´t that interesting? In a few moments we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heart-warming story of how it overcame a serious case of moulting and went on to accomplish its lifelong dream of crossing the road.

JOHN LENNON: Imagine all the chickens crossing roads in peace.

ARISTOTLE: It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.

KARL MARX: It was an historical inevitability.

VOLTAIRE: I may not agree with what the chicken did, but I will defend to the death its right to do it.

RONALD REAGAN: What chicken?

CAPTAIN KIRK: To boldly go where no chicken has gone before.

FOX MULDER: You saw it cross the road with your own eyes! How many more chickens have to cross before you believe it?

FREUD: The fact that you are at all concerned that the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity.

BILL GATES: I have just released eChicken 2003, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your chequebook - and Internet Explorer is an inextricable part of eChicken.

EINSTEIN: Did the chicken really cross the road or did the road move beneath the chicken?

BILL CLINTON: I did not cross the road with THAT chicken. What do you mean by chicken? Could you define chicken, please?

COLONEL SANDERS: I missed one?

Here´s an oldie from Carol Shoemaker:

WHAT RELIGION IS YOUR BRA?

A man walked into the ladies´ department of a Macy´s department store and shyly walked up to the woman behind the counter and said, "I´d like to buy a bra for my wife."

"What type of bra?" asked the clerk.

"Type?" inquires the man. "There´s more than one type?"

"Look around," said the saleslady, as she showed a sea of bras in every shape, size, colour and material imaginable. "Actually, even with all of this variety, there are really only four types of bras to choose from."

Relieved, the man asked about the types.

The saleslady replied, "There are the Catholic, the Salvation Army, the Presbyterian, and the Baptist types. Which one would you prefer?"

Now totally befuddled, the man asked about the differences between them.

The saleslady responded, "It is all really quite simple. The Catholic type supports the masses; the Salvation Army type lifts the fallen; the Presbyterian type keeps them staunch and upright; and the Baptist makes mountains out of mole hills."

Your local library may not have these books yet:

SOME NEW BOOK RELEASES

Who Killed JFK, by Howard I. Know

I Laugh at the Gods!, by Hugh Briss

Well, I Never!, by I. D. Claire

Not Bogged Down In Reality, by Jason Rainbows

The Day All Heck Broke Loose, by K. T. Bardedoor

The LA Lakers Breakfast, by Kareem OWheat

Breaking the Law, by Kermit A. Krime

No, by Kurt Reply

Plumb Good, by Dwayne Pipe

I Dont Believe This!, by L. U. Say

Nordic Groundskeeper, by Leif Raker

Meals On Safari, by Lionel Eatcha

Long Walk Home, by Misty Bus

You´re Welcome, by N. Q. Verymuch

Spiritual Practice, by Ned Itation

Lost Cause, by Noah Veil

The Errant Sledgehammer, by O. G. Datturts

The White Flag, by O. I. Givupp

Without Warning, by Oliver Sudden

Life Before Cars, by Orson Buggy

Favourite Sleepwear, by P. J. Bottoms

First Step to French Fries, by P. L. Potatos

Mexican/Italian Food, by Pepe Roney

In Farmer MacGregors Garden, by Peter Abbot

Bad Puns, by R. D. Harhar

Neat Shirts, by Preston Hungup

Your Guess is as Good as Mine, by S. T. Mate

Latin Dances for Sheep, by Sam Baa

Fancy Light Fixtures, by Sean Doliere

Rules for Living, by Sharon Sharalike

Children´s Songbook, by Skip Tumalu

Using Explosives, by Stan Wayback

Preparing Leather, by Tanya Hyde

Off To Market, by Tobias A. Pigg

Do It Yourself, by Tyrone Shoelaces

Blowout in Czechoslovakia, by Vlad Tire

Downpour!, by Wayne Dwops

Carpetlaying, by Walter Wall

An Average Guy from Up North, by Jessica Nadian

Clinical Psychiatry, by Abner Mallity

SUGGESTED WEBSITES

Bruce Galway sends this link to photos that will help to restore your faith in humanity:

Catherine Green sends the URL for a video of a bluegrass concert in which a little wild bird lands on the lead singer´s guitar and watches the singer, who is then able to pet the bird. Put it on full screen to make it easier to see the bird:

Catherine also forwards this link to a video of a flash mob made up of orchestra members and singers in Sabadell, a city in Spain, performing a spirited version of Ode to Joy:

Gerrit deLeeuw forwards the URL to a video of two women inching into a small box. It makes my bones ache, just watching them:

Jay suggests this site for people interested in the history of aviation. AeroCinema is an online documentary channel dedicated to honouring the legacy of flight with feature-length films and short stories that provide a detailed look at the most exciting aircraft of years-gone-by:

Nevil Horsfall sends a link to incredible footage which has been released showing the bird´s eye view enjoyed by crew aboard a Lancaster bomber flying in formation with other aircraft including a Spitfire, a Hurricane, and a Dakota transport over London for the Queen´s Diamond Jubilee celebrations:

Pat Moore sends this link to a breathtaking video of the Canadian Rockies:

It´s rare to find people who get a good quantity and variety of vegetables in their diet. One easy, tasty, and inexpensive answer is the vegetable dish ratatouille. There are dozens of variations on this dish, and you can easily modify it with herbs and spices to suit your taste.

Robyn O´Brien was a busy mother of four with a Wall Street background when a frightening allergic reaction changed the way she looked at the food she was feeding her family. Robyn was an unlikely Real Food evangelist. She tells her inspirational story in this TED talk:

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