IT’S NEARING MIDNIGHT, CHRISTMAS, AND THE END OF OCTOBER
In this issue of the Reader, your faithful correspondent writes about the night Sears presented him with a weighty dilemma, how one child came away from Wendy’s with a smile on her face, and the supposed benefits of eating rye bread.
This week: a 4-minute read
A TIMELY DECISION, THANKS TO SEARS
The Sears store in Windsor, Ontario’s Devonshire Mall has now met the fate of just about all the old Sears’ stores in Canada. It was torn down. Crushed. Demolished. Obliterated.
Sad. Sorta.
Still, news coverage of the demolition brought back a lot of memories for many folks, including a rather vivid one for me. When my former wife and I were expecting our first child, the due date was Nov. 5, 1978. I remember that particular detail because in the weeks beforehand, we went by the Sears store to stock up on all the baby stuff new parents need in a nursery: you know, a crib and mattress, a dresser, change table, blankets and supplies, the whole nine yards.
Then came the clinker. As we paid for all our goodies, several hundred of what were 1978 dollars, the clerk made us mindful of a promotion they had for new parents. Fill out a form for when the baby was due and, if the happy arrival was indeed on that day, Sears would pay for all the stuff we bought there. Bonus! There was a qualifier, though. It had to be either a natural delivery or, if not, then an unscheduled procedure.
Fast forward several weeks and it’s the evening of Nov. 4. Kim had been in labour for several hours by this point, and regretfully not making a lot of progress. Along about 11:25 p.m., the doctor came to see me. To ensure the health of both mother and child, he said, they would need to perform a caesarian.
“When?” I asked.
“As soon as possible. Maybe 15 minutes.”
I looked at my watch. Hmm, I thought, that takes us to quarter-to-12. Dare I ask if they wait another 15 minutes, to say 12:01 on Nov. 5? No, no. Better not, I thought, listening to my better angels.
The baby was perfect. Still is. Shannon Elizabeth McConnell.
KEEPING THE MAGIC ALIVE
The other day, we were having lunch at a Wendy’s next to a couple with two small children. The older of the two, a girl, was maybe six or seven.
I could see from the corner of my eye that the little girl kept sneaking a peek at me. Finally, I turned to her, smiled, and said, “Hi, there.” She returned the greeting … and kept looking.
I’d seen that look before. It usually comes from kids who suspect they’ve spotted Santa Claus out-of-season and incognito. So as Mrs. Claus and I got up to leave, I leaned over and whispered in her ear. Her eyes grew wide as she looked up and beamed. “OK,” she said. Her parents laughed.
Outside, my wife asked what I said to the little girl. My response?
“I’ll see you on Christmas Eve.”
FROM THE MAILBAG
Re ‘The True Tale of the Pepsi Navy,’ Oct. 20. That was not the only time Pepsico has been at the crossroads of world history, Terry. Three score and a hundred Popes ago, the cardinals were hopelessly deadlocked on a successor and settled on a Cardinal Sicola of Italy as a compromise candidate. Until some cleric, probably a Classic Coke disciple, objected to having a Pope Sicola. Ba doom bah. Don Button, Lund, B.C.
Re ‘Dressing By Any Other Connotation,’ Oct. 13. Hi Terry. I have a funny memory from a Thanksgiving dinner, too, from a few years back. Dinner was ready and hot bowls and plates were placed in front of everyone. The plate of turkey was put in front of my mother and Jameson, our oldest grandson who was no more than four or five, was wonderstruck. He asked if Gigi was going to eat all that turkey herself! He didn’t know why we were all laughing. He’s 13 now and could probably eat a plate of turkey by himself. Linda McKinlay, Tilbury, Ontario
Terry, I’m thankful for the smiles your writing brings me. And we called it dressing when I was growing up in Canora, Saskatchewan, too. Keep on keepin’ on. Tom Pura, Grande Prairie, Alberta
MORE FROM HARRY
Three weeks ago, we shared a story (The Irish widower, remember?) once recounted to me by my late friend Harry Stemp of Uxbridge, Ontario. Harry was an inveterate teller of baby-blue tales, and that one proved so popular with readers, I thought I’d add another. Here it is:
Two old guys, one 80 and the other 87, were sitting on a park bench one morning. The 87-year-old had just finished his morning jog and wasn’t even winded. The 80-year-old was amazed at the guy’s stamina and asked him what he did to have so much energy.
“Well, I eat a lot of rye bread every day,” said the 87-year-old. “It keeps your energy level high and you’ll have great stamina with the ladies.”
So on his way home, the 80-year-old stopped by the bakery. As he was looking around, the sales lady asked if he needed any help. “Do you have any rye bread?” he asked.
“Yes, there’s a whole shelf of it,” she responded. “Would you like some?”
“I want five loaves.”
“My goodness, five loaves?” she exclaimed. “By the time you get to the third loaf, it’ll be hard.”
The 80-year old man raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “I can’t believe everybody knows about this but me.”
THIS WEEK’S SHAMELESS PLUG
Remember, this is the final week you’re eligible for free shipping on our special October bundle, Lethbridge and Cabbage Brain, both books for only $25. And I thank you.
AND FINALLY …
If you enjoy My Sunday Reader, please forward it to a friend. See ya next Sunday. / T.
