Category Archives: Off the (Gardening) Wall

Extra, Extra! Missing download cable found in husband's possession! Blogging once again possible!

A cable essential to creating online images, missing for several weeks, has surfaced, enabling blogger The Manic Gardener to post once again. The cable, which connects a digital camera to a computer, was produced this morning by “the Manic's” husband, who claims that he “discovered” it in a drawer of stray electronic equipment in his study.

The cable
The cable, after its recovery.

This highly suspicious circumstance is being investigated by appropriate authorities. When our crew arrived at the house shared (so far) by the Manic and her husband, it was cordoned off with yellow crime-scene tape and swarming with uniformed Garden Crime personnel.

One GC officer, removing her green, recyclable cap to wipe her sweaty forehead, had this to say: “This is the worst gardening crime Bozeman has seen in years. We're all sort of in shock here.” —– EXTENDED BODY:

A neighbor, who asked to remain anonymous, seemed to take the Manic's part. “I don't like to pre-judge or anything, but look at it. It was found in his study. In a drawer. Like, man, how did it get there if he didn't put it there, huh? Think about it.”

Another neighbor said only, “Where there's smoke, there's fire.”

The two-foot long black cable, which appears not to have been damaged during its absence, disappeared several weeks ago. “I couldn't understand it,” said the Manic Gardener, wringing her hands. “I had trouble locating it right after my trip to Toronto in April, but then I found it, and suddenly it was gone again.”

Asked how her husband came to produce it this morning, she said, “Well, I was just talking about it again—how frustrating it was not to have it—and I said something about how I'd looked everywhere, including outside, and under the couch—I mean, no one's looked under that couch for years—and suddenly he was asking me how long it was, and saying, real casual-like that maybe he had picked it up thinking it was his.

“So I kept things real low-key, and just asked him to check. And he did, and he comes back with my cable! After all this time!

“I told him that I'd thought of asking him directly if he might have picked it up, but I'd sort of assumed that he'd mention it if he had. I mean, it's not as if this was the first time I'd talked about missing it.”

When asked if the loss of the cable had been responsible for the Manic's recent lapse from posting on her gardening blog, she replied tearfully. “I just didn't think I could give my readers the product they've come to expect, and I couldn't bear to give them less.”

A heckler at the sidelines pointed out that some bloggers produce excellent posts without images, and that the Manic herself has been known to post without pictures.

The well-known blogger was unable to reply to this question, as she became incoherent and had to be led away, supported by sympathetic neighbors.

Shortly thereafter, the Manic's husband was led out in woven-grass manacles, said to be tougher than steel, to the donkey waiting to carry him to the county Green-Jail. “All our arrest procedures are environmentally sensitive,” one of the officers informed us. “We try not to use any manufactured products whatsoever.”

He then excused himself to lead the donkey, and a phalanx of guards armed with bamboo spears, to the Green-Jail, explaining, “It'll take us a couple of hours to get there, since we're walking, so we'd better get started.”

Readers who assume that the Manic will be seeking the maximum possible sentence (ten days spent turning compost piles) may be surprised to learn that she appears inclined to be lenient.

“He washed all the dishes this morning,” she said, “and it was a really big stack. And I'd said I would do them yesterday. And I didn't!” At this point she broke down completely.

Toronto gathering for Dad: IV From Trickle to Flood

A day or so after the phonecall from Connie, I got an e-mail from one of my cousins: he'd be coming to Toronto. With his brother. Next day there was another. Then one from one of my step-cousins, a nephew of Con's who planned to come with his wife from California. Then something from another cousin, who would be bringing her mother, the last of my father's siblings.

So it went, and kept going. At last count, some sixteen people from both Con's family and Dad's will be here, including my husband and one of our sons. Sixteen people! We'd hoped for a handful.

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Toronto gathering for Dad III: Uncertain Plans

A few days after Dad's death, Con and I organized a gathering for him here at Christie Gardens, the retirement home where they've lived for years. That had been so spontaneous–practically demanded by the many staff and residents who kept accosting Connie in the halls, asking when it would be–that there'd been no time even to alert family or friends outside this community. So we would need another time for family and close friends to gather. But Dad's work, into which he'd poured so much of his energy and passion, what of that?

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Toronto gathering for Dad II: Unremembered

These past few years, few people came to visit. Friends and colleagues dropped away as Dad's dementia deepened; even those in the organization he had helped found, Science for Peace, rarely came by. And the work he did at the university to set up an undergraduate program in peace studies and to establish a chair in that field would never, it seemed, be recognized.

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Toronto gathering for Dad I: Reversal

A few months ago, it seemed that my father was going to fade away unremembered save by those of us who loved him most. Now we're wondering if the room reserved for the memorial is big enough.

That's been the experience, over and over in various ways, during the months of planning for this gathering at the University of Toronto.

On the phone a couple of weeks ago, my mother Connie told me that her sister had offered to take any family in town out to dinner. “Then I told her how many were coming—“

“Oh no.”

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