Who Cares How the Jaguar Feels? Maybe the Jaguar Does

I am grateful that my friend Karen passed along this bit of news today or I would not have known -- one of our favorite high school teachers had died.  It is not exactly sad news since she lived beyond 94 years, and I think that is something to be celebrated!

 

The 'she' is Sister Marguerite Tarleton, one of my English teachers at Saint Paul Catholic High School.  Sister Margueite was a petite woman and already getting up there in age when she taught us. Sadly, we probably weren't always as respectful and attentive as we should have been but that's how 16 & 17 year old kids sometimes behave.

 

She had a habit of reciting literary passages aloud to us and then when she got to a 'bad word' or a suggestive passage, she would go silent, and we would read that to ourselves. You can imagine the giggles this practice elicited from teenagers. She was also prone to repetition.

 

Honestly, to this day when I hear the name Sister Marguerite, I immediately think of one line that she must have repeated 1 if not 100 times:

 

"Who cares how the jaguar feels?  Maybe, the jaguar does!"  Again, we probably giggled and I know I can't be alone in that association with the phrase.  But countless times over the years, I have thought about how perfect a line it is and what a beautiful credo to hold to. Sister Marguerite was one smart cookie and she knew what she was doing!

 

For me it's a take on 'walk a mile in someone else's shoes' rolled together with 'do unto others as you would have done to you' together with 'treat people and animals with respect'!  I wish I could have seen her again later in life and told her what a great teacher she was! 

 

I will admit, I had to look up the passage to see what work it comes from -- The Most Dangerous Game, by Richard Connell.  I printed out a copy online and I'm going to re-read it this week.

 

So, here's to Sister Marguerite Tarleton (and to all those wonderful teachers out there)...thank you!

    

Nice to meet you, Guy Fawkes!

If you can't laugh at yourself...

Tomorrow is Guy Fawkes day in England.  In 1605, he was involved in the failed attempt to assassinate King James I to return a Catholic to the monarchy...or so they say.  The plotters wanted to blow up Parliament and Fawkes was placed in charge of guarding the gunpowder.  Authorities got wind of the plot and Fawkes was captured and interrogated but jumped to his death before hanging.  Every Nov 5, citizens commemorate the Gunpowder Plot with bonfires and/or fireworks!  Often a likeness of Fawkes is burned in effigy.

I know a lot about Guy Fawkes now, but on my first visit to London I was unaware of this historical figure.  Blame it on my history education which went heavy on British citizens coming to Jamestown and Plymouth aboard Ships named Susan Constant and Mayflower, and those Redcoats of the Revolution.

So one night on our London vacation, my friend and I were visiting with some friends of friends who lived in London.  They took us to many fine establishments over the course of the evening and a good time was had by all:)  But before going out, we all met up at one of the flats where we were introduced to all the young men and women, one with the name of 'Guy Fawkes'.

It wasn't til the next afternoon, on a tour of Parliament, that we heard a little story about a man named Guy Fawkes!  Imagine our faces as we heard the story told by our guide.  I can't remember if I first laughed or cursed:)  (Think of it as if you told some visitor to the US that your name was Benedict Arnold and they went around all night calling you 'Benedict' or 'Ben Arnold'...and you laughed)

The jig was up -- we had been had:)  I remember frantically trying to recall how many times I had referred to that 'guy' as Guy.  Always happy to provide a good laugh -- the expense was minimal! 

So every November 5, I toast not to Guy Fawkes but to the prank that we were cast in!