afghangirlscifi

2008-03-13T07:17:00.000-07:00

Sharon - entered January 27 to March 13, 2008 - unlucky in love.

Rose - December 2, 2007 to January 21, 2008 - so what sort of person does a space Alien anthropologist approach?

Minda - October 24 to November 18, 2007 - what happens when Mum becomes a lifer in prison?

Rivka - September 11 to October 9, 2007 - an ultraOrthodox girl experiences problems adjusting to mainstream life.

Tzeporah - August 10 to September 10, 2007 - a refugee from the past has to keep a low profile.

Caroline - May 7 to 14, 2007 - so what happens when both parents die of drug overdose, leave you growing up with Grandma?

all other items - last full table of contents was published April 2007 - for ease of finding, please scroll down at right and click on "April 2007".

Sharon 7

2008-03-13T07:02:00.000-07:00

Usually I don't bother with the weekday paper. Today I make an exception, as a familiar face appears on the front page.
It turns out one of our well known City officials has been caught with his fingers in the cookie jar. Specifically, taking a bribe from a developer.
Now that is really nice, seeing the police start to clean up the corruption, albeit a bit overdue.
And of course, nice to see people other than my boyfriends do actually get arrested.
Heh heh heh, even nicer knowing that's Naomi's fiance. Schadenfreude? Perhaps. But there is no question she's laughed at me enough. Make that a mix of Schadenfreude and revenge.
My sparkling good mood lasts til morning coffee break. Jennifer sits next to me, carrying her paper. Wicked smile, "you ah read the gossip column?"
"No."
She opens it, passes it to me.
"Once again, yours truly has the inside scoop. Which famous person in town (hint: see the front page) was recently seen sharing a table at Starbucks with which other famous person (hint: this makes the 4th BF cops have hauled away)? And they say librarians are bores?? Better look out guys, if you're #5, it ain't a good omen."
I groan loudly, "the only da** reason we were at the same table, Naomi was there too."
Jennifer shrugs, "can't even sue the b****. After all, she didn't name names. Life sure is a downer, huh? So, what is he like in bed?"
Indira pushes open the door, "got the Police Chief on hold on line one. He said find you if I hafta drag you outa a meeting or the bathroom."
I groan inwardly, doubting he'll believe what I have to say.

Sharon 6

2008-03-01T08:02:00.000-08:00

Coffee break at the staff room in the Public Library. Jennifer is relating, in two voices, her recent encounter with an out-of-town businessman. Here's part.
"But that is ridiculous. How on earth can a city your size have no public internet terminals in the library?"
"That would be because we lack space and budget."
"You lag the pack, seriously behind the rest of Canada." (and so forth)
As she winds down, I remark, "that's what voters get for electing one of those former pro athletes. Brain dead from all the hits, does little but sign whatever the big developers stick in front of his nose."
Jennifer pulls a face, "oh, you're only against sports because you hate men. No surprise there, seeing the luck you get."
I had meant it as half joke, half sad but true political comment. By now, no one else would believe that. Thankfully we're outa time.

Naomi has the intense look you'd expect on a USAF fighter pilot scrambling aloft in West Germany during Cold War days.
I look over the forest of paper. Hoping the Schadenfreude doesn't show up in my voice, I say quietly, "this is how much you owe," turn the calculator so she can see.
She goes ballistic, "I owe those g***** ***-****s $1,085.12!?!? Migod that's like ten times what I have in my bank account. I am in sooo deep s***!"
Again, hoping my tone sounds neutral, "they do negotiate payment arrangements. Best strategy is phone them before they phone you. Four to six months is easy to arrange. Beyond that, they get huffy."
"You g***** well are enjoying this! You are one first class sadist! You act like you're someone's friend, but always love seeing crap like this!"
(Actually only with her, not with anyone else.) I reply coolly, "last year you get my help. Next time, go to the volunteer program."
Ah ha, chalk up one point for the now more assertive me.
With Megan and Cindi it goes smoother. Both are relieved to discover they'll get small refunds, had feared they'd owe. They cheerfully take me to Starbucks to thank me.
There we run into a girl they know. By the time we all part, my attitude has changed a bit. That is ah well ah I'm not really so 100% certain that I'm 100% straight anymore. Say open-minded, curious.
I grin over the mountain of paper at my brother, "Murray, you owe $235.08."
He huffs and puffs, "what an outrageous country! Maybe it's time I made Aliyah."
"Grow up Murray, read even one iota on it. Their income taxes are far worse than ours. And how many pounds you gonna hafta sweat off in basic training before that armor fits?"
He pats his stomach, "ye-ah, guess I play too many computer games and eat too much pizza. Oh what the hay, two hundred is a bargain."
We both laugh.
Given he shares this three bedroom apartment with two other gamers, I imagine he's into serious excess. His eyes would be my first clue.
And that's to say nothing of the sixty or so empty pizza boxes teetering in the corner of the kitchen.
Oy, when do they ever clean? No wonder no one finds husbands anymore, all are staring at porn or games.
Just as I'm ready to leave, Nathan comes out of his room for a coffee refill. He asks Murray, "so, how'd it go?"
Murray shrugs, "I owe the b******s money, but no big deal. Nothing I can't take as a cash advance on my credit card to cover."
Nathan turns to me, over earnest tone, "I must admit, your eyes look well preserved."
"And why would they not?"
"Murray's told me what you really do at the library, Chief Censor on all those books."
Murray's look stops me from laughing. Ok, I'll play along, "oh yes, keeps me quite busy."
"First time I've ever heard em actually admit it. Sure glad I don't go there," with that, he rushes back to his game.
I don't laugh til the elevator door closes on me.

Sharon 5

2008-02-29T06:50:00.000-08:00

After nervously quadruple-checking the arithmetic, I staple the myriad papers together, seal the envelope and hope for the best. It'll be a month before I find out from Revenue if I did it right. Still, I don't worry, most of the time I do.
Yeah, I know, you can go to those so-called professional tax preparers. They charge a lot and make a lotta mistakes, from what I hear from people.
And I happen to be low income enough I could qualify to get it done for free by the volunteer program. Now there is an exercise in masochism and time consumption. Open weekdays in the lobby of the Federal Building, you get one of those number tickets for your place in line. Count on being there most of the day.
And there are of course benefits in doing it yourself. Since you then understand the mechanism, you can play with math and answer the what-ifs. If I did this, what is the effect? What would be the effect of buying another $100 of RRSP (Registered Retirement Savings Plan) and so forth?
As I sip coffee, stare out the window, I reflect how ironic life really is. A half dozen so-called friends will descend upon me now, assuming I'm an expert and ask for help with their forms. Sad or what, me an expert? Still, I suppose everything is relative. In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is King.

Sharon 4

2008-02-22T06:04:00.000-08:00

The counsellor steeples her fingers, takes a pedantic tone, "all right then, having heard the problem, I can suggest two possibilities. Once, you are so insecure, so lacking in self-esteem, that you send out signals. Any guy who has some big secret to hide, needs a girlfriend for cover, zeroes in on you."
"Ok, I can buy that, and the other possibility?"
"There is within you some deadly serious flaw, which drives people out to the edges of extremism."
"Now just a minute! Your score there is maybe one out of three. I'll grant you it's never been proven the smuggler did any smuggling prior to the one big offence. However, the time frame of the embezzlement has been clearly established in court. It started long before I met him. And as for the closet fairy, I now know he's been a bathhouse habitue since becoming the legal age to do so."
She smiles, "there, feel better now?"
I blush, realizing I've been had.
"Now go out there into the world, use a little bit more of that self-assertion and tell me about it on the second appointment."

Sharon 3

2008-02-21T07:21:00.000-08:00

Call Display shows it's Naomi. For just a moment, I hesitate. When did she ever do anything but laugh at me or snoot me out?
But then, she does that stuff in person, doesn't bother to call. If it's a call, it's probably news.
I answer on the third ring, my hello coming across as too nervous.
In not even a smart ass tone, she asks, "have you read today's paper?"
"No, I only get it once a week, for TV listings."
"Hafta run right now, Sharon, but read it!!"
We-ell, there's been a fatal stabbing at the prison, drug smuggler BF doing the embezzler.
Our ever-looking-for-a-scandal-story reporter asked authorities if the dispute was over me.
The Warden's reply, "you never really know what people are thinking, in the background. However, one staff member and a half dozen inmates witnessed it. All have stated, under oath, that it was over refusal to give up a pingpong table in a timely manner."
I stare out the window, lost in thought, tires spinning but not finding traction.
And then it seems so obvious. There is now one roach less in the world. Another roach has absented himself from the outside world for a longer period of time. Hey, what's not to like about that?
Still, no more procrastination, dial Jewish Family Services today and book an appointment. And so I do.

Sharon 2

2008-02-19T07:20:00.000-08:00

Megan and Cindi, two girls I knew in high school, walk in. They're a sight. Cindi has on a spiked dog collar, is led on a leash. Both are shaved bald, with a variety of facial piercings sporting safety pins. Both are in sweat suits with Rainbow Flag stripes.
Each gets a decadent pastry and one of those fancy coffees with lotsa whipped cream. But then, with the look they aim for, calories don't matter.
As the resta the place acts like they don't see them, I wave cheerfully. Two reasons. One, they're usually good for a chuckle. Two, with the mess I make of life, I have no right to judge others.
Megan flashes a wicked smile, "so Sharon, saw Saturday's paper?"
"Oh yes."
"Diss-gusting."
"Certainly was."
"Now you see Sharon, the gay guys have infiltrated the editorial staff at the paper. They use their inside influence to get lotsa publicity."
"I hardly think the riot is good for their cause."
She looks at me, evaluating, then smiles, "now if a lesbian had said that, I'd likely punch her in the nose. However, you being a straight, are entitled to a certain amount of bafflement. Let me clarify, there is no such thing as bad publicity. It all contributes to the visibility of their cause."
Cindi jumps in, "and the lesbians of course are soooo invisible," giggle, "with the exception of a few of us. Think of an analogy, Sharon. Gay is a glacier, ice and snow glittering in the sun. Lesbian is an iceberg, most of its weight invisible, under water."
"I'd never thought of that, but yes that seems accurate."
Cindi laughs, "and given your record in finding guys, don't you think it's about time you switched teams?"
"Nah, not my style. Maybe go become a hermit in the forest."
We all laugh.
Megan smiles uneasily, "ok now, I'm gonna do something I don't usually do. Friends are few and far between, I never like to risk losing one. Still, it must be said, for your own good."
I tense, sensing what's coming.
"Now if you were just a little bit less of a forbidding type person, you'd have heard and lots sooner. There's a reason no one told you, you have the reputation of shooting the messenger."
I ponder for a moment, then shrug, no point getting huffy, losing two friends. Quietly I reply, "I was already half ways to figgering that myself. So, I guess I should thank you. Ah, by the way, how many know of Mr Wonderful and his double life?"
"Probably every gay and lesbian in town plus half the straights. Count on getting laughed at, a lot."
"I ah well ah"
"Now you wouldn't know to spot faces, but the editor of the gay monthly was in that crowd. Rumor has it he's planning a headliner article on what happens when you get suddenly outed. Which of course wouldn't affect mosta those people."
I groan aloud.
"Still, look at it in perspective. It's not like his #1 goal is to embarrass you. His main message up on that soapbox is simply be gay openly and don't waste your own and everyone else's time. Purely by accident you get pride of place in the story, pardon the pun."
"I ah well ah"
Within a couple days, the Saturday paper is old hat. Ribald comments dry up.
With a good bit of tension and a shaking hand, I pull the free gay monthly outa the street box. Horrid, right there on the front page is my very own photo.
And yet, nothing happens. Days go by, a week then two, yet no one says anything.
So, what happened? My guess would be no one bothers with what the tedious editor might say on this or any other topic. The reason they like the paper is photos, of S&M night, the tattoo contest, the riot, drag night and so forth. Lotsa photo gazers, no real readers.

Sharon 1

2008-01-27T09:28:00.000-08:00

I debate with myself, whether to dare show my face at Starbucks. Then I shrug, no point running or hiding from it.
Nervously I say, "grande, dark roast, room for cream please." It's only after I'm served I realize I had no need to panic, the staff don't know my name.
Thankfully, no one who knows me is here yet, gives me time to compose myself.
I groan when I see Naomi walk in, does it get any worse than that?
With a smug smart ass look, she sits at my table, "so, read Saturday's paper?"
I nod.
"Imagine that, sixteen pages of photos, they outdid themselves. But then they always did have a taste for the lurid. The big bathhouse riot, spilled out into the yard and even onto the street. So fierce it took water cannons to subdue it. Lot of arrests for D&D (Drunk and Disorderly). So ah, did you know that boyfriend of yours was a bathhouse habitue?"
I groan aloud, "news to me, it was."
In pedantic tone, she continues, "it has been my experience in life that genuine coincidences are few and far between. A random event is exactly that, singular. When the same thing happens three times in a row, it ain't random anymore."
I groan inwardly, here it comes.
"Now the BF before that was arrested for embezzling over a million dollars to feed his gambling addiction. And the one before him was arrested with twenty kilos of H at the airport. You do have a talent for picking lemons."
"I seem to recall your brother was on the list of those arrested at the riot."
"So what? Not like it was my boyfriend. Now, as I see it, you can take two possible interpretations. Wanna play ostrich? Then simply tell yourself that yes, you are still missing the target but not as badly. After all, gay D&D is less serious than embezzling, which in turn is less serious than smuggling drugs. Or, grab the bull by the horns, admit it's you who is the problem and go seek counselling at Jewish Family Services."
If anyone else had said this, I might be a little more open to it, but the Queen of Smartass?
She picks up her cup, walks away.
I sit there in a foul mood for a few minutes. But then, I cheer up. She's the worst, means the resta the comments get easier from here on in.

2008-01-21T06:11:00.000-08:00

Rose - entered December 2, 2007 to January 21, 2008 - what sort of person is approached by a space Alien anthropologist?

Minda - October 24 to November 18, 2007 - what happens when Mum becomes a lifer in prison?

Rivka - September 11 to October 9, 2007 - an ultraOrthodox girl experiences problems adjusting to mainstream life.

Tzeporah - August 10 to September 10, 2007 - a refugee from the past must keep a low profile.

Caroline - May 7 to 14, 2007 - so what happens when both parents die of a drug overdose, leave you growing up with Grandma?

All other items - last full table of contents was published April 2007. For ease of finding, please scroll down at right and click on "April 2007".

Rose 11

2008-01-21T06:02:00.000-08:00

A few months later, I hear the familiar ping, smile, "hello Xar, I'll put on coffee."
"Sounds wonderful Rose, you make the best coffee of any of my clients."
Once I've poured, she starts tentatively, "ah, what do you make of the job search, Rose? Wasn't it over a thousand resumes, mostly by email?"
I smile wanly, "actually just over 1,500. Lotta rejection, major hit on the self esteem. Still, I choose to look on the bright side, call it a victory."
"So what did you get?"
"Miles better than those silly McJobs. Unionized job at the university library, full time, decent wage. If something better shows up over time, fine. If not, this is something I can live with."
"Give me your new schedule please, so I know when you're likely to be at home."
"Sure, ..."
She smiles, "I'm now ready to start learning about Japanese literature. I imagine it will take several visits."
I get up, pour us more coffee. This will definitely take a while.

Rose 10

2008-01-17T07:18:00.000-08:00

As I close Prof Anderson's door, I realize I need a quiet think, opt for a spot behind a building pillar in the student lounge.
However you choose to describe her, "careful", "finicky", "politically correct", it's of course true. So, her agreeing with my revised chapter is a good sign. Pretty much a foregone conclusion my thesis will go through ok, I'll get my Masters degree this semester.
Where does that leave me? In need of reinventing myself.
I suppose I could chug along toward that PhD. First objection, in my heart of hearts I know I lack the energy, interest, ability, talent. Second objection, life gets harder financially. See as long as you haven't completed that Masters, you get lotsa work doing the first year compulsory half classes in English. Once you get the Masters, that all dries up; now you cost more per course hour. Yes, it's coolie wages compared to profs, but sure beats heck outa all those McJobs out there.
I suppose I could do the one year BEd add-on, end up teaching high school literature. Not on your life, I'd sooner trek to the source of the Nile with Darth Vader as expedition chief or be stranded on the Ungava Peninsula in the dead of winter.
Which means - gasp - a job. Hopefully a real job, not just a McJob. I'm aware a lot of people with so called practical degrees are underemployed. So, I can't imagine literature doing great things.
Time up, I practise my rebound shot into the garbage can with my cardboard coffee cup, head for my next class.

Rose 9

2008-01-03T06:04:00.000-08:00

"Ain't it cold in the winter time?
Sky won't snow and the sun won't shine
Hard to tell nighttime from the day."
As I hear the familiar ping, I shut off the retro radio show. No loss, after half an hour, I'm starting to get tired of it.
Xar smiles cheerfully, "my friend, I want to thank you so much for your help last time."
I shrug, "no big deal, none of it was rocket science."
"My section chief was really pleased with the writeup. She was amazed you knew the answer to everything."
"Well, there were no inside jokes there. Pretty much anyone at the university would know all that. I'll put on coffee."
"Sounds wonderful Rose."
Once I've poured she gets to the point of this visit, "now you see Rose, a student newspaper is a funny thing. Not funny ha ha, funny peculiar."
I grin, "you noticed that!"
"Indeed, now I understand that they have a certain amount of censorship. Less in some places, more in others. I'm perfectly capable of getting the literal meaning by reading something in English. Where I, and the rest of us fall down is reading between the lines. Allegory and irony are not the strong points of our training."
We both laugh.
"Now you see Rose, I've saved up a dozen articles over this last semester. Try as hard as I can, I simply cannot decipher these. They either refer to something I can't guess or maybe even some of the writers are a bit psychotic."
She spreads them out on the table.
I draw a deep breath, "uh Xar, I've noticed alla these over time. I'd guess half can be deciphered and half are out there in never never land. Still, I'll give it my best try."

Rose 8

2007-12-20T06:02:00.001-08:00

Halfway through the list, Xar and I stop for a break.
In small talk, I ask, "are you the only anthropologist covering Earth?"
Grin, "bite your tongue. Planet is such a screwed up mess it takes three dozen of us."
"And I suppose you use male anthropologists on our men?"
"Logically, it should work, but it didn't. Yours were so uptight, ill at ease, afraid of possible attack; it led to lousy communications. However, once Earthling men find a sympathetic and non-threatening ear, they don't stop talking. Men are half of my clients, give me 3/4 of my usable information. Helpful about it too. Most make lists of stuff, so they don't forget when they next see me."
"It sure has not been my experience that they're forthcoming at talking."
She laughs, "think of stranger on the airplane syndrome. Once the guy trusts you, knows the info will end up in an anthropology textbook trillions of mile away, he becomes very candid."
A ping announces I've received email. Of course I'll ignore it.
Xar looks rather uneasy, "ah maybe you better check that."
In bold and large print, it proclaims, "Earthlings, this is your final warning. So far you have refused to meet our demands. Unless each and every one of you converts to being a Jehovah's Witness within 30 days, we will be compelled to take drastic action.
"We have a cannon, specially calibrated to turn your planet into a giant Limberger cheese. Imagine the decline in lifestyle. Air travel could be difficult with soft runways. Cafe menus would become boring. And that's to say nothing of the smell!
"Still, there is one positive benefit. Food banks would be rendered obsolete."
By now, both Xar and I are roaring with laughter.
I look at her appraisingly, "you knew they were gonna send something? Now you're relieved it's not too bad, right?"
She shrugs, "in our culture, there is a saying, 'aging is compulsory, maturity is optional'. Half the anthropologists are still stuck in junior high mode."
I grin, "and of course, they're hoping for a reply?"
"Very much so, they'd be disappointed if you didn't zing them back."
I type, "your idle threats scare our Evil Empire not. Our military is so sophisticated, it's like you're stuck in spear days. Have your fun, shoot! You'll find the cannon shot deflected back at your ship. Bon appetit!"
I show Xar, then send. After we laugh, it's back to work.
As this proceeds, I come to a realization. The communication between her and myself is exceedingly good, better than I've experienced with a fellow human.
You see, these anthropologists would not break down the client list by geography. Pointless, when you consider they can zip back and forth at the speed of light. Nor by language, they have a universal translator. They have broken down their client list by personality type, matched you to a specific anthro. Someone up there is a genius, even if some are immature.
(So ends Part One; the blog could be inactive for several months as Part Two is prepared.)

Rose 7

2007-12-19T06:03:00.001-08:00

My eyes are sore, from struggling with too many footnotes. I hear a slight pinging sound, turn to see Xar.
In sympathetic tone, she says, "you people have way more footnotes than us and in smaller print. Do your eyes feel waxy?"
"Oh you bet."
"Well then, take a break and chat with me."
"Xar, could I offer you tea, coffee, maybe orange juice? Sorry, can't offer any alcohol, don't own any."
"Coffee would be great, yours is better than ours."
We do small talk as it brews. She raises her cup theatrically, takes a sip, "ah, pure heaven, dark roast. An Earthling after my own heart. Now Rose, I realize I did a lousy job of explaining last time. Musta left you with the impression I'd be hounding you over everything from acid rock music to Icelandic Parliament."
We both laugh.
"It's not like that at all. I have about 100 people I visit regularly, plus my duty roster of media watch. And of course, I tend to ask these people about stuff in their own fields of interest."
"I'm relieved to hear that."
"Now Rose, I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not here to chat about Japanese literature. Not yet anyhow, it'll come up over time. For now, I'm trying to understand university life in general, to be able to intelligently compare it to ours."
"Sounds like a rather open ended topic."
"Rose, I don't mean the stuff like electives and prerequisites. I'm perfectly capable of reading a calendar. I need help on the informal side of life."
"Such as?"
Goofy grin, "for starters, everything written formally at a university encounters some degree of censorship, though they don't call it that. However, there is one avenue of totally uninhibited free speech."
"You ah don't mean ah?"
"Yes Rose, bathroom graffitti. Now I got about 100 things here which simply defy belief and credibility. It would be really helpful chatting with you."
"You realize of course I won't know all the answers. Some will be inside jokes."
"Doesn't matter, shall we start?"
By now I'm even starting to think of her as a friend. And it's not like she's demanding rocket science answers. I smile, "shall I pour us more coffee before we begin?"
"That would be wonderful Rose. I rather suspect some of this is anatomically impossible even for you Earthlings, being more agile and flexible than us. In fact, some of it couldn't be done in zero gravity. And it does seem your politicians have rather kinky fetishes. Wierd stuff."
We both laugh.

Rose 6

2007-12-17T06:05:00.000-08:00

It's now pack mule time. That is, I have to check out a dozen library books to work on my one chapter during the holidays. And yes, I'll admit I'm puffing by the time I reach my third floor walkup apartment.
As I open the door, I see a strange sight. Say four feet tall, a green female space alien. And no, I never drink nor do any drugs, legal or otherwise.
She grins, in a metallic whir which indicates a mechanical translator, says, "hello Rose, how are things going?"
"I rather doubt that you happen to be a hallucination. So, what exactly are you doing here?"
"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Xar, an anthropological officer aboard the SS Gargantuan."
"Xar, don't for one minute think you can fool me. There is nowhere in the known galaxy where you'd be assigned the Earth beat unless you'd screwed up bigtime. So, level with me, tell me the story or get lost."
She blushes a bit, turning a darker shade of green. Then she shrugs, "all right then, I prefer them that way. Less hoohaw and running around in circles." She then goes on to give a long and humorous story of a crowd of cadets out on a bender. Coming home in their hovercar, her driving and well over the legal limit, they have a head on collision with the commandant of the academy.
Tentative smile, "and now, what I want outa you. We always seek out those sentient beings who happen to be alone mosta the time, they tend to be much better observers and more perceptive towards their fellow beings. And it is against our policy to show ourselves to two or more gathered in the same place. So, I intend to drop in from time to time, ask you various questions about ah shall we say anomalies in Earthling thought."
I chuckle, "Xar, you're nuts or high on something. Go on back to your ship. Given that there is little to no logic in the Earthling condition, how in Hades am I to be expected to answer about any of it?"
Huge smile, "well for sure you passed the test, exactly the sort of person we seek. I'll drop in several times over the holidays."
As she fades into thin air, I groan inwardly. What can you do?

Rose 5

2007-12-15T08:03:00.000-08:00

As I head for a coffee break, I fall into step with one of my former first years.
He grins cheerfully, "good morning Ms Adilman."
"Good morning Ty, how's it going?"
"I meant to thank you for being so kind. Saw you posted up the marks yesterday."
"Kindness has nothing to do with it, it's marked on a curve. You performed in the top third of the class, you earned the mark."
"Good lord, if I'm in the top third, is that sad or what?"
We both laugh.
"Ms Adilman, now that's it's over, can we be honest with each other? Don't you get sick of dealing with all that bad attitude? Coping with all those people who are forced to take that first year half class?"
"Certainly, that's why I continue my own education. Hopefully in future, I'm dealing with upper years who want to be there in lit."
"Now I'm gonna ask you, just for the sake of my own peace of mind. Can you tell me even one thing I got outa that that is worthwhile? And don't cop out and say it's always been a requirement."
"Ok Ty, now let's fast forward to the future, say a dozen years after you graduate. Two possible scenarios, failure and success. Let's say your career goes nowhere, a series of McJobs and you can't make a real dent in that student loan. You won't hate me. You probably won't remember my name or face. You'll hate the whole economy for this business of having to be overqualified for everything, too many degrees chasing too few real jobs.
"But let's say things work well. You and your wife are on your way, in your nice car, to a corporate party, where you'll rub shoulders with those a bit older and more powerful. The topic drifts to literature. All you can remember is say four, five, six one liners from my class. But you pace them out wisely, sound as intelligent as anyone else. After all, that's probably all they remember too. Two days later, you run into me on the street. You'll recognize me, thank me for it. It may not be much, but better than sounding like an ignoramus."
We both laugh.
He grins wickedly, "in that case, I'm sure glad I stayed awake throughout the classes."

Rose 4

2007-12-13T06:01:00.000-08:00

Naomi grins tentatively, "now I would guess that, whether it's true or not, it has a fairly negative impact on your love life."
I groan, "what love life?"
Earnest tone, "now see all the Jewish guys are privy to the rumor. And while mosta their parents voted for him, you still seem disreputable to them."
I nod.
"And in these parts, mosta the goy men hated him, past tense. And even those few who actually liked him, there is still a problem. That is, the Trudeau look may make a man handsome. It simply doesn't translate well onto a woman."
I laugh, "that is the most polite I've ever heard it said. The usual saying is there's only one grad student/sessional who looks worse than me."
"You mean of course Indira."
I nod.
"And that brother of yours. What a shame the best looking ones are always gay."
We both laugh.
She grins, "if he were straight, I'd make a play for him. But then, I'd need sharp elbows, to fight my way through the crowd. Enough of all this crap. How's your thesis progressing?"
Drily I reply, "one chapter needs to be redone. I've made a little too much reference to the monetary success and not enough to the literary."
"Still, one chapter only, that's pretty good compared to most."

Rose 3

2007-12-12T08:17:00.000-08:00

Once again I'm at the Starbucks counter; Naomi waves from her table.
As I sit, she asks tentatively, "mind if I ask for some advice?"
"Go ahead."
"By the end of the holiday, they'll expect me to narrow down the exact topic for my Masters thesis. Could you share your experience with me?"
"Sure, what would you like to know?"
"The overall thought pattern, in as much detail as you like."
"First, it must be a topic you like. Reason, it'll always end up more work than you think. If it's something you like, it's enjoyable. If you only chose it to gain some strategic advantage, you'll resent any extra work."
"So that's why you chose Japanese women's literature?"
"Well yes and no. Yes, I do happen to like it. But bite your tongue when you say 'women's literature'. According to Prof Anderson, that leaves me open to all sorts of charges such as ghettoizaton, being a pawn to the male dominated big publishing houses and so forth."
"So what exactly did she suggest you title it?"
"Literature written in female voice targeted primarily at female readers."
We both laugh.
"So what else Rose?"
"Assuming you like a topic, aim for as wide a terrain as you can. Reason, you'll always find surprises, pleasant and unpleasant, and things will come out a lot different than you think. As well, much as possible, aim to find the unexplored, terrain that hasn't been hunted to death."
She pulls a face, "isn't that a contradiction in terms? Hasn't every topic of any great importance been beaten to death and then some?"
"All right then, as I understand it, you're fluently bilingual, being from Montreal. How exactly do you feel about writing in French Canadian voice in that history thesis?"
"No problem at all, got on well with the Quebecois, in fact better than with fellow Jews. It's doable and easily."
"Ok, start by avoiding big stuff. For sure anything to do with the original settlement or say the Treaty of Paris will have been picked over. But if you aimed to say chroncile daily life in an uneventful era of say circa 1700, chances are, no one has done it yet."
"Ah I see what you mean, I'll think on that. One thing I always meant to ask you, if it's not too intrusive. I've noticed a pattern in you Rose. You avoid any other Jewish students like the plague; they do the same to you. So ah why?"
I look at her in wild disbelief, "you mean you've been here, at this very university for two years now and you still haven't heard that? They must really keep you outa the loop, doubtless because you're seen fraternizing with the enemy, moi."
We both laugh.
Then I shrug, "no reason I shouldn't tell you, you'll hear sooner or later anyhow. Rumor has it I'm Trudeau's illegitimate child."
She gasps, then, "good thing I wasn't sipping coffee at the moment. So, do you suppose it's true?"
I shrug, "who knows? Though people do tell me I have a resemblance."

Rose 2

2007-12-03T08:02:00.000-08:00

My cell rings. I groan inwardly, seeing it's bro's number. It would be nice if once, just once, he could phone to chat and not to ask for a favor.
Still, to be fair, it's not like he borrows money or needs bailing out of jail. Mosta the favors are truly nonsense trivia.
"Hello Nathan."
"Hi there Sis," I attempt to control my squeamishness as I hear obvious bathhouse sounds in the background, "you remember my buddy Chad?"
Hard to forget Mr Super Over The Top Flamboyant, "is he the one with the neon clothes?"
Nathan and Chad both laugh.
"It's like this Sis. Chad's little sister is going through the whole lesbian angst thing. And yes she knows there's counselling at the Center and free. Best if I put Chad on."
Friendly tone, "Rose, she's scared to death of going to one of those appointments alone. Ditto, being seen in that area with an obvious person like me. But there's lotsa other places straight people could be going to on that street, like the New Age bookstore. So please, could you escort her to the first appointment?"
Inwardly I heave a sigh of relief, coulda been worse, "I understand they have evening appointments?"
"Yes they do Rose. Could I count on your help?"
"Tell her Thursdays are no go. Book any other evening and I'll be glad to do it."
"Thank you so much Rose. You're a nice person, lot better than your brother."
We all laugh.

A Cold War era spy would approve of the amount of planning Megan puts into rendezvous. She chooses a coffee house several blocks away, favored by straights, shunned by gays.
I must describe myself and clothing in detail and she even gives several lines of recognition code. It's not lost on me that she doesn't describe herself. Doubtless leaving open the option of chickening out at the last minute. Do it bimbo and it'll be a Frosty Friday before I do anything else for you.
Rendezvous goes without incident. Spies don't accost us.
Now Megan sees herself as incognito walking down the street in those oh so nondescript clothes. But the amount of rubbernecking and eye motion would earn brownie points from even the toughest US Sgt during days of Nam.
Once she's in her appointment, I take out a textbook.
A half dozen gay guys are lounging about, obviously there just for the free coffee. They switch to talking about the last S&M night at the bathhouse. So obvious they're trying to gross me out.
Still, I have the ability to totally switch off, concentrate on the text and do so.
As Megan and I leave, she says the words I long to hear, "I realize how silly all this has been. I can go by myself in future."
Yes! There is a Santa Claus.

Rose 1

2007-12-02T08:01:00.000-08:00

Weekday mornings I detest the Starbucks near campus, too crowded. But if you're going to the university library Saturday or Sunday, it's a great way to start your day. I arrive about half an hour before library opening time. One of those small tables is barely big enough for your coffee, a textbook and notebook.
Several minutes later, Cindy arrives. Does she ask if she can sit here? Or how I'm doing? No, simply closes my textbook, sets down her coffee and starts her rant, "is that Harper evil or what? Junior league version of his buddy Bush. There is a reason Bush is that way. Texas cowboy with his shorts on too tight, affects the blood circulation to his brain."
She laughs, I join in.
She continues, "and now look at what the Prince of Evil is doing ..."
When she runs outa energy, I deduce I am expected to say something, "look at the bright side. This is a democracy, you'll soon enough get another chance to vote against him."
Bad move, she looks angry, "and vote for what, smart ass? The Marxist Leninist Trotskyite who'll tax us out into bankruptcy to pay for all his silly ideas? Or maybe dude man with poorer English than most illegal immigrants from China?"
I shrug, "well now, don't you think that makes us better off than Americans? We get a choice of three idiots, not just two."
She takes umbrage, "you actually believe we're better off than Americans? Do you ever read a newspaper from one year end to another? The Canadian tax system is so unfair compared to ..."
It's on the tip of my tongue to suggest she emigrate if she feels that way, but I choke it back. No point being nasty.
As the tirade dies down, she looks at me, as if seeing something for the first time, "I've got it, know what your problem in life is."
"And that is?"
"Perpetual smartassism. It's why you never have any friends. Also why you never seem to have a boyfriend. Everyone knows guys are naturally smart asses. And yes, they like smart ass girls, but only if she's not as smart ass as them. They hate it, loathe it with a passion when she outdoes them in perpetual smartassism."
"Perpetual smartassism?' Is that a diagnosis from your third year psy text?"
Sniffs, "there you go again, just never stop." Picks up her coffee, goes to sit at the counter.
Back in history, McLuhan said the medium is the message. Now had this criticism come from a peer, an approximate equal, I might be willing to give it consideration.
However she happens to have been my younger bro's for cover girlfriend back in his closeted days. Once he came out, he decided she is sooo a waste of time.
Since every time she sees me she gets nasty, I hardly think her message warrants further thought.

2007-11-18T08:45:00.000-08:00

Minda - entered October 24 to November 18, 2007 - so what happens when Mum becomes a lifer in prison?

Rivka - September 11 to October 9, 2007 - an ultraOrthodox girl experiences problems adjusting to mainstream life.

Tzeporah - August 10 to September 10, 2007 - a refugee from the past finds it necessary to keep a low profile.

Caroline - May 7 to 14, 2007 - so what happens when both parents die of drug overdose, leave you growing up with Grandma?

All other items - last full table of contents was published April 2007. For ease of finding, please scroll down at right and click on "April 2007".

Minda 14

2007-11-18T08:03:00.000-08:00

During the regime of Ms Birnbaum, just under half of inmates had been on mandatory counselling programs. These were of course the ones with the most heavy duty symptomology. Not surprisingly, a large number of them detest counselling, prefer living in a state of denial.
Those doing counselling on a voluntary basis have an almost frivolous nature towards it. They tend to be largely attention seekers. It's tough not to laugh when someone seriously asserts that choosing the wrong clothes for a high school dance (and the perceived rejection) led to her life of crime. Most normal people get over stuff like that.
Warden was well meaning offering to make counselling voluntary during this interim period. And yes, she privately admitted to me after that she'd goofed.
But democracy being what it is, that's what people had voted on.
At least at JFS the stakes were real. Real marriages and real credit ratings on the line. Here and now, it assumes comic opera proportions.
When we learn Ms Birnbaum will be returning to another place in the prison system, my morale sinks to the bottom of the deepest ocean trench.
What came next was not a halucination fueled by booze or prescription meds, that I can guarantee. No booze here at all. Oh yes, it's easy to smuggle in, but no one wants it. Their ten year old physiology reacts to it with extreme violence. Similarly, there's only one person here on a prescription and that ain't me.
Nowadays I avoid the Day Room like the bubonic plague. Too many of my pseudo serious counsellees jump on me. In over earnest tones, they expound yet further on the high school dance or such.
Nowadays when I lounge back in an easy chair, it's always the one in my room.
I feel momentarily dizzy. Reopening my eyes, I discover myself and chair are now in a sci fi setting.
There's a dozen green men and women, four feet tall in uniform with officer insignia.
The youngest male speaks, in a metallic tone as if coming through a translator, "I am First Lieutenant Xero Xavier Xar. You are in the officers wardroom aboard SS Gargantuan. And you are Ms Minda Zilberg?"
"Yes Lt."
"I would state this translator is not 100% reliable with Earthling nuance. If I should say something offensive, it is certainly not my intent, merely progamming shortcomings. I apologize for not offering refreshment. It would take testing to determine whether your altered metabolism would accept our beverages."
"That's ok Lt."
"Ms Zilberg to begin. SS Gargantuan is the single most prestigious vessel of our anthropological fleet. Just try to guess why, I mean you being a counsellor and all."
"Not too hard to guess Lt. Everywhere else in what is your known universe the sentient life forms have a cool rationality to them. Easy to study their societies, easy to categorize. None can match the Earthlings in their sheer psychotic chronic dysfunctional disorder and mess."
The laughter of all present assures me I've hit the target with at least some precision.
Lt gives a boyish grin, "so glad you understand, it makes the rest of it easier. Gathered here is an entirely informal Council of Justice. And ah well, it isn't aimed at you, but at me. I have sinned, and greatly. But nothing which would reach my formal file. These good people are like two nanoseconds away from voting me off this ship, onto some backwater research. That is, unless I aid you and quickly too."
"Why me Lt?"
A female voice, older, obviously used to a lot of authority, got the most braid on her uniform, "it is the judgment of this Council you are the one Earthling who has created the worst screwed up mess."
I don't know whether I should feel flattered or insulted.
Lt resumes, "to satisfy this Council, I must get you a fresh start and in a way considered safe by our techies. In a few minutes, you will be in the body of another Earthling. This person is now in a state of clinically dead, brought about by a fever. You will recover from this fever and quickly, retain all your memories plus this person's."
"Thank you so much Lt."
"Ms Zilberg, please take my advice and refrain from any further murders. It is against our policy to ever aid the same Earthling twice."
Drily I reply, "yes Lt."
Grin, "sorry if that sounded heavy. Your body will be discovered in your room. The autopsy will doubtless convince the prison authorities it is a genuine heart attack. Good luck in your new venture."
And then, I black out.
When I awake next morning, it's in a different room, with a burnt out post fever feeling.
Dad stares into his paper at breakfast, looking near homicidally angry. And why? Doubtless the hungover look on older brother. Mum snaps to get in gear, eat faster.
Taking school bag and lunch I exit, meet an East Indian girl of 10 or 11. Memory says her name is Lata.
Looks at me evaluating, "you feeling ok?"
"Think I had a bit of fever last night Lata."
"Explains why you don't seem yourself. So, you thought it'd be easier to just go to school and snooze there than to risk the Spanish Inquisition from your Mum."
We both laugh and that is the end of her scrutiny of me.
Upon arrival at school we join a group including my daugher Minda and that other TO girl. Oh yes, Rachel, gambling scandal in the family.
Lata grins, passes a half dozen manga comics to Rachel, "and now, your turn for a funny family story."
Rachel flashes a wicked smile, "this uncle of mine at U of T, math prof, wierdest of the lot. Did a lot of nocturnal wandering. And yet not drinking or doing drugs.
"One night, cops caught him in the act. Had a master key, opening parking meters. Got a search warrant, found 88 grand worth of coins hidden in a corner of his basement."
Lowd howls of laughter.
"Never did charge him. Full restitution plus his agreement to visit them no mind counsellors at Jewish Family Services."
More laughter.
Oh well, it's a fresh start. I won't repeat my mistakes.
And yes, I'll keep an eye on Minda, make sure she behaves.
Will I ever tell her who I really am? Go on, think I'm that nuts?
The bell rings. Feeling more optimistic than I have in ages, I go in.
Same class as Minda. Should be easy to do my parental duty. Only one problem. Don't overdo things or she might catch wise.

Minda 13

2007-11-16T07:22:00.000-08:00

The Warden rings a small bell and Day Room conversations taper off.
"First, I'd like to thank y'all for attending. I'll keep this meeting short and hopefully sweet.
"As you are aware, this prison is seen as the ultimate backwater. We've been unable to get a replacement counsellor.
"For anyone who hates appointments, that's good news. But I am informed at least some of you do wish to see a replacement counsellor.
"So here's my plan. Minda is a real genuine counsellor, Masters Degree, years of experience with Jewish Family Services.
"She won't get money off this. Any after tax salary gets donated to her charity of choice.
"Now the critical element. Appointments are not to be compulsory. Your choice whether to book or not. But if you have booked, as a matter of courtesy, you must attend.
"So we vote on the plan Friday. Questions or comments?"
"Uh ma'am that is just like so oppressive, so regimented, so dictatorial. I mean, why can't we just drop in?"
Warden smiles, "it is not intended to regiment you the client, but to regiment the counsellor's time. With your idea, some time slots would have six people showing; other, none."
"Uh ma'am, we can't vote Friday, it's the 13th."
Warden laughs cheerfully, "my friend, take a good look around you. Where are you right now? Can you imagine worse luck than simply being here?"
"Do you realize ma'am, there's people here so superstitious they don't leave their rooms on a Friday the 13th? Get friends to bring a tray from the cafeteria."
"I'm sorry, I had no idea of that. Ok, so how about next Monday?"
"No way ma'am, it's Full Moon, meaning you could get lotsa wierd comments in that ballot box."
Everyone laughs.
"All right then, how about Tuesday?" Pause, "ok, no objections, Tuesday is vote day."

Minda 12

2007-11-15T07:18:00.000-08:00

Rachel and I arrive at school a few minutes early. Lata, standing in a group of a half dozen girls, waves, calls out to join them.
As Lata talks, she's unslinging and opening her school pack. Theatric tone, "now it so happens I'm the only one in our class to have an older sister. Mosta the time she's a right royal pain in the ass. However, she does have one redeeming feature, one thing only which makes her bearable." Her pause indicates I should join the theatrics.
I guffaw, "gwan with you. From what I heard, none of them have anything good about them."
This sets everyone laughing.
"TaDa, this would prove you wrong." She passes me a plastic grocery bag which contains a half dozen manga comics."
As I open this she speaks, "hey, don't worry they're a bit ratty. Been through a lotta hands, her friends and mine. Look at the bright side, these here are the 13+, stuff they wouldn't let you buy at the store."
Someone else says, "ye-ah those 10+ are soooo for babies."
Lata continues, "and if Mum ever caught her giving me the 16+, it'd be big ructions."
Very warmly Rachel and I thank her. We're well aware of what this means. Much more than just an offer to lend comics, an offer of friendship, done publicly even.
Lata grins, "give em back when you're done. I'm chief librarian, keep track of who all has seen what. And now, the price. Nobody but nobody gets comics for free. This time, Minda gives a humorous story about family, I mean not connected with all that bad stuff; next time, Rachel."
I recognize it for what it is, a group bonding experience.
I grin, "all right then, now see there is this place called Val David, about an hour drive north from Montreal, summer resort. Two reasons why Dad never woulda bought there. First, everything mostly half a million and up, outa our league. Second, mosta them is Hasids, us the other kind of ultraOrthodox. And contrary to what you may believe, they sooo don't get along.
"Anyhow, the parents took a rental for two weeks. One day Dad and I are about and stop in at this typical French Canadian diner. Now he's a real showoff, was I mean, he's dead now. Real pretend sophisticate. Decided he was gonna order in French, and his was lots worse than mine. Well, he wanted to try poutine, it came out sounding like putain."
Roars of laughter, everyone knows it means hooker.
"Fast as I could, I corrected him several times. But the waitress, well she was so red with anger, I don't think she even heard me. Bout five seconds later, this big burly cook actually grabs Dad by the collar."
More laughter.
"With one hand he was gripping Dad's collar, with the other he just easy took my hand. Walked us out. At the door, told Dad never to come back. Smiled at me, said it was ok, he knew I'd done the right thing. I was welcome back, but only if I came with someone else. Never told Mum about it, but a few days later she and I dropped in there. We were treated like royalty and they wouldn't even let her pay the bill. She never did figure how that happened."
Oohs and ahs. I realize we've come a huge distance today. Maybe things will be ok here.

Minda 11

2007-11-14T07:24:00.000-08:00

Aunt Naomi's hate glare chases Rachel out the door. Immediately she goes into the bathroom, begins moving all but the barest essentials to her bedroom.
At first this mystifies me. Soon I understand her train of thought. Seeing the father embezzled, she thinks the daughter will steal our bath stuff. Sick or what?
Whoa does that mean she thinks I'll morph into a killer? Maybe she sleeps with a pistol under her pillow, just in case.
Next morning as we meet on the way to school, Rachel smiles ruefully, "so, what happened after I left?"
I blush hotly, "ah well that is she vacuumed everything outa the bathroom, hid it in her bedroom. Musta thought you'd steal it."
"Look Minda, I've already received her message loud and clear, ain't going back. Meaning if you and my Mum don't hit it off, we'll be hanging out together in the Public Library."
Uneasily I ask, "so, what do I expect?"
She laughs mirthlessly, "one of those good news bad news jokes. Bad news is the splashy condo in TO and the summer cottage were taken by the bank. Business in the hands of the receivers. Good news, least we don't starve. She's one of those bureaucrats who can work online from home." Another mirthless laugh, "seeing how much we're hated in TO, here is a nice place to do it."
I reply, "to say nothing of cheaper accommodations."
I go in expecting the absolute worst, yet none of my fears materialize.
Her Mum is cheerful, warm, conveys two obvious messages without saying so in so many words. First, she's delighted her daughter found a friend. Second, even more happy that friend just happens to be Jewish. Not one word on all the scandal.
I find myself hugely liking her and knowing Rachel and I will be able to hang out there comfortably.

Minda 10

2007-11-13T07:23:00.000-08:00

(Meanwhile, back at the prison)
I don't like the smart ass look on the clerk, knowing look saying I'm about to be the pigeon. Wiping her smirk, "Countess Dreckula (staff nickname for Warden) will see you in a few minutes."
As I wait, I review recent events. For the life of me, I cannot recall anything remotely resembling trouble.
Warden affably waves me to a chair, "so good of you to make time in your busy schedule for me." (Said with a straight face, go figure.)
Uneasy smile, "when you are in my position Minda, you become an expert at improv. Nothing ever works worth a crap, always gotta patch up, make do."
The sick feeling in my stomach tells me exactly where she's headed.
"Now, to clarify, I'm not blaming you. It just so happened the nervous breakdown was while you were in her office. Now you and I both know some of the crime motivations are quite shocking. Which is where you were at the time. And you and I both know she had unresolved problems out there in the so called real world."
I grooan inwardly, here it comes.
"Now Minda, imagine my surprise to discover in your file you were a counsellor out in the so called real world."
I hasten to protest, "not that sort ma'am. Say 80% marital and 20% debt counselling, they are related in most cases."
Dry reply, "and by sheer coincidence, none of our inmates experience either marital or consumer debt woes, not now anyway."
We both laugh.
She leans forward, over earnest tone, "now listen Minda, as far as the federal prison system is concerned this is the absolute back of beyond. Nobody but nobody will touch the job on a replacement basis."
"Is that due to location or the unique clientele, ma'am?"
She sighs, "sad to say, both. You can't receive a salary, but can donate after tax earnings to any charity of your choice. Think of the opportunity, to do what you feel is important in the world."
"Aren't we missing one important factor, ma'am? How much confidence would the inmates have in humble moi?"
Laugh, "ok, I take that as a challenge. I'm declaring a secret ballot vote. If 2/3 or more support you, you do the job, end of story."
I grooooan inwardly, but what exactly can you do?
Nancy is on DRO. Flopping in a chair near her, I pour out my tale of woe.
She shrugs, "now how in the name of Hell would anyone accept advice from that nutcase Ms Birnbaum? You on the other hand, they respect bigtime."
"I sense an 'and' in that."
"And a deputation of inmates has trekked to Mount Olympus, suggesting to Capt Bligh the very idea." Laugh, "come on now, do you honestly believe our fearless Warden is capable of any original thought, of dreaming up this all on her own?"
We both laugh.

(Meanwhile, back at Aunt Naomi's)
Rachel tries to sound overly casual (and fails), "so, you think you are the only one stuck in the merde?"
I raise an eyebrow.
Bitter tone, "I suppose you wonder where my father is. Took the same easy exit yours did, mixing booze with pills. Left Mum and me to face all the crap."
"What crap?"
Incredulous look, "you don't know? I know for a fact your Aunt does, that dirty look she gave me."
"Let's just say she and I have a problematic relationship, neither is into sharing much depth."
"He ah well that is VLT (Video Lottery Terminal) addiction. Bad enough his business flushed down the drain. He was stupid enough to drain the entire reroofing fund for the synagogue."
I groan aloud, "not as serious as my problem, but every darn bit as unforgivable. If you and I live to 80, neither of us are gonna live this down."
"So, that makes us friends. Now you understand why my Mum was ok with me hanging out with you."

Minda 9

2007-11-05T08:04:00.000-08:00

After a time my initial optimism fades. Yes it's wonderful no one here appears antiSemitic. Even more wonderful no one yaps about my infamous mother.
But still, I can see I just am not making any friends. They're friendly as opposed to hostile, but still seem afraid of me (go figure).
Now Aunt Naomi has me a bit concerned. Whenever I overhear phone conversations, it's usually medical woes. And yes I realize lotsa grownups exagerate for effect.
Still I have no way of judging this myself. Merely being a doctor's kid doesn't mean you know all this stuff. Not like he ever even talked to me much.
Better to err on the side of caution. And so it is I just am not forthcoming on any topic I'd consider as stressful for her.
The first report card comes. I hold my breath as I pass it over.
Her eyes scan it, "good," is all she says. My relief is palpable, now I'm breathing again.
I recognize the new girl Rachel that the principal delivers to our class. Daughter of a TO businessman, so what's she doing here, especially with that freaked out look?
Her eyes search the class, light up with recognition when she sees me. Recess time she is unshakable. Time to lay down the law, "now Rachel listen up, for your own good. My mother was involved in killing your set of people. Meaning, your parents will go ballistic if they discover you hang out with me."
Stricken look, "only my Mum is here."
I sense some big story behind this.
That evening I mention her to Aunt Naomi, whose knowing look indicates she is privy to the big secret. Still, not like she'll share it with people my age.
Next morning, the king of all surprises. Rachel smiles easily, "I told my Mum about you."
Ah ha, am I right or what?
"She says no big deal. Not you who did it. Better a Jewish friend than none at all."
I groan inwardly, but how do you argue with that?
After school we're in my room at Aunt Naomi's. I'm lying on the bed and she's lounging back in a chair with her feet up.
Rachel asks, "ever visit the prison, I mean after your Mum did the time machine thing?"
"Didn't want to, but Aunt insisted. Zero security roundabout. Anyone wanders in or out. After all, not like those people could go anywhere if they bothered to escape."
We both laugh.
"So there I am, going into this Day Room. Didn't even recognize her, they all look pretty much alike to me, a sort of manufactured, not real, look. Now try sitting there and talking when the neighbors are talking of gruesome ritualistic murders in a Satanic cult."
"So Minda, not going back?"
"Not on your life, too freaky."
"Go on, don't think you fool me so easy. Lots more to it than that."
I blush, "all right smart ass. Everyone in the place, inmate and staff, acts like Mum is the Queen of Siam." Blush hotter, "she's still proud of having done it."
"And there's more."
I take a deeeep breath, the better to control my overriding urge to grab Rachel by the throat and. Ok, back to being calm, I say in level tone, "yep, I hate her for sticking me with this." And of course, by now I'm crying.

Minda 8

2007-11-01T08:18:00.000-07:00

The New York Times website recently did a poll on who was the most famous Canadian still alive.
First came Minda Zilberg, serial killer, with 1,182,381 votes. (No surprise there, virtually all the New York area Jews wrote to the Canadian Embassy, demanding reinstatement of the death penalty.)
Second, Greenpeace activist/stuntman Bud Buckley with 287,124. (No surprise, it was a death defying feat on the Empire State Building.)
Third, hockey great Marcel Tremblay with 121,486. (Sad, you'd think he'd get more, having scored 97 goals last season).
Fourth, the Canadian Prime Minister with 13 votes. (A bit of a surprise, I didn't know that many Americans even knew who he was.)
A dozen others garnered less votes.
During the high profile trial of the famous killer, there were two completely different reactions in Canada.
In Jewish Canada, daily rallies in Montreal and Toronto.
Goy Canada was merely entertained, titillated. But since none of the victims were goy, as soon as the trial over, it was old hat.
No one in Goy Canada was overly upset about how the killer selected her victims. Minda had been a counsellor at Jewish Family Services (mostly marital). A number of her very own clients showed up on the victim list. As well, numerous patients from her husband's medical practice. Sick or what? I can well imagine the prison counsellors having a field day probing all her phobias.
So, what happened to Minda's family? Her husband took a leave of absence from his practice. Now generally authorities are quite lenient on death certificates. A person can be on 18 prescription drugs which forbid alcohol and still drink. As long as no note is found, they usually refrain from calling it suicide. When that person is a doctor, who should know better, the farce assumes comic opera proportions. Yet that's what they did, verdict of accidental poisoning.
Which leaves only the daughter alive, also named Minda, aged ten. As lack of luck would have it, she happens to be in a class that's half Jewish. Oy! But she doesn't have to stay long.
Family Court awards great aunt Naomi custody of me. Timing could not have been better. Just in the act of retiring, she sells her condo for an astronomical capital gain.
And so it is she and I move to a smaller city with almost no Jews, barely enough for a minyan. (And they're of the variety where we wouldn't be caught dead in the synagogue.)
Someone up there likes me, bigtime!
The predictable happens. First couple days kids ask me various questions about it. Still, I can sense their almost total lack of interest and it soon fades.
They don't even view me a Jew. In fact, I am regularly told, with a good bit of disgust, that I am a typical Toronto smart ass. Refreshing or what?
I consider myself hugely fortunate. Every kid here has some derogatory label or other. Mine could have been lots worse.

Minda 7

2007-10-29T08:22:00.000-07:00

I know Indira and I are being victimized. As the new arrivals, we get crappy time slots for everything. Including biweekly counselling. So she and I see Ms Birnbaum at her worst. Not only Monday morning uptight, usually hungover and looking like she ain't been laid in a while and has had yet another knock down drag em out with her husband.
Her look clearly conveys, "I'm a piece of merde and so are you, so don't dare mess with me."
Bring it on.
"Now Minda," she starts in that phony sacharine tone, "when we met last we were considering your competitive nature."
(News to me, I don't think I'm competitive.)
"Now let's go back in history. There was a serial killer, a man, who set the all time Canadian record at 188. So just why exactly did you go to 189, then stop, law low, do no more killings?"
"I'm interested to hear your theory on that ma'am."
"Well everything else in your file indicates being non-competitive. Never bothered with school sports. Never studied much, could have done much better according to your teachers. I'm guessing this is for a cause, as opposed to simply seeking the record, personal fame."
"Hard to argue with someone as perceptive as you, ma'am. I believe anything a man can do, a woman can do better."
She gasps, "you mean, you did all this for Women's Lib???"
With an innocent smile, I nod. (Good, she's buying.)
She goes into an absolute rage, "do you know how many centuries women have struggled for equality? For how many centuries they have had the reputation of being morally better than men? Along comes bonehead you, sets the cause back at least a century, all by yourself. Talk about an own goal. ..." The rant consumes the rest of our time.
As I go out, Nancy is waiting, "so, what kinda mood is she in?"
I grin, "I pass the torch to you."
"That good, huh? Bring it on!"
Heidi asserts, "according to the rules, we can't vote yet. Minda hasn't spoken on the topic."
With an effort of will a Prussian Guardsman would approve of, I drag myself away from my daydream.
Trying not to sound too smart ass, I speak quietly, "now to summarize, we have less than 300 books, mostly Harlequin. Should we sort alphabetically by author surname, like a real library? How long would it take? Say an hour. But that's only the first time. Everyone here is familiar with how DRO works. Must goof off all day, big five minute blitz at the end."
Pause for effect, "so, who wants to bell the cat? Who wants to face down the lions in the arena and tell them Caesar says sort alphabetically?"
Heidi grins, "given they'd be inclined to tar and feather us, maybe it's best to simply drop the issue. All in favor?"
Unanimous.
Ms Birnbaum looks more hungover than ever. "Now Minda, looking at this file, I confess to a certain confusion on motive. Had you chosen 189 people at random or say 189 postal workers, I might be able to understand that." Tries hard to smile, fails, "but well ah that is, every single one of those victims just happens to be Jewish. Given your surname is Zilberg, that seems a conflict of loyalty. Surely you could have found even a few goyim worthy of all that hate?"
"No ma'am, none at all. None of the goyim were ever guilty."
She leans forward, bug eyed, "guilty of what????"
"Ma'am, if you check the list real careful, you'll see none of the victims were ultraOrthodox."
Dry reply, "I already noticed that. So, what exactly are all these non-Haredim guilty of?"
"Insulting me ma'am, I mean for being ultraOrthodox."
She turns deathly white, faints by falling forward on her desk.
"Oh dear," says the clerk as she dials the nurse, "first time this has happened."
Hah, does that make me winner or what?
There's a loud and festive crowd in the Day Room. Nancy rings a bell and conversations taper off. "And now the moment we have all waited for. We decorate one of our number."
An aside, "may I have it?" She is passed a large foil star, cut out of pie plate, strung on a ribbon.
Huge smile, "I will now read the citation, 'For single handed gallantry going eyeball to eyeball with the enemy, in the enemy's own lair."
Loud cheers as she drapes it on me.
Someone asks, "when is that counsellor expected back from stress leave?"
Someone else replies, "I heard at least six months."
I suppose that makes me not a rookie anymore.
(So ends Part Two; the blog could be inactive for several months as Part Three is prepared.)

Minda 6

2007-10-28T10:30:00.000-07:00

Next time I'm on DRO, it's with Indira, the newest arrival. I plan on a snoozy day, but she has other plans. "I understand you're on the Improvement Committee."
"Ye-es."
"I further understand it is the most prestigious one here. I've heard dark mutterings there's people would push a shiv in you, to get your spot."
"Indira, what you heard was sarcasm, irony, a joke."
She blushes, "oh sorry. Still, I have a complaint, this Day Room is beyond diss-gusting."
"In what fashion?"
"How come that TV only gets CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corp)? And it does look pretty old."
I sigh, "the prison has no budget for that. It came as a donation, when a bar upgraded. And no money for cable."
"And why are those mags so old and tattered?"
"Again, no money. What you see are donations from a ladies church group. Every few months, they send several cardboard boxes."
She pulls a face, "don't you get smart ass with me! Mosta those church ladies have husbands, right? Or at very least, brothers. Why doesn't that wonderful committee ask them to pack a little more variety into the boxes?"
"That would be because we and they haven't talked in years. It would be pointless for us to send any letter. Still, boxes keep coming, so they must feel at least a little guilty about us."
"So how'd it happen?"
"Was way before my time. This group was gung ho, going to show up, have entertainment. It went southwards and real fast, so say the old timers."
"Why??"
"Indira, stop, take a deep breath. Now I ask you, what do you see in the mirror?"
It starts to dawn. She blushes, "yeah, I hear you. Not like anyone stuck a gun in our backs, forced us into the time machine. If you are a lifer anyhow, why not go for the advantages? Pristine health, none of the aging diseases for the rest of your natural time span. Just one glitch, only one calibration will actually work. You occupy a body that's ten years old biologically for the resta your life."
"So you see Indira, in here everyone is equal. We treat each other like adults, not the kids we appear to be. Same with staff. Warden is real hard nose on that. Any staff show disrespect and they're on the carpet in her office, hearing the Riot Act."
She smiles awkwardly, "I get your drift Minda. Whereas the outside world, like those church ladies, get all freaky because they don't understand. Tell me, many suicides or murders in here?"
"One suicide, no killings in the last entire decade. No one carries homemade weapons or even owns any. Not even any fistfights. Verbal nasty, oh yeah, and often. But that's as far as it goes."
She laughs, "a stunning achievement compared to the rest of the corrections system. I suppose they'll give Warden an award for that. But no more budget money of course."
We both laugh.

Minda 5

2007-10-28T09:59:00.000-07:00

(change of narrator; Minda is now speaking; years in the future)
I knock quietly, no reply, then a little louder.
Nancy's sleepy voice, "whozit?"
"Me, Minda."
She opens the door, "for Chrissake, what are you doing at this hour?"
"You and I are on DRO (Day Room Orderly). We better go for breakfast soon or we'll be late."
Derisive snort, "rookie! No one shows for DRO on time, normal is an hour or more late."
"Remember Capt Bligh (our pet nickname for the Warden) said everything by the book today. Bigshot politco touring something nearby, could drop in unannounced."
"I'd forgot." She dresses quickly.
As we walk down the hall, I ask innocently, "so why is it you hate DRO so much? Few scattered books and mags to pick up, put back, not like we do janitorial."
Snippy tone, "Don't you start with me!"
As I recall, it's now Full Moon, perhaps she answers to its pull.
We eat in silence, then take up residence in the Day Room, lounging back, snoozing.
Later in the morning, she chooses three tattered magazines (all of them are). Easy tone, "here you go, Chatelaine, Woman's World and Redbook. Go on, take em, they won't bite. Open each to the index page."
I do.
Her finger points to "Troublesome in laws and how to cope"; she snorts, "as if you or I will have in laws to deal with, troublesome or not."
To, "what to do when you discover your husband frequents a gay bar"; "as if you or I will have a husband."
To, "recipe for the perfect Thanksgiving dinner"; "as if you or I will ever cook one or have anyone to cook it for."
To "when your kid fails math"; "as if we'll ever have one to worry about."
To "choosing the perfect curtain"; "as if they'd let us hang it here."
Her eyes are on me, appraising, "let's test your detective skills, smart ass. You asked why I hate DRO. You figger, tell me."
I grin easily, "because each and every one of them mags makes me wanna puke all over. And that's to say nothing of those sappy Harlequin romances."
"Close but no cigar, so, why do I really hate it?"
"Because it make you think of what you cannot be or have."
Curious look, "ok, now I ask you. How is it you are so utterly unaffected by all this?"
I shrug, "I don't look inside the covers, just pick em up, put em back."
She chuckles, "a very Zen thing to say, ever look at Buddhism?"
I blush hotly, "well ah that is I'd read some. It vanished on me when I felt the pull of the Dark Side. And now look where I am."
An hour after lunch, I rouse myself from my torpor and am in the very act of retrieving the two scattered mags when the Warden walks in. Now some people, I hate as a very matter of principle. Anyone that perpetually cheerful is either totally bonkers, on a triple dosage of antidepressants, or both.
Huge smile, I'm guessing phony, "ah Minda, you do such a good job on DRO."
(See what I mean.)
"I've been meaning to talk with you. You've heard of the Improvement Committee, headed by Heidi?"
I nod, but I'd prefer trekking to the source of the Nile with Darth Vader as expedition chief to doing any committee, much less that one.
"It's short one member. I'm recommending you. Once a month, this Thursday at seven."
I reply "yes ma'am" while throttling the desire to throttle her.
Once she's gone, Nancy turns on me. Nasty tone, "I've noticed a pattern here. You're the newest arrival, yet everyone kisses your butt shamelessly. And why? Simply because you ran up such a huge body count. I wanted that spot, even asked her for it."
With a look of fury, she turns, pulls her dress up, her panty down and moons me.
Without thinking, I do the exact same in reply.
Then we burst into convulsions of laughter. As this dies out, I remember something similar to this was on the list of possible side effects. Still, what can you do? No going back.

Minda 4

2007-10-26T08:19:00.000-07:00

Savard, one of the Montreal biker set, finishes his story to a firestorm of laughter. Picking up his coffee cup, he turns to Pronovost, "that's everyone except you. Wimp! Chickensh**!"
Loud raucous cries demanding Pronovost's most embarrassing story ever. Awkward grin, "ok guys, now I had relatives out at Magog, would visit sometimes. So here I am, just left Montreal out on the autoroute on my Harley. I come up behind Tremblay, of the rival set, in his car.
"Now as I cruised behind him, I was positive. Saw the side of his face as he turned back and forth. Same car, same color, same model make and year.
"So, I goosed her to pass. Now when you got one hand on the bike, the other on an Uzi and 150 klicks of slipstream, you ain't in the mode of looking at fine detail, just do the job.
"I gave him and the car half a clip. It hit the ditch, rolled, exploded in a magnificent fireball."
Someone says, "but he's still alive."
Pronovost blushes, "that's the embarrassing part of the story. In Montreal, I never bothered reading the paper. In Magog, I always did. Next day, I discovered I'd blown away a clergyman."
Loud laughter, ribald comments.
As it dies, Savard turns to me, "you ain't a biker, so we wouldn't expect. But you are our friend. Think you could spare an embarrassing story about you?"
I grin, "sure, now my work was such I could move from city to city, much as I wanted. Moved often, just to keep em guessing. So here I am, in Toronto, ain't made any hits there yet, just casing. Meet this chick in a coffee house, we're seeing each other, but of course no long term commitment.
"So, just guess who my first hit proved to be, totally by accident. Unknown to me, the Revenue employee was her first cousin She had no way of knowing it was me of course. Still, I was afraid she might pick up clues if I hung around.
"So I told her I was moving again, my job. Then six more hits in TO just to keep the authorities guessing and hasta la vista baby."
Ooohs and ahs.
There's a stranger in Ms Shapiro's office. Introduced as Dr Anderson, she definitely has a mil officer look. "Mr Riley, take this as merely a warning, not a threat. Everything said in here is covered by the Official Secrets Act. To discuss it with anyone other than a person authorized by myself is an act of treason. Now in wartime, that means the death penalty. Still, you will discover our secrets remarkably easy to keep. First, futuristic enough that to talk about it anywhere other than a sci fi novel would get you labelled as insane or on drugs. Second, our secrets are sooo embarrassing. Now I'm guessing you don't like being laughed at. So, do I have your promise of secrecy?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Good, let's get started."
(So ends Part One; the blog could be inactive for several months as Part Two is prepared.)

Minda 3

2007-10-25T09:41:00.000-07:00

Ms Shapiro smiles, "we're a bit short on childhood details. Please just give me a quick summary and then I'll know where to get started."
"Yes ma'am, I grew up in an above income family, but not rich. The #1 factor would be my father."
She nods, encouragingly.
"To say egotistical, pompous and self-important would be an understatement, ma'am. Think of an analogy, George Bush with an ego as big as all Texas, with bits of Ghengis Khan grafted on."
We both laugh.
"He was 100% bound and determined he would only finance post secondary if I did the exact same as he, ma'am."
"What were your feelings on that?"
"I knew it would be a dead waste of four years of my life ma'am. No real talent nor even one iota of interest."
"So, how did your mother react to this?"
"She was very pragmatic and also anti-artsy, ma'am. Felt they should fund anything practical and marketable, whether university or tech. However, he had power of veto, controlling the purse strings."
"So, what did you do?"
"A year above the Arctic Circle. Came back with so much money, I only needed a bit of part time work, ma'am."
"So you might say, whether your father liked the results or not, he passed on numerous traits. An utter determination once you get in motion. A refusal to let others get in your way. A very self defined personality. A driving need for achievement."
I feel shaken, she's hit the target dead center. Maybe not as nuts as I took her for. I nod, uncertainly.
She backs off, rest of the session is easy stuff on high school academics.

Minda 2

2007-10-25T08:20:00.000-07:00

I stop for a break while pumping iron. Pronovost, of Montreal Biker War fame, stops, sits next to me, "so, how's things between you and the Horrible Hebe?"
I sigh, "Lord alone knows, she has gotta be more nuts than mosta her clientele."
Wicked laugh, "that's the only kind goes into the psy field, mon ami. Be careful, over the years she has made lots people vanish into thin air, but lifers only."
"You reckon they drive off to a secluded forest, shoot you?"
"Not likely, no capital punishment in Canada. Meaning it'd take one slip up only and that whole Admin would face Murder One raps. Given they can't organize a handjob in a whorehouse, I find it hard to believe they could be that professional."
"Maybe a secret prison on Ellesmere Island, modelled on Siberia?"
"Again, unlikely. Troublemakers nev-ver vanish, only sucks."
"So, gimme your best guess."
"Injection, turns you into a zombie. Then off to a minimum security joint in the back of beyond."
I ponder a moment, "aren't we all becoming zombies here, in max? Would it matter if the process were fast or slow? Fast might even be more merciful."
His look is total surprise, never had that thought. He stares off into space a long minute, then, far away voice, "yep, reckon you're right." Chuckle, "still as a matter of principle, I'd die before I be polite to any of that crowd."
We both laugh, return to our workouts.
My secretary Bernie, sets his food tray down on the table, "so Boss, how's your day?"
"Same as any."
"That pi**ant publisher in PEI (Prince Edward Island) sent an email to your fan address, must have lost the private one. I forwarded it on to you."
"What did he say?"
Leans forward earnestly, "talk about cheek Boss, he wants you to donate all the royalties to some kid charity in PEI and revise three chapters."
I sigh, "Bernie, you're only in here for insider trading, just don't understand the lifer mindset. Money means zip to me. My only concern, it must be a legitimate registered charity. So, could you zip off an email to Revenue, see if it's on the registered list?"
"Sure Boss, no problem."
"Long as the charity is legit, I'm willing to negotiate, but my limit is one chapter. I'm just not in that mindset anymore, the gritty crime novel. I'm now off in outer space, my sci fi novel. It would take huge gear shifting to do 3, but one wouldn't be too hard."
"You know Boss, I realized I have a huge problem next year."
"Bernie, you get out next year, how could that possibly be a problem?"
"Well you see Boss, only reason I agreed to be your secretary for free, you get lots of email, 500 fan letters a day. And of course, since I pretend to be you, I get to write hot messages to hundreds of women all over. But once I'm out, well then I'm just back to being me." Sighs, "and me is so boring."
"Cheer up Bernie, I'll happily let you keep any of the fans you like. Continue to exchange emails with your favorites. Someone else can start on the routine list again."
"Wow, thanks a lot."

Minda 1

2007-10-24T07:02:00.000-07:00

The prison psychologist Ms Shapiro smiles warmly, "Mr Riley, always a pleasure to see you. My very best client, more progress than anyone."
(Yikes, what does that say about the rest?)
"Everyone else gives off all those hate vibes, hating the prison system, all pyschologists, anyone in a position of authority. Most manage to hate all women and a few throw in the bonus of antiSemitism. Yet you, cool affable, hate no one at all, despite having done more murders than all the rest of my caseload combined."
I smile uneasily, wondering where she's going.
"Everyone else gives a lot of yes or no or grunt which could be either. Not you, very helpful. Mostly you have four standard lines:
1. I don't know, ma'am.
2. I never thought about that before, ma'am.
3. I'd prefer not to talk about that, ma'am.
4. I consider that taboo, ma'am.
Now depending on which one you answer to any particular question gives a lot of insight. I'm immensely pleased with our progress thus far. But ah, how do you feel about these appointments?"
I stare at her in wild disbelief.
Grin, "ah once again too polite to state the obvious, sick to death of me and more."
I blush.
"Mr Riley, it's not my job to drag you in here every two weeks for the rest of your life, but it is within my authority to do so. I really only need you here til the psy profile is complete. So, if you considered being just a bit more helpful, it'd save a lot of appointments."
I ponder a moment, "all right ma'am, bring it on, I'll try anything except taboo."
"Good, now do you admit, informally of course, that you did the crimes you were convicted of?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Now the harder question, motivation. You did 188 serial killings of Revenue employees. Yet your tax history was carefully examined in court. Never in arrears, never late, never re-assessed, never in dispute. So, where exactly does all that hate come from?"
I blush, "ma'am, it all got started by accident."
She gasps, then, "a little more detail please."
"Yes ma'am, see the first killing was in a coffee house 1:30 pm on a Monday. See my job was Tuesday to Saturday. I'd been at the library and borrowed a Sartre book. Now this coffee house had an L shape edge, where counter staff and other customers couldn't see. Anyhow, this fat swine comes in, calls me a fairy for reading that stuff. I feinted with a right, then left uppercut to the nose, really only meaning to give him a hefty dry cleaning bill. Unfortunately it was the exact angle to drive the nose bone into the brain. My coffee was in a styrofoam cup, so the fingerprints went out the door with me. Cool and casual, walked out, no one noticed me. Wasn't until later, on the news, discovered that loudmouth was actually a Revenooer."
Struggling not to laugh, "and then?"
"Some things in life feel so darn good, ma'am, you simply do not stop."
"I see our time is up. Thank you for being so candid."

2007-10-09T08:57:00.000-07:00

Rivka - entered September 11 to October 9, 2007 - an ultraOrthodox girl finds problems adjusting to mainstream life.

Tzeporah - August 10 to September 10, 2007 - a refugee from the past finds it necessary to remain hidden.

Caroline - May 7 to 14, 2007 - so what happens when both parents die of drug overdose, leave you growing up with Grandma?

All other items, last full table of contents was done April 2007. For ease of finding, please scroll down at right and click on "April 2007".

Rivka 11

2007-10-09T08:51:00.000-07:00

As it turns out, I never have to testify. The case is postponed for a variety of reasons a half dozen times, each time triggering yet another media feeding frenzy.
Hard to believe how many barrels of ink were splashed on how many thousand dead trees, all concerning poor little me who steadfastly said, "no comment."
Endless guys ask me out for coffee, but no one asks for a second time or ever calls. Why? Some are obviously intimidated, in awe of me. Others clearly see through the media hype and realize I'm not at all like what they were hoping for.
The Army takes umbrage. I am tossed for conduct unbecoming an officer. Now it ain't often you can wiggle out once the draft gets you in the gunsight. So, I suppose that makes me the winner.

Rivka 10

2007-10-09T08:38:00.000-07:00

Morning coffee break everyone files in. Just as everyone has poured and taken a chair, Indira speaks up, "hope you don't mind if I interrupt your conversations a few minutes."
Looks of curiosity.
Wicked smile, "noticed a pattern in life. Them who boast a lot, usually half or more is pure hot air. Who you gotta watch, them who say zip."
The looks get more curious.
"This is from Saturday's paper, one of us is mentioned in a verry juicy story."
Cries of "who?"
"Patience, now it seems there is this very famous Cabinet Minister. Not famous for achievement in his Cabinet portfolio, but for speeding and philandering."
"You mean Herzog?"
"Indeed I do. His wife is suing for divorce, named one of Us as co-respondent."
Blank looks.
"Ah you need one more clue. What ethnic group is a Herzog anyhow?"
Stupified looks, one says, "you mean she named Rivka?"
"Not just named her, gave her pride of place. Over a dozen women's names are given, I quote 'the worst of the lot is that notorious bimbo Rivka Nachtenstein, who has an ongoing S&M relationship with another unnamed Minister as well."
Laugher, loud congratulations.
I grin, "oh come on, that's a common name, probably confused me with someone else."
Indira smiles wickedly, "a way too modest you are. I Googled and you're the only one."
"I ah well ah"
"Save the denials for the court, we want all the juicy stuff. So what all did you do?"
Drily, "I think it would be easier to say what we didn't do, shorter list. No candlewax or piercing."
"Why not?"
"Haven't got around to it yet."

Rivka 9

2007-10-09T08:23:00.000-07:00

Our second gathering, Cindi addresses the crowd, "remember the fun game we agreed to play? Whoever's name is drawn, hasta tell their most embarrassing story."
Roars of approval. As it dies down, I say quietly, "I promised no such thing."
Cindi grins, "fine then be a wimp if you choose. Now as we agreed two per evening. Myself, how about that? It was back in high school, our family was visiting the grandparents' farm." She goes on to give a long and outrageous story of being caught in flagrantis during bestiality.
As I listen, I realize it's harmless to give my story.
My name is drawn next. "It was during my final year of high school, two months away from grad. Up til that point, I'd been hoping to continue on, do post secondary."
Pin drop silence, they're all leaning forward attentively.
"I was doing volunteer work at the synagogue. One of my jobs was the e newsletter. We-ell someone hacked into the program. The title line was untouched, but when you opened it, it was a huge ass mooning you, all drawn in tiny swastikas."
Loud laughter.
"The caption said you've been e mooned by Siegfried the Great, Kommandant of the Warsaw Ghetto."
They're convulsing with laughter louder than for Cindi; Cindi even looks a little envious.
As it dies down, I continue, "anywhere other than ultra Orthodox, that woulda been laughed off and the culprit found or not eventually. Not so the Black Hats, zero sense of humor. All my so called friends and that wimp I was supposedly engaged to dumped me."
Their looks are now sober.
"So I finished high school, left. It was after that they discovered it had been done by the Rabbi's own son. I coulda gone back, but by then decided I didn't want to."
Cindi breaks the awkward silence with, "in honor of the event, we all draw a swastika on each ass cheek, something for Rivka to aim at."
It proves to be a hilarious event and I decide in future to always provide some novelty in my routine, keep the girls happy.

Rivka 8

2007-09-17T08:19:00.000-07:00

Cindi addresses the crowd of a dozen women, gathered at someone's house. "I got good news and bad, which do you want first?"
Cries of "good" dominate.
"We have here an Army officer, Rivka, who has happily consented to paddle all and sundry."
Loud raucous cries of approval, then someone asks, "what's the bad?"
Cindi grins awkwardly, "she is simply learning. In fact this is her first time."
Some ask how that could possibly be, an officer without experience.
Cindi smiles, "as I recall you are from Montreal."
"Oh yes."
"You've seen the Black Hats, ultraOrthodox?"
"Who in Montreal has not?"
"Well that's how Rivka grew up, leads to a rather different life experience. Still, look at the bright side, no bad habits to unlearn."
They happily accept and we get started.
I decline to go into detail, wishing to keep my story suitable for children. Suffice it to say, the taboo no longer exists. Some guy seeks his butt turned purple and I would have no problem delivering.
And yes, I will be joining this crowd again. Two reasons, good practice and oh is it fun. Burns off a lot of life's stress and angst.
(So ends Part One; the blog could be inactive several months as Part Two is prepared.)

Rivka 7

2007-09-14T10:41:00.000-07:00

That evening I feel strung out, need some distraction from my problems in life.
I go online to look up the history of the Loch Rannoch Highlanders.
The Canadian version has never been to war, was formed as part of the Cold War buildup. They have however done two spectacular tours when the former Yugoslavia imploded during the 1990's.
The original Scottish version has two centuries of illustrious history. Their pinnacle of fame was facing German Paras on World War 2 Crete. History records the Germans "won", that is were left in possession of the real estate afterward. The cost, astronomical, far beyond Der Fuhrer's worst nightmare.
In fact, Crete marks a watershed, a drastic shift in Para roles for the Germans. True, they never again suffered a similar meltdown; but at the cost of turning the much vaunted Paras into essentially infantry with a status symbol badge.
It is then I feel a hot sense of shame. An officer in a famous old line Scottish regiment does not play silly games like the lessons.
I dig them out, discover the three lessons take an hour each.
It's not til they are safely in the mail box that I feel right again.

Rivka 6

2007-09-14T09:19:00.000-07:00

I was impressed by the food, reasonable price and location of Caffeine Cave, so I return next Saturday.
Cindi the manageress recognizes me instantly, "show your Reserve ID at the cashier, 10% discount."
"I thought that was just during meetings."
"Heavens no, any time you come. Mind if I sit here a minute?"
"Go ahead."
She flashes a sad smile, "that story was sooo lame. Only reason they got sucked in, at first they thought you meant a clergyman. I'm guessing you've never done S&M."
I blush hotly, "makes me a rarity nowadays."
"And I don't imagine there's a huge lineup of potential boyfriends."
"A tactful way of putting it."
"They're too fussy, feel entitled to walk into any bar or coffee house and meet a totally experienced b**** goddess type."
Drily, "yeah, so I've noticed."
"It's like starting out in the job market. No one hires you without experience, yet how do you get experience if no one hires you?"
I nod.
Leans forward, earnest tone, "I know how you can get lotsa practice, for free, with unfussy people."
"No thanks, I don't swing that way, pardon the pun."
Laugh, "who said anything about sex? Just I happen to have friends who would be delighted to let you perfect that stroke."
"I ah well ah"
"Come on now, you know I'm right. Do it your way and it's like walking around the walls of Jericho 118 times, your odds of snagging a boyfriend."
I stare off into space, ponder, "ye-ah, guess you're right. So ah when do y'all meet?"

Rivka 5

2007-09-14T08:20:00.000-07:00

I have several errands to do. By the time I return home, there's a voicemail from Naomi.
In as nasty a tone as I've ever heard her use, "what a ****ing liar you are! Missing the committee meeting over that so called officer meeting. I hardly think two minutes of business followed by endless S&M talk is a good use of the taxpayer dollar. And all you disgusting officers will collect a half day's pay off that."
(Wrong we collect zero and I'm out the price of brunch.)
"Now that I could even forgive. But what a traitorous swine you are! Everyone but everyone knows that Cabinet Minister is Jewish. I mean surely you could have used some OTHER story."
(Oy!)
"We've decided to ostracize you, hell will freeze over before any of us talk to you again."
Slam!
I stare out the window lost in thought. They weren't real friends but all I had left. One misunderstanding or another has peeled away my previous supply of friends.
I could call her, try to tell her it was just a made up story at random. Pointless, she'd never believe me.
The phone rings, Ingrid the female Capt. Uneasy tone, "just thought I'd warn you, better deep six that story, don't tell anyone else."
"I ah well ah"
"Hey look, it that Minister had been white, I'd have happily given them the name. But just ponder for a moment on who you are now. Can you imagine the ructions if officers of Her Majesty publicly trash the only Black Minister?"
"Ye-ah, we would soooo come across as racist."
"Word to the wise. Anyhow I'm dying to know, was it Wolfe or Montcalm?"
"Wolfe of course."
"Ah ha, exactly as I suspected, just didn't have enough clues. See you next meeting."
I hang up in bewilderment. Is it even within the bounds of the possible that two men have the exact same fantasy? Then I laugh at myself, they compare notes on cars and computers, so why not this? One learned from the other, tried it and liked it.

Rivka 4

2007-09-12T09:18:00.000-07:00

At a lull in the conversation, a female Captain turns to me, patronizing tone, "so tell me, what's the kinkiest S&M you've done?"
Actually none, I think the whole crowd is nuts, but there they sit, expecting an answer. Best to avoid extreme stuff or they'll see through my story.
"It happened that a Minister was in town on business. I ah well that is spanked him vigorously with his belt. For the rest of the evening, I lounged back reading a book ordered him to keep licking my shoes. Any sort of lag or hesitation, another swat or two."
There's a lot of snickering, except one guy muttering about "sacrilege".
I smile sweetly, "oh my, you must have misunderstood, I meant Cabinet Minister. And no, I ain't giving clues, not even federal or provincial."
The female Capt has a stunned look, says quietly, "I know exactly who you mean, but we'll just keep it our secret."
Despite the firestorm of protest, she refuses to divulge the name.

Rivka 3

2007-09-12T08:28:00.000-07:00

My second lesson arrives, then third. As I suspected, no follow up on the missing first lesson. I cheerfully file the new arrivals away, with the thought it's unlikely now I'll ever hafta bother.
It's a male voice on the phone, used to a lot of authority, asking for me by name. (Oh oh, the lessons?) I correct the pronunciation of my name.
"This is Col Anderson, CO of the Loch Rannoch Highlanders. Your presence is requested at our quarterly officers' meeting."
"It was my understanding Col, the Armory was padlocked."
He turns apologetic, "it's not a real meeting, we gather for coffee. Think about continuity. Now if everyone just scatters for three or four years, hard to get back together as a group."
"Ok then."
"Ten o'clock this Saturday at the Caffeine Cave. Your choice of brunch or just coffee, everyone buys their own."
The last arrival shows at 10:10. Col rises, "two items of business. Meet Lt Rivka Nachtenstein, who got the highest ever exam score."
I see looks varying from admiration to awe. Then realize no one else is privy to the secret of writing zip.
"As for budget, not good. Nothing, nada, zilch, a big fat zero for next fiscal year too. Enough of this, meeting adjourned, let's chat."
To one side of me, the casino and racetrack crowd exchange stories which are probably true, but to me seem incomprehensible. To the other side, the S&M crowd is so loud and so crude, they draw nasty looks from other tables.
Oh no, here comes the restaurant manageress, we're in big trouble. Not! She pulls up a chair, happily joins in on the S&M chat.

Rivka 2

2007-09-11T10:28:00.000-07:00

A week later, Friday's mail brings two brown envelopes from the Crystal Palace, slang for National Defence HQ.
One is my first correspondence lesson. I cheerfully file it away. Everyone knows that except for Revenue forms, much of bureaucracy is negotiable or optional. It they really want it, they'll send a reminder when it becomes overdue. And if they really really want it, they'll send a second request, right?
The second envelope yields an ID card with my unsmiling face, proclaims Lt Rivka Nachtenstein is a member in good standing of the Loch Rannoch Highlanders, the local Reserve unit.
For a moment, my stomach girates. Then I recall a newspaper story on how Occupational Health and Safety padlocked their armory building, until such time as ordered repairs are done. Given the current budget situation, it ain't gonna be anytime soon.
Now one of my downfalls in life is insuffient ability to ignore peer pressure, a common condition in women. And so it is, I find myself dragooned into attending a meeting of the political action committee on Saturday.
I'll meet Naomi, Gretchen and Sue for breakfast first. I arrive a few minues late, just know they've been talking about me. Now I really was planning to tell them the truth about the exam, oh yes I was.
But Naomi, who has done a hitch in the IDF (Israeli Defence Force), greets me sarcastically, "so how did the mighty warrior do on the exam? Surely the random draft machine burped when it spit out your name. You wouldn't know a matchlock from an M-16."
My resolve to tell the truth vanishes. With an icy arrogant gesture, I toss the ID card on the table.
Their eyes go wide and Naomi even blushes. I reckon that's a first, her blushing.

Rivka 1

2007-09-11T08:26:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning everyone in line looks scared, some afraid of failing, others of passing.
A fat hungover Sgt opens the door, "exams will remain face down until I give the order to turn them over."
We enter, find seats.
"You have one hour on the actual questions. When I order you to stop, turn to the back page, which asks what you find remarkable about this exam. You have as much time as you wish for this. No one leaves without first getting a card, when your appointment with the Colonel will be."
Theatrically raises a sport style stop watch, "begin."
I turn it over, write my name, read the questions.
1. Which brand name of guitar was used by Three Dog Night and at what approximate cost?
2. Who sang "Great Canadian Tour"?
3. In which year did the government order the abandonment of Hebron (northern Labrador) and who was then Mayor of Hebron?
4. How much did Gordie Howe donate to the United Way in 1983?
5. Give the name and drug arrest history of the lead singer of Canadian Zephyr.
6. Which Alberta town built a landing pad for UFO's and what is its length?
7. Give the location and town where Trudeau gave the one finger salute.
8. What was the rate of income tax in 1917?
9. Which author invented the word "McJobs"?
10. Wolfe and Montcalm faced off at the Battle of the Plains of Abraham. One was a closet fairy. Name which and give six clues to justify your choice. (note: foppish uniforms of the era are NOT a clue, as both sides had foppish.)
I don't even know enough to intelligently guess. And surely this exam is beyond psychotic. So, I'll write zip. What's the worst they can do? Hardly like getting failed is a problem.
Sgt calls time. Everyone else writes diligently on the comment page, some with a driven look.
Surely it is beyond a waste of my time. I pass in my paper, receive a card asserting I must meet the Col Wednesday at 2 pm. Rats! Half a day's pay shot, by the time I bus it here and wait.
Col has an amused look as I'm ushered in, "please, help yourself to coffee."
I do.
"I congratulate you on achieving the all time record high score."
I gasp, my coffee swirls, dangerously close to spilling.
"105%, qualifies you as a Lieutenant in the Reserves."
"Sir, could you explain how that mark was arrived at?"
"Certainly, anyone smart enough to write absolutely zero gets 100%, shows a person of good judgment. The 5% is your bonus for being a minority."
I raise an eyebrow.
"Just one thing, could I ask why you wrote no comment on the back page?"
"Sir, that would be because I found nothing remarkable."
"You didn't?"
"No sir, it was pretty much as stupid as anything else the feds write, ergo unremarkable."
He laughs heartily, then, "ok smart ass, it's off to a four month residential course for you. Unfortunately that won't be anytime soon. No budget this fiscal year. Little chance of any next fiscal. But we have a plan, oh yes we do. We send you ten correspondence lessons in the meantime."
It's all I can do not to laugh. Still, what the hay, I'm off the hook, so who cares how?

2007-09-10T08:48:00.000-07:00

Tzeporah - entered August 10 to September 10, 2007 - a refugee from the past finds it necessary to remain hidden.

Caroline - May 7 to 14, 2007 - what happens when both parents die of drug overdose, leave you growing up with Grandma?

All other items - last full Table of Contents published April 2007. For ease of finding, please scroll down at right and click on "April 2007".

Tzeporah 17

2007-09-10T08:26:00.000-07:00

It's the week before Tzeporah joins Revenue; I'm bed ridden with a bad flu. I'm at my place, not wishing to be a burden on her. In retrospect, this is a huge error, buy hey hindsight is always 20 - 20.
A very clear vision comes to me, a sense of absolute knowingness. I clearly see her with four bottles of aspirin lined up, starting to swallow the lot. I should climb out of bed, phone and try to talk her out of it, but I feel too ill to move.
With no other option I opt to pray. Yes I start by admitting I'm one of the least wonderful people walking the planet and I of all people have no right to ask for anything. However, she's younger, a good person, doesn't deserve to die over being temporarily down. So, please send a wave of nausea which will cause her to throw up the lot. And no, I don't expect something for nothing, you can take my life in payment.
When I awake, I'm in what is clearly her bed and the flu is totally gone. Walking to the bathroom, the mirror yields a total shock. Well uh that is, for sure what is going on the head is me, the real self; yet it's her body. Too tired to think, I lie back down.
The coroner's verdict is death by accidental poisoning. Confidentially I'm told there is a 99.9% certainty that he suicided, but since there is no note, they give benefit of the doubt.
I have the body cremated, will scatter the ashes on the water when I next vacation in Victoria.
Revenue proves to be a nightmare journey straight into hell, but not for the reasons I imagine.
In contrast to my previous term clerical job, there is no harrassment in Business Audit.
There are two sorts of sadists floating around here; those who indulge all the time and those awho indulge whenever the whim arises. The latter group spots me as a kindred soul and absorbs me with a rapid pace.
My challenge never is work performance, getting sufficient files of sufficient quality done. It's trying to remain a reasonable human by only showing my teeth when I feel the taxpayer in question has it coming. And yes I freely admit I'm a bit less than perfect doing this.
Karen proves a surprise. In no time, she has spotted me as an imposter, yet hangs on loyally, dispensing advice as we coffee together.
As we go to a coffee house at the six month mark, something in her manner suggests heavy artillery incoming. She steers me toward a quiet corner with a gesture more fitting for a Feldwebel (Sgt/Maj) than a friend.
Leaning forward, too earnest tone, "okay Colonel, enough pi**ing around, today you act. Enough of you saying, 'maybe later'. Look I'm not trying to be nasty, this is for your own good. Why? The two guys in question may not last long, compared to most that are available. So, how do you feel about S&M? If a guy wanted his ass turned purple weekly, surely you'd oblige?"
I sigh, "that is so last year. I've changed, matured, mellowed. That stuff all seems pointless."
"All right then, a TV sports addict. Downside is you'd never get him doing his share around the place, get probably a quarter or less of the attention most women consider necessary. Upside, he doesn't drink to excess, or smoke or gamble."
Compared to everyone else she's mentioned, this guy sounds like pure heaven. Why play around? I smile, "ok, set me up for coffee with him."
Encouraging smile, "that's the spirit, you've come a long way," then picks up her cell.

Tzeporah 16

2007-09-07T10:30:00.000-07:00

And then the unthinkable happens. Some bureaucrat from External Affairs, no doubt driven by a sense of righteous zeal, leaks my file to the media.
We-ell, there is no photo given and it is a very common surname. There is however voluminous anecdotal evidence of the doings of my first cousin. Head of a squad of soldiers, he oversaw some 30 Russian POWs in labor of a previously abandoned as too marginal small coal mine. The file comes complete with the endorsement of the four previous Ministers that this guy is simply too small a fish to waste any investigative resources on.
Curiously nothing happens. No reporters, no knock on the door from CSIS (CIA with a stutter), no assassins.
I find myself feeling almost left out. Still, I now need all the psy energy I can muster, as Tzeporah is totally freaked by the progress of her job search. Revenue now looks to be inevitable and she isn't taking it well at all.

Tzeporah 15

2007-09-07T08:25:00.000-07:00

I soon soften in my views on the matter. There are of course two limiting factors which would slow Tzeporah down in any inclination to excess travel: money and the amount of vacation time she has available. So, if I hafta go work three months each year to pay my share, who cares?
Upon return to Canada, I continue on with the reading list I got from Karen. Since I am not faculty or staff or student, I cannot get a borrowing card, but must read in university library.
A lot of this stuff is quite shaking, and I find I must consult by phone with Karen.
Tzeporah gets a huge shock, her department is downsizing and she is placed on one year of notice, given priority rights to use elsewhere in the public service. Initial response to this is not good, no one actually spending money is hiring. Only gargantuan Revenue keeps taking in people. While her risk of being unemployed is quite low, her risk of suffering a substantial downturn in quality is huge, given Revenue's bad reputation.
Since I'm at the library most weekdays, I fall into the pattern of spending a few minutes perusing the Globe and Mail, Canada's only truly national newspaper.
It's a front page item, a leak from External Affairs. There is a quasi secret government project called the Jerusalem List, text of memo given.
At first of course, the government even denies it exists. Once handwriting experts confirm the validity of signatures of both External Affairs Minister and National Safety Minister, they backpedal and admit that yes, it does exist.
As days proceed and question period in Parliament gets more and more embarrassing, they finally assert that it has been invoked only four times since inception. Three of the people are now dead.
This of course heightens the media and Parliamentary circus as everyone wishes to know who that person might be.
The left steadfastly asserts it is a massive violation of human rights and the right, that the person got off easy, should have been charged with something or other.
Eventually the newspaper goes to court, to obtain an order for release of name. After several days of closed door session, they issue a remarkable statement.
Archival and photo experts have pored over this diligently. They are convinced odds are 1/3 that the Canadian man on the Jerusalem List is really who he is alleged to be and 2/3 that he is the two year younger brother.
Accordingly, the name will not be released.
Curious. I have neither brother or sister, so who? Of course, they are referring to my two year older first cousin and his younger brother of my same age. The younger lad and I were in the same class, and close enough in appearance we were sometimes confused.
Calling up internet archives, I realize they have absolutely nothing on me. Even in they tried to prove I was the older lad, it's a lot less serious matter.
As to who I really was, they have not one iota of clue. My relief is enormous, as is Tzeporah's.

Tzeporah 14

2007-09-06T09:28:00.000-07:00

Of course we stay at an apartment hotel, with kitchenette with stove and half size fridge. No one can afford restaurant meals here.
It's a peacable place, cops float around without guns.
We read the paper everyday, ridiculous stuff shows like so and so fined $5 for swearing at the police. The biggie employer, sugar, runs a weekly column naming and shaming the litterbugs. Proof positive - paystubs littering the yard.
We enjoy it while we can. There is of course no hope of staying here. Their Immigration only accepts the rich.
And so it is we return to the real world or what masquerades as such.
Already I see future problems. As in she wants to do a lot of these trips. And yes they are nice, but not really worth the hassle, harrassment and boredom of those term hitches at Revenue to pay my share.

2007-09-06T08:39:00.001-07:00

Last full one published April 2007. For ease of finding, please scroll down at right and click on "April 2007."

Tzeporah 13

2007-09-06T08:24:00.000-07:00

The first real dispute concerns travel. Tzeporah announces we should go away to Barbados for a month during the winter, to escape the cold, and she is willing to pay.
I have two problems with that. First, and I'd never admit to her, there were certain irregularities about my first arrival in Canada. Yes I've had Canadian passports before, but not since the era of hyperparanoia.
Second, and I can admit to her, pride would not allow it, I would have to pay half. I suggest Victoria as a low budget getaway, one I use myself sometimes. With low airfares and motels costing $650 a month in off season, it's perfect. Well no, she insists she doesn't like the cool and rainy there, it must be Barbados.
My hand shakes as I tear open the registered envelope from External Affairs. A shiny new passport greets me, with but one error, listing my birthplace as Jerusalem.
I phone the toll free number. The third person I'm transferred to sounds amused, "no sir, I can assure you, we never make clerical errors like that. In fact I happen to have your file on my screen right now. Let's just say we let bygones be bygones, aren't interested in your real past. What we are concerned with, what you may plan for future travel. Now, if you really are going to Barbados, and similar destinations in future, be assured this passport will present no problem. If you have other plans, just imagine how much explaining you'll need to do after showing that passport."
I shudder.
The money problem is easily solved. I get a three month term hitch at Revenue, working on T4 matching program. It's boring, but what do you expect?
And so it is, we are aloft. As we near Barbados, the hostesses pass out tourist arrival cards.
Tzeporah sees me fill mine out, "holy sh**, I never knew that."
"Knew what?"
"Don't play innocent, you know what I mean, born in Jerusalem."
I smile wanly, feel it's wisest not to divulge my conversation with External Affairs.
By now she's laughing, "it would appear Fate has a huge sense of irony, imagine that, You arriving on the planet in Jerusalem."
I pull a face, "well kept secret it was, not something you'd want to see mentioned in Der Sturmer."

Tzeporah 12

2007-09-04T11:02:00.000-07:00

A number of things happen. For one, I get a reading list of items from the university library from Karen, and start learning more on the topic.
Things are of course much better between Tzeporah and me.
Also, Karen holds a tutorial for Tzeporah, shows her some of the tricks used in training me. Once this gets put into practice, the energy level between Tzeporah and me goes a way up.
Yes, things look good, but paradoxically this makes me uneasy. See my experience is, whenever stuff appears to be going well, then watch out. It's been like that for so many years, it's hard to shake that feeling.
(So ends Part Two; the blog could be inactive for several months as Part Three is prepared.)

Tzeporah 11

2007-09-04T09:19:00.000-07:00

My first reaction is a bit of huffiness; no one likes being preached at. Within minutes, it melts away as I realize Karen was giving me the advice for my own good.
I follow her orders to the letter. It succeeds beyond even my wildest expectations. At first, I'm suspicious, wonder why. Then, hearing Tzeporah talk of Ottawa, it becomes obvious.
You see, most of her colleagues there were French Canadians, who tend to dislike her group even more than Anglos do.
So, in a sense I represented contrast value, doing the right thing at the right time.
I realize of course I owe a gift to Karen, yet ponder on what. It could not be something her boyfriend would either know of or be able to disapprove of. Of course, a gift certificate at the book store.

Tzeporah 10

2007-09-04T08:22:00.000-07:00

The third weekend brings a surprise. Friday evening I must perform in front of two of her female friends.
Now, to be fair to Karen, she was honest from the start. She never either stated or implied an ongoing relationship. Her real boyfriend, who had given permission to wander during his abscence, was on a tour of duty in Afghanistan, which would end about two weeks before Tzeporah's return from Ottawa.
Still, I had been at least half heartedly hoping to stay on, what with the huge amount of energy between us.
I arrive at her place for that final weekend.
She grins, "before we get started, time we had a serious talk."
Don't you just hate it when women say that.
"Now we've very scrupulously avoided any of that taboo topic, the history. Still, one comment should suffice. I've read quite a bit on it. Conclusion, your side was considerably more traumatized by events than mine."
I blush hotly.
"Nothing to be ashamed of, let's keep it all clinical. Now the standard response is PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Basically, you experience a shutting down of pretty much any emotion; if not total, then almost so, right?"
"Yes."
"Which explains your relationships with women in general and Tzeporah in particular. Now, she actually likes you and a fair amount; yet you find yourself to be neutral, ambivalent, right?"
"Yes."
"But yet you connected well with me?"
Again I blush.
"Hey look nothing to be ashamed, proof you aren't totally gone. Now, here's what I'm telling you to do about Tzeporah. Meet her at the airport, take her straight home and deliver a vigorous spanking. Come on, don't look squeamish, you remember how well she reacted to our weekend of cleaning?"
"Yes."
"So, just do it. Force yourself to be nice, to be involved, until it starts to come naturally. And now, "giggle, "you can start by practising on me."

Tzeporah 9

2007-08-31T11:14:00.000-07:00

By the second weekend, I've spotted Karen's pattern. She's now got me totally hooked on the adrenalin and endorphins. The paddle is no longer for punishment, as in missing a spot cleaning; it's now a reward for being good. Punishment is simply not getting.
Now combine that with the horniness and I'm learning lots fast, about what she prefers. Yet I love every minute.

Tzeporah 8

2007-08-31T09:40:00.000-07:00

My big chance comes a lot sooner than expected. Tzeporah, a federal employee, is sent to Ottawa on a four month acting assignment, where she'll be lodged in an apartment hotel. We agree that each is free to wander in the interim, but we'll hook up again after her return.
I go to the airport to see her off. Not five minutes after she enters the secured area, my cell rings. It's Karen, enquiring if I'm free this weekend. I agree to show at six on Friday.
Once I've assumed the position, hands and knees, she recites her list of rules, punctuating it with paddle strokes. With a wicked smile, she attaches a device, then puts the key on a chain around her neck. "Let's just say horniness elevates the educational level." She proceeds to deliver a paddling more vigorous than before, as I feel as if I've arrived in heaven.
After, she puts me to work cleaning, and being very fussy about it.

Tzeporah 7

2007-08-31T08:28:00.000-07:00

The weekend is unseasonably hot, there is no air conditioning. First we run Tzeporah's curtains (polyester) through the coin laundry downstairs and wash the inside of panes and frames.
Once the curtains are back up, we remove clothes, to work in more comfort.
Yes there is clowning, how would there not be? But we work hard, though nominally the boss I pitch in.
In the kitchen Karen picks up a heavy plastic spatula, swings it several times producing whistling sounds. She sees right through my fascination while pretending to be nonchalant. Joking tone, "like to try?"
"Sure."
"On your hands and knees."
It's a good acting job. For Tzeporah's benefit, it appears to be clowning swings. In reality, it's 24 smoking hot strokes, the secret being in the wrist action.
Tzeporah buys the illusion completely rolling around convulsed in laughter.
Karen's hard pinch and knowing look conveys a promise of more in the future.
Lest she mistake me for lack of interest, I wiggle my butt defiantly, which draws two more pinches, considerably harder.
Less mature people might have spent the rest of the weekend in games of brinksmanship and got caught. An unspoken message passes between Karen and me. Acting as if it was no more than a clown show, we return to cleaning.
Every now and again, when she's sure the coast is clear, she pinches me again, just so I won't forget her. As if I would!

Tzeporah 6

2007-08-30T08:25:00.000-07:00

Proceedings have just finished at Tzeporah's.
Overly casual tone, Karen says, "ok, seen with my own eyes, I'll pay the bet. I come around here this weekend, help clean up. You'll have to be here."
"Why me?" I ask.
"Why without you, nothing would likely get done. We'd sit around, drink wine, talk. But an officerial type like you, give us a sense of direction. Tell us what to do." Tongue between her teeth, "and of course spank if you deem it necessary."
Now on one level, simply a request to turn a weekend of drudgery into a weekend of fun. I would look like one prize horse's patoot if I don't play along. On another level, a potential S&M relationship, from which I would run like the plague. Why? In most such, it turns into a one sided transfer of life energy from S to M.
Now if I actually had any, and in surplus, I might not mind sharing. However, I find myself in deficit position.
With a brave front, hoping this is a one time event, I reply casually, "ok, I'll be here."

Tzeporah 5

2007-08-29T10:04:00.000-07:00

As month follows month, Tzeporah soon becomes the least favorite time of my week. Why? Lotta reasons.
She smokes, too much, she, her clothes, drapes, furniture and carpet reeks. Too many overflowing ashtrays.
I prefer flat surfaces such as desk top, kitchen counter or table to be free of debris, so they can be used for stated purpose. Clutter makes my skin crawl, especially when covered with dust.
The kitchen is so filthy I would not trust a glass of water in that place.
She plays music, too loud; whereas I prefer silence.
But underlying it all, she is the enemy and my prejudices simply do not vanish.
So, why do I keep going, it being so pointless? Is not all of life?
It happened the first real spring day. I walked out after buying a $10 phone card, decided to visit the sidewalk cafe area. Just my bad luck, I ran into Tzeporah and her friend, a face vaguely familiar, whose name is given as Karen.
Smart ass look, Karen says, "I was really surprised to hear you are still alive. Lotta people around who would like to change that."
Bor-ring, how many times have I been obliquely threatened by these people? She continues with the by now familiar, "that of course is only for the truly ignorant. I'm smart enough to know the consequences."
I nod vaguely, regret my sidewalk cafe impulse.
Karen continues, "even more surprising, imagine you and Tzeporah screwing! Of course I bet it wasn't so."
What an idiot!
"Of course to pay my bet, I'll have to watch."
"Go to hell," I reply, "only way you watch is tied to a chair." (no kinky intent meant, purely I didn't want her to use her cell as camera and splash my face all over You Tube.)
She laughs, "you old devil, what a way you have. Be there with bells on my feet."
I groan inwardly, but what can you do?

Tzeporah 4

2007-08-15T08:02:00.000-07:00

The blog owner tells me my story must be kept suitable for children, so I decline comment on activity in her apartment.
After leaving, I ponder. She and I come from opposing groups, with a long and unfriendly history. As well, I tend to be a bit too paranoid for my own good, but not to extremes.
Even after discounting for these two known prejudices, my read is she is up to something.
But then, I shrug, what of it? I've already been walking the planet for a whole lot longer than you'd believe and I am overcome by the sheer tedium of it all. If she has a plot to hasten my demise, hey bring it on.
At this point, my cell rings. She purrs, "that was nice, when are you coming back?"
"As we agreed, next week."
"If you come back early, I promise to (censored)."
I gasp, near swallowing the phone, then, "you would?"
"Absolutely and I'd love every minute of it."
Now it sure is a good thing this cell isn't transmitting my face as I digest this. With what she just promised, there is a mathematical chance I will depart this lamentable planet sooner and not later - with a heart attack. And if not, well hey it'll still be fun.
Hoping my voice does not give away the duality of my emotions, I reply, "ok, let's coordinate our social schedules."
(So ends Part One; the blog could be inactive for several months as Part Two is prepared.)

2007-08-14T08:43:00.000-07:00

was last published April 2007. For ease of finding, please scroll down at right and click on "April 2007."

Tzeporah 3

2007-08-14T08:03:00.000-07:00

I return home to find Fred in the lobby holding a clipboard. He's a retired farmer, rendered bankrupt by the depradations of Revenue Canada, that's why he's in a low budget seniors building. He still is president of the local chapter of the National Farmers Union, a position I suspect he keeps simply because no one else wants it.
Now normally Fred and his coterie of bankrupt ex-farmers view me with condescension, as your typical city slicker. So, when he addresses me in friendly tone, I know he wants something, "bad time of the year for all this, I tell you. All the farmers with any money are off playing snowbird in Arizona. We gotta put together a bus load of people for the demonstration at the Canadian Wheat Board office (in a neighboring city). So, Saturday, how bout a free ride and nice picnic lunch?"
"Fred, these are seniors, that bus better have a bathroom."
"It does, so, we leave at 8. Dress warm, never know."
Well here we are. It's cold enough to freeze the you know what off a brass monkey. We're light on the ground. Sixty demonstrators doesn't look all that good when you consider the province has that many thousand farmers.
A CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corp) truck rolls up and out hop a cameraman and reporter. Instantly they head towards me. Logical that they should. I'm a little better dressed than most, definitely look much more fit and trim and have that sort of take charge air.
"Sir, could you grant me a short interview?"
"Actually not, I understand we have an official spokesman for speaking with media."
Fred chimes in, "he couldn't make it, illness. You're on."
The reporter smiles, "sir, how do you see this problem?"
I know little or nothing about it, but all he needs is a short sound bite. So, "for a way too many decades the Canadian Wheat Board has walked all over farmers with a sheer stunning arrogance of which even the Sun King would have approved. Ghengis Khan would be thrilled seeing the ruination and scorched earth left behind by CWB policies."
"Ok sir, what exactly are your demands?"
Of course I haven't the foggiest, so I improv, "that the national president and vice president of the NFU be allowed to meet with the Agriculture Minister and Prime Minister. All are people of common sense and goodwill, and a favorable compromise could be reached."
"That certainly is a reasonable demand, sir, thank you for your time."
As they leave, the guys congratulate me for a good quote and wander back into their small groups. And then it hits, getting my photo on national TV isn't so wonderful. Yeah, I know almost no one watches CBC for anything but sports, but still.
I feel the panic rising, will it away with a few deep breaths.
Calm now, I reflect that to 99.999% of people out in TV Land, I'm just another anonymous farmer trash talking big bureaucracy. But what of the others?
Ok now, wool hat pulled as low as possible, scarf around much of the bottom of my face, the exposed part unnaturally red from all the cold wind. Not too likely I'd be recognized. Don't worry about it.
Monday morning, as I am exiting I see Fred. Huge grin, "guess what, it worked."
"What worked?"
"They agreed to our demands. Meeting will take place after New Years."
We both laugh.
"Headed for the breakfast special?" he asks.
I nod.
"I'll come too, and I'm buying, victory celebration."
It opens at 8, so naturally it doesn't draw too many working people. It's fairly dead at this hour, as we walk through the cafeteria line, make our orders, then pay and find a booth.
Not two minutes after we sit, guess who else walks through the line, orders, then sits with a nonchalant air, in a tone like we've known each other for ages, says to me, "so, introduce me to your friend."
"Tzeporah, this is Fred. Fred, Tzeporah."
Our order numbers are called and we get up to pick them up. As we talk, Tzeporah asks Fred small talk questions about the NFU, but with the obvious tone of get lost quick. Soon as he's done eating, he takes his leave.
She grins, "you looked lousy on CBC, but still recognizable."
I nod.
Sarcastic tone, "imagine that, they've been after that for years. You come along, one quote and hit the target dead center."
I nod.
She asks, "you do recognize me, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Look, I'm not a person who likes pi**ing around and neither do you. So, what exactly should I do about you? I could of course report you to the authorities. That would likely be counter productive, I'd end up in a rubber room, being observed by shrinks."
We both laugh.
"I could of course kill you, and easily too as I happen to have a pistol with silencer. Ah, I see you're completely unworried. You know for a fact that I understand enough to know how drastic the consequences of that would be. So, just guess what I decided to do."
It hits with the force of a freight train, surely not.
"Come on, quit stalling, give your guess."
"You ah well that is decided I am now your boyfriend."
"Very good, you are quite intelligent and rather intuitive. Now, take a moment and guess why."
"I don't know."
"You aren't all that good at seeing things through another's eyes, but just take a few moments to think. Ah I see it's coming."
I blush, "well that is, you need a boyfriend anyhow. You dislike men who are overly curious and overly controlling, which narrows the field."
"Go on, don't stop."
"In fact, the reason you choose me is very simple. I ask you no questions; you ask me none."
"Ok, say once a week, let's go."
Whoa! She is one big trouble maker. Best to seek an excuse. "it was my understanding that flings don't happen in the mathematical sense, there has to be some sort of well energy."
With that she reaches out, takes one of my hands in both of hers as if to read my palm. No question, there is an electric current there and strong too.
With not a word, but a clear facial expression, she conveys, "any more silly questions?"

Tzeporah 2

2007-08-13T08:03:00.000-07:00

The 4 to 6 pm shift arrives and we pass over the clipboard. They'll be the last as the drop in centre closes at 6.
At this point, it would be nice to vanish. However, it being a bad area, common sense if not chivalry dictates I offer to accompany my count partner to her car or bus stop.
The silence is glacial as we walk to her car. As it pulls away, I get two simultaneous feelings. One, relief I'm rid of her; two, a chill of foreboding that yes indeed we will meet again.
A woman walking towards me says in tone half sarcastic and half humorous, "so, lemme guess, in the doghouse bigtime."
Taking in the provincial government issue briefcase and the dowdy clothes, what else could she be but a social worker on a home visit?
In the same tone I reply, "it was my understanding you people reserved your condescension for those unfortunate enough to be on your case load. Branching out?"
"In fact, I'm guessing you pi**ed off the princess so much that your social calendar will be free for a while."
"So, tell me, do they actually give you people a course on how to be smart asses when you start? Or just only hire smart asses?"
She laughs, "if you can fit it into your schedule, free Christmas dinner tomorrow evening?"
She doesn't fool me one instant. If she had a real genuine husband or long term boyfriend, one the other social workers knew, she could simply show up alone in case of sudden illness or trip out of town. Fairly obvious she's a closet lesbian and her gay guy friend for cover stood her up.
But then, who cares? Not like I have any talent or interest in a kitchen.
So, I ask, "how to dress?"
"Same as you are or a bit more casual."
We agree on a time and place to meet, as we'll have to arrive together.
The guy sitting across from me smiles wickedly, asks quietly, "I'm ah guessing now, your first fling with a social worker?"
"That obvious huh?"
Waves his arm to take in the crowd, "listen to all that stupidity. Take my advice, run for your life, before it's too late. Find someone sensible or failing that, go off and be a monk; anything is preferable to this crowd."
As we fence around for a topic of mutual interest, we hit on politics. Now on the surface of it, he's a Tory (Conservative) and me, a Rhino (spoof party). As we discuss the long and colorful history of the Rhino Party, I soon begin to suspect he actually votes Rhino; Toryism only being a front he shows his friends.
Now my agreement with the social worker was she'd get us to leave as soon as decently possible; less chance for me to slip and reveal I don't know stuff I should as her "boyfriend". However, he and I are having such a wonderful conversation that she has to pry me away.
Of course we have to leave together, for show. As the car door shuts, she's already berating me, in tone you'd use if you were ten years married, for socializing with the evil slumlord.
Now I could protest that this is a free country, I can socialize with whomever I like. Or say I didn't know that was his line of business (true). Or even point out that since I'm not her boyfriend, she has no right to tell me what to do.
But I don't. Experience and observation has taught me the true futility of arguing with dogmatic zealots.
As she drops me off, I ask myself a question. Given that every woman I run into is a time waster or trouble maker or nut case, does that mean (a) all are so; or (b) that I simply have lousy luck of the draw?
It may sound like a facetious question, but it's not. If (a) is true, that's life, live with it. If (b), well by now I know there is no such thing as perpetual bad luck of the draw. If this happens to you, the Universe is trying to send you a message. And that, I have not yet figured out.

Tzeporah 1

2007-08-10T08:03:00.000-07:00

My barber Jose feels it necessary to listen to the rants of most of his customers. After all, he is a struggling small businessman. With me, that's reversed, I listen to his. Sometimes he's funny, the odd time I actually learn something; but the main purpose is simply so I don't have to talk about myself. I've found it best over time to operate on a zero disclosure basis, for reasons I won't bore you.
He gives a wicked smile as he tucks me into the cape, "I tell you the world is a totally unfair place."
"No fooling?" I say as a way of egging him on.
"You my friend constitute the height of injustice."
"Go on."
"You happen to be the only customer who both gets a seniors' discount and yet needs his hair thinned every single time."
We both laugh.
He continues, "yeah, and with that much younger looking face, bet you get swarms of women after you."
"Jose, I can assure you size is everything."
He gasps, then laughs.
"Sure is, and once they guess the size of my pension they are oh so gone."
We both laugh.
This sets him going on the theme of the unfairness of the whole man-woman thing; as if he could of course be impartial about it.
And then I'm out the door, once again glad that the person waiting behind me in line heard nothing useful.
Given my budget, I don't bother with a wireless hookup, just adjourn to the coffee house three or four times a week, use theirs.
I buy French Roast at the counter, choose a seat with my back to the wall. No, this ain't as in an old western movie, not afraid of being shot. And no I ain't looking at porn. It's just well, I happen to be looking at stuff which would raise eyebrows among any who vaguely know me.
She sits at the table next to me and instinct says trouble. With an overly casual tone, "could I ask you something?"
"I'm kind of busy here."
This doesn't deter her, "well you see, I'm taking this course on palm reading. I could give you a reading, for free of course, as a way of gaining experience."
"No thank you."
"Ah one of those who doesn't believe in all that hoohaw?"
Whether I believe in that hoohaw or not is immaterial. I avoid those New Agers like the bubonic plague. See lots tend to be fairly intuitive, get their messages from the Universe in more ways than just the one they parade around. And as I said before, I prefer privacy.
I turn to face her, "what part of No don't you understand?"
And there was my mistake, a full frontal view. I see her eyes go wide, she gasps, almost inaudibly. I see the recognition in her eyes, but not full 100%.
At this, she picks up her (cardboard) coffee cup and proceeds to leave.
I shrug, decide the best course of action is simply avoid this particular coffee house for a while and go to the others I haunt.
And then I dismiss it, it is a biggish city, and back to my surfing.
Returning home to the seniors' apartment building, I am accosted by that loudmouth Mrs Thatcher. Used to be a teacher in a small town, still in that power groove, loves to push everyone around. She explains that the biannual homeless count is coming up. As a matter of prestige our building must again beat all others in percentage turnout. (Where do they get that competitive thing from?) By now I know what's coming. She expects everyone mobile, that is not in a wheelchair or walker to show. Failure to do so will invite harrassment. It would be the height of pointless to protest I don't have a car. Maybe a third of people here do and she'd just find a ride for me with someone else. Given that something like this only happens two or three times a year, I find the best course of action is simply surrender, part of the price of living in a seniors' building.
The briefing is a huge crowd, in the theatre of the public library. They have pizza and coffee first, then everyone goes inside the theatre as various speakers address the crowd.
My assignment is a two hour shift, 2 to 4 pm on that particular day, at a drop in centre for indigent seniors. I will be partnered with a "T Auerbach", seems harmless enough.
I arrive about five minutes early, to take over from the previous shift. Their view is I probably won't have much business. It's later in the day, most have been counted. The lunch crowd is gone, most everyone here is the all day hang around sort.
They leave and two minutes later, guess who arrives. The woman from the coffee house. I groan inwardly, this is gonna be a long afternoon.
Fortunately, we don't have to talk. That is, we're right at the front door, on chairs and the crowd of smokers is endlessly going outside and coming back in.

Next Project, maybe

2007-07-23T10:32:00.000-07:00

The American magazine Moment asks a rather startling question: is the Taliban one of the ten lost tribes? visit www.momentmag.com and click on April 2007 issue.
Now in the ivory towers, such a topic could be debated for decades without ever coming to a conclusive answer.
One of the joys of fiction is bypassing all that tedium. So, I merely assert that yes, it is now the future; and yes, it has now been proven by these very same authorities.
To clarify, by no means are all Pathans (or Pashtuns if you prefer), Taliban. Yet the vast majority of Taliban members are Pathans.
So, what sort of fallout happens from a contradiction of this order?
The Muslim world convulses. Moderates are overcome with relief that the one bad example is not really one of them. Those who had previously publicly supported the Taliban face an existentential dilemna.
Afghanistan itself faces an existential crisis. That is, even prior to this knowledge, ethnic fault lines were there for all the world to see. With this increased contradiction, the only remaining question is: peaceful separation or civil war? I really hope it's the former.
Now the Canadian Prime Minister himself ends up with a lot of egg on his face. After all, who exactly were Canadian soldiers shooting?
Israel feels the pinch and right now. GNP per capita in Israel is far higher, so expect a lot of takers on the Law of Return. Burqas in the street. Once the inital shock fades, a likely alliance between the newcomers and Haredim (ultraOrthodox). The wild card is of course Afghan women, with the ethos of being the roughest toughest women on Planet Earth. Give each of them a real vote and a job paying 4,000 shekels monthly and it would be something to see.
So, where do I come in? Anyone familiar with this blog knows my main characters tend to be outcasts, or at very least, people facing a lot of contradiction. This could provide an interesting pool of fictional characters. Or not.

Caroline 5

2007-05-14T10:24:00.000-07:00

Moving van day is something I prefer not to talk about.
Next morning I'm walking downstairs in our building. Grandma and I are on the third floor. The elevator is so slow I only use it when I'm with her, as she has problem knees.
Just as I exit the staircase, I run into Jennifer, who lives on the main floor with her parents, one of whom is military. They rent an individual condo from the owner, who is abroad.
She flashes a bitter smile, "I'm sick to death of here."
News to me, "why?"
"On the base, I was just any other kid. Oh yes, officer kids had a bit more privilege, but nothing like this. Poor kid of the whole go**am school."
"No you aren't, I am too."
Bitten look, "oh yes your friend is gone, but still nothing will change for you. Now all that fear the teachers and principal have of you, that's your status symbol. You're such a complete and utter celebrity that no one would even bother to think you're poor."
"How do your parents feel Jennifer?"
"Like the building, hate the neighborhood. Once the one year lease is up, we are so gonzo."
As we approach school, she says, bitter tone, "open your eyes for a change, instead of sleep walking through life. Take a good look at kids' expressions when they see you."
Truth is, I never noticed before, she's right. Looks of hero worship that say no-one-else-in-the-whole-school-but-you-does-it.
Jennifer says, "see???"
I blush hotly.
"Makes me wanna puke. Now get lost kid, I'm sick to death of you too."
Ouch!
As I stare blankly off into space, I'm only vaguely aware Farzana, the new kid in my class, is now nearby. She coughs quietly, as if to bring me back into the here and now.
Uneasy smile, "real bad news about your friend eh?"
"Ye-ah."
"Can you answer me a question?"
"Maybe."
"Why on Earth are all the teachers, principal too, so super afraid of you?"
"That would be because I am really a werewolf."
It takes a second to register, then she laughs, "ok, so I'll avoid you during the Full Moon. Means resta the time you're ok. So, what do you make of that putrid comp assignment?"
I pull a face, "stuff will be the death of me. If you hear of me jumping off Ogden Point Breakwater, that'll be why."
Her smile says maybe we can be friends, "see you brought lunch today."
"And you too."
"Wanna try looking over this crap together at lunchtime?"
"Sure, why not? Won't hurt, might actually help."
I know she's in one of the richer buildings. Still, I doubt that will get in our way. We're both People of the Book and we both need someone.
(end of novella)

Caroline 4

2007-05-14T08:04:00.000-07:00

When you are a child, some factors you are totally unaware of. Others, only vaguely so. It's later in life, looking back, you understand better.
To me Grandma's two bedroom condo is nice, roomy, not too old, a friendly building.
Only looking back do I realize a $200,000 condo in James Bay area makes you poor kid on the block. Yes there are still some older buildings, but they've largely given way to the super luxury crowd.
Still, Grandma has clear title. Between her late husband's portfolio, Old Age Security (universal after 65), Canada Pension Plan (contributory) and the Veterans Affairs allowance to cover me, she's doing ok.
The Wolners live in the land of luxury, the cheapest condo in their building going for over a million dollars, and they don't have the cheapest.
This helps to explain why Elaine's weekly allowance is generous and mine modest.
Still to clarify, I do not feel envy nor inferior in the material sense. My sense of inferiority comes from seeing her vastly greater knowledge of the world.
Stands to reason, Grandma is less well read and travelled, gets basic cable and one monthly publication only, Chatelaine.
Elaine's parents get super duper everything cable and probably 25 monthly periodicals.
So Elaine is more than just a friend, also a window on the world.
To be fair, she never once puts me down as poor.
Still, in her household I sense an undercurrent, which leads me to believe the parents have some large and stressing secret they aren't telling her.
Her Mum is a stockbroker. The mood of the times has changed from fast trades to buy and hold, causing her commissions to nosedive.
The Provincial Department of Health, facing up to the budgetary black hole, announces radical changes. These include a cap on how many visits a doctor can allow in a day. After all, they bill the Province per visit. Some of the them (though I rather doubt Dr Wolner) are guilty of churning.
Only in retrospect do I realize how loose the financial standards were. To write mortgages on 1% down strikes me as the superhighway to Perdition.
And, with incomes drastically reduced for both, the erstwhile friendly banker shows his teeth, as in foreclosure.
The news comes as a horrendous shock to Elaine. They will now be renting an apartment at Sidney, not too far from the Swartz Bay ferry terminal.
I groan aloud hearing this. I'd hoped they'd be closer in, so I could take the bus.
Sidney, forget it, Grandma owns neither car nor drivers license.
Meaning I only get to see her if they come pick me up.
Then it hits me, I'm part of the reason they wish to leave some distance. Her Dad knows and disapproves of my family background story. Reasoning that, if they have to move anyhow, they may as well get rid of me in the process.
As Elaine cries and I hug her, I feel like the world's biggest heel. How can I be so selfish? How can I think of myself and not my friend? I feel a hot sense of shame.

Caroline 3

2007-05-08T08:04:00.000-07:00

Jennifer changes tone, "sorry, guess that came out wrong. Not proper to insult the dead. But still, if one more month had gone by, chances are both would still be alive."
"How did people at the base react?"
"Absolute tragedy. Both were quite well liked, despite the drug problem."
"Was one or both of them Jewish?"
Indulgent laugh, "I don't know where you get your ideas from. Neither was."
Elaine cuts in, "you mean neither were practising, right?"
Jennifer blushes, "I'm sorry, took that question wrong. I meant both were Atheist, strongly against any religion. But your question meant ethnic, not religious, right?"
I nod.
"Both were ethnic Jews."
"So Jews do drugs too?"
Jennifer shrugs, "you got a lot to learn yet. Any race, any religion, any occupation, no one is exempt."
"Well thank you for your advice. I'll ask you more later."
As Jennifer departs, Elaine shakes her head sadly, "we-ell if everyone on the base knows, that means every grownup Jew in Victoria does."
"How so?"
"Three or four businessmen have on base contracts. Don't like your odds of showing up for anything at the synagogue."
"Can you still be Jewish and never go to anything?"
"Dad would say yes, Mum no."
"And you - my friend - what do you say?"
"By now, we're close enough we stick together through anything. So, suppose they wouldn't let you go to a summer camp. I'd refuse to go too."
"Which would make your Dad proud for standing by principles so firmly and your Mum rather ticked, right?"
Proud smile, "now you see how much you've learned? That's exactly how it'd go."
After school, I'm over at Elaine's. Her Mum, who gets off work early, invites me to stay for dinner, so I phone Grandma in plenty of time.
I can smell what's coming from the kitchen, steel myself to face it.
As mushroom soup arrives, I see Elaine's eyes on me, concerned.
I shrug, what on earth can you do? Then I start to giggle. Elaine joins in and we're laughing like crazy.
After, her Mum, with a look of bafflement asks, "what was that all about?"
Elaine shrugs, "just a kid thing, grownups wouldn't understand."
Mum's look of bafflement contrasts sharply with Dad's knowing look. But then, that makes sense. It's businessmen who have those contracts. Meaning the item is on the men's gossip circuit, not the women's.

Caroline 2

2007-05-07T10:31:00.000-07:00

At recess Elaine smiles, "so tell me, what's your full name?"
"Caroline Indira Karsch-Ramyar."
"My Dad says any of those double barrelled names, big ego conflict between husband and wife."
I blush, "I don't even know how to answer that. Spent the whole summer at Grandma's, don't remember the parents."
She pales, "not at all?"
"Nope."
"My Dad says means big family problems. So, start with your Grandma, she's the white one. Where are the East Indian relatives? You are obviously half and half."
"I don't know for sure, think it's Guyana."
And with that, Elaine wraps an arm round me, "makes no difference to me, might to some. We gotta stick together, we're the Jews. And yes, I already know there are Jews in India."
No point bluffing, better to be honest, "Elaine, what is a Jew?"
She groans loudly, then, "sorry, not groaning at you. Now you see, your parents obviously didn't want to talk about it. So, they'd have told Grandma, don't say any of that stuff. So, summer's over, where are they?"
"I don't know, Grandma got a lot of suspicious calls from the base."
Her face clouds, "grownups always lie. They ran away, left you stuck with Grandma. Know what you hafta do?"
"Yeah, be careful not to upset Grandma. If she gets tired of me, then what?"
"Good, now a little more detail."
"Don't cause trouble at school, do the work right. Don't whine about buying stuff, help out with chores."
Elaine grins, "see, smart already. Now I saw the look on the principal, she's scared to death of you. There's some huge story happened at the base. Just we don't know yet."
And so it goes. For all of Grade One and Two, Elaine is my best friend.
I have no problems with either school work or other kids.
I spend a lotta time at her house, learn from her parents.
And yet, life's big mystery remains unknowable.
Until the first day of Grade Three, when the universe unloads upon me.
Morning recess some kids are engaged in catching up. For Elaine and me, no need. With the exception of the week she was away with her parents, we were together - at least some - every single day.
A new face walks by, one of the big kids in Grade Six.
I see recognition on her, "so, this is where you hang out Caroline."
I blush, "truth is, your face rings a bell, but I can't say where."
"Over at the base, you were in kindergarten when I was in Grade Three. I'm Jennifer."
"Oh that explains it."
"So, they ever tell you the truth or just grownup lies?"
"I believe it's lies."
"Shouldn't we talk alone?"
"No, this here is Elaine, my best friend, we have no secrets from each other, she's helped me out a lot."
"Ok then, let's start. Ever heard of magic mushrooms?"
"No."
"Have you Elaine?"
"Yes it's a drug, grows wild all over the Island."
Jennifer turns back to me, "ever eat mushroom?"
"Sure, Grandma makes mushroom soup."
"Ok, so how do you know it's safe to eat? There are poisonous mushrooms."
"Because companies grow the good kind. Food inspectors check."
"Good, now let's say you were camping. If you didn't know the difference, you could eat the bad kind, right?"
"Yes."
"And if you didn't know the difference, you could even eat magic mushroom, thinking it was as safe as Grandma's soup, right?"
"Yes."
"When they found your parents' bodies, autopsy showed a huge amount of the drug. Caused them to go crazy, stab each other."
"For real?"
"Only one question left. Was it a one time accidental poisoning or was it a long history of drug abuse? Tests showed a long history."
"Oh."
"And then the Col took over, total whitewash. Media never heard. Everyone on the base knows."
"Oh."
"So whatever garbage they told you, forget it. They're dead."
"Why are you telling me Jennifer? You could just have walked by, pretended not to know me."
"Caroline, old mil tradition. Families stick together. Anything at all, just ask. Only, don't tell Grandma this."
I laugh uneasily, "yeah, see your point. Things would get worse if she had a heart attack."
Jennifer turns to go.
"Please don't go yet. I don't even know. Was one in or both? Rank and such."
"That Grandma of yours needs a kick. See they married when both were Cpl. Then later he's M/Cpl and she's Sgt. Lotsa fighting then. Stupid a**hole, he was on the list. Another month and he'd be Sgt. They'd be equal."
I groan aloud.

Caroline 1

2007-05-07T08:02:00.000-07:00

I have met those who assert they can remember some events as early as age two or three. While I would never question the sincerity, I would wonder about the accuracy. This usually involves some major event, often with photos, which adults would talk of later.
So, how many memories are genuine and how many induced?
In turn, people consider the timing of my first memory a bit odd. Scant days before your sixth birthday is considered unusual, a sign of repressed memories.
It was late summer at my Grandma's place in Victoria. The parents had vanished for the entire summer, leaving me in her care.
I don't know what it was, but something told me Grandma was getting a lot of phone calls.
My very first memory is the phone ringing.
She answers, "oh yes Colonel, thank you so much for all your help. Wonderful how you people covered up."
Pause while Col speaks.
Grandma chuckles, "well yes, I guess the army wished to cover up just as much as the family. And no, I haven't told her yet, way too young to hear all that."
Pause.
"As a matter of fact Col, there is one thing you could do. She has to register for school here, yet the principal is hassling me."
Pause.
"Ok then, here's the name and phone number."
Minutes later, the phone rings. This time I'm near enough to hear a loud booming man's voice, one used to lots of authority.
Laugh, "she agreed to drop any embarrassing questions. The official line is both parents are deceased on a military misadventure, one kept from the media."
Grandma laughs, "sounds like implying they were spies."
"I never said that, though she might have thought it. And once I faxed over the form making you guardian should anything happen to them, she totally changed tone. She is now completely uncurious."
"Thank you so much Col."
"She agreed to do the registration on the spot. Simply take Caroline tomorrow morning. All she'll miss is the first day."
Next morning Grandma and I go into the principal's office.
She looks scared, "I've been giving some thought to Caroline's situation. Everyone else knows each other from kindergarten. Talked with the teacher, worked out a plan. There is only one other Jew in James Bay Elementary, in that same class. Teacher will put them together."
I wonder what a "Jew" is.
Grandma smiles, "thank you so much."
Uneasy smile, "just one thing missing, could you ah prevail upon the Col to fax over the vaccination form from the base?"
We arrive at the classroom a few minutes after they've started.
Teacher smiles ingratiatingly, "good morning Caroline."
"Good morning ma'am."
"Class, this is Caroline, come to join us after a last minute move. Come take this desk next to Elaine."
And then they resume attacking the alphabet.
It's recess time my education starts for real.

Next Project: "Caroline"

2007-04-27T10:39:00.000-07:00

So what happens when your parents die in a major drug scandal, leaving you growing up with Grandma? Stay tuned, under construction.

2007-04-14T08:07:00.000-07:00

1. Sylvia - short story of an Alien - entered April 12 and 13, 2007

2. Anita - novella of two schoolfriends - April 4 to 11, 2007

3. Nava - novella of two schoolfriends - March 19 to 22, 2007

4. Malka - short story of an unequal friendship - March 12 and 13, 2007

5. Rachel - novella - February 27 to March 6, 2007 - coming of age

6. Evelyn - novella - January 16 to February 20, 2007 - growing up in Victoria of the future

7. Susan - novella - December 31, 2006 to January 11, 2007 - narrator is dragged out of her peaceful life into a conspiracy

8. Deborah - novella - September 25 to October 31, 2006 - hubby is abducted by space Aliens

9. Judith - short story of scandal - September 15 to 18, 2006

10. Karen - novella - September 5 to 11, 2006 - shipwreck of the sailor

11. Naomi - novella - August 13 to 22, 2006 - join an Israeli Reservist on two star crossed tours of duty

12. Lily - book - July 4 to August 12, 2006 - after the scandal, then the physical handicap

13. Sarah - novella - June 2 to 27, 2006 - among the Haredi (ultraOrthodox), few are the women who end up in the Israeli Defence Force. Join one of them on adventures in an elite unit

14. Nuremberg Tour - book - March 6 to May 13, 2006 - first the mega scandal, then the lottery style army draft

15. Seema - short story - February 6 to 8, 2006 - living in the shadows of others

16. Vydia - short story - January 23 to 25, 2006 - arrival of an Afghan refugee family throws the life of a schoolgirl into chaos

17. Baseball - novella - January 3 to 11, 2006 - life of a baseball player hangs in the balance, is then saved by the intervention of Aliens

18. Romance novella - December 12 to 16, 2005 - just imagine the two individuals least likely to ever grace the pages of a Harlequin

19. Field Commission - book - October 11 to November 15, 2005 - a poor white and her Afghan friend experience misadventures during a tour of duty in Germany; then a week of total war

20. Lucky - novella - July 2 to 7, 2005 - Time Corps adventures of a Guyanese and her Afghan friend

21. First Mission - short story - June 20 to 23, 2005 a navigation error leads to being stranded in time

22. Futuristic Infantry - book - May 26 to June 18, 2005 - Major Zohra Zamani is an infantry battalion commander 500 years in the future. Join her for three Ulster tours. Between tours, experience the dysfunctionality

23. Alien - book - January 8 to 24, 2005 - a space Alien is exiled to Earth, taking over the body of an Afghan-Canadian woman in a state of clinically dead. The two sided of the personality duke it out for dominance

24. Green Lake - novella - December 2 to 11, 2004 - an Afghan-American US Air Force officer 1,000 years in the future leads a derring do mission

25. Time Corps - book - October 27 to November 22, 2004 - a woman of today is thrust 10,000 years into the future, joins a shadowy organization

26. Romance - short story - October 13 to 16, 2004 - double romance, set aboard a space ship

27. Jamila - novella - October 1 to 9, 2004 - a total outcast decides to end it all, but two surprise visitors change that

28. Dark Chronicles of Nooria - book - August 30 to September 29, 2004 - a ten year old girl is plunged into a chilling nightmare, a surreal Dantesque horror

29. Iris - short story - August 26 to 28, 2004 - Irishwoman joins Afghan contingent

30. Farzana - novella - August 11 to 25, 2004 - a ten year old white Canadian girl freezes to death in a savage blizzard, gets a second chance at life as an Afghan

31. Soap (Opera) - book - July 26 to August 10, 2004 - assortment of eccentric foreigners joins an Afghan contingent

32. Vignettes - short short stories - mostly under 1,500 words - mostly published July 25, 2004 and prior

Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Certain historical events did occur, similar to descriptions here, but not with the characters named herein.

Profanity - stars **** used
Violence - the minimal amount which is needed to support the story line
Sex - adult relationships alluded to, some pick up activity, no scenes of direct sex

This blog is neither for nor against any political organization, religion or ethnic group. The goal is entertainment, while keeping all stories suitable for children.

Any feedback, mccoyxyz@yahoo.ca Please do not expect rapid replies as the address often goes a week or more unchecked. However, anyone requesting reply will get.

Sylvia 2

2007-04-13T08:04:00.000-07:00

The Lieutenant in charge, a young guy, smiles affably, "now you see we choose the exact moment of optimal release. That is, timed to hit the target exactly, taking the Earth's rotation into account. Even if we are a bit out, it's no big deal. Earth turns at about 1,000 miles per hour. So being a whole minute out is some 16 miles. The tracking device is rigged to hit your target human as long as you are within a 100 mile radius.
"Ok, maybe things go sour, your target human dies too quickly or is away on a trip. No big deal, the tracker switches to target of opportunity, analyzes everything within a 100 mile radius and lands you in the best choice. Questions?"
"So what do I do if I end up in a target of opportunity?"
Goofy grin, "my friend, then that four days of briefing is a dead loss. Have to improv. And it really doesn't matter anyhow, Earth being such a complete and utter clown show. They won't notice one more."
I groan aloud.
Easy smile, "oh come on, don't get uptight. In 300 transmissions, it's gone target of opportunity only twice. Odds are good."
Famous last words I think.
As they buckle me into the harness, I start laughing.
Lt grins uneasily, "never heard that before. Usually they cry or scream. So what's funny?"
"We-ell I jsut realized all that student loan to do the year in tech. What with the minimum wage photo processing job, the deductions and rent, I have yet to meet even one payment."
Giggles among the launch crew.
I continue, "so you tell that Ivan Petrov (Minister in charge of the Student Loan Program) to paint my file purple and shove it where the sun don't shine."
Loud roars of laughter, to the point some get hiccups.
"Action stations," Lt says cheerfully, "we reach optimal in 12 minutes."
To be fair, they launch at exact second of optimal, at which point I black out.
Still, something went wrong. Given that our year is equal to 1.01 Earthling years, it should be easy to guess ages accurately.
So why does the figure staring back from the bedroom mirror look 30? Even if I'm out by 5, it still ain't the ten year old.
I lie back down, to sleep off the headache, which techies affirm lasts two hours after transmission.
The bedroom door opens, it's a man, probably same age. Grim look, "time we talked."
"Go away, can't you see I have a headache?"
"No, if I do, you'll just lie there all weekend. We hafta talk, and now."
"Ok then, but at least have the decency to bring aspirin first."
He brings two aspirin and water, then, "enough is enough. I have had it to here (runs his finger along his throat) with all these wild mood swings. I'm going out that door, and now."
"Don't slam it, I have a headache."
"Smart ass, always the smart ass. Well look at the bright side, arrangements are easy. Apartment rent comes outa your account monthly, can continue to do so. Car payment and insurance, outa mine, can continue to do so, as I'll be taking the car."
"You like the car more than me."
Frustrated groan, "you are sick, need counselling."
"Go on, probably just found someone with bigger tits."
His blush says I hit the target. He throws clothes into a suitcase, vanishes.
I lie back down to quell the headache.
Just as the headache fades, as I'm pondering exploring the apartment the phone rings.
It being similar to ours, I pick it up, "hello?"
"Sylvia, Naomi here. Voice sounds different a bit, got a cold?"
"Bit of one."
"So, is it true? Did he leave you for the b**** goddess?"
"What do you think?"
Uneasy laugh, "I don't like that chippy attitude."
"Why not?"
Much louder, "listen up, just because he happens to be my brother, no reason to get snooty on me. I didn't ask to have him as a brother, you know."
Soothing tone, "look Naomi, forgive me if I sounded a bit abrupt. I happen to have a bad headache. And yes, he left, complete with clothes and car. Didn't mention the b**** goddess though."
"Men never do. Look Sylvia, it's no big deal. Even though he is my bro, I know he's a bum. And it's not like you're legally married or anything. Someone else will come along. We'll talk later."
Well now, there are compensations to being an Earthling. No cops banging on my door if I fail to find a replacement for him in a year.
A search reveals an ID card proclaiming I work for XYZ, as a photo processor. Stroke of good fortune, I understand Earthling gear is similar to ours. Seeing a monthly transit pass makes me uneasy, how do I find the place?
This sorts itself. Naomi calls, to find out if I'll be ok for work Monday.
Gleaning info, she's in the same building, stops by my door and we go together.
Another stroke of good fortune, until she discovers I'm a phony.
But then again, maybe not. If I really do experience the mood swings, chances are she's used to it.
An hour after starting work Monday, I realize it's doable. Earthling lab gear is maybe ten years behind ours.
As for the rest of it, it'll come. Or not.
Naomi passes by my workstation. Blush, "look sorry I got rude with you. I's afraid you'd dump me as a friend, I mean after that idiot well ah. So, no hard feelings, still friends?"
I smile easily, "forget him. One needs all the friends one can get. I don't blame you for his behavior."
I see her look of relief.
So far, so good.

Sylvia 1 short story of an Alien

2007-04-12T14:29:00.000-07:00

The Coalition for Family Values is the reason why I find myself in trouble with the law. I hear the gentle reader gasp, well no - it ain't like that at all. They merely attacked others and poor innocent moi got caught in the crossfire.
I know, every convict or defendant does the same, blames others. Still, hear me out, before you are too quick to condemn.
Now our planet is considerably stricter than you laid back Earthlings experience. The law clearly states that within one year of either completing or dropping out of education, you shall find a registered friend of the opposite gender. No, no exemption in cases of psy or "those", the word being so taboo we never say it.
Now every high school student know that roughly 1/10 of both boys and girls are "those". It's no big deal, boy those and girl those pair off, in the sense of forming a paper relationship, covering for each other.
The occasional psy case like me sort of melts into that crowd. They know you're ok, not a cop or anything, so some guy will do the paper with you.
The problem being, girl those tend to be very careful and quiet, it's all behind drawn drapes in apartments and never public knowledge.
And just like you Earthlings, boy those lack any and all sense of discretion. Even a moron knows that a party of several hundred drug toting revellers at a bonfire in the park Saturday night will draw public scrutiny.
Usually the cops prefer to respond to the public complaints very slowly, with sirens wailing from a long ways off, give everyone time to disperse.
Except at election time. As the Police Chief is an elected official, and as CFV represents a huge raft of voters, it's then zero tolerance.
Curious though, exactly how many kids would there be in that park 11 pm Saturday, to become scarred for life by witnessing this?
Now here, we don't have prisons, that being an Earthling concept. We have re-education camps. Purpose is not to punish, heavens no; it's to turn you into a proper respectable citizen of the United Socialist Republic.
And so, the 200 or so snagged at the park in due course end up in our version of Siberia. In coed camps of course, so they meet girls; misery being considered a good bonding experience.
But the police action has a side effect, sets the one year time bomb ticking for 200 girls locally. In that time, you must find a replacement registered boyfriend or be in violation of the law.
For most coping with this imbalance, it's less difficult than for me. Why? The real girl those and boy those mostly know each other from high school or university or drinking in particular bars.
There are guys around who could vouch for me, say I'm ok, not a cop or anything. Unfortunately, all have had a recent change of address (Siberia).
And with the girls it's dog eat dog, none of them will help me.
The imbalance sorts itself in several ways. Some girls find guys. Others commit suicide. Yet others decide the Foreign Legion represents a reasonable option.
And when the anniversary date of the big bonfire rolls around, it's only me left to face the law.
The publicly appointed Legal Aid lawyer suggests I opt for trial by judge alone. Reason, being without a registered boyfriend is considered such a sign of turpitude that jury selection would be akin to Russian Roulette.
At least with judge alone, I get whatever protection the strict legalese offers.
And to give the Judge her due, she has made life exceptionally difficult for prosecution. Sent back the file some three dozen times over things akin to crossing t or dotting i.
And then, at the end of the trial, refers me for a psy evaluation.
Finally, the big day rolls around. Counsel and I are escorted into the chamber, to meet informally before the big announcement.
Judge is quite affable, offers us coffee and our version of Danish.
Once we're settled in, she starts gently, "Citizen Xar, it is my belief a person must understand it all, before a thousand flash bulbs start going off. You see, there is zero question of your guilt versus innocence. The only way to be innocent would be to produce a registered boyfriend. So, what we're really debating is your degree of guilt. Now I don't expect you to morally agree with that, but do you at least understand the concept?"
"Yes Your Honor."
"There is one obscure rule I could dredge up, effect to pardon you. Unfortunately, all it would accomplish is to set the clock ticking for another year. Looking at the psy evaluation, this would not likely do you much good. Merely prolong the agony, ascertain that you end up facing me a year from now."
I blush.
She puts on reading glasses, opens the file. "I've seen a few of these cases over the years, but never one more difficult. Start with the underlying psy condition, Asperger Syndrome. First cousin to autism, the Cadillac version of it. It renders the emotional bonding process inoperative. So, were I to release you, your only hope would be another phony paper relationship with yet another those."
I nod.
"Then the racial issue. Minorities are really only protected in formal situations. That is, if you were refused entry to a university or entry level employment for racial reasons, there would be recourse. There exists no compulsion for people to behave on an informal level. So, if in school or a workplace, the entire group chose to ignore you, your tough luck. Choice of friends is their own.
"Same as finding a registered boyfriend. The law tells the man he must produce a registered girlfriend, yet does not tell him how to choose.
"Then family upbringing. The death of your father, the merchant sailor, in that bar fight when you were ten is completely unremarkable, of itself. The usual course of action would be for your mother to forthwith find a replacement registered boyfriend and you would at least get a male influence in your life.
"Unfortunately, that did not happen. Every single year, she used the widow and child exemption. That is, until you were out the door, then found someone else.
"Economic status. Poverty of itself is no excuse for any violation of the law. However, it is a contributory factor when the person clearly lacked the cultural basics. No internet at home, no cable TV or newspaper subscription.
"Now people are measured on a number of different dimensions. Take your ability at math for example. You are in the top 2% of the population, common with Asperger people. Yet intelligence does not correlate with either emotional stability or maturity. To sum you up, you are doing ok as a technician, but a lamentable job of relating to your fellow beings. Fair statement so far?"
I blush, "yes Your Honor."
Sad look, "in fact, the matter is now out of my hands. In order to face the law on this particular matter, you must have the physical age of 18 or over and the emotional maturity level of 14 or over. Since you come out at ten on the latter, the law backs out, my only option is to refer you to the counselling program. Questions?"
"Your Honor, what would happen to me if that fails?"
Grimace, "at the end of one complete year of conselling, if you have not already succeeded, a further evaluation would be done. If this shows you are capable of progress, the program is extended. If not capable of progressing further, you are no longer fit to be a citizen of the USR.
"And no, contrary to rumor, we do not execute such people. They end up taking over the body of an Earthling in a state of clincial death."
I gasp loudly.
"Question on that?"
"Your Honor, with all due respect, what I've read of Earthlings, I'd actually prefer the execution."
Ironic smile, "but we do not have the legal authority to execute."
"But Your Honor, you do have the legal authority to make people Earthlings."
Gentle sigh, "for what it is worth Citizen Xar, speaking informally, woman to woman, I agree with you 100%. I myself would prefer execution to being an Earthling. However, I don't write the law, the Supreme Soviet does."
I leave, feeling victimized. As the door slides behind us, the lawyer flashes a wicked smile, "what a lucky lottery winner!"
"Say what?"
"The usual way on those files is to stuff you into a boxcar, send you off where it's minus 60 degrees and allow you the time to repent of your ways. Judge gave you a break there, do your best in counselling."
To be fair to the authorities, it is a pretty luxurious lifestyle, with the exception of being locked up.
My "room" is easily thrice the size of my previous bachelor apartment. Akin to a luxury Earthling condo.
We don't have a France here, but if we did, the chefs would be truly worthy of calling themselves French.
Most of the "honored guests" (the authorities would be outraged if you used the word inmates) have psy conditions which are more garden variety. Hence most end up in programs weighted with more group counselling and less individual.
As I am a statistical rarity, one in 2.8 billion, most of my counselling is individual.
They are professional, do their best, but I sense their frustration, dealing with a topic on which so little research has ever been done.
And in due course I am summoned by the Director. She is affable, offers coffee and cookies, but I sense bad news.
Gentle smile, "I'm afraid our counselling program has failed. Still there is good news. The usual course of action would be to make you an Earthling, random selection done by computer. However, in this case, due to its complexity, the court order says we are to select the best possible target for you. Now my opinion is, you should be matched to an approximate Earthling level of emotional maturity, hence a person ten years old. Give you time to learn, mature. The Judge agrees, feels that is the best choice.
"Look at the bright side, Asperger is a far more common condition on Earth, more research done. All the teachers in the western countries have been trained to spot it and similar conditions early on. Now, I'd like your opinion."
I give a rueful smile, "what else can I do? But now I know enough to know a good break when I see one. Being a random Earthling adult would be far more tricky."
"Good, the technicians will brief you."

Anita 7

2007-04-11T08:03:00.000-07:00

Recess time, Lily's a bit uneasy, "ah Anita, ask you something?"
Breezily, "come on, we're friends. Since when do you need permission to ask?"
"Well see, as I was up at the board, I realized I could be headed for trouble. Junior High is bigger, no guarantee we'd end up in the same class. See ah, well I really do need help in math, please."
I grin, "and that is to say nothing of growing up, having to balance your chequing account. We could end up half a continent apart, you know."
We both laugh.
"Sure," I say, "no problem at all. After all, you help me out too, so it's not like I'm giving you charity or anything."
I see her look of relief, "start at lunchtime?"
"Sure."
As the rotation works, it's our teacher supervising lunch room today. While pretending not to, she's observing Lily and me. I see her relief, I'm explaining stuff, as opposed to Lily copying.
It's remarkably easy. Boils down to self confidence, one's level of ease in different situations. I show her various tricks from back home, but don't say where I got them.
Within days, Lily is removed from intensive care, put into regular.
Saturday lunch at Lily's brings another learning experience. The guests include myself and one of her Dad's colleagues and his wife. Though both are Jewish, he reacts totally differently than when I was the only guest. He underplays, pooh poohs it.
Interesting, so it's like playing to an audience.
At a lull in the conversation, the colleague's wife asks me, in a tone of feigned interest, "so Anita, what do you plan when you grown up?"
Keeping a straight face, "settler in a West Bank colony. I have a desire to pick up an Uzi, not stop til the job is done."
Surprised looks. Quietly Lily's Mum says, "actually a lot of people feel that way. Still, be careful who you say that in front of."
Lily's wink lets me know she wasn't taken in.
In case the gentle reader is wondering, I have no plans of moving anywhere, least of all to Israel. Victoria connects with me bigtime, with its trees, parks, architecture, ocean, laid back pace. I love the place, and given that so many from elsewhere retire here, I'm not alone in that opinion.
Now all this time, I've been dodging Mum, for the obvious reason she could find I don't know stuff I should.
And then, in another room, I overhear her on the phone, "oh her? Yeah, strange happenings. Deadly serious, reads all the books for real now, helps her friend in math."
Pause while the other speaks.
"Yeah, exactly the cause as I see it. She desperately needed that scare on the book reports," wicked laugh, "but actually, a bit frightening, different look in her eyes. Saw her in a dream last night, wild look of joy as she shoots Palestinians."
Pause.
"Yeah, I know, pretty unlikely, she does have less than zero interest in Judaism." Bitter laugh, "several months ago, she went near homicidal when I suggested Hebrew classes."
Pause.
"Of course I backed down. Ever see that look when she gets really angry?"
Pause.
"Yeah, I know, lucky she isn't into drugs. Got a call from her teacher, could not understand the apparent contradiction. Everyone else got caught with more book reports, yet she was the only one who seemed to change any. Oh well, good sign I guess, means she's a fast learner, does not repeat mistakes."
Pause.
"Yeah, guess you're right. They reach a point, tune you out, proceed down the Yellow Brick Road alone. And thank heavens, she appears to be on the right one. Still might be nice if she talked, even a bit."
Next Saturday brings yet another lesson. Another couple, one of Lily's Mum's colleagues and her husband.
The two men are totally insufferable. He hams it up twice what he did when I was the only guest.
As I listen, I decide I hate Judaism. Yet moments later, I soften. When you're an adult you simply weed out any troublesome friends.
Lily and I go outside after lunch. She gives a rueful smile, "hard to believe there are people that bad."
"Yeah, I hear you. If he were any more extreme, he'd be Gur Hasidic."
She laughs, punches my arm in fun, "you have come such a long way. So, thoughts on the future?"
"Let's just say I'm open minded, neither pro nor anti, just wish to learn more."
She smiles, "exactly how I feel, we can help each other on the way."
And that, gentle reader, is the story of how I found my best Earthling friend.

Anita 6

2007-04-10T10:31:00.000-07:00

After school, weather being nice, Lily suggests we sit on Ogden Point Breakwater. We watch the ocean, chat. I decline to bore you with dialogue, just a summation of overall feeling.
As I listen to her, I realize we are vital to each other. She needs to see a little more insouciant attitude to life just as badly as I need to know more about Earthlingism.
Twenty years from now, we'll look back, realize we were a big influence on each other.
As we part company for the day, I realize I've become closer to her than any friends back home, where ultra superficial was the norm.
Of course I keep the two library books hidden away; don't wanna give Mum strange ideas.
As I read that evening I understand the author she selected. Lily doesn't want to scare me away with characters that are too Jewish, just get my feet wet.
As we walk to school next day, I speak of the first half of the book. She handles it quietly, just interjecting the odd comment to help out.
The boy Chad shows with purple spiky hair and a neon green track suit. We ignore him.
Next day, it's a silver track suit and he boldly follows us around.
Lily touches my arm, I stop, she takes out the book I will return to the library, turns to face Chad, "look at this, now what does it tell you?"
I see the wheels turning, but he's not getting traction.
Patiently Lily continues, "you saw us at lunch two days now. What did she do with the food?"
Flood of comprehension, "gave you the ham."
"Don't you think Chad, a nice Jewish girl and you would be a poor match?"
He blushes, "I'm real sorry Anita, yes I am. I would never clown around, knowing you're religious."
I decide to be gracious, "Chad, there's plenty of girls looking. If you say clowned a bit less, you wouldn't scare them off."
"Thank you so much Anita, I'll try that."
It works rapidly. Friday afternoon, we're in the washroom, at the row of sinks.
Nervously a nearby girl says, "ah Anita, ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Well ah, that is I saw how you fight, be deathly afraid of offending you. So, is it really true, you and Chad aren't an item?"
Easy smile, "it is true; I have no property rights."
"Thank you so much, well nice talking, gotta run."
As we exit we see the pair headed to the convenience store across the street.
Lily grins, "ever think that clown would find someone?"
I laugh, "not in a blue moon, but he does look different done up neat."
"So," she grins, "they say nice weather tomorrow. So we could walk around in the morning, lunch at my house, TV in the afternoon."
"Sounds wonderful."
"And don't let my Dad scare you off. He's nowhere near as Jewish as he lets on."
We agree on a pre-arranged signal. Any time Dad is overacting, Lily will wink or failing that, kick me gently under the table.
And so, I start to get a practised eye, see the games Earthlings play.
By now, I'm less judgmental, know Judaism is only partly religion, but partly way of life and partly social group. In any grouping, either back home or here, there will be those who take things seriously and those who only pretend.
Seen in this fashion, her Dad is like a lab exhibit. And as Lily points out, may as well learn to spot em earlier than later.
As we file in Monday morning, we are greeted by a huge stack of library books on teacher's desk.
"Originally we planned to just give you titles. Realized that's unfair, someone else could have checked out the book or some other teacher assigned the same one. Only fair way, everyone gets a book in hand. No swapping, I have a list."
I sense 30 inward groans.
"Now the whole purpose is not just to read willy nilly, any fool can do that. It's to get you a learning experience too. Now as you notice who gets which book, you'll suspect there is a pattern. To save the time of arguing it out, I'll give it to you.
"Everyone here fits neatly into one of two groups. There are those over identified with culture of origin, relatively unconnected to mainline Canada. For these, a book to help you better understand the mainstream.
"Then there are those somewhat or totally disconnected from culture of origin. For these, a book to help you reconnect, at least some.
"There will be no arguing, you get what you get. When I call your name, come up front."
I'm unsurprised to see Lily get a mainline book.
I can't believe my eyes as teacher hands me a Judy Blume book, the first one I read.
As I sit, I ponder. What are the mathematical odds of that? Slim.
So maybe, just maybe, the Earthling Fates (I'd hate to use the word god or gods) like me. A little anyhow.
As teacher drones on about some math nonsense, I have time to ponder.
By now I'm getting worried. So far, in my relationship with Lily, it's been me taking all along. Meaning if I don't find some way to pay back, at least some, things could get rocky.
As Lily is called to the board to do a problem, I snap out of my reverie.
No question, she looks lame at it. Teacher's face conveys the sense of first time seeing this.
Now to apply logic, teacher is likely nanoseconds away from realizing the lion's share of the answers in Lily's book came from mine.
I ponder the likely effect of offering help. I'm afraid too, unsure of Earthling mores, I could insult her dignity quite by accident.
So I pull a trick from back home. Rhythmic thought patterns, telling her she needs help.

Anita 5 novella of 2 schoolfriends

2007-04-10T08:03:00.000-07:00

I open my lunch container with its icepack to refrigerate. As I unwrap my sandwich, I see Lily's eyes on it, and a way too intensely. To my disbelief, she reaches out, lifts the top slice of bread.
Accusatory tone, "who made it - you or your Mum?"
"She did."
"So why did she make ham, Swiss cheese and lettuce? Your choice or hers?"
I roll my eyes, "since when does she listen to me?"
Her tone softens, "sorry that came out a bit nasty. Two violations of kosher, can you spot em?"
My near photographic memory zips back to the term paper, ah ha Judaism.
"Come on, trying to be insulting? Ham is beyond the pale, but at least not as bad as bacon. And mixing a meat and milk meal is no go; that is if you're serious."
I can see her weigh this a moment, then, "ok, if you chose this meal, no big deal. You show as little respect to Judaism as you do to school rules, but at least you aren't a hypocrite. Her, with all that holier than thou tone, shocking she'd make this. For shame!"
"What exactly do you suggest I do about her Lily?"
"Who knows? What can you do? Don't look now, but that crazy boy is clowning trying to get your attention. Don't laugh or it'll only encourage him. He's sticking bread pieces in his nose and ears."
"Ok, but still, you just a little curious about ham?"
Her eyes go bigger, "I could do a good deed, that is stop you from sinning."
I hand her the ham. She winks, "thanks. He's sticking his drinking straw up his nose, pasted chewing gum on his forehead."
I shrug, "some real wierdos in the world."
She smiles wickedly, "but you know, the world is always perverse. Always, always come up with the unexpected. Now take yourself, with that irrevent attitude, probably grow up to join an ultra religious kibbutz in Israel. Me on the other hand, probably end up a big sinner."
"Why do you suppose that is?"
"How is it we mature? Become real people? By a process of rebellion. Without that, we'd all end up little kids walking around in size adult bodies."
I realize what I must say, if I want to achieve any progress, "I see, well don't tell anyone this, but I'm just a little curious myself. Can you recommend a good author, I mean, Jewish kids' books?"
She seems unsurprised, "I knew you'd ask, sooner or later. Let's go to the school library, once we're done here. Best to start with Judy Blume."
"Thank you, it'd be nice to pick up a couple."
"Hey, what are friends for? Your secret is safe with me. Don't look now, he's balancing his empty pop can on his head."
We rise, dump our garbage, my eyes sliding by him. It takes a lotta self control not to burst out laughing. He's dangling one of his socks from each ear.
I whisper, "see that?"
"Ye-ah," same struggle for control.
As the lunchroom door slides behind us, we can't help it, laugh all the way to the library.
To my surprise there's over a dozen to choose from. Still, best stop at two, now anyhow, or she'll think I'm a fanatic.
After lunch, as teacher drones on about some math nonsense I could do comatose, I have time to ponder.
Yes, things went very well. Anything a bit odd I ask, she'll attribute to neophyte status, as opposed to suspecting I'm an Alien.
I make a mental note, only read half of one this evening. Don't want her thinking I'm going nuts on this.

Anita 4

2007-04-05T10:31:00.000-07:00

As we arrive at school, a boy approaches, sticks out his tongue, "goody goody suck! Only 6! Trying to make us all look bad! I had 22, everyone else at least a dozen. You're dis-gusting."
I don't hesitate, deal with it exactly like back home, time my lunge perfectly. Even before we hit ground, I'm already working over his ribs and stomach. Knowing Earthling social mores, I prefer not to redecorate the face.
Dozens of eager voices, both boys and girls, cheer me on. Then a rough hand on my shoulder, Lily's voice, "enough moron, teacher incoming at six o'clock."
By the time teacher has pushed through the reluctant crowd, I'm merely sitting on him, giving an inscrutable smile.
She asks the obvious, "what's happening?"
Obviously, he prefers not to admit he was beat. Tone of disgust, "hormones, couldn't stop kissing me. Yuck, probably need rabies shots now."
Everyone laughs.
Teacher asks, "Anita, am I permitted to give personal advice? That is, woman to woman, as opposed to teacher to pupil?"
"Certainly."
"When you get home tonight, tell your mother you need an eye examination."
Everyone laughs harder.
As the crowd drifts away, Lily says, in disgust, "idiot! He just ain't gonna stop following you around now."
"You mean ah?"
"Yes moron, it's called infatuation."
The boy puts just enough building corner between him and teacher, then moons me.
My first impulse is to resume thumping him. Seeing Lily's suspicious eye on me, I opt for more Earthling-like behavior, "shift position, let's test out his geometry skills."
We keep moving a bit and he keeps taking the bait. On the fourth mooning, he's caught in flagrantis, given detention.
I see Lily's look of pure relief, "I was wondering about you, after that fever. See you're back to yourself now."
As the bell rings, we file in, me hugely relieved to discover he's not in our class.
Teacher has a sadistic smile, "we have decided, in order to remove you from any and all temptation, you don't choose your own books any more. We do, keep a list, no swapping."
I sense 30 inward groans.
"One thought to bear in mind. Let's say you be a dishwasher when you grow up; the world does not really expect a lot. Any responsible position, requires cultural knowledge, not just skills. So, show of hands, who wants to be a dishwasher?"
None.
Thin smile, "I rest my case. All of you will benefit by doing the reading for real."

Anita 3

2007-04-05T08:04:00.000-07:00

What happens next causes me to even doubt my own sanity. See on our planet we are 100% Atheist, which explains why so many flop miserably on that religion term paper in Earthlingology 101. We are taught death is the complete end of everything, including all brainwave activity, and hence dreams too.
So when in a state of death, to dream of being an Earthling, is a bit wierd. Switching back to reason, I tell myself maybe the medics arrived in time to staunch blood flow. Again, not rational to believe that.
Those escalators are building wide, some 300 rioters and 200 cops were involved. So, 500 people, all toting clips of 500 rounds. Do the geometry, with 250,000 rounds bouncing off concrete walls, statistically you'd be dead a dozen times over.
So, how is it I hear a panicky voice, "over here Sarge, bring the coagulant, got a maybe."?
I feel pressure of hands on my chest.
Older voice, cursing methodically, "well **** this noise. Body's ****ing rejecting the ****ing coagulant."
Younger voice again, "try another shot."
"Ok sunshine, higher ****ing dose, see if it ****ing works. Ain't nobody else ****ing left alive, and that's ****ing rioters and ****ing cops included. Pull this one through, chances are we get a ****ing medal."
As their voices fade, I realize I didn't make it.
Again, not logical. So how is it I feel stiff and sore from lying down forever? The dead should not feel that, right?
And so, I open my eyes just to check. Now this room has a definite Earthling look to it. I'm guessing a young girl Earthling, an adult would barf seeing this mess.
I see the reflection in the mirror. No, definitely not. See we're all purple. You start life a light lilac pastel, darken as you age; faster if working outdoors, slower if inside. No racial problems, we're all the same color.
And yet this ridiculous figure seems to follow my movements. Earthlings would class this person as 'white', but it ain't true, it's more pink.
And on the bedside table, a hand drawn getwell card, with stylized flowers and handwriting which screams out immature Earthling hand. Curiously, I can read it, "Anita, please get well in a hurry. School is a total drag without you, Lily."
Just a minute now, what are odds of that, same name? I pick up a textbook, open it. The form pasted therein proclaims that the Greater Victoria School District has loaned this to Anita Zilberg.
Freaky or what? Same as my surname.
Gradually though I start to see Earthling logic in it all, being considerably less ethnocentric than most of my people.
We are Atheists, translation there is no god or gods who looks after us.
But assuming this Earthling belongs to one of their superstitions, the god or gods involved have a proprietorial sense, look after their own, at least some.
So, possible this one died through fever. As mercy to the family of this one, the Earthling god or gods simply stuck me into the body.
I find myself wanting to meet this Lily. Something in the handwriting proclaims her to be a warm person. But definitely not now, too tired, lay down again.
As I awake I feel better, clear headed. An older woman (mother?) shows, brings water, then some light food.
Finally Lily is permitted in, but only for a few minutes, I must rest.
As mother (?) leaves, Lily says quietly, "wierd dreams huh?"
"Yeah, understatement of the year."
"I sat with you a bit. Wondered where you got all that crap. No metro here, much less metro stations with escalators hundreds of feet wide. No riot cops here, much less ones toting Schmeissers. No rioters either, much less those with AK47s." Suspicious look, "I've got it. You're a fraud, a liar. Tell me you don't read sci fi, when secretly you do."
I protest mildly, "certainly not."
She opens all my dresser drawers, "nope, none in here, musta already returned it to the library."
Inspiration strikes, "Lily, what is my reputation at school?"
She blushes, "sorry Anita. Yes I know you 'borrowed' some of my older sister's book reports."
"So we can still be friends Lily?"
Easy laugh, "heavens yes. Now I know you're not guilty."
"So what's happening at school."
"I'm in deep sh**. Been cruising so long watching your math book I look really dumb now. Oh well, your Mum says you'll be ready for Monday."
And then Lily is chased away. As I lay back, I find myself liking her, she'll be a great friend over time.
Mum re-enters, grim look, "no easy way to say this, but it hasta be said before Monday. For several years now, teachers at James Bay Elementary have been scanning book reports into computer memory."
I groan inwardly.
"When they ran the matching program, it caught you with six. So what do you say about that?"
"Ah well that is ah well, I won't do it again."
"And to help you remember your promise not to re-sin, no allowance for a month. Here on in, any book reports, show me before you hand them in."
I nod.
She leaves. Oy! Still, give the devil her due. On my planet it woulda been lots bigger ructions than that for that same sin. So, least we know she's a merciful person. Maybe she'll be ok.
Lily drops by Monday morning to get me. Once we're out the door, I ask, "ah Lily, ever hear of the matching program on book reports? Nailed me with six."
Laugh, "go on, what a wimp you are! Nailed me with 15."
I gasp.
She punches my arm, lightly in fun, "so lemme guess, allowance is kaput for a month?"
"How'd you know?"
"Math, mine is down the toilet for three months."
Somehow it seems wildly hilarious and we laugh all the way to school.

Anita 2

2007-04-04T10:23:00.000-07:00

A few days later, I'm sitting in SUB, trying to wrap my head around one of the cases for Accounting class.
Stanley, who I recognize from the Geology Dignity demo, approaches. Polite tone, "mind if I join you?"
I smile wanly, "I so lack talent dealing with debit and credit; yet it's a required course. Yes, I'd welcome a break."
We small talk on doings in Geology. After a bit, he says, "I recall you were mentioning thinking of moonlighting."
"Do you know of anything?"
"My aunt called me yesterday, she owns the Caffeine Cave. Asked if I knew anyone looking, she needs average of three evenings a week." Sees my confused look, "that is in the gayborhood, is that a problem to you?"
I shrug, "no of course not, I'm not prejudiced like lots. And I do hear there is less crime there."
Bright smile, I'm guessing he's a real gay, picks up his cell, "I'd be happy to phone her right now, arrange a time for interview, if you like."
"Thank you so much, that's kind. Textbooks ended up costing more than anticipated."
And so, after class I ride the metro from university station to downtown, then transfer onto the line heading to the gayborhood.
I've just disembarked at my correct stop, head to the escalator, when I spot a commotion on the down escalator. Rioters toting homemade weaponry are being pursued by riot cops toting factory made.
To tell the truth, I don't even know who fired first, but that's irrelevent. The concrete walls give lots of ricochet.
My last thoughts, as I feel and see green blood gushing all over me, are how careless I really am. A more astute person would read the student paper all the time, know when to avoid this neighborhood. I idly wonder how many of the survivors will find themselves expelled from uni.

Anita 1

2007-04-04T08:03:00.000-07:00

"Wait up Anita."
I turn, see Karen, a friend of my older sister. "So, where you headed?"
"SUB (Student Union Building), got an hour between classes, do work while I coffee."
"So Anita, how's that Earthlingology 101 going?"
I grin, "they are sooo nuts."
"So, what did you pick for that term paper?"
I laugh, "took your advice of course. You said he'd spring that silly religion topic. Imagine those crazy superstitious Earthlings! Picked Gur Hasidic Jews in Jerusalem."
Huge smirk, "excellent, I recall telling you I did Doukhobors. Anyone dumb enough to pick a mainline topic, bores him and gets graded down. He gives higher grades for novelty value."
"You going to SUB, Karen?"
"No, turning here, have fun."
As I pay for coffee at the counter, the robot says, "have a good day."
"Actually I have other plans."
Robot laughs, programmed to do so at student jokes.
Picking a vacant table, I spread out a supply of index cards. Each bears a mini topic and I'm trying to arrange the best order to give it flow.
Debbie, from high school days, sits uninvited, leads with, "so, going to the big demonstration this evening?"
"Which one?"
Scornful tone, "oh grow up, the only one that counts, the gay bathhouse."
I know better than to argue with a political zealot, so I smile wanly, "truth is, I'm a little behind in my course work." (Lie: things are going great.)
"What a self-important, self-righteous, selfish pig you are! Can't spare one hour of that precious time for a life and death cause?"
"What is life and death about gaydom, been around for centuries?"
She rolls her eyes, groans aloud, "ok smart ass, tell me, exactly how often do you get laid?"
I blush, "ah well between all the homework they give in Math and Physics and Geology and those business cases in Accounting and this term paper; I ah well that is haven't fit in the time yet."
Her voice rises in volume and pitch, "do you know what those creeps are doing? Pretending to be gay, registering as so, attending the bathhouse once a week to get their cards stamped. And why? So they don't have to bother getting a registered girlfriend."
"You've lost me. I heard men were horn dogs. Why would they do that?"
She stares at me in a sense of surreal disbelief, "so smart ass, musta slept through Sex Ed in high school?"
"Well ah actually not, parents signed the form exempting me."
She groans aloud, "I'm wasting my time on morons like you," gets up and leaves.
Idly I wonder what that was all about, return to work. Soon, I'm done, pleased with how it fits together.
I still have 15 minutes til next class, so I grab the student paper.
And there it is, the headline item. Scientists who claim to have measured the pleasure centers in the brain, electric flow that is, assert that men have five times the electric flow dealing with inflatable dolls than in real sex.
And that's why they feign gaydom. Get that exemption from needing to find a registered girlfriend or, failing that, enrolling in speed dating.
So ah, what do they do in the bathhouse? According to reliable sources (?), only about 1/10 of the men attending are real gays. The rest goof around, read, play computer games til the time is up, get that card punched and vamoose.
Oh yes, these demonstrators plan on sending two loud and clear messages to Parliament. Video cameras must be installed, to sort out the fake from real. And here on in, bathhouses are only open to "genuine" gays.
I shrug, seems so completely far fetched. Yet maybe true, not a lot of girls seem to have boyfriends.
In the end, I opt to attend the Geology Dignity demo. Clearly they are in the right, Geology is short changed in lab facilities, compared to others.
It's a half dozen guys, with nary a cop or student reporter in sight. They're ecstatic to see a first year out there supporting them. The time passes pleasantly as they give me advice on upper year Profs and optional courses.
Next issue of the student paper has 12 pages of coverage of the big bathhouse demo, the thousands of demonstrators, all women. Grim looking siege lines of riot cops, all women also, in formation behind shields.
I shudder, realizing from looking at photos, any tiny spark could have set off something.

Nava 7

2007-03-22T10:19:00.000-07:00

The dreaded Sabbath approaches. Now I sort of suspect Mum is at least partly suspicious that yes I eat some stuff at Naomi's. However on the Sabbath, this is outa the question, I am forbidden to set foot in that treyf house.
Naomi's parents don't allow her out, she's expected to hang around and be company for visitors.
How on earth am I gonna pass all that time with Mum? Can't possibly talk with her or she'll catch wise there's stuff I don't know that I should.
However my fears prove groundless. She talks on the phone a lot, (forbidden on Sabbath), and reads the paper.
Sunday morning, when all is quiet and most of the world is still sleeping in, Naomi and walk out onto the Ogden Point Breakwater.
Weather is pleasant, we chat, stare out at the ocean.
"You know Naomi," I say cheerfully, "I don't like your idea of moving to another city to be secular. Surely here is big enough to be so and it's a nice place."
Rueful smile, "you hit on the weak nerve in my theory. Cost of living over in Vancouver is atrocious."
Then I recall her argument, "and since Judaism is two-speed anyhow, means you'll have lots of company, anyone less prosperous, me for example."
"Ah, so you are sort of hoping to stay in Victoria?"
"Absolutely, love it."
"Funny one you are. I halfway thought you'd want to go to England or Ireland on some excuse."
"Nah, past history. Not a thing on earth I can do about all that stuff. Eamon is dead, meaning the farm gets inherited by someone else. Nava is who I am, whether I choose to like that or not."
She looks out to sea a long moment, then turns to me, "cool, if you stay in Victoria, then I will too. Also, let's stay friends regardless if we come out different sides of the secular-religious thing. Deal?"
Without hesitation, I reply, "deal."
She grins, "come for lunch, she won't mind, it's not the Sabbath."
On the way we trip over Rick sitting on the steps of his townhouse condo. Now that he doesn't hafta look over his shoulder afraid of his buddies, we have a pleasant chat.
(end of novella)

Nava 6

2007-03-22T08:03:00.000-07:00

As teacher drones on about some triviality, my mind spins. As of the point you join the British Army, you are simply an Irishman in a Brit suit. Once you first come under fire for real, you become two people. You're still an Irishman, don't lose that. But now you've graduated, become a real Brit, in the eyes of yourself and your comrades.
Is the same mechanism at work here? Does fighting about Judaism make you more of a Jew? At this point, it would be hard to argue that I even qualify, yet look at my reaction to Naomi, when I felt she was committing sacrilege.
Then I realize, whatever Naomi says may be unimportant to me, but vitally so to her. After all, how do you become a boxer if you can't find a sparring partner? Do not two Jews learn Torah better by arguing it after reading? How good a soldier would you be, if your training had not included live fire exercises?
So, without me, or to be more accurate someone like me, Naomi doesn't have a chance to mature. I have a responsiblity to her, to provide approximately equal opposition and forego using the big guns of adulthood in argument.
Recess time, Naomi flashes a wicked smile, "Sarge, you're smart, but nowhere near as well-informed as you'd like to believe."
Obvious she's trying to provoke me, I just grin, "how so?"
"Your argument has one fatal flaw, that is two-speed Judaism. For the very well to do, the full meal deal, hang out with others of their kind, without having to put up with tiresome riffraff. And yet, as you so capably point out, there exists the need for a periodic email blitz. That's where that big data base comes from, can be relied to write to their MP."
I grin, "did anyone ever tell you you're supposed to make it last? No point leading with the nukes. Could have danced me in a merry circle, then KO'd me? Have you no sense of fun? Of sadism?"
By now, we're both laughing.
She says, "to paraphrase you, you are now surrendering?"
I nod.
"For my next argument," she grins, "I will prove to you how sexist Judaism really is."
"I see and who among the religions is fit to cast that first stone? Certainly not Muslims, they're even worse. Most of the Christian denominations are pretty bad. Hindus, Buddhists, join in enthusiastically on that. So, you name a good example."
"Caught you again, oh yes, I did. I attack Judaism, you defend, knee jerk reaction. Gotta grow up Nava, look at facts."
I counterattack, "Ok then, let's look at Muslims and Christians. One could argue that they have a lot less experience, less time to work out the kinks. Judaism on the other hand, has a lot more centuries, so is more to blame if it fails to deliver."
A look of pre-combat joy comes over her, "oh yeah, right on. So you can switch back and forth, and better than the original Nava did."
I nod.
"So then Nava, just who exactly are you to criticise Judaism? I have more seniority, therefore I have more right to criticize."
"Is that a fact now? Last I checked, Nava was two days older than Naomi? You aren't saying, you caught up? Even passed her?"
She concedes, "ok, that part is a bit confused. We won't use the argument of seniority on each other. Now back to the argument on sexism..."
Rick walks by, cheerful tone, "is that all you two do, argue with each other?"
I give a cheeky smile, "you should be happy we do."
Perplexed look, "why?"
"Well you see, everyone only has so much argument inside. More I use on her, less I'll have for you."
"You've lost me there."
"You know for a fact that's what boyfriends and girlfriends do. You'll see soon enough."
He blushes, retreats in disarray.
Naomi flashes a wicked smile, "there is a sadistic side to you. You probably scared him away from girls for the next ten years."
"Go on, more like a day."
"If he grows up to be gay, be all your fault oh yes oh yes."
As the bell rings to end recess, I realize, somehow or other, in this short time, Naomi and I have become better friends than any of my erstwhile Army buddies.
Rick still follows fairly close as we go in, so I'm guessing I didn't scare him off for a decade.
I give a wink, see the comprehension on his face. Now he knows I was just having fun, winks back.
On the way to her place, Naomi starts the argument as to whether manga comics are good or bad for the Jews. To me it seems almost pointless, unless an actual book has an anti-semitic theme, what difference does it make?
I start to suspect her secularism is partly for show and partly to help her make up her own mind. After all, if she had 100% decided, what need for any future argument?

Nava 5

2007-03-21T10:15:00.000-07:00

Eager to change the topic to save me embarrassment, Naomi says, "tell me, ever run into problems, an Irishman in the British Army?"
"Oh yeah, that's why you wear civvies going home on leave. Everyone and his dog says I shouldn't aid the Brits. I reply when the morons in Dublin create sufficient jobs in my area, I'll stop."
"That should shut them up."
"That and the para look that scared the bejaysus outa Rick."
She laughs, "I like you, good sense of humor. My question meant more with Brit colleagues."
"Truly the last of an Irishman's worries. Not enough Brits join, yet they don't wish to start a draft. Any Irishman who qualifies is more than welcome."
"Ever run into the Col Blimp sort of officer?"
"You watch too many movies. The few of them around surround themselves with Sgt's of similar personality. The vast majority, open to new ideas and information, seek similar Sgt's."
Comprehension washes over her, "ah ha, now I understand, suppose Col Blimp had gone through the window instead of you. I could find it much more difficult dealing with you."
I laugh, "understatement of the year."
"At first Nava, I stuck with you out of sense of duty. Gone way beyond that, now I see you as a real friend."
I'm touched, "why thank you. Tell me, your Mum pester you about going to Israel between high school and university?"
Dry look, "not! She says that's only for people looking for status."
"Ah ye-ah, mine sort of indicated that."
She leans forward, "your promise, what I tell you, you don't tell a soul?"
"You have my word."
"I let her rattle on about whatever. I either ignore it or vaguely agree or disagree, so guess my real plan."
"Come on, don't think you can snow a Sgt. Once you graduate, gonna leave town, claim there are no 'real' jobs in a city this size. Once you get wherever, be totally secular."
Crestfallen look, "I really give away that many clues?"
I nod.
"I wonder, if my Mum can pick up the clues as easy?"
"Rather doubt it. Anything, dope, vandalism, sex, parents are always dead last to know."
She nods, "yeah, from what I hear. Your Mum made noise about summer camp?"
My heart flip flops. The thought of being incarcerated with all those tedious
"Not to worry," she continues, "too late this year anyhow. I'm guessing your Mum didn't have sufficient money, else she'd be pushing it."
I breathe a silent sigh of relief.
Wildly wicked grin, "you'll never guess how I dodged it?"
"I give up."
"Told her, as a Jew, I find the words 'camp' and 'camping' totally repulsive."
"Ah the historical allusion, how'd she take that?"
"I detect a note of judgmentalism there Nava."
"I'm sorry."
"How else can she take it? She uses it on me, surely I'll use it back."
"I see, so I should keep that line as an absolute last resort."
"Nava, don't worry none. See years ago, was so cheap, everyone who had parents above the rank of dishwasher had to face the bogeyman sooner or later. Now, become so expensive, most of the middle class can't afford."
It dawns on me, "isn't that a contradiction in terms? I've heard there's a strong percentage correlation between attending a Jewish summer camp and behavior later in life. Such as how observant, even basics like how many marry out."
"So, to sum up Nava, it's like drilling a hole in the bottom of their own ship."
"Naomi, did you realize you used 'their'? More careful talk would be 'our'. Between you and me, I couldn't care less, we're friends. But think of your Mum picking up clues."
Blush, "point well taken, thanks Nava. And now I fire the torpedo into your ridiculous argument. You haven't twigged on yet, all they really want as members is the very prosperous."
This shocks me, where on earth do ten year olds get that cynical? Three quarters of Brit Army Sgt's aren't that cynical. Uneasily I reply, "let's just say I will think on that more later."
"You do that Nava. Also give some thought to whether you should use 'their' or 'our."
"Still Naomi I find it curious. Now take the super rich, that cuts a lot of ice on things like donations to projects in Israel or reroofing of the synagogue. Some things you need numbers for. Take politics for example, stuff in the Parliament or Legislature. What counts there is how many voting age supporters you can point to. And I understand Muslims aren't into alienating their less prosperous members."
"I caught you, admitting you're a Jew after all, arguing on their side."
"Hey wait a minute. Am I not allowed to speak in the sense of a reporter? Of a neutral observer? Just because I say politics exists, doesn't mean I've picked sides, or will."
The bell rings. Naomi grins, "this is fabulous, much better than the original Nava. Resume our duel at recess?"
"You're on."

Nava 4

2007-03-21T08:04:00.000-07:00

Next morning as Naomi and I walk to school, I tell her of room cleaning.
She looks uneasy, "ah, let's hope your Mum doesn't tell mine. You know how my room is."
As it turns out, Naomi need not have worried. Given that both women see themselves as so superior to the other, not a lot of communication happens.
Rick intercepts us as we arrive, shy tone, "so, how'd you like it, with me in goal?"
"That one shot," I reply, "I was positive it was a goal. Yet you stopped it, good for you."
He beams, then seeing buddies arrive, rushes off to join them.
After school I raise an eyebrow, "cherry cheesecake? Isn't that pushing it?"
Smirk, "we're Jews, allowed to get a bit fat."
Just a minute now, this is the same person who yesterday said, "don't get all Jewish on me."
What of the apparent contradiction? Ambivalence, sometimes she is, sometimes not, does everyone experience that?
"You feeling ok Nava?"
"Oh yeah sure."
"Look, no big deal, I'll give you half the size, half the calories too."
Mum has an unusual expression, proclaiming a mayhem topic incoming.
"So dear," she says, "tell me, have you give any thought to the year between high school and university?"
Now I ain't gonna touch that with the proverbial ten foot pole.
"More specifically, have you thought of spending it in Israel?"
I believe I'd prefer root canal, however can't tell her that, "so what are the pros and cons?"
"The cons, as you put it, are fairly limited. Main one is just slowing down whatever you choose to study by a year. Also the side effect of tending to lose some secular friends over it. You won't lose religious friends over it. The pros, mature some, make a wiser choice of what to study, plus whatever religious merit, and status."
I raise an eyebrow.
"But of course, I mean, wouldn't you want to marry a more serious type of person? Meet higher status of people after that."
I stare off into space in sheer disbelief, I believe I'd rather be stranded on the tundra of the Ungava Peninsula during the dead of winter or washed away by a tsunami or trek to the source of the Nile with Donald Duck in charge of the expedition.
Why me? What on earth did I ever do to deserve this? So I counterattack, "I have a burning desire to be a stock broker. Meaning a year will cost me $490,000."
She gasps, "come on, surely not the first year, that's more like the tenth."
"But then," I clarify, "it'd cost me say $250,000 and those nominds in Ottawa $240,000. Surely they'd just blow it on sheer frivolity anyhow."
By now she's laughing. I reflect this is not the first time in history an officer has been diverted from a serious action by a joke.
I open my lunch. Naomi rolls her eyes, "is she a bore or what? My Mum says kosher is no excuse for boring."
I shrug, "weren't you the one who told me I had remarkable luck of the draw? Right now I could be sitting in Bangladesh, eating nothing but rice."
She laughs, "I like you, exactly like two Jews to argue. Gather two together, you get three opinions."
I laugh.
"Still," she says, "I imagine it beats British Army chow."
"Yes and no. Her food, supper and lunches, beats a forward operating base. Resta the time, a real base, got her beat, and by a long shot."
She flashes a wicked smile, "would she be ticked to hear that!"
I shrug, "last I recall, you and I are friends. Friends don't engage in blackmail."
Laugh, "I didn't mean that, just if she overhead you."
I blush hotly, "hey look, I'm sorry."

Nava 3

2007-03-20T10:20:00.000-07:00

Naomi and I sit together at lunch.
She grins, "I don't believe it, caught you paying attention."
"Well, always admired the Trudeau era. Met various Canadian chaps out on tour, they got me interested, read up on it some."
She gasps, "soldiers talk of Trudeau and history?"
"It isn't all booze and racetrack."
She blushes, "sorry, guess that came out wrong."
Eager to let her off the hook, I change the topic, "so what do you make of Rick?"
"I was watching, while you're reading. Now that he sees the more confident reader, if anything, he likes you more."
"So what happens next?"
"Not a lot, he's still too young and shy to ever proclaim he's your boyfriend. But, he will chat about school a lot."
"Suits me fine, more I learn, easier to fit."
He sits at a table at a distance, chatting with his friends, but still surreptiously glancing in my direction.
Naomi drops her voice, "so what unit were you in?"
"Mosta the time 1 Para; that's First Battalion, Parachute Regiment."
"Where all did you tour?"
"Ulster, Cyprus, Iraq, Belize, Chad, Germany, Sudan, Guyana, Bosnia, Afghanistan, New Guinea and a survival course in your very own High Arctic."
"Where?"
"North of Eureka, that's the weather station at 80 degrees latitude."
Loud gasp, then a chuckle, "so if Fate had dropped you in Saskatchewan, it wouldn't be the end of your world?"
"Still, I do like Victoria."
"After all that, doesn't it seem a let down, listening to tedious teacherdom?"
I realize I'm on the edge of crying. That's something I just don't do. So I say, "them's the breaks."
She must sense I'd prefer a changed topic, so, "since neither you nor I do much homework, after school, my place, we'll watch TV."
"Cool, I'd like that."
"In a way, glad you came along. The original Nava was getting so totally boring, always watching the same stuff. Now's a chance to switch around a bit, you'll like that?"
It's a good act, but not good enough. Obvious it's the other way around. So I just smile easily, "I'm open to experimenting, I'd like to watch the stuff you like."
Hopeful tone, "you mean that?"
"Why not? Anything I learn at this point will be helpful."
"Well, in that case, I know some fun cartoons, based on Japanese manga. Neat soap opera, you'll get to like the characters."
It is the honest truth that I like manga, having read it in comic book form a lot. When I tell her this, her relief is palpable.
Rick succeeds in passing our table on his way out, "we're playing soccer at afternoon recess. Can you come watch?"
I smile, "sure, sounds like fun."
He seems relieved, then moves along quickly, lest his buddies think he's fraternising with the enemy.
The instant we arrive at Naomi's we fire up the TV, cartoons will start in about 3 minutes.
She flashes a wicked grin, "come on, let's check the fridge, think there's leftover chocolate cake."
"I don't know. This morning before you arrived, Mum warned me not to eat anything here, said it's treyf."
She laughs, "don't get all Jewish on me. The original Nava never bothered to obey. Rinse your mouth after, I'll even use a toothpick on you, just in case she gets suspicious."
"But aren't I supposed to keep a slender figure for Rick?"
Groan, "oh grow up, gonna be several years yet before he publicly proclaims himself to be your boyfriend. Meantime enjoy."
As we settle in with cake and lemonade, she grins, "wanna know what's so funny? My Mum says the very same about your house, treyf, don't eat there."
We both laugh.
As it turns out her soap of choice is Coronation Street. I'm ecstatic discovering this, as it was my favorite TV show in the Army.
Yes I reflect, my first school day went remarkably well.
Sitting with Mum at supper, she asks, "how was school today?"
"Fine."
"And how's Naomi?"
"Fine."
"Got any homework?"
"Done."
"Feeling ok after the fever?"
"Fine."
Long pause, "Nava, are you avoiding me?"
"No."
"You usually talk more."
I could say I don't feel well, but that would only delay the inevitable. Besides, what can I say without arousing her suspicion? So I counterattack, casual tone, "that's for little kids."
By the look on her face, I scored a direct hit. Here on in, any uncommunicativeness will be seen as the budding diva, the kid growing up.
Give her credit, she comes up swinging fast, "right, since you're not a little kid, time to take more responsibility. Clean up that room."
Cheerfully, I reply, "sure Mum, right after supper."
She feels my forehead, then shakes her head.
Truth is, I'm glad she ordered it. It is a tip, however I was afraid of making any changes.
She enters just as I'm finishing up. Her look, definitely traumatized. This is clearly beyond what she expected, even in her wildest dreams.

Nava 2 novella of 2 schoolfriends

2007-03-20T08:04:00.000-07:00

Next morning, Naomi shows to walk with me to school.
"Very nice scenery," I remark, "makes me think of England or Ireland."
"In many ways, you got the Cadillac. Victoria is the nicest climate in Canada, some cities experience minus 40 degrees. Safe neighborhood, well-to-do, not some blighted inner city. A Mum who is mostly ok, if a bit pushy. But I'm betting none of that stuff even registers with you, not at all. Still hung up on not being a guy anymore, right?"
"Ye-es."
"Friend, stop and think of how you really lucked out, even there. We're ten, gives us several years to figger it out, that's you and me both. Now, just imagine, right now, you were 16."
I groan aloud.
She smiles, "see, learning already."
"Truth is Naomi, I hated school first time around; can't even imagine seeing it again."
"Again, think of this, since school takes little or no effort, gives you time to do more important stuff, like figger out life."
As we arrive at the schoolground, a boy comes over. Sticks out his tongue, then, "ugly ugly ugly."
I grab his collar. My faces inches from his, I give him my best hate stare. "Sunshine you got five seconds to apologize, else I stick your schoolbag where the sun don't shine."
He apologizes profusely, then I let him go.
As he runs off, I laugh, tell Naomi, "that's how you handle it."
Sad smile, "fraid you and I are gonna hafta have a talk. Don't you realize, he likes you? Uh make that past tense, used to. Just too shy to come out and say."
I gasp, "Surely you're joking?"
"No, in fact he was the only one in school who did. But cheer up, maybe find someone when you get to junior high."
Naomi and I take our seats, side by side. My attention is caught by a tourist map of Belize on the wall. I imagine the teacher saw a different part of Belize than I did.
I'm brought back to the here and now by Naomi's light kick on my leg.
Teacher says, "come on now Nava, don't be shy. We all have to take a turn. Come up front."
I do.
She hands me a children's fiction book, points, "from here to there."
It's a very ordinary story, I have no idea how anyone is reacting as my eyes are on the text.
As I finish, look up, I'm surprised to see looks of absolute awe painted on all except Naomi.
Teacher says quietly, "very good Nava, you must have been practising."
I nod.
Kind smile, "big improvement. From here on, you get a turn every week, don't want you to lose that touch."
I sit.
"And now class, let's do math."
Everyone except me groans. Naomi's kick clues me in and I join in.
At recess time, Rick, the same boy, comes up to Naomi and me. Very awkward smile, "hey look Nava, I'm real sorry."
Ever helpful Naomi jumps in, "oh yes, Rick, Nava and I were talking. You see she's not herself, was sick all holiday. She wants to apologize too."
I catch her drift, smile, "Rick, I'm so sorry I came on like a storm trooper. You see, my Mum gave me heck and that was on my mind. I know you were only playing around."
Look of relief, "and is that teacher ever a bore in math!"
In no time, we're talking ok.
The bell rings, we start inside, him following me closely.
Teacher starts in on history, the era of Pierre Trudeau and its lasting impact, even to the present.
And gradually, I start to realize something. I am the recipient of great good fortune getting this gig. Gives me all the time in the world to figger stuff out. Just imagine I were, right now, a thirty year old employee of External Affairs. The world would be expecting a lot more outa me; maybe more than this imposter could provide.

Nava 1

2007-03-19T08:03:00.000-07:00

Supper is boiled bacon and potatoes, and tea, cooked on my peat stove. After, a fast towel bath, with water heated on the same stove. A real bath will have to wait for Sunday Mass, just too much water to heat all the time.
Then I put on clean clothes and head for the local. Very end of the bar are two empty stools.
Bartender greets me, "Evening Eamon."
"Evening Padraig."
"Usual?" (he means a half pint of Guinness)
I nod.
As he pours, he asks, "so how's haying going?"
"Great, third crop this year. Just two more days and it should be dry enough to start cutting again."
He grins, "well, that's more time to cut peat. Reckon one can never have too much of that."
I nod, how true!
Most of the bar and one nearby table is taken up with the fraternity of ex-construction workers in Blighty, mostly London. Their stories get tedious, endless drinking and thumping "nancy boys".
I take out my ten pack of cigs, fire up one. Now anywhere east of the Shannon River that would be an act inviting the attention of the "Gestapo". Here we got our own ways. Tedious laws like bar closing hours tend to be honored in the breach, not in the observance.
A nearby table produces an interesting conversation to follow. And they are talking loud enough it ain't eavesdropping. Two lads from here, members of the British Army, home on leave, chatting with pals. Topic is the recent Cyprus tour of the First Battalion, Royal Greenjackets. It comes as no surprise that their tales of mayhem contrast sharply with the official UN line that all is well there.
Johnny, the local bootlegger, enters, sits near to me.
Bartender asks, "usual?"
Johnny nods. A pint of Guinness and glass of whisky are prepared.
Johnny grins, "so Eamon, how's haying? Like a change of scenery?"
"Be another two days before I can get back at it, been cutting peat. What you got in mind?"
Lowers his voice, "going to Ennis for a pickup."
"Thought it was Galway?"
Laugh, "cops are getting to know me and my car too well there. Arranged to pick up in Ennis this time. Come for the ride, we can play the horses together."
"How long you gone?"
"Two days."
I do the math. The max I can sink into this venture is 100 Euros. So, two nights in B&B, some food and at least a bit of drink. Leaves zilch to bet with. Pointless to go.
I blush, "Sorry Johnny, hafta pass, financial constraints."
"Go on, I didn't say we pay accommodation, it'll only be food. My uncle has a flat there, away on a short trip. I have permission."
I redo the math, decide with a bit of luck, I'll have a capital of 50 to bet with. Yeah, I can make that last two days. I grin, "let's do it then." After all, I don't own livestock, the hay I cut is for sale.
Waves his hand expansively, "gonna have one more round for the road, then we'll go. Want me to go to your farm, pick up gear?"
"Don't bother, if I buy a toothbrush and ten pack, I'm ok."
Well, four rounds later, in a hilarious mood, we part, after dark. We drive cross The Burren, a backroad no cop on earth would waste his time on. By the light of the quarter moon it seems eirie. Like we're the only two people on the lunar surface.
A loud explosion and sudden veering of the car tells me a tire has blown. It all seems to be in slow motion. In a perfectly calm tone, I say, "Johnny, suppose it might be wise to steer around that telephone pole?"
"Did anyone ever tell you boyo, when a car is airborne, it don't answer to its steering wheel?"
And so it is, we are both roaring with laughter when the car collides directly. Now one of those tedious laws we ignore in these parts is seat belt. In this case, it might have been wise to obey it. As in, I'm going through the windscreeen.

I wake with a throbbing headache. Not ready to open my eyes and deal with the world yet, I ponder. Go on, only had four. How would I have a headache? Right, the window.
Finally I decide that, if I really did go through it, then I feel remarkably good.
I open my eyes and discover myself to be in a bedroom done up schoolgirl fashion.
A face I don't recognize, but bearing a look of desperation, says, "Nava, talk to me, say something, anything."
Truth is, I don't know what to tell her.
She holds up one finger asks, "how many fingers?"
"One."
"And now?"
"Two."
She feels my forehead, "ok now, tell me your name."
"Eamon O'Riley."
She groans, "still a fever. Best to stay in bed. I imagine you picked up that name off the TV movie, it stuck with you. Just rest."
I hear footsteps, the closing of a door, the ringing of a portable or cellular.
Obviously unaware I can hear, she says, "well, good news and bad. Good is, least she woke up. Bad is, still a fever."
Pause as the other speaks.
"Oh yeah, you got that right, Delirious with a capital D. Strange stuff beyond belief. Endless comments on 15 years of various tours in the British Army. Places I'd find hard to find on a map, wonder how she did. And in language that would make a sailor blush. Horse race bets, hookers, drinking binges. Farming in Ireland. Some kind of road accident."
Pause.
The she laughs in a wicked tone, "and is she going to be ticked when she discovers the fever burnt up her whole Easter vacation, back to school with nary a break."
I groan inwardly. Go on, only one sensible course of action. This is a nightmare, it will pass, let it do so.
However, when I next awake the nightmare is still present. Climbing outa bed, I stare at the dresser mirror. Surely not!
And yet, the image in the mirror flawlessly executes every move I do.
She enters carrying a tray, "heard you up. You look much better, try and eat a bit."
As I do, she asks, with deadpan face, "remember anything of the dreams?"
Deciding ignorance is the best strategy, "no."
"Amazing, absolutely amazing. Now all along I believed you had no talent for history or geography stuff at school. And yet, I've looked up every time and place you mentioned. All is accurate, in clinical detail and then some."
I nod.
"And so, now I know this, I expect better marks in future. And all that horse race talk, I learned something else. You know much more math than you've been letting on."
Oh no.
"Sandbagging, that's what you've been doing. Let me assure you, as of school starting tomorrow, I expect real effort, real marks."
Jaysusmaryandjoseph, does it get worse? That's when I spot the Star of David on her necklace and realize it could get lots worse.
The doorbell rings and she leaves. A minute later, she calls, "it's Naomi dear, come on out."
Naomi and I are left alone in the living room as Mum(?) vanishes.
Quiet tone, Naomi says, "I don't see one ounce of recognition in those eyes. You don't even know who I am."
I give a goofy smile, "Naomi of course."
She grabs my collar, face inches from mine, quiet tone, "look moron, don't gimme that, you heard your Mum give the name. But still you don't recognize me. So, tell me the name of our school."
I squirm, realizing she has me pinned.
The very quietly, "I can see it in your eyes. She died and you ended up taking over. I would presume without your knowledge."
I nod.
"You have a hard look, totally different eyes. I'm guessing you've seen lotsa death."
I nod.
"Well friend, lemme tell you something. You don't get off easy, stuck with me. We're the only two Jews in James Bay Elementary and we da** well stick together."
I don't know whether this should make me relieved or upset.
"So tell me, how was it you died?"
"Sheer foolishness, ignoring seat belt laws."
Look of wicked glee, "after all and everything, that did you in?"
I nod.
"Nothing heroic, just that?"
Again I nod.
She shrugs, "well we're friends anyhow, detail can wait. I gather your Mum is right ticked with you, oh yes oh yes."
I blush, nod.
At that moment Mum emerges with a sadistic look and an obvious elementary math book.
Naomi turns to leave, I don't blame her for that.
"No, don't go," Mum says, "stay with us as we do some math."
It may look grim, but I've figured an angle. Blow about a fifth of the questions. It does the trick, turns that look of dead certitude into doubt.
After half an hour, Mum retreats in disarray and Naomi and I head outside for air.
She warmly wraps an arm round me, "work of art. If your Mum had figured, how long would it be before mine did?"
"You mean?"
"Bingo, you and I are guilty of the same sin, total laziness in school.
At that moment, I realize how lucky I am. Better a buddy and ally than not.
Her face takes a serious look, "you seem remarkably capable of outmaneuvering the enemy, where'd you learn?"
"British Army."
"Rank?"
"Sgt."
She grins, "cool, reckon you the equal or better than the original Nava in the game of dodging tedious teacherdom."
The word "tedious" touches me. Whenever I hear it, I know a kindred soul is likely nearby.
She grins, "just remember to do up seatbelts."
We both laugh.

Malka 2

2007-03-13T08:03:00.000-07:00

On the metro ride home, I end up sitting near to Karen's boyfriend #3. Absolutely no question, he looks at me with a palpable dislike. His expression conveys I am akin to something he'll hafta scrape off his shoe after a moment's carelessness.
Oh come on now, would such a man actually choose to pick up Karen in the first place? He certainly is good looking, must have at least some choice.
Gradually an explanation occurs to me. See I look Jewish, triggering his knee jerk reaction of hate stare.
I'll bet he hasn't figured out Karen is Jewish yet. Should be a lively conversation when that happens.
I've just put on my pyjamas when Karen calls. Seems she and #3 had a long heart to heart chat. I brace myself, surely this is it, the big discovery.
But oh no, their chat was on S&M (Sadism and Masochism).
I groan inwardly. Surely S&M fans are nuts; to do so with a Nazi would be more nuts yet.
Hoping a tremor doesn't appear in my voice, I ask over-casually, "so ah who does the S and who the M?"
"We're taking turns. See I've been looking for a guy for S&M forever. And he admits he likes life's extreme experiences."
I'll bet he does.
After we hang up, I stare out the window, lost in thought. Soon however my thoughts rally. Combining one coffee house conversation on the theory of S&M with a limited knowledge of fitness, I realize endorphins are involved.
The body's natural feel good drug. How you feel so good after a brisk walk in the fresh air. Runner's high. S&M is the same drug.
And since both will be feeling it, I'm guessing they're hooked on each other in no time. That is, if you assume they don't make the big discovery quickly.
Chortling with wicked glee at the sheer perversity of Fate, I turn out the light and go to bed.
With Karen I have a reliable but not infallible barometer.
See the only way I hear from her is if things are going badly, she's changing a direction or the odd occasion she feels guilty for ignoring me. I'm not allowed to call her as she has a busier life.
And so, if I hear absolutely nothing from her, that usually implies things are going quite well.
Down at the bathhouse, a huge punchup erupts, spilling out into the yard. Journalists being what they are, and it being a slow news day, there were a lot of photos.
And it turns out boyfriend #2 appears in almost a dozen of these.
The police decline to lay charges, as it was clearly a fight by consent and entirely on private property. The bathhouse suspends the lads for two weeks each and that's it.
But still, I really should have heard from Karen. Surely this would trigger at least some angst in her.
Boyfriend #1 calls me, asks to meet in a coffee house. Given he's such a harmless chap and it is a public place, I readily agree.
Grim look, he hands me an envelope, "can you keep this a week, then mail it? She's put my phone on ignore. I don't want her to read this til after I leave town."
"So why me?"
Blush, "my so called friends are all a bunch of practical jokers, wouldn't trust them, but I've met you know you're ok."
"Thanks."
"I just don't understand. Wasn't I a nice guy? We had such nice conversations. But I'm guessing she found someone else." Then he chuckles.
"What's funny?"
"Well maybe it's Fate. Just got an offer from the Army. If I join, guaranteed I get the electronics technician course."
"Cool, that's the Cadillac. So, to paraphrase, even if she did dump you, at least her timing was good."
We both laugh.
I mail it the exact day he requests. And still hear nothing back from Karen. Oh I realize she wouldn't know I mailed it.
But still, if departure of #1 caused any angst, for sure she'd ring.
Naomi thinks it's a huge hoot, how #2 was "outed" in the paper, asks how Karen took it.
I reply I never heard back.
She whistles softly, "ah ha, means only one thing, just totally tied up with some other dude."
The pun "tied up" tempts me to laugh, but I stop myself. I really don't feel like explaining how that's humorous.
Then finally, I spot Karen and #3 at a distance in a metro station. We-ell, at least that's proof one didn't kill the other. And they do seem rather an item.
But still, I find myself wondering if they made the big discovery yet.
Then I shrug, not caring whether anymore. Their business, not mine.
(end of short story)

Malka 1

2007-03-12T10:36:00.000-07:00

(short story chronicling an unequal friendship)
I arrive at five minutes to nine, five minutes early. At this hour, no one in line at the counter. I buy vanilla hazelnut coffee, choose a window table.
Idly I wonder how late Karen will be this time. Truth is, I'm getting a bit tired of the occasional Saturday mornings we do coffee.
My time doesn't go to waste. The free paper has a nice story on the Governor-General's trip; she is doing a good job of representing Canada. The student paper, always interesting, catch them before they join the world of corporate cookie cutter journalism.
As Karen arrives, stands in line at the counter, she's talking on her cell. With boyfriend #1 and not quietly.
She sits, nods to me, continues on with her risque conversation.
As she opens her laptop, (this is a wireless hotspot), she's oblivious to the dirty looks coming from the people at the next table.
No sooner does she hang up, than she's dialing the hairdresser, booking an appointment.
I see she's surfed onto Jerusalem Post website. Why exactly does she bother? She hates the journalists there. Why not surf onto Haaretz? At least she would be in the company of political sympathizers.
After calling the hairdresser, she immediately dials boyfriend #2. And no, this is no secret, they are aware of each other.
Still, has she ever thought: when you demand freedom for an open relationship with a man or men, you are implying permission for them to do the same.
Now boyfriend #1 tends to use this freedom in a fairly innocuous manner. I rather doubt that she's aware #2 uses his freedom to frequent gay bathhouses. And often.
Now if she does know, means she's more sophisticated than I give her credit for. If she doesn't know, guaranteed it won't be me telling her. Like kings and queens of old she believes in slaying the messenger when the news is bad.
Hanging up, she turns the laptop so I can see it clearly. Overearnest tone, "look at this, just how insulting can he get?"
I raise an eyebrow, "Karen this journalist stated one of the Haredi neighborhoods in Jerusalem 'resembles an East European shtetl, but with the presence of modern applicances'. How exactly is that insulting? They'd be ecstatic reading that, it's the exact look they aim for. And I know from seeing enough photos, it's true."
Smug superior tone, "as always Malka, you fail to read between the lines, get the true gist. He's saying they all can afford those appliances. Not true, only half can. So, you see, he's your typical capitalist pig, playing off the rich against the poor."
I know better than to argue when I hear that tone. The ringing of her cell saves me from needing a reply. This time, it's someone she knows from the political action committee. Meantime, she taps out a blistering feedback to the Post, shows it to me and sends.
After this call, probably half a minute interlude and boyfriend #1 calls. She should be happy, most women complain men won't call.
Sensing this conversation will last forever, I rise, wave goodbye.
She puts a hand over the phone long enough to say, "we have to do this again. Always fun talking with you."
As the door closes behind me, I ask myself, not for the first time, if it's time to increase my level of self-assertion. As always, I conclude doing so with Karen would be akin to using power of reason upon a charging rhino. Better to just step aside, let the rhino go where he's headed and get on with life.
With my shoulder bag of overnight gear slung, I transfer from metro to the short bus trip needed to arrive at the house of my older sister and brother-in-law. It seems a bit odd, this recent penchant for New Age encounter groups. Quite frankly, neither seems the type.
However, I don't mind babysitting my niece Naomi, age ten, so I never question this.
I arrive just before 11:00 that same Saturday morning. They're choking with impatience, charge out the door with their overnight bags. As I hear the tires squeal unnaturally loud, again my suspicion rises.
Naomi flashes a wicked smile, "what a bunch of flaming hypocrites! Do you actually believe the story of where they're going?"
My knowledge of children is quite limited, not having one. Still instinct says don't lie. Cheerfully, "actually not."
She gives a laugh, "so they didn't fool you either? They think I'm soooo stupid. Their swingers club rents a whole floor in a hotel. That's why they were in such a hurry; get those rooms noon Saturday to 11:00 am Sunday."
"Are you sure dear?"
Smirk, "they got in a right royal dustup last time. Seems Mum caught Dad swinging with a guy. They were yelling at each other so loud, hotel security came up. Said tone it down, people on the floor below are complaining."
I'm tempted to ask how she knows this; decide I really don't want to know that.
She pouts, "Aunt Malka, I've been thinking. Grownups are disgusting. Oh I don't mean you, I mean the rest of them. I'm not sure I even want to grow up."
I sense words just won't cut it; hug her tight. It does the trick, the warmth softens her tension.
After that, we play chess, her beating me honestly two games outa three.
We head to the kitchen to decide what to do about supper. As we start chipping vegetables, she winks, "that coffee friend of yours, Karen, she ever figger that boyfriend is a faggy fruitcake?"
Again I'm not sure I want to know the source of her info. Quietly reply, "my guess is no."
"You know Aunt Malka, trouble with you is you're a pushover, let people walk all over you. If I were you, I'd that Karen's laptop and bash her over the head with it. Only way you'll get her attention."
"That's assault dear. Gotta solve problems in non-violent fashion."
Grin, "oh I know that, just joking. So next time, just take out your palm pilot, right there in the coffee house and send her an email."
Brilliant, why didn't I think of that?
She wraps an arm around me, "with one hand, you tap out email. With the other, talk on your cell, say with me. Then you'd be just like her."
Perish the thought! Rude is rude, even if it's I doing it.
After supper Naomi and I watch TV. Let me rephrase that. TV is so unimportant to me that I don't own one. I merely keep her company, let her choose. I'm unworried what she might choose as brother-in-law asserts he's programmed it child safe.
First chance I've had to think since I got here. What I learned today displeases me. It is, after all, a hypocritical example to set for your child.
Still, I always stop, take a breath, and view it as the devil's advocate. Suppose things are far enough gone between them that this monthly getaway is all that keeps them together. One could argue it's a good thing, staying together for the sake of the child.
But just a minute - am I guilty of anything? Of aiding and abetting?
We-ell, til today I didn't know. Ok, suppose I get on my horse, make a moral issue of it, refuse to babysit. Is that likely to stop them? Hardly - they have bags of money - could easily afford to pay a sitter.
In that case, all that happens is I end up the loser. After all, I do enjoy sharing time with Naomi.
"You feeling ok?" I hear, in a concerned tone.
"Oh yes dear."
"Hey don't worry about any of this crap. You and I are friends. We'll just pretend we don't know."
"All right, sound like a reasonable strategy."
She clicks off the remote. "And since your other friends tend to ignore you, I'm the only one you can talk with, right?"
And so it is we have a pleasant evening.
Just after Naomi goes to bed, my cell rings. It's Karen, boasting of snagging boyfriend #3. I let her talk some, then casually ask who.
I almost swallow the phone, hearing a name mooted around to be one of the neoNazi bigshots.
I wonder if she actually knows. Again, I decide it's never wise to be the bearer of bad news. With all her friends and grapevine, she'll soon hear from someone else.
And is she already does know, is that sick or what?
The sister and brother-in-law return just after noon Sunday, completely wiped and asking if I'll stay a bit and look after Naomi while they nap.
Not wishing to creep around quietly, we adjourn to a nearby coffee house. I get me coffee, her Italian soda and we do Sunday's paper. I'm impressed, she's intelligent, well informed on issues.
I catch a look from a woman at the next table, clearly says, "you must be proud of her."
I nod back, oh yes I am.

2007-03-07T08:02:00.000-08:00

1. Rachel - novella length - entered February 27 to March 6, 2007
coming of age

2. Evelyn - novella - January 16 to February 20, 2007
growing up in Victoria of the future

3. Susan - novella - December 31, 2006 to January 11, 2007
narrator is dragged out of her peaceful life into a conspiracy

4. Deborah - novella - September 25 to October 31, 2006
hubby is abducted by space Aliens

5. Judith - short story - September 15 to 18, 2006
scandal and more of it

6. Karen - novella - September 5 to 11, 2006
the ineptitude of the Canadian Navy leaves narrator shipwrecked

7. Naomi - novella - August 13 to 22, 2006
an Israeli Reservist goes on two star crossed tours of duty

8. Lily - book length - July 4 to August 12, 2006
the scandal wasn't really Lily's fault; still the world has considerable amusement at her expense. no sooner does that fade than physical handicap arrives

9. Sarah - novella - June 2 to 27, 2006
among the Haredi (ultraOrthodox) few are the women who end up in the Israeli Defence Force. join one of them on adventures in an elite unit

10. Nuremberg Tour - book - March 6 to May 13, 2006
narrator is first plunged into a mega-scandal, then a lottery style army draft

11. Seema - short story - February 6 to 8, 2006
chroncile of one who spends forever in the shadow of others

12. Vydia - short story - January 23 to 25, 2006
arrival of an Afghan refugee family throws the life of a schoolgirl into chaos

13. Baseball - novella - January 3 to 11, 2006
the life of a baseball player hangs in the balance, is saved. The price? a lot higher than most would care to pay

14. Romance Novella - December 12 to16, 2005
just imagine the two individuals least likely to grace the pages of a Harlequin

15. Field Commission - book - October 11 to November 15, 2005
a poor white and her Afghan friend experience misadventures during a tour of duty in Germany; then a week of total tech war

16. Lucky - novella - July 2 to 7, 2005
Time Corps adventures of a Guyanese and her Afghan friend

17. First Mission - short story - June 20 to 23, 2005
a navigation error leads to being stranded in time; it then proceeds to go downhill even from there

18. Futuristic Infantry - book - May 26 to June 18, 2005
Major Zohra Zamani is an infantry battalion commander 500 years in the future. join her for three Ulster tours. between tours, experience her difficult way of life

19. Alien - book - January 8 to 24, 2005
a space Alien is exiled to Earth, taking over the body of an Afghan-Canadian woman in a state of clinically dead. the two sides of the personality then duke it out for dominance

20. Green Lake - novella - December 2 to 11, 2004
an Afghan-American US Air Force officer 1,000 years in the future leads a derring do mission into nuclear apocolypse

21. Time Corps - book - October 27 to November 22, 2004
a woman of today is thrust 10,000 years into the future, joins a shadowy organization

22. Romance - short story - October 13 to 16, 2004
double romance, set aboard a space ship

23. Jamila - novella - October 1 to 9, 2004
a total outcast decides to end it all. two surprise visitors, one of them Afghan, change that

24. Dark Chronicles of Nooria - August 30 to September 29, 2004
a ten year old girl is plunged into a chilling nightmare, a surreal Dantesque horror

25. Iris - short story - August 25 to 28, 2004
an Irishwoman joins a contingent of Afghans

26. Farzana - novella - August 11 to 25, 2004
a ten year old white Canadian girl freezes to death in a savage blizzard, gets a second chance at life as an Afghan

27. Soap (Opera) - book - July 26 to August 10, 2004
an assortment of eccentric foreigners joins an Afghan contingent

28. Vignettes - short short stories - mostly under 1,500 words - mostly published July 25, 2004 and prior

Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Certain historical events did occur, similar to descriptions here but not identical, but definitely not with the characters I invented here.

Profanity - stars **** used
Violence - the minimal amount needed to support the story line
Sex - adult relationships alluded to, some pickup activity, no scenes of direct sex

This blog is neither for nor against any political organization, religion or ethnic group. Goal is entertainment, while keeping all stories suitable for children.

any feedback, mccoyxyz@yahoo.ca
however, do not expect any instant answers as this often unseen a week or more

Rachel 9

2007-03-06T10:09:00.000-08:00

After Sunday dinner we're sitting relaxed. Deadpan look Mr Tendler says, "girls, I meant to ask, was it really as bad as you thought it would be?"
Naomi doesn't hesitate, "worse and then a lot more."
"And you Rachel?"
"Truth is, it was an horrendous experience. But not as bad as I'd expected."
"Ah, so have either of you heard of the concept of 20/80?"
"Oh yes," I reply.
He grins, "don't just say yes, tell us what you've heard."
"Wholesalers claim 80% of their sales come from the best 20% of customers. Teachers claim 80% of trouble comes from the worst 20% of students."
"So tell me Rachel, do you think 80/20 could be applied to a student's work?"
"In a sort of way. The first 80% of information is easy to take in. It gets a lot harder as you go, sifting more repetition, finding less new stuff."
He positively beams, "I just could not have said it better myself. So girls, think of this. As long as you aren't aiming for some speciality like history prof or working for the Canadian Jewish Congress, why not stop at 80%? No one expects the lay person, the ordinary citizen to know everything."
Comprehension washes over Naomi, "you mean Dad, it's nowhere near as hard being a Jew as some make it out to be?"
"Bingo honey, can't let excess reading interfere with job or family."
"But you Dad, how is it you read things like A Suitable Boy?"
"Honey, I just have to look around me, see how much problem obsession causes. Better to balance things off with a bit of fun reading."
"But of course Dad, there are people you wouldn't admit that to."
He laughs.
Mrs Tendler turns to me, "so Rachel, what exactly do you think of Maxmilien Aue?"
"We-ell, it would be easy to hate him. But, look at his upbringing, the historical times, he could actually have been worse."
"I must have missed that part, enlighten me."
"During his research, he was actually struggling to get the daily ration increased in concentration camps. Not of course out of any sense of charity, out of a desire to get better life expectancy and more production. And yes, he failed in this due to bureaucratic inertia. But still, he does stop short of being 100% evil."
She grins, "so, plan on reading the adult version when you grow up?"
"Not likely, I do buy into the 80/20 concept."
"Very good, many people end up becoming tedious, pedantic," flashes a wicked smile, "including the author in the full 900 page original."
And now we all laugh.
As it dies down, I ask, "Mr Tendler, I heard you laughing too. I quote 'greatest fictional character ever created' and 'second best depiction of time and place ever done'. So how then can he seem 'tedious pedantic' to you?"
Easy laugh, "ever run across the term 'overkill'?"
"You mean, originally applied to nuclear bombs?"
"Yes, well he did succeed in overkilling some 99% of his readers."

We-ell, the nightmares faded after two weeks. Mostly anyhow.
And the A- on the book report was sure nice, better than I usually get for that stuff.
I reflect that being a Jew and being innoculated with history is roughly akin to preparing for tropical travel, with injections. Some prefer two dozen needles which barely puncture the skin. Others, don't mind the one big bicycle pump and get it outa the way.
I'm prepared to let the whole matter drop, but the world isn't. You see, at school I have acquired a gargantuan status symbol.
Since there is no English childrens' version, in these kids' eyes, it's like I've read Kama Sutra or such.
This matter comes to a head when Nathan transfers to our school into the other Grade 4 class.
He haunts me for days, endlessly asking about the book. Naomi thinks he is working up enough nerve to be my boyfriend, but I disagree. There is no romance in him, it's pure status seeking. And once he has learned the whole plot, he largely ignores me.
In due course, news comes. A cousin of Naomi's happens to be in the same after school Hebrew class as Nathan.
Nathan is parading around his knowledge, pretending to his buddies he's done the whole nine yards, reading the adult book.
I think the thing is a huge hoot; Naomi says I should be offended.
Oh come on, anyone like that, sooner or later they trip over themselves. As of the point those buddies catch wise it's just a lie, he can kiss goodbye to any status he's earned.

Rachel 8

2007-03-06T08:03:00.000-08:00

During supper Mr Tendler is in an unusually withdrawn mood. By now I know him well enough, know he's deep in thought as opposed to angry.
As we're done, I say cheerfully, "Mrs Tendler, I'll be glad to feed the dishwasher."
"Thank you dear, you are always so helpful."
I grin, "here at least I have a dishwasher to feed."
Everyone except Himself laughs.
"No, don't go yet," he says quietly, "I've been thinking. Now everyone says a Jew has to be well informed, but that doesn't mean you have to kill yourself in the process. See there is nothing like Les Bienveillantes, it's in a class all of its own. You could read two dozen dreary books and still not learn as much as by reading it."
My skin crawls, I know exactly where he is headed.
"There is no childrens' version in English, might not be for years. Which means Naomi has to read two dozen dreary books instead. Could I ask you a favor Rachel?"
I nod.
"Read and translate aloud for Naomi as you go. Good learning experience for both of you."
"Yes, I could do that," relieved it hadn't been worse.
"That is not fair Dad," Naomi insists, "inflicts two heavy books on me, not one."
"Ok honey, you make the choice freely. It's either do this or else face the two dozen dreary books."
"Da-ad, you really have a nasty way of painting people into corners. Am I right Mum?"
Mrs smiles gently, "you take the free choice honey. But, I'll have you know, your father is right."
I sense Naomi groan inwardly.
He smiles gently, "honey you could read say Browning's 'Ordinary Men', but I'm guessing you'd be lucky to learn a tenth as much. If you are a Jew anyway, why not be an efficient one?"
The silence hangs for all eternity and then some, but probably only a minute of real time. Naomi says quietly, "your promise Dad, if I go through with this, you don't suggest any more books for two years. I have witnesses here, you know."
Indulgent smile, "all right honey, that's how important I feel it is," looks at the calendar, "you have my word, two years from today."
He turns to me, "please, don't start tonight, chances are you won't sleep well. Tomorrow evening is ok."
I raise an eyebrow, "you mean, the Sabbath?"
He gives a loud mock groan, winks, "oh come on, don't tease me like that, I'm not old fashioned. And after all, it is a Jewish topic."
Friday evening we tour with an Einsatzkommando, not just any one, the one which vacuumed Kiev. Saturday morning we're encircled at Stalingrad in the depths of winter. Saturday afternoon, it's off to Auschwitz to do research. And Saturday evening, it's the fall of Berlin, including an ending of stunning betrayal.
Now unless you happen to have spent twelve hours of your weekend in the hospital emergency waiting room, I can guarantee I had a lousier weekend than you.
But you know, give the devil his due, he was absolutely right. I'm left with a sense of having gone up Mount Everest on my first climb. After that, why on earth would you bother with anything else?

Rachel 7

2007-03-05T11:08:00.000-08:00

At that moment Mr Tendler comes in, returning from his work as history prof at UVic, University of Victoria. One glance suffices for him to sum up, "ah ha, book reports."
"Yes Dad," Naomi sulks.
With a wicked smile, he picks up Gulag Archipelago, "Naomi honey, you have my heartfelt sympathy."
"Really Dad?"
"Absoutely, that is the most colossal bore I've ever seen."
"Perhaps Dad, you could talk with the teacher?"
"No honey, it'll be a good learning experience for you."
Crestfallen look, "it will?"
"You see honey, at first the book shocks. That of course was the author's intent; to put pressure on the then Soviet government. Sad to say, he didn't know when to stop. Shock fades away, replaced by an overpowering sense of numbness. Continuing down the yellow brick road, this mutates into boredom, which becomes angrier and angrier."
"Ah Dad, wasn't that the author's intention?"
"No honey, not at all. You get angry at the author, for so completely boring you to death. His original hope was you'd be angry at the USSR. But still, it's a good experience for you."
Mr Tendler's eyes fall on my book. A look resembling awe comes over his face, quiet tone, "Rachel, do you realize just how much you've been flattered?"
"Ah flattered?"
"Indeed, your teacher must be confident of your French abilities. Sad to say, I only read the English translation. As well, she'd feel you are capable of dealing with the greatest fictional character ever created and the second best depiction of time and place ever done."
"Really?"
"It's told in first person, makes it that much more compelling. A fictional SS officer, starting the war as a First Lieutenant; ending as Lieutenant Colonel. Now making him gay, a doctorate in law, and a reader of philosophy was a stroke of brilliance. It allows him to detach, stand back much better than most and observe."
"Mr Tendler, I'm shocked, you admiring a Nazi. You should be ashamed."
He laughs easily, "you misunderstand. I did not say I admire Maxmilien Aue. I said he was the single most brilliant creation of a fictional character ever. It's the author I admire. But then, you knew he was Jewish?"
I gasp, "for real?"
"American, largely educated in France. His book did a huge service to Jews overall."
"How?"
"The whole research thing had been hung up on he-did-this and he-did-that syndrome. Endless evidence of acts with almost no understanding of the lives or thinking of the participants. Even apart from that achievement, he showed time and place in the second best manner ever done."
"What comes first?"
"Beyond any doubt, no one on the planet has ever matched Vikram Seth in 'A Suitable Boy', showing 1950 India." Wicked grin, "but just be glad your teacher didn't assign that."
"How so?"
"It's about 1,400 pages. There is no childrens' version. You see the original adult version, being an Indian creation and hence more prudish, was already suitable for children."
Everyone laughs.
He winks at me, "still, let's just keep that our secret."
"How so?"
"Let's just say a whole lot of Jews would be hugely sniffily offended if you state a non-Jewish book came first. That's stuff you'd only tell close friends."
I feel honored, almost like I've become a family member.

Rachel 6

2007-03-05T08:03:00.000-08:00

Mrs Tendler is always home quite early, being a stockbroker in a financial building downtown. Here in Victoria we're three hours behind Toronto, and her hours of work are set by the Toronto Stock Exchange.
She breezes in just as we're unpacking school stuff.
"What's this?" she asks, picking up Naomi's book and mine.
"Our book reports Mum," Naomi replies utterly deadpan.
"I see, and what is your opinion of this?"
"Come on Mum, we're only ten, shouldn't hafta read this heavy."
"You mean heavy in language usage, heavy in content or both?"
"Both."
Mrs Tendler turns to me, "and your view Rachel?"
First, I may as well be honest. Second, I have a duty to back my friend. "Ma'am, if I were you, I'd be sending a letter of protest. First to the teacher, if that fails to deliver, then to the principal."
She smiles, obviously warming up to debate, "ah ha, you do have opinions after all. So, let's hear them, why should I be protesting?"
"First, we know the moral reputation of Quebec, to be polite, somewhat looser than English Canada." I open the book, show her the Quebec endorsement, "now just because Quebec accepts this as suitable for children, no proof the rest of Canada would."
She now has the look that proclaims she's hugely enjoying this, "I see, and why would the rest of Canada object? Wild perverted sex?"
"Well ah no, Teacher said the sex content had been removed."
"All right, why then do you object to the book on moral grounds?"
"There's murder in it."
She actually rolls her eyes. Then, recovering her composure, "tell me Rachel, with your Mum having so many problems, has she ever got around to explaining the importance of history?"
"Ah well no, mostly she just tells me what chores to do."
"And she doesn't ask much about school?"
"No."
"Rachel, out there in the goy world, they have things considerably easier. Far less social pressure to be charitable; leaves them more money to indulge themselves. Far less pressure to be involved in political action; leaves them more time for their hobbies. Now, unless you plan on joining them, you'll have to fit into our world. It is the duty of every adult Jew to fully understand history. Any right wing resurgence is to be dealt with politically, not ignored. I agree with your teacher, you must read the book."
I groan inwardly, then counterattack. Pointing to Gulag Archipelago, I say, "this isn't Jewish history."
She laughs, "ah ha, thinking of being a lawyer when you grow up? Rachel, listen, any group doing murder, even if it involves other groups, always sooner or later decides to include Jews, if any are available. So yes, Naomi must read the book."
Naomi's look says told-you-so.

Rachel 5

2007-03-02T08:13:00.000-08:00

We return from recess to find a huge stack of books on Teacher's desk. With a smile that I've come to associate with invariable bad news, she starts, "rest of the afternooon will be a study period, so get that homework done. Reason, I'm handing out the books I've chosen for each of you to report on. And oh yes, I'm sure all of you will have questions or comments."
As my turn comes, my hand shakes when I reach out to take "Les Bienveillantes" by Jonathan Littell. "Ma'am," I say uneasily, "that isn't a childrens' book. I've heard Naomi's parents' friends talk about it."
"I see, and what do they say?"
"Not only an excess of blood and gore, but even homosex and incest."
She laughs, "did it occur to you they were speaking of the adult version? The full 900 page original? This is only 200 pages."
"Oh."
She opens the cover, "there, see that paragraph, in English and French? What does it say?"
"Endorsed by the Quebec Department of Education as suitable for children. Still, does the British Columbia Department have the same view?"
"They don't review it, trust the Quebec assessment, can't afford to review every French book. And oh yes, I can assure you it's been vacuumed clean of homosex and incest, and the blood and gore content has gone down, some anyhow. It's the children fun version. You tour with an Einsatzkommando, get encircled at Stalingrad, do research inside a concentration camp and see up close and personal the fall of Berlin."
"With all due respect ma'am, that does not sound child friendly to me."
"Rachel I wouldn't give it to you if I didn't think you capable. You have done a year plus a summer of French Immersion. Have you ever heard the saying - use it or lose it?"
At this point I realize it's hopeless to argue.
"Rachel, look at the bright side. When you grow up, see how much your options expand by being fully bilingual, you'll look back and thank me for today."
That I rather doubt, however I have ceased to argue.
A few minutes later, Naomi sits down with the childrens' version of "Gulag Archipelago."
I flash a wicked smile, "consider yourself lucky she gave the English version and not the Russian original."
"Smart ass," Naomi says, sticking out her tongue, "at least you get something with some life in it. I've heard this thing is as deadly dull as oatmeal."
As we walk home, Naomi says, in a depressed tone, "hey look Rachel, I know I promised to give you the blow-by-blow account (pardon the pun) of my interview with that silly guidance counsellor. Can we leave it til a later time? I just can't manage now."
"Ye-ah, I hear you, bigtime. What on earth are your parents gonna say when they find out the books we got?"
She pulls a sour face, "they'd be proud, real proud. A sign we're growing up."
I groan inwardly, wondering, not for the first time, whether adulthood is truly all it is cracked up to be.

Rachel 4

2007-03-01T10:53:00.000-08:00

At recess time, Naomi says casually, "so, how'd it go?"
"Ok."
"Care to be a little more specific than that? Did she succeed in beating up on you enough you told her about the Foreign Legion?"
I blush, "ah yeah."
"And so?"
"She kind of hinted around that I would possibly change my mind between now and then; but stopped short of laughing at me." And now I'm rather eager to change the topic, "and you, how did she view your plan to be an investment banker? Surely that would go well, at least you have good enough math for it."
Sly wicked smile, puts her finger over her lips.
"Ah ha, you didn't tell her. Made up some joke. What?"
Quietly, "can't tell you now, kids would overhear."
"Gimme at least a hint."
She cups her hands over my ear, whispers softly, "told her I wanted to be a professional dominatrix."
I gasp, then start roaring with laughter.
Another wicked smile, she says quietly, "you gotta learn, have more fun dealing with grownups."
Quietly I reply, "I sense you aren't saying something."
Her eyes go wide, she whispers quieter than before, "as I was talking, two things happened. One, I started to realize that's what I really want to do. Two, she was just so totally grooving on the topic, it's obvious her and her husband"
"No," I interrupt, "can't possibly be, a bore like her."
Wicked smile, "oh yes oh yes, it's the quiet ones fool you all the time. When we're walking home, I'll tell you evverrything in the conversation."
I shrug, "oh well, kinda money they make, then you'll beat me into the retirement stage."
We both laugh.