Dear Kid,

Speaking of Newfoundland (you do remember that’s what we’re talking about, right?),St. John’s is the capital of the province and the oldest city in North America. John Cabot landed there 1497 and by the early 1500 it was a thriving metropolis (and by “thriving metropolis” I mean established outpost).

As we learned yesterday, the Vikings arrived first (even before C. Columbus) but apparently didn’t care for the neighborhood (because they didn’t stay to greet John Cabot and Company).

All kinds of interesting things happened in St. John’s. For example, the first non-stop, trans-Atlantic flight took off from St. John’s (it landed in Ireland, but that’s not what we’re talking about today).

Mr. Guglielmo Marconi (yes, that Marconi) received the first transatlantic wireless message on Signal Hill in St John on December 12, 1901. (The test signal was sent from Poldhu, Cornwall, 3,200 kilometers away but that’s not what we’re talking about.)

It’s cold in St. John (so take a coat). The lowest temp ever recorded there was-18.1 C (-1 F) on March 9, 1997. The place still hasn’t thawed out.

Do you know what the oldest continuous sporting event in N America is? No, it is not Black Friday shopping. It is the St. John’s regatta which is held on the 1st Wednesday of August (appropriate apparel includes parkas, mittens, and Uggs.

The airport in St. John’s is a BFD. At one time (right around the time of the dinosaurs or possibly the 1940s and 1950s), it was the busiest airport in the world. Turns out that most planes couldn’t make the transatlantic flight from NYC to London without refueling. Since there aren’t any gas stations mid-Atlantic, planes would stop at Gander International Airport (airport code YQX—go figure) to refuel.

Gander played an important role on the World Stage in 2001 when 39 aircraft were diverted to there on 9/11. Over 6,000 people were “adopted” by the citizens of St. John, proving once again that Canadians are much nicer than most humans. (The travelers remained there for three days until airspace reopened.)

So, just in case you’re traveling northward, have a wonderful and safe trip.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

If you’re a well-traveled person, having visited all 50 of These Here United States, you might look around and think “what next?” And you might be bold enough to answer yourself, “How about all the provinces in Canada?”

You might then contemplate your past travel and realize that while you’ve been to many of the provinces, you’ve never been to Newfoundland. And then you might book tickets pronto.

In case any of that happened to you (or to anyone you might happen to know), you might want to learn a bit about Newfoundland before you go. If you’re not the one going, you might wish to learn about Newfoundland anyway.

Fortunately, I am here to help (you are so lucky to have me!).

Newfoundland (please pronounce the end as “land” not “lund”) is officially Newfoundland and Labrador (yes, the dogs were named for them). 94% of the population lives on Newfoundland–Labrador is bigger, but not so populated. Newfoundland was its own country until 1949 when it joined the Maple Leaf.

Fabulous Bizarre Fact #1: Saint Pierre and Miquelon is physically within the province of N&L but is officially part of France. Two countries for the price of one!

Fabulous Bizarre Fact #2: N&L is so cool it has its own time zone–and it’s one of the super cool time zones that is 30 minutes different than its neighbors.

Newfoundland is an island (a big one, but still an island). It also has a weird sense of humor when it comes to naming cities: Conception Bay, Heart’s Desire, Heart’s Content, Dildo (you get the idea).

Newfoundland and Labrador has its own dictionary because the language and dialect are so diverse (I am not making that part up). Maybe those city names mean something different in their dictionary.

Fabulous Bizarre Fact #3: Christopher Columbus was not the first European Dude to discover North America. Turns out the Vikings wandered into L’ase aux Meadows at the very northern tip of the island waaaay before C’bus ever thought about getting his passport stamped.

Speaking of things that aren’t right in the history books, it turns out the Germans landed in North America during WWII. In Newfoundland and Labrador. On October 22, 1943, a German sub landed on Marin Bay and set up a remote weather station. Did you ever learn about that in school? Neither did I.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

My pillow and I must have had Some Kind of argument during the night because I woke up looking like Medusa–on steroids–this morning.

What is it about nocturnal hair-dos that guarantees the look of Hot Mess? Hair-dos that overnight become hair-don’ts.

Normally my hair and I get along overnight. I sleep fairly calmly, my hair does whatever hair does during the night, and a few brushstrokes later all is well with the world. Or at least my hair is somewhat presentable.

Not last night. I don’t have a clue what happened, but it wasn’t pretty. Certainly the after effects weren’t pretty. And it took about 700 hours to work out the snarls (none of which existed prior to bedtime).

I did not enjoy the undoing of the hair disaster.

So I’m going to try to sleep more sedately tonight.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Whatever you are doing, stop it.

Right now. Stop.

Unless you’re taking an exam, in which case why are you reading this?

Whatever you are doing can wait.

What can’t wait is backing up your computer files.

“What,” I hear you asking, “is making you say this in such strong terms at this particular moment in time?”

The black screen of death is making me say this, that’s what.

As in, there I was, typing happily, working away, enjoying a fine, sunny Sunday afternoon when … nothing. I looked at the screen. It did not look back. I said, “Huh?”

The Puppy looked up from his nap. The computer did not.

So I did the normal thing and pushed the power button.

On came the computer. Mind you, it had reset itself and I lost the last 17 minutes of work, but compared to losing a whole computer, it was ok. I was calm, peace was restored in the world. I went back to work and the Puppy went back to napping.

For 6 and a half minutes.

At which time the screen went dead blank again. Rinse and repeat, I thought. So I pushed the power button.

Nothing happened.

I tried again.

Nothing continued to happen.

So I did all the normal things a person does when a laptop is causing problems. You’d have been so proud of me–I did not freak out. I unplugged and replugged everything. I took out and reinstalled the battery. I did the chicken dance.

Nothing.

“Leave it alone for a bit.” said Dad. “Eat lunch. Then try.”

This did not seem like very good technical advice, but it seemed like excellent mid-day low blood sugar level advice.

And after lunch, magically, nothing continued to happen.

I remained calm, cool, and collected.

The power remained stubbornly off.

Dad tried to turn it on.

The power continued to remain stubbornly off.

“I hate to say this, kiddo,” Dad said to me, “but I think you’re going to need to take a drive.”

Of course, by “take a drive” he meant head to MicroCenter and part with major dollars.

I sighed and followed his advice.

At MicroCenter, I first went to the place where they help you figure things out, but they were busy Having A Seminar, so I headed out to the sales floor where I found a helpful person (and by helpful person I mean a 12 year old who spoke in ones and zeros but seemed able to tolerate me). “Do you know what this is?” I asked him holding out my bag.

“A bag with a computer in it?” he asked tentatively.

“A very expensive paperweight,” I said. I explained the situation. He politely asked to look at the computer. I handed it to him, and right there in broad daylight without surgical gloves or anything, he proceeded to take all of the laptop’s insides out. He then gave me a rundown of what I had, of which I understood not a word. “Huh?” I said going back to my reliable standby.

We looked at computers. I made a selection. All was good.

Except there were some files on the paperweight that I REALLY needed. “What about Carbonite?” you ask. Yeah, well, I’m not sure it’s running quite right. I’ve been meaning to call about that.

So I walked over to the We Can Help You With That Area.

I explained the entire situation to a guy in a Snoopy tie. He sympathized. He took the paperweight. He plugged it in. Nothing. He took out the battery and tried again. Voila! Power.

Well, I thought, if it’s as simple as all that, I can leave and get what I need in the comfort of my own home.

Home I went. I took out the battery. I plugged the machine in. I pressed the power button. Nothing. I tried repeatedly. I started teaching the Puppy new words that he probably shouldn’t repeat in public. Ab. So. Lutely Nothing.

Dad took his life in his hands and suggested I return to MicroCenter. (He was right; I just didn’t want to.)

After several minutes of quality whining, I took my stubborn self and my stubborn laptop and headed back.

Snoopy-tie guy had gone home for the day (sad face) but Other Dude was there. He plugged it in. He pushed the power button. And, lo, there was power. (What IS it with these guys??)

The Summary: My ancient and wobbly computer has been replaced. It is possible to get it to turn on if you place it gently on a table and mutter the correct voodoo. And have some luck. I’ve transferred the Incredibly Important Files to a flash drive. I have a new laptop.

And no humans were hurt in the process.

So go back up your Important Files so you too can remain calm in the face of a Death Defying Crisis.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

The human skeletal system is an amazing thing. You already knew that. And it takes a lot to break one of the bones in your body. You knew that too. Which clearly means that those who break bones must be extraordinary overachievers.

(One could point out that they should stop achieving so much but one is much more polite than that.)

Being the kind of mom that I am (you are so lucky), I am thoughtfully providing you with an advanced study guide regarding bones.

Q: What should you do if you think you’ve broken a bone?

A: Milk the situation for all it’s worth.

Q: What’s the biggest mistake you can make once you have a broken bone?

A: Do not repeat the action that caused you to break it—not even to demonstrate to medical professionals what happened. Because it will hurt.

Q: Which bone is the most painful if broken?

A: The one you just broke (obviously).

Q: How much does a broken bone cost?

A: That depends what you mean. If you are asking how much it costs to have someone break a bone for you, the answer is it happens all the time in movies and crime books, but I’ve never seen an add on Craig’s List for Bone Breaking—20% off.

If you mean how much does it cost to have a broken bone repaired, the short answer is A LOT. This is ‘Murica and we believe in charging for medical attention. The longer answer is it depends on your insurance (see: ‘Murica) and which bone you were clever enough to damage.

Q: How long will it take my broken bone to heal?

A: That depends. If it’s a bone in your foot it might already be your heel in which case you’ll need to be very careful talking to your medical provider. In general, you will be given the freedom to do whatever you want (medically speaking) one week after The Big Event you wanted to look great for.

In summary, try to leave your bones in tact.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

I was casting around for a topic for today (there are no unauthorized wild animals living in the house at the moment).

Inspiration was not swimming in the pool I was casting in, or if it was I missed it.

So I started poking around my computer and found a bunch of letters I’d written to you when you were a wee thing and were away at camp.

I read a few of them, and I have to say there is nothing brilliant there (at least in the ones I read). They were mostly ramblings about whatever I was doing (or not) at the time, what the Puppy was doing (or not) at the time, and what we were having (or not) for dinner.

So basically a lot like this blog except without the references to Mrs. Joe Neanderthal.

But the letters made me smile. Not because our dinner menus were all that interesting (most assuredly not) but because I know you enjoyed getting mail at camp. The letters were a little smile I could put in an envelope and send to you, knowing that you’d smile as you read them.

So basically a lot like this blog except without the in-depth reporting and research.

At one point I sent you a series of jokes in the letters. Here’s one that made me grin out loud (I did not write this):

Two young men were out in the woods on a camping trip, when they came upon a great brook, filled with trout. They stayed there all day, enjoying the fishing, which was super.

At the end of the day, knowing that they would be graduating from college soon, they vowed that they would meet, in twenty years, at the same place and renew the experience.

Twenty years later, they met and traveled to a spot near where they had been years before. They walked into the woods and before long came upon a brook. One of the men said to the other, “This is the place!”

The other replied, “No, it’s not!” 

The first man said, “Yes, I do recognize the clover growing on the bank on the other side.”

To which the other man replied, “Silly, you can’t tell a brook by its clover.”

I’m guessing you’re rolling your eyes the same way you did when I sent it to you all those years ago.

Hee-hee.

Love, Mom