Not Missing You

Well, now your trip to Denmark is over and you’ve come home once again to Canadian Soil!

I’ve reviewed your trip in my mind, and I can say without doubt, that it was one of the finest that anyone could have.

I’ve also thought about you being gone, and have concluded that I am not missing you, now that you’ve gone.

It is a good thing for both of us, giving us a chance to move on in life. I suggest that you too, adopt the same attitude, just as I have done.

We could celebrate our decision together, just apart, as it were.

Now we won’t need to miss each other.

We also will not miss talking to each other in person, and by telephone.

I will also not miss showing you around the country, nor will I miss telling you about life in Denmark.

Just think how nice it will be, not having to see each other, face to face, and share our lives with each other in that way.

I have considered calling you by telephone to tell you, of how I do not miss you in any way, shape or form, but I am afraid by doing so, that I will start missing you again,

And that would be something that I would not want to do!

Missing you greatly, that is!


Missing in Denmark

One Microsoft Lumia telephone.

Last seen in Aalborg almost 2 weeks ago.

Reportedly moved around Denmark to escape detection.

Possible past locations:

  1. Aalborg
  2. Viborg (1 and 2)
  3. Århus
  4. Esbjerg
  5. Odense
  6. Svendborg
  7. Aalborg
  8. Copenhagen

Clues to its whereabouts can be determined by perusing this Blog Site:

Reward: None

Sentimental Value: Poor at best

Additional Information: Micro USB cable which can be used for Data transfer is also missing. Black in color. No distinguishing marks.

Sim card from Denmark.

White telephone case, obviously used.

Last recorded usage: 25 May 2016. Copenhagen Denmark. 11am Central European Time

Possible Future Location: Montréal Canada. Address unknown.

APB – Efterlysning

Wanted: One water bottle from Canada. Montréal.

Missing: Near the Northern Tip of Denmark

Lost: 22 May 2016


  • Bottle plastic, clear with colorless liquid inside
  • Cap: plastic being rouge in color, peut-être more orange
  • Lightweight. Easy to carry. Possibly unbreakable.

Here is an approximate search location:


Source/Kilde: Google Maps

Closer/Nærmere Details: Lost or stolen between the end of road number 40, along the beach (the Kattegat Sea) towards the northern tip of the Jutland Peninsula, Denmark.

Reward: None.

Value: Sentimental at best.

Search had been started on the return/retur trip towards highway 40 after having visited the northern tip. However, an unexpected deviation in the route, increased the odds for failure, which should be noted in the upcoming police report.

There were observed a number of foreigners in the vicinity, also those from Denmark, being Danes and all.

The Lucky finder should consider him/herself lucky with a possible Wow- factor, placement on Facebook – a sort of Bottle Selfie, and bragging possibilities to ones friends!

Remember. There is one sad Canadian girl out there without her bottle from Montréal. Let’s all pull together and try to make the end of her visit to Denmark into a happy memory!


Contrary to popular belief, this is not the bottle in question:

ribe vandflaske

But this is the Real McCoy:

real thing

Don’t be fooled by its size…….




Don’t you ever….

I don’t know about you. I would have thought that for once in your life, you’d tell me the truth, especially after I’d traveled so far?

We were walking on a large sand dune in the Northern Part of the Jutland Peninsula, when I asked, “Where in the world did all of this sand come from?”

and you replied, “Sahara”.

“We are in Denmark. The Danes are perfectly capable of having their own sand from the North Sea. North Sea on the west, Denmark in the middle, prevailing wind from west to east! How in the world can you tell me a lie like that?”

“The ships sail on the North Sea, right? On the western side of Denmark it is called Jammerbugten- The name is derived from when ships sank on that windy coast, causing  people to jammer – cry and weep. The people along the shore would then gather up the spoils from the shipwrecks. When they saw how easy it was to run aground, they decided the best way to transport sand, was to put it on the western side, and let it blow to the eastern side. Lower transport costs = Greater profit.”

You really think I’d fall for a lie like that? You probably thought, I was born yesterday? A young girl like me, being so impressionable on her first trip to Denmark, and all! How many other lies have you told me, while I was here?

“You know about burial mounds, right? They are found all over the country. The usual story is that they come from the Iron and Bronze Ages. They are actually missile silos! The Americans always have secret bases around the world, and this one has the perfect disguise. You can even go into some of them, but even there the deception is complete. It takes a trained mind to be able to hear the hum of the guidance system behind its fake walls. In the old days, there would be an American behind the wall, using his periscope to observe the world around him. They were much more effective than those concrete bunkers from WWII. They even found that Californians were the best suited for the job, allowing for their cunning and ability for deception!”

I was really getting ticked off. My dream vacation was being taken apart, bit by bit with these lies. I just wanted to know that the last time that we spent together, would be the most special of this whole vacation. It all culminated when he invited me over for dinner, together with his family.

“Hello and welcome. This is my wife, Helga. My daughter Freja and my son Ragnar. They have been looking forward to your visit, and have prepared a traditional Danish meal. We will start with Lebanese Pizza, then Italian pasta. The Dessert is a nice American pancake topped off with Sirop d’érable pur direct from Québec. All traditionally made in Denmark. Afterwards we will entertain you by having our Dog, Viborg try to flip over backwards, landing on his feet again! Not just once, but twice. Viborg times 2.  I will then drive you home, by the long route, describing the content of my collection of etchings. You won’t forget it, I assure you!”

More lies. Lies upon lies. I knew all of those things were false, even down to his wife and children. The dog even looked rented. “Rent your own dog today”. I read that ad in the local newspaper. I really thought for once, he’d tell me the truth. Just once for old time sake. Just once for our friendship. I guess, I deluded myself in thinking that.

I longed for the sights and sounds of Montréal once again. I couldn’t wait to tell my mother of my travels, but hesitated telling her that she had been right. That my so-called friend over here just wanted me for one thing, and he got it as well. I should have listened to my mother. I know if the truth comes out, my days will be like those of too much red wine, ending up with my father mowing the lawn outside my window. The constant noise of the lawnmower, pounding in my head. Pounding and mowing…pounding and mowing….

I guess, I deserve everything, I get. It was my choice to visit Denmark and I knew of his lies before I left. I just thought that this one time, it would be different. The last thing that he said to me still haunts me today:

“Don’t take it so hard. Remember what we have shared together and tell yourself, Things could not have been better! The weather was perfect as well as the Potato Chips! I treated you to no less than three large and expensive meals, and showered you with handmade gifts. I not only drove you around the country, but I drove you crazy as well! I treated you as good as I treat myself, perhaps even less so? I’m sure that Helga, Freja and Ragnar would agree to my words. God bless you, if you sneeze that is, and remember that we don’t say Goodbye in Danish. We say på gensyn, which is just like in your native French – Arrivederci!”……..


An Uncontrollable Urge Called Viborg

Viborg. Viborg. Even the name is magical! I wish I had used my leisure time this past weekend in Viborg…

It really didn’t seem like an exciting place at firs, but after a while I knew, that the rest of Denmark paled in comparison to the singleness, the pure elegance of Viborg.

I considered writing a series of travel blogs about Denmark, but couldn’t get past Viborg. It is true, that many people would have brushed off the idea of visiting such a small place, off the beaten track, lacking in character, tourist sights, and an easy way to find way around, but still the name says something without saying anything.

It might have been a girl, traveling through that caught my attention when I first stepped of the bus in that fairy tale sounding name of a town. Viborg that is! Or perhaps a puppy with a ball, or a teenager with a new I-phone 6s. All of those things put together in, have you forgotten its name? It was Viborg!

Perhaps, it could be done in two blogs, Vib-1, and Vib-2. Some might say that was dragging out the agony, while others would revel in the simplicity of 2 mini-blogs, thereby increasing the pleasure of knowing it in more than one testament!

I was only on a first name basis with “V”, and wouldn’t want to leave my wife, just because I harbored strange feelings, when I was there. I guess, there are many loves in our life, and Viborg will just have to remain that one standing in the shadows!

We needed to part company in the end. Goodbyes are never easy, but I felt that someday, I would again step off that bus once again, and meet with my old friend…..

named Viborg.

If you had forgotten its name again.

Honestly some people don’t listen, when important things are said……


The Suitcase of DBC – Chapter 11

I guess, I had a lot of things to occupy my thoughts, otherwise I would have asked my friend before, what she had been up to. Maybe she wanted to be a mailman, and was trying to sell her wares, as it were, from door to door.

What with runaway dogs, and making money washing cars, it seemed like my life was filled up with enough things to do, in a not so ordinary summer, as summers go. It was, however, about to increase my workload even more, and it happened when my next door friend, suddenly turned up at my doorstep without any warning, whatsoever.

First there came a knock on the front door. Not an ordinary knock, nor an unusual knock. You know how it is, with having to have a “k” on the “knock” which made it all seem a bit silly, but then I didn’t invent this language, although I might have, if given the chance? Uh why did I start going down that road, what was I just thinking of?

I looked out of the door, wondering why the mailman decided to knock instead of just stuffing the mail through the slot in the door. Maybe it was time for the summer catalog, filled with smiling people in summer pastel colors, running and playing, having picnics and the like, while someone else had pasted a lot of prices underneath, showing the rest of us, what happiness really costed.

My mother liked to look at the catalogs when they arrived. She seemed to sigh more than usual, as if she had wanted something else out of life, than just being a housewife, married to a master of garage antics, and fix-it possibilities. She had stopped, long ago in trying to interest my father in the same pictures, waiting for his comments of, “Wow, look at those pants, or that dress would look good on you honey, not that you need any sprucing up, you still are as pretty as the day I married you, let’s take a weekend trip all alone, just you and me, like having another honeymoon”. He was more interested in seeing, if there were any new tools in the back of the magazine, then promptly excused himself to the garage, when there wasn’t anything interesting enough to capture his attention.

I didn’t see his mail truck outside, and wondered if he had gone the way of using the mail bicycle instead? Not everyone had the legs for it, and I think he was a bit embarrassed to show his hairy legs in public.

After a while, a new round of knocking started again. It might just be someone selling Girl Scout Cookies? I used to like smelling them, when they first came out of the box. Mom always said that we should support that sort of thing in our city, otherwise those girls would end up on the wrong side of town. I looked at a map once, and wanted her to show me, where the wrong side of town was located. She just looked at me in her exasperated way, and said “that was just an expression of speech.” As I’ve gotten older and have started to think about girls in different ways than before, I wondered again where that part of town really was? It seemed most of the girls that I knew, didn’t seem to notice me, no matter what I did to gain their attention, but those other girls in that other part of town, just might look at me differently! I didn’t want to ask my mother again, as I figured she wouldn’t tell me anyway, which meant that I needed to concentrate on the right side of town instead.

The third round of knocking sounded more angry than before. I cautiously opened the door to find my next door friend, looking like she was going to explode, and the blast was directed at me. “Have you been lost in Daydream-ville again? Have you even tried looking out of the window to see who it was? Do you think that I dare do this kind of thing everyday, using the frontal attack approach, while your Mom is at the store!”

“You’d better come with me you Ninny, before she discovers you and me, all alone together-like kissing, and who knows what else can happen?”

It’s funny how the word “kiss”, made me lose track of the conversation! I walked over to her house in a trance-like way, letting her open the front door, and lead me upstairs to her room once again. I felt that she needed to do something drastic to snap me out of my trance. I could come with a suggestion, but she was usually the one who decided what and when I really deserved a reward.

She seemed to have control over me, like some James Bond Girl, who was controlled by Goldfinger, or Blackheart in Japan or Europe at the October Fest, with exploding cars and skiing down the Alps with only 1 ski, while dodging snowmobiles with German Austrian Cold War Agents. He always got the girl, but sometimes she got it too, making it necessary for him to get a new girl, but that wasn’t any problem, when he ended up at some casino in Monte Carlo sipping a shaken, not stirred martini sitting at the Blackjack table, waiting for Raquel Welch to come by, and….

“Earth to Ninny. Earth calling Ninny. Come in Ninny. ”

“You are really wack-a-doodle! I wish, I could join you in dream-land sometime just to see how far you’ve really gone! Listen here. Today is the most important day of your life. Do you understand me? Read my lips.”

She shouldn’t have said lips. Anything other than lips. She could have talked about her mother, and how she wears Army Boots, or why Canadians want to speak French, just something other than lips. Why lips? If only I had the nerve to tell her, what I was thinking about then I might have a chance to…

“I am holding my index finger in front of your face! Follow my finger closely. Do not take your attention away from my finger. My finger is going to poke you in the eye, if you lose your concentration one more time. Now get a grip!”

She moved over to her closet and took something dark and cumbersome out. It was the suitcase, we had found in the forest, when my dad and I had been camping. It had the initials DBC under the handle, and I don’t know why in the world, it was so important to her?

“I want you to concentrate on the suitcase” she said while showing my her index finger once again. “This suitcase might just change the rest of your life”.

She placed it carefully on the ground and started looking at how it could be opened. “If there are explosive charges involved, my words will be the last ones that you’ll remember, before we are blown to kingdom come!”

This was sounding a bit melodramatic, but I tried to keep my attention on the suitcase as much as possible.

“Do you read the newspaper, Poindexter?” she said while fidgeting around with the locks on the suitcase.

“Sure I do. The funnies with Peanuts are always good. And the weather page is always interesting. The other day I saw that it snowed in Montréal. Think of it? Snow in July. I wonder if they had snowball fights, and had to go to the emergency room after someone had put a stone in one, and had knocked out someone’s tooth?”

“I am holding my index finger up, once again. Look only at my finger. Do not take your attention away from my finger. Your life might depend on it!”

“Listen here you Ninny. There was an article recently about a highjacker who jumped out of an airplane with a suitcase filled with money. DB Cooper was his name, but you know what? They never found him, or the money again. Now what if those wind currents blew the suitcase around a bit, knocking seagulls out of the sky, and hitting a tree or two, before it finally hit the ground? Are you following me now?”

I really didn’t want to tell her, “No”, because I was afraid of her reaction. She might just poke me in the eye, or something making it necessary for me to go to the emergency room at the hospital. “We’ll need to call your parents!, you know and the police will need to be involved if a crime has been committed.

My mother would arrive, being all worried, and mad at the same time, wanting to know, how something like that could happen to me? “Was it some Cosmic Dust, or a stray bullet fired by some Canadian on the rampage?” I didn’t know how to tell her the truth, so it would end up in a new lie, thus protecting the girl next door once again. Honestly, I was getting rather good at covering my tracks, telling my mom white lies about this and that, just to keep on the good side of my mysterious friend, girl. Not”girl friend” next door.

“I see, what you are implying”. It is interesting. Very interesting.”

“Stop sounding like those guys playing Nazis on the Laugh-in show! This is serious business.”

She finally managed to loosen the locks on the suitcase, prying up the lid with a screwdriver, or two. We both looked inside and saw something like bundles of green things.

“You see, you Ninny!” Wads and wads of Greenbucks! Moola. Money. Sawbucks. Cool cash! I told you so. I did. I did!

We dove into the suitcase nearly knocking each other over in our excitement. When we began to feel the bundles, my friend’s excitement turned to anger. “We’ve been cheated! This is not money! These are just bundles of moldy socks! We’ve been gypped.

It was true, what she said. At least about it not being money. It looked like a salesman’s suitcase, filled with wares sold door to door.

“I know what happened!” she said suddenly, her anger turning to joy. “It was a traveling salesman. He happened upon a farmhouse, where DB Cooper was holed up. The only person there that day was the Farmer’s Daughter, who obviously switched the money for the Salesman’s socks. The old Switcheroo, it is as old as the hills! That means that the money is still out there somewhere, probably at a nearby farmhouse. She probably wooed him with her womanly charms, then pursed her lips, and….

She should not have said lips again. Not again. I wondered how women did that, purse their lips that is. Is it the same as pucker? There are just too many things to think about this summer. Way too many things.

Did she say lips?…………….



Writing Letters – Long Hand

I am in the process of writing a letter. Really! Writing a letter in the good old-fashioned way by hand.

I must admit, to not having done such a thing for at least 10+ years, and something that should be easy, is extremely hard.

It seemed to go all right in the beginning, but after having only printed short notes in a non-cursive style, it was an extremely difficult endeavor trying to write long hand once again. It has become a sort of printed + long hand style, not being the one nor the other.

Commas seem to be in the right place, but errors are giving me a headache of sorts. The one thing is not knowing, if I’ve spelled incorrectly, or not! I know that the PCs spell-checker is not perfect, but it does work for the most part.

I also seem to get some cramping in my hand. Granted, I am not as young as I used to be, but even back then, I didn’t have the most correct way of holding a pen, which gave me some difficulties when having to write over longer periods of time. With the advent of computers, I left my former habits and writing styles behind, hoping never to return to them again!

Then why is it important to do so now? Well, you see I have a friend who is visiting me from Canada. She had requested once that I send her such a letter, as she liked corresponding in the “Old Fashioned Way”. I’ve considered the idea once in a while, but it happens to be now, that she is visiting Denmark, and is almost done so, without getting a present from me. That fact is both frustrating, because I don’t know just what to give her, as it is difficult with my time running out.

So that is why I find myself, struggling to remember how to write with pen and paper, using both long hand, and printed letters, in my old cramped, ouch, style of writing!

I am writing this blog at the same time that I am penning the other letter. I must admit that this way, writing on the PC, is far easier, than having to think about the shape of my letters, or if my spelling is correct.

long hand

Here is an excerpt of my letter, but I wouldn’t call it pretty or, inspiring. It is what it is, and won’t be anything more than that. The one advantage it has over a computer generated image, is that it is very personal, when written by hand. I have made this particular gift even more personal by writing it in both English and Danish, so it is like getting the best of both worlds, in a less than perfect way.

Well, the letter is done now, being placed in an envelope which is not new, but has a certain meaning for the both of us. I know that it won’t be the last letter that I’ll be writing, but my hand can recover its flexibility, until that happens once again.

I guess, it’s sort of like riding a bicycle, you might not be an expert, with your wobbling, and uncertain technique, but it will surly come back to you after a while.

And it’s much safer than having a blow-out, a flat far away from home, or that feeling that you are not in shape like you were when you were 18!


Making Money – Chapter 10 (The Girl Next Door)

“Look here, you Ninny”. I’ve just about had it with you. I’m talking about washing cars, and you are looking at me with your Goo-Goo eyes, mumbling something about “the cops, and a cigarette”. Pull yourself together, or it will be Sayonara from this Girl next door!”

OK. I guess, I’ve let my mind wander a bit too much. I just get carried away when thinking of how my life might end up, when I am together with my friend? You’d think she’d be sad and regretful, not giving me another kiss, or something? I’ve started carrying a package of Certs, ready to pop one in my mouth, if I had the feeling that a kiss was on its way. The fact of the matter being that she has surprised me at least twice before with a kiss, before I even knew what had happened! “Hit and run”, you might say!

I stood there searching in my right pocket for one right now, while she looked at me like I was some sort of an addle-headed boob. “What are you doing now, fiddling around in your pocket?” Are you ready for my plan, or what?”

I had actually found, what I hadn’t been looking for, a hole in my pocket where my Certs used to be! Oh well, it probably won’t be my lucky day today! I hope not anyway, while testing my breath by blowing it into my cupped hand.

“Look here, you. We are going to go into the Car-washing business. We can hit all of the houses in the neighborhood and offer them our Opening Special! Wash your car, and clean your windows for $5. Cheap at twice the price, but for you, dear neighbors, a special price today. Well, What do you think?”

It seemed like a good idea to me, other than the fact that we really didn’t know much about washing cars. Not me anyway, but things like that didn’t stop her. She didn’t wait for my answer, before she stomped up to the first house, and rang the doorbell. She then stepped to one side, pretty much out of sight of the house owner, and waited for the door to open. “Hurry up, you Ninny. Now it’s your turn to use our Sales Pitch!”

I just stood there looking rather perplexed when the door opened, and a woman looked out at me. “Well, what is it young man?”.

I…I’d like to offer you a car wash for the measly fee of $5. I’ll make it shine like the top of the Chrysler Building ( I threw that one in to make it sound like I’d been in New York and stuff).

“Well, I don’t know. I guess, it would keep you young people out of trouble if you were learning about the value of money! OK. I’ll try it out. The hose is around the back, when you are ready. Just knock on the door, when you are finished!”

And with that she went back inside, leaving me on her doorstep not quite sure what I had gotten myself into. “Good job, you Ninny! And with that she kissed me again, without having had a Peppermint Certs in my mouth, thinking about that bowl of Grape Nuts with the Sour Milk Taste still being in my mouth after all those hours, and how I didn’t get to enjoy it again..

The kiss. Not the Grape Nuts with Sour Milk! I wasn’t that much of a Breakfast Fanatic.

With that over and done with, she pulled out a bucket of soapy water out of nowhere and pushed a sponge into my sweaty hands. “You start to wash the car, while I get some towels to dry it with.”

“Hey, My dad has a Shammy we could use!” I added quickly.

“You and your foreign words! Trying to impress a girl, or something? It is a Chamois, you Ninny. That’s French, you know? Trying to get the girl by sweet-talking her with French? Well, save it for Sunday! I don’t have time for your Je t’aime, or Chamois cloth, type of silly business! Get a move on, and we’ll be counting our first $5 in a few hours, if we’re lucky!”

Even though I was confused, and things, I got to work like she said. I soaped the whole thing and after a while, I was wetter than it was. I hosed it off and was getting a bit tired when she showed up again with a bundle of rags, looking like some bed sheets borrowed from someone’s laundry line.

“Here you go. I’ll just help you out by doing the necessary detail work on the rest of the car while you do the drying.”

She wandered over to the radio antenna, and began to bend it back and forth. “You see this, Poindexter? They just don’t make them like they used to. My Uncle has a car with an antenna which can be bent all the way to the car hood. Like rubber and all, that is the way they should be!” Suddenly the metal, not being rubber kind of type of antenna, made a snapping sound leaving the top part of the antenna in my friend’s hand. “You see, faulty workmanship!”

Now I had come from being confused to being worried that the car’s owner would come out at that instant, and see what was left of her radio antenna. “Fix it, or do something” I cried trying to finish up the job, wringing out the sheets, putting the finishing touches on the drying job.

“Look here, you” she showed me how she found a think stick and placed it inside the bottom part of the antenna, then in the top part. “See, it looks just like new! When she is out and about having parked her car in the wrong side of town, where those antenna-snapping hooligans run around, not having anything else to do than messing up people’s lives, her antenna might just break again!”

And with that, she disappeared around the corner of the house, just as the owner made her appearance. “Wow, great job! I can see myself in the paint job and everything. It is well worth the money and you know what? You should come by again in a month or so, my car will be the talk of the neighborhood!”

Pocketing the money and gathering up the bucket and things, I was ready to take my leave. I looked around for my friend, but she wasn’t anywhere to be found. I moved on to the next house, where someone was home, and tried my sales pitch once again, now having the privilege of pointing in the direction of my first job, and bragging a bit about how good the car looked!

One job led to another, with my services being in demand, just by word of mouth. My friend stayed mainly in the shadows, keeping her antenna-breaking-hands away from the Dodges and the Fords, the Chryslers and the Chevrolets. At the end of the day, my hands were both sore and wrinkly, and my clothes almost completely soaking wet. I had earned somewhere over $25, as some of the people felt that $5 was too much to pay for what they got out of it. All the same, I felt that the day was worth it, and started home, before my mother was out and about, wondering why I wasn’t at home, drooling about her upcoming evening meal.

When I got close to my house, my friend suddenly jumped out from behind a tree, and stopped me dead in my tracks. “Well, well,well. What do we have here? A young man whose pocket are filled with cash, just waiting to shower his riches upon the girl of his dreams! What a lucky day it is for the two of us!”

The thought that she was the girl of my dreams, was not entirely true, but if she wanted to believe that, then I guess it was all right.

My friend seemed to be blocking my path, not letting my tired bones get home, before they collapsed on the ground in front of her.

“Well, what was the day’s take? Are we millionaires yet, or did you slouch around all day?”

I didn’t feel like arguing at that moment. My hands were all raw from being in a bucket of soapy water all day, and it seemed like there wasn’t one dry part on my whole body.

I pulled out the money out of my wet pocket, with some of the bills sticking to the sides, allowing the rest to tumble out on the ground. She moved as fast as quicksilver, mercury, you know, when someone had inadvertently broken the outside thermometer.

OK. There might have been a slingshot involved, and it might have acted like a loaded weapon, and it might just have gone off, when someone wasn’t looking at what he was doing, and hoping instead to catch a glimpse of the girl next door through her bathroom window, which wasn’t easy to do, with it, the bathroom that is, being on the top floor and all! Then there was the shattering of glass followed by the thermometer not being able to tell us the correct temperature anymore, which then caused his mother to react, telling his father that the young man had gone wrong once again, while practicing to be enrolled in the local league of hooligans!

Where was I? The girl next door just stood there, waiting for my daydreaming to end, before she made her next comment.

“I’ve been counting the money, while you’ve been gone on one of your out of town trips, and I must say that you’ve been a busy boy today! Just think of how much money we will have by the end of the summer! I bet we’ll make more money than selling seeds, or Grit like it says on the back of comic books. Hello, are you listening at all? Did you ever order any of that junk on the back of those comics?”

I do admit to being tempted by ordering Sea Monkeys, by mail order sales. I only use the word tempted in my mind, or my mother would hit the roof, or the sky if she heard me talking about devilish things! When I approached my parents with that idea, or the one to sell something else like American Seeds than my mother jumped in, before my father could say anything and said that even though it had the word American in it, there was probably a communist hiding behind every word in the advertisement!

“No. No I just thought how nice it would be to buy a new Sissy bar for my bike, that’s all.”

She just looked at me like I fell off the apple cart today, and shook her head. “Look here. The important thing about money is being able to buy presents for your loved ones. You know? Your parents, your dog and your girlfriend. The most important being your girlfriend. She is not going to say no to flowers or candy, but you don’t know anything about that, do you? All you think about is your Sissy Bar on your bike! I think the best thing, is for me to keep it safe for you, until you learn the value of money! I can help you to buy a present for that certain, special someone, if of course you ever stop daydreaming about her, and say what is in your heart!”

I just looked at her, but she was gone by the time I opened my mouth to reply. What would I reply? It’s hard to say?….




Dog Talking

I do a lot of talking to my dog. He never seems to object though.

He is still a young dog of 5+ months. Everything is still new and exciting to him, having the whole world at his feet.

My old dog was 8 year’s old when he ran into trouble with a large Rottweiler. He needed to be put to sleep, which was a harder blow than I could imagine. At 8 years, he was only ½-way through his expected life expectancy, being a poodle and a small one at that.

He never got above 3.1 Kg, which made other people with larger dogs, not consider him to be a real dog. But he was, and I never considered him to be anything but a real dog.

My new dog is a bit larger, already weighing in at 5½ Kg. He is also a poodle, but a larger sort of small dog. When we are out and about, walking in the same places as my old dog, I tend to talk to him, telling him about how I’d been there before and with who. He seems to listen, but it is hard to say if he understands entirely?

When I was walking my old dog, he would hesitate when we entered an area of tall grass. He relinquished the lead to me, accepting the position of number 2 in our “Pack”. If he thought the danger, or the grass was extremely high, he would stop and look up at me, as if to say “Pick me up now”. Which I did, until he felt safe again, or the grass in the forest gave way to the more open meadow grass. All was then forgotten and we went on our way, with him in the lead.

My new dog and I, were on a similar path this evening. He is at least one head taller, than my old dog, which combined with the carelessness of youth, meant that he walked in the lead, no matter how tall the grass was. It was, however, the barking of a large dog, heard close by, which changed his attitude intensely. No matter how much I held him, and spoke to him, would he be assured that the danger was over. Finally, we did an about face, and returned the way we came, which seemed all right to him once again.

I continued to talk to him well knowing that he wouldn’t respond, but I felt better doing so, all the same. I know that my new dog is not my old dog, and we won’t be doing things exactly the same way as before. It doesn’t seem to matter, and he seems to have accepted, that I continue to name his predecessor, whenever we are out and about. I’m sure they would have gotten along with each other, so the transition from the one to the other, seems to acknowledge that fact!

Old dog named Otto. 8 Years Old.


New dog named Coco. 5½ Months


Coco head 13020035_10207709409165037_1149768222_n

Oh Very Young, and now with his friends.

I hope when he is finished with being a young dog at around 1 year, he will look fondly back on his youth and teenage months, and remember that his owner was not so silly after all….

Like my two teenagers, should also remember….


Cars and Other Things – Chapter 9 (The Girl Next Door)

I thought, I was dreaming. Searchlights were scouring the skies, kind of like the Grand Opening of the local car dealership.

“Buy your new Chevrolet today! Why wait until you’ve struck oil on your property, or your ship has come home -Buy that dream car today, and finance it by paying no money down! Just think of what the neighbors will say, when you proudly drive up to your house, sporting the newest model, with Electric this, and Good Old American that! Why buy one of those Anti-American Foreign Jobs, when you could be helping the American Trade Deficit! Bla, Bla, Bla.”

I saw lights in the darkened night sky. Maybe it was during WWII when those big searchlights tried to find the Allied Bombers, filling the skies over Dresden. I used to watch Combat re-runs every week on TV. Vic Morrow didn’t take a back seat to anyone! He always had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and was all dirty and tired-looking. My mother didn’t think that he was a good influence on a young fellow like me, and tried to get me to watch something more wholesome instead. I suggested Green Acres, because I told her my dream of being a farmer someday. When she went into the kitchen, or out to beat the rugs on the laundry line, I switched the channel back to Combat to see if Vic Morrow had yelled at some poor Canadian in that episode. It was really authentic, and I could imagine myself….

“Hey Poindexter” yelled a familiar voice. I looked out of my window to the house across from me. A bright flashlight had been swirling about my window, as if the local car dealer was having a grand opening, and…”We haven’t got all night, you know”. “Look you, tomorrow I want you to meet me down the street, near the big Maple Tree towards the City Park. Don’t wear your Sunday Best, because we have work to do!”

“10am – don’t be late, or suffer the consequences!” she said before she slammed her window leaving me alone in the darkness.

“Who is yelling in the night, when all self-respecting, god-fearing folk are trying to get a good night’s sleep!” Uh, oh. My mother was on the warpath. I hurried back into bed, covering myself as much as possible, expecting a bed inspection any minute. “Any Contraband?” The guard would prod the bed with his baton. “Cigarettes, Drugs, and knives are not allowed!” I rolled over once again, hoping that it wasn’t my turn to face the music, being discovered at last. I looked at my Gideon Bible, and thought of reading a few passages in the New Testament in order to guide me on the righteous path. “The Lord is my shepherd, I……..

The next day began with the sun shining brightly into my bedroom window. The events of the past night continued to roll around in my head, being all jumbled up with Prison Walls, the Girl next Door, and Vic Morrow, and his cigarette. I looked at my alarm clock: 9:30am. What was I supposed to do today? I wasn’t supposed to feed the dog, as we still didn’t have one of those furry nuisances, so it must have been going to Church, or something. Nope it was a weekday, which would have made my mother suspicious, if I mentioned Church on a Wednesday!

“Are you thinking of being some sort of Clergyman, or something?” she asked me with raised eyebrows.  “I could tell the neighbors, Yes, my son is a Man of the Cloth! A Holy Roller, the next Radio Preacher on KXXX, or WGGG. He’ll be making the blind walk again, or the lame to see. I would have to press his collar each week, and we’d have to be in the front pew, in our Sunday Best, of course, waiting for his inspiring words of wisdom. That is, if I can drag Jack away from his precious Garage Workplace, and his greasy monkey overalls? My boy would be the next Billy Graham, and…..

Nope, it wasn’t Sunday today, but I knew that I had to do something or other at 10am, which meant that I needed to get dressed, and eat a healthy breakfast, like the Astronauts did, with Wheaties, or Grape Nuts and good old American Milk, not like the stuff that they drink in Canada, or something. I think my mother felt sorry for all those foreigners outside of the USA, who weren’t able to drink wholesome, Vitamin-D enriched, Good Old American Milk, making strong bodies and minds. She used to tell me, that I should steer clear of Canada, and those other foreign places, as they were jealous of the really good things that we had in the USA. She said that they tried to copy our values and products, and even told their own people that their Canadian Cows were just that, and not really having been sneaked over the border in the dead of night, wearing army boots to disguise their footprints and everything.

I just nodded and told her “thank you for breakfast”, before I rushed out the door and headed toward the City Park.

I really thought that this summer would last forever. It seemed to be so, with every day being just like the last, as if time had stood still for me. My Father was in his garage every day after work, and weekends too, while my mother was taking care of Church Socials, Cake bakes, and other important things to enrich our God and the Community!

I did my usual summer business, with household chores, reading novels and waiting until the next Mickey Mouse-Donald Duck Comics Collection was ready to hit the stores. I knew when it should be available, and I rode my bike to the local drugstore, pulling up in front with my Schwinn bike, with its banana seat, and sissy bar. If girls would only see how Groovy those things were, then I’d get myself a girlfriend on that basis alone! “Can I touch your Banana Seat? she’d say being all nice-looking with a big smile on her face. Her friends would ask her, “if it was serious between us?”, and would wait until she looked the other way, in order to flirt with me themselves.

“Hey you!” Come out of Dreamland for a minute, before you get run down by someone!”

I knew that voice immediately. The Girl Next Door was waving to me, while standing next to the big Maple tree, and chewing on a piece of grass. The girl was doing the chewing, not the maple tree, that is. My mother says that I tend to mix up things when I say them. “Are you listening to me at all?”, she said. “Come over here and wipe that goofy grin off your face, as it some knucklehead girl told you something that made you weak in your knees! This is no time for silly business right now! This is about serious stuff!”

We walked alongside each other for a while, until we came to a row of houses. “Look over there and tell me what you see?”

I looked and looked. Hmm. Crabgrass and screen doors. Peeling paint and ….”No, not that stuff. Look at the cars. The cars you Ninny!”

At the sound of “Ninny” I stopped my daydreaming for a while and looked at the cars. And what? They were just cars, and nothing else. “Do I have to do all the thinking? The cars are dirty! Filthy Dirty! And standing here on this very spot are 2 of the most experienced, well-trained car washers this side of Montréal!”

Right then and there, I knew I was in for trouble, when she mentioned Canada. She seemed to know instinctively, which things would surely tick my mother off!

“First that girl, then Canadians  – I’m warning you, you are heading toward wreck and ruin, if you continue with that sort of riff-raff!” If I told your father once, I’ve told him a million times, how we should move away to a neighborhood where just our kind lives, and not every other Tom, Dick and Harry from God knows where! Why did the rest of the world decide to settle down in our neighborhood? If only I wasn’t that lone sheep, crying out in the wilderness for help, if only…”

“Where are you this time?” a voice suddenly asked me. “Are you going to visit our planet for a bit, or should I leave you alone with your Martian Bikini Babes, while I am raking the dough in?”

Why did she mention Bikini Babes? It’ll just start me thinking again. I wonder what she would look like in a bikini, and…no. No, I wasn’t ready to go down that road as yet. I tried to collect my thoughts and just smile a bit, while nodding me head in an understanding way.

“OK. I can see you are trying to listen, for what that’s worth.” Here is my plan: we could make a whole lot of money,  you and me. Abe Lincolns you know? Moola, Greenbucks, Dough, Big Bucks, are you following me?”

I was, and I wasn’t. She was talking about money, and her and I in the same sentence. That much I understood. “You mean, we are going to get money somehow. Are you talking about robbing banks, or rolling old people in the crosswalk?” said while trying to second-guess what she would say next.

“Look here. Do think of me as some sort of criminal? Well, do you?” – I shook my head from side to side, looking like I would take a bullet for her if necessary. Probably during the bank heist, that is. “Now they’ve seen our faces, you Ninny. Now we’ll have to shoot our way out, and be on the lam.”

Being hunted from town to town, trying to find the one-armed man, who killed my wife. I would be the Fugitive, and she would be…No, then we would have to be Bonnie and Clyde, with me being Warren Beatty, and her being Faye Dunaway. Either we would clear my name, allowing me to live a normal life again going back to my hospital practice, or we would die in a shootout with our bodies filled full of lead. We could also be Butch Cassidy, but that was also about 2 guys. I think, even though I would die in the end, that it would be better hanging out with Faye Dunaway, living and loving until the Fuzz finally caught up with us in the end!

Toss me a cigarette baby, while the cops close in on us, and tell me that you love me……