Strange Coincidences

New Zealand Journal of Agriculture, Volume 72, Issue 1, 15 January 1946, Page 101

Strange Coincidences

THE topic “Strange Coincidences” certainly proved a popular one with “Good Neighbours”—even some of the menfolk joined in! The variety of contributions and the unusual nature of many of the experiences recorded undoubtedly justify the maxim, “Truth is stranger than fiction.”

The first prize was awarded to “ Bebe M.”, Napier; “Native Flower”, Waipukurau, and “Pea”, Hawke’s Bay, shared the second prize. “Clara Jane,” Rakaia, and “Twilight,” Wanganui, were commended.

First Prize

THE lunch-time whistle had blown at the workshops. There was a slow, waning noise of machinery and the clatter of hurrying footsteps. James Smith made for his own special possie, the one he had claimed for the last 10 years, and Harry, his old pal, sat down nearby. James opened his morning paper with the automatic deliberation of years and folded it into a heat square; then, to the accompaniment of cheese sandwiches, he read the world news and then the local news. The talk around him held no distraction.

“Say, Harry,” he said, “thought you were the only M’s in New Zealand.” “That’s- right.” Harry spoke with a slight Yorkshire accent. “All the M’s in this country are related.” - ' - “Then you know this Charles M—who’s just got engaged. The notice is in the paper here. See.” Harry took the paper and read the short engagement notice. Charles — , 2nd N.Z.E.F., engaged to Mary Jones, of Dashwood. He flicked the paper with his hand and his voice trembled with excitement. ' - - “If that is not my long-lost brother. I’m a Dutchman,” he said. “My mother

died when Charlie was six weeks old and we were all put into orphanages. Nobody . knew what became of the baby. I’ve searched for years for this brother. I must find out if it is.” “Try and get in touch with the girl,” someone suggested. “There are about 10 Joneses in Dashwood that I know of,” said another. “I come from there.” “Go to the paper office and find out.” “The paper won’t give out information like that.” ■ • Everyone was interested and full of ideas. “I’ll contact all the Joneses I know in our suburb,” offered the man from Dashwood. - • ' . But some weeks went by.and nothing came of the incident; then one morning the man from Dashwood had some news. “Harry, that M— you thought was your brother was married - yesterday. I’ll give you the address of the girl’s people.” ' ’ . / . s . “Splendid. I’ll go out on Saturday and make inquiries.” . Mrs.- Jones was only too willing to supply Harry with a few details. Yes, Charles was a Yorkshire man and about 35 years old. He was short, dark, very much Harry’s build, in fact very like him in features.' Charles was an orphan and had no relatives that she knew of. Mrs. Jones was as excited as Harry and strongly advised him to write to Charlie, whose address she supplied. .

■ The investigations finally led Harry to Hawke’s Bay in order to establish relationship. Papers, birth certificates, and dates all coincided. Harry beyond doubt had found the brother from whom he was parted 35 years before. Charles was amazed to find he was one of six children when he had assumed, he was without kith or kin. . He had been parted from, his family as a tiny baby. Both brothers had ; left England in the same year. . An engagement notice in a morning newspaper. and an unusual surname were primarily responsible for the reunion of two long-lost brothers. “Bebe M.”, Napier,

Second Prize (equal)

1 folk would look alarmed and whis-

per “Bad news coming” ,if a bird flew against their window. This superstition probably resulted from the practice of sending messages by carrier pigeon before telegraphy was known.' Be that as it may, nursemaid tales did their work upon me, and even to-day, at middle-age, if a bird hits my window something goes “ping” deep down in my subconscious self. Imagine, then, my consternation during the last war, when two little sparrows continued to hurl .themselves at the kitchen window. It was towards the end of 1943, on the day that an official announcement was made that the New Zealanders had been in action in Italy for the first time. I was in town when I heard the news and as my son was with the Division I felt certain suspense, which changed to a cold, gripping terror when I reached home and found two sparrows hurtling at the window. I immediately opened wide the window so that they should have nothing to fly against. They flew into the kitchen and banged their way round and round. . I chased them out and . shut the window. They then took up their position on an overhanging porch and used that as their taking-off place while they flew again and again at the window, scrabbling at it with beak and claws. I stuffed up the ledge on the roof with paper and they moved on to the sitting-room window

and kept up the attack at one place or the other until dark and resumed it the next day. When they ceased in the middle of the morning I felt like a piece of chewed string but did not share my fears with either my husband or younger members of the family. A fortnight later news came that my son had been wounded. Friends com-

miserated with me but I felt an overwhelming relief that my worst fears had not been realised. Was this just a coincidence or a touch of the supernatural? It beats me..—“ Pea,” Hawke’s Bay. Second Prize (eqaul) AN R.A.A.F. airman in Canada who Clwas attached to the Empire Training Scheme was spending leave in America and stayed with a very hospitable American family for a week-

end. When he left his hostess, wrote to his mother telling her that she had entertained her son and that he was well and happy. She also mentioned that she had a son of her own overseas somewhere and hoped that someone was making things easier for him as she had done for this boy. At the time the letter was received in Australia a young American was being made “at home” for the weekend and the letter was read aloud to everyone in general. . As the name and address at the conclusion of the letter were made known the American jumped up from his chair with the cry, “That’s my mother!” I think that was a really happy coincidence. “ Native Flower,” Waipukurau.

Commended

rpHIS might be called a recurring -*■ coincidence: whenever I make jelly it rains. I’ve tried placing the bowl of jelly in cold water to'make it set quickly, and 'so avoid wet weather, but to no avail. If it doesn’t pour, it drizzles, and always within 24 hours. ■ Such an occurrence, is particularly annoying during harvest-time, for jelly makes a refreshing dessert, yet we want every bit of sunshine to get the crops harvested in time. Sometimes when I want to try something different in the way of a pudding I suddenly think ,of a jelly. I debate the issuesurely it could not rain on such a perfect morning. or evening. Once after I had made jelly, however, a severe hailstorm came up within an hour and put out the electricity. It created such an uncanny atmosphere as we huddled together in the .dark watching the windows and thinking of my deed. In the end I was forbidden to make jelly except when’ the weather was of no importance. Again my belief is proving itself for as I write this I can see. .flashes of lightning cutting the sky and the radio programme is being interrupted by static. Is it a coincidence that I made a gelatine froth for a sponge today?

—“Clara Jane,” Rakaia.

IN the days when wireless sets were not so common an old couple were sitting outside their cottage in the country when suddenly the air was filled with music—-a tune they both knew well, as it was their son’s fav-

ourite and he had often played it for them on the tiny piano in the parlour. The son had died in tragic circumstances, so that the tune coming out of the blue was a shock to them, especially as the player had the same touch as their son’s. They listened with tears in their eyes and silently turned indoors at the last note. If they had only waited the strange occurrence would have been explained. Unknown to the old folk a wireless in the big house up on the hill was broadcasting a competitions, programme, the competitors being children. One of them was their grandson who, many miles away in the city, played the favourite old tune his father had taught him to love. ' What stranger coincidence could have occurred than that the wireless should have been installed only that afternoon and the old couple heard that particular broadcast? — Feilding.

Mary’s Song O, Mary the maiden walked in the meadows, And Mary the maid was alone; O, she sang a small song as she tripped through the grasses, And the song was of joys of her own. O, Mary the maiden walked in her garden, And tall was the lad by her side; O, Mary’s heart sang, for her joy and her gladness ' ' All sadness and sorrow defied. O, Mary the mother walked with her treasure, The tall trees green banners unfurled, O, Mary’s heart sang, and this song the sweetest, The mother-song of the whole world. Mary Hatching.

Competitions FEBRUARY Don’t forget to enclose a stamped, addressed envelope for the return of . the photos and negatives which you are entering for our “Photographic Contest”— closing date February 15. The descriptive paragraph pertaining to each snapshot must-not exceed 100 words. MARCH Every member of our ever-growing circle of “Good Neighbours” uses a penname. Perhaps it is your own Christian name, or the title of a song, or the name of a favourite character in fiction; maybe it commemorates some scenic feature of your immediate surroundings (such .as “Green Acres,” for instance), or it may indicate . your favourite hobby. Whatever the story underlying your choice of pen-name, do share it with your fellowreaders. A prize of 10/- will be awarded for the best effort and there is a second prize of 5/-. “MY PEN-NAME.” The last day for receiving entries is March 15. ' MARY, “Journal of Agriculture,” Box 3004, Wellington. Illllllllllllllllltlllllllllllllllllllllllllllllliiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiuiiiniii

MAY a mere male intrude (and one who, alas, is no longer a rural dweller?) It happened many years ? ago when gold coins were something more than museum pieces. My duties required me to proceed along a certain street at a certain fixed time every afternoon and for no reason at all I had developed the practice of crossing the street at a particular place. One afternoon, as I stepped from the kerb, I saw a half-sovereign lying in the watertable and was not too proud to pick it up and put it in my pocket. On the following afternoon, as I neared my accustomed crossingplace, I recalled the event of the previous day and the thought passed through my mind. “Well, if there is another half-sovereign lying around waiting to be picked up it won’t be just here, so I had better cross the street somewhere else.” I went on another 20 yards or so, crossed the street (I could find the exact spot even now) and, as I was about to step up on to the kerb on the opposite side, there it wasanother half-sovereign in the watertable! Some day I shall go back to the town where this happened and at a certain precise hour I shall cross that street at a certain spot. Though I cannot hope to pick up a halfsovereign, who knows but there may be a poor substitute in the shape of a Reserve Bank note! —“Hemi Pango”, Wellington.