What do you mean School starts in a Week?
What is about Monday’s? There have been many songs written about Monday and most of them have not a good thing to say about the day.
Rainy Day’s and Monday’s–The Carpenters
I don’t like Monday’s–Boomtown rats
Blue Monday—Fats Domino.
Call it Stormy Monday–Nancy Wilson.
These are just some songs about Monday and not one of them speaks fondly of Monday. Now i know it is the first day of the week for many, and that in itself is a drag but at the same time i find it as refreshing a day as there is. For Teenagers it is time to return to the books after a weekend with their friends, and for adults back to work after trying to accomplish things around the house and after a weekend of visiting family and friends.
Mondays have always had an interesting aura around them, they have been called Black Monday-Blue Monday-Wet Monday-Miracle Monday-Bloody Monday, among others. And of course we have Easter Monday[or for some of us First Monday]. Monday is the day to get the work week on track and create a whole slew of new “to-do lists”, there is even a medical ailment called “Mondayitis” an illness associated with depression involving going back to work. The expression “Monday’s child is fair of face” is actually inspiring not a comedown. And since the first recorded Monday there have been over 100,000 Mondays and yet the world still goes on.
There have been many events that have happened on a Monday, Salvador Dali died on a Monday, Terry Kath of the Jazz/Rockband Chicago was shot to death on a Monday, Brenda Spenser inspired the Boomtown Rats to write “I don’t like Monday’s” by killing 2 people in her school on a Monday morning, a protest in London England on a Monday in 1886 led to a riot and many unknown deaths-Wall street crashed on a Monday in 1929. A survey in Colorado done in 2002 found over a period of 6 weeks that accidents happened on the roadways on a Monday more than any other day. In Las Vegas, a study done by the university of Las Vegas found more police reports of Domestic Violence happened on Monday’s.
As for me, well i like Monday’s, it is the last day of my work week and usually the slowest so i enjoy it more, it is the one night of the week that i watch Jay Leno, just to see his “Stupid Headlines’, there is Monday Night Football, and that is not bad. And of course there is always our Holiday Monday’s. So lets face it Monday”s are here to stay and we have to get use to it, heck there is even a musical group called”Happy Monday’s”..i wonder if they get yelled at a lot?
Nestling among the richly wooded hills and valleys of the County of Wellington, and not far from the thriving village of Hespeler, lies Puslinch Lake, a sheet of water rejoicing in a name which is decidedly not especially euphonious, but is derived from a little incident characteristic of the history of the early settlers and of the trifling events that give rise to the names of some of the most beautiful and romantic of Canadian scenes.
In the days when Western Canada was one vast forest, scarcely broken by a few clearings of very limited extent, a family from the Niagara district penetrated as far as this locality, and attracted by the glistening waters of a lake which appeared among the dark green foliage of the forest, made their way towards it. When they had nearly arrived upon its margin, their wagon came to a standstill, stuck hard and fast in the swampy ground near a thicket composed for the most part of “pitcher plants”. For hours they toiled to extricate it, but to no purpose. At length, they were agreeably surprised by the appearance of a man named Lynch, who had for some time lived near the spot, and who very kindly offered his services. “Push Lynch”, said the new settler, as with renewed hope he put his shoulders to the wheel, and between them they managed to get the wagon out of the swamp. So relieved was the emigrant on finding himself onec more able to proceed, that in commemoration of the event and the aid received from the stranger, he named the lake “Push Lynch”, which has since degenerated into “Pushlinch” and “Puslinch”.
As I before remarked, the scenery round the lake is exceedingly pretty, and if it was better known would be sure to attract a large number of visitors, who rejoice in the sight of the picturesque. And as the waters of the lake are well stocked with fish, the disciples of the “gentle art” would also congregate more numerously than they do now. Close to the margin of the lake stands a little hotel where all the necessary bait, fishing tackle, et cetera can be procured by those who seek to ensnare the denizens of Puslinch Lake. Boats can also be obtained here.
Near the centre of the lake is a very pretty island of some considerable extent, on which stands the foundation of a structure intended for a convent, which has not as yet been completed. The best spot for fishing is off this island.
The way to reach Puslinch Lake is to proceed via Hespeler, an exceedingly good specimen of a Canadian village, which is, I am happy to know, in a thriving and prosperous condition. The large manufactory of J. Hespeler, Esq., affords constant employment for a number of hands. I may also be allowed to mention that Hespeler is noted for the manufacture of exceedingly good whiskey.
The road from Hespeler to the lake is filled with pretty glimpses of Canadian rural scenery. Rich farms in the highest state of cultivation, with substantial barns and farm buildings, may be seen on every side, and thick forests, green meadows, and fields of waving corn, are interspersed together, while here and there the waters of a tiny stream, which flows for the most part among the woods and thickets, hiding like a bashful beauty, too timid to be seen, finds its way noiselessly along to the bosom of the pretty lake. And in the dark pools, and beneath the known of that romantic stream, trout, all shining with silver scales and ruddy stars, hide themselves away, and may occasionally be lured out of their native element by the temptation of a good fat worm, for there is no room for the most expert Waltonian to throw a fly, so thick the tangled copse-wood grows, and so thickly do the branches of the trees cluster to protect the brook upon its travels.
If anyone wishes to enjoy a pleasant holiday far from the city’s din and bustle, and among the beauties of Nature in her loveliest form, he cannot do better than take the Great Western Railway train to Hespeler, and, on the margin of the lake or beneath the cool shade of the forest trees beside the little stream, which night and day through all the sweet summer time sings the same melodious measure, enjoy the “dolce far niente” to his heart’s content.
August 13th 1867.
From the Hespeler Herald newspaper
No this is not going to be one of those “When I was your age” posts, but instead an examination of getting older. I am now 3 years past 50 and while that is not old, to a younger generation it is almost ancient and after watching and listening to two of my grand Rug Rats discussing the current electronic trends and music personality’s , I did indeed feel a little older. And yes, there is good and bad in getting older, more good than bad, but nonetheless there is both. Let’s face it at my age and financial situation kidnappers are not going to be very interested in me and if I ever get caught in a hostage situation I probably would be one of the first released. When I go to my Doctor no one calls me a hypochondriac and I am finally able to enjoy the benefits of our medical system. At this age my joints are probably a better weather indicator than the Weather Channel is and I actually enjoy listening to other people talk about their health issues. And once you are over 50 is there anything left to learn the hard way? The posted speed limits on the highway are no longer a challenge and I actually know and can hum along with the music that plays in the elevator. My eyes can’t possibly get much worse at this point can they? And I don’t need to hold my stomach in anymore when a woman walks into the room, and most of my secrets are safe with my friends because they have problems remembering them as well. I’ve learned never to take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same evening or confuse my career with my life. Nobody makes fun of my dancing anymore, they are just surprised I can still do the twist and the limbo. I’ve learned never to lick a sharp steak knife and I have learned that the most destructive force in the world is Gossip. And I have learned that no matter what you do, someone will take it too seriously and that your friends and family will love you no matter what you do. And in an answer to my Grandchildren, yes, two sticks and a rock was one of my toy’s when I was your age. Happy Aging everyone!