You Bet Your Blog #3

* UPDATE - we have a winner. Sandy McCarty!


This is it! The third (and final) You Bet Your Blog contest. All you have to do to win is EMAIL me with the answers to the skill testing questions listed below. These questions are necessary due to the valuable prizes offered. It is one thing to be quick but it is another thing to be accurate. Therefore the winner will have to be both. These questions are tough but fair and can be answered with a minimal amout of googling. So have fun - get your answers in and claim the prize of your choice. Oh yeah - I guess you want to know what the prizes are.

You can choose either a bottle of homemade wine or a CD of your choice from Itunes - both a $9.99 value. Wow!!
Thanks for following my blog and I hope you will continue to check back now and then - who knows, there may be a blog about you!

Here are the 7 magic questions - start googling!

When was Bob Dylan born?

Who directed the 1939 movie Gunga Din?

What is Lady Gaga's real name?

What does the J. stand for in Homer J. Simpson?

How much does the world weigh?

Who sent the first email?

What is Ulaanbaatar?

Remember - you must be the first to reply with all the correct answers. Send your answers to haynes@nbnet.nb.ca today!

Hayner and Bagley

I want to tell you more about my relationship with Jonathan Bayley whom I mentioned briefly at the end of my blog entitled "You Want Gravy with That?" Jonathan was one of a kind... and still is.

Upon reflection, it seems that I have always preferred my friends in pairs - in elementary school there was Larry Symchuk and David Raithby, in grade 5 there was Kenny Whitaker and Bobby Stevenson, in junior high there was Paul Dicks and Claudio Riva, followed by Rick Brown and Dan Brown who remain my closest pair of friends to this day. Even as an adult in Calgary my pair of friends were Richard Perlman and Rick Green. But in grade 6 Jonathan was more than enough - like I said - he was one of a kind.

Jonathan and I met at Smythe Street School and shared a strange bond in that I was always trying to avoid trouble while Jonathan was always looking for more. We also shared a love of music, since at the time I was learning to play the baritone for the Salvation Army and he was studying the violin. A natural pairing you would have to agree. But our "practice sessions" usually degraded into recording racing car noises on his father's tape recorder and playing them loud out the upstairs window from their house on Brunswick Street.

Jonathan had a nice family - his sister who mostly avoided us and his professional parents who were probably a little concerned about our lack of serious musical ambition. But they were lovely people and I was flattered when Mrs. Bayley (whom I am very fond of) once commented favorably on my singing voice after she heard my version of Wayne Newton's "Apple Blossom Time" on the aforementioned tape recorder.

Jonathan and I spent a lot of time together and his father Robin, a serious music teacher, was quite generous in taking us for long, slow drives in his vintage Rambler which I now suspect were intended mainly to keep Jonathan out of trouble. He even took us bowling (once) to keep us busy but how was he to know Jonathan would put a roll of caps in the ball return. We may have been the only 12 year olds ever kicked out of the KP Bowling Lanes for the reckless endangerment of innocent bowlers. Robin was not amused.

One of our favorite things to do was to "dine out" - which meant going to The Seven Seas restaurant on Queen Street and pretending to be important and mysterious out-of-towners. I imagine our dark sunglasses and sophisticated talk of our private plane waiting at the airport impressed many a waitress. Eventually Jonathan and I drifted apart because, to be honest, he was just too dangerous to hang out with or walk to school with. You see, Jonathan had no fear of anyone; wore his mouth on his sleeve, so to speak and he was what you might call a bully baiter. There was nothing he liked better than to point out how greasy some passing delinquent's hair was or how pointy his boots or sharp his switchblade - I am exaggerating for effect but I think you get the idea. We would remain friends but at a safe distance.

Many years later after moving to Edmonton, Alberta I was crossing a downtown street when I literally ran into Jonathan and we got back together for a while and it was like old times. I still see him when he is in town to visit his mother. He is now a well respected music professor and flautist so I guess after switching instruments he settled down after all - at least musically.

But why the title "Hayner and Bagley" you ask and well you may. A simple explanation is usually the best and the simple reason is that is what our shop teacher chose to call us - likely due to our poor writing and his poor reading. Anyway - that is the way he always referred to us during roll call despite our repeated corrections. He was a cantankerous old guy and I think he continued to do it just to rattle our chains. Maybe he just liked the sound of it... 'Hayner and Bagley - quiet!' or 'Clean up time - Hayner and Bagley - get the brooms' and so on. Actually, I like the sound of it too - it would have been a great name for our musical duo on baritone and violin. Wouldn't Robin have been proud?

Where Have all the Bullies Gone?

I hear and read a lot about bullying in schools these days and I think it is time I made myself clear on the topic. First of all - you can stop bullies but you can't stop bullying. And second of all - there are no real good bullies anymore. Oh there are lots of little jerks and assholes running around and that is where the real problem lies - but when it comes to true bullying, when they broke Stephen Lyons - they broke the mould. And I know - I was there....

That is a pretty good facsimile of Stephen just to the right, only he didn't usually look that friendly. I first met him in 1963 when I lived on York Street after just moving to town from Devon - a hotbed of bullying if ever there was one; being conveniently located right next door to the Indian Reserve. And before that I lived in Oromocto where we had army bullies moving into town on a weekly basis. So I was quite comfortable with the concept of bullying by the time I reached the tender age of 7 when the local bully's favorite pastime was kneeling on my chest and whiling away those precious recess moments melting chunks of snow in my eyes. I never knew his name but he was in bad need of a shave (in grade 2) and he worked alone - and to me that is the hallmark of a true bully. Stephen Lyons worked alone too.

As I said, I met Stephen in 1963 when I went to Smythe St. School - grade 6. I was the new kid so that made me fair game - fresh meat so to speak. And of course I transgressed the first rule of Bullydom - I made eye contact with him. How was I to know? Anyway - it was a fun year of Stephen's constant threats on my life if I didn't let him copy my work, endless promises of my imminent death after school etc. But strangely enough I survived that year by being "befriended" by yet another bully who felt Stephen was encroaching on his territory - apparently bullies have their own code of ethics. Who knew?

However, even the protection afforded by this fortunate situation could not postpone the inevitable "after school" showdown which came one Friday afternoon. Stephen and I were to meet on Saunders Street for the whipping I so well deserved (after all - I did look at him). I was terrified but had decided that I would take my father's advice and live or die with the consequences. The advice that fathers gave in those days regarding bullies was to face them down and go for the first punch. So that is what I did - I let one go right into his surprisingly soft stomach and down he went. I had expected a brick wall but it was more like poking the Pillsbury Doughboy. And that was it - it worked! And miraculously Stephen and I became friends from that day on. Not that I wanted to be his friend but I guess that is part of the code.

Stephen did not stop being a bully at that point - he only stopped bullying me. We both moved on to a new school where he continued his "career" until he eventually went too far and had to be dealt with on a much higher level - the principal of our new school - Dick McCormick. Mr. McCormick did not abide bullying in his school - that was HIS job. So inevitably Stephen was called out of the classroom one day and "cured" by Mr. McCormick - respectfully out of sight but strategically within hearing range. Stephen got what he deserved and was made to reveal himself as the coward he was. Stephen took early retirement from bullying on that day and I believe Dick may have even influenced the future career plans of more than a few would be bullies who were witness to Stephen's downfall. Cruel? Maybe... Effective? Definitely.

What am I saying here? Do I condone this type of action in today's world? Of course not - but I also wish that something equally powerful and decisive could be done to deal with the mean spirited troublemakers who continue to make life so miserable for their undeserving targets on and off the playground. These kids are not bullies - they are mostly spoiled brats who seek safety in numbers and who have no fear at home or at school and whose parents would no doubt stand up for them against their victims. Like I said before - real bullies work alone.

On the old '70s TV show All in the Family Archie Bunker once claimed that the best way to stop airline hijacking was to "arm your passengers" and oddly enough he wasn't far off the mark considering the fact that all international flights now have armed air marshals. Perhaps it's time we put the real "bullies" back where they belong - in the principal's office. Maybe I am serious and maybe I'm not, but if anyone has any better ideas I would love to hear them.

Last week I decided it was time to haul the old equipment out of storage and hope it hasn't seized up over the winter. It has pretty much been stationary since last fall. As expected, the frame is a little bent but it is still sturdy even though it's beginning to show a little age. The seat is well worn and has a few wrinkles but it is still soft and serviceable. A couple of the valves are leaky and it has been losing air but that happens to all the older models. It is a little stiff and creaky at first but once I pump some fresh air into it and apply a little elbow grease everything works just fine. All in all it has held up pretty well all these years with minimal maintenance. But enough about my body, I just hope my bicycle is still in as good condition. And here is the reason why....

Meals on Wheels Fredericton is holding its first annual Wheels for Meals Bike-a-Thon on May 3oth 2010. I am looking for sponsors to help me raise money for this worthy cause. I will be attempting the grueling 20 km route so if you would like to sponsor me for $10.00 that would work out to about .50 cents per km - a pretty good deal assuming I make it the whole way (medics will be standing by....). I will be checking the comments section for your name and pledge amount - please sign up as soon as possible as this must be registered before May 24th.

Thanks for helping Meals on Wheels to continue providing nutritious, balanced and affordable meals to those who are in need of this assistance - hopefully I won't be one of them after the 20 km ride.

For more information click here.

You Want Gravy with That?

I can't remember the last time I had large order of fish and chips with vinegar on the chips and real tartar sauce on the side and that is a shame. A damn shame! And I plan to do something about it real soon but until I do I guess it will make a good topic for my blog. Today's topic - fish and chips, but mostly chips.

I guess if you grew up in Fredericton "in the day" the popular consensus would be that Blighty's was the best place in town for fish and chips. It was located down on the river front near what is now the fake lighthouse - where any self respecting fish and chip shop should be located. Blighty's was actually a little bit before my time but I have heard many testimonials as to their fare and I believe in the legend. Fish and chip shops lend themselves very well to legend. Personally I subscribe to the legend known as Frank's Fish and Chips - when Frank's was located on the Exhibition grounds not downtown near the library which, I am told by a reliable source, was their original location.

Frank's was a rough and ready sort of place - plywood construction, a couple of deep fryers and a cash box. But on any given night or weekend the counter was always lined up ten abreast and ten deep. And why not - where else could you get an order of fries for 15 cents, walk around eating them with a little wooden fork and them wash it all down with a Swamp water? Ah - Frank's was a treat.

A little further down the food chain was the Lucky Lunch - or if you prefer, the Rucky Runch. The Lucky Lunch is legendary for several reasons - not the least being the superior service offered to each and every customer by Rocky the owner. The food at the Lucky Lunch was good, not fancy but very good. But to me the main attraction was the special ambiance of the place. There was a protocol to being served at the Lucky Lunch - somewhat like the Soup Nazi episode on Seinfeld. You would line up at the back door of the store and enter respectfully to be "next" - that was the greeting given to each customer. NEXT! And once your order was given you were not dismissed until it had been determined if you wanted gravy or not. It was more than a mere suggestion that you should order the gravy. "GRAVY!?" - was it a question or an order? Difficult to tell, equally difficult to refuse and few did.

But the fries were things of legend - I know, I was there. The fries at the Lucky Lunch had to be seen and eaten to be believed. I took my whole family there one summer afternoon and we shared a large order of fries and the four of us could not finish them! We took them home and had the rest for supper! I took Steve Wood, a co-worker from out of town with me and told him he could not finish even a medium fries and he laughed at me. Steve thought he had seen it all - that was until he received his order of fries - with gravy. No one could finish a large fries from the Lucky Lunch - no one!

The other unique aspect of the Lucky Lunch was the processing of each order. You would give your order to Rocky who wrote it down on a pad and then hollered the order to his father who was the cook. Father would pick a potato out of 50 lb bag, carefully peel it, slice it into huge wedges by hand and lower the basket into the hot grease. Then he would sit down on his stool and wait. And this was during rush hour. Once the fries were done he would raise the basket and shake of the excess grease, then dump them into a cardboard serving tray lined with butcher paper. This process never varied - it would be repeated until each customer was served. The Lucky Lunch was consistent in its hours of operation too, 11:30 - 1 PM for lunch and 5:30 - 7 PM for supper. Most of the orders were takeout but there was a small dining area with stools for the truly dedicated. It was always quiet in there - serious eaters only.

An interesting aside... I had a friend, Jonathan Bayley who for some reason brought out the very worst in Rocky. I don't know what Jonathan ever did to him but if he so much as entered the store, Rocky would leave his counter and chase him down the street with a cleaver screaming what I can only assume were Chinese obscenities! I guess I will never know the reason but I have always suspected that maybe, just maybe he refused the gravy.

You Bet Your Blog #2

This is You Bet Your Blog #2 – for those of you who missed the first contest just click right here to see You Bet Your Blog #1. The winner of that contest was none other than Julie Haynes - congratulations to her on receiving her 8 x 10 framed picture of me. Unfortunately she is disqualified from the current contest due to some irregularities.

The rules are the same as before - the first one to post a comment revealing the secret word will win a prize. The secret word is "mail" and the prize is a letter. That's right - you will receive an actual handwritten letter addressed to you and written in longhand by someone you know - me. Just think of it. A personal letter written with flowing ink on fine bond paper, neatly folded and securely sealed inside an envelope, addressed to you personally, emblazoned with a real stamp, dropped in a mailbox, sorted, postmarked and delivered by an agent of Canada Post right to your door or mailbox. Imagine that!

So hurry and post those comments today so you can receive your letter as soon as possible. Don't forget to include your mailing address to ensure prompt delivery. And be sure to be on the lookout for the third and final You Bet Your Blog #3 coming soon. Good Luck to all (except Julie)!

Welcome to the Pod Party

I did something alone in bed last night that I haven't done since I was about 15 years old....


Still there...? Then read on if you dare, don't worry - this is only the conclusion of "One Ear on the World."


Actually what I did in bed was listen to a British game show that I have not heard since 1966 when it used to be on every Sunday night. It is called My Word and it was on the air from 1957 to 1990 with at least two of the original cast members. The general idea is that the panelists identify the meaning of obscure words and then make up a witty story about a famous quotation at the end of the show - funniest story wins. Much more entertaining than it sounds, I assure you. But such is the wealth of content available in the age of the podcast.

I have come quite late to the Pod Party but I am making up for lost time and I will admit I have become addicted to downloading and listening to podcasts. My first fix was A Prairie Home Companion (the inspiration for this blog) which I have been listening to for several years but mostly streamed from their website. Now I download it and several others automatically using Itunes, sync it to my Zen (no Ipod yet) and folks there ain't no turning back.

My other current favorite podcasts are Stuff You Should Know, This American Life and Freakonomics and these are enough to keep me tuned in - at least for now. Here are some of the wide ranging topics that keep me coming back for more:

How Scabies Works

Noodling

10 Odd Town Festivals

NUMMI - how Toyota tried to teach GM how to make reliable cars

Pen Pals - a 10 year old girl's correspondence with Manuel Noriega

Barn rage in Lake Wobegon

and on and on and on...

Oh I still listen to music now and then when I have time - but that is what stereos are made for. When I am out walking around give me a documentary on the Salem witch trials or the Large Hadron Collider any day!

The experience of listening to podcasts on a portable device is a world away from the tinny sound of my old transistor radio that served me so well back in the day. Technology does not always make things better but in this case they got it right. Lots of fascinating, intelligent content, ease of use, affordable (free) and best of all - nice shiny black and silver earbuds, two of them - one for each ear.