Especially when he spews his vomit on the primordial place in the Americas where it is possible to see the entire world pass before your eyes, if you open them and drink the reality of it in with a slow, savoring passionate act.
When we were growing up in a small college town in Western Massachusetts, my father, born in Zenon Park, Sakatchewan, Canada made it a point to take us to New York City twice a year. Once in the Summer to see the Boston Braves play the Brooklyn Dodgers and once in the Winter, before Christmas to visit Rockefeller Center. Each time we would visit different corners of the great city and each time we would be instructed that "if you want to see the world, you can see it in New York City." I dare say, Ted, that if you want to see the world, maybe you should just leave and go see it on site, close up and personal, but not here. Most of all, Ted, if you're going to insult us, stop trying to convince us to let you lead us. Where would you take us? Surely not to Calgary, you've already disowned that, and the whole darn country too. Nice going, Ted. Now you want us to buy your snake oil?
I have a true story for all of you. It is a story about New York Values.
I think it is either 1948 or '49. We were being treated to a visit to New York by our church pastor, Father Arthur Brodeur MS and some of his choice volunteers. We were going there to see the Boston Red Sox play the "Damn Yankees" at Yankee Stadium. This was before we were old enough to be able to say "damn" with impunity. Anyway, we're in New York and my brother and I are a little bit looser than the rest because we've been there. So, everyone is having a good time. Eating at the automat was the big thrill of the pre-game tour. So it gets to be close to the time to go to the stadium, so we get led to the subway station and warned to stay close to one another. Which we do. We're on the platform. We hear the train. There it is. The word comes from the leader, that's the train. It stops, my brother and I are first in line. The door opens and he dives in before me, being smaller and slicker, and the voice from the rear rings out, "No, not this one, the next one!" I am able to put it in reverse, but the press of those wanting to board was too great for the little boy to buck and the door closed with him inside and everyone else in the group on the platform.
So, all we can do is to wait for the next train. I was worried, but I told the priest not to worry
because if the train went to the stadium, my brother could find his way because we were used to baseball stadiums.
Let's go feel some of those New York Values.
New Yorker to little boy: "Where are you going?"
Little boy: "To Yankee Stadium."
New Yorker: "Ok, that's good because I'm going there too. I'll show you where to go."
Little boy: "Oh, thank you."
New Yorker: "Where are you from?"
Little boy: "South Hadley Falls, Massachusetts."
New Yorker: "That's pretty far."
The train stops, the man guides the Little Boy to the ticket taker. He explains the situation. The ticket taker looks up the group reservations. Tells the New Yorker and the Little Boy where the group seats are. The Little Boy with the help of the New Yorker goes to the seats reserved for the church group. After some twenty minutes, the group arrives, the ticket taker assures us that the Little Boy is fine. We check in, go to our seats where we find my little brother patiently awaiting.
Take that, Ted! Now go get lost in Machu Pichu and see how the vaues are there.
You've already shown the word what you think of Cuba and Canada and now you insult the country that you're trying to schmooze into making you its leader. You're quite a piece of work, Ted.
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