Back when I was a paper boy, an alter boy, and really, really wanted to play for the Montreal Canadiens. It was a time when I still liked school, before my disastrous high school days began, and when I hoped that soon I would touch a girl’s boob.
As you can see below on my scientific tracking chart, the Habs have won just 6 of their last 23 games, which is a fantastic achievement of course. So I just can’t wait for the Tampa game Wednesday night, when we go for an even better 6 wins in 24 games!
I ponder this in Stanley Park. Should I play? Can I use a wooden stick? Is there a jock strap big enough?
A fellow in Vermont contacted me after finding this site, and sent in this story. He and I have one major thing in common. We have the same name.
VT Higher Education Collaborative
I’d taken the goddam course more than once. The course I hated. I was bored and could hardly wait for it to end. The course that showed you what to do if someone is choking on a piece of food.
I was at a pub last night with my wife, my wife who is kind and loving and warm and caring, my wife who I love so much, and she choked on a piece of meat. I was up from the table in a flash, and I got behind her, wrapped my arms around her, and pulled.
But my arms were too high up, and I was failing my job. But she, in her terror and panic, grabbed my arms and pulled them to her stomach, where I again applied pressure. The meat dislodged and it was over, and we sat back down and just kind of sat there.
But that goddam course taught me to wrap my arms around her stomach, and I didn’t do that. I was up around her top chest, and that was wrong. We got the job done, but I failed her because I hadn’t cared or shown interest about that course.
I ask everyone to please do something for me. If someone is choking on food, stand behind them, wrap your arms around the STOMACH, and with clenched fists, apply back and forth pressure.
You don’t need to take the course. Just do this little thing. I almost lost my wife, and I can’t imagine life without her.
There’s a second part to this story: Only a few weeks back, my wife, while at her job, choked again on a piece of meet. But this time, no one was around. She stumbled around in panic, and somehow remembered that she had a bottle of water in her locker. She drank and drank, and like a miracle, the meat came free.
So that’s twice now in less than a month. She’s promised me to make her pieces of meat smaller and to chew more. But am I ever worried.
This is the letter I mailed off this morning. (seriously)
Club de Hockey Canadien
1260 De La Gauchetiere Ouest
Dear Sir or Madam,
This letter is regarding the two young kids at the beginning of the game who are dressed in Habs uniforms, carry flags, and skate around the Bell Centre ice.
I would like to apply for this position.
I’m only assuming that there is no age limit for this task, but they look quite young and I am 57 years old. But I assure you I would carry out these pre-game activities to the best of my ability, in a serious and professional manner.
I realize that you probably have all your young kids already scheduled for this season, but this is fine for me. Next year works well also.
Even though I live in a semi-isolated place on Canada’s west coast, I can be in Montreal on short notice. I’m even available for a couple of games if one of the kids phones in sick.
The Montreal Canadiens have always treated their fans in a first-class manner, even though I wrote, as I’m doing now, but was denied the chance to be stick boy for one game in the early 1960’s. (Although Sam Pollock did send me a nice note saying why).
Thank you very much for your consideration. They say dreams do come true. Now’s your chance to make it happen for me before I join the Rocket and Boom Boom in heaven in another twenty-five years or so.
Been a loyal, unwavering Habs fan for more than 50 years.
Am a good skater and was a smallish yet shifty right-winger for Orillia’s Byer’s Bulldozers Bantam team.
Will buy my own uniform if you don’t want to do that.
My wife would be proud. And you have no idea how proud I’d be.