Life’s Like That

FROM THE 1970s

The party was getting under way, and our hostess, who had never before opened a bottle of champagne, was struggling with the cork. It popped out suddenly, dousing the gown of one guest. The hostess was completely flustered until the soaking-wet woman saved the day by announcing gaily, “At last – I’ve been launched!”

MEGAN ADAMS, RD NOVEMBER 1970

Scavenging the beach after a crowded holiday weekend is always an exciting adventure for my three youngsters. We live on a cliff overlooking a small cove, and after one such weekend my two boys burst into the kitchen with grins from ear to ear.

“Look what I found, Mum!” shouted John, holding up one wet swim fin.

“I found a volleyball!” shrieked my ten-year-old.

My six-year-old daughter was late, and came in quietly. “And what did you find, dear?” I encouraged. “A ring? A bracelet?”

“No, Mummy,” she smiled as another girl followed her in.

“I found a friend.”

MRS B. NEWMAN, RD NOVEMBER 1970

We are the proud owners of a huge Saint Bernard dog. My father, who is in the restaurant business, often brings home large beef bones for the dog to chew on. In fact, our backyard is strewn with these bones.

One day, over the back fence, our neighbour was showing his elderly father our Saint Bernard. “Will he bite?” asked the older man.

Told that he would not, the father asked suspiciously, “Well, then, whose remains are those in the yard?”

KATHLEEN STURDIVANT, RD NOVEMBER 1970

Our firm frequently purchases advertising space in the local alternative (hippie) newspaper, and almost always we are confused when we receive our monthly bill. Recently, our accountant decided to get to the bottom of the situation and called the paper’s ‘minister of advertising’.

“How can you send us three separate accounts for three different amounts, when we ran three identical ads?” he asked.

“Our rates,” replied the hip adman coolly, “vary with the changing of the moon.”

TONI TUCKER, RD NOVEMBER 1970

At the dinner table one evening our teenage daughter was telling us about a film she had seen at school. “It was on mental and emotional health,” she said.

“And can you tell us,” I asked teasingly, “the exact difference between ‘mental’ and ‘emotional’ health?”

“Well,” she replied, “the way I see it, mental health is how you feel about geometry; emotional health is how you feel about the boy who sits next to you in geometry.”

GUTHRIE JANSSEN, RD NOVEMBER 1970

Being a working mother, I am aware there are things in our home I tend to overlook. Recently, my 11-year-old son told me he had gained full marks for an essay entitled ‘My Home’.

Embarrassed, I read: “I wake up in the morning just as the sun’s rays are reaching the windowsill. I lie there until they shine on the big spider’s web in the corner of my bedroom, and then I know it’s time to get up.”

MRS V. A STEIN, RD SEPTEMBER 1977

I was on a bus in a rural area, seated directly behind the driver. All at once my eyes caught a gaggle of blue-grey geese in the front yard of a farm property. They seemed to be straining towards the highway, charged with excitement. As we went by, the driver gave three short beeps on his horn. At that instant, there was a wild flapping of wings from the geese and a jubilant chorus of greetings.

“Were those geese waiting for you?” I asked the driver.

“That’s right,” he smiled. “Every morning, there they are. I honk at them. They honk at me. It makes my day.”

VIOLA AUGUST, RD SEPTEMBER 1977