The Squamidian Report – Feb.16 / 19
Issue #873
Including:
From Russ
From Lorne
The Ontarion
Hi All,
I’ve been working hard lately. I’m doing a playing gig up at the
gondola a week from Sunday and I’m determined to know the words to
every song I do. I’ve always known the words to most of my material but
there has often been a few numbers that I’d need to take the occasional
peak at the sheet music in order to get the next line or verse going in
the right direction. I don’t want to have to do that this time. All I
want to need is my play list. When doing a 3-hr gig there is no way I
can expect myself or anyone else to be able to simply pull several
dozen songs out of the air when under a bit of pressure. If the gig was
only half an hour long or so there’d be no problem at all with doing
that, I’ve done that before many times but for a gig that takes a good
part of the afternoon I’ll concede to needing the list, but not needing
the sheets of lyrics.
I’ve seen other single or group performers up there and other places
who are constantly looking through their music book to find the page
with the song they want to do on it. Then they go through the whole
number looking down at the page of music. What they don’t know is that
not only does it look unprofessional, but they probably do actually
know the words to their songs. The sheet music has simply become a
crutch. With a bit of effort they could and should be able to set the
books aside and just enjoy the gig without the hassle, fuss and muss of
turning pages and feeling reliant on the pages. But thats just me and
I’m old and cranky and set in my ways.
*
The
other morning, while on my way home from my usual walk and coffee up at
the gondola, I stopped in at ‘my’ grocery store to pick up a jug of
milk. Now, I refer to it as ‘my’ store because its the one I tend to
pick groceries up at as opposed to ‘Sue’s’ grocery store where she
prefers to shop. Anyway, I went in and headed to the back where the
milk coolers are, only to find there was almost no milk available and
what they did have was not the 2% stuff we use. Bummer. I looked around
for someone to ask if they had any 2% hidden out back somewhere but,
predictably, couldn’t find anyone. Just as I was about to give up and
leave I saw a women coming out of the back with a cart full of small
cream containers etc. I asked if they had any jugs of 2% and she said
yes, in the back somewhere, how many do I want. Well, I said just one
jug. So, moving at the speed of a snail she wandered back into the back
and eventually came out with ONE jug of milk. Now, under the same
circumstances, I would have brought out a case of jugs in order to put
the rest of them into the cooler for the next customers looking for
this product. I thanked her for her ‘effort’ and headed to the
checkouts.
I got thinking about it of course. Here was a totally uninspired
worker, doing exactly what minimum wage required which is, minimum
effort. She was not at all interested in being efficient or even
helpful because thats not what she’s been paid to do. Just “do what you
are told”, not being paid to ‘think’. And that reminded me that I was
in the same boat one time half a century ago. I was in fact told that I
was being paid to do what I was told and NOT being paid to think. I was
young and impressionable way back then. I was working in a field that
had caught my attention and was starting to get interested in making
that line of work my profession. Even started thinking about learning
more, taking courses and perhaps joining the ranks of the professionals
if I did in fact manage to get the training and lessons necessary.
However, I made what apparently was a major blunder, I had the gaul to
ask the ‘professional’ I was working under ‘WHY’ as he barked out some
orders. I wanted to know why we were doing what we were doing. It was
not a challenge, it was a query. As in, “what is the reason for doing
this a certain way and what will it accomplish”. Well, I was told in no
uncertain terms that I will NEVER question him again and NEVER ask WHY
again. I was to just do what I’m told, keep my mouth shut, and if I
ever ask WHY we were instructed to do something a certain way I would
be out of a job. Period. It was at that point I lost all interest in
that particular profession and all respect for the people who were
professionals in that profession. The closed mindedness and refusal to
impart information of one small minded person turned me off. I will
never know if I even possessed the necessary abilities and brains to
become a professional in that field. The sneaky and underhanded way he
treated the unfortunates under him soured any further interest I had in
that line of work. I endured working under that person for a while but
eventually moved on. And thats ok, I certainly can’t complain about
where I ended up. For me, life’s pretty good.
All that because I ran into a totally uninspired minimum wage grocery store worker. Go figure.
doug
****
From Russ
Are you going too?
This is a story about a “Story”, and may sound familiar to some. I make no apologies, so there!
Every once in a while, they needed a ‘police escort’ for a mental
patient being admitted to The Ontario Hospital in London. It was ‘paid
duty’, so I frequently volunteered. The dress code for such an escort
was ‘plain clothes’ (but not a suit!). The only way we could identify
ourselves as cops was to show our ‘Badge, and Oath card’ which we
always carried in our wallets. I almost felt half-dressed; no gun, no
visible handcuffs, and no visible ‘Billy club’.
Trying to shove an unruly prisoner into a police cruiser is difficult
to say the least, so we used the police ‘paddy-wagon’ (your typical
“Keystone Cops” variety) for these excursions.
Armed with a “Warrant of Committal”, Constable Robert (Bob) Amstein and
I attended the County Jail to pick up our patient. Why was he held in
jail? Could be because he was violent, and the hospitals won’t
admit violent people, if they can avoid it; or he could have been
charged with a “crime of violence”, and was before a judge for trial,
and the judge ‘Remanded him for 30 day’s observation”, before
continuing his case.
The County Jail was just a ‘stone’s throw’ from the police station, so
the paddy- wagon was not yet warmed up. Even though we arrived in a
police vehicle, being in plain cloths, we had to identify ourselves as
cops before they would open the barred door. Once inside, we handed the
papers to the Warden, who looked them over very carefully, then signed
his name and returned them to us. He led us to the cells where we saw a
man standing upon the window sill of a barred window looking out at our
fair city. The windows, though large (about 5 ft. By 8 ft.) were set
high off the cell’s floor purposely so prisoners could not easily hop
up and look out.
“OK, let’s go” said the Warden. The man ignored him.
“Time to go, your ride’s here”. Nothing, so he tugged at the man’s
pantleg, while coaxing him to come down, but this guy was firmly
affixed and refusing to come down. Why didn’t he simply ask us to help?
We could easily have forced him into our custody.
“You want we should help?” Asked Bob, in perfect English. The Warden
advised against this action. Why? It seemed they were “afraid” of this
man. He didn’t show any signs of aggression, only stubbornness. So I
gave it a try.
“We’ll be taking you to a hospital where you will get the help you need”
We were taught never to lie to a suspected mental patient.
“Is it a mental hospital?” he asked, timidly.
“Yes”, I replied. (Now, he’s going to get hostile, I assumed).
Strangely enough, he came down from his perch peacefully, and we had no
trouble getting him to step up into that big, black, ominous-looking,
panel truck (paddy- wagon).
Bob would drive as he was the senior officer, I would accompany the patient in the back of the wagon, to ensure his safety.
BANG! Bob slams the heavy, metal doors shut. We’re locked in. There is
no escape!! This is not the first time I’ve been required to sit in the
rear of the wagon, but this time I’m very nervous. There are two rows
of seats, one on each side, I take my place on the opposite side, as
far away from him as possible. Why? I’ll tell you why. While escorting
our patient out of the cell area, the Warden whispers to me,
“He bites”.
This is why we were cautioned not to grab him. The guards found out the
hard way; whenever they pulled him from his place at the barred window
he would try, and sometimes succeed in biting their hands.
Now, we’re on our way to London, a 90 minute ride on the 401; he’s
staring at me. I’m staring back. After a while, he begins to inch
toward me. I tense up. Now, he’s within two feet of me! He keeps
staring, I keep tensing. He makes a quick shift to my side of the
truck! Now, he’s ‘within biting distance’. He opens his mouth, his
teeth are yellow and long, his breath is that of a carnivore, he’s
right up against me! Should I bolt? That would be futile, there’s no
escape. I’m just about to get him in a ‘half-Nelson’ when he asks, in a
timid voice,
“Are you going too?”
Wee-ooh! He thinks I’m another patient going to the mental hospital!
We finally arrive at the Ont. Hospital, Bob unlocks the doors of the
paddy wagon (I hope he does not see me still shaking, as I quickly exit)
Now, the three of us are walking quietly toward the hospital door. Bob
presses the button for an Attendant, a man in a white coat arrives and
introduces himself, as Doctor So and so. Bob hands him the papers
and we three walk in. I could hear the door automatically lock behind
us. There is no escape from this place either! We arrive at a desk
where another white coat is waiting. He quietly asks,
“And who is the patient?”
“Here’s your man!” shouts Bob, and pushes me forward.
“No, not me, here’s the man you want”, I point to the real one. But now there are two firm, but gentle hands on my two arms!
“No!” I protest loudly. “It’s not me you want!”
“It’s better if you don’t cause a scene...come along quietly, please”.
Now I’m fighting!
“NO! No! You’ve got the wrong man! Tell them Bob!! This is NO TIME for a JOKE!!”. I’m in a panic now.
Finally, Bob’s had his laugh (at my most uncomfortable expense) and he
sets things straight. The authoritative Doc in the white suit is NOT
amused. He turns into our ‘school principal’, and ‘scolds us, making us
feel like ‘ashamed schoolboys’. (and NOT at all like ‘real cops!)
To this day, I feel the wrong man was admitted to the mental hospital.
By Russell G. Brubacher
Constable #20 KPD
****
From Lorne
Not having a good winter. We are all experiencing unusual weather
no matter where we live. The freezing rain left ice on every exposed
surface especially my bare driveway. Attempting to unload a purchase
from the rear of my car parked along the porch, the car facing the
street, my feet went out from under me, so not to try to save myself, I
sat down on the wet, cold ice. Sliding on my bum to reach the hand rail
along the length of the porch, I was able to pull and slide myself to
the deck at the side door. I rolled up on the deck to a lawn
chair whereupon I was able to raise myself onto my feet. I had no idea
I was that heavy. It took all my strength to get there. This was
about 10 pm and no one else around. I felt no pain then or the next day
and still don't, but have trouble walking to the point that I cancelled
all engagements and remained home. I blew fresh snow to-day,
Wednesday, but needed help from Al and Carol to get to the
tractor shed even though I wore shoe crampons. I must remember to carry
my cel phone with me.
Lorne
****
THE ONTARION REPORT
Hello everyone!
Happy St Valentine’s Day to all the lovers in the Squamidian family!
At least the weather cleared up for the celebration of this once a year
special day! I sent a good part of the day at Grand River Hospital for
my semi annual kidney check up with the specialist and got a totally
positive report on my current health. It made for a very positive day
indeed. It’s always good to here that things are going well in the
health department for one’s self and this report was a good one for me!
With spring just around the corner now it’s not so bad when Mother
Nature drops a nice clean 6” of snow on your lap! I’ve managed to blow
the snow twice in the past couple of days and it was actually fun to
get outside and do something other than head to the local hospital.
LOL! I spoke to Doug about our matching snow blowers and how much
trouble I’d had to get the darned thing to start lately, even after
having it tuned up to the extent of over $300.00. He told me his method
of starting his machine and when I tried the exact method on mine the
other day it started on the first pull of the cord! What a pleasant
surprise it was to get it running on the first pull! On the second day
it also started with the first yank of the cord. So I guess I have (or
rather Doug has) solved the starting problem. I no longer have to go to
the trouble of stringing out an extension cord to plug the blower in to
start it with the electric starter function that’s built in to the
motor. It’s less trouble indeed if I can start it with one pull of the
manual starter. I was telling Doug that I was pulling the start cord
several dozen times before the motor would start and of course it’s one
thing that’s very hard on me after my surgery. I’m not supposed to over
exert myself anymore so it was actually a dangerous thing to have to do
in my condition. Just want to thank Doug for the advice. It proved to
be that with five pushes of the primer button the blower would start
every time with just one pull of the cord. I guess I was flooding the
carburetor before by over priming it when starting the blower and now
that I’ve found the correct amount to prime it, it starts perfectly.
*
Adam
still has his 2004 Jeep Liberty for sale if anyone is interested in a
low mileage vehicle that’s perfect for these winter months. He’s made
sure it’s in tiptop shape and is selling it fully certified and
mechanically fit! It’s only got 116,000 km on the odometer and runs
like a new vehicle. It’s been rust proofed every hear of it’s life and
the body is in perfect condition. In fact it looks and runs like a new
vehicle! It’s a medium blue colour with a charcoal cloth interior
that’s showing no wear so please drop me a line if you might be
interested in this fine vehicle. He’s asking $5900.00 or best offer for
the Jeep.
That’s my sales pitch for this week!
I’m going to call an end to this weeks column at this point and want to
say I hope you all had lots of love on this year’s Valentine’s Day!
Take care and thanks for tuning in.
I’ll look forward to talking to you all again next week in The Ontarion Report!
By for now … Greg
PS: Something To Think About>
No man is lonely when eating spaghetti. It requires so much attention!
****
Have a good one..
the doug
The Fine Print!
The articles in these issues are the sole property of the persons writing them and should be respected as such.
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