New Stories
TRUMP VS CLINTON FEB 1/25
I first met Donald Trump many years ago. It was at the Preakness Stakes horse race for three year olds. I was with my late husband, John Sikura, who owned thoroughbred farms in Toronto and Kentucky. As always when we were at a big horse event, John asked me who I would like to meet. He knew everyone, movie stars, tv stars, anyone you’ve ever heard of who happened to frequent the race track. “The only person I want to meet is Donald Trump”, I told him. ‘Donald Trump?’, he asked. Trump was merely a developer at that time, not even close to entering politics. But I was intrigued by him and interested in real estate development myself. John said, “I can’t help you with that, I don’t know him”. So I took a little walk on my own, and along the way saw Mr. Trump with his entourage. Same expression on his face as he has now, no smile, looking straight ahead, doesn’t look from left to right, forging forward. I got in rhythm with his walk outside of his protective circle, and moved in the same direction as him. I held out by hand, but I didn’t even look towards him. Next thing I knew, a hand grabbed mine and I was pulled into his circle as we kept walking, hand in hand. “Mr. Trump I want to drive my husband crazy, would you mind walking past him?”, I asked
“Sure”, he said, “where is he?”
I pointed out my husband and we started in that direction. When John saw us he just shook his head, laughing. Trump upped the ante, raising my hand to his lips, sealing it with a kiss. It was really funny. I thought he was a great sport and so did my husband. I went back to John and Trump went on his way.
Later, we were in the saddling area since we had a horse in the big race that day. That’s the thing with being a breeder. If your horse doesn’t sell before the sale, you take it to the track because you’ve already paid the expensive fees so that it is eligible to race, still hoping it sells beforehand. John would say that you’re apt to get a lot more if you sell before the race than after.
As we waited with our entry, Donald Trump approached to greet the horses and their owners. I was excited because I had already met him. But when he came up to us, Trump ignored me completely, and addressing my husband, conversed with him. I was embarrassed, blushing. I felt silly until Trump said to my husband, “by the way, you have such a beautiful wife”, which was an exaggeration, easily forgiven, and very much appreciated. “Oh, Mr. Trump”, I said, “do you mind?”, as I motioned towards a photographer who was working the event and who I had standing by in case we could get such a photo.
Donald Trump had a great way about him. He was a lot of fun, charismatic, and most importantly when he left, he had both me and my husband feeling wonderful.
By comparison, I also met Bill Clinton and sat next to him during a big event. He was at our table. There were eight at our table and he talked through dinner. None of us knew what he was talking about, philosophy and politics but at such a high-level intellect we didn’t understand. He got up to speak to the group and he was fantastic. I thought at the time that every girl there would go home with him, and then it also dawned on me that probably every guy there would’ve gone home with him as well. Back at the table, I was with a boyfriend who was the reason we happened to end up there. He decided that it was time to leave and as we got up to go, Clinton, who was on my other side, turned to me, took both of my hands in his, and stared deeply into my eyes. “You’re not leaving already, are you?”, he asked. He seemed distraught at my impending departure. Up to this point he had not really acknowledged me at all, but this was very powerful. “Uh, I’m not sure”, I said. “No you can’t leave yet”, he insisted. He seemed desperate. I turned to my boyfriend and whispered, “do you think we could stay a little while longer?” The look he gave me was daggers and soon we were on the way home. He was mad as hell, but I was, well…wistful, quite moved by Clinton.
So the difference was that after a meeting with Donald Trump, my husband and I both left happy. But after some time with Bill Clinton, I surely left happy but my man, well, not so much. So Trump wins the day on that one because Clinton seemed to forget that men make up half of the population, then again he was past his election years.
This is not about Trump’s politics. it’s just an impression I was left with years ago when I first met him. Was he normal then? Who knows? I am as terrified as so many others over what he might do next...
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STORY 2 Everyone knows how much I love my birthplace Cape Breton Island. I have land on the Bras D’or Lakes there, inherited from my mother. It’s on a bank overlooking the sea where I almost soar with the eagles, the most gorgeous place I’ve ever been. My very modest bungalow, is well, very very modest, albeit with the world’s best view. Because I’m right on the famous lake, now a biosphere, and also on a running brook, getting the rights for indoor plumbing are complex and could be a hassle. Not that the officials are unreasonable, it’s more my family, think the Hatfields and McCoys. But my dispute only involves one family, my own. Why there’s enough animosity to slay a dragon, I suspect. My brother in the cottage next to mine has indoor plumbing, but I see him sneaking off to the outhouse a lot, so I guess it’s not working and he’s trying to keep that from me. But if I make any move for indoor plumbing, all hell will likely break loose and I’ll be reported to authorities from the prime minister on down. So I decided to just build a state of the art outhouse to take care of the problem. But it didn’t take care of the problem. I wanted comfort. So I bought a six bedroom house in Sydney to solve my issues. That’s a 40 minute drive each way. When I leave for town and drive up the path, my kind cousin Peter, will generally stop me and say “Are you going to the bathroom, you can go here”. He does have plumbing because he’s not on the waterway. So generous and kind, but I’m not ruining everyone’s breakfast by running in and announcing ‘I need to go’. So I continue on to Sydney. You have to admit an 80 minute drive is a long way to go just for plumbing. So I decided to try the restaurant in Ben Eoin, which is only 15 minutes from my cottage. But always, after skulking into the washroom there, I feel guilty and order a meal in their delicious restaurant immediately afterwards. And by the time I’m almost back at my place, well, you know, and I feel like driving the other way to St. Peters to slip into another great restaurant, and do it all over again. I could always try visiting Philip Glass, the American composer and pianist who winters in New York, but who, like me, enjoys his summers in Cape Breton, in the Inverness area.. Widely regarded as one of the most influential composers of the late 20th century. Glass’s work has been associated with minimalism. So maybe he doesn’t have plumbing..humm.. But I can only hope… “Mr. Glass, my name is Sharon Dunn, I’d love to write a story about you, but before we get started, do you mind if I use your facilities?”
I’m sure you’re wondering, ‘what about my state of the art outhouse? Why isn’t it doing the trick? Maybe because the ‘state of the art’ part is three ply toilet paper. Let’s face it, an outhouse is an outhouse is an outhouse. Since I don’t use it now, I’m thinking of turning it into a sleep cabin for guests. That’ll keep them away.
LOL
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