CHINA

CHINA

In January of 1982, I went to Peking and Hong Kong for a couple of weeks. It was with a large tour who was accompanied by a Chinese Tour Guide. She was a young University grad who spoke some English and had a good sense of humour. Her name was Miss Khaw.

The flight from Atlanta, GA. stopped in San Francisco for Air China to take us to Peking. While refueling in Shanghai, we were told to get off the aircraft and were made to stand outside in the freezing cold, dark night with soldiers watching us. They were armed with rifles, wearing dark brown trench coats with fur hats and gloves.

I saw a Coca-Cola machine and started to walk towards it but heard a rifle cocked at me and the soldier said something loud in Chinese. I went back to my spot. Their small airport was closed and bolted; we had to wait to use the bathroom on our airplane.

Peking, now called Bejing, had a huge airport and after gathering our many pieces of luggage, we were bussed to our 'hotel'. Everywhere we went the Chinese people would stop in their tracks to stare and whisper. It was with admiration and awe and when we smiled and nodded, they would smile and bow.

We were told that only one other American tour had preceeded us and it was IBM. The babies and small children got all of my attention as I had just left a 7 month old son at home in Atlanta. They were all black haired and pudgy in their too-large clothing; very sweet and precious.

The Chinese are very family oriented and live in a three or four generation 'home'. Our Guide told us she was the daughter of a couple who had eight children and who's parents, her grandparents, all lived in two rooms. All they owned were their bicycles which they paid in installments for from the Communist government. Their one-story houses were all connected to one another in rows; made of cement grey slab.

When asked what her goals and desires were, she smiled broadly and said "Oh; I go to Hong Kong before I die; that is my wish!" When I invited her to join us there the following week she replied "Oh no; my government does not permit us to leave China; maybe one day before I am too old."

While at the Great Wall of China, it was snowing and the temperature was minus 44F. All that was visable were our eyes as we had everything else covered. When we were taken into a shop, it was always unheated and darkened. One did not try anything on; just bought the merchandise and left as soon as possible.

Everything closed up tight by 5 pm each day of the week. The heat and water in our hotel was turned off at 6 pm and all there was to do was to go to sleep. (the small black and white TV was in Chinese). So we awoke at 4 am when I would stand at the window to feel the heat from the radiator and watch millions of bicycles all traveling quickly towards one destination....work. The only vehicles were a few taxis and dark Government vehicles as well as some Military vehicles.

They all wore white masks to cover their noses and mouths due to the cold. Their coats and jackets were always grey or navy blue, some were dark brown or black. When I wore my colorful clothes and long white coat, they asked our Guide if I might be Elizabeth Taylor. Of course, that went right to my head!

While in China, we saw no dogs, no churches, no sports complexes, no Libraries, few restaurants or theatres. At that time, their whole focus was on survival, staying healthy and employed. But most of all, staying together as a family until death. They respected their elders and almost worshipped their parents and grandparents.

One morning, a Sunday, I awoke earlier than usual, when I heard water in the pipes and heat in the radiator. But also I heard a swarm of people muttering and murmuring loudly below. I saw approximately 300 Chinese people pointing and looking at a shop window.

Curious, I asked our Guide at breakfast what that was all about. She said that every Saturday night, the "criminals" are chosen to be executed by firing squad. Their dead bodies are published in Sunday's Communist newspaper for their friends and families knowledge.

When questioned further, she said the bodies of the 10 Chinese men most recently shot were all convicted more than once of "SHOP-LIFTING"!

She went on to say that crimes such as assault, drugs, attempted murder, murder, etc., were dealt with the same week of their convictions. It could be by be-heading or gun but they would all be dead withing the week.

The food, in 1982, was not good. It tasted nothing like the wonderful Chinese food I was used to in Canada and the USA. The beer was warm; the soups were cold; things 'moved' in our soup and we were told they were "sea cucumbers". The water was not fit to drink but we forgot and brushed our teeth with it.

Hong Kong never looked so good! It was under British rule and was prospering and alive! It was very modern and rich; we all loved it. It was also 86F. We had a boat tour and the dinner was magnificant. But we had to pass thousands of "boat people" who were begging for our crumbs. We threw them change and they cried with joy; a very pitiful sight to see. Even their farm animals were on their small boats with them.

As fate would have it, most of us came down sick with high fevers with-in 48 hours of landing in our swank, luxourious hotel, "The Shangrila". The Chinese doctor's instant diagnosis was "Microplasima." In English, we had "walking pneumonia."

The rest of the long trip is a blur as we laid in our darkened rooms with drugs and fresh water brought three times a day. It was usually by a small China man who spoke no English. We all lost many pounds and arrived on our aircraft to be covered in warm blankets for the long journey home to the United States.

Now, people come and go to China like they do to neighboring states and provinces. I'd like to return just to see the differences in 26 years. But one fact remains, they are still under Communist rule. And they still treat females as an inferior species.

But now they allow churches and religion and encourage education and individual wealth. They have always referred to their country as "our China." I'm glad I visited there when I did.

I tried on my high-necked, tight, pure silk red-printed dress the other day. Needless to say, a size 6 would not even zip up. Memories of China are some of my favourite memories of all!

"WELL, THERE!"

"WELL, THERE!"

She was only forty-six........

Once upon a time there was a very sweet little girl who was born when I was only six years old. She became just like my little sister though they moved away for awhile. Valerie was an exact replica of Shirley Temple but with blond hair. Her mother is my dear sister, Jean.

My neice was an integral and very special part of our family. My parents loved her as if she were their very own daughter; and she them. Her "Gram and Gramp" meant the whole world to her.

A wonderful sense of humour and a unique beauty all her own, she charmed everyone with-in sight. Popular and always game for anything, she could have had any profession she chose to have. She chose motherhood.

Unfortunately, neither marriage worked and she struggled with two children, lack of a full education or a career. We watched as she survived on limited means and yet, she was always up-beat and cool. Everyone adored her!

But inside, our Valerie was struggling with her own demons and felt she needed the stimuli of alcohol and cigarettes to deal the hand she'd been dealt. That was her coping mechanism and they failed her every time.

She'd often make me laugh aloud by one of her favourite sayings. When she could think of nothing else to say, she'd say "Well, there!"

A Goldie Hawn look-a-like, she could choose from any men around but she chose solitary confinement. After many failed attempts at sobriety and to overcome annorexia, Valerie slowly succumbed to her demons and left us.

She died in May, 2001, taking many broken hearts with her. The month of May always comes with a sense of loss for me, in that I will never ever forget how my world crashed the day the phone rang in my home in Georgia. "Hed, Val's dead."

She was only forty-six.

"Well, there!"

WHEN TOMORROW COMES

WHEN TOMORROW COMES

Our lives crossed for awhile
As our souls soared as one
We laughed for a mile
'Til it all came undone;
Now we dread our farewell
We'll both feel so numb
Tears will flow freely
When tomorrow comes.

When that final day is here
And we hold each other tight
Holding on to nothing
With no end in sight;
We'll walk away slowly
In opposite directions
Drive with teardrops falling
No longer have connections.

When the phone rings later
It won't be you OR me
When I open up your letter
Inside will be a key;
We know what lies ahead
More left-over crumbs
We're dreading reality
When tomorrow comes.

SOMEONE'S BEEN MISSING YOU

SOMEONE'S BEEN MISSING YOU

Some of us didn't know you
Most of us didn't show
Up to search for you
Laying in that snow;
When you were found frozen
We didn't have a clue
Now, many weeks later
Someone's been missing you.

Someone thinks of you today
And someone cries for you
Somebody asks the question
"Oh, what can we do?"
We all wait for answers
To why your life's no more
Many are here waiting
And long to close the door.

Until then, there's no rest
For you or for us
No peace, no understanding
Just ashes, dust to dust;
Someone cries for you at night
And long into the dawn
And again when the radio
Plays Karissa's song.

Soon you'll rest with Jesus
Perhaps you are today
Basking in His glory
As you hear Him say:
"Karissa, my sweet little one
Come sit on Father's knee
Someone's been missing you
And that someone was me!"

MUM

MUM

I'm not sure you'll get this letter
Before Mother's Day
But it's all I have to give
To a Mum who's gone away;
You left in such a hurry
We never said good-bye
And though I think about you
All I can say is 'why'?

Why does daddy curl my hair
And fix my favourite food?
Sometimes I hear him crying
When he gets in that mood;
He tried to sew my torn dress
And make my hair in braids
We never go on picnics now
Or march in the Parades.

My dad is my everything
Since you left our home
Now it's just the two of us
And we feel so alone;
Why did you abandon me?
I'm just nine years old
I miss going shopping
With your hand to hold.

Mother's Day means nothing now
I have no mommy left
But Father's Day is everything
My daddy and myself;
I'll ask him for a stamp now
And drop this in the mail
I hope that we can talk soon
Do they have phones in jail?

"Happy Mother's Day"

MISSING YOU

Missing you

I miss you when it's raining
And I miss you in the morn
I miss you when it's foggy
And when they blow the horn;
I miss you on the week-end
And when it's Xmas time
But darlin', I miss you most
When I don't have a dime.

We used to run around the town
And spend our time together
We were stuck just like glue
In any kind of weather;
That time up in Alaska
We nearly froze to death
And when we saw Hawaii
I couldn't catch my breath.

But we spent all our money
And you drifted far from home
I heard you went to Nashville
Then was seen way up in Nome;
I wonder if you're happy
And if you have someone
If you have some money left
Would you please send me some?

'Cuz I miss you when it's snowing
And I miss you in the Spring
When flowers are all blooming
And I hear the bluebirds sing;
I miss you every Sunday morn
And for you I'll always pine
I really miss you most of all
When I don't have a dime!

BELIEVE

BELIEVE

He walked around his gardens
Down past his swimming pool
He admired all his fancy cars
The Jaguar made him drool;
His house was like a mansion
He had almost everything
All he had ever wanted
Except a wedding ring.

Oh, he had been married
But both of them had left
For much greener pastures
He lived now by himself;
Many toys and many joys
He wasn't lonely long
But when he couldn't sleep
He'd strum a favourite song:

"I believe for everyone who goes astray
Someone will come to show the way
I believe; I believe"........

He counted all his money
And he counted all his friends
He thought he'd live forever
That it would never end;
But what he failed to realize
When all is said and done
It's not what we take with us
But how we'd first begun.

He can take his honor
And he can take his pride
He can take his self respect
Some things he cannot hide;
He can wear his birthday suit
And that's just about all
God will provide the rest
At His final judgement call.

"Every time I hear
A brand new baby cry
Or touch a leaf
Or see the sky
Then I know why
I believe!!".....

WANTED: ONE COWBOY

Wanted: One Cowboy

She wandered inside my little shop
One day in Newfoundland
Said she was 'window shopping'
Looking for a man;
She said "I've got the hat
And even bought the boots
A cowboy vest in denim
Would make me look so cute."

I asked if I could help her
Find something we might sell
To add to her wardrobe
To be a Southern belle;
"I've got it all, even chaps"
She said loud & clear
"I just need a cowboy
Like a herd needs a steer."

Well, I was rather quiet then
As I saw her stop to look
In the mirror on our wall
Like one would read a book;
She saw the lines in her face
She put her hat back on
And she left my little shop
In the middle of the morn.

I saw her later on that week
A tall man by her side
Perhaps she'd found her Cowboy
And he'd make her his bride;
His hat was white and faded
Like the gal on his arm
He strummed his old guitar
Full of southern charm.

I often wondered if she found
What she went shopping for
And if he treats her special
When she walks in the door;
With her fancy chaps and vest
Cowgirl hat with brim
I hope she found her Cowboy
And she's in love with him.

AN OFFICER & HIS LADY

AN OFFICER & HIS LADY


She walked into the darkened dance hall and immediately felt ill at ease. Smoke filled the air and the scent of cheap cologne caused her to gag. Once her eyes had adjusted to the dim light through the thick smoke, she found a small table and sat down.

Looking around the dance floor, she felt overdressed. Tight blue jeans and low-V-necked T shirts were the order of the night. She felt old in her simple blue denim dress that fell right at her knee. At least she'd worn her boots and not pumps as she had first thought she should.

In her late 30's, she didn't feel like she fit in aywhere anymore. Everywhere she went, people were in pairs and she felt like the old maid that she was. Now that her parents were both dead, she had never felt more alone. All of her siblings were married and lived in different states. It was just she & her cat, Sophie.

Friday and Saturday nights were the worse. God, how she dreaded and hated them; she longed for a nice, warm body to cling to; to awake with on Sunday mornings; to read the paper together; to get ready for church or plan a picnic or just stay in bed all morning.

"Drink? Oh, thanks. I'll just have a beer; in a glass, please."

She sipped on her cold beer and knew it would be the first of many tonight. That's why she'd taken a cab to get here; driving half-lit would cost her, her license and that would cost her a job and then where would she and Sophie be? She was just a paycheck away from homeless as it was........

He stood over her, he was so tall and big. "Care to dance?" As they swayed to the slow beat, he held her a bit too tight for her liking & his breath smelled like tobacco. They made small talk and he walked her back to her table. Before long, he was back again and offered to buy her a beer; then another.

The night moved on and the music got louder. She had drank too much, too fast and was sick. As she stayed in the ladies room throwing up, she heard the band stop playing and heard him at the door. "You ok in there?"

But she never bothered to answer him; he wouldn't understand her tears. And there wasn't anything worse than seeing a drunk woman! Besides, he just wasn't her type. "What was?" she asked herself.

She decided to walk home to sober up and she was almost to a little all-night cafe when a car pulled up. It's bright lights blinded her and she raised her arm to shield her eyes. "Can I give you a lift?"

She looked into the darkness of a police car; the officer looked to be older than she and was rather handsome in an old fashioned way.

"Oh; no. I am walking home for exercise" she said. "Sure" he thought. How many times had he heard that one? But this one looked different; dressed different; walked different.

"Listen; my shift's just ended. How about I buy you a hot coffee in this little cafe?"

"Well, I guess so. I'll meet you inside. My name's Cindi Waco."

After they had chatted and drank many cups of coffee, he ordered breakfast for both. It was 4 o'clock in the morning before they left. "I'd like to see you safely home, Cindi" he asked.

As he waited for her to go inside and heard the door lock, he slipped his phone # under the door. And though she knew little about him, she took the invitation to be friends and accepted the risk of being rejected.

On their 40th wedding anniversary, they returned to the cafe and though it was now a fancy dining establishment, they still asked if they could order breakfast. They held hands and as she looked into the retired Officer's eyes, she felt as if forty years had flashed by in a single heartbeat. He had been a wonderful, devoted husband and they were well off financially, having traveled many distant places. Life was perfectly beautiful!

She had no way of knowing it would be their last year together. When he became sick and quickly lay dying, he whispered to her one last time. "Don't be afraid." he said "Be my brave girl, my Cindi."

And just like that, he was gone. As the flag draped casket lay in front of her and she watched the police officers standing at attention beside their boss, her eyes stayed dry. She was even too sad to cry! Later, alone at his grave, the sun was going down. Her Minister asked to drive her home but she preferred to walk; she thanked him and followed his car from the cemetery.

She had to pass the restaurant where the cafe had been. She hadn't eaten all day long and suddenly knew she should.

"What'll it be, Mam?" she was asked.

"Oh, let's see. Can I still get breakfast, please?"

And she knew she'd be ok. She smiled as she remembered one of his 'surprise' gifts one time. It was a sleep-shirt that said on the front: "FEEL SAFE TONIGHT; SLEEP WITH A COP."

And she smiled as she sipped her hot coffee..........

MY STORY

MY STORY


It was Saturday and I knew the Dog Pound was only open until noon. It would be closed until the following Tuesday, so I didn't have much hope left to be adopted. My time was almost up here as the fourteen days were ready to expire and they would take me to be killed on Tuesday.

I was just 18 months old when my master brought me to this place. He'd kicked and beaten me so much I was glad to be anyplace else. I heard him say that he didn't want me anymore because I kept running away. I wonder why?

The local prisoners (called "trustees") came in to care for us. There were about 300 dogs of all shapes and sizes and breeds and ages. All that barking got on my nerves! I wasn't feeling well as I needed to be neutered and was malnourished, underweight and dehydrated. All I wanted to do was go to sleep.

Still, I had some hope left that someone might still want me as I was just 18 months old. I was a black & white, mixed breed, mainly a border collie with a tan face. My name was Nic-Nic and I was born May 25th, 1996. I had no training and felt abandoned and neglected; I missed my mother!

People often stopped outside cage Number 195 to remark that I was "cute" or had "sad eyes" with Michael Jackson eyeliner. I never said a word; I was quiet and laid down instead of hopping all over the place like some of the others. I had manners!

On this hot, Saturday morning, a woman and boy stopped to observe me. I laid low, head on crossed feet; no use getting my hopes up; still, I glanced up often. I would like to get a walk in , as I did have to pee.

They returned to study me in more detail and I heard the boy telling the lady that he had narrowed his selection down to three dogs; I was one of them! My competition was a puppy and an adult poodle.

The "trustee" unlocked my cage to put a lease around my neck to allow the dark haired lad to walk me. I immediately cocked my leg to pee on the lady's purse. But she just smiled and we continued walking. She smelled good!

When they talked and decided to adopt me, I couldn't believe it! I was so nervous that I got car sick & threw up in their white convertible. And once home, I bled all over their beige carpeting! And I refused to even eat or drink; I was so scared they'd send me back! Or beat me up.......

But they wanted me & never gave up. They patted and petted me all the time and told me how handsome I was. They made me a bowl of warm chicken-noodle soup and seemed so happy when I ate it all up. A Doctor kept me at his place all day on Monday and gave me shots and stuff. The lady even bought a health insurance policy in case I became injured or ill. I started to eat and grow. I slept with the boy and had a wonderful life; my favourite thing was to ride in the car. And the neutering wasn't so bad after all.

I just wrote this to say thanks and I hope I can live to please them for many more years. I'll be 12 in May; and they never forget my birthday. I feel like I was really born in Nov. 1997 when they named me "Camo" and saved my life.

Now I own most of Cape Sable Island, have been a "trucker" and I am wintering down South. How many people can say that? "Woof woof!!"

A.O.

A.O.

She was just a poor back-country girl
The fifth of seven kids
Born in a log cabin
So it has been said;
Her daddy died when she was six
They were Quakers, every one
And she was the model for
"Annie Get Your Gun."

Annie Oakley was a good shot
Always without fail
At 12, she shot the head
Off of a running quail;
She married at just seventeen
Joined up with Buffalo Bill
Traveled with his Wild West show
To prey and shoot and kill.

Then, in nineteen hundred and 01
A train wreck occured
Annie had been paralyzed
The whole world sadly heard;
But "Little Sure Shot" was
Determined to survive
And she toured again with Bill
Just glad to be alive!


Note:
(We're lucky to have been entertained by "Phoebe Anne Oakley Mosee" while growing up in the 40's and 50's.)