tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67477331471386109552024-03-14T07:17:02.039-07:00"Tall" Ted Farr 10,000 seconds is a helluva long time to hold your breathAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comBlogger106125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-73288487519961473632016-07-05T10:59:00.000-07:002016-07-05T10:59:57.722-07:00Conversations with Jonathan (71 - 80)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4yAF_PVy1LxYlnaS4IiekBbYZOvI_AijARW-nBM-TWcuPA93d9H01zfp-JNUWu2Cpw2Qi4ko8DfAVHzb-y6qpw0JcNFOlwXk9IFTbw_ReE1rkFmbEnoQTWCaDTCpBael48fZqjdlYnjot/s1600/TFM+-+new+stick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4yAF_PVy1LxYlnaS4IiekBbYZOvI_AijARW-nBM-TWcuPA93d9H01zfp-JNUWu2Cpw2Qi4ko8DfAVHzb-y6qpw0JcNFOlwXk9IFTbw_ReE1rkFmbEnoQTWCaDTCpBael48fZqjdlYnjot/s320/TFM+-+new+stick.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I began to publish Conversations with Jonathan on Facebook, toward the end of his pre-school experience. J's a talker, a bit of a smart-ass and always has that sparkle in his eye! On most days, I pick him up from school and we have a chat on the ride to Baba's. She lives on a mountain you know. He calls it Baba's mountain.<br />
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In the summer, we're out in the convertible running errands, playing sports, going to golf lessons and more. He never stops asking questions and happily offers analysis of various things in his life. He certainly is entertaining.<br />
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Here then is part eight of Conversations with Jonathan.<br />
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<b>April 24</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11te3aNKjd5CuxH5rNL3lsQt2lTuwtOAHsN_NBUeovMM03vMAqGQJXPpUTLiacTRrMH6X8QBgrZFymZSdSnBGN8GHYS0LbLwZ-HfdwN3EUEhDNtezgNVDDBjTk3uKRwHPwdv3oxaZCFat/s1600/TFM+-+playground.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11te3aNKjd5CuxH5rNL3lsQt2lTuwtOAHsN_NBUeovMM03vMAqGQJXPpUTLiacTRrMH6X8QBgrZFymZSdSnBGN8GHYS0LbLwZ-HfdwN3EUEhDNtezgNVDDBjTk3uKRwHPwdv3oxaZCFat/s320/TFM+-+playground.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>
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J: Deda, how old is my Daddy?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: I think he’s as old as dirt.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Old as dirt? How old is that?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Pretty old J.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Is he in his 50’s?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: I think he’d be pretty upset if he heard you say that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Is he in his 40’s?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Yes J, he’s in his early 40’s.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Is that like 41 or 40 a hundred?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: 41 J.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Deda, I’m in my 6’s you know.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>April 26</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Deda, can I try on my Uncle Jon’s helmet?</div>
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Me: Why do you want to do that?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Because my Uncle Jon told me to try it on. He said it
might fit me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Ok J, do you want to hold one of his sticks too?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Can I hold that one? The big one?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: You sure can.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Jonathan wearing #17's Limestone Saints helmet and carrying
a never been used Etienne Martin authentic wooden stick. It dates to the early
90's when wood sticks were the norm in box lacrosse.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>April 29</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB1VBphyphenhyphencZf1jBDrZ6cQ7kH_nFUaB1kDMwysnUyOUH5hZtYpoJ2E0fvcwLayYPE8D1AGIypIz32xpxw-ZiRCiXNh5Qw-nD8b1cE7UP-ulLAH36PORGBMv8xCchvJ6mdFp4XDyadKAi8Y5l/s1600/TFM+-+box+lacrosse+goalie2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB1VBphyphenhyphencZf1jBDrZ6cQ7kH_nFUaB1kDMwysnUyOUH5hZtYpoJ2E0fvcwLayYPE8D1AGIypIz32xpxw-ZiRCiXNh5Qw-nD8b1cE7UP-ulLAH36PORGBMv8xCchvJ6mdFp4XDyadKAi8Y5l/s320/TFM+-+box+lacrosse+goalie2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Me: So Jonathan, did you have fun at lacrosse practise?</div>
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J: I sure did. I was the goalie.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: You’re kidding! You played goal?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: I put on all the equipment and I had a big stick.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Did the other players shoot the ball at you?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: They all missed, even the older boy. I’m a good goalie.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: So you had fun?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: I looked like a Stormtrooper. It was just like Star Wars.<o:p></o:p></div>
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(The moral to this story is that nothing else matters if you
look like a Stormtrooper)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>May 4</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdS2PKwDRYuEheBSnlkCmYdqh664ivXMZIS9Mr-eWFgEAlWpimt9D4VdcbF04vAnhA01hG07AxYu4HCTDKaxQ8fo5gN1V4h6zEUADWgLcxqZ9Y9I8ZggpxOwYOuHYxxubo0TyHgBI3HQ5/s1600/TFM+-+%252317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdS2PKwDRYuEheBSnlkCmYdqh664ivXMZIS9Mr-eWFgEAlWpimt9D4VdcbF04vAnhA01hG07AxYu4HCTDKaxQ8fo5gN1V4h6zEUADWgLcxqZ9Y9I8ZggpxOwYOuHYxxubo0TyHgBI3HQ5/s320/TFM+-+%252317.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Me: Did you sleep in your lacrosse jersey?</div>
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J: I did.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Did you wear it to school too?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: I did.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: How come?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: I’m a Kelowna Kodiak and I got Uncle Jon’s number. See,
17.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: I’m happy that you’re happy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: And look, I got a stop sign too?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: What does that mean?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Don’t hit people in the back.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Very good J. Always remember that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Deda, if you do goofy stuff, do you go to jail?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>May 15</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkuFIZsb0Z_SB_LtekTcXnDUJzNiklXQrXNsfBAO0jRbFQQ_qluGN8Bb76DKsKYV9H2TJp9slpazriGWcCqYhgoKT4-5z4ZcjRrtHRMzT_QcExbpCTvWLGfx1eFMfGyh-Ly2_GXiYuOPCV/s1600/TFM+-+grape+bubble+gum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkuFIZsb0Z_SB_LtekTcXnDUJzNiklXQrXNsfBAO0jRbFQQ_qluGN8Bb76DKsKYV9H2TJp9slpazriGWcCqYhgoKT4-5z4ZcjRrtHRMzT_QcExbpCTvWLGfx1eFMfGyh-Ly2_GXiYuOPCV/s320/TFM+-+grape+bubble+gum.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Conversations with Jonathan at the grocery store</div>
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J: Deda, will you buy me treats?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: No, Baba has treats for you.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: But she only has one. I only have popscicles.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Well then, you have treats.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: But I need cookies. Can you buy me Star Wars cookies?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: No.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: How about these bars?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me. Jonathan, I said no treats.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: But these aren’t treats. These are lunch.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: So you’ll have to talk to your Mom. She’s the boss of
your treats.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: But she always says no too, only Baba let’s me have
treats. What about gum? Can you buy me grape gum?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: No.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: What about soup? I eat all my soup.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>May 21</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieWc44-K-7QAwGNj3rD5uXOgpnGaluwWPg_tRtqtnL5KlqWx4TeXJ_Ptm4SlhZ1CVbkDQTNFLaSz6ATFoVWCGV0Mz9KEupDnFqxuBVv6NKKNAJsKgyrnmcC28323xSwGrsuxTmODMaIEF4/s1600/TFM+-+%252317+-+Kodiaks3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieWc44-K-7QAwGNj3rD5uXOgpnGaluwWPg_tRtqtnL5KlqWx4TeXJ_Ptm4SlhZ1CVbkDQTNFLaSz6ATFoVWCGV0Mz9KEupDnFqxuBVv6NKKNAJsKgyrnmcC28323xSwGrsuxTmODMaIEF4/s320/TFM+-+%252317+-+Kodiaks3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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J: Deda, is someone going to sing before my lacrosse game
today?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: No J.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Does that only happen in hockey games?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Well J, sorry to have to tell you this but someone only
sings before games at the professional or elite level of sports.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: You mean like on TV?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Yes J, like on TV. But, you could sing in the car.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Deda, you so funny.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>May 27</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuAylXbL2hSm5md2hinOr65nNYOTooEjk0k84RdT8qyLni2Vkqx5Wy3SAvv-Yzv7RhkP_D16d1gcd_Yu4A-HIlIp8tpTnSlH9pbYR-QJ2y17DR7vNrpFylTparDojnFbNhfiNXh4wMyvpq/s1600/TFM+-+Little+Deuce+Coupe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuAylXbL2hSm5md2hinOr65nNYOTooEjk0k84RdT8qyLni2Vkqx5Wy3SAvv-Yzv7RhkP_D16d1gcd_Yu4A-HIlIp8tpTnSlH9pbYR-QJ2y17DR7vNrpFylTparDojnFbNhfiNXh4wMyvpq/s320/TFM+-+Little+Deuce+Coupe.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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J: Deda, you know what? I want a band at my next birthday.</div>
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Me: A band? Really?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Yes I want music.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: What band do you want?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: The Beach Boys, I like the Beach Boys.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Well that won’t happen. Hate to disappoint you but they
don’t play at little boys birthday parties.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Why? Are they old?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Yes, they’re getting old.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Are they in their 60’s?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: All their best songs were in the 60’s.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>June 12</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHyHZqAd5ZJH_5nNK9ZPIebJCPg17nk1tcjZEhclO7GlKNiFFJz4zMJnFyXjVf2rpKGwQxQQyR8Asnuz_ewWtei_Q11Z3mART5c6G4ajwnuPSh5QP6jv_fHWgw0ayagYawHDo5yjKfnSOf/s1600/TFM+-+Hugo+the+Pug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHyHZqAd5ZJH_5nNK9ZPIebJCPg17nk1tcjZEhclO7GlKNiFFJz4zMJnFyXjVf2rpKGwQxQQyR8Asnuz_ewWtei_Q11Z3mART5c6G4ajwnuPSh5QP6jv_fHWgw0ayagYawHDo5yjKfnSOf/s320/TFM+-+Hugo+the+Pug.jpg" width="294" /></a></div>
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Jonathan and his parents are dog sitting a Pug named Hugo.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Deda, guess what?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: What J? Tell me what’s going on.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: I was playing with Hugo and his pink crayon came out.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Really! Well J, I don’t think we all need to know about it, but
thanks for sharing.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Where’s Baba? I’m hungry.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>June 27</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Deda, can I tell you something?</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Sure J, what’s up?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: You know Mt. Boucherie used to be a volcano?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Who told you that?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: My mommy and it erupted a long, long time ago.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Like a really long time ago back in pre-historic times?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Yes Deda, pre-historic, you know when you were born.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: That’s really nice J.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>July 5</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I’m a rain golfer. I like the rain. That’s how my muscles
get big.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Not me buddy, it’s too cold and too wet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: You could wear a hat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: But then my hat gets wet and I don’t like it. Besides,
it’s cold this morning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: You could wear a sweater and then you won’t be cold.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: I’m what’s called a fair weather golfer J, I only play
when the weather is nice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I watched the forecast and the newsman said it’s going to
be sunny. Can I have a cookie?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Sure J because golfing should always be fun.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-61157204727572085692016-04-25T09:23:00.001-07:002016-04-25T09:28:29.030-07:00Conversations with Jonathan (61 - 70)<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I began to publish Conversations with Jonathan on Facebook, toward the end of his pre-school experience. J's a talker, a bit of a smart-ass and always has that sparkle in his eye! On most days, I pick him up from school and we have a chat on the ride to Baba's. She lives on a mountain you know. He calls it Baba's mountain.<br />
<br />
Over the summer, we look after him daily. He never stops asking questions and happily offers analysis of various things in his life. He certainly is entertaining.<br />
<br />
Here then is part seven of Conversations with Jonathan.<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><b>March 28</b></b></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
(J and his parents are moving. The bad news is the townhouse
they were leasing got sold out from under them. The good news is that the house
across the street from us came on the market and the owners liked them best.)<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s 7 AM and J stumbles out of the bedroom.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, I move across the street in two days!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: No buddy, you don’t move for another week.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Oh! I’m going back to bed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: See you later….<o:p></o:p></div>
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><b>March 30</b></b></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
(Terrie’s been under the weather with a bad case of vertigo
- ambulance, emergency ward, the whole thing. Especially the first couple of
days after the attack, she spent a lot of time resting in bed. J was
concerned.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, how’s Baba? Is she sick?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Why don’t you go check on her?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He goes down the hall to Baba’s room.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Baba, I look after you ok?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Baba: That’s nice J, thank you so much.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He proceeds to flip around, try handstands, dancing and
jumping on the spot. While entertaining, he is making Baba dizzy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Baba: You can’t be doing what you’re doing Jonathan, Baba
doesn’t feel good and all the jumping around makes it worse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Oh Baba, I’ll get you something.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He left the room, went to the kitchen and rummaged around in
his special cupboard. Then he returned to Baba’s side.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Baba, I brought you fish crackers. I hope you feel
better.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As he left the room.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: It’s ok Baba, I’ll
look after you. I’ll come back.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>April 1</b><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
J: Deda, Doug Findlater says Hot Wheels cars are for kids,
not adults. You should listen to Doug Findlater.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Doug Findlater! What do you know about him?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, he’s the mayor and he makes the rules.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: But what does he know about Hot Wheels cars?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, you have cars and a kid should play with them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: No J, they’re my special collector cars.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: But I want to play with them and Doug Findlater says….<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>April 5</b><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhquNSlqWsi0Frs0MuzXYz_lwrVKi4jedZiEqOTx2mWy6N8mKmtFpdeklI-ANqH0mnMxB6bE8-OCaREimkst1sZjbqHuOsItkqlOVsoRszmtxHXQUFg63zDEfNzjR7T2uTeIargBSEyaEC-/s1600/TFM+-+golf+lessons.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhquNSlqWsi0Frs0MuzXYz_lwrVKi4jedZiEqOTx2mWy6N8mKmtFpdeklI-ANqH0mnMxB6bE8-OCaREimkst1sZjbqHuOsItkqlOVsoRszmtxHXQUFg63zDEfNzjR7T2uTeIargBSEyaEC-/s320/TFM+-+golf+lessons.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I love golf and lacrosse.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: That’s great J. Two wonderful sports.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I want to keep doing it. I learned to hit the ball at the
target. Did you write that down?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Yes I did J. I like to tell your stories.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I like tennis. I like to throw balls. Who are you going
to send that to?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: I’ll probably put it on Facebook and my website.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I like golf because it’s fun. My coach is really funny.
He says they have a spider room for people who don’t listen. They’re bigger
than Darcy’s hand!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Would you go into the spider room?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I listen so I don‘t have to go into the room.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
(J is second from the top)<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>April 6</b><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxCmdzqFVZ2yo2RtQMLb53g1bbchoKO5_Ur4RMWZXvj8oHTfB2gOcNYu-DFFaJZvtzzG1eJPXdEO7WjYE3b_U2zyJt7zpx4TAHJTOBr9LcCkaF3vmTVK22IEf-5g3uokGtDgJxfjPYDKq/s1600/TFM+-+another+tooth+gone.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxCmdzqFVZ2yo2RtQMLb53g1bbchoKO5_Ur4RMWZXvj8oHTfB2gOcNYu-DFFaJZvtzzG1eJPXdEO7WjYE3b_U2zyJt7zpx4TAHJTOBr9LcCkaF3vmTVK22IEf-5g3uokGtDgJxfjPYDKq/s320/TFM+-+another+tooth+gone.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
J is one of those kids who refuses to wiggle a loose tooth.
He won't touch it. Today he came home from school with a front one hanging by
the proverbial thread.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Want me to pull it for you? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Noooo! I'll handle it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And he did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>April 9</b><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
J and his parents have moved into the house across the
street from us. It was the first night in his new room. He came for a morning
visit and looked both ways before crossing the street.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Did you have a good sleep?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I sure did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: What did you think when you woke up?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: It was late. I heard the birds.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: What did you do then?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Mommy and Daddy were still sleeping. They were out cold. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Did you turn on TV or something?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, do you know what my Daddy said? He heard the birds
and told them it’s six o’clock in the morning. Ha ha ha! Deda, guess what? I’ve
got three backyards. We can go to my house and play lacrosse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>April 11</b><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
J: Baba, I’m hungry. Can I have some lunch?<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Baba: How about some chicken noodle soup, your favourite?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: And crackers, I love crackers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(eats the whole can of soup, crackers, two cookies, an
orange and a popsicle)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Baba, can we go in the Mustang?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Baba: Where do you want to go?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Across the bridge to a store.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Baba: Why? What’s at the store><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I need new shorts Baba, I’m kinda short on shorts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Baba: Why don’t we just go for a drive with the top down?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Could we go to a restaurant for lunch?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(a half hour later, we’re at a restaurant where J eats most
of his burger, all of his fries and then we stop at a Dairy Queen where he has
a chocolate dipped cone)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Baba, is it dinner time yet?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>April 12</b><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3hn6OW6B80IVbEC_Ne7CETLjW9ByxBVxJ40VO9x4luRO1HC-Y5op71J644ID7HnhnewkEy04WjCe7QEa9jI0Uf43T8kOQ2Xge-krtkt7l6Dqgb6e8y0a42cdsTFMNOb170qWOFA8LqOGa/s1600/TFM+-+playground2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3hn6OW6B80IVbEC_Ne7CETLjW9ByxBVxJ40VO9x4luRO1HC-Y5op71J644ID7HnhnewkEy04WjCe7QEa9jI0Uf43T8kOQ2Xge-krtkt7l6Dqgb6e8y0a42cdsTFMNOb170qWOFA8LqOGa/s320/TFM+-+playground2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, I need pit juice. Can you put some of your pit
juice on me?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Now why does a little dude like you need pit juice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Cuz Deda, I have stinking pits. I work you know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: But all you’ve done is watch Netflix this morning. You
haven’t worked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I do work with you Deda.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: So this is like stinky pit prevention.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Yea Deda, pretention…….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>April 16</b><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQhti1Za6ccjHdSFHvgM4Z8QeR7mFOtfJmxqoZ2eFQHqlkk1QvOqn_oWcjqOEm9_LwRs7K8lZf-qCM8Mr2Jf1LD51pNePBvkRlMcraY1KnccbB6OuyAe9zMDLcZxoFlLRF5G7p0LBttXgU/s1600/TFM+-+swimming2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQhti1Za6ccjHdSFHvgM4Z8QeR7mFOtfJmxqoZ2eFQHqlkk1QvOqn_oWcjqOEm9_LwRs7K8lZf-qCM8Mr2Jf1LD51pNePBvkRlMcraY1KnccbB6OuyAe9zMDLcZxoFlLRF5G7p0LBttXgU/s320/TFM+-+swimming2.jpg" width="283" /></a></div>
<br />
J: Deda, can you take me swimming to the swimming pool
tomorrow?<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Not tomorrow buddy but maybe this summer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I can go in the deep end if I wear a life jacket and they
have a big slide.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Do you like the slide?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Yes, I hold my breath like this and I go down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Sounds like fun!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: And I don’t get water up my nose because boogers block
it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: So boogers are a good thing?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Yes, I like swimming.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>April 19</b><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5siXSK33OBrdj0XxDMmJh3ift0_bRTFoMiKUjDum92HsUWC4WdvBXH4mPmu-dC5878prmCUJZ4ySCn8u_G-dwH0W6cBiPnTptrWugV4KJii0shN2sEq1qu9f_vQDECC1-G1VHtX_BDtO/s1600/TFM+-+playground4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5siXSK33OBrdj0XxDMmJh3ift0_bRTFoMiKUjDum92HsUWC4WdvBXH4mPmu-dC5878prmCUJZ4ySCn8u_G-dwH0W6cBiPnTptrWugV4KJii0shN2sEq1qu9f_vQDECC1-G1VHtX_BDtO/s320/TFM+-+playground4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
J: Deda, do you know where the Old people hotel is in Smith
Creek?<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Yes I do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: We went there today and played bingo with the olderly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: That was nice of you J.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Yes Deda and if we won bingo we got candy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Did you win?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Yes and I picked Smarties. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Were the people older than Baba and Deda?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Yes, they were real old like great grandma only they were
still alive.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Well that’s a good thing right?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Yes, the olderly were real nice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comWest Kelowna, BC, Canada49.863612 -119.5644584000000349.6998065 -119.88718190000003 50.027417500000006 -119.24173490000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-65531725366259175422016-03-26T09:22:00.001-07:002016-03-26T10:08:42.740-07:00Conversations with Jonathan (51 - 60)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXO-UENeGXjRctCn_jlVHxTVARYkG3v85hkhJstsOCJ4MkRTVvAZDqFvvo54mYztjrVg0J01Th9gIzuWR3MG_xvSd4tKPjVCmb2ihhhyphenhyphen2u61HzUHxONRvsqN4Bk3zkuH17tWqnJesd5xA/s1600/TFM+-+Batman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXO-UENeGXjRctCn_jlVHxTVARYkG3v85hkhJstsOCJ4MkRTVvAZDqFvvo54mYztjrVg0J01Th9gIzuWR3MG_xvSd4tKPjVCmb2ihhhyphenhyphen2u61HzUHxONRvsqN4Bk3zkuH17tWqnJesd5xA/s200/TFM+-+Batman.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I began to publish Conversations with Jonathan on Facebook, toward the end of his pre-school experience. J's a talker, a bit of a smart-ass and always has that sparkle in his eye! On most days, I pick him up from school and we have a chat on the ride to Baba's. She lives on a mountain you know. He calls it Baba's mountain.<br />
<br />
Over the summer, we look after him daily. He never stops asking questions and happily offers analysis of various things in his life. He certainly is entertaining.<br />
<br />
Here then is part six of Conversations with Jonathan.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div>
March 10</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: The tooth fairy came and gave me a hundred dollars.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: You're telling big stories aren’t you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, It was a good tooth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: What if I ask your mommy how much the tooth fairy gave
you?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: You don’t t have to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, because I already told you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Can I have a loan?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
March 14<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm in Vancouver and he called long distance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Guess what Deda? I went to Energy Plex today for day camp
and guess what Deda, no parents! (Energy Plex is a big fun facility in Kelowna)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: sounds great J, did you have fun?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Yes, we played waser tag. We had to go into a big room
and shoot people with wasers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Sounds like fun, did you win?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: We shoot dem and the waser turns off their suit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: So you had a really good time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Wasers don't kill people Deda, they just turn off der
suits.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: So what else did you do?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: See you tomorrow Deda. You come to my house.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
March 18</div>
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<br /></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, it's time for breakfast. Look at the clock.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: It's not even 8 o'clock yet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: But the clock doesn't have breakfast, I do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: What would you like.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Toast and peanut butter..but not on raisin toast. I don't
like raisin toast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: So what kind do you like.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, I brought my own. What's for lunch?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: I don't know yet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Yesterday I had a hotdog and fries. Do you like hotdogs
and fries Deda?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Are you ready for toast?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: With peanut butter.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
March 17<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigeXZssWQBdFRgD5AB2R7G2vcgExpNXMJM_z2Et7x8e_5haPnMJ2GKnH1HqhDD770Hc2D4Uzt6jJT8B_CcaqXG9YJNIWBCC9uh0NnC5j_0obuQjUcENOQe_HPG0qbFxJAumDWO9ihzV27e/s1600/TFM+-+Caillou.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigeXZssWQBdFRgD5AB2R7G2vcgExpNXMJM_z2Et7x8e_5haPnMJ2GKnH1HqhDD770Hc2D4Uzt6jJT8B_CcaqXG9YJNIWBCC9uh0NnC5j_0obuQjUcENOQe_HPG0qbFxJAumDWO9ihzV27e/s320/TFM+-+Caillou.png" width="240" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, I know how to use all the flickers in my house. Did
you know that?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: What do you do with them?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I turn on all the TV’s anytime I like.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: And then what?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I watch a show. You know, like Caillou.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Caillou? Isn’t that the whiny bald kid?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: But they don’t make versions with Caillou crying.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: I think you watch that show just to bug your mother.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Sometimes I do.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
March 18</div>
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<br /></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik7C59M2RijqocOzIDEX2oZMo4bdsteu7USajZcQ721bkSAaePp2dmSwtDkexpygAbXK-yRO8ga_gSr277_hRmTj_mC4gxb9Hamf3qd-9tfGNaHJVY3-ZIvtJphcxJQWrwxHWjUGyV_DFw/s1600/TFM+-+popsicles.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik7C59M2RijqocOzIDEX2oZMo4bdsteu7USajZcQ721bkSAaePp2dmSwtDkexpygAbXK-yRO8ga_gSr277_hRmTj_mC4gxb9Hamf3qd-9tfGNaHJVY3-ZIvtJphcxJQWrwxHWjUGyV_DFw/s320/TFM+-+popsicles.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Finishes breakfast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, I’m all done my toast and peanut butter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: That’s good J. Do you want anything else?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Maybe, no. How about a popsicle?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(opens freezer and helps himself)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Really J, a popsicle for breakfast?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Yeah Deda, there’s only one left. Me and you have to go
to the store later in the Mustang.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: To buy me more popsicles! You can have one if you want
cuz I’m the boss of the popsicles.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: That’s nice J. Do you want me to put the top down?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Of course Deda, it's the Mustang.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
March 23<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi29rrpBplh8Omhm-fuvSKoJyGysS7R55bSvni4jt584XrtT_zRDi3fLgRY96IHeWB6ezqEIwp1SlfvK-G_YF0-j8fJI0bQdqbvqFc_Gi-fVoi7pgWhfkzyCx0bDGLtVwH1MBo0XjXSQYaq/s1600/ted_farr_media__1970_cougar_drivers_side3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi29rrpBplh8Omhm-fuvSKoJyGysS7R55bSvni4jt584XrtT_zRDi3fLgRY96IHeWB6ezqEIwp1SlfvK-G_YF0-j8fJI0bQdqbvqFc_Gi-fVoi7pgWhfkzyCx0bDGLtVwH1MBo0XjXSQYaq/s320/ted_farr_media__1970_cougar_drivers_side3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
J: When you fix the Cougar This summer, I think it needs a
tune down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: What's that?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: You know, when they fix it, a tune down makes it go
faster. Would you like that?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: It goes fast enough J.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Can we take it to the restaurant and get food on a tray?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Maybe, it depends on whether there's a restaurant that
does that anymore.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Well Baba said. Deda, do you want flames on the Cougar?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: No J, the Cougar wouldn't look good with flames.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: But Deda, race cars have flames.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
March 25<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimD2bPupsMzYFJS3TAnxM1428CaKLLnZoUjOlfU6FCD8xZHLYohbtkyY7FOKz7jvwym2GH-fS_vD9-XGOV1_L8qJ_6g_iaNBE1JxUVXt5SrLDWANIcqPSj2Mfc2EwagLIviV87K-Sz8yzF/s1600/TFM+-+Vans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimD2bPupsMzYFJS3TAnxM1428CaKLLnZoUjOlfU6FCD8xZHLYohbtkyY7FOKz7jvwym2GH-fS_vD9-XGOV1_L8qJ_6g_iaNBE1JxUVXt5SrLDWANIcqPSj2Mfc2EwagLIviV87K-Sz8yzF/s320/TFM+-+Vans.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Checking out our backyard.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Do you want to move Baba’s gardens over there?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda that’s where my treehouse goes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: But J, we don’t have a tree so how can we build a
treehouse?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: You could just buy one.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: But it wouldn’t be big enough.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Well we could build something Deda, like a workshop with
tools for me to work, or a sandbox.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: What kind of work do you want to do?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I’m going to have some gum like I always do. Look, I’m
wearing my Vans and my chicken shirt.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
March 26<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1HLum8jevWhwPI7Z9agHf0JGpRSZZ_UjT_w_UcyzhxTGdzwLfIEFOvHdLtWXffsoH1RfbVP9jSnqkr4zwWf9nebPgiMzdV-yt_v1mPhv4VwdB13vhYerDEqVDzizhpRIaTC-TyXuSVlDD/s1600/March+2016+-+lent.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1HLum8jevWhwPI7Z9agHf0JGpRSZZ_UjT_w_UcyzhxTGdzwLfIEFOvHdLtWXffsoH1RfbVP9jSnqkr4zwWf9nebPgiMzdV-yt_v1mPhv4VwdB13vhYerDEqVDzizhpRIaTC-TyXuSVlDD/s320/March+2016+-+lent.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, I’m giving up hash browns.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: My teacher said we have to give up something for Lent so
I’m giving up hash browns. (takes a bite)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: But you’re eating a hash brown right now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: It’s my last one. And Deda, if I give up hash browns long
enough, will I get a toy?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: You’ll have to talk to your Mom about that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, can you measure me? Am I taller?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
March 27<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, do you know what my tooth fairy name is?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: No J, what is it?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Jeffrey. I named my tooth fairy Jeffrey.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: How come?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I like that name and he brings me toys and money. See, I
lost another tooth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: So what did you do with the money?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I put it in my piggy bank.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Can you give me a loan, maybe a hundred bucks?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: No!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Well how much do you have?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: 59 bucks. (turns to his Dad) Do I have 59 bucks Daddy?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dad: You might have 20 bucks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: You’ll have to lose more teeth and then you can loan me
a hundred.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Oh Deda, you so funny!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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March 27<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6j2doIr4hRhs6iKvBiJJr828wB3G9ZvlJSgizKGBQl7i94MB4uOXUHuyPKcPKfwuPaKFgwcBkvPtOU3l8VOdH7zx6EEUGh5dJxY219cNYqDq7HcD1DrwniTckngdZ8YOjgGgvl83ytIE/s1600/TFM+-+Bum+boobs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6j2doIr4hRhs6iKvBiJJr828wB3G9ZvlJSgizKGBQl7i94MB4uOXUHuyPKcPKfwuPaKFgwcBkvPtOU3l8VOdH7zx6EEUGh5dJxY219cNYqDq7HcD1DrwniTckngdZ8YOjgGgvl83ytIE/s320/TFM+-+Bum+boobs.jpg" width="279" /></a></div>
<br />
J: Deda, do we have bum boobs?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: What on earth is that J?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: (points to his butt) Are these called bum boobs?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: No, I think those are butt cheeks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Oh! Put it on Facebook Deda and send it to Uncle Arden. I
have boobs on my butt. Hahaha…..</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comWest Kelowna, BC, Canada49.863612 -119.5644584000000349.6998065 -119.88718190000003 50.027417500000006 -119.24173490000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-12583842540675598582016-03-15T08:22:00.000-07:002016-03-15T08:22:57.072-07:00Conversations with Jonathan (41 - 50)<div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh6Db_4KKHUKfVZ-AcGKMBSRIvN-V_PQDu1CH5_b_itubq_uyFqdv0g-i9fvrc8M_R6tR1-NIC5G3S83dcu1G0HyxS8bTxzsTQ_TGTbBHuocRg0k6E3oSvsA0Wu_Ulk7cYp57MYmls66JD/s1600/TFM+-+fries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh6Db_4KKHUKfVZ-AcGKMBSRIvN-V_PQDu1CH5_b_itubq_uyFqdv0g-i9fvrc8M_R6tR1-NIC5G3S83dcu1G0HyxS8bTxzsTQ_TGTbBHuocRg0k6E3oSvsA0Wu_Ulk7cYp57MYmls66JD/s200/TFM+-+fries.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I began to publish Conversations with Jonathan on Facebook, toward the end of his pre-school experience. J's a talker, a bit of a smart-ass and always has that sparkle in his eye! On most days, I pick him up from school and we have a chat on the ride to Baba's. She lives on a mountain you know. He calls it Baba's mountain.<br />
<br />
Over the summer, we look after him daily. He never stops asking questions and happily offers analysis of various things in his life. He certainly is entertaining.<br />
<br />
Here then is part five of Conversations with Jonathan.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>January 7, 2016</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
While driving to Baba's.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, are those the cars from my school?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: No Jonathan, it's just a line of cars.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Because we're all going in the same direction.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Because we're all headed up the hill toward Baba's.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: You mean like a parade of cars?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Yes J, like a parade of cars.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Cept they don't have trumpets. (Makes a fanfare sound
with his lips) That would be weird if they had trumpets.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>February 9, 2016</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, I'm a really fast runner now. Do you like my new
wunch kit?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: It's nice. Where'd you get it?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Auntie Lori. The older I get the faster I can run and I'm
taller too. Can I play in the park? Do you have any chocolate? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: 15 minutes J and I don't think you need any chocolate
right now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Whines as he runs off.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>February 15, 2016</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
J: Deda, guess what? Arianna had to go home from school
today. She was sick. And guess what Deda, she's my girlfriend.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Really! How many girlfriends do you have?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: About a hundred, but only one wife. I'm going to marry
Cienna.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: That's nice J, when did you decide that?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I made up my mind when I was a little kid. I like girls.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>February 24, 2016</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Deda, are we going to get my bike so I can ride?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: We can't today J. We have things to do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: But you said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: I know J, we have company coming over so we can't go to
the park.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I'm going to ask Baba. If she says yes, you have to do
what you're told.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: I don't think Baba will say yes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: But she likes me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>February 25, 2016</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
Me: Who was that girl blowing kisses at you and grabbing
your coat?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: That was Arianna, she’s my girlfriend.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: And what did she call you?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: She calls me Johnny-poo.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Johnny-poo?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Yes, Johnny-poo but we’re not supposed to kiss at school.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Germs.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>March 1</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
J: Deda, we speak French at school.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Really J.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: We say Bonjour misseri.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Who is misseri?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: That's how we say hello. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Oh, so you mean mes amis……What other French words do you
know?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: (counts to ten in French)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: That's very good.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: And I have a accent too. Bonjoo. Did you hear it?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>March 1</b><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, I don't want to change my clothes when we get to
Baba's.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Because, I don't want to do it too early.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Early? Why's that?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Because I'll get bored too easy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Whatever do you mean?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I'll have nothing to look forward to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: You have such a tough life Jonathan.......<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>March 2</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Talking about the equipment he needs to play lacrosse.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: You have to have a mouth guard to protect your teeth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, does it go over my teeth? Can I still talk?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Yes J. That would be important to you. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And, you'll need a jock to protect your junk.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: My junk! Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: It's like a helmet for your junk.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Do it have a mask too?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>March 9</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Did you like your first lacrosse practise?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Yes, I'm good you know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: What was your favourite part:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: When we ran and the coaches tried to knock the ball out
of our sticks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: You did pretty good on that drill.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I ran behind the net and the coach said I couldn't do
that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: You try anything you can think of.<o:p></o:p></div>
J: Can you buy me gum?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>March 10</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
Me: How are you?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I have no words.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: What do you mean?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I used up all my words today.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: So you're not going to talk?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: No.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(half a minute later)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, I'm hungry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Thought you weren't talking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Oh, Deda!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comWest Kelowna, BC, Canada49.863612 -119.5644584000000349.6998065 -119.88718190000003 50.027417500000006 -119.24173490000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-87990941972544285072016-03-12T10:09:00.000-08:002016-03-12T10:11:37.334-08:00Conversations with Jonathan (31 - 40)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXczaaT3y8l6qMTwSDuIjEgOm4BfDLSvzKlGCAvH5wxcifA2ikVfPHykM8USBw9STPKjVd3ixTrtto_4obk_7957_OXuvUGrnUSL2Kj4lPUVdtIG5NT6v6HnAaO47DcBfpoibEmCGU7Y83/s1600/December+2015+-+J+Christmas+concert.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXczaaT3y8l6qMTwSDuIjEgOm4BfDLSvzKlGCAvH5wxcifA2ikVfPHykM8USBw9STPKjVd3ixTrtto_4obk_7957_OXuvUGrnUSL2Kj4lPUVdtIG5NT6v6HnAaO47DcBfpoibEmCGU7Y83/s200/December+2015+-+J+Christmas+concert.JPG" width="154" /></a></div>
I began to publish Conversations with Jonathan on Facebook, toward the end of his pre-school experience. J's a talker, a bit of a smart-ass and always has that sparkle in his eye! On most days, I pick him up from school and we have a chat on the ride to Baba's. She lives on a mountain you know. He calls it Baba's mountain.<br />
<br />
Over the summer, we look after him daily. He never stops asking questions and happily offers analysis of various things in his life. He certainly is entertaining.<br />
<br />
Here then is part four of Conversations with Jonathan.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>December 9, 2015<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I was a good boy at school today.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: that's excellent! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I got to pick a prize from the prize box.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: that's great J, what did pick? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: A car.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: why am I not surprised? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: It broke already but I'll show you anyway. Can you buy me
another one? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: You'll have to ask Baba.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>December 10, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5kobyv0QkszbPY1CSmV5nGeJyXjT5t_Z7YCTcaj5-kRs8JMQ9LyQM1yloZwW6mVZ-tojp65Ki72cKoOXOj5D89WmLHpj6d2VsHriDVZAnxHVrPRTSAsOwzDg-JnsXxWwNDzuPicWxvDRQ/s1600/TFM+-+xmas+train.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5kobyv0QkszbPY1CSmV5nGeJyXjT5t_Z7YCTcaj5-kRs8JMQ9LyQM1yloZwW6mVZ-tojp65Ki72cKoOXOj5D89WmLHpj6d2VsHriDVZAnxHVrPRTSAsOwzDg-JnsXxWwNDzuPicWxvDRQ/s320/TFM+-+xmas+train.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, boys have dooeys and girls don't, right Deda?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: That's right J.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: And we both have these, right Deda? (Lifts his shirt and
bares his chest)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: That's right J.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>December 19, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhotSbp_nx6SIkiEmFCWYi9k2NaxJijVleQJKPkp6lRY8wP9lHVBUUXTffL9jTVswj1YvcK3hm0t0P9vEU8LBVFl9I9IAP4_74mqvOorDCn-L2-06DVzje2ftd5wT76Qmme4q8rGSbW3sF/s1600/TFM+-+underwear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhotSbp_nx6SIkiEmFCWYi9k2NaxJijVleQJKPkp6lRY8wP9lHVBUUXTffL9jTVswj1YvcK3hm0t0P9vEU8LBVFl9I9IAP4_74mqvOorDCn-L2-06DVzje2ftd5wT76Qmme4q8rGSbW3sF/s320/TFM+-+underwear.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, can you get me a video game for Christmas?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: I already got you something. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: What Deda, a toy?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: No J, I bought you a box full of socks and underwear. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Oh Deda, you so funny.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Don't laugh little buddy, you'll love the socks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I'm going to ask Baba.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>December 23, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_EOxNu1EHSFYJaX5KZDnLGipslknl5xkE-8duwAiL4WFmJr42JL7XH8P9MFaxvaPOwZrvYEWOUa1w-oyvBn_Tzpt1FO_sMYidn03gsoscbonTET72mcteqZzJSOzX2tUVbJ-L1U3271uP/s1600/TFM+-+bridge+to+Kelowna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_EOxNu1EHSFYJaX5KZDnLGipslknl5xkE-8duwAiL4WFmJr42JL7XH8P9MFaxvaPOwZrvYEWOUa1w-oyvBn_Tzpt1FO_sMYidn03gsoscbonTET72mcteqZzJSOzX2tUVbJ-L1U3271uP/s400/TFM+-+bridge+to+Kelowna.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, my whole world is small.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Because we don't have big stores cept for walfart and
stupidstore. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: That's ok right? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, when we cross the bridge, it's a big world. They
have lots of stores and buildings over der. But my world is small Deda.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Ah!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>December 23, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, you and me are the bosses right?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Why do you say that J?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Sometimes Baba doesn't know what she's doing and we have
to tell her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: I don't know J! Not such a good idea.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Well, Baba would have a very different point of view.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: What's that? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: It's Baba's opinion, how she sees a situation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Well, I want to do what I want to do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: I guess you've got some things to learn.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: You mean like school?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: The school of life J.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>December 25, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKaNqwKa-K3JmCHHsX-69kzYHYn7Pq0zzOPuiEI3BizCeUnYEFzALKST9fpPhifCLvdfMgX1zuqQNykHATa-c19w-_BYJ1Ag8kLZ067mAdNTDNNwerJI_NVwbpEScfRzzzzQimjQ5RY-uo/s1600/TFM+-+xmas+morning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKaNqwKa-K3JmCHHsX-69kzYHYn7Pq0zzOPuiEI3BizCeUnYEFzALKST9fpPhifCLvdfMgX1zuqQNykHATa-c19w-_BYJ1Ag8kLZ067mAdNTDNNwerJI_NVwbpEScfRzzzzQimjQ5RY-uo/s320/TFM+-+xmas+morning.jpg" width="293" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Oh, it's clothes. Here Baba, you open it. I can't believe
it's Christmas already.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>January 1. 2016</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNyM7Reb7M4lt2X70E2ZlXPMRihfsfmX3ZH-Fw47uF16jXEzQQBKTpt-c4mxrhUFdW-46snnWs0gDUkED7ZQC0TmTdJhTGpZYTNmsar1C3wA6_LIZh-n31C_maZuneAeXP83QJaHkXzM43/s1600/TFM+-+the+letter+w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNyM7Reb7M4lt2X70E2ZlXPMRihfsfmX3ZH-Fw47uF16jXEzQQBKTpt-c4mxrhUFdW-46snnWs0gDUkED7ZQC0TmTdJhTGpZYTNmsar1C3wA6_LIZh-n31C_maZuneAeXP83QJaHkXzM43/s320/TFM+-+the+letter+w.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He's learning phonics in
kindergarten. We're at the restaurant. J comes back to the table from the
washroom.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, how come there's no g for guh on the bathroom door?
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: What do you mean?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: You know, guh for guys.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Let's go and look. They have an m for muh, men.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And on the other door they have w for wuh. What does wuh
mean J?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Wuh means wadies. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: That's perfect J.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>January 5, 2016</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, I have the hiccups. Can you scare me over there
while I watch my show?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Sure J, just hold your breath until I get there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>January 5, 2016</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, this summer can you make me a car wash for my cars?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: How would we do that?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Well, we need a hose and one of those things with the
holes and a scrubby thing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: And then what?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Soap, we need soap and towels. It's hard to use the
towels.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Are you going to help me wash the Mustang in your car
wash?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, it's too small. It's for my cars not yours.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Well that's nice!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: You can go to the big car wash Deda. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: But J, the Mustang leaks in the big car wash.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, you know something, we need a convader so the cars
can move. Then we can do the Mustang.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: A convader?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: You know, a convader.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>January 5, 2016</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRyrjLx9jsL6GgBXMx2ZJj4apmksUGhGUisBCMgz6KhzzPgYchTyqNeYVDghgvxb1eFOmq-mohWEZK6Gw01ibE2oLq4cOMObTwnrwr2xOBRlY8WszNmIxgJ8BXQFfkz_9exevsD9-sCKp/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+2004+Mustang+GT1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRyrjLx9jsL6GgBXMx2ZJj4apmksUGhGUisBCMgz6KhzzPgYchTyqNeYVDghgvxb1eFOmq-mohWEZK6Gw01ibE2oLq4cOMObTwnrwr2xOBRlY8WszNmIxgJ8BXQFfkz_9exevsD9-sCKp/s320/Ted+Farr+Media+-+2004+Mustang+GT1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, guess what? You know that thing on your trunk? That
means this is a race car.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: You mean the spoiler?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Yes, you have one on this car and on the Mustang. That
means they're both racers. I didn't want to tell you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Why J?<o:p></o:p></div>
J: Only I know about race cars Deda. Actually you have
three, the Cougar, the Mustang and the fancy car. They're cool Deda.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comWest Kelowna, BC, Canada49.863612 -119.5644584000000349.6998065 -119.88718190000003 50.027417500000006 -119.24173490000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-9895755736474896962016-03-09T13:35:00.000-08:002016-03-10T10:28:22.535-08:00Conversations with Jonathan (21 - 30)<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSq55R85fBBTyFU5BtdEsg-bO4xlSNF_K05YyaOhmtUuzNchz9GK0ltBhEM7-xH3hCQSbj5WNHEcX6yOmb8EBLlcn768ewMZgpqE_dp9BoHX93eyIrhzNIDTvB5qRNRTBVNHSpVVgUrtfD/s1600/TFM+-+big+glasses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSq55R85fBBTyFU5BtdEsg-bO4xlSNF_K05YyaOhmtUuzNchz9GK0ltBhEM7-xH3hCQSbj5WNHEcX6yOmb8EBLlcn768ewMZgpqE_dp9BoHX93eyIrhzNIDTvB5qRNRTBVNHSpVVgUrtfD/s200/TFM+-+big+glasses.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I began to publish Conversations with Jonathan on Facebook, toward the end of his pre-school experience. J's a talker, a bit of a smart-ass and always has that sparkle in his eye! On most days, I pick him up from school and we have a chat on the ride to Baba's. She lives on a mountain you know. He calls it Baba's mountain.<br />
<br />
Over the summer, we look after him daily. He never stops asking questions and happily offers analysis of various things in his life. He certainly is entertaining.<br />
<br />
Here then is part three of Conversations with Jonathan.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>October 25, 2015</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
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<br />
He just found out that his Baba has a twin and that means
they have the same birthday.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, guess what?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: It's raining.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda......guess what? We have the same birthday.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Yes we do Jonathan, and that makes us special.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Are we twins?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Yes J, you and me. Twins forever.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda.........<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>October 26, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
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<br />
J: Deda, look what I did at school.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Tell me about it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda.....it's fish.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Nice Jonathan. You're becoming quite the artist. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: But they don't have eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: I'll put it on the fridge anyway. Want to help me? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: (Huge smile)<o:p></o:p><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>October 27, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me. How was school today? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J. Did Baba buy me treats?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me. Was school fun? What did you do? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J. I forget. Do we have to go to the store for Baba?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me. Baba went to the store yesterday. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J. Did she get treats?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me. You'll have to ask Baba.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>November 19, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
Me: do you want chicken and fries for a snack?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: no<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: why?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I ate my lunch, I want treats<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: like what?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I want a Rocket Pop and then Smarties. Did Baba buy me
anything?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: no<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: does Baba have cookies? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: yes<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: then I'll have cookies and popcorn. Does Baba have ice
cream?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: so did you have fun at school?<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>November 24, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
In the car right after school.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda did you decorate the tree?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: No, but Baba did and she saved one ornament for you to
put on the tree. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Which one? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Jacob Marley. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Whose Jacob Marley?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We'll have to watch the movie again soon.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>November 26, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I was a good boy at school today. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: That's excellent! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I got to pick a prize from the prize box.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: That's great J, what did pick? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: A car.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Why am I not surprised? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: It broke already but I'll show you anyway. Can you buy me
another one? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: You'll have to ask Baba<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>November 27, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, can you buy me a magnifying glass for my birthday?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Maybe I'd like to buy you a present that I want to give
you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: That's okay as long as it's about bugs.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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<b>November 30, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Can you take me to the park Deda?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Not today Jonathan. It's too cold.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I'll ask Baba. She'll say yes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: I don't think so Jonathan. Not today.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Baba always says yes. Did she buy me popcorn and hot
chocolate?<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>December 2, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
J: Did Baba buy me chocolate?<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Do you mean hot chocolate?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: No I mean in your mouth chocolate. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: You'll have to ask Baba.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>December 5, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, I have to tell you something. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: What's that J?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Katrina and Arianna try to kiss me at school. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: That's nice. What do you do?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I run real fast and they can't catch me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Fast like a Cheetah? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: And next time I'm going to hide on the roof.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: So you had fun.<o:p></o:p></div>
J: Yes.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comWest Kelowna, BC, Canada49.863612 -119.5644584000000349.6998065 -119.88718190000003 50.027417500000006 -119.24173490000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-5756556450619646102016-03-04T16:11:00.001-08:002016-03-10T10:26:55.404-08:00Conversations with Jonathan (11 - 20)<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhML_aQBqPI7Hg25I_skkhTpD9SROTEM8Ip89DCf7Zoe4Lxj4B9B0HAqflT6iZiOsJQczRL-tnsFNaAvKciIVX0Z7RY2jY1huszeGtE_zFi1xL5I0e-pZY46ochD4Wq-GsiMW_as937sGfq/s1600/TFM+-+me+and+my+buddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhML_aQBqPI7Hg25I_skkhTpD9SROTEM8Ip89DCf7Zoe4Lxj4B9B0HAqflT6iZiOsJQczRL-tnsFNaAvKciIVX0Z7RY2jY1huszeGtE_zFi1xL5I0e-pZY46ochD4Wq-GsiMW_as937sGfq/s200/TFM+-+me+and+my+buddy.jpg" width="187" /></a></div>
I began to publish Conversations with Jonathan on Facebook, toward the end of his pre-school experience. J's a talker, a bit of a smart-ass and always has that sparkle in his eye! On most days, I pick him up from school and we have a chat on the ride to Baba's. She lives on a mountain you know. He calls it Baba's mountain.<br />
<br />
Over the summer, we look after him daily. He never stops asking questions and happily offers analysis of various things in his life. He certainly is entertaining.<br />
<br />
Here then is part two of Conversations with Jonathan.<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
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<u><b><br /></b></u>
<u><b>June 13, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></u></div>
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<br />
J: Deda do you have a bobo on your weg?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Yes I do J.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Do you need a bandaid Deda?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Sure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(He gets me a Lightning McQueen bandaid)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thanks J.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>June 17, 2015</u></b></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, did you have a jetpack a long time ago?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: No.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Why? Don't you like to go fast?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Not really.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Why? I'm fast like a cheetah you know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: How come you want a jetpack? Where would you go?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: (Pointing at the sky), up there. I want to go up there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: J you can go anywhere your dreams take you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, do you like ice cream? I do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>June 26, 2015</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Holy cow Deda, it's 80 bugrees!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: How do you know that J?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Look, on the whale. (Splashes me as he paddles away
riding his pool noodle)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>July 3, 2015</u><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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J: I love your skin head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: That's nice Jonathan.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Sometimes when I touch it it's very smooth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Thank you Jonathan<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Can I touch your tattoo?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Yes Jonathan.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>July 8, 2015</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Deda, are you and Uncle Arden going to build more deck
later?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Yes Jonathan.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Can I help? Can I use a drill?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: No J, too dangerous.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I'm dangerous too Deda. Watch me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>July 13, 2015</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiL_8KntYOqb3gyjRujFRxZj2Yxs4s1PUhrft058NWJhIqawrT74q7DVABsrHHj9c1BUgOtsH_hYZPzPVaO5rBsHAIk9MZyxdd4E9pFls_hdDDM30fiZwOaod84aT29eLH57XQi8PIVkGT/s1600/TFM+-+too+big.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiL_8KntYOqb3gyjRujFRxZj2Yxs4s1PUhrft058NWJhIqawrT74q7DVABsrHHj9c1BUgOtsH_hYZPzPVaO5rBsHAIk9MZyxdd4E9pFls_hdDDM30fiZwOaod84aT29eLH57XQi8PIVkGT/s320/TFM+-+too+big.jpg" width="219" /></a></div>
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J: Deda I want to ride in a fancy race car buggy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: I thought you were too big for those. Aren't you a big
boy now?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I am a big boy but a little short.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>July 19, 2015</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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J: When I disguised myself, did you know who I am?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: No Jonathan. Who were you?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I'm Ron Johnson.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Footnote: we have no idea who Ron Johnson is or where he got
that from.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u>August 6, 2015</u><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Guess what Baba?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Baba: What Jonathan?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: My real name is Jonathan John Bufort.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Baba: (Suppressed laughter)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<u><b>September 13, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></u></div>
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J: Deda, do you like cwotch wockets?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Pardon?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: You know, cwotch wockets.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Oh you mean crotch rockets.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda......motorcycles.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: I was thinking something else , sorry!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u>September 18, 2015</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Baba: Jonathan you need to practise writing your name. Can
you do that for Baba?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Baba, my name's too big.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comWest Kelowna, BC, Canada49.863612 -119.5644584000000349.6998065 -119.88718190000003 50.027417500000006 -119.24173490000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-33698520139650265672016-02-28T11:15:00.000-08:002016-03-04T16:12:42.305-08:00Conversations with Jonathan (1 - 10)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
I began to publish Conversations with Jonathan on Facebook, toward the end of his pre-school experience. J's a talker, a bit of a smart-ass and always has that sparkle in his eye! On most days, I pick him up from school and we have a chat on the ride to Baba's. She lives on a mountain you know. He calls it Baba's mountain. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Jonathan has her wrapped around his little finger. Baba is his world and he is her's.</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
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I should explain that my wife Terrie is Russian, so Baba was what she wanted to be called by our only grandchild. I'm not Russian but Terrie asked if I'd be okay with Deda instead of Bompie or Grandpa, one of the terms of endearment from my family background. For sure I'm okay with it because I also believe it important that Jonathan knows and understands his Baba's heritage. It's an important part of our happiness and celebrations. </div>
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Reactions to my conversations include descriptions like "funny" and "so cute", plus you've encouraged me to write a book. Well here we go. Conversations with Jonathan, presented in installments. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>April 30, 2015</u></b></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Deda: Do frogs cross the bridge?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: I guess so.</div>
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J: Do dem like to go shopping?</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u>May 1, 2015</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, I want the government to meet me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: No you don't.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Because the government does weird stuff.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Good question Jonathan. I'm afraid nobody knows the
answer.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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J: Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<u><b>May 3, 2015</b><o:p></o:p></u></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda see how much money I got from the tooth fairy.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Oh wow J.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: I have lots of money do I.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: You sure do.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: I think I'll buy a new house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u>May 7, 2015</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Deda, I'm almost out of lollipops.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: That's too bad.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: You want to take me to the lollipop store?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Sure.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: I really want a blue one.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Why's that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: I like a blue tongue.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u>May 9, 2015</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Jonathan you are being sassy, disrespectful and
you're not doing what you're told.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Deda, when you say dat you break my heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: (Muffled laughter)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u>May 10, 2015</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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J: (singing). Ba ba ba bababerann</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Sweet J, that's the surfer dudes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Take my hand baby.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Save that one for the girls.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Ba ba ba bababerann.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u>May 11, 2015</u></b></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Deda, is it Mother's Day still?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: No J, it's over.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Is there a guy's day?<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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Me: Some mothers would tell you it's guy's day every day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u>May 12, 2015</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I am a robot.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Careful J, watch Baba's stuff.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: It's a Iron Man box Deda.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: You still have to buy careful around Baba's stuff.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: I'm just wearing dis you know.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u>May 27, 2015</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, would you buy me a lawnmower. They have lawnmowers
for boys.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Is that right?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: They have engines and they start.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: What would you do with a lawnmower?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: I'd go to the store.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: On a lawnmower?<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: They have engines you know.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u>May 27, 2015</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Deda, are we going to Superstore?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: No, not today.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
J: Why do we call it Stupid store?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: We're just being funny.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J: Well it is stupid in there sometimes you know.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comWest Kelowna, BC, Canada49.863612 -119.5644584000000349.6998065 -119.88718190000003 50.027417500000006 -119.24173490000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-36294975250385355652015-07-24T14:06:00.000-07:002015-07-25T08:02:29.844-07:00Root Beer Floats - Treat or Inspiration<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7VCdScRR7OVlMnTMNRlASIYNt3jCKsG5cmd6Zv8lAQFc0n7uDq8L94kWdO29FCqkF32lhv_8UhzOffLTeyCazWzbpSSeblM2Wj6w7oCZAOZ9WcRCkNqFmlyGwbeON8Ybh3nUV0N37Y0Wm/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+on+the+phone+anonymously.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7VCdScRR7OVlMnTMNRlASIYNt3jCKsG5cmd6Zv8lAQFc0n7uDq8L94kWdO29FCqkF32lhv_8UhzOffLTeyCazWzbpSSeblM2Wj6w7oCZAOZ9WcRCkNqFmlyGwbeON8Ybh3nUV0N37Y0Wm/s320/Ted+Farr+Media+-+on+the+phone+anonymously.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am a mentor for a Canadian Cancer Society program
called <a href="http://www.cancer.ca/en/support-and-services/support-services/talk-to-someone-who-has-been-there/?region=bc" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: blue;">Cancer Connection</span></b></a>. When a cancer patient or a family member wants to
talk with someone who has been through it, those with cancers similar to the
one I had are often directed to me. The calls are confidential and anonymous. All we know is each other's first names. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mentors play a support role. We share our personal experience and listen for clues to the fears and frustrations of the client. We
encourage dialogue with the person’s medical team while staying clear of
offering medical advice. Through the years of doing this, I note a few
similarities.</div>
<a name='more'></a><ul>
<li>Cancer
is scary</li>
<li>Treatments
are scary</li>
<li>Patients
sometimes doubt or are confused by what a doctor has told them</li>
<li>They
want personal connection to go along with clinical advice and don’t always feel
the connection with a doctor</li>
<li>They
are sometimes afraid of asking questions</li>
<li>They
want reassurance and a sense of normal (even though cancer is not normal)</li>
<li>They
want practical solutions to problems encountered</li>
<li>They’re
looking for inspiration</li>
<li>They
want to hear about a successful result</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I’ve been able to help many people</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Men and women but mostly men with throat cancer or their family members have called
Cancer Connection to make a connection. Ages have ranged from 30 to 80 and
every generation in between. Some had questions prior to treatments (like does
it hurt). Some wanted support during the process and in the weeks following as
recovery begins. I’ve also talked with a
few people who sought help with lingering frustrations up to two years after treatments.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Recovery is slow</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You have to be patient with yourself and the process. Everybody
is different but a few things are the same. Radiation and chemotherapy
treatments for neck cancers often result in an inability to eat solid foods for
sometimes months. Saliva ducts can be permanently damaged. Taste buds can
change. Those are just a few of the side effects of eradicating the cancer from
your body. There is a new normal that has to be established. It won’t ever be
the same as it was. Impatience only enhances frustration. Those of us who have
been through it know that we didn’t have a cold, with a recovery rate of days.
We had cancer, with a recovery rate of sometimes years.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The small victories<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp8SWLK8qw6xAw8_jvw6vhgRv270ZiAT3TEYwnp8U16zbIJPhutUZU5dpwrXB9f8IaZltNLf0jR70DDP6MCJYySiZ6Ek5kTnMTREIGKB0p6IaCavmgeMh_IQD2KKSfp2cKyZNV_n2Dot-d/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+root+beer+float.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp8SWLK8qw6xAw8_jvw6vhgRv270ZiAT3TEYwnp8U16zbIJPhutUZU5dpwrXB9f8IaZltNLf0jR70DDP6MCJYySiZ6Ek5kTnMTREIGKB0p6IaCavmgeMh_IQD2KKSfp2cKyZNV_n2Dot-d/s320/Ted+Farr+Media+-+root+beer+float.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A recent client connection was determined to eat solid foods
again after a couple of months on a liquid diet. Every attempt was a failure
either because the chosen favourite food tasted awful or was too acidic and
hurt the throat. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My advice was, “keep trying because you will eventually find
something you like”. Start bland like a broth. If a solid food, take small
bites and chew thoroughly. If difficult to swallow due to dry mouth, use a liquid
like water or milk to help. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then it happened, a root beer float. Not only did the
root beer taste like root beer but the vanilla ice cream tasted like vanilla
ice cream. It was the first positive experience after brutal treatments. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Root beer floats. For one person, a pre cancer treat is now
a post cancer inspiration.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-1553325631571826232015-07-07T08:33:00.000-07:002015-07-07T10:00:06.972-07:00Where is Your Phone Book<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A new Kelowna BC phone book arrived on my doorstep this week. As a <a href="http://www.tedfarrmedia.com/p/services.html" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: blue;">Digital Content Marketing and Public Relations Specialist</span></b></a>, it bugs me. It has for several years. There was a time when we were all lost without a phone book (White Pages in the front and Yellow Pages in the back). Larger cities had two books, White Pages for regular listings and Yellow Pages for businesses and services. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDHLYFLefh4Tr5kk5S9q_WsTllbvGsnEyJmSZf_eW4m3e78iBGQJbFIGkjnJ9vvmWbU_mibZ4jjKUHlWehc_td5cgFigHHzKxWTFDQCTu0_ymHHaBR8desYdS3R3PbeUGGAmm7fQ7OZqE/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Yellow+Pages.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDHLYFLefh4Tr5kk5S9q_WsTllbvGsnEyJmSZf_eW4m3e78iBGQJbFIGkjnJ9vvmWbU_mibZ4jjKUHlWehc_td5cgFigHHzKxWTFDQCTu0_ymHHaBR8desYdS3R3PbeUGGAmm7fQ7OZqE/s320/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Yellow+Pages.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Bring back memories? </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the end of a year, the books would be all dog eared (with
apologies to the dog) and maybe some pages were missing. Doodling with a pen or pencil was more than acceptable. You used the books constantly. Business owners set aside budget to make sure
their Yellow Pages ad could be seen. For many
it was a critical part of a simple marketing plan - word of mouth and the
Yellow Pages, a great combination because it worked. And for some, it obviously still works because the books continue to be printed every year.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">The world has already changed</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you know where your 2015 phone book is right now? Do you even have a phone book in the house or
at the office? If you do, what’s it used
for? Of the thousands and thousands that were printed, how many got recycled within minutes of delivery (mine was)? And how many more get stuffed into a drawer untouched until next year?<br />
<br />
A business owner's marketing plan requires focus, strategy and
a willingness to discard out of date habits. Most have
multiple components or touch points for consistent interaction with both current and potential customers. So what’s your plan? And, do hard copy phone books even matter anymore?</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Computers, tablets and smart phones</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgpNxiqVd4bfrwChshUDHGlQCJRLEnKAWRTsFBSGy1QfNdlfUF6UAfMO_S4D7gX5WrX3rTJVylo8nt2EEOAC4jT8HGKl5w_N3a_p4ZluVZE_oB6NT0o226Fg0_T5WPb2X8RsOKYxjSLEEt/s1600/MP900178677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgpNxiqVd4bfrwChshUDHGlQCJRLEnKAWRTsFBSGy1QfNdlfUF6UAfMO_S4D7gX5WrX3rTJVylo8nt2EEOAC4jT8HGKl5w_N3a_p4ZluVZE_oB6NT0o226Fg0_T5WPb2X8RsOKYxjSLEEt/s200/MP900178677.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
According to Stats Canada, more than 90% of Canadians use
the internet for email. What does that
tell you about ownership of computers, tablets and smart phones? It takes but seconds to look up a business
and its Google Map. It takes seconds to find a phone number as long as you have cell service or wifi. So the real question for your business is this. Can
you be easily found on line? Whether you are in the phone book is no longer relevant. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">It’s too expensive, I don’t have the money</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It may be the world’s biggest excuse for having a lousy
website or no website at all. It's also the biggest excuse for not being engaged in Social Media (Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, YouTube and other communication tools). Yet many
of these same businesses spend hundreds or even thousands of dollars per month
advertising in the traditional Yellow Pages.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The digital media clock is ticking </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For many businesses the money is available (Your Yellow Pages budget just might be enough). What’s missing
is time, the guts and the determination to develop and execute a marketing plan to communicate with today's consumer utilizing today's technology. You must choose to survive in the digital
world, commit to a strategy, set aside the budget and join the conversation with your current and potential customers.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Time is in fact money</b></span><br />
<br />
If you don't have the time to do it yourself, then search your budget for the money to hire a digital media professional. And, you may want to ask your customers what they did with their phone books.<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-89061529751450364912015-06-02T14:07:00.001-07:002015-06-02T14:18:25.616-07:00Never too Old for Ink<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ouyb73ZfNwOdMLh0jLCJ1ESFwtdo_Z_ZX-5kxTb7enFm_X6nMeBytwMRy9bZ8pyVKK7uAfsa1PCOpkznz5R3rflenmjolSIB-wr-wCYJ01tKw9C2ya0gVtUC3ha_JMuQfW5PAZf7cE3q/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+June+2015+-+girl+with+heart+tattoo+on+her+butt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ouyb73ZfNwOdMLh0jLCJ1ESFwtdo_Z_ZX-5kxTb7enFm_X6nMeBytwMRy9bZ8pyVKK7uAfsa1PCOpkznz5R3rflenmjolSIB-wr-wCYJ01tKw9C2ya0gVtUC3ha_JMuQfW5PAZf7cE3q/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+June+2015+-+girl+with+heart+tattoo+on+her+butt.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You can’t go anywhere anymore without seeing men and women
with tattoos. They are young, they are old and all ages in between. Some tats
are small, some are large. People have them on their legs, their arms, backs,
necks, hands and feet and in places so private only the chosen few are allowed to
see. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are words and symbols, hearts and flowers, snakes and dragons, dogs
and cats, barbed wire, devils and spikey things. </div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">If you can imagine it, no doubt
someone has that tattoo</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have spent countless hours observing tattooed people at
the mall (it’s a professional thing). Some are stereotypes, men with too much
muscle, odd haircuts and shirts that began life in the underwear department.
Their female companions tend to wear really tight low cut pants (seemingly no
underwear) and shorty tops revealing ink that disappears down the inside of
those tight pants making you imagine what the whole show looks like. Some are
just regular people like you and me except for the tattoo or tattoos, often
small and hopefully meaningful to the person who paid good money to have an
artist inject ink into their skin at some ungodly pin-prick rate per minute.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Some tattoos appear to be just stupid</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I suppose they
made sense at the time. Tattoo artists make big money turning those mistakes
into something else at a much later date. I knew a guy who had a mean looking
court jester tattooed in black ink on his upper arm. It was transformed from a
scowling menace to a multi coloured entertainer by a clever ink master. And
what do you do when you are no longer involved with the boyfriend or girlfriend
whose name you had permanently displayed on your body. Tattoos are not just for
the young and beautiful and they are not always rated PG. As our doctor told my
wife and me, she has seen tattoos literally where the sun don’t shine. She is
no longer shocked or surprised by either the ink or metal. I guess some people
also have piercings in the most intimate places.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Ours was not a snap decision</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My wife Terrie and I have talked about getting tattoos ever since
our son passed away suddenly at the age of 32. As the trauma and the grief
transformed into warm memories, as we once again found the joy in the celebrations
of our first born, the idea of tattoos became more and more important. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">My relationship with our son revolved around sports</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX_pEL_iOLKdx3FUPATQAiL8q8yQYJ_C2q3UeqfFJIsvbxmWu3-gljybhLF696P-XvPENcMNAkAYCEN8VOOc2dloxqkA-VuAWfi0Fr_TZ_sDxgK_DnyFaGdcuI7XoKPK7tPQRALMJepFHL/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+June+2015+-+%252317+tattoo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX_pEL_iOLKdx3FUPATQAiL8q8yQYJ_C2q3UeqfFJIsvbxmWu3-gljybhLF696P-XvPENcMNAkAYCEN8VOOc2dloxqkA-VuAWfi0Fr_TZ_sDxgK_DnyFaGdcuI7XoKPK7tPQRALMJepFHL/s200/Ted+Farr+Media+-+June+2015+-+%252317+tattoo.JPG" width="153" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was
an elite athlete in both hockey and lacrosse. It was lacrosse that provided him
the opportunity to earn his university degree. He was such a good player (and
the first Canadian to play at his school) that he became known by his number - 17. I honour him now by having his team logo and his number permanently inked on
the outside of my left calf. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His school was Limestone College in Gaffney South Carolina. The team nickname is The Saints. This logo is the one they used from the beginning of the program until it was changed a few years ago.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">For Terrie, the artwork decision wasn’t so obvious</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5is8iafmRaPVWsYq55_6_EcwW51Yqb8V4bneuzH1pGgVMKoAgH7PrJiSRLiD7BTgcIPocJUFrRaT5Eqz8a9OP2b9hIHIaFztSx4K5SoCxInpvcvVJ7OiL5QQTdxJMRJQsYwir4FA_l8JV/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+June+2015+-+Terrie+tattoo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5is8iafmRaPVWsYq55_6_EcwW51Yqb8V4bneuzH1pGgVMKoAgH7PrJiSRLiD7BTgcIPocJUFrRaT5Eqz8a9OP2b9hIHIaFztSx4K5SoCxInpvcvVJ7OiL5QQTdxJMRJQsYwir4FA_l8JV/s200/Ted+Farr+Media+-+June+2015+-+Terrie+tattoo.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She
wanted his name on her body. She wanted an image that made her believe our son
is always with her. She wanted the tattoo in a spot where she could easily see
it but could still be seen by someone else. She wanted something simple but not
a stylized heart. She looked at hundreds of images and fonts for the letters.
Nothing was giving her that special feeling. Then it hit her, a mother’s hand
holding a child’s hand. And, my wife’s handwriting is better than any font she
had seen. She wrote out our son’s name and the artist drew the hands. The
combination is now tattooed on the inside of her left arm.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">An experience of a lifetime</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi787uOzjBWHfjnDhXiiHDwxBZ6kqfonf9KFIOY6wcRUps51zMkQv00ilckw8Eva1z84JJefBydA2TzMeJ_js_PMEqMT_1RGCTwFxK-xuazVT6P00V-_wg1IaHeF_urGtBEbbPX7fXnsvPx/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+May+2015+-+TnT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi787uOzjBWHfjnDhXiiHDwxBZ6kqfonf9KFIOY6wcRUps51zMkQv00ilckw8Eva1z84JJefBydA2TzMeJ_js_PMEqMT_1RGCTwFxK-xuazVT6P00V-_wg1IaHeF_urGtBEbbPX7fXnsvPx/s200/Ted+Farr+Media+-+May+2015+-+TnT.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Here we are, husband and wife, 40 plus years of marriage, both
in our 60’s, going to a tattoo studio where the artist loaded his gun with
various inks and we paid him to cause us pain for an hour each. Yes it hurts
but we’re happy about it. The needles came in sealed bags. All surfaces were
scrubbed with antiseptic solution as we watched. There was a sterilizer unit
right there on the desk and he wore rubber gloves. He also rides a motorcycle
which speaking of stereotypes may be one of the oldest. Back in the day, the
40’s, 50’s and 60’s, the only people you ever saw with tattoos were sailors,
former convicts, motorcycle gang members and sideshow freaks.<br />
<br />
There’s an old
joke (not a very funny one at that) about getting a tattoo, riding a Harley
Davidson and scaring small children.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">There are still people who get tattoos for shock value</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Others
would call them “statements”. Our tattoo artist told us that the oldest person
he has ever inked was an 82 year old woman. She lived in a nearby old folks
home. She had him design and ink a snake, wrapped around her ankle and up the
side of her leg. She delighted in showing the other folk at the home her risky,
crazy, sexy side. Good for her and us and you.<br />
<br />
We may be well over 50 but we’re
not dead yet.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-39760945607823374222015-05-11T11:55:00.002-07:002015-05-12T07:23:19.909-07:00Is Procrastination a Collector Item?<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHIyoPuH1k7IqKMhOR5SFlOqDWweX9-L-wKPTgchUOVudMyFvAO7C-ftvqMRRRjAlr4HT4dQJIpQqJdo23U6feJO7VqMPlQqmmZPzgoxgC6bLoiSrCbBgcqxYsgppTvagcud3-NMXsBr3N/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+glotch4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHIyoPuH1k7IqKMhOR5SFlOqDWweX9-L-wKPTgchUOVudMyFvAO7C-ftvqMRRRjAlr4HT4dQJIpQqJdo23U6feJO7VqMPlQqmmZPzgoxgC6bLoiSrCbBgcqxYsgppTvagcud3-NMXsBr3N/s200/Ted+Farr+Media+-+glotch4.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Assorted office glotch</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Our daughter calls it “assorted glotch”. In crossword
puzzles it’s “olio”. My favourite word for it is “stuff” or for the very
special things, “really good stuff”.<br />
<br />
Most of us have secret collections hidden from view somewhere.
Perhaps you have a drawer in the kitchen or a box in the garage. Maybe it’s
your night stand or a foot stool, in a closet or under a bed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
You might be one of those people really good at throwing things out. I'm not! I'm also lousy at admitting to anyone that I might have a "small" problem.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Let me explain my
mania</span></b><br />
<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU0RWTnmCeHtlxcYGvGdeLAIVOazF_CVM8UI9OhsLOg7ak2C1tvjPgeg_Zwr_PBTmHYKf3Vf0pG7NtQUlmWPpvST7KecjlnVS_A64tKHuDQ2lNk4J5YYh59O0dM51XlTNZ5k8t5SF_FF52/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+glotch1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU0RWTnmCeHtlxcYGvGdeLAIVOazF_CVM8UI9OhsLOg7ak2C1tvjPgeg_Zwr_PBTmHYKf3Vf0pG7NtQUlmWPpvST7KecjlnVS_A64tKHuDQ2lNk4J5YYh59O0dM51XlTNZ5k8t5SF_FF52/s200/Ted+Farr+Media+-+glotch1.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My nightstand drawer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My stuff is cleverly stashed in my night stand, a drawer in
my home office and a drawer in the kitchen. But there are also boxes and
cupboards and hooks holding really good stuff in the garage and in the furnace room.<br />
<br />
Hooks are a junk collector's best friend. It's amazing how much really good stuff can be suspended from rafters and studs. Once bagged and hung, you can forget about whatever it is for years. Yes, I have more than one collection of maybe I’ll need it one day items.<br />
<br /><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">For example</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
I have at least five watches. Own, yes. Wear,
no. None of them work because they long
ago needed batteries and I never did get to a battery store. For a while, as
one stopped ticking, I’d switch to the next. Then one day all the ticking
stopped. Besides, my smartphone tells me everything I need to know whenever my
wife lets me check it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How many dried up fifty cent pens does a person really need?
And, why hold on to them along with pencils that haven’t been sharpened and bits
of crayon? Oh, and can you imagine another use for those white plastic thingy’s
that close up bags of bread. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have three stacks of business cards for people at
companies I've never called. Business cards are a good way to use some of those
elastics saved from daily newspaper delivery. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I must have half a dozen out of date cell phones because
what will you do if you lose or break the one you’re using now? This is a
misguided interpretation of having a back-up plan. Or, the procrastinators way
of saying I’ll take them to recycling one day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-kSgliGsqEccHSCvLzsloxvBEw0iafIGK9Ax8vr2KBKJxeSjOMZJsT52FJYjvuB_36MnBElwW3E11fiixHg6wy3oBzxFyItFgDXQBpNebVLj5jTbn9o2MD_gSvULNZjPFOnNTft30zXv/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+glotch3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-kSgliGsqEccHSCvLzsloxvBEw0iafIGK9Ax8vr2KBKJxeSjOMZJsT52FJYjvuB_36MnBElwW3E11fiixHg6wy3oBzxFyItFgDXQBpNebVLj5jTbn9o2MD_gSvULNZjPFOnNTft30zXv/s200/Ted+Farr+Media+-+glotch3.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Really good garage stuff</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Nuts, bolts, buttons, screws, various nails (some of them
bent), worn out or broken tools, a few dead batteries, some rat poison (because
you just don’t know when the rats will invade), several hundred wine corks for that
do it yourself project you never did do (collecting those was fun), cans of
this and jars of that, nearly empty cans and bottles of spray something or
other because you don’t want to waste anything, a handful of old Playboy
magazines (saved for the really good articles you plan to read again someday),
every badge, medal or certificate your kids ever received in school or sports
(they don’t even want them), a hubcap from a car you wish you still owned, dozens
of rags and old tea towels carefully preserved in Safeway bags hanging on a
bent nail.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAxWkfFCzk8NUsSfHRxZV8GRjxhM3MUbAfA2Xrq3Jeib-4p1o7Sg45hnr8zz0HufVH-urmsWZdlPfPd66U7w67RWHonmTtywcg03rMirk_1X9n_5qmJEUN0BlAyCrpaPstxYm0OtMiMaz/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+glotch2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAxWkfFCzk8NUsSfHRxZV8GRjxhM3MUbAfA2Xrq3Jeib-4p1o7Sg45hnr8zz0HufVH-urmsWZdlPfPd66U7w67RWHonmTtywcg03rMirk_1X9n_5qmJEUN0BlAyCrpaPstxYm0OtMiMaz/s200/Ted+Farr+Media+-+glotch2.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Retired hockey equipment</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And then there's the long since retired sports equipment in case you decide to make a
comeback, miscellaneous parts for miscellaneous appliances, plumbing,
electrical and sprinkler systems (mostly from homes you sold years ago), bits and
pieces of lumber (for those other do-it-yourself projects) and my favourite,
all the things you still believe might be worth something someday (collector
items to be sold on one of those internet sites if you had the time to figure
out how). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">I am a shining example of a guy with excuses</span></b><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRx-mi-xfXPjpvUAe3H0TrF9FI5aB4Wt8_lVK-2sJR13CYsSfukTPrbVIDSE4lyYGHL0j2WCGlbFdmdDcmu99Hv7IFN0FHsZ-CAInnx09NH74vKGq8NCbcePbiImwrfqIJa2AHO77jLqAi/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+glotch5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRx-mi-xfXPjpvUAe3H0TrF9FI5aB4Wt8_lVK-2sJR13CYsSfukTPrbVIDSE4lyYGHL0j2WCGlbFdmdDcmu99Hv7IFN0FHsZ-CAInnx09NH74vKGq8NCbcePbiImwrfqIJa2AHO77jLqAi/s200/Ted+Farr+Media+-+glotch5.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Electronic glotch</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Every year we
have spring clean-up and every year I find a reason to hang on to my stuff when
logic and proportion are screaming “stop that right now”. But I have laughed at the proliferation of uncontrolled
glotch until now. I no longer want to do-it-myself. If something needs to be
painted or repaired there’s a specialist for that. We've reached an age when downsizing
is no longer a story in a magazine. It’s a lifestyle change we’re actually
planning to make. Or, we can sit on the deck with a glass of wine and think
about this some more. Procrastination just might be a collector item.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
PS. I write a column for a magazine called <a href="http://www.northof50.com/" target="_blank"><b>North of 50</b></a>, published monthly in the Okanagan Valley. A version of Is Procrastination a Collector Item appeared in the May issue.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-66340314383102066672015-05-05T10:04:00.000-07:002015-05-05T10:12:30.347-07:00Are You a Guy Baby?<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioKA1SRe0rSMwtZnTi6qVa8DKF-y0Iu2FGke7ek9mylsLmJqQhOcxEi_afLaa_tt6eZ1wsIgCK5JCNHw6_3cvdW6t_b8eHZI70x_HX2tDrj_2OXLO0cbvYOg6azA74Usegbx9yEbYzGRyH/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+cry+baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioKA1SRe0rSMwtZnTi6qVa8DKF-y0Iu2FGke7ek9mylsLmJqQhOcxEi_afLaa_tt6eZ1wsIgCK5JCNHw6_3cvdW6t_b8eHZI70x_HX2tDrj_2OXLO0cbvYOg6azA74Usegbx9yEbYzGRyH/s200/Ted+Farr+Media+-+cry+baby.jpg" width="172" /></a></div>
I am and I’m not ashamed. There are no group support
meetings for certified, card carrying, life-long Guy Babies. You can easily
recognize the symptoms. Guys, please answer these questions truthfully.<br />
<br />
</div>
<ol start="1" style="margin-top: 0cm;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;">Do you pop a pill at the slightest ache?</li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;">Do you want everyone to know when you aren't feeling well?<o:p></o:p></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;">Do you hate even the sight of a needle?<o:p></o:p></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;">Do you go to the dentist less often than you should?<o:p></o:p></li>
<li class="MsoNormal">Do you avoid your yearly
physical because you fear the lube and the rubber glove?<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p></li>
</ol>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you answered yes to at least three of the questions, you
might be a Guy Baby too. Just ask your wife or your significant other. They
never lie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;">
The exception is sports</span></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicIpjutvUpWfCXZsrSogN_ghuqQxLuN6mAAl6CwDQmX5tvxjaJhDV5tcaG6Cd0300f6WRDSVoayONYtNoR81BEI6YLCQJaUGA9EvrbbQzafwoI1fFz6MyhwDauf_A10ulpBtUNicQE2Vcl/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+sports+injuries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicIpjutvUpWfCXZsrSogN_ghuqQxLuN6mAAl6CwDQmX5tvxjaJhDV5tcaG6Cd0300f6WRDSVoayONYtNoR81BEI6YLCQJaUGA9EvrbbQzafwoI1fFz6MyhwDauf_A10ulpBtUNicQE2Vcl/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+sports+injuries.jpg" /></a></div>
When hurt during a
game of any kind, the injury is like a badge screaming “look at me”. Whatever
happens in the hospital, the doctor’s office or in the dentist’s chair becomes
a key part of the tale.<br />
<br />
Since none of this was ever reported officially and actual
eyewitnesses have long since forgotten my piddly-assed bobos, embellishment is of
course allowed.<br />
<br />
After-all, these are manly tales we tell.<o:p></o:p></div>
<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;">
Lessons learned</span></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Limping is good for generating sympathy. It is especially
good if the ankle sprain happened while jumping for a loose ball in a pickup
basketball game (up against a guy at least twice your size). Of course, this freak
of nature used to play college ball for UBC. It doesn't matter how much it
hurts, you get to wear a tensor bandage and use ice bags to take down the
swelling. Besides the doctor told you to keep your foot elevated so at work
that means on your desk. Curious co-workers will most definitely ask what
happened.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuRqBsRdgeEdrX6LQC4o2CTz9V1gXGonUZN1dZ6Bw3UgUkxfbtOWzGIoJLiY3qulVCOfu60Hj7wMoDtLWKwqTX_5h6K14yQWQ3Vs3ZOpB0XUIO4UNV9cP09GoCX-HVmCTWLhzpaYLvgaA/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+elbow+injury.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuRqBsRdgeEdrX6LQC4o2CTz9V1gXGonUZN1dZ6Bw3UgUkxfbtOWzGIoJLiY3qulVCOfu60Hj7wMoDtLWKwqTX_5h6K14yQWQ3Vs3ZOpB0XUIO4UNV9cP09GoCX-HVmCTWLhzpaYLvgaA/s200/Ted+Farr+Media+-+elbow+injury.gif" width="200" /></a></div>
A sling invites all the right questions even though you can
barely bend your arm. That sack of water on your elbow is actually a good thing.
Why? Because you can tell the story of charging hard into a corner during an old-timers
hockey game only to have the skates pulled out from under you by some wimp of
an opponent who couldn't stop you
otherwise. As you crumpled in a heap your pad shifted to the side and you smashed
your elbow into the ice. It doesn't matter if the cortisone shots are given
with a needle, you have a story to tell.<br />
<br />
Crutches are a wonderful conversation starter. You are
honoured to wear the cast on your lower leg since you scored the winning run in
a co-ed slo-pitch softball game. You were sliding into home when the other
team’s catcher tried to tag you out. She fell on your leg and boom, a cracked
ankle bone. The hours in emergency and the inconvenience are tolerated because you
have a story to tell. That catcher played major women’s fastball. She was very
good and besides, everybody wants to sign your cast.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6I04pwfZUvP_vViDF3aHNwqiIGXNw6LBKg9Ji7sH0Oqkm_a-rMni90SORcgGuMw0yhZFPJvLTcnIGs1FNac7efs268fXv6HfaJY8p-fkPvYIxdYMTG5dOlSsQ3C8FKJ4R66jxmSd1R0Ox/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+slapshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6I04pwfZUvP_vViDF3aHNwqiIGXNw6LBKg9Ji7sH0Oqkm_a-rMni90SORcgGuMw0yhZFPJvLTcnIGs1FNac7efs268fXv6HfaJY8p-fkPvYIxdYMTG5dOlSsQ3C8FKJ4R66jxmSd1R0Ox/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+slapshot.jpg" /></a></div>
It doesn't matter that your leg is black, blue, yellow and
green from your toes to your knee and you have to take a week off work because
you can’t walk. You can explain that you took a slapshot in the skate during a
game that was supposed to be played by old-timers rules. You know the ones….no
hitting and no slap shots. It was summer pick-up hockey and the guy who took
the shot was out for some extra ice. He was actually a pro with years in the
NHL and his slapshot put you on the injury list for two months. But, how many recreational
hockey players do you know who can say they went to the hospital for x-rays and
winced for weeks because of an NHL frickin’ player?<br />
<br />
It’s always better to explain that the two discoloured teeth
at the front of your smile came as a result of being accidentally hit in the
mouth by a tennis racquet. All you need to say is that it was a particularly
intense doubles match. You don’t have to give details even though the whack in
the Chiclets was self-inflicted after you tripped over a hole in the outdoor
court while chasing a baseline shot from your opponents. But you could, because
it’s a good story and the root canal didn't bother you that much.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When something happens to you during a game, it’s immediate.
You don’t have the time to think and anticipate. You go to the hospital or the
doctor as quickly as possible. Any hurt you experience while playing a sport is
always mitigated by the story.<o:p></o:p><br />
<h2>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Life stuff is different</span></b></h2>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are appointments to be made. Your brain conjures up
all sorts of negativity. Often, there’s the waiting. Our Medicare system does
operate in slow motion it seems. You can
only imagine what your brain says when you find a lump in your neck and begin
the journey to find out what it is. Months later, the diagnosis is finally
complete.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After 60 years of the usual minor ailments and dental work
along with the sports related stories, I’m the one who got cancer at the age of
62. But, I’m certainly not the only one as 3 in 5 Canadians will experience
cancer during their lives. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The treatments worked. I was declared cancer free. Now I
share the story and the lessons learned as a mentor for the Canadian Cancer
Society.<o:p></o:p></div>
<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;">
I've earned my Guy Baby credentials</span></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I consider myself a cancer graduate and I am long since “retired”
from my athletic career. If I moan or wince because of some malady or minor
surgery, I don’t want sympathy. In fact, I’d rather you not know about it. I
recently had a hernia repaired. The pain killers helped me tolerate the
discomfort. I am no longer a pill popper
because I don’t want prescription drugs clouding my faculties. I also now have
a home office so very few people saw me struggle to stand or sit or walk while
the incision healed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Besides, life stuff is not sexy like the slapshot in the
foot from the NHL player.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
PS. I write a column for a magazine called <a href="http://www.northof50.com/" target="_blank"><b>North of 50</b></a>, published monthly in the Okanagan Valley. A version of Are You a Guy Baby appeared in the April issue.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-5401810141961119722015-03-29T09:36:00.000-07:002015-03-29T17:11:24.833-07:00It's Official<div class="MsoNormal">
I've decided that the two best words in the English language
are “clean” and “cured”. </div>
There are plenty of other decent words for a variety
of situations, but clean and cured are mine for now. I realize that I’m being
selfish so criticize my actions all you want. I’m also claiming the French translations
(we are supposed to embrace the bilingual laws of the land aren't we?).<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJAPo62_aeR0r5dZjgwtu19D534clD7CIBkWJ45nz47dnMSeSxvkkubqMFyb9jmiTsAQJJ_o8cGGIA1NtJ7yd-VtHigcg0ERivuWKZk4uX9kumJxYo-1q3NhEsHFLdFh6jzbuL3OFjkvDn/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+lottery+win.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJAPo62_aeR0r5dZjgwtu19D534clD7CIBkWJ45nz47dnMSeSxvkkubqMFyb9jmiTsAQJJ_o8cGGIA1NtJ7yd-VtHigcg0ERivuWKZk4uX9kumJxYo-1q3NhEsHFLdFh6jzbuL3OFjkvDn/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+lottery+win.jpg" height="200" width="142" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-indent: 36pt;">gueri</span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">= cured</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-indent: 36pt;">pur = clean</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-indent: 36pt;">propre = uncontaminated</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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In this case, I’m “gueri et pur” or “gueri et propre” (my
fractured version of French translation). I’ll take either one. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you've had
cancer, those words are better than winning the lottery. Although winning the
lottery would ensure that the celebration continues for years (mostly in
foreign countries), not just a night or two with family, friends and a bottle
of Single Malt Scotch.<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Rewind to February 23, 2010</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was day one of what were brutal radiation and
chemotherapy treatments for a stage four cancer. I had a tumour the size of a
quarter on the base of my tongue. The bastard disease had spread to a lymph node
by the time I discovered the lump. The medical community in the Kelowna area confirmed
the diagnosis and designed the treatment plan with the warning that they would
make me very sick in order for me to get better again. The oncologist didn't
lie. The treatments included 35 sessions with the radiation machine and 3 rounds
of the most toxic chemo cocktails available.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Fast forward to March 25, 2015</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3eqy2W5gkRxDq_iraVcdewRIxZIapYyzDUZXqbsSLJEWjY6JtXWSWcXoO73mct2_r-ux5DqbrWEJIV8AhF39h7JhewP4y-bllgtxHesrxQXg-GlpAVBUSNYMxfh0O7N7iWMFUKR5W7KyK/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Buzz+Lightyear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3eqy2W5gkRxDq_iraVcdewRIxZIapYyzDUZXqbsSLJEWjY6JtXWSWcXoO73mct2_r-ux5DqbrWEJIV8AhF39h7JhewP4y-bllgtxHesrxQXg-GlpAVBUSNYMxfh0O7N7iWMFUKR5W7KyK/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Buzz+Lightyear.jpg" height="200" width="140" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Five years without a recurrence is like a magic potion for
both the doctors and the patient. Make it to five and the odds are pretty good
that you’ll make it to ten or more. When the oncologist uses the words clean
and cured in her final check-up and then hugs you, it’s a little like the
character BUZZ LIGHTYEAR in the movie Toy Story proclaiming loudly, “to
infinity and beyond”. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my case,
infinity was a Tuesday in 2010 when the last drip of chemo entered my body and
the last zap of radiation burned my throat and beyond is every day since plus
every day yet to come.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">And then there are medical advancements</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Cancer used to be a guaranteed death sentence. The mere
sound of the word sent you running to the nearest lawyer to write a will and to
the bank to put your financial affairs in order. Certainly there are still
cancers that few people survive. But for so many others, including me and my
friends Mac, Lyle and Rina to name just three, the combination of our destinies
and the work of the doctors has resulted in several more years of fascinating our
nieces, nephews and grandchildren with tales of our exploits (yes I really did
walk up hill both ways to school in three feet of snow).<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>We have it pretty easy</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are officially cancer graduates. My friends and I
celebrate each milestone. It’s like being handed an extra birthday or two in
every year. If there’s a message to pass along to others it’s this. Cancer
changes your priorities. We can no longer answer the question “where do you
want to be in five years”, because we no longer care. We’re
too busy enjoying the next five minutes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh there was a time way back in 1983
when I was proud of my 3 and 5 year plans where my goals were articulated and
convincing for assorted bosses and eager students in lecture halls. Today, my
goal is to make the most of every minute (whatever that may mean), eat well, love
well, enjoy a good Scotch and then have a good night’s sleep. We have achieved
the new normal. By definition, the new normal isn't what it was and that’s
okay.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I’m not this guy<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHCv-wJh2Nbmb-nrJ4CYLtAUYcFZqUUxvFo5u7QuxpKsGkiR_5jrz6ZuvDnRO0Xo16wLgPvNfOcCqgEZqdWUIguyqz8AgKXa_norr0YfB59sVASfXDIBxpp_rCFCaeUdMYPZKseVAYD4Fx/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Garden+Gnome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHCv-wJh2Nbmb-nrJ4CYLtAUYcFZqUUxvFo5u7QuxpKsGkiR_5jrz6ZuvDnRO0Xo16wLgPvNfOcCqgEZqdWUIguyqz8AgKXa_norr0YfB59sVASfXDIBxpp_rCFCaeUdMYPZKseVAYD4Fx/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Garden+Gnome.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Woe is who? Well it’s not me. I know that because I Googled
my name on the Internet and it produced several pictures of me with a smile on
my face and my cars and BUZZ LIGHTYEAR. The dictionary synonyms for “woe” are misery,
sorrow, distress, wretchedness, sadness, unhappiness, heartache, heartbreak,
despondency, despair, depression, regret, gloom and melancholy. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I much prefer
the battle cry of Mr. LIGHTYEAR, “to infinity and beyond” (we’re like brothers
you know). Everything about my life as a
cancer graduate is so much better than the alternative.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-78406707531186264952015-02-19T10:47:00.003-08:002015-02-22T15:35:15.069-08:00Fantasies and Fandom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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</div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixMcl3Op59WR4BY-5_wzuVylH_-Mzo_PXgPU5fy_uE9YfijFJKVcIMYgnbZpzf7g6G1mV1DPjNBhaRvkk3SIEuEYQxASlONz9XnRCW2YwLtsZ2TZWnsbIIacg20-Er3-aYXIUYqPRT0Ha1/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+%231+fan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixMcl3Op59WR4BY-5_wzuVylH_-Mzo_PXgPU5fy_uE9YfijFJKVcIMYgnbZpzf7g6G1mV1DPjNBhaRvkk3SIEuEYQxASlONz9XnRCW2YwLtsZ2TZWnsbIIacg20-Er3-aYXIUYqPRT0Ha1/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+%231+fan.jpg" height="200" width="155" /></a></div>
Most of us have favourite teams and favourite players. Even those
who say they have no interest in sports often have a favourite team, usually
hockey. This is Canada after all.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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There are the teams and players in the sports you follow and
then there are the sports you played or wish you’d played.</div>
<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="font-size: x-large;">Fan for life</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t study the stats like I once did and haven’t been to
an actual game of anything in several years. Still, I catch the televised highlights 2 –
3 nights a week, watch my favourite NFL teams and catch the occasional hockey
game. Playoffs still capture my attention. The Stanley Cup, the Grey Cup, the
Superbowl and the World Series remain on my must watch list.<br />
<br />
The first ever NHL
game I saw on TV was in 1955, the Toronto Maple Leafs against the Detroit Red
Wings. It was Hockey Night in Canada with Foster Hewitt. The first ever NHL
game I saw in person was at Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto. I’d go a few times every
season with my Dad in the late 50’s and early 60’s. We’d buy standing room
tickets as high as you could go without sitting in the play by play booth beside
Foster. Is it any wonder that I am a Maple Leaf fan to this day?<br />
<br />
I have a soft
spot for the Saskatchewan Roughriders of the CFL. In the NFL, I’m a Baltimore
Ravens fan. In major league baseball, it’s the damn Yankees. Wish I still had
my Mickey Mantle card from the 50’s. Sadly, it fell victim to the spokes in the rear wheel of my bicycle. Seven year olds don't think much about tomorrow when they're having fun today.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZKb04Es6nt8s3ZjLig9s4voz936w_bZKCznSCGqkruculnaGus-USppjoPpYPvRaGu6ziXyzWaNh-t9BPo5evYRoBw-YJCZNjfuuf_2NfTEZfa13gRzWzcvTtcwOChXuhQN7-U7jdpRtD/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+1953-Topps-Baseball-Mickey-Mantle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZKb04Es6nt8s3ZjLig9s4voz936w_bZKCznSCGqkruculnaGus-USppjoPpYPvRaGu6ziXyzWaNh-t9BPo5evYRoBw-YJCZNjfuuf_2NfTEZfa13gRzWzcvTtcwOChXuhQN7-U7jdpRtD/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+1953-Topps-Baseball-Mickey-Mantle.jpg" height="400" width="271" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Sports played and coached</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<ul>
<li>for me it was high school football and basketball</li>
<li>college basketball in two countries</li>
<li>community and rep hockey until age 12</li>
<li>old
timers for 20 years</li>
<li>a little baseball as a kid and a lot of slow pitch as an
adult</li>
<li>out on the golf course once in a while</li>
<li>certified high school coach in basketball and
football thanks to the courses I took toward a degree in Physical Education</li>
<li>coached community hockey, lacrosse and soccer when our
kids were young</li>
<li>and sat on many sports committees and boards of directors</li>
</ul>
<b style="font-size: x-large;">Lacrosse fantasy</b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If I could go back and redo my sports career, I’d play lacrosse. I learned to love the sport. The fastest game on two feet they
say. It’s rough and high skilled.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJRMphi8Yd3NXsDdUZSlZrolxPt3QUy500ejGZ1HRqhXz0aAR16_DzvRgP7woPhYQQL2a3mF1Q6Dwty3OPsNmYs5nQbFA8LNjhknHdL94FHjH8yCyuEiuNm3m8l7QzkAEpgTMbrmfZUE6/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+%2317+up+close.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJRMphi8Yd3NXsDdUZSlZrolxPt3QUy500ejGZ1HRqhXz0aAR16_DzvRgP7woPhYQQL2a3mF1Q6Dwty3OPsNmYs5nQbFA8LNjhknHdL94FHjH8yCyuEiuNm3m8l7QzkAEpgTMbrmfZUE6/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+%2317+up+close.png" height="269" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
Our son loved it too. He went all the way to
the Junior A leagues in box lacrosse. His stick skill and scoring ability
earned him a scholarship at <a href="http://www.golimestonesaints.com/index.aspx?path=mlax" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: blue;">Limestone College</span></b></a> in South Carolina. <span style="color: blue;"><a href="http://www.tedfarrmedia.com/2011/09/if-you-couldnt-play-tomorrow-how-hard.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;"><b>He was the first Canadian to play there.</b></span></a> </span>His success is credited for the school recruiting heavily in Canada to this day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I got hooked on lacrosse watching <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Westminster_Salmonbellies" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;"><b>the Salmonbellies play at Queen’s Park Arena in New Westminster BC</b></span></a>. The Salmonbellies are one of the
oldest continuous sports clubs in the country. Their history dates back to the
1800’s. <a href="http://www.canadianlacrossehalloffame.org/" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: blue;">The Canadian Lacrosse Hall of Fame</span></b></a> is filled with “Bellies”. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I was lucky enough to see these guys play</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC5q2WNzxdIwC4RG2LAalhuSHLqqfLk07tsiShpxDSljfrITR9MjmVRyX_NHl4XPuDYZyZ7lr4H1VLCnbLzEdbWs684xDQAQWh5EX6LWr-LrlEwFMfSemzPDmd2XV1jGb6Wb1PExYz2iCb/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Wayne+Goss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC5q2WNzxdIwC4RG2LAalhuSHLqqfLk07tsiShpxDSljfrITR9MjmVRyX_NHl4XPuDYZyZ7lr4H1VLCnbLzEdbWs684xDQAQWh5EX6LWr-LrlEwFMfSemzPDmd2XV1jGb6Wb1PExYz2iCb/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Wayne+Goss.jpg" height="400" width="275" /></a></div>
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<b>Wayne Goss</b> – played Senior A Box Lacrosse for 14 years. At the
time of his retirement, Wayne held 41 Western Lacrosse Association scoring and
face-off records and shared four others. He won 6 Mann Cups as a member of the
New Westminster Salmonbellies. Over his career, he scored 812 goal and 1,040
assists for 1,852 total points. Goss was inducted into the Canadian Lacrosse
Hall of Fame in 1986.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGvqmuw9aAmb5UFd989TBuhVdZUjD1LknynLeqnbGrP-bNCX2ZjMY8sHfRAPoPdCUJ1PKGhthWUKzBDyUadT5BXRS8cH7PNQ0a0942zHO6AQGQk9SPZaf9Ptf2jYyvRwfiTrKvocTDa4VL/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Paul+Parnell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGvqmuw9aAmb5UFd989TBuhVdZUjD1LknynLeqnbGrP-bNCX2ZjMY8sHfRAPoPdCUJ1PKGhthWUKzBDyUadT5BXRS8cH7PNQ0a0942zHO6AQGQk9SPZaf9Ptf2jYyvRwfiTrKvocTDa4VL/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Paul+Parnell.jpg" height="400" width="275" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Paul Parnell</b> – was a Salmonbellie for 15 years, retiring
after the 1975 season. Paul was inducted into the Canadian Lacrosse Hall of
Fame in 1980. He won five Mann Cups with the Bellies. When his career was over,
he laid claim to 23 longevity and scoring records in the Western Lacrosse
Association. In 1968, lacrosse went professional as the National Lacrosse
League. There were four teams in the east and four in the west including New
Westminster. The Bellies won the first ever pro championship and Parnell was
one of the stars.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1J8t2VeiX35H6DDbUkbAn14u7InNK_8bohhWzTvWbizIPHKpS4jxd7RkIgXvPAgrZ1OmOJC1v5PqMBpZYIte5a-HIFrTVG045eE59qUXXSpIGeT6ccWdpmmaPmipXbfoFPyALI6x0kAx7/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Dave+Durante.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1J8t2VeiX35H6DDbUkbAn14u7InNK_8bohhWzTvWbizIPHKpS4jxd7RkIgXvPAgrZ1OmOJC1v5PqMBpZYIte5a-HIFrTVG045eE59qUXXSpIGeT6ccWdpmmaPmipXbfoFPyALI6x0kAx7/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Dave+Durante.jpg" height="400" width="278" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Dave Durante</b> – was a Salmonbellie for 12 years but began his
WLA career with the Coquitlam Adanacs. He retired in 1991. Dave played 552
regular season and playoff games in Senior A. He scored 609 goals, 900 assists
for a total of 1,509 points. Durante also played professional lacrosse in the
original National Lacrosse League as a member of the Quebec Caribous. In 60 NLL
league and playoff games he totalled 242 points. Dave was inducted into the
Canadian Lacrosse Hall of Fame in 1997.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9RIV_sFs1jAzz6ZThFxDYCqiA-l39UKOE4g-jPYZuHE4mI31KYhJZdgdBnKWo0JM8yierGhFPMALHayxt-A_8zn_1PtYu6rtkThdciV4TmhzYb4EhCKT38LI0ph8Qe-V4rMCJdb3wLKp/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Geordie+Dean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9RIV_sFs1jAzz6ZThFxDYCqiA-l39UKOE4g-jPYZuHE4mI31KYhJZdgdBnKWo0JM8yierGhFPMALHayxt-A_8zn_1PtYu6rtkThdciV4TmhzYb4EhCKT38LI0ph8Qe-V4rMCJdb3wLKp/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Geordie+Dean.jpg" height="400" width="281" /></a></div>
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<b>Geordie Dean</b> – was known as both an outstanding offensive
and defensive player. He played 506 games as a Salmonbellie scoring 569 goals,
843 assists for a total of 1,412 points. His teams won the Mann Cup three
times. Geordie was also rated as one of Canada’s top field lacrosse players. He
was a midfielder for the National Team in beginning in 1985. Dean played in
three world championships between 1986 and 1994. He was inducted into the
Canadian Lacrosse Hall of Fame in 2003.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR305JLGPWQKuagfncuPUPg6fyqI8pCBUxyFFZeXbCd-gNTeM8dRYO8gKw1Gya77ISDLaBuJ1HT1D8wVeD4plF-If5jBAsu3pu_L4p8-g3GUUk5qfOvePMFo13zWlTzYzuuefkVuhHzGuU/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Eric+Cowieson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR305JLGPWQKuagfncuPUPg6fyqI8pCBUxyFFZeXbCd-gNTeM8dRYO8gKw1Gya77ISDLaBuJ1HT1D8wVeD4plF-If5jBAsu3pu_L4p8-g3GUUk5qfOvePMFo13zWlTzYzuuefkVuhHzGuU/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Eric+Cowieson.jpg" height="400" width="275" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Eric Cowieson</b> – was a Salmonbellie from the beginning of his
career until his retirement in 1995. He was team captain or 13 of those
seasons. Eric totalled 1,045 points on
385 goals and 660 assists. He won the Mann Cup four times and was named Mann
Cup MVP in 1987. Cowieson was inducted into the Canadian Lacrosse Hall of Fame
in 2001. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-27841680429509742672015-02-12T12:47:00.000-08:002015-05-05T11:34:59.773-07:00The Trouble with Tallness<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t remember being shorter than my homeroom teacher in
the grade 9 class photo, but I was. By the end of grade 10 I was a hockey stick
with hair, skinny as a rail yet coordinated enough to make the Juvenile Basketball Team and then the Junior Basketball Team at Oakwood Collegiate in Toronto.</div>
<br />
I played my final year of high school basketball as a starter for the Senior Boys Team at Vancouver Technical Secondary. This team picture is from Oakwood Collegiate in 1965.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigUwyjk4bSiXdCYUT1cfG7351e8mWa63TjS2RKf742b4n60QfrwNUFDI5PaG5HaGleoYNE0Fr0LYQa3pBr38t7EHPxtMcbdnu6sebXQ4NhU0ZUz-5iGggInimrIK3VhIXeV4aXIYj7jN8C/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Oakwood+Basketball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigUwyjk4bSiXdCYUT1cfG7351e8mWa63TjS2RKf742b4n60QfrwNUFDI5PaG5HaGleoYNE0Fr0LYQa3pBr38t7EHPxtMcbdnu6sebXQ4NhU0ZUz-5iGggInimrIK3VhIXeV4aXIYj7jN8C/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Oakwood+Basketball.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
But, being tall isn't everything it’s cracked up
to be.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The legs on your pants were never long enough</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<ul>
<li>And the arms
on shirts were always too short.</li>
<li>Even when you
did get a pair of pants with leg length, one wash in the hands of your mother
and the shrinkage showed off your socks. Cold washing in her world was what you
did when camping.</li>
<li>There were
no stores specializing in clothes for tall people back in the day. It didn't
matter anyway. When outlets like Mr. Big and Tall surfaced, you were still inches
too skinny for their smallest waste size.</li>
<li>In sports,
hockey pants were too short and so were shin pads. Hockey sticks never had to
be cut down. Me, I just bent over more.</li>
<li>The women I
was attracted to were often a foot shorter than me or more. I just never met
many tall girls in high school.</li>
<li>What about
banging your head? Sometimes even doorways were so short you had to duck. The
worst places were basements and stairwells. Did you take to wearing hats to
cover your injuries? I did.</li>
<li>Beds with
foot-boards were a huge pain. There was nowhere to go but kitty corner.</li>
<li>Are your
legs long enough that you turn many 4-seat vehicles into 3-seaters? To
accommodate my leg length the seat is pushed back to its limit. In many vehicles,
there isn't enough room behind me for even a child.</li>
<li>And don’t talk to a tall person about leg room on airplanes.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We haven’t even touched on the troubles of tallness that are
unique to women.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>You’re so tall! Did you play basketball</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, I did. At 6’4”, I wasn't the tallest player in the high
school leagues but I was close. I've always said I should've been either 2
inches taller or 2 inches shorter. Had I been 6’6”, my university basketball
career would've lasted longer. More on that in a minute, and had I been 6’2”, I
would've been able to buy pants that fit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This tall person took to basketball easily. I played through
high school in both Toronto and Vancouver. I was good enough to earn a small
scholarship to a school in Texas where I encountered players much taller than
me. I went from being a center in high school to power forward and then guard
in university. It was the first and only time I had to check an opponent so
tall I was actually looking up his nose. When I decided that the quality of the
education offered in the Deep South was less than inspiring, basketball brought
me home to junior college in Vancouver. It was basketball that launched my
career in broadcasting but that’s a story for another day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>There’s never been a shortage of tall jokes and mockery</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You get used to the simple fact that, like it or not, you
are a target, especially since I also went bald in my early 20’s. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<ul>
<li>How’s the
air up there?</li>
<li>No my name
is not “stretch”.</li>
<li>I guess
you’re the first to know when it’s raining.</li>
<li>Hey, you’re tall! Can you reach something for me on the top
shelf? (I don’t recall ever asking a shorter person to get something for me off
a lower shelf.)</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s been a tactic of mine to strike first. Self-deprecating
humour works. I find baldness funnier than tallness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<ul>
<li>I’m just a
6’4” guy with 6’2” hair.</li>
<li>Yes, I
outgrew my hair.</li>
<li>No it’s not any colder up here than it is down there.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>One average height advantage I've envied </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GC5OrZ7SFKC4ePdomkbNP9k0HPdMuAl3ifl47kVENcuK3AXbrEIrSMpyZIyN0upVSqgfV390nlq5gqPbzVxl72f9R3SvOlmEVh6a4mn_QzSQxN1WWl_aJQXRVxUHw8iz9pfKcMz4BdG6/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+1958+red+Corvette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GC5OrZ7SFKC4ePdomkbNP9k0HPdMuAl3ifl47kVENcuK3AXbrEIrSMpyZIyN0upVSqgfV390nlq5gqPbzVxl72f9R3SvOlmEVh6a4mn_QzSQxN1WWl_aJQXRVxUHw8iz9pfKcMz4BdG6/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+1958+red+Corvette.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was and am fascinated by the Corvettes of the late 1950’s.
My uncle in Ontario was a dealer collector of antique and classic cars. I
remember going to visit him way back when. I was probably 18 at the time. In
his driveway was a beautiful 1958 Corvette roadster. It was red with silver
inserts along the sides. The top was down. It was a 327 cubic inch engine with
a 4-speed transmission. My uncle opened the front door of his house and threw
me the keys. I opened the Corvette door and squeezed my frame under the massive
steering wheel, put my foot on the clutch and closed the door. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I couldn't get my foot off the clutch! My knee would jam
against the back of the steering wheel. So, I opened the door and took my foot
off the clutch. Now I couldn't get the door closed because my knee was jammed
between the steering wheel and the door. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My uncle just laughed. He told that story many times. The
earlier Corvettes were made for shorter people.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Tallness has its ups and its downs but mostly
ups</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPYNDF_pP4OI3A3gQlqsrHLNXojEd510_ZKWZnvfSwkLTr2lWvKJirl_cobeNO6MbA6nNWnK5JQRmndezXgG2JNZEi8fw9fcTDetWOpdfSoJGwosV0VQ7ebra7NdVBIQfBN2_CRqdnqYw/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+T&T+wedding+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPYNDF_pP4OI3A3gQlqsrHLNXojEd510_ZKWZnvfSwkLTr2lWvKJirl_cobeNO6MbA6nNWnK5JQRmndezXgG2JNZEi8fw9fcTDetWOpdfSoJGwosV0VQ7ebra7NdVBIQfBN2_CRqdnqYw/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+T&T+wedding+photo.jpg" width="135" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No one has ever felt sorry for me nor should they. Many
times I've had friends offer to trade a few pounds for a few inches. Stores now
stock clothes that fit and vehicles are made with leg room. Beds are not only
wider but longer. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The best asset for a person of any size is a sense of humour.
I've always tried to laugh at myself and make those around me laugh too. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
never did meet a tall woman but the one I married….well, it’s the long and the
short of a pretty darn good love story.</div>
<br />
PS. I write a column for a magazine called <a href="http://www.northof50.com/" target="_blank"><b>North of 50</b></a>, published monthly in the Okanagan Valley. A version of Are You a Guy Baby appeared in the March issue.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-52847007731710642942015-01-13T15:16:00.001-08:002015-04-09T07:51:51.430-07:00Thanks for Coming Out…Don’t Forget your Hockey Stick<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ60vE4Ys_XMwOX34hQ1ZwaAgNO9g23tUmXjvqaXaT99D27BFhojgXnORLfbK2gC6rkHQf8Wp9TfDk09nSt6eDM9XEVIROKdXP5lEN3MM6K7ftsD7ClGtm11MRdvHqsNohSoz3i3uvjXr6/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Ted+Art+Cropped2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ60vE4Ys_XMwOX34hQ1ZwaAgNO9g23tUmXjvqaXaT99D27BFhojgXnORLfbK2gC6rkHQf8Wp9TfDk09nSt6eDM9XEVIROKdXP5lEN3MM6K7ftsD7ClGtm11MRdvHqsNohSoz3i3uvjXr6/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Ted+Art+Cropped2.jpg" height="128" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
I had a long and successful career in radio. I did not
retire. There were no parties, no accolades, no inscribed goblets or a nifty
pen and pencil set with a marble base. Instead, I became a consultant which in many
languages apparently means “I’m outta here”.</div>
<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="font-size: x-large;">There have been career interruptions</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our son Jonathan passed away in January 2008. The very
personal decision to move closer to family was the right one for Terrie and me.
We vacated Saskatoon in September and took up residence in the spare bedrooms
of relatives. It took 11 months to sell our Saskatoon home so we didn’t buy in
Kelowna until the spring of 2009. The economy was tanking and radio companies
were cutting budget. One of the first spread sheet lines to be eliminated was
“Consultants”. Contracts began to
disappear almost as quickly as they appeared and then came my second “holy
shit” moment.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Disbelief becomes belief</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When told you have cancer, your mind lies. Perhaps the
biggest is how fast life returns to normal. No it doesn’t. For me, there were
years of recovery to arrive at the place I am today. Slowly the new normal has emerged.
There were a few professional projects along the way but then came 2013 and
2014.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Ted who </span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have not retired and don’t intend to retire, but
apparently I have faded away. The radio industry has changed dramatically.
Literally thousands of jobs have been eliminated across the country. I
celebrated 45 years in the business May 1<sup>st</sup> 2014. There won’t be a
46<sup>th</sup>. I have been in denial. Radio was my comfort zone. Radio was
where my lying brain kept telling me I belonged.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Evolution not revolution</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In 2014 I assessed my strengths. What am I good at that
could be transferred to another industry? I nearly took a job selling cars. I’m
a car guy. I’m good with people. In the end, it didn’t make sense. I am a
writer. My career has been built on the development of content. I have a better
than average understanding of digital platforms and marketing. After all these
years, there’s no shortage of experience in media and communications. What I
don’t know or don’t understand I’m real good at finding out. It’s called
research. The decision to pursue clients needing help with websites and social
media to grow their businesses was a natural. 2015 will be my year.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Personal vs business</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I redesigned my website this past year to de-emphasize Ted
Farr Media. There are still tabs with information about the services I offer,
but the thrust of the website is my blog. I am a story teller and the more
personal the better. The new title is “Tall” Ted Farr – 10,000 seconds is a
helluva long time to hold your breath. One day it’ll be my book, perhaps a
simple collection of the stories over the years, perhaps more.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Most read blog posts of 2014</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So here is my year in review. The stories I wrote that
caught your attention. A couple of them went viral or as viral as my stuff
gets.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<ol>
<li><a href="http://www.tedfarrmedia.com/2014/02/17-real-deal-tradition-of-limestone.html" target="_blank">#17 - The Real Deal Traditions of the Limestone Saints Lacrosse Program</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.tedfarrmedia.com/2014/03/patience-and-persistence-best-advice-in.html" target="_blank">Patience and Persistence – the Best Advice in Sickness and in Health</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.tedfarrmedia.com/2014/05/10000-seconds-is-helluva-long-time-to.html" target="_blank">10,000 Seconds is a Helluva Long Time to Hold your Breath</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.tedfarrmedia.com/2014/09/breaking-up-with-old-friend.html" target="_blank">Breaking Up with an Old Friend</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.tedfarrmedia.com/2014/11/the-near-miss-of-lady-x.html" target="_blank">My Father’s War</a></li>
</ol>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">The all-time leaders</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In just three years, the number of pageviews to my blog is
approaching 60,000. I still don’t know if that’s statistically outstanding in
the blog world, but to me it’s humbling. Three of the Top 5 All Time Stories are
about our son Jonathan. One is about his good friend Devan Spilker and the
other is about our 2004 Mustang GT convertible. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;">
</div>
<ol>
<li><a href="http://www.tedfarrmedia.com/2011/09/if-you-couldnt-play-tomorrow-how-hard.html" target="_blank">If You Couldn't Play Tomorrow, How Hard Would You Play Today</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.tedfarrmedia.com/2013/02/17-forever-limestone-saint.html" target="_blank">#17- Forever a Limestone Saint</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.tedfarrmedia.com/2012/04/part-iv-living-life-with-no-regrets-15.html" target="_blank">Part IV - Living Life with No Regrets - #15 Devan Spilker</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.tedfarrmedia.com/2013/04/so-i-bought-convertible.html" target="_blank">Yes I Bought a Convertible</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.tedfarrmedia.com/2014/02/17-real-deal-tradition-of-limestone.html" target="_blank">#17- The Real Deal Tradition of the Limestone Saints Lacrosse Program</a></li>
</ol>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>2015</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The mission is to secure 5-6 solid clients who like my
writing and what I do in content marketing. I will use their websites and
social media platforms to create awareness for their businesses and their
products or services.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also pledge to write more on my website blog from both a
personal perspective and from a professional point of view. I have stories to
tell and experience to share. And I am always looking for ideas. If one comes
to mind, please send my way. Also, if you or anyone you know could use my services, I'm all ears. Here is my <a href="mailto:tedfarrmedia@hotmail.com" target="_blank">email address</a>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrpak7U4GkPImQya7hq3FGTyZWwvypV8_SU2nt1vjLhenwkTWyWAR8wKwBowhTq6eDFtBRMDBL52hFRsT1PFJqPiGw_Oloy_Kig5-Hzm0pRBxQcc6CFYMxmFS6i3wvYm_yj5t05ltgBNRB/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Ted+Art+Cropped2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrpak7U4GkPImQya7hq3FGTyZWwvypV8_SU2nt1vjLhenwkTWyWAR8wKwBowhTq6eDFtBRMDBL52hFRsT1PFJqPiGw_Oloy_Kig5-Hzm0pRBxQcc6CFYMxmFS6i3wvYm_yj5t05ltgBNRB/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Ted+Art+Cropped2.jpg" height="128" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-68742596369951643082014-11-06T14:46:00.000-08:002014-11-09T16:02:39.697-08:00My Father's War - The Near Miss of the 'Lady X'<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.bellhomestead.ca/Pages/default.aspx" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiNEqxW20UsEgLbgQARgjO7YHeWiKLzJfgMvv1Zpxq2jpjqUuTEIRkvRSpD0v5FqNbdXpVqeQHqiNUcdy9mxYTiTpVFx2I92Qcc2glYyDgNfpA6qIzQTWU4qOES7mD_qvkIP3rTBQ1iY-o/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+My+father+enlists.jpg" height="320" width="289" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bellhomestead.ca/Pages/default.aspx" target="_blank">Farr is on the right</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Jack Farr joined the Royal Canadian Air Force in the spring
of 1943. He wasn’t yet 19 and still a high school student at Brantford Collegiate Institute
and Vocational School in Ontario. He and several of his buddies enlisted on the
same day. <o:p></o:p></div>
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He was born and raised in Brantford, son of Jack Farr. He and his father were both named John, no middle name, and both were called Jack. His father had served in the British Army during WWI but didn't see any action. The Farrs came to Canada as most immigrants do, to seek a better life. </div>
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<br />
<a name='more'></a>Brantford is a small town in Southwestern Ontario, famous for being the place where Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone in the 1870's and for being the birthplace of perhaps the greatest hockey player of all time, <a href="http://www.hockeydb.com/ihdb/stats/pdisplay.php?pid=2035" target="_blank">Wayne Gretzky</a>. Brantford also has a direct connection to First Nations history. It was named for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseph_Brant" target="_blank">Chief Joseph Brant</a> of the Six Nations.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">His basic training was completed in Toronto and Saskatoon</span></b></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.warmuseum.ca/home/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLYA8HHBEImf0pOkEh642t-1MsXspuX6eqSdpp1XnkmHBfcWLClBPiJDYOc066CLyizXBefYKbqAWZns_4Xy0vAe6uNaa7AAdhyphenhyphencKZiCqu3hMtrZbfSPYjWpNFZtMIePZqQJ8aiKZE2Ad8/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Dad+getting+his+wings.jpg" height="200" width="155" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.warmuseum.ca/home/" target="_blank">Getting his wings</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And then, he learned to fly in Manitoba where he was awarded his
wings in May, 1944. Bomber training came on the West Coast according to his Flight Log Book.
He and hundreds of other RCAF aircrew throughout the war were sent to the Royal Air Force to fight
in Southeast Asia. <br />
<br />
He became a co-pilot
on a B-24 Liberator, a member of <a href="http://www.rquirk.com/159.html" target="_blank">RAFSquadron 159</a>. Farr flew to India in November 1944 for further training and officially
joined the war against the Japanese in January, 1945. He was based in Digri, West
Bengal, India.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">F/O Jack Farr was my father</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0643353/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgde4O-Lrg9ktgCHF00pR8awnNAYI8bM52oOMTrlS_hJqt8XJ_uCBjMXfLlTELaCtWFp5iuc-hZCvtJvx6S1tw5zBi_l00FKensoOM45_VDkOsu1neOW35q8MyTsDI8AlEVBZ2jzxi85C-Q/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+My+Father+was+Co-pilot+on+the+Lady+X.jpg" height="193" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0643353/" target="_blank">My Dad and 'Lady X'</a></td></tr>
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He was a proud and patriotic Canadian who believed in family,
God and country. His only question about going to war was when, not if. The bomber
he flew was Liberator Mk.VI, KH408, 'Lady X’. </div>
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<br />
For years we thought the nose art was Hollywood actress
Merle Oberon who had starred in a movie called The Divorce of Lady X. Interesting trivia, Oberon was born in India. She went to London to pursue an acting career at the age of 17. But we recently discovered that she's not 'Lady X'. See the story below in PS - 2.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Shot up but never shot down</span></b></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.midnapore.in/arifield/digri-airfield.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQUXEsfgYGnlYuxFaolcAuAM0MuyplYT8RwytzX9eM3tP-3DmAvCWgwgochXECPi2rtCv9N1CRhJLSBzTt9_LONuikHFaEkOXTDAp_MdTA_OUISFUtNqO9LXLxvWDE0sealUC3FkwxnB5d/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+My+father+in+Digri,+Bengal,+India+January+1945.jpg" height="256" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.midnapore.in/arifield/digri-airfield.html" target="_blank">Kinnear and Farr at Digri</a></td></tr>
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F/O Sam Kinnear was the pilot of 'Lady X'. With my Dad beside him
in the cockpit, along with the gunners and other crew members, they flew
missions in the Burma Theater from January to July, 1945. </div>
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My Dad told me they
took flak on a few occasions but were never in danger of crashing. The Japanese simply didn’t have the anti-aircraft artillery and fighter planes such as allied
bombers encountered in flights over Germany. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">He shared his
war stories with me later in life</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.veterans.gc.ca/eng/remembrance/medals-decorations/campaign-stars-medals-1939-1954/bstar" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaRfcjdUF7dquMPnIVWRkoP9dSw7GLyff1nl3XFfecE1tgm4kPe7JBruYmFRj9byZcyGgYNNcEax9e1-vDJ8gFqOckrKBm15Ev6cSq4zVS7_LuWVIgEfA6MEmsVyk91PYZNK-X6BTWXDiY/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+My+father's%2Bmedals2.jpg" height="225" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.veterans.gc.ca/eng/remembrance/medals-decorations/campaign-stars-medals-1939-1954/bstar" target="_blank">Jack Farr Service Medals </a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Most were routine, the heat in India and the bad food. To
the day he died, my father would not eat chicken. That was war related. He had
a few mementos, some jade jewelry and a carved jewelry box he brought home for the girlfriend he would later marry, tons of photographs and a map of Southeast Asia and the China Sea.<br />
<br />
It was printed on silk so it could be easily
stored in his flight gear. All the crew had one in case they were shot down and
needed to find an escape route to safety. I have that map now, along with his
medals.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">One mission stands out</span></b><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.diggerhistory.info/pages-battles/ww2/kwai.htm" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU1dPW3ndTrtJ4YC6iVll2sZhVd_7aOlkbOpk6ENgxd9RbjtJHXEEmJwtEagTAF6MDeDUf64OHlTtNTrwDtz0guwWNlBYm0ygtRCUpRWv5L0LsBlZnnWrjZEhYEQZymU2I4AmpFsYKbjVi/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Bombing+of+the+Bridge+Over+the+River+Kwai.jpg" height="235" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.diggerhistory.info/pages-battles/ww2/kwai.htm" target="_blank">The Bombed Out Bridge on the River Kwai</a></td></tr>
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Not every veteran has a war story that goes beyond personal
experience. My Dad did.<br />
<br />
It was on a June morning in 1945. Several Liberators of 159
Squadron were sent to bomb a bridge. Not just any bridge, it was a key supply
route for the Japanese, The Bridge on the River Kwai. After flying many hours from India to Burma, they lumbered
in to drop their bombs. They would approach the target at 1,000 feet, drop down to 200 feet to place a bomb and then peel off to safety. The Lady X
missed. It was the Liberator flying behind them that made the direct hit as my
Dad remembered the story. The pilot was Vancouver native F/L Roy Borthwick. He
was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for his war efforts.<br />
<br />
As for my Dad, here's his best line when telling the story of the Bridge on the River Kwai, “it
was nothing like the movie!” Despite winning 7 Academy Awards and filling theaters the world over, the movie didn't reflect history, it was just a movie.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">RIP</span></b><br />
<br />
Jack Farr passed away in January 2013. He was 88 and still an active member of the <a href="http://www.burmastarbc.com/" target="_blank">Burma Star Association (British Columbia branch)</a>.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">PS - 1</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.britmodeller.com/forums/index.php?/topic/234959269-172-minicraft-b-24j-as-a-liberator-vi/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxiC_3AqIvsupX92iLOFh0-ysdmwzOBtm5ghyAvnUyEF9phHfGZZVj3pvP8wxzgZgzfXQ0GJdji1_1T7ZUtQW50Tvgg6_kJVgLWjrVzp4PaEwyrRpMQwR5PnVRJU7L38g6i1FySVhQwOxB/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Lady+X+Merle+Oberon.jpg" height="224" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.britmodeller.com/forums/index.php?/topic/234959269-172-minicraft-b-24j-as-a-liberator-vi/" target="_blank">'Lady X'</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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This is incredible! Click on the picture to see the step by step building of a model of 'Lady X'. The modeler's name is Simon Glancey. He lives in England. His attention to detail is amazing.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
And, click on the rest of the photos in my story for more.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">PS - 2</span></b><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0054609/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8fvQ799Jn_abHoD7CzTUI6jdkhJS0sUL2BtDdo6r2PPptoYSxU7hkF1AEw9zlOenduBqzlBueESderIeAo-uALFaliEjXLuYoDIV7O3N90_Sp8d1qwXkesy84UIIt-AwkElRlFzK0Z5XO/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+the+real+Lady+X.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0054609/" target="_blank">Lynn Bari was also known as the "Woo Woo Girl"</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In searching the internet for background on 'Lady X', Glancey began exchanging
e-mails with Matt Poole, who's an expert on Far East RAF Liberator Ops,<br />
<br />
Together, they've found the original inspiration for the 'Lady X' artwork. It's
not Merle Oberon, despite her being in the move "The Divorce of Lady
X", but actress Lynn Bari. She posed for a pin-up in Esquire magazine. It came
out as a postcard in 1943, and later in an Esquire calendar. As
you can see, it's pretty obvious she's the one depicted on KH408's nose art..<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">PS - 3</span></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.airforceparkpei.ca/gallery.php" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ-V9ZqHQX7O-V_SnGaLA4yhFETL_jdPESKFFO6ezaFDLiTPisoDtbb_i9dW3ZgcXJsLitQpEKPv1PCaGyyBmTp_6kvTYkd1Gl36DYxmifBkryRbpM14qIRrC36XtFn8o5mplboPskSE_5/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+My+Father+in+1952+back+in+the+RCAF.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.airforceparkpei.ca/gallery.php" target="_blank">F/O Jack Farr on the runway in Summerside PEI</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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My father re-enlisted in the RCAF in 1952. Canada was involved in the Korean War as a member of the United Nations and he was ready to serve his country once again. He became a flying instructor at RCAF bases in Summerside Prince Edward Island, Trenton Ontario and then Centralia Ontario. He was not called to combat duty and left the Air Force in 1956 to pursue a career as a Baptist Minister. For several years, he did summer stints as a reserve Chaplin. </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-73629987806282208942014-11-02T08:06:00.000-08:002014-11-03T09:40:13.095-08:00Gordie Howe and Me <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.tedfarrmedia.com/p/about.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0jxgBfQPfx6i57PZ27NgaRWOxEr6yea55npcq-0jV4OsgmQr3IBR8vynFyIPz4slsNbhQx5Qa3mU3gwsUACyCMJjIoq3kOmJPNF22jugGh4lxR52rCPiU0DBhkP_R1IbbgS7muGVbw5AP/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+the+very+early+years.jpg" height="200" width="111" /></a></div>
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I was born and raised in Southern Ontario and played most of my
minor hockey in a village southwest of London called <a href="http://www.strathroy-caradoc.ca/en/communitylife/mountbrydges.asp" target="_blank">Mount Brydges</a>. At the time
it’s population was 780 people. Our fathers and coaches had to drive us or carpool us to the
next town where they had an arena. We were a part of the Strathroy hockey program. All we had in Mount Brydges were hoses and backyards. <br />
<br />
Before the dawn of the Junior
Hockey Draft, the original six NHL teams had protected territories. Every player with dreams of a pro career was already spoken for and we were protected by the Detroit Red Wings. Mount Brydges and Strathroy were in Red Wing
territory. That was in the late 1950’s.<br />
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<a name='more'></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">I collected hockey cards before my Dad bought our first TV</span></b></div>
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<a href="http://www.hockeydb.com/ihdb/stats/pdisplay.php?pid=2378" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69QzmqWP5E750pGMvgUO-BE6Z16SXE6tba1mKdMLs6rkPAdmPmU3USomGNfVuaGnYRnsx1NoJUzU_tHwR4coqhHyasWzU2ylf3xkblnghrDJyNkCRtD9eKtbhRzUqLQ-tQW2c_cSSPeqH/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Gordie+Howe+my+first+hockey+card.jpg" height="200" width="135" /></a></div>
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There
were two players you just had to have, Gordie Howe and Rocket Richard. It didn't matter if you were a fan of the Red Wings or the Canadians, you knew all about greatness. They
were the pinnacle of schoolboy collecting back then.<br />
<br />
The card to the right is from a set collected in 1960. It isn't in great shape unfortunately, but I have it. Some
of Howe's earlier cards are valued in the thousands of dollars. The card considered his rookie, can sell for upwards of $10,000.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Hockey Night in Canada</span></b></div>
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It was 1955 on a Saturday. I
was 7. My Dad traded our train set and layout for a TV. He let me stay up late to watch the game with him. It was the
Toronto Maple Leafs against the Detroit Red Wings with <a href="http://www.hockeydb.com/ihdb/stats/leagues/seasons/teams/0000341956.html" target="_blank">all the Red Wing greats</a>,
Gordie Howe, Glenn Hall, Red Kelly, Alex Delvecchio, Ted Lindsay and more.<br />
<br />
So you see, the
Red Wings were some of my earliest hockey memories, although they were definitely not my team. My
father cheered for the Leafs and after a brief flirtation with the Montreal
Canadians, I became a Leaf fan too. The first NHL games I witnessed in person
were with my father in the standing room section at the top of Maple Leaf
Gardens in downtown Toronto. That was the early 1960’s.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Gordie Howe would come into my life three more
times </span></b></div>
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<a href="http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/g/gordiehowe126552.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFfVog8CK9zWRzj3ryIbwhSqPVwPwFG95tG9mWSuGH3QQ5JCZEy4ZRWjBEfFCEmCO4N-4J0FiVE41o6ln8WaUmPBaaZ4UeEb8qVTvMx_G7wlfjyciMQU4e5JrhlXSShYjS7bI3wMqEOgof/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Gordie+Howe+autographed+8+x+10+from+my+collection.jpg" height="200" width="156" /></a></div>
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The first was the summer of 1965. My family had moved from Toronto
to Vancouver. I had a part-time job pumping gas at an Esso station on the west
side of Vancouver.<br />
<br />
One night a grey Chevy Impala convertible pulled into the
lot, top down. There was a couple in the front seat and a couple in the back. I
recognized Gordie Howe instantly. Once the tank was full, I went to the driver to collect the money, turned to look at the couple in the back and said, you’re
Gordie Howe! He said, “no I’m not and laughed”. It was indeed Gordie and his wife Colleen.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">The next time was 1969</span></b> </div>
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I had my first job in radio at CKLG Vancouver. The
General Manager of the station was well connected and had managed to arrange for
Gordie Howe to be a guest at his son’s minor hockey wrap-up party. He
asked me if I wanted to interview Number 9. It was a Saturday afternoon. I
drove to the GM’s house. My first career interview was about to be the
legendary Gordie Howe. He was gracious and patient with the rookie reporter as
I fought back my nerves to ask him questions. I have no idea what I
said or what he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Fast forward to March of 2008</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Terrie and I were in
Vancouver staying at the Westin Bayshore next to Stanley Park. I was strolling
through the lobby and there was Gordie Howe talking to a few people. Turns out
he was on the West Coast to celebrate his birthday. As part owner of the Vancouver Giants Junior Hockey Team, they had invited the city to a game to
sing Happy Birthday to Gordie. I approached him, only to be stopped by his son
Marty who said, Mr. Howe is not signing autographs. I explained that I just
wanted to say hello. When it came my turn, I told Gordie about my first career
interview. He smiled, then laughed and said, “did I hurt you”?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Floral Saskatchewan</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.gordiehowe.com/?p=55" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqrH_A-2_CyneJtu9hMu0OTrbEmQ02EZJjmy4rN2hffbWXthLel75Rzbopcr22rfIYYlcJTQBLYCePCm-ehdvMh2JJMKkWIcPD6qT3DSAfaxnbVPXptOXodCNkoRS70Mt44YpwMh3Hd77C/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Beehive+Corn+Syrup+Gordie+Howe+from+the+1940's.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a></div>
Mr. Howe was born in a farmhouse on
March 31, 1928. He was one of 9 children. The family moved to Saskatoon when
little Gordon was 9 days old. At the age of 16, he left home to pursue his
hockey career. He played his first game in the NHL for the Detroit Red Wings at
the age of 18. He retired from pro hockey at the age of 53.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The City of Saskatoon honoured Mr. Hockey by naming a park
after him as well as an outdoor stadium. There is also a bronze statue of Number 9 outside the Saskatoon Arena, home of the Saskatoon Blades Junior Hockey Club. Howe was noted for his sharp elbows throughout his career.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">The sculptor captured the man perfectly</span></b><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.google.ca/search?q=Gordie+howe+the+rookie&espv=2&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=pn1WVOiAMqirjAKCiYGwAQ&ved=0CAgQ_AUoAQ&biw=1366&bih=600" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-JCEYvB6bBahCGE3ryuKqdVuUlw5r27Cyaei8ElIlPnW_3q1YPsUtE3no6xxcOewjOgOnCjHfJpPeJOujphg9OUvj1PMT8FBpfV7WWLYCAgoF79ZC-1tncvc1_3vZ7vOISM-AnFCFjVEV/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Gordie+Howe+Statue+in+Saskatoon.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a></div>
Mr. Hockey Gordie Howe tops any list of the greatest players
of all time. He, Wayne Gretzky and Bobby Orr are the undisputed best of the
best. He was a great goal scorer and fighter. His elbows grazed the chins of many rookies and veterans.<br />
<br />
He was known for the Gordie Howe Hat Trick, a goal, an assist and a fight. But, here's the thing about legends. Sometimes the aura of the person supercedes the real story. He apparently only did it twice in his lengthy NHL career. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gordie_Howe_hat_trick" target="_blank">Both of Gordie Howe's Gordie Howe Hat Tricks happened in the 1950's and both were against the Toronto Maple Leafs</a>. The all time leader in this tough SOB category is <a href="http://www.hockeydb.com/ihdb/stats/pdisplay.php?pid=4888" target="_blank">Brendan Shanahan</a>.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Penticton BC's Larry Lund was Gordie Howe's center with the Houston Aeros in the World Hockey Association. They are friends to this day. In Larry's words, Gordie Howe is a great person with an incredible attitude. Nice to hear about someone idolized by so many for so long.<br />
<br />
PS Click on the pictures for more.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-83330354439164187372014-10-23T13:32:00.000-07:002014-10-25T07:09:52.638-07:00I Checked in the Mirror and It's Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3Klf8S_cacLCBM-6BCB23IMJ5-8mERnkxl_50umq1FVvviduzfJhtSxaoEcpDBUra3EI8z2h61APZVi83zqGAy2S0QV9rfb67DMmDl-eP970imfDIjggHblecB_CTkcpw3b3YMJJ2Kk0/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+man+looking+in+the+mirror.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3Klf8S_cacLCBM-6BCB23IMJ5-8mERnkxl_50umq1FVvviduzfJhtSxaoEcpDBUra3EI8z2h61APZVi83zqGAy2S0QV9rfb67DMmDl-eP970imfDIjggHblecB_CTkcpw3b3YMJJ2Kk0/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+man+looking+in+the+mirror.png" height="200" width="180" /></a></div>
I'm pissed! My anti-everything vibe is growing stronger. I’m
sure that some of you will point to my advancing age, after all, I am a senior
citizen. You know the stereotype. Wear those really high wasted pants made of
polyester. Spend winters in the warmth of the south complaining about the
government and what’s with those damn young people anyway?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since I am, let’s call it “fashion forward”, not a snowbird and
rarely complain, that stereotype can’t be me. I prefer adjectives such as experienced,
intelligent, savvy and caring. I also like to think of myself as cute in a
bald, grey and wrinkly sort of way. However, my tolerance level is not what it
was twenty years ago or even five years ago and I’m not sure I like the feeling.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">I have a list</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNL0X34iqA9w45Xsp5vypht80USntFRznb1S_kqQfpY23Juxp6Or9E57BLK-rWmCmmrOb8ZiG4xAtXw_JV-gMLNXmkGCvcivxOGONwmCTWM0kpifFIMhYBoKKI4eS1aWhGz-gCRJ6UXlr/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Canadian+flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNL0X34iqA9w45Xsp5vypht80USntFRznb1S_kqQfpY23Juxp6Or9E57BLK-rWmCmmrOb8ZiG4xAtXw_JV-gMLNXmkGCvcivxOGONwmCTWM0kpifFIMhYBoKKI4eS1aWhGz-gCRJ6UXlr/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Canadian+flag.jpg" height="225" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why is it okay under Canadian law to lose your passport, be
declared a high risk traveler, but not have your life dissected to ensure you
don't have the inclination to kill innocent people, hold a nation hostage or possess
the weapons to do it?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why is there no travel ban in effect between Canada and
those countries known to be sources of Ebola? I swear our politically correct
politicians think Ebola is a 3rd world country and as good Canadians we should
offer refugee status to Ebolans.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The same can be said for that infamous 3rd world nation
known as Jihad. Why don’t we open our borders to more Jihadists so that they
can live better lives? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m all for immigration, world travel and personal rights, but
let’s do a better job of saying no when it’s the right thing to do for the
nation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Becoming Mr. Cranky Pants</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I don’t like it much. Why do I no longer believe any
spokesperson for any ethnic group or religious sect? Instead, I have become
painfully suspicious. I think they lie to non-believers and anyone outside
their communities because they have zero obligation or loyalty to Canada and
flaunt the laws and traditions of our country. They are out for themselves and
anything they can rip off from the society that allowed them the freedom to
live here, thrive and be the way they are. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I suppose our First Nations could say the same thing about
the settlers, but that’s the apologist in me battling with my intolerant self.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are not Catholics but our grandson goes to a Catholic
school where Merry Christmas is still Merry Christmas, not Happy Holidays.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Are you sick of hearing about gangbangers maiming and
killing each other in the streets of our cities? I’m sure they were always good
to their mothers. Strange how their mothers never questioned how they could be
driving an $80,000 SUV, but not have a job. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Who do we blame for screwing up Medicare so badly? Where are
the politicians with the jam to fix it?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While we’re at it, who will fix the punishing income tax
system and reel in the public sector unions before the province and the country
go broke? Fair wages for a job well done is never a bad idea, but holding the
economy hostage is just wrong. I’m guessing the NDP and other left-leaning
politicos aren't the answer. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A friend who is a retired International Teamsters Union
executive says that when public sector wages and benefits outstrip those of
private sector unions, we’re headed for labour crisis. Think about it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What's with gas prices? I'm all for companies and
shareholders making profits, but it's approaching criminal what the oil
companies are doing to average Canadians.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Is there a political party anywhere with the jam to yell
stop it </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
$10 for a small container of blueberries that were grown
right here in British Columbia? If it wasn't so sad, it'd be funny.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWelDYP8jwEBeZ9xNEJW3lCfElfVdoekIw4UOGb-GPwge-mnlMx6ilPhJht6zEJmPcysdzHZ8zGnbIryOWYddr9XGdqWoH7uwo8-EUgA40normUbMUm-0C2nQZbvdlSjwUsxFajRPabpOF/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Disney's%2BGrumpy.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWelDYP8jwEBeZ9xNEJW3lCfElfVdoekIw4UOGb-GPwge-mnlMx6ilPhJht6zEJmPcysdzHZ8zGnbIryOWYddr9XGdqWoH7uwo8-EUgA40normUbMUm-0C2nQZbvdlSjwUsxFajRPabpOF/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Disney's%2BGrumpy.png" height="320" width="189" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'd gladly pay an extra $10, $20, $50, even $100 a year on
my property taxes, if I knew that every cent went to the hiring of more police
officers. I am definitely cranky about speeders, distracted drivers and
criminals threatening public safety. However, the cynical me knows the money
would get sucked into some government slush fund to pay for past lousy
management of some misguided chunk of bureaucracy on top of more bureaucracy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s Mr. Cranky Pants complaining about the government again.<br />
<br />
And what’s the deal with green hair and all those tattoos?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Oh, I’d text my wife Terrie to tell her that I love her and
ask her out for date night, but her cellphone battery died about 7 months ago
and she doesn't care. She’s also sitting right across from me so behaving like a smart phone junkie wouldn't be good.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-51933021017533223142014-10-16T07:58:00.002-07:002014-10-24T07:42:11.428-07:00Gas Prices and Spray-On Socks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_EKVGTxjUAx-QrFBG9rcbKXwF63RPU5_bNn7Q_GKhAze0_WvM2IC8Ni7ZqBibCiCl-Iye-9bNdMP1Bc2cL6ZzQVcLBc8MBHHzswrqGJGh25aL0qB8m1UHy3lKdA8uDnwrmpZdJj9PLZuY/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Doc+Harris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_EKVGTxjUAx-QrFBG9rcbKXwF63RPU5_bNn7Q_GKhAze0_WvM2IC8Ni7ZqBibCiCl-Iye-9bNdMP1Bc2cL6ZzQVcLBc8MBHHzswrqGJGh25aL0qB8m1UHy3lKdA8uDnwrmpZdJj9PLZuY/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Doc+Harris.jpg" height="200" width="173" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
More than 30 years
ago on Vancouver Top 40 radio station LG73, legendary disc jockey <a href="http://www.docharris.com/" target="_blank">Doc Harris</a> had a daily
news parody called The Harris Report. It happened every morning at 7:11,
sponsored by the imaginary Rip Off Convenience Marts. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Part of the magic was the
elaborate fake commercials Doc created for Rip Off. He even had some singers
perform a jingle with the words "Rip Off Convenience Marts, we rob you
blind". Then
he would write and voice a script for some bullshit product being sold at an exorbitant
price. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Something like</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jingle: Rip Off Convenience Marts, we'll rob you blind."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Forget
your socks this morning? Well, Rip Off Convenience Marts has the perfect
solution. Spray-on socks. Drop by one of our all too convenient locations and
we'll fix you up with any colour you need. Spray-on socks. Get yours now,
only $29.95. And, don't forget, our pythons are on sale today in the handy six foot long cans!<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> </span>At Rip Off Convenience Marts, we've been gouging the public for decades".<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jingle: Rip Off Convenience Marts, we'll rob you blind."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Today's radio talent</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are precious few hosts I've heard in recent years, with the creative genius of Doc Harris. His
ability to turn a current news story into relevant comedy is matched only by the
writing staff at <a href="http://www.nbc.com/saturday-night-live" target="_blank">NBC's Saturday Night Live</a>. And, today's news is saturated with
opportunity. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>This just in</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie6sM0XbexZ8mvwtpH0O5Rw_wOJKvF1OHSYRz2cYlM9bj1lowO8w3muYw_thgjPH4i3baUgnIfNcA8ph8Cp8-yahqKIy3mcEaJhg04TI32o9sf4NH7_3aY8xhYovu4elGKpWLyKhLVWfex/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+ShellLogo.jpg" /></div>
In
response to a request for an explanation as to why there's such a wide
variation in gasoline prices across British Columbia, a spokesperson for Shell
Canada said pricing is complicated. In other words, gouging effectively and
consistently takes a team of clever rip off artists. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In
Greater Vancouver, the gas buying public is assessed an additional tax of 17
cents per liter to fund public transit. That tax differential has rarely been reflected in the gas moguls pricing policies across the province. As the price of oil
continues it's downward trend, areas of BC have been paying a
disproportionately higher price per liter. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An example from October 15, 2014. A
liter of gas in Surrey BC was 126.9. Subtracting the 17 cent transit tax
suggests, the rest of us should be paying no more than 109.9. Oh, but
gasoline pricing is complicated! In the Okanagan Valley, the price per liter
ranges from 126.9 to 134.9. So who is being gouged? That disparity has been
evident for years. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Population concentration</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lower
Mainland commuters are burning up millions of gallons a week. The rest of us
don't come close, so it can't be supply and demand. The math is simple. Where do the most people live and where do you find the most vehicles? The rest
of the province is fueling gas company profits waning in Greater Vancouver because of the
transit tax. The reason? The oil barons have been worried about crashing through the glass ceiling of 1.50 per liter so they make up the difference by slamming everybody else. Yes, gas gouging is complicated.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">I
can hear the gerbils working in Doc Harris' incredible mind</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jingle:
Rip Off Convenience Marts, we rob you blind. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Drop
in today to fill up your tank. Our prices may be through the roof, but we don't
care! Where are you going to go? We've been draining consumers for
years to satisfy our shareholders. After all, who will stop us?
Pricing is complicated, not fair. And, there are performance bonuses for our executives to consider. At Rip Off Convenience Marts and our rivals, there is no competition, only
collusion."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jingle:
Rip Off Convenience Marts, we rob you blind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Doc,
where are you?</b></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkTszgsZSOufqwb3rx-2d8HbSeXdXXf5EyCZctyfeR2n_Y0UhAlof2E6eDfsc3zj7cl9B9GX6nKY-_qZr_ivLt5q3mj9XxZYhp6CUjzoTN9tuBnBbCuSHi62fXqG8Kc5Et6_kdD1LWpvYf/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+gil-harris-pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkTszgsZSOufqwb3rx-2d8HbSeXdXXf5EyCZctyfeR2n_Y0UhAlof2E6eDfsc3zj7cl9B9GX6nKY-_qZr_ivLt5q3mj9XxZYhp6CUjzoTN9tuBnBbCuSHi62fXqG8Kc5Et6_kdD1LWpvYf/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+gil-harris-pic.jpg" /></a></div>
Oh, I forgot! Much of Canadian radio has been reduced to a computer, a bunch of songs and if we
listeners are really lucky, a dispassionate voice track. Newscasts have mostly been eliminated. News commentators are out of work, and God knows, no news parody. The bite and creativity of Doc Harris is
only a delicious memory.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-63539841641713506642014-09-25T10:42:00.000-07:002014-10-27T16:20:28.864-07:00Breaking Up with an Old Friend<div class="MsoNormal">
The relationship began in April of 1987. It was a Saturday
afternoon and it was raining. </div>
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She was beautiful - unique, classy yet muscular, nothing
subtle about the way she looked. We negotiated an acceptable arrangement and
she moved to our home a few days later. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Over the years she has given us a great deal of pleasure. There’s
been a bit of travel for vacations, but mostly weekend outings, date nights and
special events.</div>
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<br /></div>
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She has aged some but don’t we all. Now she needs a new home
with someone who will appreciate her beauty and invest in her future. She’s a true
Cougar.<br />
<br /></div>
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<a href="http://1970houndstoothcougarxr7.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNaXVoJaeDPSqKO5aL2NrELDkjKyigciFLoxPKX1AMOLTTGPK-LNjtSeux990lVCSzGbHh22xt2SyttWVuVFpVYbB8dBhuj4N8bHGdV-nKHpCudJw8giltu4NNAwNXzRt3WhHM2gK5JBD/s1600/ted_farr_media__1970_cougar_drivers_side3.jpg" height="150" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a name='more'></a>It’s a rare and original ride. In the context of muscle car
history, the 1970 Cougar XR7 was made for the upscale market. Apparently there
were less than 500 XR7’s produced with the houndstooth vinyl roof and matching
interior.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5EqjsJjUQ-KAEb3O5u5ilOPaAm8RZNDskz_rL-sLVXDkIiVZRfwGEj0acD-FBMYYlK4lyd906BH2pby5g0wXwxp5SuOSnCWS7CATCODXrWHUA_MyjaAcrRyudBWupK6RmCvAVAt5w24gB/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-1970+Cougar+XR7+Houndstooth+Roof.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5EqjsJjUQ-KAEb3O5u5ilOPaAm8RZNDskz_rL-sLVXDkIiVZRfwGEj0acD-FBMYYlK4lyd906BH2pby5g0wXwxp5SuOSnCWS7CATCODXrWHUA_MyjaAcrRyudBWupK6RmCvAVAt5w24gB/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-1970+Cougar+XR7+Houndstooth+Roof.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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This 44 year old classic has only 85,000 miles. The complete
drive train has been rebuilt in recent years, from radiator to differential. She
has new tires and chrome rims. The original steel rims and XR7 hubcaps will be
included in the sale. All the options available on a 1970 Cougar are here
except air conditioning, an upgraded radio and a tilt steering wheel. Power
windows and vary-speed windshield wipers are hard to find in most any car from
the era, but this one has both. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtmsICNI_9SNQpjqBWmK4d4Hehh889zebaBWyrHqXlJODRBWDmsGYuZCWYljwpuvBQ_czaKjiDvUbvyL4FbEZmmNXtOVL8RluoW-iswRE-XV2Q_AEpE5FZYts0HcZMY9aNTe_zEG3Al1A/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media++1970+Cougar+XR7+interior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtmsICNI_9SNQpjqBWmK4d4Hehh889zebaBWyrHqXlJODRBWDmsGYuZCWYljwpuvBQ_czaKjiDvUbvyL4FbEZmmNXtOVL8RluoW-iswRE-XV2Q_AEpE5FZYts0HcZMY9aNTe_zEG3Al1A/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media++1970+Cougar+XR7+interior.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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The adrenalin rush is supplied by the M code 351 Cleveland
V8 and an automatic transmission. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgKF9pBKR-3AI5X5LMVArOqw1WP0aDfPylgcTjzMirKUqF1zChfkIahbfJGUj3-ZQg6HUjlpnxPeLQlToeaU0nwwLTvipA9qfCwEj18K4i0VprqbtAgwenRbZFYkgZVT98kJjvVaj8mFU/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+1970+Cougar+XR7+engine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgKF9pBKR-3AI5X5LMVArOqw1WP0aDfPylgcTjzMirKUqF1zChfkIahbfJGUj3-ZQg6HUjlpnxPeLQlToeaU0nwwLTvipA9qfCwEj18K4i0VprqbtAgwenRbZFYkgZVT98kJjvVaj8mFU/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+1970+Cougar+XR7+engine.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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She needs some minor repairs and a good paint job to bring
her up to show car quality. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAe6NeVWI9tVQ3WNgf2CjUeG4gJiRJKguJ6it-CE2xzeTTF0YXs3N6HG5oRhHrlsdpOpot6eVWqyeq6o4QlCGZDVWHwUJu8Pqcjz8wTYW-GF-1SjB6TeEBzKvxB6kFxUsm2n64agb6VpNd/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+1970+Cougar+XR7+low+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAe6NeVWI9tVQ3WNgf2CjUeG4gJiRJKguJ6it-CE2xzeTTF0YXs3N6HG5oRhHrlsdpOpot6eVWqyeq6o4QlCGZDVWHwUJu8Pqcjz8wTYW-GF-1SjB6TeEBzKvxB6kFxUsm2n64agb6VpNd/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+1970+Cougar+XR7+low+view.jpg" height="150" width="400" /></a></div>
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You will become just the third owner of this ultra rare and original classic for a mere <u><b>$20,000.00</b></u> and I’ll
throw in an actual 1970 Mercury Cougar showroom brochure for free.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Email me at <a href="mailto:tedfarrmedia@hotmail.com">tedfarrmedia@hotmail.com</a>
to get the ball rolling.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-65466661901360757422014-09-23T13:21:00.000-07:002014-10-25T08:34:22.825-07:00Butter Tart TalesConfession time! My name is Ted and I’ve had a lifelong love
affair with butter tarts. I am a living, breathing, butter-tart-aholic.
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s a sweet tooth
thing. I can probably blame my grandmother Farr in <a href="http://www.brantford.ca/Pages/default.aspx">Brantford </a>Ontario. She baked
all kinds of desserts, especially around Christmas. Thanks to her, when I see a
butter tart, I am compelled to taste it, to find out if it’s any good. There
are so many ways to screw one up.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<ul>
<li>Lousy crust </li>
<li>The filling not runny enough</li>
<li>No
crunchy bits on top</li>
<li>No raisins or not enough raisins</li>
</ul>
A fabulous butter tart
has to be just so.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>A bit of history</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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I grew up in Ontario. Born in Brantford but also lived in
<a href="http://www.trentonontario.com/">Trenton</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exeter,_Ontario">Exeter</a>, <a href="http://mountbrydges.ca/">Mount Brydges</a> and <a href="http://www.toronto.ca/">Toronto</a>. My father’s parents came from the
British Isles soon after the First World War. They settled in Brantford. </div>
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I’m guessing that my grandmother likely didn’t know that butter
tarts were common in pioneer Canadian cooking. She just knew they tasted great
and were a family favourite. In fact, the butter tart is considered one of only
a few recipes of genuinely Canadian origin. It is primarily eaten and
associated with the English-speaking provinces of Canada. The earliest
published Canadian recipe is from Barrie, Ontario dating back to 1900 and can
be found in <a href="http://www.muskokaregion.com/news-story/3634164-rvh-cookbook-boasts-one-of-first-printed-butter-tart-recipes/">The Women’s Auxiliary of the Royal Victoria Hospital Cookbook</a>. The
tart consists of butter, sugar, syrup and egg, poured into a flaky pastry and
baked until the filling is semi-solid with a crunchy top. Different things can
be added to the filling but the most common is raisins. I like mine with
raisins.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Recollections</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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When I was 21 ore 22, I had an apartment in a converted
mansion at the corner of Jervis and Georgia in Vancouver’s West End. Below my
place was a tiny restaurant. It sat maybe 5 or 6 people, but as I recall, a few
more could sit outside. I think it was called the Tom Thumb but specifics are
vague, except for one thing. Whoever owned it made fabulous butter tarts. And
there was nothing Tom Thumb about them. They were big and deep with a flaky
crust and raisins.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4A3HBiT_7rRW1p8z6EbkT2JAjaqZ3BTYPK5z38zBhH6sywUjlCDCT3qi2-6eez2PeqCJ3hTdwQ7R0Zpxd0waNJX0Eq16kF1uefV8VeMUODe9hN7R0lSWeIjHFwPLjomznm03-4_AktW8/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Favourite+family+photos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4A3HBiT_7rRW1p8z6EbkT2JAjaqZ3BTYPK5z38zBhH6sywUjlCDCT3qi2-6eez2PeqCJ3hTdwQ7R0Zpxd0waNJX0Eq16kF1uefV8VeMUODe9hN7R0lSWeIjHFwPLjomznm03-4_AktW8/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Favourite+family+photos.jpg" height="199" width="320" /></a></div>
In 1971, I met and married Terrie. She was a great cook then
and even better now. Although she has never considered herself to be a baker,
she sure makes great butter tarts, usually at Christmas. Terrie's are small ones. For
years, she would bake dozens of them to have on hand for family dinners and
company. She would put them into Tupperware containers and freeze them. </div>
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In our <a href="http://www.newwestcity.ca/">New Westminster BC</a> house, the freezer was near the
basement door to the carport. So, on my way out to work in the morning, I would
sneak a few of these frozen delights. Because of their size, you could pop them
into your mouth and chew away. Delicious! That is until one day she went to put
out a tray of goodies for some friends and found that I’d already eaten several
dozen. Busted! The good news is she made more.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Recent years</b></span></div>
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We moved to <a href="http://www.kelowna.ca/cm/site3.aspx">Kelowna BC</a> in 2008. As we have so many relatives
and friends in Vancouver, we often drive to the Coast. There are two ways to go. One is non-stop on
the freeways. From our garage to Terrie’s sister’s place takes, at most, 3.5
hours. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwuL4Vc4TFEOnGWZHCDAI9TbGcROSeewdKWQFPef8bo0ywihJXJ08Ui1TZH7eqpxPdVudTlAhxBQP3USjHSy4cb23XjA89vppTBDyjGDIHdC7RgXVvyZQrG2xZTaQs6TNtg66TyG7SIjm9/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+side+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwuL4Vc4TFEOnGWZHCDAI9TbGcROSeewdKWQFPef8bo0ywihJXJ08Ui1TZH7eqpxPdVudTlAhxBQP3USjHSy4cb23XjA89vppTBDyjGDIHdC7RgXVvyZQrG2xZTaQs6TNtg66TyG7SIjm9/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+side+view.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
But then two years ago we bought a convertible, a 2004
Mustang GT convertible with a five speed standard transmission. It begs to be
driven on winding roads, the sun shining, top down, taking our time. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/hopedriveinrestaurant">Hope Drive In and Restaurant</a>. The place is truly old school. It’s one of the few restaurants that
is still serving a toasted Denver sandwich. Their baked goods are outstanding from
pies to cinnamon buns to, wait for it, butter tarts. They are fabulous, made
just right.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Our last 5
or 6 trips to Vancouver have been anywhere up to 7 hours and we always stop
for lunch in Hope BC. It’s a diner called <br />
<br />
The problem, if there is a problem, is that they only bake their
butter tarts toward the end of the week. As a result, there have been times
when they’re sold out.<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of the servers recognizes us and knows my
obsession. On a recent trip, we just got our coffees when a different waitress brought a single butter tart on a plate to our table. She said I hear
you like these. All the waitresses were laughing and our favourite server
mouthed the words “last one”.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwjm_he7FawU4JDF_9WXRLjCOffbRK8SmUJpDTZ2WaCboMhKOkGxdPfAqawGGtPBlwbE6Nca8hchqKd4YUo5mTpF8_zbT6bDUQZXxtw-_FV5Uk5K8yKIP4_eoF7yqAArxhZxJxvv1IpqXY/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Butter+tarts+in+Hope+BC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwjm_he7FawU4JDF_9WXRLjCOffbRK8SmUJpDTZ2WaCboMhKOkGxdPfAqawGGtPBlwbE6Nca8hchqKd4YUo5mTpF8_zbT6bDUQZXxtw-_FV5Uk5K8yKIP4_eoF7yqAArxhZxJxvv1IpqXY/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Butter+tarts+in+Hope+BC.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
On our next drive through Hope, we no sooner settled into
our booth when a server delivered a plate with two butter tarts. In her words,
wouldn’t want you to miss out.<br />
<br />
On our last trip, we decided to stop at the diner to fill up
our coffee mugs and grab a treat. Really! A treat?<br />
<br />
I walked in the front door to be greeted
by our favourite server. In her words, you must have smelled them. They just
came out of the oven. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Guess I'm famous!</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Epilogue</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you’re ever in <a href="http://hopebc.ca/">Hope BC</a>, be sure to stop at this place. The cars parked out front will be a little newer, but otherwise not much has changed. And, they have the best
butter tarts.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMtqKN6KSnwL6r9_ITgrZkVEFWUsnAYquAUW4yWbeNV5iu2CCqbOLcg4YTMSry1nZ9OJVBwy7X4Ttb-8ZeUJHQ87vekF8B9dz_uNBl718CNoVN0GfCJnj6Gu3VOU62FSWNNbVbkOTSrPL/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Hope+Restaurant+and+Drive+In.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMtqKN6KSnwL6r9_ITgrZkVEFWUsnAYquAUW4yWbeNV5iu2CCqbOLcg4YTMSry1nZ9OJVBwy7X4Ttb-8ZeUJHQ87vekF8B9dz_uNBl718CNoVN0GfCJnj6Gu3VOU62FSWNNbVbkOTSrPL/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Hope+Restaurant+and+Drive+In.jpg" height="261" width="400" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-44130022616956826922014-09-09T11:34:00.000-07:002014-09-18T19:35:06.207-07:00Keep Right Except to Pass<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhop1cGYGolT-0aWO01CnPjKlP-B3kLbsG-31VOfPHdgdYya_e_YcmIzeT36J4n6rGvwhrUi6vAg34GuGrRyvUVjPu12sUSiTVK_4idnzvwaBfBI32zsWxr6q6e9zgg1Sx25H0c-hp8Z-od/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+keep+right+except+to+pass.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhop1cGYGolT-0aWO01CnPjKlP-B3kLbsG-31VOfPHdgdYya_e_YcmIzeT36J4n6rGvwhrUi6vAg34GuGrRyvUVjPu12sUSiTVK_4idnzvwaBfBI32zsWxr6q6e9zgg1Sx25H0c-hp8Z-od/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+keep+right+except+to+pass.gif" height="200" width="156" /></a></div>
And many of us do. Fact is, the left lane has become a speedway where the highway rules of courtesy and compliance to the laws don't apply. You’ve no
doubt seen many of these perpetrators for yourself. A partial list includes, semis, other
types and sizes of commercial vehicles, pick-up trucks, pick-ups towing campers,
boats or u-hauls, vehicles with Alberta plates and Greyhound buses. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Technically
I suppose the left lane speeders are in the right. They pass
everything, as fast as possible. So, maybe it’s time to change the wording on the sign to:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Keep
Right Except when Breaking the Speed Limit" </b></div>
</div>
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<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>A recent trip</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyRzR1Wcxx6oKmUr1NJsIaSS98F-rET9o9TncbrSaewvSIHd93RJNDONHmsSuz-X-NnHmdpLyFEc6x-rQxX59VRZjIW3GD3000ubNWsosU0XBcyTMFRqMdMr-mNEy3d6X7h0WYYHwgXmFo/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Macleans+magazine+photo.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyRzR1Wcxx6oKmUr1NJsIaSS98F-rET9o9TncbrSaewvSIHd93RJNDONHmsSuz-X-NnHmdpLyFEc6x-rQxX59VRZjIW3GD3000ubNWsosU0XBcyTMFRqMdMr-mNEy3d6X7h0WYYHwgXmFo/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Macleans+magazine+photo.jpg" height="179" width="320" /></a></div>
We drove the Trans Canada from Vancouver to Hope in early
September. Conditions were horrid! It was raining so hard that visibility was
restricted. For safety reasons, it was prudent to slow down from the posted 100 km/h
or 110 km/h. Spray kicked up by speeding semis only
compounded the visibility issues. The posted speed limit was barely a
guideline. The passing lane was filled with trucks of all sizes totally
ignoring the laws of the road and the safety of other drivers.<br />
<br />
Where was the
RCMP? Good question! Not a cop to be found anywhere.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>A better question </b></span></div>
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Why bother with speed limits at all? British Columbia
recently raised the maximum speed on some four lane highways from 100 km/h to
110 km/h. What a joke! 120, 130 and higher has been the norm for several years. I
can’t remember the last time I saw the police pull over a speeding semi. For
that matter, you rarely see police patrol any one of our busier highways, unless
there’s been an accident.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>No sense complaining
to authorities</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3TUvyEg0j0f74D0ZOCvJIi3DOAk7wO70KTQBtvMsN8HFZFEbCsrd499Tb1HvZ3Y9DAk366RLE-iqhvRLQkt_lJCvSxLl4UJJe1wyntAqaUxRAzoG-tgPuavcPjlaTWAkF4vnMm0_LWj2S/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Global+News+photo.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3TUvyEg0j0f74D0ZOCvJIi3DOAk7wO70KTQBtvMsN8HFZFEbCsrd499Tb1HvZ3Y9DAk366RLE-iqhvRLQkt_lJCvSxLl4UJJe1wyntAqaUxRAzoG-tgPuavcPjlaTWAkF4vnMm0_LWj2S/s1600/Ted+Farr+Media+-+Global+News+photo.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></div>
I’ve been to the local RCMP detachment to complain about
speeders and those drivers who ignore the cell phone law. I was told they don’t
have the manpower to police the roads so they don’t. I was also told there is
no use reporting the licence plate of a traffic offender because nothing will
happen. It was suggested that I should instead be talking to the politicians
about increasing police budgets.<br />
<br />
To the credit of organized crime units across the province, gang violence is on the decline and there's hardly a week goes by without another story about a drug bust, especially grow-ops. These crimes seem to be the police priorities.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Do more people have
to die?</b></span><br />
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From where I sit behind the steering wheel of my car, we
have two problems with potentially devastating impact on public safety.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Speeding and distracted driving are not in
decline and only law enforcement is going to fix it.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747733147138610955.post-57532059412321605082014-07-22T16:00:00.000-07:002014-07-22T16:01:48.187-07:002005 4.0L V6 Mustang Fastback - Ray Spencer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ALjiqIpXvYWsUHJqNFG_t9GHJykki2bRkFx8dM-pEerOJ6ev0axkuHxuCiOG4EELuwS3tt9mcRw_i5qtmQp8A2J0LePeyNFysyH9-Image7_OaolPBwlIE6wZ-l7nxpcVahgxcWGH8Yx/s1600/Okanagan+Mustangs+and+Fords+-+Spencer1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ALjiqIpXvYWsUHJqNFG_t9GHJykki2bRkFx8dM-pEerOJ6ev0axkuHxuCiOG4EELuwS3tt9mcRw_i5qtmQp8A2J0LePeyNFysyH9-Image7_OaolPBwlIE6wZ-l7nxpcVahgxcWGH8Yx/s1600/Okanagan+Mustangs+and+Fords+-+Spencer1.JPG" height="237" width="400" /></a></div>
The Mustang has been around for more than 50 years, and for
all of those 50 + years, horsepower has been synonymous with the brand. For many owners, the
Mustang is the ultimate muscle car, the GT, Mach I, the Boss, Shelby, Roush, Saleen
and other factory and after-market versions. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But not everybody cares about the cubic inches and the
ponies. The vast majority of Mustangs on the road today have the V6 and let’s
not forget that the original 1964 Mustang came with a straight 6 cylinder and a standard
transmission.<br />
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<a name='more'></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Meet Ray Spencer</b></span></div>
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Ray is a retired <a href="http://www.cn.ca/">Canadian National Railway</a> policeman. He spent much of his career
in northern Alberta but now makes West Kelowna his home. He was all of 13 when
he fell in love with the Mustang. It was the summer of 1966 and it was an
orange convertible. 18 years later, Ray bought his first Mustang, a brand new 1984
hatchback with a V6. In his words, it went like the wind. Like many of us, he had
to trade that one in on a minivan for a growing family. He also briefly
owned a ’98 Mustang V6.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The internet is a wonderful thing</b></span></div>
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In late 2003, Ray was surfing websites when he saw an ad for
the 5<sup>th</sup> generation Mustang. The retro</div>
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</div>
<br />
60’s styling caught his
attention right away. Even though he went to his local Ford store many times, it
wasn’t until September of ’04 that he was finally able to place his order and
another 7 months before delivery on April 19, 2005. Ray’s windveil blue Mustang
fastback was built on a Monday, April 4, 2005 in Flat Rock Michigan.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9jxmqAwG-2RPlX1VbbjkS6DnA7hKBw4egXBYx-4O3q0R0L-nicMYvPmFHEHoJ_m0RdDxBT1pVXkDNQ2TkY0qJOTQtp3PlYCfb9NV__dixjDwo5KSz3cFDdpaHBOF9RsaV0uvQYUOb-YQ5/s1600/Okanagan+Mustangs+and+Fords+-+Spencer2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9jxmqAwG-2RPlX1VbbjkS6DnA7hKBw4egXBYx-4O3q0R0L-nicMYvPmFHEHoJ_m0RdDxBT1pVXkDNQ2TkY0qJOTQtp3PlYCfb9NV__dixjDwo5KSz3cFDdpaHBOF9RsaV0uvQYUOb-YQ5/s1600/Okanagan+Mustangs+and+Fords+-+Spencer2.JPG" height="277" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Before ordering, Ray did his research</b></span></div>
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Among the many choices on the order sheet was engine size. Would
the new Mustang have the 4.0L V6, or the 4.6L (GT) V8?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>According to the specs at the time, the 4.6L
went from 0 to 60 in 6.0 seconds. The 4.0L reached the same speed in 6.7
seconds. For Ray, paying an extra $15,000 to go .7 seconds faster made little
sense. And, as any police officer will tell you, the 4.0L is just as capable of
getting a speeding ticket as the 4.6L.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Dressing up his baby</b></span></div>
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Since 2005, Ray has added many trim and performance extras
such as <a href="http://www.magnaflow.com/">MagnaFlow exhaust</a>, cold air induction kit and tune, duck tail spoiler
and most recently, wider tires and new rims. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5fJb2FKM200/U86XioVcrRI/AAAAAAAABfE/M2OHIIsQHao/s1600/Okanagan+Mustangs+and+Fords+-+Spencer3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5fJb2FKM200/U86XioVcrRI/AAAAAAAABfE/M2OHIIsQHao/s1600/Okanagan+Mustangs+and+Fords+-+Spencer3.JPG" height="294" width="320" /></a></div>
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As many of us do, Ray has personalized his car with
after-market upgrades. But there’s one story Ray wants to share. </div>
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Shortly after he took delivery,
Ray was on a road trip and decided to give the Mustang a little juice. The back
end broke loose. What he found out was that the 4.6L (GT) had sway bars front
and back while the 4.0 V6 only had a front sway bar.<br />
<br />
Ray did two things. Off he
went to the dealership to have an OEM sway bar installed in the rear and he
sent a letter to Ford outlining his experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><br />
<br />
There were enough complaints to Ford that the 2006 4.0L V6 came out with
both front and rear sway bars as standard equipment.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">A moral to the story</span></b></div>
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Ray’s experience with sway bars
illustrates the importance of communicating with the dealership as well as the
manufacturer when you buy a new vehicle. And for owners of collector cars, the
importance of joining a club, such as <a href="http://www.okmustangsandfords.com/">Okanagan Mustangs and Fords</a> as a resource
for expertise, upgrades, repairs and sources for parts.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">PS</span></b><br />
<br />
Ray has made a study of the products and methods used by the pros to detail a car. He wants to start a home/garage business. If you're looking for a car show shine at reasonable rates, <a href="http://Ray%20Spencer%20(ray%2Espencer74@gmail.com)/">send Ray and email </a>to set up a day and time.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03791357816875956542noreply@blogger.comKelowna, BC, Canada49.8879519 -119.4960105999999849.560658399999994 -120.14145759999998 50.2152454 -118.85056359999997