Robo-Calls, Schmobo Calls - I get them too

I am a Robo-Call victim, sort of

                                                            by Robert LaFrance

Let’s get an important item out of the way first. I want to say hello to the tough folks at Victoria Glen Manor nursing home in Perth-Andover, NB – I mean the ones who read and listen to my column every week. You have to admit they have to be tough to endure that after working hard all their lives. If one man or woman says: “I was a farmer for thirty years” and another says “I’ve been reading Bob’s column for five years”, which one would be tougher?

All right, you don’t have to say it out loud.

On to the first of this week’s subjects: why, it’s the Victoria Glen Manor. Within a few weeks, and maybe even sooner, Bert Gagnon and some of the other residents will be putting their vegetable seeds, tomato and other plants into planters so they will be ready for Bob LaFrance to visit in the late summer and steal a tomato and maybe a cucumber or two if I can get them to look the other way for a few seconds. (I’m from Tilley, so I’m tricky).

Last fall when I wrote the story in the paper about Bert’s plants, I was tempted to grab one of those delicious looking Beefsteak tomatoes, but he and others were watching very closely; this year will be different. I will escape with a big tomato and if I can slip a nice cucumber in my camera bag I’ll do it. I’m that type of guy.

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On to the political arena (lots of slippery ice there), I feel that I now have to make a comment about those so-called Robo-Calls made during the last federal election campaign. I am one of the many victims.

Well, okay, maybe not technically. I didn’t get any calls during the actual campaign almost a year ago now, but I’ve gotten calls since. The reason I mention these now is that I have found out why these calls occur right at supper time. (One acquaintance of mine calls it ‘dinner time’, but how can you have dinner in the evening? It’s at noon.)

About eight months ago I stopped to peruse what was on special at a yard sale in Aroostook. I thought the guy looked a little shifty, but that adjective has often been used about me, so I stopped anyway. He had these plates for sale, really good looking plates for a nickel each, with forks having a distinctive pattern. He said they must always be used together.

You’ve already figured it out, haven’t you? I don’t mind telling you, it took me a while. Whenever we use those plates and forks, we get a Robo-Call. “You are one of the lucky winners of a South Seas Cruise…” and you hear the sound of a ship’s whistle. At least I think it’s a ship’s whistle, although it does resemble chili night at the club. ‘The Sounds of Silence’ it ain’t.

At other times it’s “Megan, from Cardholder Services” and she’s calling to tell me that I might be in danger of having my identity stolen. Those who know me are pretty much persuaded that anyone who wants to purloin my identity would be certifiable, so I usually tell Megan where to catch the bus to Halifax – not mentioning that the public bus system in the Maritimes is not shifting to many bums around these days. I hope Megan doesn’t go to a bus stop and wait, unless she has a good supply of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and dill pickles.

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This column is going well, isn’t it? My next subject is my recent defeat of insomnia. Lately I have been sleeping better and it does make a difference in how one's day goes. Murphy's Law doesn't seem to affect one as much when he is rested and not stumbling around like an African Wolfhound in a taxi. The reason for my recent serenity is what I found in a wall when I was stripping off sheetrock (or Gyproc) from a house down the road. The owner wanted to put barn boards – of all things – on his living room walls.

In a daily newspaper from the middle 1990s was a story originating from the United Nations in New York and from Sweden – a steam bath I think. It was an announcement by 182 countries who had met to discuss human rights and such things, although about 155 of those countries wouldn't know a human right from Hiram Kinney’s left.

The pledge endorsed by all 182 countries was this: they would “wipe out global poverty and injustice by the year 2000". There was no mention of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. You do have to admit, though, that when you drive down the Trans Canada Highway you don’t see a speck of global poverty.                

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Yup, we're still spoiled

The secret behind justice and understanding

                         by Robert LaFrance

            A few months ago I wrote a column about how spoiled we all are these days; the flood that struck this area March 23-25 served only to underline that theory - again. I’m not right very often; let me have this one, willya?

            It was only one day before the flood struck Perth-Andover that I complained about not having enough socks. Today I am thinking of that old story: “I complained because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.” I hope we can all get together and help the flood victims get their lives back together.

            Before the flood, I was looking over some of my columns from years gone by. In early April 1995 the subject of flooding was part of my column. “The river ice has gone out, leaving Perth-Andover residents angry because it's been such a DULL spring…This year they stayed in their houses, didn't get any appearances on the national news, and just generally cursed the fates who refused them all that attention…It's been a mild winter, followed by this rather milquetoast spring…No flood, no flat tire for a week at least, and my eardrums have now recovered from last week’s rock concert. By gar, I think it's spring!”

            It sure goes to show you how even I – usually brilliant, or is that my cousin Sam? - can sure say some dumb things. Like a lot of other people, I thought Perth-Andover was relatively safe from flooding, but this one came along so quickly that it was a shock to every human and computer model ever built. I went uptown on Thursday morning because a lady called me and said that there was a report on the scanner that water was across the road above Perth. Friday morning it was over the road below Perth and Friday afternoon it was over Perth and parts of Andover.

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            Since people, especially flood victims, have heard enough about the flood for a while and just want to get on with life, I’ll move on to another subject – Babe Ruth. What could be more logical?

            One of those 1995 columns (which I sat and read with the aid of a jar of lemonade) was talking about Babe Ruth’s being somewhat of an economic power back in the 1920s and 1930s. When he endorsed a shaving cream, its sales tripled, but it turns out he was a mere flea compared to the likes of Sydney Crosby today, Wayne Gretzky or Michael Jordan back in the 1990s. Where the Babe's using Gillette might make that company's stock go up ten or fifteen percent over time, that only amounted to a few million dollars, which, as we know is only a couple of our own paycheques. A million here and a million there soon adds up to money, but still.

            In the 1990s Jordan had taken one basketball season off and had tried his hand at professional baseball, in the minor-minor leagues. When he tired of that, just the RUMOUR that he was coming back to play basketball had a bit of an impact - you might say - on Wall Street. He did commercials for Quaker Oats, McDonalds, General Foods, Nike, and Sara Lee. The total increase in value of those five stocks - and the increase is attributed to the rumour alone - was $2.3 BILLION.

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            An old friend visited the other day. And yes, I do have friends even if we don’t like each other. Len, from Esterhazy, Sask., stopped by while I was splitting wood, something I usually leave for my wife to do because I have a sore elbow. After we said our hellos, Len watched me split wood for a while.

            "It’s using a howitzer to shoot a raccoon," he told me, demonstrating his still-sharp metaphorical skill. He was referring to my using a maul to split drywood. “It reminds me of the time we lived out on the tundra (Qu’appelle Valley, hardly the tundra) with those army cadets who were supposed to be helping us build a barracks for “C” Company. Remember that? One or two of the cadets went into town and got drunk, then spit on the sidewalk or something, so the army disbanded the whole squad of cadets and sent them home.

            "Those bad apples should have been weeded out because they went bananas,” Len said. “Every outfit has some lemons."

            I asked him if he wanted to add any more fruit to that basket and was afraid for a moment he was going to mention spoiled pomegranates and crushed grapes. He went on: "Those government ministers like Peter MacKay, their free plane rides and all their other scandals – nothing happened, and THEY embarrassed a whole nation. Brian Mulroney went on to honoured retirement, sort of, and it wasn't Richard Hatfield's marijuana, right? There's only justice and understanding if you have money."

            Now there's a revelation.

                                

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