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Feller Musings
Saturday, 23 February 2013
Tempus fugit
Mood:  not sure

OK!  Apparently it's been the better part of 4 years since I've thought of looking at this site, I had to spend 10 minutes figuring out my login name and changing a forgotten password... 

MSN gave way to Multiply and now that's dead.  Yahoo Feller alumni group is the only one I belong to, and that gets about one post every year or so.  In some ways I miss the flame wars, but not really.

I'm just putting this post up to see if anyone's still paying attention.  Make a comment and I may revive this.

Posted by Don Ferguson at 12:08 PM EST
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Friday, 5 June 2009

I haven't visited here in a while but according to the tracking statistics a few people check in regularly (30 + hits yesterday). Somewhat to my surprise Google lists this site at or near the top of all of the Feller-related searches I did today, so I guess it's easy enough to find. I'd have to pay actual money to see who you all are but that's not going to happen anytime soon.  Maybe I should have a guest book. 

It seems that most of the visible Feller chat sites are moribund.  The move to Multiply cut the membership by more than half and posts are even more infrequent than previously.  If my feelings of ennui towards anything Feller are typical, I guess it's not surprising.  I moved my sites over but no one's posted anything since the move so I'm likely going to put them out of their misery and delete them.

Well, it doesn't take any energy or money to keep this site going and the photos are nice so I'll keep it open as long as Angelfire lets me.  If anyone has any more photos they'd like to share get in touch and I'll make arrangements to get them posted. 

Posted by Don Ferguson at 10:08 AM EDT
Updated: Friday, 5 June 2009 10:33 AM EDT
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Monday, 27 November 2006

Illona, Kenny and I traveled to Ottawa over the US Thanksgiving break so Kenny could attend a fencing clinic on Friday evening and participate in an under 11 tournament the next day. It was our first visit to Canada as a family in about 6 or 7 years and we enjoyed ourselves enormously. The Excalibur club’s 'salle' is located at the University of Ottawa so after Kenny passed his yellow armband test on Friday night, we joined Terry Russell and Michel Girodo at the aptly named Cafe Nostalgica on the U of O campus and shared some reminiscences. In the midst of our get together, the house band did their sound check by playing "Those were the days, my friend". I’d like to think that it was in recognition of our group, but I guess an alternative interpretation was that it was an homage to the name of the establishment. No matter, it struck me as appropriate in either case.

Somewhat contrary to a strongly and oft voiced opinion, there was no odour of brimstone, nor did the earth open and swallow Terry. As with Carmen and Mike’s encounter with Rick Ward, it was a pleasant visit between three former schoolmates of slightly different, but overlapping eras who spent an enjoyable and comfortable hour and a half sharing memories of who did what and where are they now. Michel brought his collection of L’Echos and Terry and I spent some time looking up old classmates. Illona was particularly amused by a photo of the junior boys basketball team circa 1961, which featured a much younger, more slender version of me (with considerably more hair) as one of the players and was delighted to have an opportunity to show Kenny a picture of his grandfather. He even stopped playing his new DS game for a few seconds to look at the picture with mild interest. Kenny eloquently summed up the meeting as we were walking back to our car by observing how great it had been to see me having so much fun telling stories and laughing with my friends.

Sorry for the low res cell phone image. Someone had a senior moment and left the digital camera back at the hotel.

As requested by Terry and Michel, I provide some photos from the action and the information that Kenny finished fifth overall in the Saturday tournament, despite fencing only a handful of times since last May. I suspect that the fencers he lost to were more experienced and older. He has another year in this age group, so maybe next time he'll make the podium, if he can manage to get used to the weird "canadian" instructions (en garde, pret, alle) at the beginning of each engagement.

a 3-2 loss in preliminaries to the eventual winner (Kenny at right)

A 3-0 drubbing of the biggest fencer in the competition

the yellow armband, which turns out to be a patch (ignore that it's upside down)

Posted by Don Ferguson at 3:09 PM EST
Updated: Monday, 27 November 2006 3:55 PM EST
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Thursday, 22 June 2006
After the Habs and the Wings (so shoot me, I have a soft spot for Stevie Y) got knocked out while LeBron and the Cavs and Steve Nash and the Suns were still alive in the NBA playoffs, I lost interest in the Stanley Cup games. But I did live in Edmonton for the better part of 10 years so I gave the finals a look. The last few games were worth it. Game 6 might have been a perfect game by the Oilers, but game 7 was a keeper despite the outcome. Quintessential hockey that reminded me of the college games I used to watch. A lot of skating and hitting with no clutching and grabbing or fights. Even in "the new nhl" it was apparent that defence and a hot goaltender win the cup. I much prefer this brand of hockey to the 9-8 wins that the Oilers put up when I lived in Edmonton in the 70s, or the deathly neutral zone traps of the Devils. Both teams should be proud of the show they put on and extra kudos to the Edmonton fans for singing the US national anthem before game 6. It was much appreciated down here.

US sports fans grow up indoctrinated by high scoring NBA, NFL and even to a certain extent baseball games in which grand slam homers produce 4 runs in one fell swoop. Many don't appreciate that the best hockey games might end with a final score of 1 nil. Great passing and lots of scoring chances, but wonderful goaltending and few goals. It's probably one of the reasons that World Cup 'football' has never caught on down here. The prevailing opinion, instigated and sustained by boorish, insular sports pundits, is that if the game ends in a 0 - 0 draw, then nothing happened, and it must have been boring. It's not enough to watch the unbelievable skills of the players and the patterns of the play. Fortunately, soccer thrives in the hispanic communities and I get to watch some of the games in Spanish - GOOOOAAAAAAALLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!! My fondness for this may explain why I still listen to hockey broadcasts in French every chance I get. The bland play-by-play on CJAD simply can't match: C'est Koivu avec la rondelle. Il lance, Il lance encore... IL CONNNTTE!!!

Kenny's recently become smitten by basketball. He's he's already at shoulder height on me even though he's not yet 10. If he continues on the growth charts as he has so far, he's going to be 6 foot something. We taught him how to do a lay up over the week end and he's started dribbling a ball left handed on our evening walks. The dog and the neighbours don't quite know what to make of it but some day it'll help him go to his left if he ever gets serious, eh?

I played pick-up against Kenny and my wife last night in the driveway. She lettered in soccer, track and field, and field hockey in college but fortunately for me she rode the pine on the hoops team. They made a game of it but despite being a couple of steps slower, I still got my jump shot. Victory in the twilight...

Summer evenings are great, aren't they?

Posted by Don Ferguson at 12:32 PM EDT
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Wednesday, 21 June 2006

Here it is the first day of Summer. I guess I'm still feeling a bit fellered out. It seems I'm not the only one, but I have a recommendation.

I drove in to work today listening to the new Dixie Chicks CD, Taking the Long Way, that I got as a Father's Day present from Kenny. I'm not a big country music fan, but I went out and purchased their last CD, Home, on March 15th, 2003. I remember the date because I thought it ironic that I was doing so on the Ides of March. I'll leave it to you all to figure out why I decided to get the CD that particular week when the only other Country album I've ever purchased was something by Jerry Jeff Walker so I could learn how to play Mr. Bojangles.

I highly recommend Home, I still listen to it on a regular basis, the song Travellin Soldier can still bring a tear to my eye, and their cover of Landslide is suberb. The new CD is almost as good; I'm sure it will grow on me after a few listenings, the way good stuff always does, and I surely do love fiddle and banjo music. A few of the songs already give me chills and the message conveyed by the last song, I hope, is timeless. Some of the songs have a bit of an edge, some might call the lyrics confrontational, but I prefer to think of them as spunky. Natalie Maine's voice is pure country, but the music is more mainstream than you might imagine and both CDs are keepers. Anyway, how often do you get to make a statement of support and get something worth listening to at the same time. Things like Alice's Restaurant don't come around that often.

Speaking of which, I wish I knew a way to end Bush's war, before Kenny gets drafted. We've passed 2500 young men and women killed and the new press secretary says it's just a number. Karl Rove, fresh from weaseling out from under some well-deserved jail time, is out and about calling patriotic democrats who question Bush's failed policies, cowards. Were I ever in a fight and I had to choose between John Murtha and John Kerry or Bush, Cheney, Rove and all the other loud mouth neo-cons, I know who I'd want covering my back.

Peace be with you

Posted by Don Ferguson at 12:37 PM EDT
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Saturday, 24 September 2005

Early in September I heard one of the evangelical leaders suggest that Katrina was retribution for the godlessness of the big easy (there had been a large gay meeting planned for the near future).

Then W proclaimed September the 14th as a national day of prayer and remembrance.

Soon after that the gulf coast was blessed with Rita!

This caused me to wonder if there was a possible alternative explanation.

At this point, one might have to entertain the notion that if a diety is behind the storms, it might be Allah.

On the other hand, I'm not such a great fan of intelligent design so perhaps Blofeld has finally perfected SPECTRE's weather machine and we should soon expect a ransom note.

Or maybe it's just a co-incidence. After all, if we are to believe the Bush administration, and heaven knows they rarely get things wrong, the evidence is still out on global warming, so a rise in ocean temperatures can't possibly be affecting the weather, right?

Posted by Don Ferguson at 2:47 PM EDT
Updated: Monday, 26 September 2005 1:24 PM EDT
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Wednesday, 9 February 2005
Science and Spirits
Yikes. I didn't realize how long it had been. I know that I said I was working on a couple of things that I'd try to post soon, but soon has clearly come and gone and I still haven?t finished either of them. Still, it has been too long an interlude so I?ve thrown something together to show you what?s been keeping me busy.

This is an old photo but still one of my favourites.

I guess the fact that family time takes precedence over blogging is a given, but for the last few years I?ve been able to work in the alumni web stuff without too much difficulty. However, since early December something in the lab has been sopping up every millisecond of my "free" time, (I hope you'll excuse a bit of personal horn tooting.)

You now can count yourself among the handful of people who have ever seen data such as the squiggle to the left. In case it wasn't immediately obvious, the trace is a recording of the force generated by thin strands of muscle surrounding some rather small bronchioles. It may not seem impressive, but it truly is. For one thing, the spikes represent changes in tension of approximately 10 microNewtons (1 ?N = 0.001 milligram). Furthermore, the contractions were initiated in muscles that envelop the tiniest air passages deep within the lung by triggering the release of intrinsic chemicals.

Yawn, so what's the big deal, and why should anyone care? Well, up until now, every investigator who has performed experiments of this nature has initiated contractions by hosing down a chunk of lung tissue with copious quantities of fluid, containing industrial strength concentrations of the naturally-occurring activators (or their man-made equivalents), and/or whatever drugs they happen to be testing. The relevance of their studies to the events that actually occur in the body was uncertain, at best. Using a novel approach we've been able to more closely approximate physiologically natural conditions because, as I note above, we are using the lung's built-in activating mechanisms. Given the unique possibilities this approach provides for examining the factors that regulate airway caliber in normal and diseased lungs, we are now putting in 12 - 16 hour days exploiting the heck out of the preparation before we tell other labs about it. As a consequence, as you?ve seen, the posts here may not be frequent, and when they do come, it will likely be in spurts, in the downtime when we pause to analyze the data.

That was the science, now for the spirits (ethereal rather than alcoholic).

To keep things crawling along (and to perhaps relieve the creeping malaise of boredom that exists on the other public sites) I've resurrected and reworked something out of my files.

I believe that there is a difference between religion and spirituality. I'm not particularly religious but I do acknowledge that there are some apparently supernatural phenomena that I can't readily explain. So, although my beliefs have been shaped by my daily use of the scientific method, I am forced to keep an open mind.

Recently, a couple of things had me thinking about spirits. The first is the oft-shown ad for The Village, which contains scenes from The Sixth Sense. The second is the new TV show Medium, which I've watched a couple of times with my wife and found to be somewhat intriguing science fiction/fantasy. The common thread is that the protagonist sees ghosts. Now I don't exactly believe in ghosts, on the other hand, I find that I'm not able to completely disbelieve in them. Anyway, I was reminded of several anecdotes I'd previously written up but never quite finished and I present them below.

In college, I knew someone who claimed to live in a haunted house, and described numerous encounters with a particularly grumpy old specter. Of course that was the late sixties, so if you are thinking hallucinogens, and want to take his tales with a grain of salt, I won't be offended.

In my own experience I've only seen one phantom and I'm not sure that it counts. It was the ghost of a beloved 18-year-old cat we?d had to put down to end the suffering caused by intestinal cancer. If pressed, I would have to admit that, although I saw the apparition several times during the 18 months we lived in the house subsequent to his death, it was also true that I had held him in my arms while the vet euthanized him, so the specter was quite possibly a guilt-driven interpretation of shadows at the edge of my peripheral vision. However, deep down I'm not able to completely convince myself of that.

I currently know someone who seems to have "the sight". Several times he has matter-of-factly come out with, well, not exactly predictions, but statements of fact, that have come true soon afterward, e.g., there's going to be a car accident. And, at least on some level, he appears to have an awareness of what can best be described as ghosts, or perhaps spirits. He?s doesn't appear to be using these "powers" to serve any ulterior purpose. His pronouncements are too ingenuous and matter-of-fact and he seems to believe what he says. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that his predictions are just coincidence and his visions the products of an over-active imagination, again there's still a tiny part of me that's not certain. As they say, once is an accident, twice is co-incidence but three times is a trend. With this guy, we?re somewhat beyond the trend phase and edging into the realm of a phenomenon.

Perhaps the most disconcerting experiences I've had along these lines had to do with a brief flirtation with Ouija boards.

A couple of people in the crowd I hung out with in college got interested in these things and had a few "seances". If you're not familiar with Ouija boards, the one we used was hand made from a rectangular piece of hardwood that had been sanded so the surface was smooth and even. On the surface of the board, our hosts had inscribed a YES on one end and a NO on the other. The alphabet was displayed as two rows of 13 letters and the numbers 1 - 0 were below the alphabet. At the bottom of the board was the word GOODBYE. To "receive" a message from the beyond, an upturned, porcelain saucer with an arrow painted at the edge was used as a pointer. Two people sat on opposite sides of the board and placed their fingers lightly on the edge of the saucer. During the session the saucer moved around answering yes our no, or spelling out messages.

For me, and I expect for most of the rest of the people involved, it began as a lark. My first and only visit, I stood to one side as the hosts sat at the board and linked up with the spirit world (they'd read how in a book). The saucer skittered around, answering yes or no in response to people's increasingly silly questions. The yes or no stuff soon became a bit boring (to me the whole rigmarole seemed to be an elaborate production roughly equivalent to answering questions with a magic eight ball). I guess my hosts agreed because they called up a new spirit and invited it to speak freely.

The "visitor" spelled out a message in which it claimed to be a young girl named Sally, who was 9 years old, and had lived in the house. The conversation was rather disjointed because the words hot, burning, so hot, and other semi-coherent things along these lines, were repeated over and over. Some of the less skeptical members of the circle speculated that the girl had lived in the house and had died in a fire. Since I'd spent a lot of time in the sturdy brick Victorian house and had seen no obvious signs that there had ever been a fire, I remained unconvinced.

After a while, Sally's repetitiveness became frustrating and the hosts dismissed her. They asked if anyone else wanted to be a "medium". The prettiest girl in the room said yes, and for reasons other than a strong belief in the paranormal, I immediately volunteered to be her partner. After we had placed our hands on the inert saucer, they again dialed up the spirit world. Immediately, there was a change in the feel of the saucer. It seemed to take on an energy of its own and I was quite surprised by its apparently spontaneous movements. My arms and hands were completely relaxed and it really felt as if it were hovering slightly above the board's surface and tugging my hands with it as it moved around. In response to a question about who the message was for, the saucer spelled out tanya, the name of one of the girls in the room. It then moved laboriously from letter to letter spitting out gibberish which someone copied down. After a couple of minutes, Tanya sighed and grabbed my arm to break off "contact". She then took the pencil and used hash marks to split the gibberish up into "words". She claimed that the message was in Russian, her native tongue, and although she refused to tell us what the message said, she did indicate that it was from her brother, Aleksy, who had died several years before. None of us knew she had a brother, let alone one named Aleksy, which, in fact, was one of the words in the message, so I was rather unnerved and immediately gave up my spot.

The festivities continued with someone asking who in the group would be the first to die and the saucer literally flew off the table. We thought that to be interesting but inconclusive so the question was asked again and after moving around frantically the saucer spelled out Ana, which was, in fact, the name of a girl standing close to the spot at which the saucer had flown off the table a few moments earlier. Very twilight zone stuff, isn?t it? Someone pursued this by asking when (74) and then how (gibberish, later someone quietly pointed out to me that within the nonsense letters was the name of Ana?s fiance). In response to the follow up question of who would be the last to die, the spirit spelled out my name (I grudgingly have to admit that, despite my initial skepticism, this was something of a relief). I do remember thinking to myself that I'd have to keep in touch with Ana to see if she survived past 1974 which would mean I was in good shape since there would be 50+ years left until she would be 74. She did indeed make it all the way through 1974, but she and her husband left Kingston about the same time I did (August 1975). At that point, I lost track of them and also of most of the other participants, so I have no way of knowing whether the prediction is still a possibility. I?m still sputtering along, so here's hoping. Most of the group kept at it for a while, but I was unsettled by what had happened and I'd had enough, so I left. I didn't have any great urge to communicate with anyone, and I was just superstitious enough that I didn't want to risk having any spirits delving into the recesses of my mind and revealing my deep dark secrets to the rest of the group.

What I've described would have been creepy enough, but a few days later I bumped into one of the hosts in the Student Union. He told me that the day after our session they had gone up and down the street asking about fires and met an old man 90+ years old, who had lived on the street his whole life. My friend reported that the old man had told them that he couldn?t remember any fire, but that one of his playmates, a little girl named Sally, lived in that house and she had died of scarlet fever in 1905. After that I?d truly had more than enough. Although they had several other sessions, I never participated.

As I write about these events over 30 years later, I have realized that there are several plausible alternate explanations that I didn't consider at the time. It's entirely possible that the old man was a fabrication and since none of us spoke Russian it's also possible that Tanya was pulling our legs, with my partner as her accomplice.

On the other hand, that saucer really hovered and I did not detect any obvious tension in my counterpart's fingers so I still retain this tiny shred of uncertainty?

Posted by Don Ferguson at 2:13 PM EST
Updated: Thursday, 10 February 2005 10:45 AM EST
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Tuesday, 4 January 2005

May 25, 2002

Visitors to our National parks are hereby advised that the number of encounters between hikers and bears has increased in recent years.

When traveling to more remote areas, hikers are encouraged to attach noisemaking devices such as small bells to their clothing to alert bears to their presence, thereby avoiding confrontations between humans and startled bears. Hikers are also encouraged to carry pepper spray to act as a deterrent in the event of an unavoidable encounter with a bear.

Visitors are further encouraged to stay alert for fresh signs indicating the presence of bears in the area in which they are hiking. Hikers are especially encouraged to ensure that they can distinguish between the spoor of the common black bear and that of grizzlies. Black bear droppings are slightly larger than those of humans and frequently contain berries and squirrel fur. Grizzly droppings are much larger, often contain small bells and may have a faint odour of cayenne.

There?s a back story to this.

The e-mail I originally received had a version of this joke that was written in French. I wracked my brain and was able to piece together the meaning. Because it was a bit of a struggle, it took a while to get to the last sentence, but when I did, I just about fell off my chair. I was so amused by it that I spent the better part of half an hour in stitches putting together most of what you read above. Then I spent the rest of the day spluttering and giggling uncontrollably whenever I remembered the punch line. It doesn?t seem as funny to me as I read it now, but then I guess the last line no longer has the element of surprise.

That evening, for accuracy?s sake, I went on-line to get some idea about the relative sizes of black bear and grizzly spoor. After all, I wouldn?t want to be posting a joke about, for example, a certain type of train service and include a picture of the wrong style of engine. My google search did not provide me with that information on any of the first 3 or 4 pages of hits, but what it did lead me to were no fewer than a dozen English language websites that had variations on the joke that I had painstakingly translated. I like my version better, but it did provide a lesson in how pervasive the internet is, among other things?

Posted by Don Ferguson at 2:09 PM EST
Updated: Tuesday, 4 January 2005 2:16 PM EST
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Well that was a wonderful holiday.

Christmas morning was a lot of fun. My son got enough of what he wanted to shore up his faith in Santa, as well as a few inexpensive gifts that he really loved. He was exuberantly and sincerely grateful which helped to counteract my vague feelings that he was being spoiled. My wife and I got eachother several things that we wanted. Hers were mostly what she expected, but mine were unexpected and wonderfully appropriate. Either she?s a better hinter than I am, or she?s more imaginative. Probably a bit of both.

I've been picking away on a couple of new posts but wasn't able to make much headway over the break. Perhaps now that I'm back in my routine, I'll find some time to finish them.

In the meantime, someone passed this joke along to me from The Really Old Guy's Not So Funny Jokes collection.

What's the difference between the Vietnam War and the war in Iraq?

George W. Bush had a strategy for getting out of the Vietnam War.

Posted by Don Ferguson at 12:11 PM EST
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Monday, 20 December 2004

Yesterday, I took my son Kenny, who was 8 in September, to a party where someone we didn?t know was dressed up as Santa Claus.

This year he?s been struggling to hold on to his belief in the existence of Santa Claus. I know this because one day a couple of months ago he asked some questions about whether Santa Claus was real and from the way he asked, it was apparent that some of the older kids at school had been messing with his mind. [Was I as open a book to my parents as he is to me? Probably I was, and if so, they were a lot more clever, and tolerant, than I gave them credit for. This is not the first time I?ve been obliged to confront this reality.]

We fended off the questions as best we could, which I thought was rather lamely considering how clever Kenny is, and the matter lay there poorly-resolved. He never sought a better explanation, which was somewhat surprising given how tenaciously he usually pursues a fuzzy answer (I wonder where he got that from?). I?m assuming he decided to let well-enough alone and as December 25th approaches he is clearly back in the believer column. He showed absolutely no doubts when sitting on Santa?s lap at the party asking him for all manner of Yu Gi Oh cards and video games (all of which we already had, so thankfully we don?t have to rush out in a mad frenzy and try to find them on shelves that have been stripped bare by the hordes of shoppers who preceded us). Sadly, this is likely the last year we will see Christmas through a believer?s eyes, so I plan to intensely enjoy every millisecond of Saturday morning. I believe that I felt this way last year, but I'm thankful I was granted a year's reprieve from reality.

While writing this I?ve been reflecting on my own experiences with Santa Clause. Kenny?s been doing a pretty good job of suspending disbelief, but I really had to work at it. When we lived in Montreal, my father played Santa at 3 or 4 church and community gatherings every year. I willingly accepted the story my parents concocted; something along the lines of "Santa can't be everywhere at once, so he has a lot of helpers". I vaguely remember believing that this festively-uniformed army of foot soldiers kept track of every kid?s wish and passed it on to Santa. I must have been a very willing co-conspirator to overlook the blatant inconsistencies of the tale. I don?t think I ever questioned why I had to tell my father's Santa persona what I wanted several times AND write a letter to Santa AND tell the 'real' Santa (the one at Eaton?s St. Catherine?s Street store) what I wanted. I don?t believe that I was that credulous, rather I would like to think I was just clever enough to understand that some legends will not stand up to much probing. I do sort of remember trying to be on my best behaviour in light of the naive belief that dad had a direct line to Santa.

I was able to steadfastly maintain my gullibility in this matter until a few weeks before the Christmas when I was Kenny?s age. My friend's mother overheard me gushing about what I had asked Santa for, and took it upon herself to bring me back to reality by asking me flat out if I still really believed in Santa Claus. This was followed by a longish pause while I got over being taken aback and finally stammered out "uhh no?". Not satisfied with this stifling of my imagination she pursued the matter by asking me who I thought actually brought the gifts that allegedly came from Santa. Less of a pause as I quietly admitted that I knew it was my parents. I don?t know why she thought that she had any right to impose her standards of the appropriate age for a child to give up on believing in a harmless myth on me, but clearly she did. I?ve always been a bit annoyed when recalling this incident, and I?ve obviously not completely forgiven her for interfering, even after the better part of 50 years. I suppose I just would have preferred to not have such an important defining moment unnecessarily thrust upon me.

We usually don't get a chance to revisit such unresolved issues, but, believe it, or not, there?s an outside chance that the lady in question is reading this. In case you are, what were you thinking?

Posted by Don Ferguson at 1:59 PM EST
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