Weird. Weider. Weirdest

Yes, a bit late with this note, but A LOT happened this Christmas at the Manor. Here are the highlights.

The Weird.

Daughter Isolde and son Mark were late arriving, and appeared in the company of Irving and his computer maven, Rachel. An odder foursome would be hard to imagine. Even odder was how it had all come about.

It all started at the airport security check at the Vienna Airport. (Isolde is First Violinist with the Vienna Philharmonic). It seems that someone attempted to steal Isolde's Stradivarius while going through the airport security check. As the Strad was being seized by a nasty individual with a straggly goatee (I hate goatees) another hand quickly covered the thief's hand, crushing it and causing the person to faint from the pain. The perpetrator was soon rushed away for medical, and hopefully penal, care. This was Irving in action, and I immediately recognized the hold, 'Tom Thumb On Anvil'. Works every time, although the hand involved would never completely recover. Nice Islamic touch, if you will.

Just how they all came together at the airport Irving put down to coincidence. I thought this was rubbish -- he and Rachel had obviously planned it, thus allowing Irving to look out for my kids. Once a minder, always a minder. Isolde was suitably grateful, but Irving did exact a price: a 2012 date with the Israeli Philharmonic and a performance of Bruch's Violin Concerto.

Weirder

Just as things were settling down a bit, a huge ruckus developed at the front gate. Irving reported the presence of a petitioner who would not go away. Normally Irving would have settled the matter himself -- 'Bone Marrow Over Cranberry' works well in these situations, and leaves no permanent harm -- but apparently the petitioner cited a reference of my immediate neighbour, urging me to see him. Intrigued now, I donned parka and scarf and trotted out to the front.

There I encountered a nice young man sporting a Toronto Maple Leaf cap. I warmed to him immediately, for I am drawn to those who support lost causes. He was garnering support for the Canadian Liberated Urban Chicken Klub, a group that faces certain charges for maintaining backyard chicken coops. He indicated that my neighbour had signed this petition, and had directed him here. Since my neighbour could buy and sell Toronto itself, I wondered about all this. The only connection with poultry he would have would be his collection of Faberge eggs. Then I got it, once I worked out the acronym: C.L.U.C.K.

Wonderful.

I signed the petition, and invited him in for a small seasonal libation. He and Mark, also a Leafs fan, bonded in no time, and happily bemoaned, and bemoaned, and...er...bemoaned.

Weirdest

In my last writing, I mentioned that my gardener and housekeeper Consuela had given birth to a girl. This, of course, while significant, couldn't be termed weird. What was weird was the little girl's father, Ahmad. Their marriage was one between Muslim and Catholic, and the birth of the baby had brought certain decisions to a head. In a quiet conversation with Ahmad, he informed me of the following.

For some time now, he said, he had been outraged what had been occurring in the name of Islam. He finally had determined that the religion had been hijacked, an opinion reinforced by some work in the greenhouse. (Ahmad had been taking over some of Consuela's chores while she was enceinte.) He had been wrapping some parsnip seedlings in discarded newspapers, when he spotted an article in the New York Times Magazine by novelist Hanif Kureishi. It caused him to think deeply, and finally to dispense with religion entirely. I was glad to see another spring from superstition, but what on earth had he read?

Some scurrying around occurred at this point, but the article was eventually produced, and Ahmad pointed to one paragraph in particular. Here it is:

"Fundamentalism is dictatorship of the mind, but a live culture is an exploration, and represents our endless curiosity about our own strangeness and impossible sexuality: wisdom is more important than doctrine, doubt more important than certainty. Fundamentalism implies the failure of our most significant attribute, our imagination."

Can't say it better than that. Happy New Year to all.