J: Blame Canada
Some obscure Canadian relative has started emailing me.
He's such a nerd.
Get this:
"Since I have "made contact" with you and your kin in a strange kind of way, and since I have been in a weird place, myself, for over 3 years, I take the chance of continuing contact with you.
It's just that something my Mum said tonight at dinner struck some chord. There was a story on radio about water-bourne illness in Africa (we listen to CBC, the Canadian half-assed equivalent of the BBC) , and my Mum recounted her story of how her own Mum (Anne O'Reilly) went through a horrible death, at home, from TB (tuberculosis). What struck me, like a thunderbolt, was this: if not for that, and the equally (today) needless death of my Grandfather ( Samuel Nelson, from a heart attack, probably from the same valve defect that my own Mum had replaced 10 years ago), I'd probably have been born in Ulster and have known all of you my entire life, and probably be dead as well. For although I do listen to the BBC on the Net; the ugly visage of Ian Paisley has been burned into my psyche ever since we visited in 1968. I would have been of the age to be seduced by the socialist/communist rhetoric of the IRA, is what I'm saying; and something like Omagh might have been my work, if life had not taken the turn it did. I just mean to relate the passion and sadness I feel towards Ulster, and have felt my entire life.
My point in all this drivel is that the visit of your Mum, Tim and Kathleen has made a lasting (I think) impression. I find myself wishing that you all just lived "down the road", and not half the world away. That's all. Take care- cjm"
I'm sure that's sweet and all, but stop clogging up my business email address.
He's such a nerd.
Get this:
"Since I have "made contact" with you and your kin in a strange kind of way, and since I have been in a weird place, myself, for over 3 years, I take the chance of continuing contact with you.
It's just that something my Mum said tonight at dinner struck some chord. There was a story on radio about water-bourne illness in Africa (we listen to CBC, the Canadian half-assed equivalent of the BBC) , and my Mum recounted her story of how her own Mum (Anne O'Reilly) went through a horrible death, at home, from TB (tuberculosis). What struck me, like a thunderbolt, was this: if not for that, and the equally (today) needless death of my Grandfather ( Samuel Nelson, from a heart attack, probably from the same valve defect that my own Mum had replaced 10 years ago), I'd probably have been born in Ulster and have known all of you my entire life, and probably be dead as well. For although I do listen to the BBC on the Net; the ugly visage of Ian Paisley has been burned into my psyche ever since we visited in 1968. I would have been of the age to be seduced by the socialist/communist rhetoric of the IRA, is what I'm saying; and something like Omagh might have been my work, if life had not taken the turn it did. I just mean to relate the passion and sadness I feel towards Ulster, and have felt my entire life.
My point in all this drivel is that the visit of your Mum, Tim and Kathleen has made a lasting (I think) impression. I find myself wishing that you all just lived "down the road", and not half the world away. That's all. Take care- cjm"
I'm sure that's sweet and all, but stop clogging up my business email address.