Month: March 2017

By Jim Hagarty
Renowned Terrible Limeericker

I once had a cute little gnat,
You probably didn’t know that.
He was cuddly and small
And he sure had it all
But he died as upon him I sat.

Stratford musician Tom Waschkowski performed a cover of Jackson Browne’s Road and the Sky on his solo CD A Crow By My Door, released in 2015. A lifelong musician, record producer and concert promoter, Tom recorded 12 songs for this album, seven of them self-penned. The CD is available in the Corner Store along with an autobiography Tom released at the same time as the launch of A Crow By My Door.

Road and the Sky by Tom Waschkowski

(If the song doesn’t play on the main page of the blog, click on the large song title which will take you to the page where the song is located. It will play properly there.)

By Jim Hagarty
2017

You might have to juggle three balls in the air at once to follow this, but I’ll try my best to make it easy for you.

Last week, I went to my dental office to pay a bill. While at the front counter, a dental hygienist in scrubs appeared and I called out to her. “Rebecca,” I yelled. She corrected me. Her name was Amanda. “You cleaned my teeth in January and told me to buy an electric toothbrush but I forgot what kind.” She very nicely gave me her recommendation, though she seemed a bit hesitant.

Back to the dentist for another cleaning I went today, and when the hygienist in scrubs came to the waiting room to get me, I said, “Hi Amanda,” very proud to have gotten the name right this time. “My name is Michelle,” she replied. I explained my previous visit and conversation with the phantom hygienist. “There is an Amanda here,” explained Michelle.

I dutifully reclined in the dentist’s chair and Michelle got to work. At times, the inside of my 66-year-old mouth looks like an abandoned warehouse, with windows broken and graffiti everywhere. I felt sorry for her but she soldiered on. She is a brave soul, I will give her that much.

I enjoyed Rebecca/Amanda/Michelle during our first encounter in January. We talked about our kids and she seemed to enjoy my sense of humour. Anyone who makes the mistake of laughing at something I say is just asking for it, so I like her but I have no sympathy for her. She would get what she deserved.

Suddenly, my smartphone went off, as someone had sent me a text message.

“Quack, quack, quack, quack,” went the phone, loudly repeating the alert sound I had chosen for texts.

“Sorry,” I said to RAM. “I’ve got a duck in my pocket.”

She seemed to like that so I was compelled to follow it up.
When she took a break, I continued, “Its name is Clarence.”

A few seconds later, four more quacks.

“It’s noon,” said my hygienist. “Is Clarence getting hungry?” I like people who humour me when I am humouring them.

However, the fun would come to an end when she found a broken tooth among the flotsam and jetsam inside my gob. She decided it needed to be fixed and I agreed. When the cleaning was done, I was ushered into another room and lay myself down on another reclining chair.

A dentist came in, asked how I was doing, and proceeded to inject some cement into the hole left by the broken tooth. Then he left. He was replaced by what I am assuming was a dental assistant who tightened a big clamp around the cement to form it up, sort of like two by fours holding a freshly poured sidewalk together. Meanwhile, another woman stuck a small vacuum in my mouth to suck up the fluids so the cement could set.

While all this was going on, Clarence started quacking again so I repeated the joke that I had told Rebecca/Amanda/Michelle. Not as much hilarity ensued as had broken out the first time I told it, but it was a six out of ten.

Finally done, I staggered up to the main counter to settle my bill and I asked the woman there, “Have you got anybody else who would like to take a whack at me?” When she said she didn’t, I said, “Surely there are two or three more people who would like to have a go.” But there weren’t.

Finally, Clarence and I went home.

We don’t get out much.

My friend and fellow blogger Al Bossence (thebayfieldbunch.com) captured this photo of a bird looking for lunch on a tree trunk near Al’s home in Huron County in southern Ontario, Canada, this week.

By Jim Hagarty
2017

So I was asked to look after a pet mouse.

A couple of things wrong there for a boy who grew up on a farm. Back then, when my Dad told me to look after an animal, we both knew exactly what that meant, especially if the creature in question had rodentiary qualities.

The other problem arises with the word “pet” in such close proximity to the word “mouse”. On the farm, we didn’t really have pets. We would have a dozen or so cats at any given time but they weren’t allowed in the house and you couldn’t catch half of them. And they had a very important job to do which was to keep the mouse population down. They were the original experts at looking after the mice.

We did have a dog from time to time but even they never saw the inside of our home.

Among the only other animals to befriend were the raccoons and we were strictly forbidden to do that because those suckers could mess up a kid badly if they took a notion. We were all repeatedly warned that raccoons are members of the wolverine family. And wolverines are mean as hell.

That left our cattle and while it is possible to make a pet out of a steer (a neutered bull), it was not advisable. Not because those guys were nasty; just the opposite. They could be very friendly. The trouble was, when a thousand-pound animal decides he wants to play with you, he can squash you like a bug, as he is unaware of the power differential.

So word from Dad was that we were not to be too friendly with the livestock. The other issue was, cattle are very curious, kind of like cats and pigs. And if they see a boy walking across a field, a hundred of them might decide to stampede in your direction. They mean you no harm just in the same way I never mean to step on an ant as I am strolling down a sidewalk. But any caution they might normally exercise, they abandon in the middle of a stampede.

But times change and here I am looking after a pet mouse. His name is Mendel and I have to admit, he’s darned cute. However, here is how far the farm is in my rear-view mirror now. Mendel is kept in his cage in the bathtub in the upstairs bathroom, the door to which is closed to prevent our cats from wandering in and giving the wee rodent a backrub with their claws.

So here are my worries lately. I worry about Mendel being lonely, cut off as he is from all the other beings who populate the house. So I go into the bathroom now and then to chat him up. He seems to like it. But I never really stop worrying about his mental state. I don’t know what my Dad would say if he were here today and I told him I was worried about how lonely the mouse we are keeping in our bathtub might be. Among the worries my Dad had over his lifetime, especially trying to feed and clothe a family of seven kids, the quality of life of the mice that roamed our property was not one of them.

The other thing that is a concern to me about Mendel is the darkness into which the bathroom is plunged when the sun goes down. I hope the wee guy doesn’t get scared. So, a small lamp has been placed on the back of the toilet to brighten up his atmosphere. I also keep the heat in the house turned up as it can get a bit chilly in the bathroom when the door is closed.

If I was to break all this news to him, my Dad would surely disown me. To find out that his son, who he raised as well as he could, now spends a part of his days concerned about the emotional well-being of a mouse would be too much for him.

So I think I would try to keep it from him that for a few weeks over the Christmas holidays, we were also blessed with two rats to care for. I didn’t fret very much about these two guys who stand as tall as beer bottles, however, as they had each other for company and warmth.

One of the things I have left behind me over the years is the notion that humans are the ultimate in creation. I tend to think of us now as all part of the hodge podge of all creatures great and small.

Mendel and I don’t have a lot in common, it would seem, except maybe for our will to live.

And perhaps that is enough reason to care.

Tom Waschkowski is a musician’s musician who has spent decades performing in rock bands, writing and recording. He has also dedicated many years to producing records for other artists, including for me. I recorded two albums of original songs in Tom’s studio in the early ’80s. In 2014/15, Tom was back in the studio to create A Crow By My Door, a fascinating collection of seven self-penned songs and five covers of the material of others. The CD runs the course from tempestuous to tender, as a variety of Stratford and area musicians contributed their talents to this offering. Featured here is one of Tom’s original songs, The Draw. On the recording, Tom contributes bass, accordion and string arrangements as well as vocals. The CD is available in the Corner Store.

The Draw by Tom Waschkowski

(If the song doesn’t play on the main page of the blog, click on the large song title above the CD cover image which will take you to the page where the song is located. It will play properly there.)