The False Ducks Blahg

Okay, it’s been a while since my last blahg.  If it’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I’m a procrastinator.  Oh, I have good intentions and left to my own schedule I will eventually get to it; whatever “it” is.  In this case, the “it” is a ten year old cookie.

I don’t know why I forgot about this little event.  It’s only been about five years since the closure of the incident but I’d almost completely wiped it from my memory.  In truth, the incident started about 17 years ago.

In a previous blahg, I talked about staying home with my son Noah for the first 4 years of his life.  That, in itself, was an adventure.  Keeping him entertained day after day was a huge task some days.  One little thing that did make him happy was animal cookies.  Maybe I should call then animal crackers but they’re more like a cookie and he loved those things.  You know the little cookies shaped like different animals of the circus or zoo type.  Give him one of those and he was happy for the time it took to gobble down the animal shaped delicacy. 

One day, in a box of animal cookies I found a very unusual surprise.  Usually all of the cookies are machine cut into the various animal shapes but I found an uncut and uncensored tidbit.  This particular cookie was a combined buffalo and bear shape that had not been separated.  Normally that wouldn’t be such a surprise but in this case the positioning of the buffalo over the bear made it look like the buffalo was performing an indecent act on the bear.  Maybe it was a decent act for all I know because in the animal kingdom I’m sure they don’t have the same hang-ups we have.  In fact the buffalo cookie had an ear shaped like a heart that made it look comically clear what he had on his mind.

I don’t have a picture of what the cookie looked like.  I wish I did.  Needless to say, I set the cookie aside not because I didn’t want my son to eat it but because I had a purpose in mind for that cookie.  I’m not a prude and it wouldn’t have mattered if my son had eaten it because it was just a cookie after all.  My intentions for the cookie were for fame and notoriety or my 15 seconds in the spotlight.  I was going to send that cookie to David Letterman.

If you don’t know who David Letterman is, then you don’t know late night television.  He’s only had one of the top rated night-time talk shows for the last 20 years (probably more but I’m not counting).  On his show he always has a top ten comical list and celebrity guests and humorous segments like stupid pet tricks and stupid human tricks.  I remember in 1995, Letterman propelled another Canadian to the heights of celebrity just because his name was Dick Assman.  I was sure that my cookie find would make me just as famous. 

I carefully wrapped the cookie in layers of tissues and put it away in a small plastic food container.  I believe this was in 1995 or 1996.  This was before the Internet became so prevalent that you could find anything online; including the address to where you would send a cookie to David Letterman.  I was just waiting for the right time.  I told you I procrastinate.

I cannot tell you why it took me ten years but it wasn’t until 2005 that I actually got around to sending the cookie to David Letterman.  Part of it was, we had moved twice in that time and the container with the cookie had been misplaced a couple of times.  The other reason was simply that life happened.  Read my blahg “When A Good Man Goes Missing” and you’ll see what happened during that time period.

Well, it was 2005 and I relocated the cookie and decided to finally send it to David Letterman.  I found the David Letterman show mailing address online, wrote a letter, packaged the cookie carefully and mailed it off.  Here’s what the letter said:

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Mr. David Letterman,

Hi, enclosed pleased find a rather unusual animal cookie that I have been meaning to send you for some time.  It is unusual in more ways than one.  First, it is an unseparated animal cookie that appears to show a buffalo performing an indecent act (or a decent act, hey who am I to pass judgment) on a bear.  You will also notice that the buffalo has an ear shaped like a heart that makes it look comically like he has love on his mind.

The second reason why this animal cookie is unusual is that it is almost 10 years old.  I found this cookie in a box of animal cookies when my son was between one and two years old.  Next month, March 25^th, my son will celebrate his 11^th birthday.  I had put the cookie aside in the enclosed container with full intention of sending it to you but as things happen it was mislaid.  We have moved twice since my son was born and most recently this past December.  Of course in unpacking everything I came across the cookie again.  It’s still intact and hopefully it has arrived that way.

I think it would be very funny if you ate this 10 year old cookie on your show.  After my son was born I took some time off to stay at home with him.  It was only to be a year but then it turned into four years.  One of the things that kept me going that whole time was the thought that maybe someday David Letterman would eat this cookie.  Of course I didn’t imagine that it would be ten years before I actually got around to sending it to you.  If you decide to eat the cookie I have attached my top ten list of things you should consider when deciding to eat the cookie.

 

I also included what I thought was a humorous top ten list that I thought Letterman could read prior to eating the cookie:

 

TOP TEN THINGS TO CONSIDER WHEN DECIDING TO EAT THIS TEN YEAR OLD COOOKIE:

10     It’s an animal cookie and the law of the animal kingdom is eat or be eaten!

09     No buffalo’s going to get away with that on my watch!

08     Mr. Christie doesn’t own me!  Wait, Mr. Christie doesn’t           really own us do they?  Can someone check on that!?

07     The same goes for you Mrs Fields!

06     Hey, what’s another quadruple bi-pass?

05     I’m not really all that hungry, here Paul take half.  Hands off  the Buffalo, I dibbsed it first!

04   Peas Porridge Hot, Peas Porridge Cold, Peas Porridge in the Pot Nine Days Old doesn’t sound half bad right now.

03     Now if it was a Bear doing it to a Buffalo I wouldn’t be having second thoughts right now.

02     Eat it?  I thought you said Ebay.  That grilled cheese sandwich went for $28,000 I bet this cookie would fetch 30 or 35…bucks, easily.

01     Anybody got any 10-year-old milk lying around?

 

Six months went by before I received a reply.  I don’t still have the original letter that I received in response but I think it was a form-letter thanking me for my submission and no real excuse why David Letterman didn’t eat my cookie.  I doubt that David Letterman even saw my cookie.  Probably some flunkie in the mail-room responded with the form-letter.  Enclosed with the letter was a Late Night with David Letterman t-shirt and my container with the cookie.  Unfortunately when I opened the container, the cookie was broken.  So were my dreams of fame.

David Letterman, you broke my cookie.  Maybe it wasn’t you but someone on your staff broke my cookie.  But you’re the host of the show and you’re responsible for your staff.  No wonder I suppressed that memory for the past five years.  Oh, Dick Assman can get on the show because he has a funny name but a little guy with a cookie can’t get ahead in this lousy world.  I’m not bitter!

Needless to say, I don’t have the cookie anymore.  I should have just eaten what was left of it.  By that time, my son was 11 and he wasn’t going to eat an animal cookie he was denied ten years before.  I guess I don’t blame him.

 

 

…I’ll close on a better note.  It’s getting to be near Christmas, with tomorrow being the 1st of December.  I thought in my posts leading up to Christmas I would get around to that Poet’s Corner I talked about in my very first blahg.  Here’s a fun rambling that might make you smile and forget about your own broken cookies:

 

dear Santa

I was maybe nine

when my parents

up and told me

there’s no Santa Claus

and I suspected

at the time

that they weren’t

bein’ truthful ‘bout that

 

but now

I’m pretty sure

they were

mistaken

‘cause I saw old Nick

the other day

at the mall

and I can’t help wonderin’

if he knows

parents are tryin’

to suppress

his existence

all over

 

and why is that?

what have parents got

against Santa?

 

ya know it just might be

that Nick’s too powerful

fer the average parent

‘cause all year long

moms and dads

try to discipline

their kids

without success

but ya mention

Santa

anywhere near Christmas

and control is

immediately established

 

and maybe that’s it!

maybe parents

get their egos bruised

by the idea

of some

white bearded old goat

havin’ more clout

than them

 

and maybe that’s why

after eight or nine years

the kids are told

this lie

about St. Nicholas

bein’ a myth

so’s parents can say

“LISTEN UP,

WE’RE THE BOSS.

THERE’S NO SANTA

JUST US

AND YOU EITHER

LIKE IT

OR LUMP IT!”

 

but I’m not sayin’

I disagree with

this method

‘cause at some point

ya gotta outgrow

the need for Santa Claus

and ya gotta depend

on the family

and what they can do

fer ya

and ya’ll be

a better person

more rounded

not in the gut

like Santa

but in yer outlook

 

sure, the method’s okay

but what if

ya reversed the order

and said right off

right at birth

“KID YOU’RE GONNA HEAR A LOT

ABOUT THIS

SANTA CLAUS

BUT DON’T BELIEVE IT.

WE’RE THE ONES

YOU HAVE TO RESPECT.

WE’RE THE ONES

WHO ARE

LOOKING OUT FOR YOU.”

 

and maybe later

when the kids are older

and have lost

all faith

in mankind

and have given up

on anything magical

ya set ‘em straight

‘bout Nick

 

ya tell ‘em

ya lied

and there really is

this St. Nicholas guy

and he’s alright

and as long as

they believe in him

they’ll be alright too

 

and wouldn’t it be easier

that way?

wouldn’t it be nicer

to know

ya haven’t ruined

yer kid’s entire life?

 

sure tell ‘em ‘bout Santa

and they’ll pass the word

and they’ll believe

and behave

and ya’ll have

no more problems

in discipline

if ya use Nick’s name

 

‘cept maybe ‘round Easter

when his moniker

brings no pull

whatsoever

 

Far be it for me to preach about something but if you noticed a few odd characters in the title of this blahg then you will realize right away that I’m passionate about this topic.  If you’re reading this on your cell phone, smart phone, Ipad, Ipod or any other device that requires your hands, then I at least hope you’re not in a movie theater or behind the wheels of an automobile.  If any of that applies to you then this whole blahg is for your benefit.

Let me start by saying that I am not against cell phones.  I happen to own one of these devices.  Granted, I won mine from a pop-machine.  That’s right, a pop-machine.  It’s not a long story.  I bought a bottle of diet pepsi at work from a pop-machine and the label said to look for a code under the cap and enter it online to be eligible for prizes.  Pepsi was giving away random daily prizes of cell phones and other things and I entered my code and was told my name would go into the draw for the daily prize.  Two days later I was notified by email that I had won the cell phone and I just needed to provide my shipping address.  A few more days passed and the phone arrived.  Pepsi was as good as their word or as good as their drink (which I have since given up but that’s another story).

Want to see my phone?  Look at the picture.  It’s a Sony Ericsson W300i.  It’s certainly not state of the art when compared to all of the phones on the market.  It’s key features are the ability to play mp3 files and receive radio signals when the ear buds are plugged in.  Oh yes, it can be used as a phone and can send and receive texts.  That’s a useful function because I usually send an average of 4 or 5 texts a year.  I also only make 4 or 5 phone calls a month.  I use it as an emergency phone and have since stopped using it to listen to the radio or the several odd Sinatra songs I’ve stored on it.  It’s still 100% functional and I pay $10 a month for the privilege of carrying around this basic paperweight. 

The point of this blahg is not about the devices but the users.  Many people don’t have a cell phone so I’m not preaching to them.  I’m also not speaking out against the masses who show common courtesy when using their phones.  I’m talking about the select users that don’t seem to realize that there’s a code of ethics when it comes to your phone.  Simply put, don’t use it while driving unless you have a hands-free device and don’t ever use it at the movie theater.  These are non-negotiable.  I have spoken.

I don’t know what is so hard to understand about these two rules of thumb.  Unfortunately, it’s become such a big issue that many places have put a ban on talking/texting while driving.  Here in Ontario, we instituted a law about two years ago but that still doesn’t stop some people from doing what the law says they cannot.  There have also been some serious traffic accidents caused by people who still think they can handle texting or talking on their phones while trying to handle a big hunk of steel on wheels that requires your full attention.  I won’t say more about the use of the cell phone in the car.  JUST DON’T DO IT!

I want to relay an ongoing experience I’ve had with going to the movies and having someone in front of me texting while I’m trying to enjoy the film.  I wouldn’t say anything if it only happened once but it continues to happen and recently I decided to escalate the issue.

The first time I had to speak to someone about their texting was during a viewing of Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of The Crystal Skull.  Don’t get me started on the film.  Who doesn’t love Indiana Jones?  It’s not anyone’s fault that Harrison Ford couldn’t stop aging.  Anyway, this young woman in front of me continued to text throughout the first twenty minutes of the film.  When it’s a dark theater and this rectangle of light keeps shining at you, that takes away from the movie going experience.  After the twenty minutes, I politely asked her to stop texting as I found it distracting.  She obliged.  I’m not sure why she was texting all that time.  Maybe she was giving a critical review to a sick friend?  Maybe she was giving a sick review to a critical friend.  It doesn’t matter, it’s done.

But wait, it happened again!  During a viewing of Avatar, a boy, about twelve continued to text throughout the first hour of the film.  I tried to hold back because my children didn’t like the fact I had to speak to someone about texting the last time even though I had been polite about it.  So, I held off for an hour.  Finally, I leaned over and told him his screen was really annoying and that I wanted him to put his phone away.  He gave me a nasty look but he too obliged.  Oh, he didn’t stop texting but he hid it in his coat so I couldn’t see what he was doing but I could see but was not annoyed by the glowing little screen.  Later my daughter told me that a female friend of the boy was speaking to another female friend in line for the women’s washroom about this incident.  She asked her friend who the “asshole” was that had asked her male friend to turn off his cell phone.  I’m a asshole for asking someone to do the right thing.

I need to say at this point, that both of these incidents occurred at the Galaxy Cinema, a theater in the Cineplex Oden chain, in Belleville.  That will become important later on.  Now on to the third time. 

My experiences with people who text during movies has become legendary in my house.  The main reason is that I recount the incidents to whoever will listen and complain loudly after the incidents occur.  It’s like I’m a target for these things.  Is it any wonder my children even want to go to the movies with me?  Well, they did this summer and it happened again during a viewing of Captain America.  Seated in front of us were 4 young men who were texting back and forth prior to the movie beginning.  My oldest daughter Emily must have recognized the bullseye on me because she said “this is going to be a problem for you, isn’t it?”  I told her it wouldn’t be if the young men remembered to shut off their phones when the movie started.  They didn’t.  Thirty minutes go by and I’m fuming.  Why me?  I lean over and tell them that their phones are really distracting and I would like them to put them away.  Not one bad word.  Not one nasty comment.  They put them away and I enjoyed Captain America.  But that didn’t stop me from being angry.

This was now the third time this had happened to me at the Galaxy Cinema and not once did I see an employee walk through and check for people using their cell phones.  There were no signs posted asking people to refrain nor were there any advertisements before the movie asking people to shut off their cell phones.  In my mind, Galaxy Cinema and Cineplex Odeon were just as guilty as those young men.  There was no form of message being given to these people that texting during the movie is not okay.  So, I decided to take Cineplex Odeon to task.

On the Cineplex Odeon website there is a spot to contact Guest Services regarding any complaints.  On July 30^th, this is what I posted:

 

Last evening I watched Captain America at the Galaxy Cinema in Belleville, Ontario. It doesn’t really matter what the movie was but my complaint is that this is the third time at this theater that I have been inconvenienced by someone texting during the movie. On all 3 occasions this continued non-stop for at least 30 minutes before I had to say something to the individual. On one of these occasions, I was called an “asshole” in front of my children for politely asking someone to put away their cell phone. At that time, the individual had kept up the texting non-stop for an hour before I said anything. The glare of these little bright screens are very annoying when you’ve paid to watch a movie on the big screen.

I know this behaviour is the fault of the individual not showing common courtesy but I believe Cineplex must do more to address this problem. No where are there signs reminding patrons to shut off their cell phones nor was there any advertisement in the pre-show or the numerous commercials and trailers before the movie. What would it cost to film a PSA to remind patrons about texting during the movie? Also, why can’t you have an employee do a walk through during the first 30 minutes to check on this?

The situation is becoming more and more irritating and I think Cineplex has to come up with some concrete solutions to address this problem. Three times is three times too many. As a paying patron, I think my right to enjoy myself in the theater is no longer being protected.

 

On August 2^nd, I received the following response from Guest Services:

 

Thank you for contacting Cineplex Entertainment regarding your visit to the Galaxy Belleville. We apologise for the experience you had during your visit. We would like to investigate the issue and forward your concern to the appropriate personnel for their review and to be addressed. Please forward us the following information at your earliest convenience.

 

By August 9^th, I had not received any response.  However, on August 9^th I was roused again to contact Guest Services for their lack of response and because another incident of texting occurred again that evening.

August 9^th, being a Tuesday evening, was a discount night at the Galaxy Cinema.  Movies were offered for half-fare and it was always a busy night.  Sitting at home, Emily and my wife tried to convince me to go with them to the Galaxy Cinema to see “Rise of The Planet of the Apes.”  I desperately wanted to see this film because I have always been a fan of The Planet of the Apes films and this looked to be better than the 2001 remake.  My only reservation was that it would be busy and that in all likelihood someone would text in front of me during the movie.  Jeanette and Emily tried to convince me that the possibility was remote and so I acquiesced.  I should have gone with my gut instinct.

The Galaxy Cinema was packed and when we arrived, we had the choice to sit in either the second row or the first row.  I felt that if I sat in the second row, I wouldn’t have to lean back so far to see the movie.  Emily also assured me that because we were in the second row it was a good chance no one would sit in front of us and start texting because they’d have to lean back even further to see the movie and wouldn’t be able to see their cell phone screen.  She was wrong.  Two young men sat right in front of me and when the movie started, they held their cell phones up high so they could see them while they continued texting.  I lost it.  I didn’t even give the customary lean over.  I just barked “SHUT OFF YOUR CELL PHONES, NOW!”  I don’t know who was more surprised, my wife or the two young men.  It got their attention and they moved quickly to put away their phones.  My wife thought I could have been more polite but I was beyond being polite.

After the movie, I went to try and find a staff member so I could complain about the experience.  I found a young woman who didn’t seem overly concerned about the issue.  She told me it happened all the time and they couldn’t really do anything about it because the violators would just put their cell phones away if a staff member did a walk through.  She missed the point.  That’s exactly what I wanted.  I wanted a staff member to do a walk through so the violators would put away their cell phones!  When pressed for the name of her Manager, she couldn’t give me his name.  She thought his first name was Derek but she wasn’t sure.

Here is the second email I sent to Cineplex Odeon Guest Services that night:

I want to let you know that to date, I have had no other response to this issue other than your initial email.  However, I went to the movies this evening at the Galaxy Cinema in Belleville to see Rise of The Planet of The Apes at 7 pm and two young men were texting in front of me and would not stop until I spoke to them sternly.  After the movie, I spoke to the young woman outside the theater who had been checking tickets and informed her about this and asked for the name of the Manager.  She said she did not know his full name and only knew him as Derek.  I explained about the texting issue that just happened and she said there wasn’t really anything they could do about it because if they walked through the perpetrators would just “duck down” if they saw Cinema staff.  I stated that I would be filing a complaint because there were no signs nor advertising asking people to put away their cell phones and this was affecting my movie going experience.  She did sympathize with me but it’s clear that no one cares enough to do anything about it.

This is ridiculous and this is the 4th time this has occurred at this particular theater.   I request that you address this issue immediately and that someone respond to my complaints.  There are other smaller theaters around us and this has never happened at these theaters.  I’m at the point where Cineplex will lose my business.

 

I have never received an email response from Guest Services regarding the incident during “Rise of the Planet of the Apes”.  A week later, however, I received a letter in the mail from the Assistant Manager of the Galaxy Cinema in Belleville.  Here’s what she had to say:

Thank you for your e-mail on August 4^th, regarding your visit to Galaxy Cinemas Belleville for the screening of Captain America on July 30^th, 2011.  We are very sorry to hear of your experience.

Please be assured that Cineplex Entertainment is committed to providing a viewing environment free of distraction for all of our Guests so they may fully enjoy the film.  The Theatre does in fact have ads placed before the feature on both the pre-show and during the ads in advance of the film advising all Guests to turn cell phones and pagers to silent mode and to refrain from talking or texting during the performance.  As well, theatre staff should be regularly inspecting the auditorium throughout each performance to ensure there are no problems with the film or Guest behaviour.  It is always helpful when a Guest is able to assist our staff by directing them towards those Guests who are creating a disturbance.  Cell phone activity has proven a very difficult problem as most of the Guests who choose to use cell phones despite the ads are aware that this is an undesirable behaviour and will hid the fact they are doing it when they see our ushers performing their checks.  Should a Guest issue a concern about another Guest’s behaviour, it is standard procedure to post a staff member in the auditorium to monitor the situation.  If the behaviour continues Theatre staff may request that the Guest desist and should the request be ignored they may ask that the Guest leave the Theatre, providing a full refund.

We regret to hear that the staff did not notice this occurrence during the film and that none of our Guests notified them of the disturbance during that evening.  Please be advised that we have reviewed this situation with the theatre team to ensure that theatre checks are being consistently done.  We would like to encourage you to contact any member of the staff if you ever have a concern about your theatre visit so that they may assist you in a prompt and courteous manner.

We would like to apologize for the loss of service and inconvenience that you have experienced.  Please find enclosed within a Special Event Pass, entitling the holder to admission to any of our theatres for a film of choice.  We truly hope your next experience with Cineplex is a more enjoyable one.

 

I have been back to the Galaxy Cinema since the last incident but have yet to use my pass.  I’m afraid that the pass will identify me right away as the person who complained to Corporate.  I can tell you that I take offence to many of the things mentioned in the letter from the Assistant Manager.  I have looked for these pre-show ads and have had others watch for them and we haven’t seen them.  We have also not seen staff members step up their vigilance in that time by walking through the theatre during the movie.  The Assistant Manager can apologize all she wants and supply passes but  if the punishment for violators is to “ask that the Guest leave the Theatre, providing a full refund” then what is the consequence?  Do what you want and you still get your money back?!  Where’s my refund from the times I was inconvenienced?  I think I’m still owed three more passes.  And by the way, in case you didn’t notice, I did not hear from The Manager and don’t know his name.  Derek, if you’re reading this, come out of hiding and do your own damn inspections.  At least then someone would be doing something.

So what is the answer?  Banning cell phones in the theatres is not working.  How about putting in jamming technology so they can’t get a signal?  No, they’d just keep pulling out their cell phones more often to check to see if they had a signal and that would be just as annoying.  How about not issuing refunds?  How about banning the culprit from the theatre once they’re caught and using facial recognition technology to keep them from returning.  Don’t they do that in Casinos?  Here’s a thought…dedicate the back row as texting only seats.  That way you can’t text in front of someone…namely me.

I’ll leave you with a Public Service Announcement that I came across.  It stars the actor, who is now a dentist, who played the Father in “Troll 2” which has the distinction of being the worst movie ever.  I like his message.  It’s loud and clear.  But not as loud as I will be the next time some %@@&^!* sits in front of me at the movies and tries to text. 

 

It has been more than three weeks since I last posted a blahg.  What has happened?  Life has happened.  Canadian Thanksgiving was in there.  I had to take my daughter back to school in Toronto.  My son had a medical appointment in Peterborough.  I was away in Niagara Falls for my niece’s wedding.  Time was very busy and when I sat down to write a blahg, I found I had many other things needed doing.

So all of these raised a few questions for me about what I’m doing and why I’m so busy.  There was one question though that I thought needed answering above all others.  That question is the subject of this blahg.

HAVE YOU SEEN ME?

I don’t mean the guy to the right with the white hair.  That guy’s been around for a long time and he seems to be trying to fill in for me.  Oh, it’s a nice picture and all but, well, it’s not me.  He looks like me around the eyes and the eyebrows are the right colour but he’s certainly not me. 

The fellow I’m looking for is a lot younger looking and has dark hair.  Look at the picture to the left.  That’s the guy I’m looking for.  Where am I? 

This isn’t one of those Where’s Waldo questions.  It’s not like you can look at a crowd of people and spot me right away.  I’ve gone missing.

That’s me in younger days in my last year of High School.  Now, there was a guy’s guy.  Look at those sideburns!  That white headed guy doesn’t have sideburns.  How can you be me without sideburns?

I remember me.  I was so sure of everything and fresh with potential and waiting for the world to discover me.  Maybe that’s what happened.  Maybe I went out into the world and was discovered.  Now I just want to be rediscovered.  Where am I?

Look at this other picture a few years later.  There’s that unmistakeable dark hair and a faint glimpse at those sideburns.  That guy never worried about anything.  He never lay awake wondering where his children are or how a bill would get paid or how a blahg was going to get written.  Graduating from University, he was ready for anything.  What happened to him?

Let’s move a few years on.  I look at this picture and I begin to see me fading. 

I see the sideburns beginning to shrink.  Those sideburns used to be below the ear.  Now look at them, they don’t even reach the bottom of the lobe!  Is the woman to blame?  That’s my future wife, Jeanette.  Did she make me disappear? Look at my arm, I’m wearing a watch for crying out loud!  So it starts there.  I begin to mark the passage of time.  I have appointments and commitments and other things to keep track of.  But can you blame the female?  He looks pretty willing to me.

So we start a life together.  Maybe it’s that word ‘together’.  Where’s the individual?  Where’s that guy who could go where he wanted and when he wanted and never looked at watches and clocks?  It’s not just the sideburns shrinking but that guy’s ability to be him without having to worry about anyone else.

When did I start worrying about others?  It couldn’t just be Jeanette’s fault.  Here’s me, married.  Where’s the sideburns?  Is that white creeping into the hair or is it the sunlight?  It is an outdoor picture, after all.  I can’t even see this guy anymore.

So I got married, and I got a job.  Oh, I had jobs before I got married.  I worked in a restaurant and at a gas station.  I worked whatever hours I wanted.  But you can’t support a family on that.  So I got a real job. 

Look at my identification card.  This was taken barely a year after I was married.  Now, I’m a Child Care Worker.  I didn’t need a certificate or diploma proving I was one.  The advertisement said Bachelor of Arts or equivalent.  Hey, I had that.  No sideburns, striped shirt, but I look happy enough.  I’m making more money than I made as a gas jockey.  I still have bangs. 

I work in a group-home for a couple of years with “emotionally disturbed adolescents” (that’s what the advertisement said) and I have professional friends and I’m well liked.  After a couple of years, I think I’m spinning my wheels with these youth because more of them keep coming.  I begin to get unhappy because I think we’re not addressing the underlying issue why there are so many troubled teens.  The smile on the identification card fades like the sideburns.  I stay with the same organization but I move to their school program and now I’m called a Teacher Therapist.  I always wanted to be a Teacher.  Jeanette’s a Teacher.  (It’s not a competition.)  I need a day job now because we’re thinking about children of our own.  I can’t work evenings and weekends all the time.  I can’t do sleepovers at the home.  I have more responsibilities.  I’m disappearing further into this married man persona. 

Then, Emily is born.  Jeanette and I have been married for three years.  Now it’s no longer me.  It’s no longer me or her or us.  It’s us plus ad-infinitum.  And there’s more white hair! 

I keep on teaching and we move to a bigger apartment.  My professional friends from the home start to have babies and then there’s play dates.  What happened to my play dates?  I used to hang out with the guys.  Well, I went out once with them.  But you get the point!  I’m co-joined.  I’m still wearing a watch but now I’m carrying around baby pictures. 

Emily gets bigger and that white haired guy starts to show up more.  I’ve completely forgotten about the sideburns.  They’re a distant memory…like the dark hair. 

Five years with one company is enough.  We’re living north of Toronto and I’ve been commuting for three years into the City.  All of our real friends are two hours to the east, in Belleville.  Goodbye to the city me.  I can’t be that guy anymore.  I’ve got to move and move on. 

We move back to Belleville and are reunited with friends and family.  We’re happier.  I’m not wearing ties but I begin to change on the inside.  I get a job managing a homeless shelter.  I begin to be aware of social issues.  I’m finally seeing those systemic issues that were producing all of those damaged kids.  Other people’s problems are bigger than mine and I care more about the big wide world.  I can’t be selfish or petty.  Who I am is not important compared to those around me.  I’ve got to change the world. 

The story goes on from there.  I change jobs a couple more times but it’s always on to something that wants me too look away from myself.  I’m an anti-poverty activist.  I work with mentally challenged adults.  My son is born and now I’m just a quarter.

Cutbacks start to occur where I work and I’m let go.  It doesn’t matter how much you care about the other guy when there’s not enough money in the company to keep you.  So now I’m unemployed.  I’m needed but they can’t afford to keep me.  I look for another opportunity.  Someone must need me somewhere.  They do or he does.  Noah needs me.  So I become a stay at home dad. 

The intention was to stay at home for a year.  This would help Jeanette out as she was only supply-teaching now after having the baby.  She started to pick up more long term contracts while I was at home.  Emily needed me too.  She would be starting school in a year so I could spend more time with her and help her get ready.  No more time for me.  We move from renting an apartment to renting a house.  We live in the country.  We have two cats. 

A year goes by.  Emily goes off to school every other day.  It’s just Noah and me.  He has naps and I try to write.  Bryan, Steve and I start a radio sketch comedy show called “Dead From The Neck Up”.  (click on image for larger picture)  We get written up.  Once in a local newspaper.  Once by the Station Manager who suspends us for a week for making fun of the Mayor’s hair.  Who knew she was on the board of the radio station?  I can only get to the studio when Jeanette’s home.  Sometime she’s not and I have to reschedule…a lot.  It’s a brilliant show but nobody’s listening.  We’re off the air.  I write a book, “False Ducks”, based somewhat on our radio show career.  Nobody wants to publish it.  Two years have gone by.  Three years have gone by. 

I start to volunteer on a Board for a Social Planning Council.  I’m still trying to keep tuned to all of the issues that will help me change the world if I can find a babysitter.  Nobody wants to be the Board President so I volunteer.  I get to go to meetings out of town sometimes.  More professional colleagues.  A fourth year has gone by and I’m still at home.  Volunteering doesn’t pay the bills.  I’m a torn person.  I’m never alone.  Children need me.  My wife needs me.  I need me but can’t find the time to find myself.  By now, I begin to see I’m lost. 

A friend gets me a job with construction.  I hate it.  Long hours and I’m not at home much.  Jeanette is off for the summer but I hardly get to see her.  Fourteen hour days but I’m making some money.  I’m far from the world issues I need to address.  It lasts for two months.  Unemployed again.  Jeanette is pregnant again.  When did I find the time? 

I’m still Board President but I help to write a proposal that will create funding for two positions to address quality of life issues.  I quit the Board, after 4 years, and become an employee of the agency.  Abbie is born.  I’m now one fifth. 

I don’t know when it started to happen but Jeanette and I started to leave the picture.  I mean it.  Where are the pictures of Jeanette and I?  Are we always behind the camera?  Am I in the picture but crowded out of the frame?  I’m no longer front and center.  I’m not even side by side. 

I’m working next as a Community Developer and setting my own schedule so I can put Emily & Noah on the school bus and be there when they get home after school.  Abbie goes to my mother during the day.  I have a vasectomy.  I know, too much information but Jeanette convinces me it’s the right thing to do.  Something else to miss.  The job is good and I create reports and programs to deal with hunger and poverty and housing.  Professionally, this is as good as it gets.  Three more years go by. 

Funding runs out and I’m unemployed again…but not for long.  Other professionals want me for short term contracts so I work organizing an environmental conference on waste and waste reduction.  Then it’s on to another homelessness project and another stellar report that goes nowhere.  Funding dries up again and I’m unemployed once more.  I count it all up and I’ve had ten jobs in 17 years.  Now it all stops.  I’m at home with Abbie and she’s getting ready to go off to school.  Jeanette is working full-time.  It’s more than I can say.  We buy a house. 

Somewhere in there I worry about not writing.  It’s been more than ten years since I wrote “False Ducks”.  I have written many short stories and poems.  Maybe it’s time to collect them all.  So I write a novella, “Proof For Believing” and collect every Christmas item I’ve ever written, scrape together some money, and self publish.  The cover is beautiful and Emily, who’s 16 by this time, designs the cover.  It’s a labour of love.  It sells 20 copies.  There’s more in boxes in my closet.  I put so much into it that more goes missing from me. 

I go back to work.  It’s been two years since my last job and people keep promising me contracts but the funding falls through.  I go to work in a Call Center troubleshooting Internet connectivity for Time-Warner Road Runner.  I’ve always been good at computers and I need the money.  I excel and become one of the top employees.  I’m out of the non-profit sector.  I do volunteer work as a Board Member for a day care agency.  I spend five years as Board President.  I push for advocacy related issues.  We win some battles but then I lose the fight.  Some Board members want to go in a different direction, the wrong direction, and I’m pushed out.  The agency struggles but that’s not my problem anymore.  I tried.  I’m sick of trying.  You have to pick the battles you think you can win.  I can’t win. 

I have to take a leave of absence from work because I hurt my shoulder.  A year later and two surgeries pass and I go back to work.  Road Runner has gone to the Philippines and I go over to Hewlett Packard.  More training and starting from the bottom.  Six months pass and I’m now the number one agent on the contract.  I hate it.  It’s not about the customer.  It’s about making money for the company.  Customer service is suffering and I’m the only one who seems to care.  I quit.  Twelve jobs and 22 years later.  Bits and pieces of me given away at every place I’ve ever worked.  The hair is white…I tell people it’s transparent. 

Two years on and now I’m writing this Blahg.  I had a short contract working the Census this past summer.  Lucky 13.  Still unemployed.  What’s next?  The children are all grown.  Emily’s in University, Noah’s off next year.  More pieces of who I am are leaving.  What’s left of me?

Sometimes I get a glimpse of where’ I’ve gone.  Sometimes I’m behind those eyes looking at me in the mirror or in my children’s faces.  But it’s a fleeting glimpse and then he’s gone.  Where am I? 

So what’s the purpose of this particular blahg?  Why all the questions about who I am or where I am when the story is laid out there to read?  That’s it, to read…like a map.  This blahg is a road map for me.  It helps me to see what I’ve done and how to find all of the pieces to me.  I may not be in some of the pictures but if I look closely, I can see me.  This is the story of a life.  The road map of a road trip.  The only question I guess I really should be asking is what direction do I take next?  That’s the one that needs answering. 

Any suggestions?  Any answers?  Let me know.

(For more about “Dead From The Neck Up”, “False Ducks” and “Proof For Believing”, check out my website: www.falseducks.com

Today, October 9, 2011, marks the anniversary of the last time I saw Frank Sinatra in concert at Copps Coliseum in Hamilton, Ontario in 1993.  It would also be the last time that Sinatra came to Canada.  So, I’m only 18 years late writing about that concert and one week late writing about the 22^nd anniversary of Frank Sinatra & Liza Minelli at the SkyDome in Toronto on October 2, 1989.  Most of this blahg will be dedicated to the Skydome concert because, as usual, I have a personal story related to that concert.  Like any good story, this one needs a lead-in and I’ll have to back up a year or so to tell it.

It was late 1987 and Sinatra had not been back to Toronto since the CNE 1984 concert (see my last post).  That Labor Day weekend concert in ’84 had not gone well for Mr. S. and fans were still waiting for the encore.  I have posted some of the letters to the editor of the Toronto Star following the CNE concert.  I did not include these in my last post but thought I’d post them here to show the last sentiments regarding Sinatra’s previous trip here.  Click on the image to see a larger print of it.  The only other Canadian stop for Sinatra in the ensuing years had been April 3, 1986 at the Pacific Coliseum in Vancouver.

In December 1987, at Chasen’s restaurant in Los Angeles, Sinatra, Sammy Davis, and Dean Martin announced a 29 date tour, called Together Again.  This was exciting news for me, not just that the big three were touring together again, but because Vancouver was announced as one of the 29 stops.  Could Toronto be selected for a stop in a second round of dates?  I could only hope.  I was married in 1987 and by the time the Together Again tour was announced, I was living and working only 30 minutes north of Toronto.  I knew getting tickets and getting to the concert would be a cake walk compared to my ordeal in 1984.  Sadly, Dean Martin dropped out of the tour in the spring of 1988 and Sinatra & Sammy continued on alone for some of the 1988 dates.  There would be no Toronto concert and my hopes were dashed.  After all, there was 4300 kilometers (approximately 2700 miles) between Toronto and Vancouver and I couldn’t get that kind of time off work.

I would eventually make it to Vancouver in 1992 for a friend’s wedding.  It would be an 8 day drive in a 1988 Cavalier station-wagon with my wife and two year old daughter who broke out with chickenpox the day we left…but that’s another story.  Jump to the summer of 1989 and a full-page ad appears in the Toronto Star (see image at left).  Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis were touring together again but with Liza Minelli and billing themselves as The Ultimate Event. ..AND TORONTO WAS ANNOUNCED FOR OCTOBER 2nd!! 

(Don’t Forget To Click On Images To See Larger Version)

I’m going to divert a little from this story in a minute to a side story that played itself out during the time leading up to this concert but I’ll detail a little about the venue and the tickets.  The concert was to be held in the newly built SkyDome.  I didn’t know much about the SkyDome only that it was the new stadium that was the playing field of the Toronto Blue Jays baseball team.  Previously, they had played at the CNE grounds which had been where Sinatra had played when he was last in Toronto.  I knew that other artists had performed concerts at the SkyDome as well but I knew nothing about the acoustics nor the layout of seats.  I knew, however, that it was a closed stadium, except when they rolled back the roof of the SkyDome on sunny days.  This was significant to me because I had been soaked by rain at the CNE concert in 1984.  This also meant that I could take a chance on the top price tickets because I would stay dry.

Getting tickets to the SkyDome concert was a lot easier than it had been in 1984.  I was living closer to Toronto so I could have travelled to a ticket seller quite easily.  It was made even easier than that because the small print in the advertisement stated that tickets could be obtained over the telephone.  Top tickets were running for $75 and I really wanted these.  My wife was supportive of this but we had friends who weren’t as economically inclined as we were.  My best friend Bryan and his wife still lived in Belleville, two hours east of Toronto, and, factoring in travel to Toronto, could only afford $50 tickets.  I wasn’t going to let that prevent me from getting good seats.  So, I purchased four $75 tickets and told my friend that we had purchased $50 tickets.  My wife and I paid the difference and lied to our friends that we had been sent $75 tickets by mistake.  So Bryan, if you are reading this, and I know you are, the truth comes out at last.  And no, you don’t owe me the difference of $50.  I’ll just settle for a good steak lunch.

So we had good seats, in principle, and this is where I’ll divert to the side story. 

Back in 1989, I was a subscriber to The Sinatra Society of America and their newsletter.  In their May 1989 newsletter I spotted an ad for the ‘Together Again’ Tour Book, Tee-Shirt & Poster.  The advertisement said I could get all three of these collectors’ items for the cost of $25 plus postage.  All I had to do was send a money order to Gary Labriola at Premier Artists Agency in Florida (see advertisement at left).  What a deal!  I may have missed the Together Again Tour when it had played in Vancouver but I would at least have some great souvenirs to add to my collection.

I immediately sent a money order to the advertised address in the amount of $30 hoping that the additional $5 would cover the shipping cost.  I received nothing.  Many months went by and I heard nothing.  I wrote at least twice to Mr. Labriola at Premier Artists and received no reply.  I contacted my local post office and there was nothing they could do because I had not received any tracking information because I had received any correspondence at all.  By the end of 1988, I was sure I was out the $30 and would never receive the advertised items.

In January of 1989 I decided to contact The Sinatra Society of America to see if they knew of any problems associated with the deal.  I received a reply in early February stating that they knew of no problems but I could contact Mr. Labriola by telephone and the Sinatra Society provided me with his number.  I telephoned Premier Artists at least twice in the months following but each time Mr. Labriola was not available but I was assured that he would return my call.  Again I heard nothing.  In April I wrote one more letter outlining my frustration and provided my new address as I had moved to a new apartment a few blocks away.  Guess what I heard?  Nothing!  You’re a good guesser.

In the summer of 1989 I decided to try something else.  A year had passed and I was sure I would never hear directly from Mr. Labriola.  I contacted Star Probe which was a consumer advocate column running in the Toronto Star that helped readers with problems they couldn’t resolve on their own.  I provided them with copies of all correspondence, the original advertisement, my money order, and contact information for Premier Artists.  Star Probe, in turn, contacted Premier Artists.  In July I received an irate call from Mr. Labriola who did not appreciate the interference by Star Probe and he further claimed that he had no record of letters or phone calls from me regarding this issue.  He did say that he would fill my order if stock was available or issue a refund if I could prove that Premier Artists had cashed my money order.

So, back to Canada Post with my original money order receipt and I have them do a trace on it.  They provided me with a photocopy showing that the money order had indeed been cashed by Premier Artists.  I sent this photocopy by mail to Premier Artists and received a phone call in late August.  Originally they were not going to replace anything nor issue a refund as they said they had proof that the original order had been shipped to my previous address more than a year before that.  Of course, when pressed, they didn’t feel it necessary to provide me with the proof that the items had been mailed out.  All of my mail from my previous address was still being forwarded to my new apartment and I believed that it wasn’t a problem with my local postal system.  I was very insistent with Premier Artists and told them I would not let this issue drop and that if I needed to get Star Probe involved again I would and that I would also issue a statement to The Sinatra Society of America recommending that Sinatra fans should not deal with Premier Artists and Gray Labriola.  That seemed to hit a nerve because they agreed to resend my order.

If you think it ended happily there, you will be surprised by what happened next.  I was told that unfortunately the tee-shirt of the Together Again Tour was no longer available but they were willing to substitute an Ultimate Event Tour tee-shirt instead.  I readily agreed to this as I knew that it would suit me well at the SkyDome concert in October.  I was disappointed about the replacement but I did manage to acquire a Together Again Tour shirt a few years later through Ebay.  The package containing the Together Again Tour program, poster, and Ultimate Event tee-shirt arrived near the end of August.  Unfortunately Premier Artists struck out with me again.  The items were contained in a padded envelope that was at least 12 inches shorter than the poster in the package.  Premier Artists had torn a gap in the top of the envelope and left the poster sticking out.  This caused the top portion of the poster to be mangled in the mailing process.  Why they didn’t fold the poster or provide proper shipping material is beyond me.  At this point, I was glad to at least have anything after waiting more than a year.  I didn’t complain further but updated Star Probe with the results.  You can read the Star Probe article above and see the damaged poster at left.

Well, now I had tickets and a tee-shirt for The Ultimate Event.  That should have been the end of the ordeal.  It wasn’t, but at least it was the end of the side story and the problems with Premier Artists.  One oddity that occurred shortly after this was that I received, by mail, an autographed photo of Frank Sinatra in an envelope that was post-marked California.  There was no letter inside and I never found out who sent it.  In my imagination, I believe someone connected with Sinatra read the Star Probe article and sent me this consolation gift.  I say thank you to the kindness of strangers.

As many of you may know by now, Sammy became ill in 1989 and had to bow out of the Ultimate Event.  Toronto was one of the stops where Sammy would not be present.  This was even more disheartening to me than Dean dropping out of the Reunion Tour and the whole ordeal with Premier Artists combined.  Still, we had Frank and Liza and it had to be better than that rainy night at the CNE in 1984. 

I don’t remember what the weather was like the night of October 2, 1989 but it doesn’t matter because the storm was inside the Skydome.  When the four of us arrived, we discovered that our seats, although billed as top seats, were way up in the near nosebleed section.  I say “near nosebleed section” because there really was a nosebleed section so high up that if someone had dropped something at the beginning of the concert, it probably wouldn’t have landed until some time after Sinatra was safely on the plane ride home.  Suffice it to say, I could not see Frank and Liza with the naked eye.  Thank heavens for the Jumbotron Screen or I wouldn’t have seen anything at all.

Inside the SkyDome they had draped some huge fabric to make what they advertised as a ‘Skytent’.  I don’t know what the real purpose of this was because it sure had nothing to do with the acoustics.  The sound was dismal!  The only thing you could really hear well was the beeping of the french-fry machine at the McDonald’s in the SkyDome which was inconveniently near our seats.  For some reason, the $75 seats ranged from ground level up to where we were and did not come with a free side order of fries.  I had expected better.

As for the concert itself, Sinatra and Minelli performed brilliantly despite the acoustics and the insects swirling around Sinatra’s head.  When Liza came out for the closing medley she was armed with a can of bug spray and it got the biggest applause of the night.  It was all moot to me because Sinatra and Minelli looked like insects themselves at the bottom of a big bowl to any of us if we looked away from the Jumbotron.  It was a good lengthy concert and I’m not knocking the concert or the artists.  However, I had gotten soaked once more when Sinatra had come back to Toronto.  I was sure Sinatra was going to get hammered in the press again.  It wasn’t his fault though.  It was a Skytent experiment that had gone horribly wrong.  You can read the reviews for yourself.

On the way out, I heard many complaints from other patrons and some asking where they could go to get their money back.  I also received some compliments on my Ultimate Event tee-shirt that I had worn to the concert.  Someone asked me where I purchased it as he thought there were souvenir vendors in the SkyDome.  I explained it was a long story but the short version was you couldn’t get it there.  I still have the shirt but I’ve never worn it since.  It’s bagged and put away with the Together Again Tour tee-shirt I purchased online years later.

Sinatra would come back again to Toronto twice more and I’m happy to say that each time was better than the CNE and SkyDome concerts.  In November of 1991 he came to Maple Leaf Gardens with Steve Lawrence & Eydie Gorme for the Diamond Jubilee Tour.  It didn’t matter that he had seemed to age significantly in the two years since the SkyDome.  He sang the songs we wanted to hear and my wife and I had good seats.  We didn’t need a Jumbotron.  When he finally left the stage, he passed within a few yards of me.  I wish cameras had been allowed at that concert as I would have had a great shot.

The last time Sinatra came to Canada was in 1993.  Sinatra and Don Rickles performed at Copps Coliseum on October 9, 1993 in Hamilton, about an hour west of Toronto.  It was a charity event for the Kidney Foundation.  By this time, our little family had moved back to Belleville and Hamilton was a three hour drive away.  My wife was pregnant with our second child and wasn’t really up to that long drive.  So it became a boys’ night out as Bryan and I purchased tickets and drove the three hours to Hamilton.  It was a great night and a great concert.  Rickles was hilarious and Sinatra was dynamite.  I think it was the best performance I had seen out of the four concerts of his that I had attended.  Our seats were so good that Bryan kept thinking we were in the wrong seats and was sure we would be asked to move.  Given his experience at the Skydome and our poor seating there, I’m not surprised by his reaction.  Sinatra’s farewell performance in Canada was a good note to go out on.  If I had only known that less than two years later he would stop touring and that less than five years later he would be dead, I would have found a way to get to more of his concerts no matter where he played.

Mr. Sinatra, you are missed.

This last Sunday, October 2nd, 2011, marked the 22nd anniversary of Frank Sinatra & Liza Minelli at the Skydome in Toronto in 1989. I hope I don’t have to explain that Toronto is in Canada but I’ll put that out there and I will also mention that the Skydome is now called The Rogers Centre; same building, different name. Clear?

I wanted to speak about that Skydome concert in this post because I was there but after writing this post, I found it was a little long so part two “Do You Want Fries With That?” will be posted on Sunday, which coincidentally is the anniversary of the last time I saw Sinatra in Concert. I want to, however, speak about the first time I saw Sinatra in Concert and how my passion for Sinatra almost got me killed. But let’s go back a ways first.

I grew up on classic movies as a young man. That’s not to say that I’m not young now except I did mention in my first blahg that would be 50 next year but that doesn’t matter. So, I was young and I liked classic movies. My dad always hated this because we always had a colour television when I was growing up and he would always complain about shelling out good money on a colour set to see it wasted on me watching something in black and white. Oh, it was okay if it was a John Wayne movie…but I digress.

I’m not saying anything negative about my father because he was the one that got me started on Sinatra. I remember he came home one day from some auction with a box of records he had purchased for a dollar. I can’t remember all of what was in that box but I do remember there were some jazz records, a great Bing Crosby album where Bing paired up with Rosemary Clooney titled “Fancy Meeting You Here” (great LP and it deserves it’s own blahg…hmmmm), and one Frank Sinatra album. That Sinatra album, which started it all, was on the Columbia label and was aptly titled “Frankie”. I still have that record but it’s probably a little more worn than the rest of the Sinatra records in my vast collection. Hundreds of records and CDs later, I’m still collecting Sinatra. So it should come as no surprise that I wanted to see the man in concert.

Sinatra had played in Canada before in the 70s at some great venues like the Montreal Forum in Montreal and Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto. If I recall correctly though, I had acquired that box of records sometime after Sinatra’s last concert dates in Canada during 1976. Sinatra was in three cities in Canada in 1976, starting with Maple Leaf Gardens on May 1st, then the Pacific Coliseum in Vancouver on August 21st, and finally Montreal again on October 15th. I was only 13 at the time and I don’t think the desire to see Sinatra had hit me by then. The next opportunity to see Sinatra in Canada was September 11th, 1982 in Ottawa at the Central Canada Exhibition. He was performing with Rich Little in a benefit for the Ottawa Civic Hospital. I had read about it in our local paper and I really wanted to go. Unfortunately that was my first week of my first year of University at Trent University in Peterborough and I couldn’t afford to skip off to Ottawa. Now in hindsight, I guess I should have applied to an Ottawa university but then I wouldn’t have met my wife…and that’s another story altogether.

(Click any of the images to view a larger version)

The next chance I had to see Sinatra was September 2nd, 1984 at the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE) in Toronto. This was an opportunity I wasn’t going to miss out on. I wouldn’t be returning to University until a week after that and I had a job that summer, so I knew I could swing it. Little did I know that this was an adventure that would almost cost me my life.

The adventure began with the ticket. The problem with the ticket wasn’t the price but the vendor. I lived two hours away from Toronto in my hometown of Belleville and there was no way to get a ticket locally. This was before big ticket vendors like Ticketmaster opened stores or kiosks across Canada and at least a decade before the Internet. The Toronto Star newspaper, had printed a coupon that I could use to receive $5 off the admission to the concert but it had to be presented at the CNE Grandstand box office or at any Bass ticket outlet. Don’t ask me what Bass was as I didn’t know then and I don’t know now. All I knew at that time was that I had to get to Toronto to get the ticket before they sold out.

That summer of 1984, I was working the midnight shift at Farrar’s Texaco in Belleville. I sat in a kiosk and took people’s money because the station was self-serve only. It wasn’t hard but it meant that I slept all day after I got home at 8 in the morning. I didn’t have a car and I knew my bicycle wasn’t going to get me to Toronto. My father wasn’t about to drive me and lose a day’s pay himself. I checked out bus service and that was out of the question because I wouldn’t get back in time for work. So I looked into the train and found a schedule that would work for me but it was going to be tight.

Train service between Belleville and Toronto was not frequent but there was a train that got me into Toronto around 3:30pm and another train that would depart Toronto for home, at 4:30pm. That’s right, I had one hour to get my ticket and get back to the train station so I could get home and maybe get some more sleep before heading off to work that night. It was an insane plan to start because I had no idea where the CNE Grandstand box office but I at least knew that the Bass ticket outlet was somewhere in the Eaton’s Centre. Unfortunately it’s a big mall smack dab in downtown Toronto and I was taking a big chance and hoping that I could find the outlet, get the ticket, and get back to the train station in time. The next train didn’t leave until evening and I wasn’t taking a chance on missing it and being late for work.

The day I took the train was at least bright and sunny and on time. When I got to Toronto, I took a subway immediately to the Eaton’s Centre and searched the directory listing for the Bass ticket outlet. I noted the location and ran through the mall to where it should have been. That’s right, it wasn’t there. Instead, there was a note on an empty store window stating that the Bass ticket outlet was now located in Sam The Record Man, one block north of the Eaton’s Centre. So I was off and running again.

Someday I should write a blahg about Sam The Record Man as it once was a huge record store chain across Canada. Its flagship store in Toronto was impressive at three floors with everything from cassettes to records and some videos thrown in. Alas, the flagship store and the chain are gone now. The only Sam The Record Man left is in my hometown of Belleville and I’m glad to say that the current store owner is a big Sinatra fan. I still shop there and it still carries some vinyl. But back to the story.

I ran that block to Sam’s in record time and found that the Bass outlet was indeed there in a sub-basement. I presented my coupon and purchased one of the $30 seats at the discount of $25. I had wished I could have afforded the $75 seat but even with a coupon, it was out of the price range of this University student. Later, I would be glad I didn’t purchase a $75 ticket but given the money I had already spent on the train just to buy the ticket, I couldn’t justify the extra cost.

After purchasing the ticket, I ran back a block south to catch the subway but found that there was a delay on the subway line. I knew I couldn’t afford any delay, so I started running south toward the train station and trying to flag a taxi at the same time. After a couple of blocks, I managed to catch a taxi and made it to the train station with 10 minutes to spare. I think I slept all the way back to Belleville because I was exhausted…but happy.

Okay, so I was into this Sinatra concert already for the $25 ticket, $30 for the round trip train ride, $1 for the subway, and an additional $5 for cab fare. A few days after this, I realized I’d need to stay overnight in Toronto because there wouldn’t be a train back to Belleville after the concert was over. So I booked a room at the Ramada Hotel near Maple Leaf Gardens at the cost of $75. Already this was starting to cost me more than the top ticket price to the concert. I would also have to spring for another round trip ticket just to go to Toronto to see the concert. But I didn’t care because you don’t get to see Sinatra every day!

I managed to get a couple days off from work and took the train to Toronto on the day of the concert. This was really a big deal for me because I had never stayed in a hotel room by myself let alone in a big city like Toronto. The Ramada Hotel was about a block’s walk east from the Subway stop near Maple Leaf Gardens. I checked in sometime in the mid-afternoon and then went back downtown to Sam The Record Man to check out the deals. I don’t remember if I bought anything that day but it was only a few blocks south of where I was staying and I had to kill some time. This we call filler.

That evening, when I was preparing to leave for the concert, I checked with the front desk to find out how to get to the CNE Grandstand. The desk clerk wrote it out for me on a piece of paper because I would have to take a streetcar and change to another streetcar to get to the CNE grounds. The only thing he neglected to tell me was that the Streetcar was exact change only. In Belleville, the bus drivers still made change. The Streetcar driver wouldn’t even let me on without exact change. So I went back to the hotel and tried to acquire correct change but they couldn’t help me. The best they could suggest was to try a local variety store a block to the east of the hotel.

I started walking a block east but after having gone a block, I found no store. I couldn’t see one in the distance and I didn’t want to miss the start of the concert so I headed back west toward the hotel with the intention of walking a block west of the hotel to see if there was somewhere that I could get the correct change I needed. As I approached the street corner just before the hotel, an individual rounded the corner and almost collided with me. He was about my age but that’s where the resemblance stopped. He had on green fatigue clothing, was adorned with a couple of earrings in one ear, and sported a very large blue Mohawk haircut. I’m no prude and today that type of attire is pretty commonplace in Toronto but in 1984 it looked like trouble…and it was.

When I noticed that this individual was coming straight toward me, I stepped to the right, and he stepped to the right. I stepped to the left and he stepped to the left. I thought it was one of those awkward dances you perform with a stranger when you’re both trying to get out of each other’s way but keep going the same way each time you move. This was no dance. I tried to laugh it off and excuse myself but his motions were more intentional. “My name’s Nathan and I’m going to kill you.” Well, at least he got right to the point. He had an Australian accent but that was nothing to hold against him. I also wasn’t sure if he was serious because the street was full of pedestrians so I wasn’t sure how he was going to kill me so discretely.

I explained that I thought he had me confused with someone else but he only replied that his mates (his word, not mine) had told him that I wanted to fight him. I didn’t see any mates and I certainly didn’t want to wait around for them. It’s bad enough to take on one tough looking individual but I wasn’t up to the challenge of a gang. I explained again that I thought there was some confusion here as I didn’t know him and that I wasn’t from Toronto and probably didn’t know his friends. That didn’t concern him. He just repeated that his mates had said I wanted to fight and that he was going to kill me. At this point, correct change and Sinatra were far from my mind.

I’m a quick thinker at most times and I’m happy to say that this was one of those times. I told him that I wasn’t going to fight him right there in the open so he responded by encouraging me to get my friends and he would get his and they’d kill us all. I told him that my friends were back at the hotel and that if he came with me then we could get them and then we’d go with him to find his mates. I was surprised when he agreed to this because I was sure he knew that I was bluffing. All I wanted was to get off the street and get somewhere so I could get some help. None of the other people on the street were coming to my aid and I thought if I could get him back to the hotel then maybe someone would come to my rescue.

On the way back to the hotel, Nathan kept uttering his death threats. I was glad we were on a first name basis although I probably didn’t give my correct name. Let the coroner sort that one out, I thought. Back in the hotel lobby, I started to make motions as if looking for my friends. Meanwhile, Nathan got louder and louder with his impatience and his threats. People started to look at us strangely. This was good. I don’t know if anyone at the hotel called the police or any kind of security because I never saw them. My rescue came from a young woman who ran into the hotel and started grabbing at Nathan’s arm and trying to remove him from the hotel. Nathan explained that this was his girlfriend and she didn’t want him to be in any more trouble with the police because he was already headed to court in a couple of weeks. She managed to calm him down and eventually got him to retreat form the hotel. Before leaving though, he turned to me and said I was lucky this time that his girlfriend had arrived or he would have killed me. He also demanded I give him a dollar. I told him I didn’t have a dollar. He left. It’s a good thing he did leave because I would have bored him to death with the story of why I didn’t have a dollar and the whole thing about having to look for exact change. He got off lucky. So did I.

I don’t have to tell you I was shaking profusely but I managed to collect myself and get back to the task at hand of getting to that concert. There was a cab outside the hotel and I immediately jumped in and asked to be taken to the CNE. I didn’t care about the cost anymore. We made it in about 15 minutes with another 15 minutes left before the concert started. I had made it…alive.

The CNE is an annual exposition held every year in Toronto with the requisite amount of games and food stalls and an impressive midway of rides. I had never seen anything quite like it before and I would have taken more time to have been impressed if I wasn’t already pressed for time. I started to walk across the Exhibition grounds toward the Grandstand when it started to pour rain. It wasn’t just a light sprinkle, it poured. I was sure that the concert would be rained out. The Grandstand was an open bandshell affair with only a cement overhang over the upper seats. Luckily my seat was in the upper section. I was still wet by the time I got to my seat but at least the overhang provided some protection.

My seat was at the end of a row butted up against a cement wall for part of an exit. You could only access it from the far left and that meant excusing myself to everyone as I tried to make it along the row to my seat at the end. Of course, there was another entry if I was willing to shinny along the top of the cement wall and then drop into my seat. I didn’t care. Given the night I had been having, what was one more adventure?

I made my way along the top of the wall and before dropping into the vacant seat, I confirmed with the occupant next to it that it was indeed my seat number. Learning that it was my seat, I dropped down and sat relieved that there was nothing to prevent me now from seeing Sinatra. The young lady in the seat next to me, a beautiful blonde about my then age, was there with her parents and throughout the concert kept letting me borrow her binoculars to look closely at Sinatra. The gesture and the company helped greatly to relieve what had been a dismal experience just getting there.

When I arrived, Buddy Rich was already hammering away on his drums. Man, could that cat perform. All the time, it continued to pour rain and the sky lit up with lightning. It still nagged at me that the concert would be cancelled at any minute. Ten minutes later, Sinatra took the stage. Everything I had been through up to that point melted away. Nothing mattered, it was Sinatra. He was performing for me; oh yeah, and for those people in the open in the $75 seats getting soaked. I told you I would be glad I hadn’t sprung for a more costly ticket.

The concert was great despite what you can read in the reviews. Here was Sinatra, in the pouring rain, no protection, with lightning flashing all around, and him just singing as if this was all commonplace to him. I kept thinking “my god, he’s standing in a puddle, it’s pissing down rain, and he’s holding a metal stand, he’s going to get electrocuted.”  If there’s anything to the old adage that the show must go on, Sinatra lived by it.  It was as if nothing phased him.  He sang some of the songs from his new album, “L.A. Is My Lady” and thrilled the audience with some great standards. I think the greatest thrills were when he sang songs that mentioned the rain. When he sang “Come Rain or Come Shine” and “Pennies From Heaven” with the opening line, ‘Every time it rains, it rains, pennies from heaven’, more cheers went up from the crowd than when he belted out “New York, New York.” The only thing that would have made it perfect was if he had performed “September in the Rain” or “Stormy Weather.”

The whole concert only lasted 46 minutes. Sinatra left the stage and within a minute, you could see his limo, followed by a police car, driving off to drier parts unknown. Many people were upset about the shortness of the concert but not me. I had almost died and I had gotten soaked by rain but those were the only downsides. In the plus column, I had lived, I had made it to the concert, I had sat beside a beautiful girl, and I had seen and heard Sinatra live in concert. I had no complaints.

A few years later I met a man named Don Robinson who had also attended that CNE concert. Don was the host of a two hour Sunday evening Jazz program called “All That Jazz” on Kingston’s CFLY radio station. Don told me that he and three of his friends had been in those $75 seats and were soaked to the skin by the end of the concert. They had to remove their pants and sit on newspapers for the car ride back to Kingston. He said he was glad he wasn’t stopped by the police because he didn’t think they would have believed his story. I’ve lost track of Don over the years and would love to hear from him again if he’s still out there.

My night at the hotel after the concert and the trip home the next day by train were anti-climactic except for one thing.  After the concert I realized that I still did not have correct change.  I looked for another taxi but due to the rain, they were all quickly snatched up.  There was nothing I could do but walk.  In the pouring rain, in the dark of night, up strange streets to me, I legged it back in the direction toward my hotel.  I think it took me more than an hour.  Today, I wouldn’t walk strange streets in Toronto at night but after seeing Sinatra doing his bit for us at the risk of his own life, I didn’t think twice about putting mine into jeopardy again.  Luckily, the walk back to the hotel was uneventful.  As a footnote, I tried to find out who that girl was who had been seated next to me. I sent a letter to the editor of the Toronto Star and they published it. I mentioned my seat number and her seat number and that I would like to hear from her. I never heard from her. Instead, a month later, at school, I would meet the girl I would eventually marry. Not a bad consolation prize.

A number of years later, another Sinatra collector would send me an audio bootleg tape of the concert. It’s still one of my favorites. For a few years after that concert, I knew where the ticket stub was from that great night but over the ensuing years, it’s the only ticket stub I’ve lost. I still have the stubs from the other Sinatra concerts I attended but that one escapes me. I vaguely remember putting it somewhere safe like between the pages of a book. I have hundreds of books so narrowing it down to which book has never been a task I wanted to take on. Maybe if I start rereading all of those books, I’ll find it. Perhaps, I should pay one of my children to shake out all of those books to see what falls out. What’s another cost added to the history of that particular concert? It only cost me about $200 and almost my life. Is that too much to ask?

You’re probably saying to yourself: “Not another blog!”

That’s what I’d be saying to myself if it was just another blog. But it’s not. It’s a blahg!

Why blahg? Well, blah blah blah and add a “g”.

Recently, as recently as last Friday, September 23rd, I turned 49. Yikes 49! What have I got to show for almost a half century of living? Lots of records, scores of DVDs, some books, and a spread around the middle. By now I thought I would be successful and would have written that great novel that everyone pulls out once a year to re-read. Well, I have written one novel, “False Ducks”, which is yet to be published, and have self-published a collection of Christmas entertainments consisting of short stories, poems, perspectives, and a novella that shares the title of the published collection: “Proof For Believing.” I published 100 copies and probably have sold 20. Excerpts of both “False Ducks” and “Proof For Believing” came be found on the home site www.falseducks.com.

So, next year is the big 50 and I haven’t said half enough of what I have wanted to say to everyone that would care to listen. I’ve got some great stories, insights, and perspectives and I want to get some out there in this next year. That’s the main purpose of this blahg. I do, after all, have a University degree in English studies. Mostly, this degree qualifies me to speak it and sometimes write it. Many of my stories have a great deal of humor to them and I’ve been known to light up a room. I’ve also been known to empty a room but we won’t go there. Let me just say, stay tuned. If I’ve sent you an email or post promising I’ll discuss a certain topic then believe me I will get to it. Just be patient.

This blahg will contain a little bit of everything and usually there will be at least two topics. I’ve already told you about The False Ducks Blahg and below you will read about The Most Happy Sound. I also want to try and publish two blahgs a week. I’m aiming for Wednesday and Sunday. The Sunday blahg will contain my own brand of the Sunday Funnies and will include more humorous pieces. The look of this blahg will also change as I start to figure out how to use this darn software. Keep coming back is all I can say for now.

Say, did I ever tell you about my limited radio career as a sketch comedy artist…well, that’s for another time.

THE MOST HAPPY SOUND

One of the things that can be said about me, or at least one of the things that can be said about me when ladies are present, is that I love music. I’ve got a great collection of CDs, tapes, and records. Did he just say records? Yes I did. Thanks for asking.

In my record collection you will find anything from Sinatra to Billy Joel, from Hoagy Carmichael to Harry Chapin, from Blossom Dearie to Billy Holiday, from Jazz to Rock, and everything in between. Sometimes I’ll pick up a record at a second hand shop, yard sale, or flea market, which appeals to me but to others would be a great a mystery. “The Most Happy Sound” is one of those great mysteries to most people.

What is “The Most Happy Sound?” I contend that there are many happy sounds and if you ask different people you will get different answers. For me, the most happy sound is my own voice. I can’t sing but I think when I speak, I’ve got something people will want to hear. Thus this blahg!

Take a look at the front cover:

What does that conjure up for you? Yes, I know, what’s with the leering Soda-jerk behind the counter!?

This little gem of a record was found in a Good Will thrift shop bin for $1. I took one look at the cover and knew I had to buy it. I didn’t know anything about the group but the description on the back hinted of some type of jazz and I’m a sucker for good jazz. Watch for an upcoming blahg about Bob Scobey and Clancy Hayes and the Frisco Jazz Band.

Taking a look at the back not only gives us the song list but some more information about this mystery group of the Ja-Da Quartet lead by Margaret Ann.

The group consists of Margaret Ann Peterson, her brother Jim on tenor Banjo, Gordon Ellinger on drums, and Don Royer on piano. Margaret was the youngest at 19 and the oldest was Gordon at 23. They all hailed from Greeley, Colorado, did some shows in Florida and New York and eventually appeared on Arthur Godfrey’s Talent Scout program. They also appeared on the Pat Boone Chevy Showroom (April 16, 1959), the Perry Como TV Show (February 21, 1959 & March 9, 1960) and the Garry Moore Show (April 7, 1959). I have yet to find any video of them when they were still the Ja-Da Quartet but…ah I’m getting ahead of myself. To read more about the group, click on the picture of the back cover and a new window will pop up revealing the full details.

When I played the record for the first time, I was thrilled. It’s a fun album and it’s more Roaring 20s type music than jazz and it bounces along. I like Margaret Ann’s voice and two of my favorites on this album (although I contend they’re all great) are “CRAZY WORDS” & “MY CUTEY’S DUE AT TWO TO TWO TODAY”.

Here’s the revelation. As I listened closely I immediately recognized the voice of Margaret Ann! If you’re a fan of the Andy Griffith Show then you will recognize Margaret Ann playing the character of Charlene Darling, the golden voice of that mountain clan The Darlings. Only then, she was being billed as Maggie Peterson.

Here’s a clip of Maggie Peterson as Charlene Darling with The Dillards and Denver Pyle as they perform “Salty Dog“:

Or check out this older black and white version of “There Is A Time“:

So what happened to the Ja-Da Quartet? Well, there wasn’t another album but I have discovered that there were two 45 singles. The first, also on the Warner Bros label, like the LP, is #5064 with two songs: “DUDLEY, DIGBY DARLING” & “THE GIRL THAT JOHNNY WALKED HOME”

The single also received a couple reviews in the “Reviews of New Pop Records” in Billboard Magazine, May 18, 1959.

The second single is Warner Bros #5124. It contained SECRET (Everybody’s Talking)” & “BILL BAILEY, WON’T YOU PLEASE COME HOME”.

This time they were billed as “Margaret Ann & The Ja-Das” You will notice that I could only find an audio file of “Secret (Everybody’s Talking)” but I’ve purchased the 45 and when I receive it, I will post “Bill Bailey, Won’t You Please Come Home”

The singles reflect the group going off in a different direction and trying to sound like late 50s/early 60s vocal groups but they don’t have “The Most Happy Sound” that you find on the LP. I don’t know why the group eventually split up but Margaret Ann was a regular face in television guest spots in the 1960s billed as Maggie Peterson and showed up in other Andy Griffith Show spinoffs like “Gomer Pyle, USMC” and “Mayberry RFD” but not as the Charlene Darling character. She was the sweetheart of Don Knotts in the movie “The Love God”(1969) and was a semi-regular as ‘Susie’ on “The Bill Dana Show” in 1964. She would play Charlene Darling one last time in the TV Movie “Return to Mayberry” in 1986. She still shows up at Mayberry reunions and you can find videos on Youtube of her performing with “The Dillards” (her Mayberry siblings) in more recent days.

Oh, what could have been. I wish there had been another LP but I’ll be glad with what we have. It truly is a Most Happy Sound.

That’s it from my record library this week.

AS ALWAYS, ENJOY!

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UPDATE:  FEBRUARY 4th, 2012:

 I finally received the 45 of “Secret” backed with “Bill Bailey, Won’t You Please Come Home.”  It’s taken this long for me to actually record it to my computer and post it here.  Although “Secret”, which I reviewed here before, sounds like a late 50s/early 60s vocal group, the flip side is completely different.  “Bill Bailey, Won’t You Please Come Home” harkens back to The Most Happy Sound.  Here we have that roaring 20s jazz and swing coming through. 

My only fault with it is that I wanted it to be longer.  Like Oliver Twist, I want to ask: “Please sir, can I have some more?”