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Monthly Archives: November 2014

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 43: The Cherry Red Scarf

30 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Appian Bus Line, Boats, fashion, Grandmothers, Montreal, Toronto, Travel

Note: This is for the most part, is a true story about my Mother, Grandmother and myself. I originally wrote it in June 2010 as a child’s story. It comes from a true memory that has stayed with me since the early 1960’s. I wanted to write it down as best as I could remember before it was forgotten, as I was about four years old at the time. After all, memories tend to disappear with time. With the events over the past year, I was compelled to find it. This morning I am happy to say that I found this deep in my computer memories innards. I re-worked it a bit, and brought it out to it’s truer form. There is the odd spot where I had to infuse some author’s license to smooth over some jagged edges. Learned family members should be able to spot where I sprinkled in a small (or maybe not so small) dose of fiction. Otherwise, it’s pretty accurate. I hope you like it… Doris

~~~~~~~~~~~

Mother and I climbed the steps and entered the bus hand in hand. Our long wait at the Toronto Bus Terminal was over and our journey was about to begin.

Both of us were relieved to finally be away from the roar of the bus engines and the choking diesel fumes in the air. After making our way down the aisle, Mother signalled to me to take the left window seat of row nine. I could see that Mother was anxious and was hoping that I would find some amusement from looking at the passing countryside during their long six-hour journey from Toronto to Montreal.

Granted, it was a lot to ask for a four-year old little girl dressed in her finest outfit to sit quietly for so long. However, I was a good little girl, and Mother had every confidence that I would be on my best behaviour. This was, after all a very important journey for the both of us. We were on our way to meet my Grandmother’s boat in Montreal, as she was arriving after a weeklong voyage across the Atlantic Ocean.

Truly, this was a wondrous occasion because we had not seen Grandmother for what seemed a very long time.

And oh, how I loved my Grandmother.

It was only a month ago that a package had arrived in the mail that Grandmother had sent from far away where she lived overseas. Knowing that it must be filled with all sorts of fun surprises and goodies I very eager to open it. And just as I had guessed, there were indeed all sorts of gifts neatly wrapped in festive paper and tied with lots of curly bright ribbons.

Grandmother, in her infinite love always forwarded care packages to all of her Grandchildren filled with cellophane bags of gummy bears while others contained crunchy little fish crackers. Other packages contained small little bottles of sweet perfume, starched white handkerchiefs, a children’s book, and a delicate silver necklace.

However, there was one package which Grandma had neatly printed on saying that this particular package was to be opened last, for inside was an extra special surprise.

Scrutinizing the package wrapped in pretty paper I saw that it was rectangular in shape and quite thin.

Whatever could it be, I wondered.

At last, Mother opened it.

After shredding the paper away from the box, she carefully pulled away the cellophane tape holding the lid in place.

A few moments later, the lid was lifted and a layer gently and Mother pulled back the white tissue to find a bright cherry red silk scarf.

Upon seeing the red scarf in the box, Mother let out a joyful cry.

Puzzled, I wondered what could be so special about a red silk scarf that would evoke such glee from Mother?

Seeing the confusion on my face, Mother began to explain.

“Do you know what this means?”

I shook my head no.

“This scarf means that Grandmother is coming for a visit.”

Then, Mother explained how it had always been a family custom to use a red scarf to help family members quickly find one another in a crowd of people.

“Now do you understand?”

Still, a little confused, I shook my head yes, although I really meant no.

Later, in the evening, a quick overseas phone call to Grandma confirmed that she was indeed arriving by boat in Montreal in one month’s time.

Good news indeed.

Each day Mother and I marked off the days on the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall until at long last, the big day finally came.

And now, here we both were on the bus that would take them to Montreal.

“Do you have the red scarf?” Mother asked me as our bus finally pulled out from the Toronto station.

With an affirmative nod, I opened her child’s purse revealing the neatly folded red scarf inside.

“Very good,” Mother said as I closed my purse with a snap.

“Now, don’t lose it,” Mother advised. “It’s very important.”

A package of gummy bears, a bag of chips, one bottle of pop, three trips to the bathroom and a long nap later, our bus finally pulled into the Montreal bus station.

My excitement at seeing my Grandmother grew with each passing minute. Indeed, I found it hard to sit still as we rode in the taxi headed towards the Montreal harbor. We arrived just in time to see the boat appear on the horizon. Together, we anxiously watched as it came closer and closer.

It seemed to take forever.

In time, we found ourselves inside a great crowd of people who openly cheered as the boat pulled into the dock.

Hundreds of people aboard the boat were lined against the ship’s railing cheered back at us.

I gave my Mother’s dress a tug to get her attention.

“Is Grandmother up there?” I asked.

“Yes she is Why don’t you get out the scarf so that we can wave at her and she’ll know where we are?”

Reaching into my purse, I pulled out the brilliant cherry red silk scarf.

“Now wave it as high as you can,” Mother instructed me.

I waved the red scarf enthusiastically up and down, back and for the as they stood together on the pier.

“You see,’ said Mother, “it will be very easy for Grandmother to find us in the crowd because we’re the only ones waving a red scarf.

At last, I understood the mystery behind the red scarf. Indeed it all made perfect sense to me now

On and on, I waved the scarf. First in my left hand, then in my right. And when both my arms grew very tired and sore, I handed the scarf to Mother so that she could continue waving.

At long last, we spotted Grandmother rushing towards us. I flew into Grandmother’s arms and held her tightly as she kissed my cheek.

“Did you see me waving the red scarf you sent us Grandma?” Jackie asked as her Grandmother put her back down.

“Yes, of course I did,” Grandmother replied. “That red scarf showed me exactly where you and your Mother were waiting for me, just as I knew it would.”

And so, we were all reunited with thanks to the red scarf which Grandma had seen little Jackie wave from a distance to where she stood on the boat.

Through the years and decades that followed, I always used that very same scarf to help those that I loved find me, as I waved and signaled them from afar to say…

“Here I am and I love you very much.”

Forty years later I received the sad news that Grandmother had died.

Eleven years later, my Mother died.

In the days and weeks and months that followed, I spent a great deal of time remembering all the wonderful times our family had shared.

Then one day, as I was going through our photo albums, I spotted the picture that Grandmother had taken of me as a child standing on a pier in Montreal with my young Mother proudly standing next to me as I waved the red scarf.

How I miss my Mother and Grandmother.

I found myself wishing for the chance to tell them both how very much I love and miss them.

Closing the photo album, I rose from my chair in the living room. Then, after finding a wooden box given to me by my Mother I pulled out the very same scarf from so long ago.

Then, I went outside to my backyard and stood there alone and waved the red scarf above my head.

I knew that both Grandmother and Mother could easily see me as I waved the scarf at them to tell them

… “Here I am…

… and I love you both very much.”

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 42: Satan Get Behind Me

30 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Business, Capitalism, Ecology, Economics, Economy, Life, Poems, Poetry, Religion, Socialism, Society

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Tags

Baggage, Business, Capitalism, Crime, Ecology, Economy, heart, life, Lord, Mailbox, Mission, Poems, Poetry, Pollution, Religion, Satan, Socialism, Walmart, World

Don’t like small minded people
And the baggage that they bear
Whiney little voices
Whiney little cares
They’ve got their small agendas
Piggly and wrong
Wish they’d pack up their bags
Move it out
Moved it on…

Don’t have no time to listen
Got so much to do
The world is up in arms
The economy is screwed
My heart is on a mission
My mind is on a plan
So if you will excuse me
Going to do what I can…

Oh Lord
Give me the words to say
To turn these people
From their evil ways…

Satan get behind me

Know a little woman
She wears them size zero jeans
Flirts with all the guys
Gets them horny and mean
When she’s the center of attention
She thinks her life’s a blast
Believe me when I tell you
She’s a pain in the ass…

Just cleaned out my mailbox and let me tell you it’s full
With criminals like Walmart
What a bunch of bull
They outsource all the workers
They send their business south
That crap always gives me a bad taste in my mouth…

Oh Lord
Give me words to say
To turn these vipers
From their wicked ways…

Satan get behind me

The world is full of money grabbers
They’re all on the take
Screwing the workers
Polluting the lakes
Don’t need their petty bullshit about beating the Jones
It’s time you get a life
It’s time you get gone…

Oh Lord
Show us the way
To turn this world
From it’s evil ways

Satan get behind me
Satan get behind me
Satan get behind me

Amen.

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 41: Angels Are Not Slobs

29 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Bible Studies, Crafts, DIY, Education, Religion, Sewing, Stories

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Tags

Angels, Easter, Family, grandfathers, needle, sewing, Stories, tailor, thread, tomb, visits

Before my grandfather received the call to enter the ministry, he was apprenticed to be a tailor.

Whenever he would come to stay with us for an extended visit, he would look for something to sew. That would be how he kept busy. He was always asking us if there was anything that needed his attention. And thus I would always find him in a comfortable chair sewing this and mending that.

He had a penchant for needle and thread. Further, he would not tolerate any hole or fray in his grandchildren’s clothing. I can still see him looking me in the eye and telling me there is never any excuse to be seen wearing something torn. He regarded this as sheer negligence.

Whenever I found him alone and sewing, I’d place myself at his knee, and ask him to tell me a story. His rule of thumb was always one story a day. However, sometimes I managed to get as much as three stories out of him.

Good times.

After agreeing to tell me a story, he always thought for a moment to decide which one he should tell.

“Do you remember the Easter story,” he asked, as he returned his attention back to stitching a pant seam.

“Of course I do,” I answered back quickly.

“But Opa…”

(which is the name I called him)

“…it’s not Easter.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he said…

“Do me to tell you a story or not?”

“Yes Opa.”

“Okay,” he continued…

“Now, tell me what happened on Easter Morning?”

The answer was almost too easy for me… he knew full well that I was well versed in the Easter story.

This was obviously leading somewhere. Curious, I decided to play along.

“The three women went to the tomb.” I answered.

“What did they see?”

“They saw that the stone leading to Jesus’s tomb had been rolled away and that the tomb was open.”

“What happened then?” he asked me.

“There were angels sitting on the stone and they told the women that Jesus was not there.”

I was beginning to get bored, but I tried not to let it show. That would put any further stories in jeopardy.

He continued his story with, “What happened then?”

“The women went into the cave.”

“And what did they find?”

“Opa, can I have another story?”

“No, answer the question….

“Did they find Jesus in the cave?”

“No, he was not there, just like the angels told them. They only found his burial cloth.”

Then at last came what would be Opa’s final question…

“And did they find Jesus’s burial cloth on the ground?”

“No,” I replied, “the women found it neatly folded lying on stone.”

All at once he dropped his sewing, raised his hand and playfully pointed an accusing finger at me.

“And let that be a lesson to you,” he gently chastised me. “Angels never leave anything lying on the floor. They always neatly fold and put everything back in their proper place.”

I must admit…

I never saw that coming.

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 40: Travelling With Dogs

28 Friday Nov 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Animals, Dogs, Pets, Poems, Poetry, Travel

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Amimals, Bed, Disney, dogs, Highway, Kids, Pets, Poetry, Restaurants, Sleep, Travel, Treats

It hardly seems like like twenty years
When we packed up the kids
And put the car in gear
And drove for twenty-four hours
To do the Disney thing…

And I’ve got to say those times were the best
But times have changed
Now that they’ve left the nest
It’s nice for hubby and me to be a twosome again

Like I said before the kids are now grown
So now whenever we leave home
We still have two small fry
And they got four legs and a tail…

There’s Sweet Miss Sophie and she’s a Shi-Poo
She likes to hide the toys
From Bobby “Little Man” Shih-tzu
It’s a match made in heaven
And they’re quite a pair…

So now when we travel away from home
The dogs ride in the back
Boy, they hate being there alone
And you know, they always kick up a noisy fuss…

So they both make the leap and then sit on my lap
Then they settle down and take a long nap
Next thing you know
They’re snoring in my ears…

They’re favourite part is when we stop to eat
Because they know that then they’re in for a treat
Then they get a walk in the tall grass
And have a long pee…

But they’ve got to have ketchup on their french fry
And if you don’t put out they’ll whimper and cry
They’ll act like their dear lives
Have been put on the line…

That’s way it is
That’s the way it goes
When you travel with critters with cold black noses
Lord, they take up the bed and then sleep like a log…

But to tell you the truth it’s really okay
And we just wouldn’t have it any other way
Because we really love traveling the highway
With our two dogs…

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 39: Counting The Herbies

27 Thursday Nov 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Automobiles, Automotive, Computers, Education, Entertainment, Family, Fitness, Mathematics, sociology, Stories, Technology

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Adventure, Aunts, Automobiles, blogs, Computers, Counting, Cousins, Disney, Fairfax, Family, Fitness, Games, Herbie, Highways, Math, Movies, Technology, The Love Bug, Uncles, Virginia, Volkswagen, VW, Washington DC, Writing

I wonder if young people today ever consider how their parents and grandparents survived without iPhones, video-games, iPads, computers, and other hand held gaming devices?

I am happy to report to them that not only did we survive but we survived happily, and with many fond memories.

In fact, I feel saddened by the loss of interaction between young people, children, and adults because of all the new gadgets available today.

First of all, I was absolutely and unequivocally blessed with the best Aunts, Uncles, Cousins and Grandparents.

It is only because of them and their generous and loving nature that I was able to see just about every single Disney movie along with all the other blockbuster hits made for children and teenagers on the wide screen during the 1960s and 1970s.

However, there was one movie that our family always referred to with love and reverence.

The movie that I am referring to is:

“The Love Bug.”

Our entire family loved this movie so much that we invented a game in this movie’s honour which quickly became a favorite past-time for many years.

This game was called:

‘Counting The Herbies,’

This game was always best played at my Aunt and Uncle’s home in Fairfax Virginia. Down the street from their house was a ravine which overlooked one of the busiest highways in the state. I will guess that this is because we were only twenty minutes outside of Washington DC.

Hence, the heavy traffic.

On a nice afternoon, usually after lunch it would be suggested that we all go for a walk down the street and…

‘Count The Herbie’s’.

For this walk we were usually accompanied by either a parent or a grandparent.

My fondest recollections however, are those which included my grandfather.

With his cane in hand he would stroll down the block with no less than three grandchildren in tow and sometimes as many as six.

And then the counting would commence.

One, two, three, four, five Herbies…

Each of us would pipe up in turn as they came into view.

It wasn’t always that easy when the traffic was fast and heavy. Sometimes it could even get a bit tedious if traffic was intermittent and sparse.

But one thing was for sure….

There were lots and lots of Volkswagen autos out on the roads. In those days, these cars were very popular as well as economical.

And so we would count till we had reached one hundred Herbies.

Then, highly amused and pleased with ourselves we would head back to my Aunt’s and Uncle’s house where we would feast on Ho-Ho’s and Hawaiian Punch.

Life was very good then.

We got our exercise, a family outing, practiced our math and observational skills and interacted as a loving family.

Now tell me, what software app can do that?

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 38: Tony’s Pizza Cutter

26 Wednesday Nov 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Poems, Poetry, Writing

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Tags

dough, Italy, Pizza, pizza cutter, Pizzaria, Poems, Poetry, trattoria, Verse

Tony Martino owned a pizzeria
It was called Papa’s Trattoria
The food was fine
The atmosphere was good
And the hot spot in our neighbourhood…

Got a job there as soon as I was able
Washing dishes and bussing dirty tables
Then when I was in college
Tony said:
“Joe, how would you like to make the pizza dough…”

First, I had to get pretty good
Working with an oven filled with wood
When I aced that, Tony finally said to me:
“It’s time to learn my secret recipe…”

And so from scratch I learned to mix the flour
With the yeast, then let it rise for an hour
The test was if a knife went through like butter
With the aid of Tony’s precious pizza cutter…

But Tony had his funny ways
Like when he always use to say:
“You better watch out if you ever toucha
My Nonno’s old and precious pizza cutter…”

The girls came from all over town
To watch me spin the dough and throw it down
But I didn’t have much time to date you see
While I studied for my business degree…

And it didn’t take me long
To learn the words of some Italian songs
They loved to watch me toss the dough up high
As I sung Volare making their pizza pie…

When I graduated, the very next day
Poor old Tony went and passed away
Soon after that I got a package from Tony
Given to me by his grieving family…

Perhaps you know what was inside
When I saw the pizza cutter how I cried
I promised Tony in heaven I’d make him proud
By serving the best pizza the world round…

Years later I now can proudly say
My pizza business grows with every day
I’ve a chain of pizzerias doing swell
And Tony’s pizza cutter has served me well…

Now, I’ve got nice house and growing family
And I’m grateful for all that Tony did for me
All in all, my life really isn’t badda
As people in this world get a little fatter…

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 37: Thank You Jim Croce

26 Wednesday Nov 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Artists, Lyrics, Music, Poems

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Artist, Bad Bad Leroy Brown, blogs, Jim Croce, Love Songs, Lyrics, Music, Songwriter, thank you, Time In A Bottle, Tragedy, Writer

Many years ago I watched an interview with Jim Croce, and the experience he shared has always stayed with me.

I remember this interview every time I find myself brainstorming for a new idea to write about.

Some of you will remember Jim Croce as the phenomenal singer songwriter who came to our attention in the early 1970’s.

I remember his songs and will never forget them.

How could one, with songs like; Time In A Bottle, Bad Bad Leroy Brown, I’ll Have To Say I Love You In Song, Operator, Lover’s Cross, and the list goes on.

The sad ending of his life and the others with him, involved a tragic plane crash in Louisiana in 1973.

In my lifetime, I will never see such a blazing rising star so quickly extinguished in such a devastating loss.

And what of the songs that might have been?

In the interview I referred to above, Jim Croce remembers visiting a bar one night.

The bartender, he noticed was a totally bald man.

Being bald then, was not as nearly popular as it is now.

As the night wore on Jim eventually felt comfortable enough to refer to his bartender’s bald head.

The bartender’s response to Jim Croce’s comment was:

“I’m not bald, I just have more face to wash.”

Jim laughed at his bartender’s self revelation, and then ended the discussion by making the following point:

“This guy doesn’t belong in the line of the song…”

“Man, HE IS A SONG.”

The lesson that I learned from this was in the observation of life, one must never overlook, diminish or negate who or what is directly in front of them.

Thank you Jim Croce for the love, the words, and the inspiration.

Be forever rest assured that your music made this world a better place.

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 36: When My Demons Come Out To Play

25 Tuesday Nov 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Poems, Poetry

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Tags

Blindness, Demons, Mental Health, Poems, Poetry

There are times
When I find
That it’s easy to accept
The contents of my mind…

Other times
More unkind
The gale force winds
They drive me blind…

And where the truth is
I cannot say
That’s when my demons
Come out to play…

There’s such shame
Am I to blame
For those demons
I know well enough to name…

I can tell
When I’m unwell
When these demons
Put me under their spell…

And where the truth is
I cannot say
And oh
The fear it haunts
It knows my secrets
And my wants…

In the darkness
they creep and taunt
And sing in chorus
As I sit centre front…

Damn.

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 35: Charming

25 Tuesday Nov 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Blogs, jewellry, Life, Stories

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Bracelets, Charm Bracelet, Charms, heart, Jewellry, Merino Glass, remember, work

“What a lovely charm bracelet,” my coworker said to me at work one day.

It was a pretty bracelet. I had bought it in Italy for only five euros. The reason it had caught my eye was because of the multitude of silver dangling ‘doggie-bone’ charms.

Consisting of pretty blue beads made of Marino glass and silver beads it was big and bold. What I liked best about the bracelet was that it looked fun, and the dog bone charms would make for excellent conversation starters.

“You know my sister had a charm bracelet,” he continued.

Stopping what I was doing, I gave him my full attention.

“Yes, it was way back when we were still quite young,” he said as he continued to admire my bracelet.

“My sister’s bracelet was so filled with charms that it weighed a ton.”

“And do you know what?” he added…

“…She knew where she got every single one of those charms… and let me tell you, her bracelet had more charms than any bracelet I ever saw.”

“Nice,” I replied.

“She could even tell you where each charm came from and who gave it to her.”

“That’s pretty incredible,” I told him.

“Yes, but there was one charm that she had no idea where it came from… not a clue.”

“Really!”

“Yes, for years she racked her brain, but she just couldn’t remember who gave it to her.

“What did the charm look like?” I asked intrigued.

“It was a lovely rose coloured heart shaped charm,” he said.

“What was really interesting,” he continued, “were the two words that were engraved on the heart.”

“What were the two words?” I asked him.

He looked at me and answered:

“Remember Me…”

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 34: My One (Tenuous) Link To Carl Sagan

24 Monday Nov 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Entertainment, Media, Movies, Science, Space

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Aliens, Carl Sagan, Contact, Employment, Entertainment, Herndon, Jobs, Jodie Foster, Movies, Newspapers, Science, Space, The Herndon Tribune, Virginia

When it comes to favourite movies, ‘Contact’ based on Carl Sagan’s novel, raises high marks.

If you were to ever sit and watch the movie with me, there is one particular point in the movie that I tend to get all excited about, and I start going on and on.

At least that’s what my family tells me.

If you’ve seen the movie, then you will remember the house that Ellie lived in with her father when she was a little girl. As soon as that house appears on the screen, I go back in time and recount to whoever will listen my connection with that very same house.

Well, believe it or not, I delivered newspapers to that house.

No word of a lie. I really did.

It was the summer of 1970, when my father had been contracted to deliver The Herndon Tribune, a free newspaper to the entire town of Herndon, Virginia, which had a population of around 3,000 people.

Now, you may ask me, how I can be sure that I delivered newspapers to that particular house.

I can be sure because I delivered newspapers to every single damn house in the town of Herndon Virginia.

Multiple times, and during every season.

My father had carefully planned maps where we broke up the streets and methodically delivered newspapers starting Friday after school, and right on till Sunday afternoon.

We roasted from the heat during the summer, and my feet turned to popsicles during the winter. I keenly remember dad trying to thaw me out at a MacDonald’s with hot chocolate which then cost a whole fifteen cents.

So for three days of hard work, I got $15.00 for my efforts, a lot of money for a youngster.

The newspaper came out every three weeks, so for seven months or so, I made a tidy little sum which I used to purchase my first portable television, (black and white of course) for $99.00.

So there you have it.

Looking back, not only was it was a good experience, it provided me with a story which I find myself recounting every time we watch that movie.

That being said, I would like to offer my gratefulness for a very patient family.

In closing, I have been all about Carl Sagan ever since the debut of COSMOS in 1980.

I have read his books, watched his interviews and shared his thoughts.

And so for me, ANY link to Carl Sagan….

…tenuous or not,

…is a good link.

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