TERRE HAUTE —
It has been years, but I don’t think I’ve been able to fully convince my Best Friend that he did not kill Mom’s canary.
My BF and I had reached a point where it seemed like a good idea to meet parents, so we motored to Southeast Missouri so he could see exactly what kind of kooks he was about to make a part of his family. Dinner went well and conversation proceeded at a friendly pace. Eventually my BF was ushered into the guest room and all grew quiet.
The next morning, he was roused by the aroma of hickory-smoked bacon and he wandered into the dining room where JoJo reigned in his cage. I explained that JoJo was a fighter and that if one stuck a little finger through the bars of his cage, JoJo would shuffle over on his perch and start pecking at it.
So, testing it as a theory, my BF stuck his little finger into the cage and JoJo started his sideways shuffle only to spin around the perch and fall dead on the floor of the cage — his little feet stuck rigidly skyward. Needless to say, my BF was stunned. “How can I ever explain this to your mother?” he wailed.
I explained that JoJo was ancient and could have gone at any time. Mom hastened to add to my assurances that it was just JoJo’s time and it had nothing to do with a strange finger invading his space.
I have no idea of the life expectancy of a canary, but we figure that JoJo must have been at least 10 years old and that it had been years since he raised his beak in song. He had been a gift to Mom from Miss Heyford, an elderly woman who lived up the street from us in Yorkville. She suffered from the misapprehension that Mom was desolate when Mr. Watson died, so JoJo was her idea of repayment for the insulin shots Mom helped her with.
I must have been about 15 when JoJo came to live with us, and I was about halfway through my 20s when he turned up his claws and called it the end of the road. He might have made it into the Guinness Book of World Records if only he had hung on. Alas!
Actually, Mom had had more than enough of canaries starting with Cinnamon Pete who was a birthday gift from Dad. Pete lived a pleasant life with plenty of seeds, a bathtub which clipped to the door of his cage with a clean strip of newspaper and a sprinkle of gravel daily. When he passed to his reward, I received Mr. Watson as a Christmas gift. Maybe it was Dad, the gift giver, who missed the singing of a bird in the morning. JoJo was third in the line of family canaries and Mom had never said she wanted one.
So, I thought I’d try one more time, and publically, to say, “My dear, JoJo led the good life, but it was his time to go. It wasn’t your fault. Get over it!”
Liz Ciancone
LIZ CIANCONE: It was just JoJo’s time to go — really!
- Liz Ciancone
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LIZ CIANCONE: Another beloved dog goes to heaven
We are short one granddog. This past week, “Indy” could no longer use her back legs and she went to that great dog kennel in the hereafter.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Withdrawn society not very social any more
My Best Friend and I went out for lunch the other day. It was a sit-down place with our own “server” (in my day I was called “a waitress”) and everything offering personal attention. The manager even came over to ask if everything was all right.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Technology, new fabrics made ironing much easier
As surely as Tuesday follows Monday on the calendar, ironing day followed wash day on Mom’s housekeeping chart.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Looking back at memories of ‘history’
I was reading a whodunit the other day. The protagonist was trying to solve the mystery of what had happened to a local citizen soldier who had disappeared during the war.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Smell of fresh air gave way to dryers
Remember when clean clothes smelled like fresh air and sunshine rather than fabric softener and dryer sheets?
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LIZ CIANCONE: Courts see a different appearance than cops
Have you ever noticed the transformation between the arrest of an accused lawbreaker and the first appearance in court?
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LIZ CIANCONE: We always want more than we need
Washington seems more preoccupied with the unemployment rate than they are about the constant stalemate. Still with thousands out of work and the unemployment rate hovering somewhere between 7 percent and 9 percent, it does deserve more than a passing nod.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Old age is in email of the beholder
My Best Friend isn’t much for writing letters, so email has opened a new world for him. He can dash off a few words to a high school friend or his college roommate — now living in Florida and Washington State,
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LIZ CIANCONE: A memory test from the oldtime radio days
For some reason, I seem to be the go-to source for all sorts of obscure information out at the Wabash Valley Family Sports Center.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Friskey no doubt was in favor of gun control
I once owned a gun. Actually, it was Dad’s gun and I was allowed to use it. He bought an air gun which shot BB’s to protect our home — in a way.
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LIZ CIANCONE: A robin stops to welcome the spring
I saw a robin the other morning. It was not the first robin of spring, of course. A few of the more daring robins had opted to spend the winter and, although they looked pretty sorry about it on a few occasions, it was a fairly mild winter.
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LIZ CIANCONE: The mystery of the small animal mascot
I hope you won’t think I’m picking on small animals, but I’ve been thinking about Easter and the Easter bunny.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Rising up to defend the poor groundhog
I read in the newspaper the other morning that Punxsatawney Phil is being hauled into court and charged with falsely predicting an early spring. I am volunteering my services as counsel for the defense.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Keeping eye out for signs of spring
The problem with expecting a groundhog to predict the arrival of spring is that there are groundhogs scattered all over the country. The Pennsylvania groundhog may not see the same kind of weather as the groundhog out here in Dobbs Park. In this way, false hopes are roused and the groundhog loses credibility as a meteorologist.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Not every other name smells sweet as a rose
It was either Romeo or Juliet who said, “What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
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LIZ CIANCONE: Innocence appreciated when you’re growing up
I grew up rather stupid. I didn’t realize it at the time. Neither did my teachers who seemed to think I had “promise.”
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LIZ CIANCONE: Years along rivers make them feel like home
I’ve been following plans for celebrating “The Year of the River” with interest. Rivers have played such a role in my life that I’ve celebrated a good many rivers. The Wabash River is merely the most recent example.
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LIZ CIANCONE: There are always cat stories to be told
I was asked the other day why I write about dogs I have known, but never about cats. “What’s the matter?” they asked, “Don’t you like cats?”
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LIZ CIANCONE: Sharing the family history
My Grandmother lived with us. Ed and I were eager audiences for her family stories about the Cooks. Mom also shared her memories of growing up with three brothers.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Do we want our privacy or not?
We Americans are a strange bunch. We insist upon our right to privacy, yet we neglect few opportunities to parade our personal business in public.
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LIZ CIANCONE: The low humor of Mickey Mantis
I’m told that a pun is the lowest form of humor. I guess that typecasts me! I love them, but then, I like any type of word play.
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LIZ CIANCONE: For now, justice is served in Bball Hall
News this past week brought justice of a sort. The folks who decide these things have declined to pick anyone to be enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame this year.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Well, what would you do with only 1 sock?
Let me ask you something.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Movie memories don’t include many of the lengthy variety
There has been lots of reporting lately about how long movies are becoming.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Resist that big ‘let down’ on the day after Christmas
Today is the big day. That makes tomorrow a sort of let down — rather like “What have you done for me lately?”
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LIZ CIANCONE: No thanks to getting mags delivered via the Internet
I am a creature of habit. I like to know what I’m doing and I need to know how to do it. That’s why I am annoyed when corporate America seems determined to drag me, kicking and screaming into the age of Internet.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Everyone has a favorite holiday
I suppose everyone has a favorite holiday. My guess is that, for most of us, that holiday is Christmas. It's a holiday with a miracle no matter how old we get.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Christmas season puts time back into focus
It’s a funny thing about time. It can speed along so that you cannot believe that your kids can possibly be old enough to have good sense, or it can drag its heels while you wait for that first grandchild or while you are saving up for something really special.
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LIZ CIANCONE: The bottom line is what drives ‘Black Friday’ sales
Why is it called "Black Friday"?
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LIZ CIANCONE: Have we lost the meaning of holiday?
I’ve been considering a lost-and-found ad to see if anyone knows what’s happened to Thanksgiving.
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