DIARY
Where
were you when I needed you?
by
Robert LaFrance
On April Fool’s Day, April 1st,
also known as Poisson d’Avril, I saw my first robin of the year 2016. This
should have been a sign of spring, or, as I call it, SPRING, but it wasn’t. I
stepped off the porch, tripped over an ice-filled bucket, and fell on my face
on the ice-hard front lawn.
My question was: where in the blue
noodle heckfire was SPRING when I needed it? Why hadn’t it been on site to thaw
that lawn so it didn’t hurt my face so much?
As I lay there dazed – yes, even
more than usual – on the lawn, that robin looked over at me and, I swear this
is true, sneered at my clumsiness. If he (or she) could have spoken, it would
have said: “If you’re wondering why I haven’t shown up sooner, it was because
Donald Trump wouldn’t let me by.” This is rather silly because I have it from a
reliable source that Donald Trump doesn’t care if the robins are in Peru,
Edmundston, or (the bilingual ones) in Quebec City.
*************************
It was nostalgia time again this
morning. I drove by the former Co-op auction barns in Florenceville and
remembered the days when I was in my early teens and used to come down there
every Monday morning to sit and munch hot dogs while watching the livestock auction.
I would go down there with Murray Paris, who often bought calves or piglets to
raise during the summer. It was a great and interesting experience, especially
the day when the lone livestock handler had to control three or four bulls and
heifers that were being sold. One day he was gored slightly by a bull’s horn
and he beat the animal over the head with a shovel handle. Not fun to look at.
A farmer from Centreville quickly put in a high bid on the bull, probably to
stop the abuse.
When I was around 40 years old, I
was back at that same auction barn and watching the sale of farm animals while
one or more of my own kids munched hotdogs. They really enjoyed going there in
the days before they had to go to school and be picked on by their teachers – including
their mother.
A great bonus by that time was the
barbecue set up outside the auction floor by Kalman Gere, a 70-year-old
Hungarian guy (but born in Croatia) from Prince William. His bratwurst were…my
mouth is watering as I write about them. I can’t go on.
Sadly, there is no regular livestock
sale there any more, and Kalman doesn’t cook that bratwurst there any more. He
died in November of 2014.
*************************
Recently there have been quite a few
headlines in my daily newspaper about the growing of marijuana once the federal
government makes it legal, and there has been the expected uproar from certain
segments of society who would object to air if they could find a semi-lucid way
of expressing it.
Here is my opinion – jump on it, NB.
Some of the objections are out there because some don’t want the province to
invest in what could be a big industry within a few years. Take a look at
Colorado. If I read their spreadsheet correctly, that state collects somewhere
around $70 million a year in taxes, permits and other charges. And WE are
talking about a mere $500 million provincial deficit? Get smoking, everyone!
(Note: One of the people objecting
to New Brunswick’s taking in revenue from legalized marijuana – while ignoring
all the income from liquor and beer sales – said last week during a TV
interview that NB should “take the high road”. I’m not kidding; he said to take
the HIGH road.)
****************************
My friend Flug has a friend named
James Hutchison, from up around Plaster Rock way. That’s all right. I’m not
saying it isn’t, but the only trouble is that in the court news in a
Fredericton newspaper last week, they named a James Hutchison who had been
arrested for robbing a corner store,
damaging a house in the ritzy part of town by throwing a brick through the
window, stealing a car and assaulting a police officer.
I mean, this is all okay in a way – we all have to have a
crime spree now and then – but the James Hutchison who lives near Plaster Rock
isn’t the same James Hutchison as the crime spree guy in Fredericton. So our
James has been going around, practically door-to-door, and letting people know
that he is a law-abiding citizen and wouldn’t say “Scat!” to a cat.
All this instant communication these
days can sure cause problems.-end-
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