WHO SAYS YOU CAN'T GO HOME

This is a story of Darcy Rezac's from WORK THE POND! and it's downright spooky.  It goes like this:

While a sophomore at McGill University in Montreal, I traveled to the West Coast one summer to complete officer training as an army engineer.  Westbound, my aircraft got laid up in Winnipeg, the Prairie city where I was born and lived until the age of two.  I hadn't been back since.  I needed a place to stay for the night, so I phoned a classmate and close friend, David Farmer, who was working in Winnipeg that summer.  "Come on over," David responded.  "I'm sure my landlady won't mind. Tell the cab driver the address is 944 Somerville Avenue."

David's landlady, Dr. Borthwick-Leslie, turned out to be a welcoming and fascinating person--the first woman graduate of the faculty of medicine in Winnipeg.

After half an hour of chatting over a cup of tea, she asked, "Was your father invalided in the army and sent back to Winnipeg from England at the end of the Second World War?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Come with me," she said, escorting me to the back porch.  "Do you see that small handle at the bottom of the screen door?  Your father put that on so that you and your two brothers could open it.  You lived in this house until you were two years old.  I bought this house from your father when your family moved to Montreal."

The John Hunter Story

This is the first story in WORK THE POND! Use the Power of Positive Networking to Leap Forward in Work and Life (Prentice Hall).  The authors chose this story because it is so typical: it's the kind of thing that could happen to all of us...and does!

"It was a warm summer's evening and John Hunter was patiently waiting in line to see The Phantom of the Opera.  The musical had just opened on Broadway.  John, a self-admitted "Phantom nut," had flown in  from the West Coast just to see it.  Over the noise of the traffic, John heard a man speaking Spanish.  Many years earlier, John had worked in South America as an engineer for the energy firm Petroleos de Venezuela and was fluent in Spanish.  For no other reason that to practice his Spanish and speak to someone else in the line, he turned and started chatting. To his amazement, John realized that this man was his Venezuelan manager's boss--someone he hadn't seen in over fifteen years.   

Two months later--out of the blue--John was invited by an international engineering firm to be a senior consultant on a large Venezuelan energy project.  Guess who had put John's name forward?  The man in the line."   Copyright Darcy Rezac. All rights reserved. 

Fair Dinkum Small World

I traveled to London with my partner Mike for our first visit and were very excited to be able to tour the staterooms of Buckingham Palace. (an opportunity only available when the Queen is in Scotland during the summer months)

That particular autumn morning in the UK also happen to be the day that the Australian Football Leagues’ championship game is played, appropriately named the Grand Final. This Aussie equivalent of the Super Bowl is a spectacle that typically brings the country to a standstill, and is always played in Melbourne at the Melbourne Cricket Grounds (MCG for short)

Due to the time difference from London to Melbourne Mike and I were able to watch some of the game from our hotel room while getting dressed for the day’s outing and were shocked to see that the Brisbane Lions were losing decisively at the hands of the Port Adelaide Power. There was intense national interest in the 2004 Grand Final as Brisbane was attempting to tie the previously unmatched record of the Collingwood Magpies (from Melbourne) of 4 successive Grand Final victories. With the news of the Lion’s impending defeat, we made our way to the Underground content in the knowledge that the Magpies achievement would remain unchallenged.

Fast forward to the queue outside Buckingham Palace on a chilly but bright Saturday morning in London. Due to heightened security procedures visitors are required to shuffle from one line to another passing through various scanning equipment. Being an avid crowd watcher, I took the opportunity to observe the sea of faces and nationalities represented behind me. And then it happened – a stout middle-aged woman with a friendly face approached to stand in line, wearing a sweater with the Collingwood Magpie logo proudly displayed.

I turned towards her, chose my words carefully in my mind and said “Excuse me, is that jumper fair dinkum”? To those who do not translate Aussie to English well, the sentence encapsulated the following questions: are you from Australia and by wearing that sweater are you a Magpie supporter?

Fortunately the woman smiled and replied, “Yes, I’m wearing my jumper as I’m missing the Grand Final back home and I don’t want Brisbane to beat the Magpies record”. Apparently her sweater possessed some mystical ability to alter the course of history…

We were delighted to have made this unlikely connection as we had just returned from a 2-year working visa in Australia and knew the MCG, the history of the Magpies and the city of Melbourne very well. Bolstered by our enthusiasm from the experience we asked, “Where do you live in Australia”?

Our new acquaintance replied, “I used to live in Melbourne, but now I live in a small town that you’ve probably never heard of”.

Undaunted Mike remarked, “We used to live in Melbourne and traveled extensively so it’s possible that we’ve heard of it. What’s the name of the town”, he asked.

Proudly she replied “Taralgon!”

It’s true that most people would have never heard of this relatively small town about 3 hours drive south east of Melbourne, but in a remarkable coincidence, we had spent Boxing Day last year in Taralgon.

Mike, barely able to contain his enthusiasm said, “Really? Taralgon? I have relatives there”.

Her curiosity piqued, the woman responded, “That’s amazing! Taralgon’s a small place, what are your relatives’ names”?

Mike replied “Betty and Wayne Kirstin”.

“You mean Glen’s parents?!” she exclaimed, without missing a beat.

In that instant, we could have been anywhere in the world but as luck would have it, we were standing outside the gates of Buckingham Palace, chatting with the Principal of the elementary school where Glen (a professional tennis player) teaches twice a week.

Introductions were quickly made and a promise to meet Marge for tea after the tour completed. Several hours later we were enchanted by the setting of a quaint local pub, reminiscing about all things Australian, and the opportunity to have made such a remarkable connection.

Marilyn Harmidarow

Bumping Into the High Sheriff of Gwent

On our way back to our London hotel, after a night at the theater, we ambled along Pall Mall.  Darcy mused..."I wonder who we will meet who we know?"  Judy and I looked at each other and I muttered,  "No one. The street is so empty, you could shoot a cannon ball down it and not hit a soul." No sooner had we said this then who should walk around the corner but two acquaintances of Darcy's whom he hadn't seen in twelve years. He never imagined it would be the High Sheriff of Gwent, Brian Watkins and his wife Libby.  Holy Robin Hood! Darcy didn't even know that he knew the High Sheriff of Gwent.  Sheriff Brian was a friend of Darcy's, whom he had known twelve years previou, when Brian was the British Consul General in Vancouver. Small world.