The False Ducks Blahg

Here it is folks, the last blahg of 2011.  It’s dull and gray here in my part of Canada and there’s a couple inches of snow.  Well, we didn’t get it for Christmas but at least we got it to close out 2011.  All of this, of course, has nothing to do with this blahg.  Like every good year end blahg, and I want this to be a good year end blahg, I’ll review some of the good and not so good things about this past year.

Let’s start with some of the bad.  I feel that if I start with the negative aspects of 2011 then it’ll highlight how important the positive things really are.

1)  My Father had a stroke.  Readers of my blahg will recall that a couple weeks before Christmas, my Father had a minor stroke.  He was driving at the time and wasn’t far from home.  He struck a parked car and continued on home, not realizing he had had an accident.  Not long after arriving home, the police arrived and his license was suspended.  At this point, my mother called me.  I have four brothers and one sister but three of my brothers live out of town and the other and my sister were working at the time.  When I arrived at my parents’ house, I began to question my dad about the accident and he still had no knowledge of what had happened and he had some paralysis in his right arm.  He balked about going to the hospital, mainly because he hadn’t been to the hospital in 30 years and wasn’t keen about going to his Doctor’s office either, but I managed to convince him to go.  They took him in right away and it was two hours before I was allowed to see him.  It was then that I was told he had had a minor stroke and had to stay in the hospital for 4 days.  It was one of the worst times of my life.  You think that you can handle just about anything but I was numb for a couple of days.   That was just me; imagine what was happening to my dad!

2)  This past summer, I had a bad ear infection in both of my ears and my hearing went down by 70%.  The hearing loss was bad enough but the pain was also unbearable.  Some antibiotics helped to clear up the infections and brought most of my hearing back but I knew that my hearing was not back to normal.  After a hearing test, and worrying I would need hearing aids or one of those old fashioned ear trumpets, I was told I had lost some of the higher frequency upper range.  I might get it back with time or I might become one of those people who asks what people just said or gets shouted at for having the television volume up too loud.

3)  Unemployed again.  I spent the majority of this year without a job.  During the summer months, I did have a contract working the Census with Statistics Canada.  It was great going door to door talking to people but I’ve never seen so many yappy dogs in all my life.  No wonder I’m a cat person.  Being without a paid job is the worst kind of feeling and you really don’t want to run into anyone you haven’t seen for a while because they’re bound to ask you what you’re doing these days and you have to be truthful and pretend that you’re okay with it or lie inventively and hope that they don’t work for the imaginary company you just made up.  Does anybody remember Vandelay Industries from Seinfeld?

4)  Movies, books, and music:  three great words but not a great year for any of them.  I’m not a big Top-40 fan so the summer blockbuster films were very disappointing and the FM radio hits were really misses to me.  Man, I miss Sinatra.  We did get a new Sinatra release, Best of The Best, combining Reprise and Capitol hits but really it was nothing new under the sun.  The extended version contained some photos and an extra CD of the Seattle 1957 live concert but this too has been previously released.  Where are the gems hidden in the vaults?   Where are the unreleased takes and unreleased concerts that were officially recorded?  We don’t need another Christmas ornament!  That reminds me, I didn’t get the 2011 Sinatra Christmas ornament because I usually wait until they are 75% off on Boxing Day but by then they were sold out.  Bummer.

5)  Not enough to complain about.  I’m really struggling to find things to complain about.  2011 wasn’t all that bad except for the first two items I mentioned and only being unemployed part of the year.  But I like to complain!  It should have been more of a year to complain about!  I’ll throw in some minor things: 

·        Our Federal election in Canada was disappointing because the same stupid people elected the same stupid people.  Unfortunately, our great hope, Jack Layton, head of the New Democratic Party, and the official opposition, lost his battle with cancer.  I don’t see anyone filling those shoes. 

 

·        Television:  DO WE REALLY NEED ANOTHER REALITY SHOW?  THE X FACTOR!?  The X Factor used to refer to that quality that great stars had/have but these new people don’t.  The only reality show I watch is the one at 11 o’clock called THE NEWS!  Bring back Stargate SG1!

 

·        DVDs:  More MOD (Manufacture on Demand) and less Pressed Disks.  My big disappointment was The Andy Hardy Collection Volume 1.  The first 400 copies of this MOD release were autographed by Mickey Rooney.  I tried to order it but the autographed copies were sold out.  Now I have to buy the regular version and stalk Mickey Rooney and hound him to autograph my copy.  I LOVE YOU MICKEY!!  We did finally get some more Buster Keaton MOD releases but these were lesser MGM titles and only for the completist.  The same goes for Sinatra.  They released “Ship Ahoy” & “Dirty Dingus Magee” but where’s “Johnny Concho” and “The Joker is Wild”?  I’d even settle for a DVD release of “Miracle of the Bells”.   We did get a pressed disk release of one of my favorite Christmas films, “The Gathering” but I have to complain because last year I purchased the MOD version!  Same film and I have to pay twice!  Also, the cancellation of “The Fugitive Complete Series: The Most-Wanted Edition” was very disappointing.  Let’s hope it finally comes out next year.   Come on 2012, let’s see the goods.

 

Speaking of the goods, here’s what was good in 2011:

1)  My Father had a stroke.  I know this was a bad thing but some good things came of it.  He stopped smoking after 60 years of smoking.  My dad is 74 so do the math and figure out when he started smoking.  He’s finally taking his health seriously.  It also made me realize what’s important in my life.  It’s too bad a serious health scare has to happen before you reflect on these things.

2)  The love of a good woman.  In 2012 I will celebrate 25 years of marriage with the same woman.  If you think saying that she’s the same woman means she’s the same woman I married in 1987 then you’d be wrong.  Every year she changes.  She gets stronger and stranger and matches me in both categories.  Jeanette has always been there and held me when I finally broke down a couple of days after my dad’s stroke.  I think she had expected it sooner.  She nagged me too about my own health and got me to go to the Doctor about my ear infections and my hearing and now I can hear her better when she’s talking to me.  Don’t tell her that though because selective hearing is a real diagnosis in husbands.

3)  Three great children.  I had thought about putting this in the bad column because I feel that I may be losing them as they get older.  Emily is away at school most of the year and I worry about her in Toronto and now she’s off to New York City for a few days with one of her friends.  Do you think I’ll worry any less?  What an intelligent and beautiful young woman.  My son and I fought more this fall and when I was going through health scares with my father, I couldn’t get closer to Noah because he was never here.  It didn’t stop me caring about him.  Next year, he wants to go off to College/University and I won’t have him here.  What’s that about missing most what you don’t have around anymore?  Abbie entered the “teen” category before Christmas by turning 13.  She’s struggling to be independent and still wanting to be a kid.  She still likes to play board games and go to children’s movies.  I like that too.  

4)  Thursdays with Bryan.  Sounds like a book title.  I know many of you are thinking of Tuesdays with Morrie but this is completely different.  My best friend Bryan only has Thursday and Sunday off from work every week.  Thursdays we generally have lunch and look for DVDs at our favorite haunts.  We try a different restaurant every week and usually complain about the poor selection of DVDs available in local stores.  If you don’t think that’s a good time, you’d be wrong.  Bryan lives with my parents and helps to keep a watchful eye on them.  When my dad was hospitalized, Bryan was one of the first people I called.  He’s my brother from another mother who lives with my mother.  Can you follow that logic?  The picture here is an older one of both of us taken at my sister’s wedding.  It’s one of my favorites.

5)  Employment.  I know, this showed up as unemployment in my ‘bad’ section but this was really one of my highlights.  I had a paying job!  I haven’t had paid employment in almost two years so when this came along, it was a nice change.  Jeanette makes a good living as a Teacher but I like to think I’m contributing financially.  I enjoyed talking to people when going door to door collecting the census or filling it out with people who had neglected to fill it out.  My supervisor was impressed with my efforts as well and kept sending me into new areas to collect missing census forms.  She even gave me a nice letter of recommendation.  I hope that letter will help me land something a little more permanent in 2012.

6)  Movies, books, and music…and DVDs.  There were some good movies that stood out for me this year despite the crop of failures.  Abbie and I both enjoyed “Arthur Christmas” and “Hugo”.  I highly recommend both.  They are not just for the young.  Good to see a new “Mission Impossible” film.  Here’s hoping we get a fifth in the franchise.  “Super 8” was the best of the summer films.  Noah and I both enjoyed that one.  Noah also recommended “50/50” to me after having seen it with his friends.  It’s a very emotional film and should get set some Oscar consideration but probably won’t.  I can’t say anything about books because anything I read was a few years old and you probably wouldn’t know about them.  I would however recommend “Child Star” by Shirley Temple and “The Moose That Roared” about Bullwinkle, Rocky and Jay Ward.  Both are non-fiction but were great reads.  The real highlight in music was seeing Tony Bennett back on the charts with his Duets 2 CD.  Keep singing Tony!  DVDs?  Let’s get serious.  The best releases for me were “Barney Miller-The Complete Series” and “The Lost Honeymooners-The Complete Series”.  Thank heavens for Shout Factory and MPI.  Again, I’ll express hope for a 2012 release of “The Fugitive Complete Series: The Most-Wanted Edition”. 

6)  I met John Astin.  This great actor from “The Addams Family” and “The Brothers O’Toole” was at Fan Expo in Toronto this past summer.  What a great actor and a warm human being.  At the same convention, I also met Nichelle Nichols (Uhura of Star Trek), Marina Sirtis (Deanna Troi of Star Trek Next Generation), and Ethan Phillips (Neelix of Star Trek Voyager).  Okay, I’m a Star Trek fan.  Don’t give me one of those cute nick-names.  At least Noah and I have that in common.

 

I could go on and on about other things that might have been noteworthy for me but then I’d never get this blahg completed in 2011.  The last positive that I can add is this blahg.  Maybe nobody’s reading this but at least it’s an outlet for me.  I’ll be turning fifty in 2012 and this blahg is at least something I can point to as an accomplishment.  If you are reading this, drop me a line at scott@falseducks.com and let me know.  It would be nice to know I’m not just doing this for myself.

My hopes for 2012:

·        I hope the Mayans don’t get it right and we see 2013.

·        I hope I can continue to write more blahgs.  I don’t think I’ll get 100 written but maybe 50 before I’m 50 would be good.

·        Health and Happiness.  I wish this for everyone and not just myself.

·        Friendship and Family.  I’ve got that strong and I hope it continues.

·        Employment.  Enough said.

·        “The Fugitive Complete Series: The Most-Wanted Edition”.  You knew that had to come up again.

 

I’ll close with something that Frank Sinatra used to say and it’s still as relevant.  After wishing everyone health and hugging and kissing, Sinatra would always close with “In the next year may we find peace in the world and peace among ourselves.”

You can’t ask for more than that.  All the best to everyone in 2012 and in the words of Jackie Gleason:  AND AWAY WE GO!

 

Well the yuletide is upon us and like Santa Claus, I’m trying to meet my deadline by completing this blahg the day before Christmas.  I’ve had this blahg in mind for a couple of weeks but finding time to write it has not been an easy task.  We all put so much into this time of year and stressing about what’s to be done that we forget the little things.  This blahg will hopefully prove to be a reflection for those of you who forget to find the joy that we all so desperately need.

I confess I wasn’t always a cat person.  When I was growing up, we always had dogs.  That must mean my parents were dog people.  Oh, I remember once we had an old barn cat, despite the fact we lived in the city, which my father had obtained to get rid of a rat that plagued our house.  The cat did finally kill the rat but it also gave birth to a litter of kittens and then my memory gets vague on this because the cat and kittens were sent packing.  The dog stayed.

When Jeanette and I were married we had hamsters.  They were fun but when we moved back to Belleville with our two year old daughter, Emily, we gave the hamsters away and upgraded to cats.  First we acquired Elmo and then two weeks later we adopted Tully.  Both were black and white and males.  They were very friendly and received their names from Sesame Street characters.  We lived in an apartment for two years with them until moving into our first rental house in the country.  They soon transformed from indoor cats to outdoor felines.  That of course came at a cost.  Tully got into something poisonous and eventually died.  Elmo was struck by a car.  Both were devastating times.

Sometime between the death of Tully and the death of Elmo, we adopted Panama.  She was a short haired grey and black striped tabby.  My children spotted her at a yard sale where she languished in a cage with her siblings with a sign denoting the free kittens.  By this time, our family had extended to include our son Noah and a third child, Abbie, on the way.  Panama’s unique name came from a favorite book that I enjoyed reading to the children, “The Trip to Panama” by Janosch.  In this book, a bear and a tiger set out to find Panama, the land of their dreams.  There’s a great line in the book “oh how lovely is Panama” so it influenced the naming of our new cat.  This cat we decided would definitely be an indoor cat.  We couldn’t break Elmo of his desire to be out of the house be we would ensure Panama would stay safely inside.

After we lost Elmo, we quickly adopted Carrot to fill the loss.  We were always a two cat family because we thought that a solitary cat would be too lonely without a playmate.  Carrot was a barn cat that came from a friend of ours.  Whenever we visited his farm, the children loved climbing on the hay bales and admiring the barn kittens that ran freely.  Carrot was a long haired cat named for her beautiful coat of orange fur.  She was my favorite from the start.  She took to me immediately and I couldn’t go anywhere in the house without her tagging behind or pouncing into my lap the moment I sat down.  She, too, we kept indoors.

Soon our house became too small because it was a two bedroom house and we had three children and two cats.  We moved to a five bedroom house complete with a barn but fortunately, at that time, no additional barn cats.  I thought we were complete.  Jump to a hay ride after church one fall when we end up at the farm where we had obtained carrot.  My wife spies a lovely calico type kitten and falls in love with her.  Before going on the hay ride, I had prepped the children that we were not in the market for another cat and not to ask about a new kitten.  I had forgotten to prep my wife.  So that’s how Patches came into our life.  Despite being my wife’s choice, Patches chose me.  She and Carrot vied for my attention constantly and Panama just watched and then went to whomever she pleased.

We only rented the house we were living in at the time and the owner didn’t mind the cats we had.  He was a cat fan too.  Eventually some cats adopted the barn on our property and cats and kittens came and went.  I won’t go into those right now.  They were not ours; they were free spirits.  Eventually the owner of the house decided to sell the house and property and because it was 800+ acres, we didn’t have the means to meet his asking price and he didn’t want to sever the house from the land.  So we moved again but only after purchasing our first home.  Five bedrooms, three children, and three cats and still going strong.

Shortly after moving into our new home, we acquired our fourth female cat.  Emily, by then 15, and I were volunteering with a youth group and one outing found us at an animal shelter scooping and cleaning cat litter boxes.  Emily spotted our new cat at this shelter.  She was a lovely long haired grey and white cat with the friendliest disposition.  I wanted to say no to adopting this cat until I heard her story.  The cat, named June by the volunteers at the shelter had been found abandoned in the countryside.  She was only one year old and had had kittens at some point.  When she was rescued, she was pregnant again but the kitten she carried was stillborn.  Fortunately, there were some kittens brought into the shelter without a mother so June nursed them.  I thought that any cat with that kind of history deserved a home.  So we became a four cat household…all females and all indoor felines.  Noah and I were the minority males.

I was quite content with our four cats but somewhere in the retelling of this adventure I have forgotten to mention our two dogs.  Our first, Daisy, was a puppy that we adopted while we were in our first rental home and still had Elmo and Tully.  That dog hated me.  She started to turn vicious and she always took it out on me.  She got loose one day when she was less than a year old and was struck and killed by a car.  We were all saddened by this but it did not lead us to go and adopt another dog.  On, the contrary, the next dog found us.

Probably a year after Daisy passed, I was shopping in Belleville, prior to Christmas, with my two young children when I spotted a young pig running under some parked cars in a supermarket parking lot.  I finally caught up to the animal and discovered it was not a pig but rather a young pup whose fur was so white and so short that his pink skin shone through and made him look like a piglet.  I inquired in a few stores about the dog but no one claimed him.  I was going to take him to the shelter but they were not open until later in the day so I had no choice but to take him home.  I called the shelter later to inform them of the dog in case anyone reported him missing and I posted a notice of a lost dog with the newspaper and the radio.  No one claimed him and he became a fixture in our house.  There were two pig movies around this time, “Babe” & “Gordy”, so we chose Gordy because his coloring had made me believe he was something other than a dog.

Gordy was with us for ten years.  He was very very friendly but he could not be trained.  He would run wild in the house or outside so we had to keep him leashed constantly.  Once, he broke his leash and took off down the road.  He was struck head on by a car but miraculously he walked away with no injuries.  He only spent one night at the vet for observation.  After this incident, however, he became very protective of us and whenever a stranger came near the house he would turn vicious.  Once, he tried to bite the seat of the pants of my best friend.  Even friends were not safe from him.

Gordy moved with us from house to house but when we finally purchased our new house there were neighbor children that he would constantly bark at.  One wandered in our yard to play with my son and underestimated the length of Gordy’s leash.  The boy received a few stitches from a nasty bite from Gordy.  We had to have Gordy put down to keep peace in the village.  We were back to four female cats again.

Panama was the oldest of our cats and she loved our youngest daughter Abbie.  Panama always slept in Abbie’s room and it made Abbie feel special because this cat chose to be with her.  This started when Abbie was in a crib and we had to keep Panama out of her room.  When Abbie eventually moved to a bed we then allowed Panama back in her room.  Carrot, Patches, and June usually just slept on the sofa or a comfortable chair.

Three years after we moved into our current home, we noticed a lump on Panama’s underbelly.  After checking with the vet, we were told it was cancerous and that any surgery would be dangerous to the cat.  We were all devastated.  We made the decision not to put Panama through the surgery but because she was still in good spirits, we decided to let her live out the rest of her life with us.  We found some naturopathic feline medicine over the internet and this seemed to help Panama.  It provided her with more energy and she seemed to flourish for a little while.  Our biggest concern, besides Panama’s health, was Abbie’s state of mind.  Abbie was ten and she had a lot of love invested in Panama and they were truly good for each other.

Now this narrative will take a unique turn.  A few days before Christmas that year, another cat came into our lives.  We had had a large dowsing of snow and while my wife was shoveling our driveway, a large orange and white cat came out of nowhere and began to meow at her.  He was very friendly but it looked like it had come across country.  His fur was wet and matted and he had a few burs along his back.  We took pity on the cat because it was so close to Christmas but on further inspection we discovered this was a male cat.  We couldn’t allow him in the house because only two of our female cats were spayed.  We put an old blanket in our garage and left some food out for him, hoping that he would eventually return to whence he came.  He didn’t.

It began to get very cold and was snowing again so we made the decision to bring the cat into the house but to segregate him from the females.  Our house is laid out so that when you come in through the back porch you go through the kitchen to get the rest of the house.  We had a bi-fold door that we had used in the past when Gordy slept in the kitchen during the winter.  This is a door that is hinged in the middle and folds up along a track.  We put a blanket down in the kitchen and the door kept the male cat from entering the rest of the house.  It worked well for two nights.

The third night was Christmas Eve.  The cat had slept well in the kitchen those first two nights and showed no interest in the rest of the house.  He went out during the day and female cats were allowed access to the kitchen while he was out.  That Christmas Eve my wife and I were up late wrapping presents.  I don’t think we got to bed until much after one in the morning.  Everything was still, not a creature was stirring…well not quite.  Shortly after going to bed, I heard a loud thump in the kitchen and had to get out of bed to see what caused the noise.  I discovered the bi-fold door was open and the male cat was trotting through the dining room.  I scooped him up, placed him the kitchen, closed the bi-fold door and went back to bed.  I wasn’t sure how he had gotten out but thought he was secure in the kitchen again.  Again the noise occurred and again I found the door open and the cat in the dining room.  I wasn’t going to take any other chances so I took him into our bedroom and closed our door.  He slept on our bed that night and went out in the morning.

As the next day was Christmas, we allowed the male cat to be in the kitchen in the afternoon with the door closed.  The children and I were playing with something in the dining room when we noticed a small orange paw poke its way under the bi-fold door.  The cat hooked his paw under the bottom of the door and pulled along the middle and the door popped open.  Mystery solved.  After that, we felt that if he was that resourceful, he was welcome to the run of the house during his stay.

We went through all the motions to try and find out if this cat belonged to anyone.  We put up posters and contacted the local shelter and media outlets but there were no claimants.  We also discovered, much to our delight, he was neutered.  We didn’t need to worry about the female cats.  He cleaned up rather nicely and has such beautiful long fur.  We named him Frank.  I had told the children not to name him because he probably wouldn’t be staying with us.  He was still sleeping in my bedroom so one day I just started calling him Frank when asking him to move off my side of the bed.  The name stuck and Frank became a permanent fixture.

The children immediately fell in love with Frank and Abbie put a great deal of time and love into him.  I think she was gradually moving some of her affections away from Panama so that when Panama’s time came it wouldn’t be so hard.  Three months later Panama did take a turn for the worse and we had to have her put down.  We were happy for the ten years we had had with her.  Abbie was very said but she bounced back because she had Frank.  Later that year, we lost Carrot too.  She developed a serious kidney infection and she died in my arms one night.  It was a tough time but we still had June and Patches and Frank.  Frank most of all, got us all through that tough time.  He was truly one of the best Christmas presents we had all received.

Today, we celebrate three years of having Frank with us.  The bi-fold door has long been removed as Frank is now King of the Castle.  Patches and June pretty much steer clear of Frank but they know that they too are loved.

I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.  May you all find your own Frank or something just as wonderful that brings you joy.

 

It’s been getting harder and harder to write a weekly blahg.  I have good intentions but things keep happening.  The big thing is that my father had a stroke last week.  It was a very mild one but it required him to be in the hospital for four days.  My dad doesn’t do hospital stays so this put a scare into him and hopefully his commitment to quit smoking (a 60 year addiction) will continue.  So far, so good.  For those who haven’t thought about doing this then make 2012 the year you quit; if not for yourselves, then for those around you.  I’ll tell you I’ve never felt so alone than those hours I waited at the hospital for someone to finally tell me that my father was going to be okay.

This week’s post is going to be a bit of a cheat but an enjoyable one nonetheless.  This story, based on all true events, comes from my Christmas collection “Proof For Believing” and is one of my favorites.  It talks about a relative of mine and given everything I’ve been through with my dad this past week, I thought it would be good to post here. 

 

 

“Bye For Now”

 

Archie was my father’s cousin and he was always old when I knew him.

What I remember most about Archie was that he would come and stay with us children when my parents were out of town and that he drank.

          Oh he didn’t always drink.  He gave up drinking once or twice but he always took it up again.  That’s what landed him in The Manor.  If he had continued to drink at the pace that he had set for himself, it would have killed him.  Instead, he perked up in The Manor and lived almost another ten years longer than anyone expected.

          I used to go and visit him a few times a year but mostly just before Christmas.  I would always try to convince him to come to my parents’ house for Christmas dinner and he’d always try to convince me there was some reason why he couldn’t leave The Manor.  He always had some mysterious ailment conveniently at Christmas or some special event was happening at The Manor.  It was funny, on other visits, not around Christmas, he spoke unfavorably of Manor events and told me he had always shied away from them.  But I never got him to take the ride with me to my parents’ house.  He was settled and that was that.

          In his later years he always had a mind that was as sharp as a tack.  He could always recall events from earlier in our lives and would always start a visit with “Do you remember…”

 

          “Do you remember Dan’s wife Gloria?” Archie began during one Christmastime visit. 

          Dan is one of my younger brothers and never really had a wife named Gloria. 

          What had happened was that when we were teenagers I caught Dan listening to the radio in his room.  This was around Christmas and the DJ was taking calls from callers who wanted to wish a Merry Christmas to friends and relatives.

          I was a little stinker or maybe a big stinker because I was and am one of Dan’s bigger brothers.  I thought it would be funny to phone and wish a very personal Christmas wish to Dan.  It was just one of those things that suddenly possessed me.  I phoned and said “I want to wish a Merry Christmas to my family and a special Christmas wish to my brother Dan and his wife Gloria.”

          From Dan’s room, I heard this bellow.  He had obviously recognized my voice.

          Dan wasn’t mad at all.  In fact, he thought it was funny and we both had a great laugh over it.

          The biggest laugh occurred a few days later when Archie popped in for a visit.  He immediately sought out Dan and asked him how Gloria was.  Archie was also an avid radio listener.

          Neither Dan nor Archie ever let me forget that one.

 

          “Do you remember Dan’s transporter?” Archie asked on another occasion.

          I had almost forgotten about that one.

          Dan may want to shoot me for repeating this story but it’s one of my favorite episodes involving Archie.

          Dan had always been a tinkerer.  I would have said inventor but he never really invented anything.  He’d tinker at something and manage to take something apart to create something else that never worked.

          It would be at this point that Dan would point out the helicopter that our brother Todd and I had made out of scrap lumber and onto which we had tied an old furnace motor.  We had planned to fly it to our grandmother’s house in another town.  It would have worked Dan!  Of course my arm would have been tired from turning that propeller all night.

          But that’s all beside the point!

          I don’t remember all of Dan’s devices but I do remember the transporter.  If you’ve ever seen a Star Trek episode then you have to know what a transporter is.  If you haven’t seen a Star Trek episode then my son Noah wants to know why because Star Trek is everything to him.  It used to be Popeye and next year it’ll be something else. 

          But that is beside the point.

          A transporter is a device that takes apart your molecules and transports them to a remote location and puts them all back together; hopefully in the right order.

          One time, Dan decided to invent one while our parents were away and Archie was staying at the house.  I don’t know what he had used to make the transporter but I’m sure the original components were fully functional before Dan began to tinker.

          Now Archie was always a good sport.  He never discouraged us from anything and there were many things he never reported back to our parents.  If my parents are reading this, I deny there are any unreported incidents.

          On this particular occasion Dan had built a transporter and was ready to test it.  The house we lived in at the time had a few bedrooms in the basement and one of them had a light switch up on the landing that shut off all power to the room until you flicked the switch.  That was my job.  I was the flicker.

          Dan had wired everything together and had plugged it in and I was just waiting for my signal to flick.

          Archie was also in on it.  We had explained to Archie what the purpose of the transporter was and that we might be whisked away to some far off location and, if Dan’s transporter worked, it was Archie’s role to inform our parents of our strange disappearance.

          Of course that wasn’t good enough for Archie.  He had to be right there when that device was turned on.  He wanted to see it in action.  He only begged us to excuse him for a few minutes before we began the experiment.

          On his return, Archie was wearing a shawl and life-jacket.  When asked what these were for, he replied that he just wanted to be prepared.  He said that if he ended up in the artic the shawl would protect him and if he ended up in the ocean he’d stay afloat.

          Neither Dan nor I wanted to point out to Archie that a shawl was hardly great protection against below zero temperatures or that floating in the ocean was one thing but sharks were another.

          But that too, is beside the point. 

          The transporter didn’t work.  When I flicked the switch, the whole works caught fire and some of the plastic components melted and left a stench in the house that took us two days to air out.  That was one of Archie’s well-kept secrets.  Again, if my parents are reading this, I deny everything.  Ask Dan.  It was his fault anyway.

 

          “Do you remember Bryan’s five coats?”

          I don’t believe this is a particularly funny story and I don’t know why Archie always seemed to bring this one up when asking me about Bryan. 

          I’ll pad out this story a little because there’s not much to it.  I’m going to tell a funny story that my son insists on telling every time Bryan visits; much to the continued embarrassment of my best friend, Bryan.

          One time Bryan came to visit me when I was a teenager.  He walked into the house and said “Oh, someone dropped their chocolate cookie on the rug.”  That wouldn’t be all that funny except I knew my mother had not done any baking that day.  When I checked out the cookie, it turned out it was a dropping from our dog that had been stepped upon and made flat.

          Noah loves that story.  Noah, please don’t tell that story again when Bryan’s around.  At least, don’t tell it more than five times in a given visit.

          Now, on to the story of the five coats.

          One day, during a brutally cold winter, I took Bryan to visit Archie at the apartment he was living in.  It was always hot in there as old people have a habit of jacking up the heat until it’s only bearable for them.

          Bryan didn’t have a decent coat so he wore five thinner coats to keep out the cold.  When he began to peel back his layers, Archie just kept laughing and laughing.

          That was one of Archie’s favorite stories.

          I told you it was not that funny.  But that story about Bryan and the chocolate cookie is a keeper!

 

          I want to tell another story about Archie that he never remembered because he was sloshed to the gills at the time.

          It might have happened at the same time that Bryan came to visit me at Archie’s place.  I don’t remember exactly but I recall that Bryan was there.

          This particular visit to Archie took place around Christmas because Archie had just received his Christmas basket that some group always gave out to lonely seniors so they could make themselves Christmas dinner.  It did wonders to address their hunger but did nothing to address their loneliness.

          Anyway, every year Archie would get this basket of food with a turkey or a ham and assorted vegetables and other goodies.  He couldn’t eat it all.  It was too much for him and he’d always call me to come and take away what he couldn’t use.  He never had much of a stomach…at least not for food anyway.

          On this one occasion Archie had a plastic bag full of potatoes that he wanted to give to me.  I don’t know why he always wanted to give these things to me.  Whenever I visited him there was always some other elderly person visiting him and who, like Archie, was always imbibing heavily.  Maybe the other person’s stomach was set against food, too.

          Archie and the two other seniors were well into their cups when he trotted out this plastic bag.  Oh, there were potatoes in there alright but there was also the content of someone’s stomach.  It took everything I had to keep from gagging.

          I just told Archie that the potatoes had gone rotten.  He didn’t act surprised.  He quickly offered me a head of broccoli in place of the potatoes.

          Bryan and I chucked the broccoli into a snow bank on the way home.

 

          In the years that Archie was in the Manor, I was the only member of my family that visited with him.  I had always tried to convince my parents and my siblings to drop in on him but it never happened.  I was as successful at getting them there as I had been at getting Archie out.

          I visited Archie a few times every year with the visits eventually dwindling to one in the summer and one at Christmas.  We laughed at the same stories each time and Archie passed on family history that had been deprived from me when I was growing up.  I suspect that these were stories that others would not have wanted anyone to repeat.  But that didn’t stop Archie.

          The last time I saw Archie was in the spring.  An aunt of mine had passed away and I went to relay the news to Archie.  He didn’t seem comforted that he had outlived her.  In fact, none of us had expected Archie to live as long as he did.  We were sure that drink would have taken him long before that.  As with the end of every visit, Archie concluded with “bye for now.”

          I had planned to visit Archie that Christmas and had settled on a date the following week as my schedule permitted.  Christmas wouldn’t really start for me until I had visited with him and offered up one more time to take him home for Christmas dinner and have him excuse his way out of it again.  It was a ritual I believe that both of us enjoyed.

          A few days before I was to visit with him, he took seriously ill and was admitted to hospital.  I tried to get away to see him at the hospital but they weren’t allowing visitors.  He died shortly thereafter.   

          A funeral was held for Archie on the very day on which I was to have visited him at The Manor.  My father and I were the only members of my family to attend.  It was a short service and only a handful of relatives attended.  He was cremated and buried next to his brother.  Archie had finally left The Manor

          On top of a podium, in the funeral parlor, next to Archie’s urn, was a picture of Archie in younger days.  He was old even in that picture.

          I wanted so much to take the photo with me as I have no pictures of Archie and I wanted something for remembrance.  But it occurred to me that I had plenty to remember Archie by and most of it was of our visits and what he remembered.  This was our final Christmas visit.  I looked at the picture and, choking on my words, whispered “Bye For Now.”

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?”