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IN THIS ISSUE

• Gerrit de Leeuw recalls the Battle of Arnhem
• Geoff Goodship lazes on Mexican beaches in late winter
• Jim Olson researches the story of Little Red Riding Hood
• Burke Dykes and Jean Sterling remember ABBA
• Jack Peaker a this tip of the hat to the Irish
• Catherine Green recommends a technical help video
Barbara Wear sends the URL for a romantic love story

Gerrit de Leeuw continues his

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES

We now come to the Battle of Arnhem, in which so many civilian and military lives were lost.

It was Sunday, September 17, 1944. In the weeks previous to this date, my dad had purchased a little two-wheel push cart similar to the ones we see in pictures on which flowers are sold (I will come back to this cart later on). I guessed later in life that he must have heard some rumors on clandestine radio broadcasts about an invasion. He often was absent and we kids did not have a clue about what he was up to nor where he was, for obvious reasons. If he had been caught, it would most likely have meant the forced work camps somewhere in Holland, or worse, in Germany.

We were a religious Protestant family who regularly attended church. On this Sunday my mom left for church service in the Eusebius Kerk, a middle-aged church located close to the afore-mentioned bridge. This whole area, including the church and bridge, was destroyed during the battle which raged between the 17th and 25th of September, and the time it took to finish the war in 1945.

On this Sunday morning, my mom went to church, either alone or with my oldest sisters. My memory is vague on this point. At some time during the morning all hell broke loose. My dad gathered his little briefcase, which was always handy and which contained most important papers, and ordered us all to sit on the exit staircase. We had been taught this emergency procedure because during a hit on a house, the staircase was the part which could withstand the largest impact of ammunition. Later on, viewing the bombed houses, we saw that most staircases were still standing while the rest of the almost all double-brick walled houses were in ruins.

During the brief short lulls of the fighting and air attacks in the immediate area, we were allowed quick looks outside and I remember looking north and seeing lots of airplanes firing. The concern was for my mother, who was some distance away, and how she would get home in all this fire power. It would be next to a miracle if she could survive if she attempted to make it home.

War is not totally inhuman. Around 11 a.m., pamphlets were dropped by the Allied Forces with the news (in Dutch) that there would be a break in the air fight but it would continue later on. I think that it was to be about a one-hour lull. This was an opportunity for residents to get home without having to be overly worried about being a casualty. At exactly the time indicated on the pamphlets, the air attacks resumed.

The few hours during her absence were filled with the noise of airplanes, bombers and fighters, mixed with loud explosions and gunfire. As an eight-year-old boy, I was very scared and nervous. My dad often took a liquid substance to calm his nerves. It was called 'valarian' and came in a bottle and was red. I now often wonder if it was not related to the present tranquilizer drug 'Valium'. The similarity in names makes me reason this way. He gave me about four or five drops of this substance with a bit of water, and it did calm me down.

The battle raged on the following days. Kitty-corner across the street lived a family who were frequent visitors and were considered friends. The man was a plumber and a business man. They suggested that we come and share their limited living quarters because of the danger of our corner house being hit by the ammunition which we could clearly see flying back and forth.

Before we left the house, I saw a German soldier standing on the road in front of the house looking through binoculars at the other side of the tracks when he was hit by a bullet coming from the top of a high school across the railyard. One never knew where there were Allied forces and where the German forces were. It was not a good thing to witness for an insecure and nervous eight-year-old lad.

The rest of the week we slept in very cramped quarters shared with our friendly neighbours. I don't know how many of us kids had to fit in one bed, but there must have been at least five or six with our heads on either side of the bed and feet tickling each others' faces. We were not allowed to undress in case the need of immediate evacuation of the house. All we were allowed was to take off were our shoes. They were lined up in front of the bed in order of our location in the bed so they could be accessed without delay.

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This house was part of a row housing complex with other households occupying the upstairs floor and was facing east. During this week we all witnessed one of the most spectacular scenes of the war, the massive parachute drop of men and supplies which happened during the week of fighting. The video clip shown on the television commercial for Time Life's 'Century of War' DVDs shows a short scene of thousands of parachutes in the air. I am convinced it was this scene we witnessed. We also witnessed burning aircraft between this massive drop.

One of the war cemeteries is located in a wooded area in Oosterbeek, a town just west of the city where the parachute drops took place. To this day, it is meticulously maintained by school children as a way of saying thanks to the soldiers who lost their lives in their effort to free us from foreign occupation.

NOTE: Click on either of the above pictures for more information.

To be continued.

Geoff Goodship and Freddie are escaping the unusually harsh B.C. winter in

SAN CARLOS, SONORA, MEXICO

Life in the slow lane.... No car, no phone, no television, and (most of the time) no computer. Isn't there a line in a Willie Nelson song, "no phone, no pool, no pets, ain't got no cigarettes." It rings a bell. We're close. It wasn't our goal when we decided to come here, but this seems to be turning into a kind of suburban 21st century detoxification exercise.

The no car is a big change for us, but the buses run every 20 minutes. It is four pesos (40 cents) for the five-minute ride to the centre of town. It's also a 25-minute walk on a beautiful oceanfront walkway down the main street. If we go in the other direction, it's a nine-peso ride into Guyamas (about 7-8 miles). It's a larger centre, a port city. For all of $5.00 we can ride approximately 110 miles to Hermasillo, a city of approximately one million. I think San Carlos is about a six-hour drive south of the U.S.-Mexico boarder.

The "no phone" is also a matter of some adaptation but it's not that difficult, really. There is some cell service here but we choose not to own a cell at home. The down side is that it leaves us less connected to events at home, but the up side is that we have more time to discover what's here.

No television is a blessing in disguise. No CBC, CTV, CNN - the world seems a much more peaceful place without them. I've no idea how many have died in America's foreign wars since we left, or what other tragedies are unfolding. There is a small but well-stocked library here that opens from 10 till 2 each Friday. It's a give one-take one situation. You turn in an old pocket book or hard cover and take out new ones. There is plenty of trash reading but so far I've found reading material that I would not find time for at home.

The "no computer" is of course not entirely true for there are at least five places in San Carlos where you can rent a terminal. If you own a laptop you can use their wireless for free so long as you buy a coffee or something to eat or drink. The prices range from one dollar per hour to three dollars per hour and usually the coffee that goes with it is quite good. My biggest mistake in coming here was not to bring a laptop. I contemplated it but felt I'd best wait till Vista had settled in.

In place of the car, phone, TV and home computer, we have about 12 miles of beautiful beach to walk. We have many fine places to eat, with interesting menus. There are lots of fellow "travellers" with interesting stories to exchange. And then there is the sunshine, the cool clean breeze coming in off the Sea of Cortez. They alone make our sojourn here worthwhile. They are why we came.

Next to the water's edge, the sand is hard packed. Waves cool our feet and endless colored stones keep us bending over to pick up small shining miracles. Out in San Carlos Bay, a sailboat rides on a deep blue ocean. No clouds today and likely none tomorrow. Ten feet from the water's edge, the sand is loose, providing a resistance exercise and foot massage. It's the warm morning sunshine on bare arms and legs that brought us here. It's knowing that the sunshine will be here tomorrow morning to take the overnight chill off our living room and invite us into the day. It's knowing that by mid- afternoon, that same sun will invite Mexicans and Gringos alike to siesta for an hour.

We will return home in March better for this, I think.

Jim Olson has been

DALLYING WITH LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD

I am a participant in a current controversy here in Wisconsin about the number of gray wolves in the state: are there enough for a healthy state ecology or so many that we all need fear the dire consequences of having 500 or so of the furry critters around? As a person who has been called a "Wolf Lover", I was warming up to the task of defending the numbers when I was distracted by a 30-second TV ad produced by some of the "Wolf Fearers" claiming that "Little Red Riding Hood was Right," portraying a scene at a woodsy northern playground. Kids are seen swinging innocently on the swing sets, unaware that a gray wolf is stalking the area.

The ad sent me off to hunting the internet forest for background on the Red Riding Hood children's story. I became so fascinated with the story, its history and current status, that as I met Red in the internet forest on her way to grandma's house, I momentarily forgot about ecology and was caught up in her saga of sociology, philosophy, politics, and Sex.

While the story has its origins in oral folk lore, we are most familiar with the written story as developed by the brothers Grimm in Germany as a cautionary tale about following mother's orders directly without taking shortcuts or dallying. I must admit that I did not take the moral to heart but dallied along my way of environmental activism, enthralled by the history of the story and its various renditions and interpretations.

The Grimm brothers' version is not the first written version. A century before this, a 17th century French version set the tone of sexuality that continues with the story to this day. It is an overt tale of seduction that warns girls just learning about sexuality to explore the subject cautiously and not lose their hood (virginity) to some sweet-talking stranger. In this version, Red is persuaded to remove her clothing and get into bed with the wolf, who has disguised himself as the late Grandma. She does this and then the famous dialogue about Grandma's altered anatomy, a fixture in all later versions, takes place, culminating in Red's tender flesh being embraced (what big arms), ogled (what big eyes), and then rendered into wolf chow by what big teeth!

Unlike the later German version, Red is not saved by woodsmen and hunters but is a tasty goner, following the fate of Grandma, who was a tough old appreciated but unsatisfying morsel. In one later version, Grandma takes this ultimate insult rather philosophically, declaring that she welcomes the wolf's embrace because she can now go to heaven where she will no longer suffer the intolerable ravages of old age.

One California school later banned a rendition of this naked in bed with the wolf version, not because of the implied sexuality but because Red was taking a bottle of wine (I assume red wine) to Grandma, and the school board objected to any story where children are associated with alcohol. It's not clear in any of the versions if the wolf enjoyed the wine with his meal.

The story has since had renditions and interpretations that fit all the literary styles and socio-political philosophies of modern times. Feminist critics have seen the story as either sexist treatment of the female as a sex object or interestingly, the opposite, of releasing the sexual energy of a repressed gender. One modern film, "Hard Candy", portrays a Red Riding Hood protagonist as a fourteen-year-old who surfs the internet to find, lure, and trap a child molester, whom she then tortures as revenge for molested children. Critics disagree as to whether she enjoys this or not. A poster for the film portrays little Red Riding Hood standing on the trigger of a large wolf trap as bait for a prowling wolf.

Some versions are not ambivalent about desire. A 1960s MGM cartoon is called "Red Hot Riding Hood", where all the characters are bored with the old version and try something new. Red is an exotic dancer who sends the wolf off to Grandma, who turns out to be a nymphomaniac. Between Grandma"s pursuit and Red's sexual teasing, the wolf is driven insane and shoots himself, only to have his ghost bedeviled by Red's continued bumping and grinding.

One serious philosophical version presents the wolf's side of the story and political satirists have produced several versions of a "politically correct" version filled with modern socio-babble where Red spurns rescue, viewing the wolf as a victim of society. A "politically incorrect" version satirizes the extreme right in a kind of Rush Limbaugh diatribe where Red is a "femi-nazi" and Grandma too stupid a "bitch" to arm herself with an automatic pistol. The wolf is splattered over the landscape by rescuing hunters with M16s ablaze.

The University of Southern Mississippi has a collection of old copies of 19th and 20th Century English versions online where I was further delayed on my "rescue the wolf" journey by the beauty and charm of the intricate illustrations for many of the books.

Now I'll have to leave Red and get back to the mundane world of digging through the science of wolf biology, where the facts show an animal that loves tasty rabbits and deer, and unfortunately an occasional lamb or calf, but is pretty much unimpressed with humans of any size or gender and quite willing to leave people alone and be left alone in return.

CORRESPONDENCE

Burke Dykes writes about ABBA, the musical group mentioned in Jack Peaker's article last week: ABBA was a very popular vocal group a few years back. The Broadway musical "Mamma Mia!" may still be running in New York. It featured their music and was one of the top musicals in New York for many years. I believe that they are the "ABBA" of Jack's listing.

This from Wikipedia: "ABBA were a Swedish pop music group active from 1972 until 1982. ABBA were the most successful popular music group ever to come out of Scandinavia, and rank amongst the top acts in the history of popular music. The quartet topped worldwide charts from the mid 1970s to the early 1980s. They remain a fixture of radio playlists and continue to sell albums. The group have reportedly sold more than 370 million records."

Jean Sterling also remembers ABBA: When we were in Toronto we saw "Mama Mia", which features ABBA music ("Mama Mia" is one of their songs). There was a plot of sorts that tied together a plethora of ABBA songs, including "Mama Mia" and "I Do I Do I Do". It was a great show and we loved the music - in fact we saw the show again when a touring company came to Orlando, and we bought the CD. Their music is very lively and has lovely harmony.

Jack Peaker claims

YOU HAVE TO LAUGH WITH THE IRISH

Flynn staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy, Paddy. He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Mary. He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step. As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his rump. A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing especially painful. Managing not to yell, Flynn sprang up, pulled down his pants, and looked in the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were cut and bleeding. He managed to quietly find a full box of Band-Aids and began putting a Band-Aid as best he could on each place he saw blood. He then hid the now almost empty Band-Aid box and shuffled and stumbled his way to bed.

In the morning, Flynn woke up with searing pain in both his head and butt and Mary staring at him from across the room. She said, "You were drunk again last night, weren't you?"

Flynn said, "Why you say such a mean thing?"

"Well," Mary said, "it could be the open front door, it could be the broken glass at the bottom of the stairs, it could be the drops of blood trailing through the house, it could be your bloodshot eyes, but mostly ... it's all those Band-Aids stuck on the hall mirror."

TECHNICAL HELP IN OLDEN DAYS

Catherine Green sends the URL for a clip about a medieval scholar who calls the library help desk for assistance in his transition from scrolls to books. Subtitled in English, there is no need for sound, but I recommend it. It's much funnier:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRjVeRbhtRU

Barbara Wear sends this link to a photography journal of the story of two cockatoos, one domesticated and one wild. The female has a bad wing and cannot fly and she is courted by a wild male. He manages to get her cage open and the relationship continued from there. There are some wonderful photos and a great story:

http://www.juliusbergh.com/cocky

"Everything is changing. People are taking the comedians seriously and the politicians as a joke." - Will Rogers