Coughs, Colds and Ginseng
I've been fighting a cold this week and as a result my brain keeps going off in all directions.
I'm afraid that this week's stories are, therefore, going to be a bit of a hodge-podge rather than the elegantly linked and balanced selection that I usually achieve. (Yeah, right!)
But first, as CNN says, some Breaking News.
I spotted the year's first robins on Monday, February 22nd, stepping daintily over ridges of snow and pecking at the frozen earth. It may be my paranoia but I thought I saw the male look up at the ledge above our front door, the site of The War of the Robins back in the spring of 2008---click here for an account of that battle (Posting #10, March 8, 2009).
I'm really hoping the robins will find a nesting spot somewhere else so we don't have to go to war again!
000
A joke that wowed us in Grade One was, "When is the best time to see pigs?"
Answer: "When you have a sty in your eye."
I know: "Groan, Groan"!
Perhaps the best time to talk about coughs and colds is when your head is stuffed up.
So here goes.
When I was growing up treatment for the common cold went through several phases.
First, a scratchy throat was treated with cough drops, the favourite being the hard, black licorice flavoured cough candies produced by the bearded Smith Brothers.
If a sore throat turned into a cough and congestion, my family always turned to Buckley's Mixture.
Growing up in the 1930s and 1940s, we were used to medicines that had a nasty taste such as, cod live oil, castor oil, and that favourite spring tonic and de-wormer, sulphur and molasses.
In a time before scientific, double blind studies, people seemed to judge the efficacy of a medicine by how bad it tasted or smelled (think of Absorbine Jr, the liniment favoured by weekend athletes).
But the worst tasting was undoubtedly Buckley's Mixture. (Click here for a fun history of Buckley's)
Even my parents, who could be pretty stoical about discomfort and pain, couldn't stop the fearsome grimaces that always accompany the swallowing of Buckley's Mixture.
I know from feedback that this blog has readers in other countries, readers who I am reasonably sure have never tasted Buckley's Mixture. I would like to be able to convey to them the sheer awfulness of the taste of Buckley's. But I am afraid it is beyond my command of the English language.
I have tried.
I jotted down some thoughts using the approach of wine tasters.
"The first note on the palate is a mix of pine and spruce gums that while unexpected is not wholly unpleasant. But then there is a wallop of ammonia that literally takes one's breath away."
That's something like it but as anyone who has taken Buckley's will tell you there's a whole lot more to the awfulness of the stuff.
I have admired how the Buckley's people resisted the shift from nasty tasting medicines to sweet tasting concoctions that required the invention of child-proof lids.
And I've also admired the marketing genius of the Buckley's people who have turned a negative into a roaring positive with great advertising.
"It tastes awful. And it works."
One of the company executives is supposed to have coined a neat double entendre, “We’re #1, But We Taste Like #2”
Although, the company has broadened its line of cough medicines by adding a cough suppressant, dextromethorphan (DM), to some of them, I have stuck with the 'Original'---I have a mild case of asthma and cough suppression is not a good thing.
I have always taken Buckley's Mixture on my overseas consulting assignments.
While working in Amman Jordan in 2001, I ran out of Buckley's. I went to see a local doctor recommended by the Canadian Embassy and showing him the empty bottle asked if Jordan had something similar.
He squinted and frowned as he looked at the ingredients: Canada balsam, ammonium carbonate, camphor, glycerine and pine needle oil, among other things.
"I am positive we do not have anything like THIS!", he said, shaking his head.
After I explained that I could not use anything with DM, he thought for a bit and then jotted down the name of a German natural remedy that might work.
The German cough syrup listed a number of herbal ingredients---including 'snake venom'.
Kill you or cure you, I guess.
It was dark brown, with an unpleasant 'mediciney' taste but nothing approaching the awfulness of the taste of Buckley's.
And it didn't work nearly as well, either.
000
When I set off in 2002 for what was to be a two year assignment in Baku, Azerbaijan, I packed four large bottles of Buckley's.
Unfortunately, I had to return home after just five months because of illness.
We had bought some rugs and there wasn't room in our suitcases for the four untouched bottles of Buckley's.
We left them for the landlord and I have often wondered what happened to them. Azerbaijan was a poor country and nothing got thrown out so I am sure they were used for something.
My fantasy is that the landlord carried them in his Mercedes and whenever he got stopped by Baku's notorious traffic police---in one of their periodic shakedowns---he gave them a bottle instead of money. He was a glib fellow and I can see him telling the police that this was the latest medical breakthrough from the West.
And in my imagination I can see the officer taking a spoonful, and then doubling over.
And then---unfortunately---feeling better.
000
Back to when I was young.
If Buckley's didn't stop the cold, the next remedy was Vick's VapoRub rubbed into the chest. It tingled a bit on the skin and the menthol vapours seemed to help the congestion.
If that didn't work, and the cold was 'going down into the chest', then Mom moved to the 'nuclear option', the mustard plaster.
She would make a paste of Keen's Mustard, flour and some water, and then spread it on a piece of woolen fabric (often taken as I recall from a discarded pair of my Dad's Stanfield's long underwear). The plaster was then put on the chest,---with the paste side away from the skin so it didn't burn it--- and left for thirty minutes or so.
When the plaster was peeled off, the skin was bright red. It stayed red for several hours, sending heat, I assume, to the bronchial tubes to help clear them.
Did mustard plasters work?
I don't know but I am sure they made my parents feel better. They were doing something to help a wheezing child.
And mustard plasters didn't smell as bad as a remedy used by some other families in Arthur, the onion poultice.
But that's another story.
000
With my current cold, in addition to Buckley's, I am experimenting with COLD-FX, which my brother and sister-in-law have found helpful.
According to the box, the main ingredient of COLD-FX appears to be an extract from North American ginseng.
The reference to ginseng reminded me of a story from the Russian project.
I was finishing off some reports in my Moscow office getting ready to leave for a trip home to Ottawa. Boris, (not his real name) a Federal Employment official from Siberia, whom we had visited on a trip to Russia's Far East, dropped into the office.
Through Yuri, my office manager and interpreter, the visiting official said that he had heard that I was going back to Canada and he had brought me a gift.
With that Boris opened a brown paper bag and pulled out a recycled jam jar filled with a milky liquid with something brown bobbing in it.
As he handed it to me, he said that it was a Siberian ginseng root that had been soaking for several weeks in the purest of Siberian vodka.
I took the jar from him, not really knowing what to do with it.
Boris started to talk and when he had finished Yuri chuckled and said, "Oh this is good".
I waited impatiently as Yuri tried to find the precise English words to convey what the visitor was saying.
Finally, he told me that Boris knew that the trip home would be long and tiring. He knew that Pat would be waiting to welcome me and that she would expect me to be happy to see her, and.... There was a pause while Yuri searched for words.
"This liquid will help you show Pat how much you have missed her", Yuri said with a grin.
I got the point and the three of us had a good nudge-nudge-wink-wink laugh.
Boris then told me, through Yuri, that there were two important things I must remember.
First, I should only take two spoonsful a day, one in the morning and one before bed. (and he leered). Taking more than two doses a day could lead to real problems. I suppose in today's TV parlance he was saying that if something lasts more than four hours etc etc.
The second point was that I should tell the customs officers at the Moscow airport that the ginseng was not wild but was from a farm. He explained that the demand from Korea and China for wild Siberian ginseng was so strong that poachers were stripping the Siberian woods of it.
The Russian Government had been forced to ban the export of wild ginseng.
Now, I knew that Boris was a devoted hunter who spent a lot of time in the Siberian woods and I had no doubt that the brown root floating in the vodka was wild.
I thanked Boris and he wished me a good holiday (with another leer).
I took the bottle home to my apartment and tried to figure out what to do. Should I take the jar home with me?
Leaving aside the question of whether I could benefit from a ginseng assist, my main concern was the Russian customs officers. They x-rayed all bags leaving the country and it wouldn't be hard to spot a glass jar with a metal lid.
I had had a run-in with the customs officers on a previous trip when they claimed a carpet was more than 50 years old, which it wasn't, and therefore needed a permit. (We finally gave the carpet to Yuri who always waited just outside the Customs area until he was sure that we had got through safely. Later on we found a way to get the carpet out---but that's another story.)
My main concern was that I would be held up at the check point and miss my once-a-day flight to London.
Finally, I decided to leave the ginseng in the fridge in the apartment.
It stayed there---untasted and untested---until I was packing to move back to Canada.
And then I decided to throw it out.
Looking back, I think that was a mistake.
If only I had been braver---had been prepared to defy the custom officers---I might have brought back to the West a cure for ED.
And we would have been spared a decade of TV commercials of cuddling couples heading off to the bedroom, accompanied by voice-over medical warnings.
If only....
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
See you next Sunday for Posting #62 with more stories from our family’s universe! If you have comments or suggestions, please leave a comment at the bottom of this posting, or email me at johnpathunter@cs.com.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
POSTING #60
Chance Encounter at Moscow's Sheremetyevo Airport
In the spring of 1996, Pat and I were sitting in the British Airways departure lounge in Moscow waiting for a flight to London. Pat had been in Moscow for one of her periodic visits and I was returning to Canada for a short holiday.
I noticed that the man sitting on my left had a Maple Leaf tag on his carry-on case, and I saw him see that I had a similar tag on my bag.
We then began the usual "Where-are-you-from-in-Canada?" conversation.
The man, who was in his early 60's, slim, with an open, friendly face, said that he was from Toronto.
I told him we were from Ottawa and that I was working on a technical aid project in Russia.
He leaned toward us and peppered Pat and me with questions about the project and how we liked working in Russia.
It was clear that he approved of the work we were doing, and that he was envious of the chance it gave us to travel all over Russia.
When I had a chance, I asked him what he did.
"I'm in the food service business", he replied cryptically and then returned to questions about our project.
As we chatted I tried to connect some dots---a man from Toronto, in the food service business, visiting Russia....
Could he be connected to the hugely successful restaurants that McDonald's Canada had been opening in the Moscow and elsewhere?
Finally I hazarded, "Are you with McDonald's,"
He said he was George Cohon and that he was head of McDonald's Canada and McDonald's Russia.
I quietly kicked myself.
All Canadians in Russia were proud of McDonald's success in the terribly challenging business environment in Russia at the time.
When our Canadian consultants came to Russia to work on the project they all wanted to see three things: Red Square, the Bolshoi--- and the Russian McDonald's.
But the man behind the McDonald's invasion was not well known in 1996.
As we waited for the flight he told us fascinating stories about how his company had fought both the Canadian and Russian bureaucracies to realize his dream of opening restaurants in Russia.
The story I liked best was his approach to Soviet officials at the 1976 Montreal Olympics.
The Department of External Affairs in Ottawa wanted to entertain a group of Russian officials who were responsible for the organization of the 1980 Olympics in Moscow but couldn't find a place to meet. One of the diplomats heard that McDonald's had a custom coach on the Olympic site and asked Cohon if they could borrow it for a meeting with the Russians.
Cohon agreed.
The Cohons---George and his wife and two sons---were finishing a day of touring Olympic events when they noticed that the Russians were just getting out of the coach.
George said that they should go over and meet the Russians. His wife protested that they weren't dressed to meet international visitors.
Cohon just said, "C'mon" and started to push through a cordon of RCMP, KGB and Canadian diplomats with his hand out, saying, 'Hello, I'm George Cohon, head of McDonald's Restaurants."
A Canadian diplomat said he couldn't meet with the Russians without the approval of Protocol in Ottawa. George pointed at the coach and said, "That's my bus", and continued moving ahead, giving out his business card as he went.
Now, his card is not like a normal card but is in the shape of a Big Mac. It entitles the holder to a free Big Mac.
He somehow managed to get through to the officials and soon---he's a very engaging fellow---was laughing and joking with the Russians.
After a jolly time, the Russians invited the Cohon family to have dinner with them.
George had been to Russia and understood that when a Russian invites you to dinner, you don't decline. So he agreed to the invitation but suggested that they take a few minutes before dinner to visit one of his restaurants---the McDonald's on Montreal's St. Catherine Street.
Despite protests from diplomats and security people from both countries, George led the officials to the McDonald's.
According to Cohon, they were totally amazed by the brightness and cleanliness of the restaurant, and by the price and quality of the burgers, fries and drinks.
When he asked the officials if they would like to have a McDonald's in Moscow, they all agreed wholeheartedly.
The meeting inspired George to begin a long fight to open some McDonald's in Russia but it wasn't until 1990 that he finally succeeded.
It required real chutzpah to imagine that it would be possible to create a chain of Western restaurants in the Soviet Union in the middle of the Cold War.
Having received permission to open a McDonald's, Cohon faced a huge problem in finding Russian suppliers who could provide high quality items---potatoes, beef, milk etc.---on a consistent basis. He told us that the Russian produce just didn't measure up and (in 1996) McDonald's was importing almost all of the food and materials they needed.
This didn't surprise us.
We had tried local products and except for bread (which was excellent, especially if you could persuade a surly clerk to sell you a fresh loaf) had opted for products from Western Europe.
I was reminded of our 1996 meeting with George Cohon by a recent newspaper article that said that McDonald's was now buying virtually all of its raw materials in Russia.
What progress this represents for Russia's agricultural and manufacturing industries!!
When our flight was called, George Cohon gave each of us a Big Mac business card, and ---with what I sensed was a little bit of uncharacteristic embarrassment---reminded us that the cards could be exchanged at any McDonald's in Canada or Russia for a Big Mac.
Of course, we didn't cash in the cards.
They are tucked away with the other memorabilia from our Russian adventure.
The stories Cohon told us and many more are included in his highly entertaining autobiography, "To Russia with Fries", which was published in 1997, the year after we met him at Sheremetyevo Airport.
The book, which has a warm and gracious introduction by Mikhail Gorbachev, was written with the help of David Macfarlane, a writer I have long admired.
It's a good read, and I highly recommend it.
Some More Stories from our Trip South
Here are some road signs we saw in Pennsylvania that were new to us:
---"High Accident Area"
---"Beware of Aggressive Drivers"
---"Aggressive Driver Zone Next 5 Miles"
---"Beware of DUI Drivers"
As we drove along we tried to figure out what could be the thinking behind the signs.
Was it, "There isn't enough money to provide adequate policing so we'll just stick up some signs."
Or, "We (the state officials) are practicing CYA. If anything nasty happens to the motorists, they can't say they weren't warned."
Or, "We are moving to a new policy of greater transparency and thus we are publicizing the risks."
Or whatever....
We also wondered---as we continued our drive---whether this new posting of risks would carry over into the towns and cities of Pennsylvania. For example, will we see signs saying:
---"High Break and Enter Area"
---"Beware of Muggers"
---"Aggressive Hookers for next 5 Blocks"
---"High Arson Zone"
Just asking....
000
Virginia seems to be taking a leaf from Pennsylvania's book, with this sign:
---"Beware of Abandoned Cars"
We decided that we hoped the abandoned cars were on the shoulder, and not on the road itself.
000
There was one new Pennsylvania sign that made us smile and nod in agreement:
---"Buckle Up for the Next Million Miles"
000
Finally, here is the absolutely last story we will tell about Emporia VA.
As we packed the car to continue our trip home, the skies had cleared but there was a lot of ice by the front door of the hotel.
After nearly falling, I went to the check-in counter and suggested to the clerk that they should put some salt on the ice.
Pointing to an assistant who was bent over the desk doing something, she said, "We are already working on it."
I looked more closely at the assistant.
She had beside her a pile of the small sachets of salt that one gets at a fast food outlet and was busy tearing off the tops and emptying the contents into a cereal bowl.
She had about a third of a cup of salt.
We left shaking our heads.
It is clear that it will take all of us---including the good folks in southern Virginia---some time to adjust to what Thomas Friedman called in a recent New York Times column, 'Global Weirding". He argued that this is a more appropriate description of what is happening than 'global warming'.
"The weather gets weird. The hots are expected to get hotter, the wets wetter, the dries drier and the most violent storms more numerous."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
See you next Sunday for Posting #61 with more stories from our family’s universe! If you have comments or suggestions, please leave a comment at the bottom of this posting, or email me at johnpathunter@cs.com.
In the spring of 1996, Pat and I were sitting in the British Airways departure lounge in Moscow waiting for a flight to London. Pat had been in Moscow for one of her periodic visits and I was returning to Canada for a short holiday.
I noticed that the man sitting on my left had a Maple Leaf tag on his carry-on case, and I saw him see that I had a similar tag on my bag.
We then began the usual "Where-are-you-from-in-Canada?" conversation.
The man, who was in his early 60's, slim, with an open, friendly face, said that he was from Toronto.
I told him we were from Ottawa and that I was working on a technical aid project in Russia.
He leaned toward us and peppered Pat and me with questions about the project and how we liked working in Russia.
It was clear that he approved of the work we were doing, and that he was envious of the chance it gave us to travel all over Russia.
When I had a chance, I asked him what he did.
"I'm in the food service business", he replied cryptically and then returned to questions about our project.
As we chatted I tried to connect some dots---a man from Toronto, in the food service business, visiting Russia....
Could he be connected to the hugely successful restaurants that McDonald's Canada had been opening in the Moscow and elsewhere?
Finally I hazarded, "Are you with McDonald's,"
He said he was George Cohon and that he was head of McDonald's Canada and McDonald's Russia.
I quietly kicked myself.
All Canadians in Russia were proud of McDonald's success in the terribly challenging business environment in Russia at the time.
When our Canadian consultants came to Russia to work on the project they all wanted to see three things: Red Square, the Bolshoi--- and the Russian McDonald's.
But the man behind the McDonald's invasion was not well known in 1996.
As we waited for the flight he told us fascinating stories about how his company had fought both the Canadian and Russian bureaucracies to realize his dream of opening restaurants in Russia.
The story I liked best was his approach to Soviet officials at the 1976 Montreal Olympics.
The Department of External Affairs in Ottawa wanted to entertain a group of Russian officials who were responsible for the organization of the 1980 Olympics in Moscow but couldn't find a place to meet. One of the diplomats heard that McDonald's had a custom coach on the Olympic site and asked Cohon if they could borrow it for a meeting with the Russians.
Cohon agreed.
The Cohons---George and his wife and two sons---were finishing a day of touring Olympic events when they noticed that the Russians were just getting out of the coach.
George said that they should go over and meet the Russians. His wife protested that they weren't dressed to meet international visitors.
Cohon just said, "C'mon" and started to push through a cordon of RCMP, KGB and Canadian diplomats with his hand out, saying, 'Hello, I'm George Cohon, head of McDonald's Restaurants."
A Canadian diplomat said he couldn't meet with the Russians without the approval of Protocol in Ottawa. George pointed at the coach and said, "That's my bus", and continued moving ahead, giving out his business card as he went.
Now, his card is not like a normal card but is in the shape of a Big Mac. It entitles the holder to a free Big Mac.
He somehow managed to get through to the officials and soon---he's a very engaging fellow---was laughing and joking with the Russians.
After a jolly time, the Russians invited the Cohon family to have dinner with them.
George had been to Russia and understood that when a Russian invites you to dinner, you don't decline. So he agreed to the invitation but suggested that they take a few minutes before dinner to visit one of his restaurants---the McDonald's on Montreal's St. Catherine Street.
Despite protests from diplomats and security people from both countries, George led the officials to the McDonald's.
According to Cohon, they were totally amazed by the brightness and cleanliness of the restaurant, and by the price and quality of the burgers, fries and drinks.
When he asked the officials if they would like to have a McDonald's in Moscow, they all agreed wholeheartedly.
The meeting inspired George to begin a long fight to open some McDonald's in Russia but it wasn't until 1990 that he finally succeeded.
It required real chutzpah to imagine that it would be possible to create a chain of Western restaurants in the Soviet Union in the middle of the Cold War.
Having received permission to open a McDonald's, Cohon faced a huge problem in finding Russian suppliers who could provide high quality items---potatoes, beef, milk etc.---on a consistent basis. He told us that the Russian produce just didn't measure up and (in 1996) McDonald's was importing almost all of the food and materials they needed.
This didn't surprise us.
We had tried local products and except for bread (which was excellent, especially if you could persuade a surly clerk to sell you a fresh loaf) had opted for products from Western Europe.
I was reminded of our 1996 meeting with George Cohon by a recent newspaper article that said that McDonald's was now buying virtually all of its raw materials in Russia.
What progress this represents for Russia's agricultural and manufacturing industries!!
When our flight was called, George Cohon gave each of us a Big Mac business card, and ---with what I sensed was a little bit of uncharacteristic embarrassment---reminded us that the cards could be exchanged at any McDonald's in Canada or Russia for a Big Mac.
Of course, we didn't cash in the cards.
They are tucked away with the other memorabilia from our Russian adventure.
The stories Cohon told us and many more are included in his highly entertaining autobiography, "To Russia with Fries", which was published in 1997, the year after we met him at Sheremetyevo Airport.
The book, which has a warm and gracious introduction by Mikhail Gorbachev, was written with the help of David Macfarlane, a writer I have long admired.
It's a good read, and I highly recommend it.
Some More Stories from our Trip South
Here are some road signs we saw in Pennsylvania that were new to us:
---"High Accident Area"
---"Beware of Aggressive Drivers"
---"Aggressive Driver Zone Next 5 Miles"
---"Beware of DUI Drivers"
As we drove along we tried to figure out what could be the thinking behind the signs.
Was it, "There isn't enough money to provide adequate policing so we'll just stick up some signs."
Or, "We (the state officials) are practicing CYA. If anything nasty happens to the motorists, they can't say they weren't warned."
Or, "We are moving to a new policy of greater transparency and thus we are publicizing the risks."
Or whatever....
We also wondered---as we continued our drive---whether this new posting of risks would carry over into the towns and cities of Pennsylvania. For example, will we see signs saying:
---"High Break and Enter Area"
---"Beware of Muggers"
---"Aggressive Hookers for next 5 Blocks"
---"High Arson Zone"
Just asking....
000
Virginia seems to be taking a leaf from Pennsylvania's book, with this sign:
---"Beware of Abandoned Cars"
We decided that we hoped the abandoned cars were on the shoulder, and not on the road itself.
000
There was one new Pennsylvania sign that made us smile and nod in agreement:
---"Buckle Up for the Next Million Miles"
000
Finally, here is the absolutely last story we will tell about Emporia VA.
As we packed the car to continue our trip home, the skies had cleared but there was a lot of ice by the front door of the hotel.
After nearly falling, I went to the check-in counter and suggested to the clerk that they should put some salt on the ice.
Pointing to an assistant who was bent over the desk doing something, she said, "We are already working on it."
I looked more closely at the assistant.
She had beside her a pile of the small sachets of salt that one gets at a fast food outlet and was busy tearing off the tops and emptying the contents into a cereal bowl.
She had about a third of a cup of salt.
We left shaking our heads.
It is clear that it will take all of us---including the good folks in southern Virginia---some time to adjust to what Thomas Friedman called in a recent New York Times column, 'Global Weirding". He argued that this is a more appropriate description of what is happening than 'global warming'.
"The weather gets weird. The hots are expected to get hotter, the wets wetter, the dries drier and the most violent storms more numerous."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
See you next Sunday for Posting #61 with more stories from our family’s universe! If you have comments or suggestions, please leave a comment at the bottom of this posting, or email me at johnpathunter@cs.com.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
POSTING #59
"May you live in interesting times" (Supposedly an Ancient Chinese Curse)
Our trip south this year---we left Virgil on December 23rd for Hilton Head and arrived back on February 1st---was a classic case of 'living in interesting times'.
Pat has catalogued all the grim and gory details in an email to a friend, which she has kindly allowed me to reproduce below.
As you read the email, I would ask you to think about what we might have done to deserve this Job-like testing.
I will return to that issue after Pat's account of our woes.
000
"Before we left on December 23rd, I (Pat) had what was diagnosed as probably a light case of shingles - so we cancelled our family Christmas because some of us had not had chicken pox. I was given a strong anti-viral pill which I ate all of (love the grammar).
"Set out on the 23rd, and arrived on the 24th in a tiny town called Emporia on the border between Virginia and North Carolina. DO NOT EVER GO
THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We had been there before, stayed at a good hotel, and had dinner at a great locally owned restaurant.
"That is why we stayed there this time.
We had made better time driving than we had expected and since our villa rental didn't start until the 26th we decided to spend two nights in Emporia. We booked a hotel for Christmas Eve and Christmas night Found that the locally owned restaurant was closed over Christmas week, went for dinner to Applebee's which was fine.
"Christmas Day came and we thought we would do a repeat on dinner.
"THINK AGAIN.
"Everything was closed - and I mean ALL the restaurants. A drug store was open until 3 pm so we hustled over there and bought 2 pull-tab cans of baked beans and a bag of bagel chips and 2 yogurts.
"That was Christmas dinner
"So we went out the next day and arrived at the house in HH on Saturday.
"Unknown to me, John had been having a toothache during the trip so on Monday we hustled off to a dentist who said the tooth was really rotten and should be pulled.
"Tuesday it was pulled and now for a week of antibiotics.
"Also, the high-speed access for the computer did not work so we could not email kids or pay bills etc.
"And the cold weather set in and it was rocking between plus freezing and minus freezing --- AND THE FURNACE DIED. Died as in pulling in cold air from outside and whipping it around the house.
"So we hopped in the car and trotted off to Fort Myers in Florida - saw friends and explored the city and even there it was cold but the hotel was warm.
"At the end of that week our landlady assured us that the furnace was fixed so we returned to HH. We arrived at night to find that the furnace was indeed NOT fixed - phoned said landlady but no answer.
"Off to the nearest Crowne Plaza hotel which was going to be at her expense let me tell you! And was.
"And furnace got fixed.
"So there was a week in there when things were basically OK - but oh, was it cold!
"Then there was a call on John's cell phone at 4 AM from our alarm company, ADT. The phone didn't actually ring at 4 AM--- reception is poor because of all the tall palm trees---but the ADT operator left a message that our sump pump sensor back in Virgil had just gone off.
"We got the message four hours later when we woke up.
"With visions of water flooding our newly finished basement and heading up the stairs, we called our contractor, who still has a key for our house.
"He found that everything was fine---some water had just splashed up on the sensor and set off the alarm.
"Then, back in HH, the toaster died, the delicate cycle on the washer died, the knob to open the door on the dishwasher died, and on the last day the insinkerator died.
"So far, we had not died.
"However, I was having somewhat of a relapse of maybe shingles or maybe an allergy and trotted of to a medicine lady who prescribe the same pills as I had before but to the tune of $345.
"We set out for home a day early because a storm with snow and ice was to come through HH on Sat. But it hit early. However I-95 was OK all the way to Emporia (yes, we are going back to Emporia on the assumption that everything would be open because it was not Christmas).
"WRONG!
"The next day everything was closed - a Snow Day - all the restaurants were closed. Now then, it is the end of the month, and we have masses of people on the road traveling north to go home after a month away, and masses of people traveling south to spend the rest of the winter in Florida etc.
"They are all stopping in Emporia for the night intending to carry on the next day -- they all need to be fed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So down to the Red Lion grocery store which was going to close at 3pm (the night before they had run out of milk!). So the snow and ice were coming down in droves. All the people in the hotel were stuck.
We ate nuked frozen food for dinner with some yoghurt---a step up from baked beans, wouldn't you say!
"The next day, we set out from Emporia and the journey thru Virginia on I-95 was a positive nightmare. They had not ploughed at all in places, and in most places they had just ploughed one lane and we are in the midst of heavy car traffic and truck traffic like you would not believe -- all wanting the same 2 ruts in the road.
"At least the snow and ice in the sky had stopped.
"When we arrived in Pennsylvania everything was fine and remained so for the rest of the trip.
"But to cap it all off, the people in South Carolina are no longer the
lovely Southern charmers they used to be. That is another story."
000
So maybe old Job's afflictions were worse than ours, but I think you will agree that our experiences do sound like 'living in interesting times'.
What (or who) cursed us?
I have a theory.
You may recall that in Posting #6 on February 8, 2009 I told how the Hunters brought with them from Wales in 1907 the tradition that required that the father in a household had to eat 12 mince tarts between Christmas and New Years so that the family would be protected against bad luck for the coming 12 months.
Although Pat was initially sceptical, she has churned out 12 tarts each holiday season for 49 years except for the time we were in Baku, Azerbaijan and couldn't get the ingredients. The health and other problems that followed us that year convinced Pat that the custom should not be trifled with.
So, before setting out for Hilton Head, Pat baked tarts, which we stowed with the spare tire so they would stay cool.
On Christmas Day, I ate a couple of tarts (Pat forgot about those in her description of our Christmas dinner in Emporia). Everything was going well until I had my rotten molar extracted on December 29th.
The dentist warned me about being careful not to disturb the clot where the tooth used to be and went on at great length about the dangers of 'dry socket'---what a horrible-sounding ailment.
He suggested I live on cold, liquid food for 4 or 5 days, until the clot was thick and sturdy.
With 6 tarts still to go, I was in trouble.
Our rental place had a blender so I experimented with smoothies, throwing in milk, yoghurt, cottage cheese, apricot jam, ice cream, Ovaltine and other goodies from the back of the fridge. The drinks weren't bad, by the way (recipes provided on request).
But what about the mince tarts?
I decided that the only thing was to add them to the smoothie ingredients and moosh them in the blender.
Our most serious problems (broken furnace etc.) started almost immediately after the mooshing of the tarts.
I've concluded that trolls and dragons sleeping in the Welsh mountains were jarred awake by the indignity being inflicted upon the tarts. Angry at being awakened, they decided to teach us a lesson.
The moral of the story is clear.
If you have any Welsh blood in you, don't moosh your mince tarts.
000
Some Verbal Snapshots of our Holiday
What a difference there has been in the last 12 months in the attitude of people in Hilton Head and other parts of the US!
In Posting #6, February 8, 2009 (referred to above) I described attending a lunch to celebrate the inauguration of President Obama. Everything was hope and optimism. Change was possible and people were so happy to see the end of the Bush Administration.
Now, there is a great deal of anger and a deep underlying fear. People seem more short-tempered, more testy, more mean spirited. We were honked more than ever before as we tried to find the right road, and there were more insults about Canada's weather.
000
We had a chat with a retired professor of political science after a presentation he made at the Hilton Head library on what should be done about Iran and nuclear arms. I asked if he thought that there could be a rational discussion of the issue in the country.
He shook his head and said that he couldn't see how the US could have a rational discussion of the Iran issue, or of the other domestic and foreign issues that confront the country. He said he had never seen such polarization of the nation. "Everything, just everything, is polarized."
000
Last year, the slips in the harbour at Sea Pines---the posh development on the south of the Hilton Head Island---were all full of large, expensive pleasure boats. This year, half the slips were empty.
000
Each Friday, the Island Packet, Hilton Head's daily newspaper, had 8 or 9 pages of small-type legal notices announcing upcoming auctions of foreclosed properties.
000
An experienced real estate agent in Fort Myers, Florida told us that the housing market seemed to be coping reasonably well with a large number of foreclosed homes and condos in the $100,000 to 300,000 range---thanks to buyers from the northern US and Canada. However, she was worried about whether the owners of more expensive homes, who had been holding on waiting for a recovery in housing prices, might be forced to give up their homes. A surge of more expensive homes onto the market could badly destabilize the situation.
In the interest of full disclosure, we got bitten by the 'buy-a-cheap-Florida-home' bug ourselves but the 'infection' lasted only a few days. The more we looked at the idea, the more we decided we didn't have the financial acumen, the energy, or, finally, the interest to make a sound purchase. Good buys are available --- a Canadian friend, who is a retired banker, and his wife have bought a beautiful home at a very reasonable price---but the scamsters who got the US into its real estate crisis are everywhere. Caveat emptor!
000
So, a glum and difficult time for the US society and economy but we had a reminder that one should never underestimate the American entrepreneurial creativity and resiliency.
Our landlady, upset by the furnace problems, sent us a "Lobstergram" from someone named "Lobster Dan" in Maine.
A few days later UPS delivered a large box that included 2 good-sized, live lobsters, an enamel pot, and all the things needed for a lobster dinner including a lemon, butter, nutcrackers, picks and bibs.
And a sheet on cooking the lobster (e.g. "rubbing the back of the lobsters before putting them in the boiling water relaxes them").
Pat and I had a delicious lobster feast.
I marvel at the ability of American entrepreneurs to put together an attractive package, market it well and then deliver it on time and in superb condition.
It is not really relevant I guess but I get a kick out of studying the UPS computer tracking record.
The tracking (that starts at the bottom) shows that the lobster package was picked up at 5.29 PM on January 12 in Maine and was in Hilton Head by 8.28 the next morning (we got it around 2 PM).
As Martha S. would say, "How good is that!"
Location Date Local Time Description What's This?
HILTON HEAD, SC, US 01/13/2010 8:28 A.M. OUT FOR DELIVERY
01/13/2010 8:27 A.M. ARRIVAL SCAN
WEST COLUMBIA, SC, US 01/13/2010 5:33 A.M. DEPARTURE SCAN
01/13/2010 4:49 A.M. FORWARDED TO THE FACILITY IN THE DESTINATION CITY
01/13/2010 3:55 A.M. ARRIVAL SCAN
PHILADELPHIA, PA, US 01/13/2010 2:41 A.M. DEPARTURE SCAN
01/13/2010 12:01 A.M. ARRIVAL SCAN
MANCHESTER, NH, US 01/12/2010 10:46 P.M. DEPARTURE SCAN
01/12/2010 10:17 P.M. ARRIVAL SCAN
SO. PORTLAND, ME, US 01/12/2010 8:25 P.M. DEPARTURE SCAN
01/12/2010 5:29 P.M. ORIGIN SCAN
US 01/12/2010 4:24 P.M. BILLING INFORMATION RECEIVED
Tracking results provided by UPS: 01/13/2010 9:47 A.M. ET
000
A final note on our holiday.
We went to The Soup Kitchen, an annual event to raise money for a charity that provides free medical and dental care to the poor. Guests pay $10 and get a hospital-style wrist band that entitles them to sample signature soups from 30 local chefs.
We overheard a man who was standing in a line for some seafood gumbo and cornbread tell a friend this joke:
A kid from the south went north to a fine school - came home for
Christmas and saw an old school friend who says "Well, whatchalearn up in Yankee
country "?
Kid says. "Well, I learned a lot about pi r squared.
Friend says, "That's stoopid. Everybody knows pie are round --- cornbread are square."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
See you next Sunday for Posting #60 with more stories from our family’s universe! If you have comments or suggestions, please leave a comment at the bottom of this posting, or email me at johnpathunter@cs.com.
Our trip south this year---we left Virgil on December 23rd for Hilton Head and arrived back on February 1st---was a classic case of 'living in interesting times'.
Pat has catalogued all the grim and gory details in an email to a friend, which she has kindly allowed me to reproduce below.
As you read the email, I would ask you to think about what we might have done to deserve this Job-like testing.
I will return to that issue after Pat's account of our woes.
000
"Before we left on December 23rd, I (Pat) had what was diagnosed as probably a light case of shingles - so we cancelled our family Christmas because some of us had not had chicken pox. I was given a strong anti-viral pill which I ate all of (love the grammar).
"Set out on the 23rd, and arrived on the 24th in a tiny town called Emporia on the border between Virginia and North Carolina. DO NOT EVER GO
THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We had been there before, stayed at a good hotel, and had dinner at a great locally owned restaurant.
"That is why we stayed there this time.
We had made better time driving than we had expected and since our villa rental didn't start until the 26th we decided to spend two nights in Emporia. We booked a hotel for Christmas Eve and Christmas night Found that the locally owned restaurant was closed over Christmas week, went for dinner to Applebee's which was fine.
"Christmas Day came and we thought we would do a repeat on dinner.
"THINK AGAIN.
"Everything was closed - and I mean ALL the restaurants. A drug store was open until 3 pm so we hustled over there and bought 2 pull-tab cans of baked beans and a bag of bagel chips and 2 yogurts.
"That was Christmas dinner
"So we went out the next day and arrived at the house in HH on Saturday.
"Unknown to me, John had been having a toothache during the trip so on Monday we hustled off to a dentist who said the tooth was really rotten and should be pulled.
"Tuesday it was pulled and now for a week of antibiotics.
"Also, the high-speed access for the computer did not work so we could not email kids or pay bills etc.
"And the cold weather set in and it was rocking between plus freezing and minus freezing --- AND THE FURNACE DIED. Died as in pulling in cold air from outside and whipping it around the house.
"So we hopped in the car and trotted off to Fort Myers in Florida - saw friends and explored the city and even there it was cold but the hotel was warm.
"At the end of that week our landlady assured us that the furnace was fixed so we returned to HH. We arrived at night to find that the furnace was indeed NOT fixed - phoned said landlady but no answer.
"Off to the nearest Crowne Plaza hotel which was going to be at her expense let me tell you! And was.
"And furnace got fixed.
"So there was a week in there when things were basically OK - but oh, was it cold!
"Then there was a call on John's cell phone at 4 AM from our alarm company, ADT. The phone didn't actually ring at 4 AM--- reception is poor because of all the tall palm trees---but the ADT operator left a message that our sump pump sensor back in Virgil had just gone off.
"We got the message four hours later when we woke up.
"With visions of water flooding our newly finished basement and heading up the stairs, we called our contractor, who still has a key for our house.
"He found that everything was fine---some water had just splashed up on the sensor and set off the alarm.
"Then, back in HH, the toaster died, the delicate cycle on the washer died, the knob to open the door on the dishwasher died, and on the last day the insinkerator died.
"So far, we had not died.
"However, I was having somewhat of a relapse of maybe shingles or maybe an allergy and trotted of to a medicine lady who prescribe the same pills as I had before but to the tune of $345.
"We set out for home a day early because a storm with snow and ice was to come through HH on Sat. But it hit early. However I-95 was OK all the way to Emporia (yes, we are going back to Emporia on the assumption that everything would be open because it was not Christmas).
"WRONG!
"The next day everything was closed - a Snow Day - all the restaurants were closed. Now then, it is the end of the month, and we have masses of people on the road traveling north to go home after a month away, and masses of people traveling south to spend the rest of the winter in Florida etc.
"They are all stopping in Emporia for the night intending to carry on the next day -- they all need to be fed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So down to the Red Lion grocery store which was going to close at 3pm (the night before they had run out of milk!). So the snow and ice were coming down in droves. All the people in the hotel were stuck.
We ate nuked frozen food for dinner with some yoghurt---a step up from baked beans, wouldn't you say!
"The next day, we set out from Emporia and the journey thru Virginia on I-95 was a positive nightmare. They had not ploughed at all in places, and in most places they had just ploughed one lane and we are in the midst of heavy car traffic and truck traffic like you would not believe -- all wanting the same 2 ruts in the road.
"At least the snow and ice in the sky had stopped.
"When we arrived in Pennsylvania everything was fine and remained so for the rest of the trip.
"But to cap it all off, the people in South Carolina are no longer the
lovely Southern charmers they used to be. That is another story."
000
So maybe old Job's afflictions were worse than ours, but I think you will agree that our experiences do sound like 'living in interesting times'.
What (or who) cursed us?
I have a theory.
You may recall that in Posting #6 on February 8, 2009 I told how the Hunters brought with them from Wales in 1907 the tradition that required that the father in a household had to eat 12 mince tarts between Christmas and New Years so that the family would be protected against bad luck for the coming 12 months.
Although Pat was initially sceptical, she has churned out 12 tarts each holiday season for 49 years except for the time we were in Baku, Azerbaijan and couldn't get the ingredients. The health and other problems that followed us that year convinced Pat that the custom should not be trifled with.
So, before setting out for Hilton Head, Pat baked tarts, which we stowed with the spare tire so they would stay cool.
On Christmas Day, I ate a couple of tarts (Pat forgot about those in her description of our Christmas dinner in Emporia). Everything was going well until I had my rotten molar extracted on December 29th.
The dentist warned me about being careful not to disturb the clot where the tooth used to be and went on at great length about the dangers of 'dry socket'---what a horrible-sounding ailment.
He suggested I live on cold, liquid food for 4 or 5 days, until the clot was thick and sturdy.
With 6 tarts still to go, I was in trouble.
Our rental place had a blender so I experimented with smoothies, throwing in milk, yoghurt, cottage cheese, apricot jam, ice cream, Ovaltine and other goodies from the back of the fridge. The drinks weren't bad, by the way (recipes provided on request).
But what about the mince tarts?
I decided that the only thing was to add them to the smoothie ingredients and moosh them in the blender.
Our most serious problems (broken furnace etc.) started almost immediately after the mooshing of the tarts.
I've concluded that trolls and dragons sleeping in the Welsh mountains were jarred awake by the indignity being inflicted upon the tarts. Angry at being awakened, they decided to teach us a lesson.
The moral of the story is clear.
If you have any Welsh blood in you, don't moosh your mince tarts.
000
Some Verbal Snapshots of our Holiday
What a difference there has been in the last 12 months in the attitude of people in Hilton Head and other parts of the US!
In Posting #6, February 8, 2009 (referred to above) I described attending a lunch to celebrate the inauguration of President Obama. Everything was hope and optimism. Change was possible and people were so happy to see the end of the Bush Administration.
Now, there is a great deal of anger and a deep underlying fear. People seem more short-tempered, more testy, more mean spirited. We were honked more than ever before as we tried to find the right road, and there were more insults about Canada's weather.
000
We had a chat with a retired professor of political science after a presentation he made at the Hilton Head library on what should be done about Iran and nuclear arms. I asked if he thought that there could be a rational discussion of the issue in the country.
He shook his head and said that he couldn't see how the US could have a rational discussion of the Iran issue, or of the other domestic and foreign issues that confront the country. He said he had never seen such polarization of the nation. "Everything, just everything, is polarized."
000
Last year, the slips in the harbour at Sea Pines---the posh development on the south of the Hilton Head Island---were all full of large, expensive pleasure boats. This year, half the slips were empty.
000
Each Friday, the Island Packet, Hilton Head's daily newspaper, had 8 or 9 pages of small-type legal notices announcing upcoming auctions of foreclosed properties.
000
An experienced real estate agent in Fort Myers, Florida told us that the housing market seemed to be coping reasonably well with a large number of foreclosed homes and condos in the $100,000 to 300,000 range---thanks to buyers from the northern US and Canada. However, she was worried about whether the owners of more expensive homes, who had been holding on waiting for a recovery in housing prices, might be forced to give up their homes. A surge of more expensive homes onto the market could badly destabilize the situation.
In the interest of full disclosure, we got bitten by the 'buy-a-cheap-Florida-home' bug ourselves but the 'infection' lasted only a few days. The more we looked at the idea, the more we decided we didn't have the financial acumen, the energy, or, finally, the interest to make a sound purchase. Good buys are available --- a Canadian friend, who is a retired banker, and his wife have bought a beautiful home at a very reasonable price---but the scamsters who got the US into its real estate crisis are everywhere. Caveat emptor!
000
So, a glum and difficult time for the US society and economy but we had a reminder that one should never underestimate the American entrepreneurial creativity and resiliency.
Our landlady, upset by the furnace problems, sent us a "Lobstergram" from someone named "Lobster Dan" in Maine.
A few days later UPS delivered a large box that included 2 good-sized, live lobsters, an enamel pot, and all the things needed for a lobster dinner including a lemon, butter, nutcrackers, picks and bibs.
And a sheet on cooking the lobster (e.g. "rubbing the back of the lobsters before putting them in the boiling water relaxes them").
Pat and I had a delicious lobster feast.
I marvel at the ability of American entrepreneurs to put together an attractive package, market it well and then deliver it on time and in superb condition.
It is not really relevant I guess but I get a kick out of studying the UPS computer tracking record.
The tracking (that starts at the bottom) shows that the lobster package was picked up at 5.29 PM on January 12 in Maine and was in Hilton Head by 8.28 the next morning (we got it around 2 PM).
As Martha S. would say, "How good is that!"
Location Date Local Time Description What's This?
HILTON HEAD, SC, US 01/13/2010 8:28 A.M. OUT FOR DELIVERY
01/13/2010 8:27 A.M. ARRIVAL SCAN
WEST COLUMBIA, SC, US 01/13/2010 5:33 A.M. DEPARTURE SCAN
01/13/2010 4:49 A.M. FORWARDED TO THE FACILITY IN THE DESTINATION CITY
01/13/2010 3:55 A.M. ARRIVAL SCAN
PHILADELPHIA, PA, US 01/13/2010 2:41 A.M. DEPARTURE SCAN
01/13/2010 12:01 A.M. ARRIVAL SCAN
MANCHESTER, NH, US 01/12/2010 10:46 P.M. DEPARTURE SCAN
01/12/2010 10:17 P.M. ARRIVAL SCAN
SO. PORTLAND, ME, US 01/12/2010 8:25 P.M. DEPARTURE SCAN
01/12/2010 5:29 P.M. ORIGIN SCAN
US 01/12/2010 4:24 P.M. BILLING INFORMATION RECEIVED
Tracking results provided by UPS: 01/13/2010 9:47 A.M. ET
000
A final note on our holiday.
We went to The Soup Kitchen, an annual event to raise money for a charity that provides free medical and dental care to the poor. Guests pay $10 and get a hospital-style wrist band that entitles them to sample signature soups from 30 local chefs.
We overheard a man who was standing in a line for some seafood gumbo and cornbread tell a friend this joke:
A kid from the south went north to a fine school - came home for
Christmas and saw an old school friend who says "Well, whatchalearn up in Yankee
country "?
Kid says. "Well, I learned a lot about pi r squared.
Friend says, "That's stoopid. Everybody knows pie are round --- cornbread are square."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
See you next Sunday for Posting #60 with more stories from our family’s universe! If you have comments or suggestions, please leave a comment at the bottom of this posting, or email me at johnpathunter@cs.com.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
POSTING #58
Red Green
I like Red Green.
There, I've said it---and I feel better.
It has taken me a long time to work up the courage to admit it.
It’s not easy to hold up your hand and say you like Red Green.
For a start, women (whom I also like) can't stand Red Green.
That's more than half the population.
And among men, there are scads who consider the Red Green programs, low-brow, puerile, sophomoric, ridiculous---whatever.
But I still like Red Green.
I am not entirely clear why, but some possible reasons come to mind.
I really identify with the handyman segments: "If your wife can't find you handsome, she should at least find you handy".
It was my fate to be blessed with two brothers who could fix anything.
A roof is leaking. No problem.
A car battery is dead. A piece of cake.
Need a new electrical circuit. Nothing to it.
After trying for years to emulate my brothers, I realize I belong to the group of men who believe the bigger the problem, the bigger the hammer.
I felt good watching Red Green trying to patch up botched handyman projects with duct tape (my favourite remedy was plastic wood).
I also liked the comic performances of superb actors like Gordon Pinsent and his tall-tale-telling character, Hap Shaughnessy, and Graham Greene with his explosives-loving character, Edgar K. B. Montrose (the K.B apparently stood for Ka Boom!).
(Click here for an entertaining Wikipedia article on the Red Green show.)
So, OK, I like Red Green.
But I have always felt that it is something to keep to myself.
Saying you like Red Green is like saying to a seat mate at a concert of the Toronto Symphony Orchestra that you are going to Shelburne on the weekend for the Old Time Fiddle Championship.
Or saying to a group of nutritionists that you love Tim Bits.
That reminds me. I once shocked a devotee of the Stratford Festival by saying that we had been to the Blyth Festival---to see The Ballad of Stompin' Tom. I thought for a time she would need a defibrillator.
Sorry for going on so long about my lamentable lack of sophisticated taste.
But there is a point---and a story.
I was browsing the web recently and came across a website that was featuring a complete set of all the programs for the 12 years Red Green was on the air, plus the pilot that led to the show.
It was a liquidation offer, which suggested that the Red Green organization had over-estimated the demand for the collection and was having to get rid of the unsold DVDs.
With a set of these DVDs I would be able to watch the programs whenever I wanted without having to hunt them down in off-hour reruns, and I would be helping the Red Green folks by taking some of the unsold disks off their hands.
After I ordered the set I learned in the confirmation email that the DVDs would be shipped from an unpronounceable city in China.
From China?
Red Green?
I began to smell a rat.
The DVDs came and as I began to play them it became clear that I had been had.
They were bootlegged versions of the real thing.
The pictures and voices are fine but the music and laughter are badly distorted.
I've done some research and found that there is no authorized, complete collection of the programs---but that the Red Green people plan to release one in 2010.
Now I feel really embarrassed.
It is bad enough to like Red Green but it is even worse to be sucked into a scam that even Harold, Red Green's half-wit nephew, wouldn't have fallen for.
I've decided that I will just have to soldier on, remembering Red's catch line from the segment on advice to men: "Remember, I'm pulling for you. We're all in this together."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
See you next Sunday for Posting #59 with more stories from our family’s universe! If you have comments or suggestions, please leave a comment at the bottom of this posting, or email me at johnpathunter@cs.com.
I like Red Green.
There, I've said it---and I feel better.
It has taken me a long time to work up the courage to admit it.
It’s not easy to hold up your hand and say you like Red Green.
For a start, women (whom I also like) can't stand Red Green.
That's more than half the population.
And among men, there are scads who consider the Red Green programs, low-brow, puerile, sophomoric, ridiculous---whatever.
But I still like Red Green.
I am not entirely clear why, but some possible reasons come to mind.
I really identify with the handyman segments: "If your wife can't find you handsome, she should at least find you handy".
It was my fate to be blessed with two brothers who could fix anything.
A roof is leaking. No problem.
A car battery is dead. A piece of cake.
Need a new electrical circuit. Nothing to it.
After trying for years to emulate my brothers, I realize I belong to the group of men who believe the bigger the problem, the bigger the hammer.
I felt good watching Red Green trying to patch up botched handyman projects with duct tape (my favourite remedy was plastic wood).
I also liked the comic performances of superb actors like Gordon Pinsent and his tall-tale-telling character, Hap Shaughnessy, and Graham Greene with his explosives-loving character, Edgar K. B. Montrose (the K.B apparently stood for Ka Boom!).
(Click here for an entertaining Wikipedia article on the Red Green show.)
So, OK, I like Red Green.
But I have always felt that it is something to keep to myself.
Saying you like Red Green is like saying to a seat mate at a concert of the Toronto Symphony Orchestra that you are going to Shelburne on the weekend for the Old Time Fiddle Championship.
Or saying to a group of nutritionists that you love Tim Bits.
That reminds me. I once shocked a devotee of the Stratford Festival by saying that we had been to the Blyth Festival---to see The Ballad of Stompin' Tom. I thought for a time she would need a defibrillator.
Sorry for going on so long about my lamentable lack of sophisticated taste.
But there is a point---and a story.
I was browsing the web recently and came across a website that was featuring a complete set of all the programs for the 12 years Red Green was on the air, plus the pilot that led to the show.
It was a liquidation offer, which suggested that the Red Green organization had over-estimated the demand for the collection and was having to get rid of the unsold DVDs.
With a set of these DVDs I would be able to watch the programs whenever I wanted without having to hunt them down in off-hour reruns, and I would be helping the Red Green folks by taking some of the unsold disks off their hands.
After I ordered the set I learned in the confirmation email that the DVDs would be shipped from an unpronounceable city in China.
From China?
Red Green?
I began to smell a rat.
The DVDs came and as I began to play them it became clear that I had been had.
They were bootlegged versions of the real thing.
The pictures and voices are fine but the music and laughter are badly distorted.
I've done some research and found that there is no authorized, complete collection of the programs---but that the Red Green people plan to release one in 2010.
Now I feel really embarrassed.
It is bad enough to like Red Green but it is even worse to be sucked into a scam that even Harold, Red Green's half-wit nephew, wouldn't have fallen for.
I've decided that I will just have to soldier on, remembering Red's catch line from the segment on advice to men: "Remember, I'm pulling for you. We're all in this together."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
See you next Sunday for Posting #59 with more stories from our family’s universe! If you have comments or suggestions, please leave a comment at the bottom of this posting, or email me at johnpathunter@cs.com.
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