Posted on February 27, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet

Standing in the hallway leading to the front door of the house, in my pajamas, I hand over my money to the lady selling 50/50 tickets.  I don’t normally buy tickets on games of chance because my track record is abysmal.  But when the ticket seller is your neighbor selling tickets to support her daughter’s hockey team, well, what chance do you have to say no?  Maybe my luck will change and maybe the Maple Leafs will win the Stanley Cup.  Hope springs eternal.

The first time I had a chance to lose my allowance was the annual parish bazaar held at the old, iconic Parish Center.  I have often wondered who designed the building.  It had several curious design features, none more so than a small room, a veritable bomb shelter, overlooking the gymnasium floor.  The only time I ever remember it being in use was for the fish pond at the bazaar. It may have had something to do with the Cold War but building this room that the Dept. of National Defense would have relished seemed a little extreme.  I mean, stuffed animals, plastic toys and religious artifacts are hardly the stuff that would be treasured by the enemy.

Ok, so I won a stuffed dog at the fish pond, if you can call that luck.  Wait now, everybody wins at the fish pond so strike that off the list.  A few years ago, I did actually win fifty pounds of lobster in a draw that only fattened my waist line and not my wallet.

I do remember the exact date when I hit the mother lode.  It was February 28^th. The year is unimportant. It was the last day of RRSP season and as a financial advisor, this was one of three dates on the calendar when there was a deadline.  And it was frantically busy, when the phone rang with an incredibly cheerful voice on the end of the line announcing that I was a winner. Why are these telephone people always deliriously happy, as if they had won the stupid prize? The conversation was brief.  “Mr. MacDonald, you’ve won…”  “I don’t care what I’ve won; I’m too busy to talk.”   “But Mr. MacDonald, you don’t understand…”  “No, you don’t understand.  I’m extremely busy and under the gun.”  “But Mr. MacDonald you’ve won a leather chair!” “I don’t give a rat’s ass what I’ve won. I don’t want it. Give it to someone else.”  And with that I hung up.

 The day mercifully came to an end and as we shut off the lights to the office, my wife asked me about my day.  I told her about the annoying telemarketer who tried to foist a leather chair on me.  She didn’t have to say anything.  I could tell by the look on her face that the word “idiot” was about to cross her lips.  You see, she had put our names into a draw awhile back when we had purchased new furniture for our home office.

Moments later, she was on the phone frantically trying to track down someone in a call centre to claim stupidity on her husband’s part and to plead for clemency.  A few weeks later, a lovely high backed blue leather chair graced our office.

If I receive a call today saying that I won the 50/50, I will just pass the phone to my wife.  Don’t want to push my luck.

 

Posted on February 26, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet

As some of you know, my colleague, Phil Milner is also a contributor to The Casket. He has a great story coming out in today’s edition ( Feb.26/13 ). Check it out. I will be posting a new story on my blog tomorrow.

Posted on February 23, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet

A recent announcement of a huge winter storm sent people scurrying to the grocery store to load up with essentials like food, water and candles.  The threat of freezing rain and possible power outages creates a herd mentality.  Let’s face it.  To survive in the midst of a power failure, storm surges or pestilence,  you need the necessities of life, including food and water… and coffee.  While it may not be your cup of tea, a cup of coffee is more important to some people than a blood transfusion.  To wit, the lineups at a national coffee chain are significantly longer than those at blood donor clinics.

Some of our spouses absolutely refuse to get out of bed until they can smell the coffee brewing in the morning.  Like Pavlov’s dog, they are conditioned to the sound of the coffee maker when it beeps to indicate that the coffee is ready.  They salivate at just the thought of the imminent caffeine fix.  When the indicator goes off, even if they are in the middle of a dream, they will bolt upright and appear at the kitchen table like a zombie,  waiting to wrap their hands around a mug of java.  I found that this is much more highly desirable than having those same hands wrapped around your throat on the off chance that that they show up before the coffee is ready.  Yeah.  And I have a chance at winning the lottery.

A car won’t run without gas.  A cow can’t produce milk without eating hay.  Apparently most of the free world cannot function until it has caffeine coursing through its veins early in the morning.  In the height of the worst winter storm imaginable, where will you find lineups?  At the national coffee chains, of course.   When the police insist that vehicles stay off the roads during a storm except for emergency vehicles, little do they realize that a car or truck constitutes an emergency vehicle if coffee is required on the home front.  At least they don’t have to go far to arrest transgressors.

And when the power does go out at home, think Boy Scouts.  Be prepared.  You must remember to have a portable radio, candles, and water, at a bare minimum.  And you must have a way to make coffee.  The venerable Coleman stove has saved a lot of marriages.  And more recently portable generators have become all the rage.  Don’t be fooled.  People don’t buy these to keep food from thawing or to keep a few lights on.  You know what they are really used for.

We are thinking about acquiring a team of huskies.  In a crisis, we could mush our way to the coffee shop in the worst weather Mother Nature could throw at us.  Hopefully the “no pets” sign doesn’t include sled dogs.

So, wake up and smell the coffee, folks.  We may have global warming, the oceans may be rising and greenhouse gases could be destroying the ozone.  As long as we have coffee, the planet (and my marriage) will survive.