Monday, December 27, 2021

NOSY PARKER

 I've had a lot of misses in my life;  I'm one myself.  I never married, nor was I asked.

I like dogs but never owned one. 

I live with my sister Fay.  She is older than I but not by much.  Over the years, we've been asked if we are twins.  Presumably there is a family resemblance.  We both have dark hair but hers is a lighter brown.  We are almost the same height.  Fay is almost one inch taller and I claim one inch shorter, and say I am 5 foot four, although that's a reach.  She is curvaceous, I am not.  She has a short body and long legs.  I have a long body and short legs.  Other than those differences, we are identical.  

Fay and I have lived in an old house in Deep Cove, originally a cabin, a few years before 2007 when I retired.  The house is on the water, the views are beautiful, and was gifted to Fay by her friends Dorothy and Harvey.  Fay was a nearby neighbour and confidant. 

Harvey, one of the previous owners, was a wonderful person.  He is of  course presently dead, a phrase he often used.  Harvey was ahead of his time and was a champion of environmental issues that he felt would affect our planet and therefore future generations.

For example, the idyllic gravel road into and out of his beloved Deep Cove village he felt should be kept in perpetuity.  He objected strenuously to authorities who were intent on paving the road.  Community meetings were arranged to listen to the thoughts and feelings of the residents.  They listened alright, and then as usual went on with their plans and paved the road. They'd already decided.

I'd planned a trip to Lonsdale Quay to meet my old boss Bob for coffee and much talk.  We always had plenty to talk about.  I jumped in the car, drove up Strathcona Road where we live, and turned left on to Deep Cove Road; the name changes to Dollarton at the Mount Seymour turn.  It is paved all the way.  Sorry, Harvey.

I was halfway along Dollarton when I spied a mean, lean man kicking a puppy at the side of the road.  I pulled to the curb shouting "Hey asshole" as I got out of the car to confront him.  "Mind your f...ing business" he said' and then added "f...ing nosy parker".  "This is my business" I shouted back, and then added "Stop that.  I'm phoning the police who will phone the SPCA."  I took out my cell phone, which hasn't been charged for many months, and placed it to my head.  I motioned the act of dialing.  He relented and shoved the puppy at me.  "He's all yours, you f...ing nosy parker."  The guy's vocabulary is lacking but I have the puppy and turned back to my car.

The little bundle of pup was trembling in my arms.  His little white face peered at me expectedly, as his rescuer I suppose.  I cuddled him close and noticed he winced when I touched his small leg which had a touch of blood on it.  I don't know what make and model he is.  He's dark, looks black with that white face and four white feet.

I got into the car and placed my little quivering bundle in a big brimmed hat I carry in the car in case of rain while I'm out.  He looked at me anxiously.  There's an emergency Vet shop over near the 2nd Narrows bridge.  I'll take him there for care, and hope I can drop him off there, and continue to Lonsdale Quay for the pre-arranged meeting with my old boss Bob.  I hope he doesn't give up on me because I may be late.

I met Bob at ICBC where I worked for about 35 years before I took a late retirement.  He and I met in the Public Enquiries department when ICBC started up to replace private insurance in the province.  Bob was the supervisor,  I was an underwriter moved to his department by the Underwriting Department to help the phone staff of Public Enquiries with automobile insurance questions from the public.  I was no expert but I just made up rules and requirements as needed on a daily basis.  It was a good and fun time at ICBC in those early days and my memories of colleagues remains with me.  Bob is the one I continued to see after my retirement.  He had retired earlier than I.  He was a bit older, but not much. 

I am so looking forward to seeing and talking with Bob at the Quay and hope this bloody puppy won't hold me up too much.  There is blood involved so I have a ready excuse to make to my old pal Bob for my lateness.

I parked outside the Vet's and hoped he was open.  Nothing stirred when I knocked.  I knocked harder and longer.  The door opened a little and an old face peered out looking suspicious.  "My son, the Vet, won't be here for 20 minutes.  Come back later," said the old face.

I was having none of that.  Couldn't the old fool see I was holding a whimpering puppy.  I thrust the door wider and stepped into the room.  It looked like a waiting room.

"I'm leaving the puppy here," I said, placing the puppy in my hat on a low table near an old decrepit armchair.

"Watch him until your son arrives.  I'll be back at noon.  I have a very important appointment at the Quay which I cannot break."

I left the puppy and the room.  My new habit of speaking with authority seems to be working.

Bob was waiting for me in the usual place, and as usual, he was dressed casually but impeccably.  Like my sister he likes to iron and it shows.  I like the wrinkled look, and you guessed it, I don't like ironing.

I told Bob about the puppy that was thrust upon me at roadside earlier and that I'd left him at the Vet's for attention.

Bob jumped in here and said "I thought your sister didn't want a dog, and certainly not in the house."

 "That's so true Bob, but what could I do?  That awful man would've kicked him to death or thrown him under the wheels of a passing car."

"I hope your sister likes surprises," chuckled Bob.

I left Bob at the Quay at noon and drove towards home and the Vet's.  As I entered the Vet's office, a short, rather stocky man approached me with the puppy under his arm.  Both of them peered at me, the puppy anxiously, the man sporting  a wide toothy grin.

"Here's your little guy, Miss.  He's ready to go.  I checked him over carefully and, while he's bruised on that leg, the little cut I have doctored and left for the air to do its magic."

"So, he's OK?" I asked.

"Yes.  Bring him back in a month and I'll give him his shots to keep him safe."

"What breed is he?"

"I'm not sure.  He could be a Portuguese Water Dog with that white face and feet.  Or, he could be a mix.  I'm not sure.  Does it matter?  He's a cute little fella."

I turned to go with the puppy clutched close.

"What's his name?  I need it for my records."

"Parker," I said.

"That's a big name for a little guy like this.  I like it."

"Is he trained, Doctor?"

"Yes, he went over to the sand box I use for little pups like him.  That's a bonus, eh?  You'll need to keep him inside until he heals."

"OK.  I'll get a box and dirt on the way home."  I left.

"Let's go Nosy.  Time to go home and face the music.  Do you recognize your name" I said, peering into his wee face.  He butted my forehead.

"Are you smart, Nosy?"  He butted my forehead again, acknowledgement presumably.

To test him, I asked "Are you a bad dog?"  No response.

"Are you a good dog?"  He butted my head again.

I got into the car, placed Nosy in his hat on the passenger seat, started up the car and drove ever so slowly down Dollarton to Deep Cove Road.  Down Strathcona I went, right into our driveway on the water side, and slid into our carport.

"You're home Nosy."  He said nothing and burrowed deeper into my hat.

I lifted him up, hat and all, got out of the car, and moved up the stairs to the back door.  I peeked in.  Fay was standing near the dishwasher with her usual bowl of blueberries.

"Why do you have a puppy in a hat," she asked me suspiciously.

"I rescued him up on Dollarton.  A horrible man was kicking him and trying to throw him onto the road when he saw a truck coming."

"That's awful.  What kind of person could do such a thing to a small defenseless animal?"

"I don't know.  I can never truly understand that kind of anger.  It boggles my mind."

"He's very cute.  What kind of dog is he?"

"The Vet guessed he's a Portuguese Water Dog with a bit of a mix perhaps  You may remember President Obama had a dog like this back in the day."

"Oh yes, I remember that dog."  She paused and then said "You know I don't want a dog in the house."

"I know that.  I have to keep him inside for about a month, have him checked over by the Vet to make sure he's OK, and then I'll find him a home.  If all else fails, Mara might take him.  One more dog at her place up country won't matter."

"I don't know about that," said Fay.  Mara has some personal issues right now.  Her back is still bothering her and the treatment is dubious in my opinion and I tried to tell her that.  I know she's my daughter, but she never listens to me and never has."

"There's plenty of time for me to find this cute little guy a home."

"A month isn't long," said Fay and turned away.  Suddenly she stopped, turned, and said "Can he walk?"

I placed the hat on the floor at my feet, gave it a bit of a nudge, and waited, hoping Nosy would get the idea.

Slowly, Nosy stood and stepped out of the hat.  He tottered towards Fay and stopped near her feet which were encased in her fluffy blue slippers.  He leaned over and placed his front paws on Fay's slippers, and followed it up with his face.

I think the bugger likes Fay.  Why is that?  Why oh why do people or animals gravitate to the one who doesn't seem to care?  Love is a funny thing, I'm thinking.

Fay bent down and picked up the puppy, holding him up near her face.

"Is he trained?" she asked.

"The Vet said yes, although he sounded surprised.  Hold him while I get that box of dirt I have outside."

"Where did you get the dirt?  It's so unlike you to go digging."

"I'm using that big bag of potting soil, you know the one I got for our pitiful plants in those outside containers.  Remember, we thought new dirt might perk them up."

"Organic potting soil seems pretty costly for puppy litter."

"I think Nosy is worth it."    

I stepped outside to get the dirt box.  The sides of the box were too high for Nosy to step into so I cut one side down to about six or seven inches, filled the box, not too high, with the organic potting soil.  That should do it if I can convince him to use it  I can leave it near our back door but inside.

"Put him down," I told Fay.

Nosy tottered, albeit unsteadily, over to the box and stepped in without hesitation.  He did a little piddle and a little poop, wiped his bum on the dirt, got out of the box and went back to Fay.

He ignored me, the bugger, after all the work I did to get that damn box ready for his care.  Why did I bother?  I wonder what kind of food he likes, and what kind he can have.  I'll phone the Vet.

The next day I called the Vet at 10:00 o'clock  No need to call earlier as he wouldn't be there.  I asked him about the kind of food I could give Nosy.

"Nothing solid yet," he said.  "Any kind of liquid is good.  A bit of milk, water of course as much as he wants, and any soft food for now."

"I can do that," I said.  "I've got some leftover cottage cheese I must eat before it expires.  My sister doesn't care for it so it's a challenge for me to get through the big container I bought because it was on sale."

"That sounds fine," said the Vet.  "A bit of scrambled egg, loose if possible, would be good too."

"I like scrambled eggs myself.  Who wouldn't."

Later, Fay and Nosy stood side by side, looking at me.  Fay had opened her bedroom door which is off the kitchen, left the door ajar, and said it was time for her metamucil which she takes religiously and daily.  I don't know if it's for medical reasons or religious reasons.

Fay entered her bedroom and Nosy followed, plopped down on the floor near her bed and went instantly to sleep.  He's tired out from all the excitement he's had in his short life.

"Fay," I called out.  "If you don't want him in your room, you'll have to keep the door closed."

"He's OK here."

"Best to also shut the sliding door into the living room if you don't want him in there unattended."

"He'll be fine in there.  After all he is trained for the litter box.  Right?" 

"It's early days.  We don't know yet how trained he is."  I left the kitchen.  Time for my bath.

Later, now dressed, I entered the kitchen to get my last coffee and enjoy another cigarette in the privacy of my room.

I heard a bit of a whimper and scratching coming from Fay's closed door.  I opened it a bit, and quietly, and Nosy squeezed out.  He stopped, looked at me briefly, and then trotted towards the dining room.  I could hear the click click of his nails against the wood floor.  Needs a pedicure, I thought.  I know I do.

"Wait up, Nosy." He ignored me and walked up the wool runner rug that reached the entry way, opposite my bedroom door.

I moved forward, opened my bedroom door, and tried to usher Nosey in.  He looked in, briefly, and then turned back to the runner carpet, proceeded forward and plopped down head first onto the small irregular shaped rug facing the window and sideways to the front door.

"Stay there," I said, as if he ever listens to me.

What a dreary day, I thought.  Too wet to take Nosy out for a ramble and too wet for me too.  My outdoor coat is still damp from my morning walk.

Thinking ahead, when Nosy's on his feet, he can accompany me for my morning walks.  We can go over to the wooded area near Gordon's house.  Gordon is the master gardener of the area and his beautiful bushes and flowers are well known by all who walk by, including me.

After lunch, Fay and I watched an episode of ER, short for Emergency, an old medical series.  We have all the DVDs and there are many seasons so we don't have to find them at the Library.  We both enjoy this quiet interlude after lunch and I have a couple of cigarettes.  Even Fay will have a cigarette now, and she gave up smoking years ago.  She started smoking after the New Year.    I guess it was one of her New Year's resolutions.  She had nothing else to resolve, she said.

I watch TV from my wooden rocking chair which my old friend Harvey, who owned this house before us, fixed for me.  He did a nice job, and to keep the light-coloured seat clean over many sittings, I enclosed the top in an old red and black duvet I crocheted years ago.  It is made of a special stitch taught to me by an elderly neighbour who learned it from her friend who discovered it on a trip to Paris of all places.  It works well on my rocker and kinda matches a small red plaid blanket I found at the Thrift for $4.00.  It caught my eye because it is 100% wool and made in Scotland, a place I loved on an old trip with my sister.  Hawick I found fascinating and we visited some of the mills there and Edinburgh where wool like this in my little blanket was loomed.

Fay sits, or mostly lies, on a dark rosy pink loveseat, and watches TV from that restful location.  She has a two-coloured blanket, reddish colour on one side and  a soft navy colour on the other.  Sometimes it's cool in the evenings and she can cuddle up if necessary in her wee blanket. 

I went out to the hall, picked up Nosy and the blanket he seems to like and carried him back to the living room.  I placed him near my rocking chair, pointed him towards the TV, and settled myself comfortably in my chair with my plaid blanket over my knees.

Nosy stood, gave me what I thought was a look of disdain, if a dog can do disdain, turned away from me and tottered over to Fay.  He placed himself face down on the navy piece of Fay's blanket which was trailing on the floor near her head.  Nosy looked at Fay adoringly before he succumbed to sleep, something he does often and well.   What's that about, I'm thinking.  I care for him, physically and mentally, but the bugger prefers Fay.  

Now that he's walking a bit, I'll carry him down to the little park near the bush.  He'd like that.  He can walk, slowly, or quicker depending on his sore leg, and maybe will meet some kids who play there on the playground equipment designed for little people by the district.  I could hold him on my lap and use the swing which is set low for kids and good for me with my short legs.

Later in the day, I did all that and he seemed to be enjoying himself.  One little boy was very attentive and even scratched Nosy's belly when he rolled over onto his back.  The little boy cried when I took Nosy home.  He told me his Dad wouldn't let him have a dog and would I bring Nosy down the next day.  He looked pleased when I said yes, if his grin was any indication.

That night I took Nosy and his little blanket in to my bedroom and and placed him next to my bed.  I positioned his head towards the head of my bed.  He settled down nicely, and I was pleased as I drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, I woke as usual around 5:00 am.  I carefully lowered myself over the edge of my bed which is quite high.  The wee blanket was there, but no Nosy.  My door was more ajar than it usually is.  I leave it like that because the doorknob is a bit wonky.

I stumbled towards the kitchen to make the coffee as usual.  My big toe hurts so I was walking gingerly.  I peeked into the living room on passing to see if Nosy was in there.  No Nosy anywhere.  Now, what's he up to.

I plugged in my handy percolator, which I had prepared the night before, whisked up some milk in my handy stainless steel pot with spout for pouring and returned to my room for a cigarette while I wait.  It takes about one cigarette to perk and be ready for pouring.  

Fay isn't up yet but it's early, only 5:05 am.  We went to bed early last night and five hours of uninterrupted sleep is all I need.

Finally, my cigarette was finished and so was the percolator.  I was pouring my first cup, doctoring it with a bit of sugar and milk, when Fay came out of her room with Nosy right behind her.  He didn't even look at me, the bugger, just went over to his dirt box, did his business, and returned to stand by Fay who was pouring her black coffee.  She is watching her weight so she skipped the milk, as if that'll do any good. 

"I'm so sorry Fay.  My door wasn't properly latched, letting him slip through."

"It's OK" said Fay, finishing the pouring of the first of the two coffees she allows herself in the morning.

"But Fay, how did he get into your room?  It's not like you to leave your door ajar when you go to bed."

"He knocked and I let him in."

"Did he knock with his head?  It must be that as his paws are too soft."

"First, he scratched on the door.  I heard something but chose to ignore it.  Then, the banging began, presumably with his head, and roused me sufficiently to get me up and peek around the door.  He was in like a shot and flopped down at the side of my bed nearest the door."

"What can I say, Fay, but sorry."

"It's OK" said Fay with a bit of a smile.  "It's nice to have company at night.  I miss that."

"See you two guys later" I said, and walked away with my cup of coffee.  I like this cup.  It's red and white, has a nice big handle, and a funny face of two big eyes and a crooked mouth on the front with a protruding nose.  I'm drawn to noses for some reason unknown to me.

I entered my bedroom and sat down on my vanity stool, a gift from Fay many years ago, placed my cup on my antique walnut Chippendale desk, which it probably isn't, and peered at my face in the mirror which is almost round.  It is circled by a beautiful three inch gold patterned trim.

My looks are passable, I'd say.  Love's got nothing to do with looks however, so I can throw out that thought.  Maybe it's personality that draws one person, or dog in this case, to another.  Or, as Mom used to say, a bit of money helps.

Many people have written famous lines about love, and some have been sung.  There's Love is a Many-Splendored Thing, Love Makes the World go Round, and my favourite, Love Means Never Having To Say You're Sorry.  I think of these as bullshit lines.  I wish I'd thought of one.

Bottom line, Nosy loves Fay, although I'm the one who does all the things for him that need doing.  I'll fall back on what an old boyfriend said to me many years ago when I questioned his alleged love for me.  He said "Love is".

  




  

 





  






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Wednesday, October 13, 2021

Chapter 18 of My Imaginary Dog

 We made our way back to Honey's Donuts.

"Before we go in," said Bear  "What name did you choose for your heroine?  I don't suppose you want to continue with Bertha."

"Definitely not Bertha, Bear.  I don't particularly like that name.  I already told you that."   I thought a moment and then said, "Abby, that's what I'll call her.  It's short, easy to remember, and cuter than Bertha." 

"Hm," said Bear.  "It's OK, I guess, and it is your book.  Let the book begin!"

I stopped to think and then I began.  "Well Bear, Harlequin #2 is my attempt to write something more in line with Harlequin Presents.  You know, the ones that have more explicit sex scenes, unlike those doctor and nurse stories.  Not that doctors and nurses didn't have explicit sex but it just wasn't in those early books I read."

"This could be interesting, Bum, but bear in mind the trouble you were having describing blow jobs.  I don't know if you're up for it.  That's all I'm saying."

"I finished writing up my Harlequin #2 story.  It seemed pretty long before I got to the point," I said.

You do tend to run on a bit," said Bear.

"So," I continued, "I decided to prekiss it."

"What does that mean?" asked Bear.

"Prekiss means to summarize events.  Some people pronounce it praysee.  It's spelled p-r-e-c-i-s."

"It seems to be the perfect word, Bum.  Why are you mocking it?"

"It seems a bit pretentious to me, Bear, but I'm a plain-speaking person, as you know."

"I don't know about that, Bum.  You often use big words when a little word would do.  Prekiss away."


Without preamble, I began. 


After a devastating and incapacitating accident which involved being knocked down by a cyclist and looked after by her aunt during her recuperation, the ministrations of her aunt were claustrophobic and Abby, the heroine, was rescued by the unexpected inheritance of a house in Deep Cove.

Beaten down by the recent incapacitation due to the accident, thin and out of shape, Abby decides to strengthen herself through walking  Her walks take her to a popular restaurant in Deep Cove village which particularly specializes in donuts.  She meets her hero whose name she learns is Daniel and his woman companion at the check-out at Honey's Donut Shop.

A conversation ensues about Abby's coat and the hero's suggestion that his companion give her expensive coat to Abby in exchange for the companion's purchase of Abby's coat which she admires and desires.

There is an exchange of words about Abby's appearance and the hero's interest.


"So, what do you think, Bear?  Is this a good idea for Harlequin #2?"  I tried to keep the anxiety out of my voice and Bear, standing there, looked somewhat astonished.  I hadn't realized how important it was for me to have Bear's approval.

Bear made me wait.  He can be like that.

"Not bad, Bum, but how will Abby meet the hero again?  He doesn't know her name, nor where she lives, and all Abby knows is that his first name is Daniel.  You'll have to get pretty creative to bring those two together."

"I thought of something.  They meet at my favourite store, The Great Canadian Superstore, and meet again at my favourite Donut Shop, Honey's."

"Tell me more, Bum.  I've never been to Superstore.  Why did you never take me there?"

"You don't belong there, that's why, and it no longer matters.  I have decided to dump Harlequin #2 from our book, Bear.  It doesn't belong either" said Bum.

"So you're giving up your dream, Bum?"

"No."  I paused for effect.  "I wrote Harlequin #2 down, and I have it at hand, and that's enough."

"I thought you wanted to write a Harlequin and have it published for posterity," said Bear.

"No, Bear, I don't need that, posterity I mean.  It was the doing of it that was important, and I've done it, and I'm done."

"I guess you couldn't handle the sex scenes," said Bear with what he thought was finality.

"I nailed the sex scenes, if you must know, yee of so little faith."

"Have you had a lot of sex, Bum? asked Bear.

"Not really, but I do read a lot.








Friday, June 18, 2021

OH GOD

 OH GOD, by Jackie Lloyd


Oh God, we let you down.

You gave us life

And the greatest gift of all

You gave us procreation.

You gave us trees

And bees and water

And sky and land with so much beauty.


We let you down God.

Priests harmed young indigenous children,

A madman ran over a Muslim family.

Another man killed an indigenous woman

With a trailer hitch on a road, and because he could.

Oh, God, we let you down.


I too have fallen from divine favor

And want the death penalty back.

I want those crazed people

Put down like you would a mad dog. 

Oh God, I let you down.






Thursday, May 6, 2021

DEAR PAT AND STEVE

 "Good morning, Bear.  How's it going?" asked Bum.

"I wish you wouldn't use that 'How's it going?' comment from Andy Sipowicz of that old NYPD TV show.  It's so cliche."

"I like cliches, so there," said Bum.

"I'm just saying." said Bear.  "That's a line from another old TV show, the name which I cannot remember."

"That's enough of that TV speak.  Let's get back to my Dear Pat and Steve story." said Bum.

"Patsy's dead, right?"

"Yes," said Bum.

"Steve isn't, obviously," said Bear 

"What can I say, Bear, when your time is up, you go."

"No, Bum. when your time is up, I go." 

"I'll say it again, what can I say, Bear?  We are one, and don't ask me again how I'm feeling."

"My master's wife mentioned today that Prince Philip had died.  That's sad, eh?"

"Yes, but he was 99.  The Queen will miss him.  He was her friend, her lover, her confidant, and so much fun."

"Fun is hard to come by these days," said Bear.  "Best to get on with your Dear Pat and Steve post."

"OK, Bear.  I started to write to Steve after Patsy died.  In one of my letters to him I mentioned that it was too bad I didn't have copies of the letters I sent to them.  Soon after, Steve sent me the one thing he had left of Patsy's stuff, a note from me dated August 31, 2007, which started Dear Pat and Steve, and here follows the words I wrote way back then.  Enjoy... I hope."

Dear Pat and Steve,

A whole month has gone by since I retired from ICBC.  I thought I'd share the experience with you in case you want to try it Patsy.

The first couple of weeks, I did nothing, like I do when I'm on vacation.  Then, creativity struck and I made a big Thank You card to send to my friends at ICBC.  That took a couple of hours & then a couple of weeks to find the words to thank them for their good wishes and gifts.  All done now.

Next, I followed Susan's example and started Power Walks in the morning.  I'm up to 4 walks per week.  I love it.  30 minute Power Walks I can handle.  Not much power yet and sometimes the 30 minutes is a stretch.  I've tried walking 2 different directions and they are both uphill because we are at the foot of Seymour Mountain.  I've pretty much settled this past week on the walk to the left up to Dollarton highway which leads to the Cove Village if you turn right on Dollarton.  I walk as far as the blue church, a small Anglican church painted blue.  Outside near the front door sits a small iron table and 2 chairs.  Sometimes I sit at the table for 2 and write a few lines like these.  It adds to my 30 minute walk and makes me think I'm improving.  I may attend the church someday to see its inside. 

I've made painting the front and back stairs a project.  I've almost finished the back stairs and it was hell.  Cleaning, sweeping, cleaning with TSP, cleaning with clean water, more sweeping, sanding, more sweeping and then finally the painting.  They look great.  The front is bigger and I'm halfway through the sanding.  I'll hold off on the painting until Chella and her new boyfriend come for dinner.  They've been threatening to come for a couple of weeks but this Wednesday has been confirmed.  He cooks so that adds to the stress.  I'll do my lasagna which is pretty safe and Frances will do her Caesar Salad which is excellent and hardly ever done.  I have an old blueberry cake someone made for me at work so that should be it for the dessert.  The cake's old now, a retirement gift, but I froze it so it should be fine.  Not my fault, if it's no good.  If they like it, I'll take the credit. 

A friend from work invited me for lunch the end of August  It was one of the retirement lunches I managed to avoid while still working.  My choice of restaurant she said so I chose the expensive Gusto near ICBC.  It was great.  Good food and a lot of good talk.  She invited a mutual friend and it was great fun.  Someone else from work owes me a lunch so perhaps I can Gusto again next month.

Frances and I have been bereft during the PNE because we don't go to the races during that 3 week period.  It's over now and we'll be back at the Track on September 8th.  Yahoo!!

My friends at ICBC gave me $100.00 to bet at the Track.  They know what I like for a goodbye gift.  I was down to about $5.00 when I won almost $300.00.  Too bad the PNE started when my luck had changed.  Anyway, we can't wait to get back to the races.

After the stairs are finished, my next project is the old furniture in the garage.  There are 2 beds, a dresser, a vanity and a stool.  They need to be refinished.  I think we're talking the end of 2007 for those babies.

Or, I could get my collapsible bike pumped up and ready to ride.  I need a helmet because it's the law.  I was walking uphill from Lower Lonsdale near by favourite bakery one day.  I'd parked the car a few blocks up like I did when I was working because it's free.  To rest my weary legs, I turned into a Sports Shop to check out bike helmets.  There was an old guy slumped over the cash register.  No customers in sight.  "I'm looking for a bike helmet" I said in my usual voice which I've been told borders on loud.  "What?" he yelled.  "A bike helmet" I said again, increasing the volume a bit.  "I need a large one because I have a big head" I said.  "What?" he said.  "I have a big head" I repeated in a louder voice.  "For you?" he said.  "Yes" I said.  "I have one" he said, "but it's a medium".  "May I try it on?" I asked.  He crippled to his feet and staggered down an aisle with me behind him.  I tried it on and it perched on my head in a ridiculous fashion.  "Will you be getting more helmets?" I asked.  "No, I don't sell bicycle helmets" he said, "but this one is only $20.00."  I said "No" and left the shop.  I may break the law and ride without a helmet after that fiasco.  I was past his shop the other day and again he was slumped over the cash register.  He was either asleep or dead but I walked on.  

I'm off to the chiropractor and will include my Power Walk walking to and from the office.  I finally remembered to buy stamps so I'll finish this and get it posted today.

Our weather is nice this week at low 20's but a bit cool in the morning which is good for my walks.  

I hope you both are well and kicking back and enjoying yourselves.  Take care and write Frances and I a letter.  It's the highlight of the day when we get mail.  A friend of mine is going to Australia for 6 months soon to help relatives with their bad children.   Perhaps I can talk her into writing to me.  She's a saint, offering to help her sister-in-law with 3 young children.  The one boy has some behavioral problems and that's why they need help  I couldn't do it.  The most stressful thing I ever want to do now is paint some stairs or make a miniature doll, or bear proof the garbage.

Anyway, be happy you guys and see you when we see you.

Love  Jackie

"That's a lot of information in that wee letter, Bum." said Bear.  "I particularly like the old geezer at the Sports Shop who spends his working days slumped over his cash register."

"You could say he's an unforgettable character," agreed Bum.

"Unforgettable characters are needed in any good book," said Bear.

"You are correct as usual my dear Bear.  I met a character today but I don't want that young man in my book or indeed in any book.  He is best forgotten and I hope he gets some help."

"What did he do or say, Bum?" asked Bear, looking puzzled.

"I was on my way to the dentist for my 11:30 appointment in that big pink building downtown on Dunsmuir Street.  Coming towards me, in an erratic manner, was the young man I mentioned.  He stopped suddenly, yelled Shit Fuck into my face, and then staggered on, again moving erratically."

"Were you frightened Bum?" asked Bear.

"No, for some reason I was not.  Ill people don't frighten me, I guess."

"You know, Bum, this is not a very good ending for this post about Pat and Steve.  The old guy slumped over his cash register must be dead by now, and that young erratic fellow cursing into your face, is very disturbing."

"I did get some good news yesterday, Bear.  Paul emailed me and said that he's been kind of on vacation for sometime now but is ready to get back to our book.  Good news, eh?  I'll let you have the last word."

"Finally" said Bear.


  

  








 












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Tuesday, April 6, 2021

HELLO DOLLY

 "Let's walk and talk today, Bum.  I've missed that."

"Me too, Bear.  I don't walk much anymore, just around the car in the carport a number of times in the morning when I take out the garbage," admitted Bum.

"That sounds pretty dull Bum.  What's the problem?  Is it your back?" asked Bear.

"Indirectly," said Bum.

"What does that mean?  Is it your back or not?"  Bear sounded exasperated.

"You know I have that sciatic nerve problem in my back?"

"Yes," said Bear.

"Well, it affected my legs."

"In what way did it affect your legs?" asked Bear.

"As Mom said about her own lack of walking, her legs just didn't work.  Mine are the same."

"Did you see your doctor?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"Walk more."

"Let's go then.  We can walk down to Gordon's, just like we did so many times when he was your boyfriend."

"Gordon's gone and so is his garden, Bear.  His daughter tore the little gray flat-roofed house down, changed his garden to a pristine and boring lawn, and pretty well destroyed Gordon's legacy.  The only thing left standing is his beautiful willow tree near the street.  I tied the biggest red Christmas bow on one of its branches just before Christmas, in his memory."

"It's a good thing no one can tear down our memories, isn't it Bum?"

"Indeed." 

Bear and Bum walked slowly up the driveway to the road where they stopped to watch for traffic coming up the blind hill to the left.

Bear spoke first.

"What happened to that red bicycle you bought at the Church Thrift for 5 bucks?  I thought you were going to take up cycling because of your difficulty walking."

"What can I say?  It didn't work out so I got rid of it," said Bum and paused before saying, "I parked it up here near the street with a big FREE sign on it.  It was gone within a day."

"What was the problem, Bum?  Don't you know how to ride a bike?"

"Oh, I know how to ride a bike, Bear.  It was getting off the bike that brought me down, and I mean that literally."

"Do you mean you couldn't dismount?" said Bear in a disbelieving tone.

"Correct.  I could not swing my leg over that rod thing which goes from the back of the bike up to beneath the handlebars."

"Do you mean the frame?"

"Yes, and I could not swing my leg over it so my only option was to head to that tree outside and lean into it.  Of course, I and the bike fell over in a heap.  That's when I decided that cycling was not for me."

"Good grief, Bum.  You could've hurt yourself.  Did you?"

"No."

"That's too bad, Bum, that your foray into biking didn't work out.  It looked like a very nice bike."

"It was nice looking alright and I checked it out online to see what was said about it.  There was a bike that looked very much like it and the same make and they wanted $1,000 for it."

"Why didn't you try to sell it, Bum.  That would've been a nice return on your five bucks."

"I couldn't be bothered, Bear.  I would've had to go out, crouch down and try to find the serial number.  As I said, I couldn't be bothered.  I hope it is that good bike and that the person who picked it up Free will have some good rides on it."

"You're a good person, Bum; a bit wacky but good.  Now, how about your Big doll?  You titled this blog Hello Dolly so I kind of reckoned it would be about that."

"I think I already told you that the Big doll is almost finished, except for the head which is bit of a problem."

"Why's that?" asked Bear.

"I haven't figured out how to keep the head upright.  It wants to fall to the side.  I tried stuffing it more loosely but that didn't work.  It needs something stiff for its neck, I guess, but so far I cannot come up with anything that works."

"That's a problem OK Bum.  Perhaps one of those medical collars people use when they hurt their neck and need support would do the trick.  What do you say to that?"

"I say I don't want my Big doll to look like it has a sore neck because I don't have one." said Bum.  "It's a replica for God's sake."

"What about your bad back.  Is that going to be part of your Big doll?"

"The doll won't be standing, Bear, so who will know?"

"True," said Bear.  "Your disability is hidden, not like a crippled person with a replica doll, or a fat person."

"Get real, Bear.  A crippled person or a fat person will not want a replica doll."

"You don't know that. Bum.  You are neither crippled, or not much, nor fat.  Remember the ugly cabbage patch dolls?  No one guessed how popular they would be."

"I guess you're right, you usually are, as you always tell me," muttered Bum.

Bear ignored that slightly snappish reply and said "It must look funny in your room with your desk sporting the doll's head you're working on, as well as the two ears, a nose, and the ruby red lips."

"No," said Bum.

"What do you mean, No?" asked Bear.

"My BIG doll's head is not on my desk.  It is attached to the doll."

"How can that be, Bum?  You said you were having trouble attaching the head to the doll because it would not stand upright."

"To understand the head problem, you need to know how the doll was constructed, Bear."

"Let's have it then, Bum.  I already know you're using a big jumbo pillow from Superstore for the body."

"I only wear socks now," said Bum, for no apparent reason.

"What's that got to do with anything, Bum?" asked Bear. 

"Before socks, I wore those thick black tights under pants and skirts.  I found a bag of them in my room when I was into my downsizing mode.  Good for the Thrift, I thought, but then inspiration hit.  I used those tights for the legs and arms for my Big doll.  I stuffed them and attached them top and bottom to the big pillow." 

"That was actually pretty clever, Bum, but..."

"There's no but about it, Bear."

"As we both know, your arms are on the short side and would exceed the length of those black tights."

"I hate to say you're wrong, Bear, but you are."

"Like your mother, I am never wrong, or at least don't admit it," muttered Bear.

"Never mind all that.  I acknowledge my arms are on the short side, and I prefer it not be mentioned all the time, but they do hang down as far as my crotch."

"I don't like that word crotch, Bum.  It seems very low-class in my opinion."

"Would you prefer private parts?"

"No."

"I suppose I could just give you the length of my arms in inches but that negates what I am trying to say about using those dark tights for my arms.  I know," said Bum, after a slight pause, "I'll say my arms reach the top of my legs, i.e. just before my crotch, or groin, if you prefer."

"Groin is not much better than crotch, in my humble opinion, Bum."

"OK then, Bear.  Let's go with the more delicate statement that my arms reach the top of my legs.  I stuffed one leg of the black tights into the other leg, stuffed it with a number of scarves I purchased at the Thrift, and then attached the leg, which was all that was left, to the top of the pillow at shoulder level.  Voila, a pretty good looking arm.  I did the same with another pair of tights for the second arm.  I was armed and ready for the legs."

"It's pretty obvious how you do the legs, Bum," said Bear.

"That is true, my friend Bear, but it is the idea that was not so obvious," retorted Bum.

"Ideas are never obvious, Bum.  That's what makes them so special.  So presumably you stuffed those black tights to make them into legs.  What did you use?" asked Bear.

"I used a number of balls of wool I got at the Thrift for the feet.  That worked quite well.  Then, I used a lot of scarves, again which I got from the Thrift, and they filled up the legs nicely."

"The Thrift must wonder why you need so many scarves, Bum.  Did they ask?" asked Bear.

"No," said Bum.  "The Thrift asks no questions.  For instance, they didn't question a man's purchase of a giant banana-shaped thing, but I did, at least in my thoughts."

"You, dear Bum, always look for the bad in people, no doubt you're thinking this is a sexual thing.  There could be a pretty mundane reason why that man purchased a large banana-shaped item."  

"And what would that be?" asked Bum.

"There could be a number of uses," said Bear, prevaricating if I know him.

"Name one," said Bum, wanting to put him on the spot for a change.

Bear paused in reflection and then said "backscratcher".

"I bow to your quick and inventive thinking, Bear," said Bum with a grin.

"Noted," said Bear with a bit of a smirk.  "Let's get back to your Big doll.  You said you were having trouble with the head."

"To understand the head problem, Bear, you need to know how I used a skin-colored hoody pulled over the top half of the pillow, pulled the arms out, and there you go, the hood was going to be my head."

"Is the hood as big as your head, Bum?"

"Yes, I tried it on in the store and the hood almost enclosed my head."

"Is almost enough, Bum?"

"It'll do, Bear.  I have two curly brown wigs and that will make up the difference."

"That's a lot of hair, Bum, even for you." said Bear.

"A funny thing happened to me about the wigs, Bear.  I tried one on for my morning walk and when I passed another walker she said 'I wish I could get my hair to curl like that'.  Me too, I thought."

"Very amusing, Bum.  Please continue with the head problem."

"OK, I've got the hoody on the doll and then I twist the head around and around with the intention of securing it with some of the material I cut off the hoody's arms, so it will look sort of like a flesh colored neck.  But, when I stuffed the hood it wouldn't stay upright.  Therein is my problem."

"So what now, Bum?" asked Bear.

"I tried stuffing the neck and that helped a bit.  My next plan is to use a rather expensive black turtle neck sweater I purchased at a real store.  The neck was so tight I could hardly get it over my head.  Rather than go to the inconvenience of returning it to The Bay, I decided to let my Big doll wear it."

"Presumably you did not try it on in the store, Bum.  Why did you buy such a small size?"

"It was extra large, if you must know, Bear," said Bum.

"Extra large what?" asked Bear in that disparaging tone he uses too often.

"I'm just saying, Bear.  I will try to find something suitable to place around the neck, something soft would be good, and then I'll add the tight necked black turtle shirt and hope for the best."

"If that doesn't work, what will you do, Bum?" asked Bear.

"I suppose some kind of stick or pole from the body up to the head is a possibility, although I am trying to avoid that if I can," said Bum.

"Where do you keep your Big doll while you're working on it, Bum?  It must be pretty unwieldy in your small room."

"It lies at the bottom of my bed, Bear, with the head hanging towards me where I sit at my desk."

"There's a name for a person who sleeps with a big life-size doll like yours, Bum."

"Dollmaker?" asked Bum.







 








 




  












 




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Thursday, January 28, 2021

FINAL THOUGHTS

 "Good morning, Bum.  I don't like the title.  It sounds like we are croaking--- and soon."

"No one knows how long they have on this earthly plane.  Your last minute could be today, or tomorrow, or next week, or years in the future.  The only thing I know for sure is that when I go, you go, amigo."

"Enough with the rhyming, Bum.  I suppose I will be subjected to that stuff, page by page of that book you're reading because Paul has a book for everything."

"Paul reminds me of  that old TV show back in the day where the character, a detective as I recall,  always said book 'em Dano."

"How much of that book have you read Bum?"

"About two pages so far Bear."

"That's not enough to bore me with, and that's a good thing."

"It may bore you, dear Bear, but after I read a bit on page 2 of that book about letting your thoughts run free, I drafted another poem, one for Paul because it's his birthday."

"That's great, Bum.  My apologies for knocking the book.  If it can inspire you, it can't be all bad.  Will you read Paul's poem to me?" 

"Sure, here it is."



Here's to you Paul

You seem to have it all.

You were lucky to win

A wife called Kim.

She's the cutest little trick

And you were smart to pick

Her for your wife.

You have a good life.


Writing is something that makes you happy

Your essays, your stories, your books are not yappy

They're clear and concise

And never never say things twice.


So here's to you Paul

You have it all.



"I like it Bum.  He's a lucky guy.  What did he think of it?"

"I haven't heard from Paul about either my birthday wishes or my poem."

"As we know, he's slow," said Bear, and then added, "Now I'm starting to rhyme."

"We'd best get on with Paul's Final Thoughts in his analysis of our story.   I'll be glad when that's over so I can file it in my complete file."

"What's your complete file, Bum?"

"I have a red binder to store my completed chapters, i.e. the ones that have been edited.  So, I thought I'd file Paul's Analysis Report in that binder when it's complete."

"Sounds sensible," said Bear.  "What were his Final Thoughts?"

"He said, and I quote....

You talk about your sadness at losing contact with your characters Bear and Gordon, but you know, I don't think you necessarily have to lose contact with them.  This is not an idea that necessarily has to come to an end.

One thought is that you could continue on with the Janey--Bear relationship in, say, a weekly blog.  That's the kind of thing that could attract a following.

Another thought is that the story could continue on in further books.  You would need to find new things for the stories to be about, but if you could do that, then you would be able to go on.  One idea might be to have Bear introduce a puppy, and then, if Bear kicks the bucket, you could continue on with the new puppy character.

You may not want to do any of these things, but they are possibilities if you did want to carry on with these characters."

"We've got our blog, Bum, so that part's OK.  I enjoy it very much. as you do.  However, all that crap about a puppy and yours truly kicking the bucket, I do not like."

"I knew you wouldn't.  I was almost afraid to read it to you."

"I'm glad we've finished analyzing Paul's Analysis and we can move on to more interesting subjects, Bum."

"I'm glad too, Bear, and it has been fun.  Before we leave it, I would like to tell you that you will always be with me in my heart and in my spirit.  You are my very best friend."

"Thank you Bum.  Ditto."

"The next time we meet Bear, I will tell you all about my BIG doll.  So far, I have finished two hands, not attached yet, that are lying at the end of my bed.  On my desk, I have the fixings for a couple of ears, ruby red lips, and a nose.  I told my sister the other day that anyone looking at this stuff in my room might think I'm a bit of a flake."

"What did she say to that, Bum?"

" She said, what do you mean a bit?"

 

 



 

  










  











 

Thursday, January 21, 2021

2021 HERE I COME

"I am going to make it through this year if it kills me," started Bum.

 "That's a pretty depressing start to the new year Bum," said Bear and included a frown to show his displeasure.  "Where do you come up with this stuff?"

"It's a song I heard on the radio about a week ago.  I liked it."

"Why?" asked Bear. 

"It appealed to me after that fucking 2020 and the fucking pandemic."

"You know I don't like cursing, so I won't say it again.  So, did the song have any redeeming qualities?"

"Not really," said Bum.  "One line was, I played video games in a drunken haze, and some other bits about drinking scotch with my girlfriend Cathy."

"How about the tune, was that any better?" asked Bear. 

"I can't remember the tune," said Bum.

 "Sheesh," said Bear, "who wrote that crap?"

"I don't know who wrote it Bear.  It was sung by an American group called The Mountain Goats."

"Let's move on Bum.  We must have more interesting things to talk about.  What have you been doing with yourself these days?"

"First tell me what you've been doing Bear.  It may inspire me."

"My master is stuck in the States and his wife is pretty grim because she's in lockdown in the house, alone, and no one to talk to but me.  She's not a dog person so you know how that's going.  When she opens the door to let me out, because she has to, she says get lost so you get the picture."

"Where are the children?  They always liked you."

"They grew up, moved out, and now live elsewhere.  It annoys her that they cannot visit because of the pandemic and it annoys her even more that I've all she's got.  The children think she's lucky to have my company but, although she doesn't tell them that, she doesn't feel lucky at all."

"That sounds pretty grim, Bear.  I'm glad we can meet occasionally."

 "Yes, that saves me, Bum, from utter despair.  Dogs get lonely too, you know."

"I know, Bear.  All living creatures can get lonely.  People sometimes forget that."

"Back to you Bum.  What have you been doing?"

"I started making a doll, almost a year ago." said Bum.

"What's taking so long?  Those miniature caricature dolls you make should be a breeze for you.  You made enough of them for people, five of them from my recollection."  Bear looked puzzled.

"I'm making a big doll this time and that's why it's taking longer."

"How big?" asked Bear.

"So big it will be able to wear my clothes." said Bum with a smirk.

"That's big, Bum." said Bear.  "You are such an extremist, aren't you?"

"I prefer to think of myself as a fun person."

"I bet you do," said Bear in that disapproving tone he uses too often.

"Never mind that Bear.  The big doll is coming along nicely.  It's pretty much done except for the head." 

"Why's that?  I would think getting the big body, arms and legs, would be the hardest parts.  Presumably, you needed a lot of stuffing for that big doll, particularly the body.  You have a somewhat long body as you and I well know."

"I got all the stuffing I needed from the Church Thrift, and cheap."

"That's a lot of stuffing, Bum.  What did you stuff for the body, a coat?"

"Very funny Bear. If you must know, and I know you do, I used a jumbo pillow which I purchased from Superstore for five bucks.   I had noticed one night when I was getting into bed that my pillow was the same size as my body.  Voila, an idea was formed."

"Very clever, Bum.   If I know you, and I do, I bet that five bucks was the biggest price you paid for all the doll parts."

"So true, Bear, so true," admitted Bum.

"What was the cheapest thing you found at the Thrift?"

"That would be 25 cents for a box of red Christmas bows.  They were edged with gold, with gold ties hanging down that could be squeezed around things like branches."

"That's pretty cheap alright, Bum.  Did you use them to decorate your Christmas tree?"

"We don't have a tree inside.  No one is coming so what would be the point.  Big F and I don't care."

"So why did you buy a box of red Christmas bows?"

"I planned to use one of the big bows for lips for my big doll.  I needed ruby red lips and thought the Christmas bow would do the trick, and it did."

"I guess you had to return the rest of the bows to the Church so someone else could use them for Christmas." said Bear.

"By now it was too close to Christmas so I was stuck with them."

"You can keep the box of bows for next Christmas, if you live that long."

"Always the optimist, Bear, always the optimist."

"I prefer to think of myself as practical Bum." 

"Practical is all very well.  I prefer to be creative so I decided to decorate the neighbourhood.  On my morning walks for the three days before Christmas, I attached those bows to bushes and trees nearby and they looked very nice and jaunty, if I do say so myself."

"I'm impressed Bum," said Bear.  "What a nice surprise for walkers at Christmas."

"I decided to try my hand at poetry, something I never was interested in, or good at I thought.  I mentioned it to Paul and of course he sent me a book called The Complete Rhyming Dictionary by Clement Wood.  It is the essential handbook for songwriters, poets, students, teachers, speechmakers, and members of the performing arts. "

"Don't you have enough to do, Bum, without adding poetry to the equation?  You've got that big doll you're working on, our book which is awaiting editing, and that second book you started which I believe you called Witless because that's what you are now."

"Never mind all that, Bear.  Do you want to hear my first poem or not?"

"Lay it on me."


MY CHRISTMAS POEM (that's what I called it)


A red Christmas bow on a bush is a beautiful sight

It smiles each morning but it's gone at night,

My Christmas is lonely

Just Fran and me only.

I wish I had a quiver to ride the arrow of change that's coming.


2021 is near, 

I think I'll have a beer.

Let's toast a new beginning,

The putrid pandemic cannot be winning.

I wish I had a quiver.



"OK, Bear, what do you think for my first effort?"

"It's pretty good, Bum, but I smell a touch of plagiarism here."

"Whatever do you mean, Bear?"

"You probably heard that famous song, I wish I was a river. on the radio.  I'm not saying you lifted it on purpose, but..."

"Who cares.  No one is going to read my poem.  They can't even find my blog."

"You don't know that.  What if your poem goes viral?"

"Fat chance."

"If it does, that I wish I was a river singer may disagree and come after you. "What do you say to that?"

"I say, sue me.  God knows, I have nothing else to do." 













 





 


 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

  

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 


Thursday, January 7, 2021

IN MEMORY OF BILL STOCKMANN, by Frances Vitols

On December 6, 2020 I lost a friend of forty plus years to a fatal heart attack after a serious urgent surgery for an aortic aneurysm.  He is gone from the earth plane but he will never be gone from my heart or my mind.

Bill would be the last person on earth to admit to or even acknowledge the fact that he was a completely unique and special person.  In a way, he was always a little under cover.  Few people really knew him well and I am privileged to feel that he allowed me to see those qualities that made him special.

He was brave and adventurous--travelled the world to far-flung places, often alone, and enjoyed the history, the people, the weather, all of it.  And he never flaunted these amazing experiences, just as he down-played his many talents.  When he walked out of a corporate job with security written all over it to attend art school in Alberta, he took a step that many in their lifetimes would fear to do.  While there, he lived in very simple, cheap accommodations, found jobs to support his basic needs while he laid the groundwork for a life-long dream, art in all its forms.

When you see the world through the eyes of an artist, the world takes on a very different form.  Whether he plied his trade with graphic art, large oil landscapes or through the lens of a camera, he captured his real love of the earth, nature, and all living creatures on land, in the air and beneath the sea.

No description of Bill would be complete without inserting something about his completely zany, off the wall actions.  On the days when Bill, my sister, Jackie, and I met in the Library Bar of the Hyatt Hotel, he announced on arrival one evening after work that he had been walking through Holt Renfrew  and saw the most magnificent outdoor jacket he had ever seen at a price that was almost too much to even mention.  The only flaw was that this jacket could not be washed or dry cleaned.  Did that deter Bill?  No, he got it. 

On another occasion when Bill and I were discussing the everyday tasks of life, the subject of laundry came up and in particular, fitted sheets.  I bemoaned the difficulty of folding them and Bill's response was, "too damn complicated--I just threw all of mine out."

One of a kind for sure, and I will miss him forever, more than words can say.

Needless to say, I miss him very much even though, for the past years, we have mostly been in touch by mail.  However, as a writer that is a medium I have taken great pleasure in and I have all his letters on e-mail and snail mail over many years.  You, Rita, were his favourite person in the world and I like to think his soul is nearby and comforted by the fact that the people closest to him will love and miss him forever.


  

 

 

 

 

Saturday, January 2, 2021

RECOMMENDATIONS

"Good morning, Bear .  How's it going?" asked Bum.

"It hasn't been going, Bum, as you well know," said Bear and he looked very annoyed.

"Whatever do you mean, Bear?"

"Where have you been?" asked Bear and he still looks annoyed.

"I am so sorry, Bear, to have left you by yourself for such a long time," said Bum.

"Sorry doesn't cut it Bum.  If you wanted to dump me, why didn't you just come out with it?"

"I don't dump my friends Bear.  I had my reasons for not being in touch."

"Let's hear them" said Bear.

"The last time we spoke was the end of June.  It was then I realized that the fucking pandemic was not gearing down but rather up."

"So?" questioned Bear.

"I contracted the fucking pandemic fatigue and depression.  At first, I didn't realize what my fucking problem was.  I was always fucking tired and only had the fucking strength to watch fucking TV, even during the fucking day."

 "Hold it right there Bum.  Do you realize that you have used that fucking word six times in that last rant?" said Bear in a very disapproving tone.

"I apologize Bear.  I know just how much you disapprove of needless cursing.  But, and I know you don't like sentences that start with but, I find myself cursing a lot since I got older and the fucking pandemic didn't help.  So there!"

 "That's not much of a fucking apology Bum, if you don't mind my saying so." 

"My apologies again, dear Bear.  Let's change the subject before we deteriorate any further."

"What do you mean, we?" muttered Bear.

"That's the Royal we Bear," said Bum.

 "We are not Royal, Bum  You are certainly not the Queen and I'm no bloody Prince Phillip." responded Bear.  

"It's only a common phrase, Bear.  It's nothing to get uptight about," said Bum, looking exasperated.

"Common is right, Bum, and not one I like.  Let's go over Recommendations from Paul's Analysis Report before we forget what we're meeting for."

"OK, Paul said taking the "middle path" would involve some effort to whip the story into shape, but the result will be a more complete and, hopefully, more salable book.  On the other hand, you may not want to put that much work into it.  You may be looking just to clean it up, put a cover on it, and send it out there.  If so, that's fair enough: you're the author and the publisher.  Only you know how much effort you're willing to put into it, and you should  be realistic about that."

"Wait just a minute, Bum.  We've already covered that "middle path" stuff.  Wasn't that explained earlier under the heading Possible Strategies?"

"Wow, Bear, your memory is better than mine.  I am impressed."  Bum clapped her admiration.  

"Never mind all that crap, Bum.  Did Paul have anything else to say?"

He said he can help with getting the book polished and formatted into e-book files.  He can also probably help with arranging the cover art (there are fairly low-cost online service providers for things like this), and also help with the actual publishing process, sending the book through Amazon and Smashwords.

Bear thought a moment, digesting this information I suppose, before saying, "I prefer a real book."

"Me too," said Bum. 

"Did you let Paul know that you did not want an e-book for our book?" asked Bear.

"No."

"Why not?" asked Bear, and he looked puzzled.

"I don't know."

 "Why not?"

"I don't want to hurt his feelings, if I can avoid that.  Paul has worked hard at organizing an e-book publication and all the bits and pieces needed to make it work." said Bum. 

"He'll get over it," said Bear.

"That's a very hurtful thing to say, Bear, and totally not like you."

"He'll get over it," repeated Bear. 

"Saying it twice doesn't make it more acceptable, Bear," admonished Bum.

"There are three of us involved here Bum.  There's you who would be hurt by an e-book, there's me who would be hurt too because you know I want a real book.  And then there's Paul who you think might be hurt.  Two out of three wins, I say.  What's he got to be hurt about?  It's not his book, he's only the editor."

"OK, Bear.  I'll tell him," said Bum, giving in without much of a fight. 

"Good," said Bear.  "Where were we with this Recommendations stuff that Paul wrote?"

"He said the cover art will cost money, but maybe not much, and that I might be able to get something decent for $100 or so, maybe less."

"We've got our pictures front and back that your niece Mara drew, and very nice they are too, although my picture could've been bigger."

"I told you in an earlier blog post Bear, that my picture has to be bigger.  How can you, a dog, be bigger than I, or should that be me?"

"Who cares?  I know it's you, and OK, I get it," said Bear.  "What else did Paul say under his Recommendations?  He tends to run on a bit doesn't he?"

"I don't call analyzing all aspects of publishing a book as running on a bit," said Bum disapprovingly. 

"I'm sorry, if you're reading this post Paul.  Now Bum, what else did he say about Recommendations?"

"He said that promoting the book will also involve expense and effort, but as for how much, that's up to me  It's considered normal and essential for an author to have a website, for instance.  That will take some effort by somebody.  He said he found an interesting website called itch.io that functions as a kind of online mall for creators, through which one can sell one's works.  We could maybe set up a simple storefront there, and the site enables you to sell digital copies of your work, using an online payment facility called Stripe.  He plans to set up a storefront there himself, so he might be able to pioneer the way and then, if it seems to work well, get one set up for me too.  You probably don't have to pay anything to set up there.  They probably take a percentage of any sales." 

"This is useless information, Bum, since we are not going digital with our book, wouldn't you agree?" said Bear.

"Yes," said Bum. 

"Is that it with Paul's recommendations?"

"No,"said Bum, "there's more.  He said there are things like review services, which cost money.  By paying a certain amount, you can get a certain number of reviews for your book posted to Goodreads or to Amazon."

"That's all very good, Bum, but, sitnce Paul continues to lag on the editing of our book, a review package is the last thing we need," muttered Bear. 

"Noted, oh grumpy one.  The last thing Paul said was that the most important promotional tool is the online mailing list.  This is a list that you build up and to whom you send occasional messages.  This is a long process, and does require a website--a place where people can sign up.  This list becomes your core audience.  With all his efforts and fame, his own list now has 67 people on it, but if you are looking to sell books, you want to have a list with thousands of people on it.  It's a real uphill climb."

"Hold it right there, Bum.  How long has Paul had his website?  Many years I'm thinking and he only has 67 people?  Give me a break."

"Paul did say that all these things are daunting.  But then, they're not actually obligatory:  you don't have to do any of them.  It all depends on how badly you want to sell books.  You can send them out there and just leave them.  But with a thousand books being published each day, and most of them being promoted somehow or other, how is yours going to be noticed?  Book sales in general are hard to come by."

"This is my last word on Paul's Recommendations.  They are moot unless our book is out there published."

"Moot? What does that mean?" asked Bum, looking puzzled.

"Look it up.  I won't always be around to decipher this stuff."

"I'm glad this year is almost over, Bear.  Nothing good happened in December except it's almost over.  To top it off, my old friend Bill died December 6th, and the month deteriorated after that."

"Bill Stockmann?" asked Bear.

"Yes," said Bum.  "His heart failed him."

"I am so very sorry Bum, for you and your sister.  I know you three were good buddies."

"Frances wrote a lovely piece about Bill.  I'll read it to you tomorrow."    

 

 

 

 

 

 


 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

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