A Return to the Conundrum...

Those of you who are in contact with me by gmail or Facebook, or have been viewing my Flickr postings will know that I am now living in northern Ontario, in a small community called Nakina. It certainly has been an eye opener, a breath of fresh air, both literally and figuratively. It has also had a substantial impact upon my quest to define the Canadian character; and my desire for our community as a culture to better our lives, our surroundings and the hope we should be creating for future generations.

Last August I entitled a posting:

So many people, so little purpose!

...Oh, but that is God's conundrum!

I’d like to revisit this idea. I would like to reset the parameters of this project and maybe raise the odds a little.

I opened my posting with the following sentence:

What sense is there to our lives if we lack purpose? If we lack purpose, we live either foolishly or without consideration.

Although I implied that there are many people, there are far fewer where I am now, but there still seems to be too little purpose. Too few in our communities seem to have a commitment to bettering their environment or even their immediate surroundings. To do this, only small steps need be taken and little effort. But the hardest part may be a change in attitudes and priorities.

Here’s a short statement written by Lord Conrad Black in his August 28th posting:

What is needed is a reorientation of America away from consumerist hedonism and back to a sensible balance between production, consumption, discretionary spending, saving and investment;

Read more: http://www.nationalpost.com/opinion/columnists/AMERICA+DARK+DAYS/3453700/story.html#ixzz0z6HUGizV

At first I thought that maybe we as Canadians should substitute Canada for America. Then I thought, why not strip it right back to the basics? I thought, not America or Canada, but FAMILIES, or households. If families, or households, were to curb their hedonist consumerism, consume and produce responsibly, and be discrete in their spending and savings habits, wouldn’t our communities and families become more balanced, become happier and more fulfilling places to live in?

In every thing that we do there should be some purpose. All our actions truly do create reaction. So if our actions have a negative impact on another maybe we should reconsider our actions?

What we do in consideration for those around us might be as little in thought as picking up a piece of garbage, a kind act or encouraging word. Or it might be standing up for a mistreated individual. Giving of our time to make life easier or happier for another. But any of these things gives our lives purpose and meaning. It makes us responsible individuals, responsible to our families, our communities and ultimately ourselves.

The conundrum should not be God’s, but our own.

Sunglasses

I have three pairs of sunglasses. They’re sort of like pocket knives and flashlights: you can never have too many. My last pair, and best pair to date, were free, compliments of a binocular distributor. But the other two were bought and paid for at one of my favorite sporting goods stores. A place where I have spent far too much time and money over the years (at least according to my last wife).

These first and second pairs are your typical gold wire framed amber glassed shooting type specs. They’re functional and practical protective eye wear, exactly the same as each other. They are by no means as “stylish” as the “free” pair. Because of this I at one time had refrained from wearing them: at least in the presence of my last wife.

So, why two pairs exactly alike? Well, it just so happens that the first pair went missing. I remember reaching for them on the drive home from the cottage one October a few years ago. They weren’t in their appropriate pocket, or any other for that matter. So, on a bright and crisp February morning the need arose to replace them. The need also arose to visit the previously mentioned sporting goods store. Maybe more an urge than a need.

Now this store is not a local establishment that one can simply drop into while grocery shopping. Weekly visits on one’s way home from work are also out of the question. But that’s OK because as a destination shopper I’ll go out of my way to browse its displays and fawn over the neat little trinkets that would be much better off housed in my tackle box/boat/hunting cabin.

Similar to most anglers and hunters I can be rather conservative in my actions, methods and deeds: some might call it miserly, both my first wife and second would agree with them on this. But if I can take care of two or three things at once, and be as little out of pocket as possible, then success is apparent. On this particular bright and crisp February morning I was given such an opportunity. My favorite destination shopping stop was only one or two minutes out of the way from my intended destination. My intended destination being a tiny, privately run summer camp. At that camp resided a long forgotten fiberglass canoe, much in need of a new home and paddler.

Not unlike the third pair of sunglasses, this is one of the best types of canoes. A free canoe. So, as you can imagine, this bright, crisp February morning was going to be quite the success! An outdoors-man's perfect day of destination shopping. A pair of sunglasses to replace those lost the weekend we closed the cottage and a free canoe to boot!

I bought my new pair of sunglasses. After of course checking the inventory levels and critiquing the store’s latest innovative equipment. I then continued upon my journey. By the end of the day I had a newly acquired canoe for the price of gas there and back, and a new pair of functional and practical sunglasses. Combine the two and you have the joy of paddling with no strain on the optic nerve.

Two months later my first pair of sunglasses were returned to me. David, angler and hunting partner through thick and thin passed them to me over a table of beer and wings. He’d found them the week before during the yearly ritual of opening the cottage. A ritual I was unable to attend that year.

The most arduous task in such a ritual is of course turning on the water. And it’s far more arduous for Dave than for me. Dave’s got sixty pounds on me and stands a few inches shorter. The crawl space beneath the cottage is dark, tight and all things scary. As I was unable to attend that spring, Dave did the tunnel rat task of cleaning out the pit and closing the valves.

Each year I promised myself “I’m not going in”. That past autumn gave me greater reason to never do it again. I’d crawled the eight feet that seems more like twenty-five to where the valve is. As I reached into the pit my hand passed through something I had not expected to be there. In my panic to finish the task at hand, convincing my gag-reflex it was working overtime, my thrashing about (don’t ask me how I thrashed in such a confined space) caused my sunglasses to work themselves from their appropriate pocket and find themselves in the possession of one very large, very dead, very decomposed raccoon!

Dave had very little trouble with the raccoon. It had been rendered mere bones by spring, and he knew it was there: at least that’s what I told myself. Well, Dave found my sunglasses right there in the pit. He removed them, as well as the remains of one long dead raccoon. I got my glasses back, the raccoon got disposed of.

The pit is now more accessible. It is no longer such a tight squeeze, and opening the valve in the autumn isn’t the perilous adventure it used to be. And I don’t think it is nearly as attractive to those creatures seeking out a place to expire!

I’ll no doubt purchase more sunglasses in the future, along with the odd flashlight; I my just need to light my way through other tight spots. But I don’t think I’ll be lending my sunglasses to any other forest creatures, especially raccoons, after all, they are supposed to be nocturnal!

The Playground

The second week of January brought me to the end of a 22-year career. I’ve now embarked on a new adventure with many different opportunities ahead of me. Before settling into a new career I’ve decided to take a few months to explore and maybe even indulge myself a little. One thing is a new dog. It’s been almost two years since Duffy died and this temporary time of unemployment has given me the opportunity to train a new dog. Her name’s Lyndy, a perfect little Brittany.

We have a bit of a routine happening. Up early and around the block. Breakfast, a few TV shows and the newspaper. Then it’s the leash-free zone at the bottom of the street; right on the lake. As you can imagine, it’s a very popular spot. As far as the dog world goes it’s quite cosmopolitan, diverse. For those of you unfamiliar with the dog world it’s like visiting the playground with a bunch of preschool kids in a multicultural, multiracial community.

On yesterday’s visit our little Brittany took up with a little Cocker Spaniel. A lot of chasing, bouncing off each other and back to the chase. They were then joined by a Husky. First it chased the little Cocker Spaniel, biting as it caught the smaller dog which then emitted a high pitched yelp. The Husky then proceeded to chase Lyndy. When catching her, she also emitted a high pitched yelp, obviously in pain. When I confronted the owner of the Husky I was met with a bit of an obtuse attitude. His dog had not hurt mine or the previous dog, it was simply playing, being a dog. I replied to him that if his dog continued to play in such a manner and hurt another dog that his dog would get hurt. Maybe not the most responsible reaction, but never the less, someone in the park needed to tell him that.

Years ago, as a parent, I witnessed such behavior on many occasions in the playground. Many years ago, as a child, I also witnessed this type of behavior, sometimes being the one getting hurt.

On a June morning in 2000 the lead news story in the GTA was that of a murder-suicide. It was both shocking and depressing. What was most depressing about the story though was that in reality it was not that shocking at all.

On the morning of June 20th, 2000, Ralph Hadley dragged his estranged wife from her home. She was naked and clutching their infant son. Neighbors managed to secure the child before Ralph, wielding a pistol, dragged her back into the house. Moments later there were two shots fired. Ralph had murdered Gillian and then turned the gun on himself.

A number of great tragedies occurred that morning: two people lost their lives and a small child lost his parents. But maybe the greatest tragedy of all was that Ralph’s actions might never have come to be had more attention been paid to his behavior on the playground.

I met Ralph when we were both ten years old. My first recollection of him was tearing around the monkey bars. He was fast and not afraid of much, not much except the bigger kids. That was the summer after grade four. Later we were in grade five together. We talked with each other and we played on occasion as school boys do. He was always friendly to me and polite, and on one occasion I recall that he introduced his dad to mine at a Boy Scouts’ father-son banquette.

But Ralph Hadley had a very short and very bad temper. Ralph Hadley picked on the little kids too. Ralph was a bully.

Teachers, students and parents alike were all well aware of Ralph’s behavior and mean streak, his short fuse. The little kids were especially aware that if things didn’t go Ralph’s way someone might get hurt.

Was Ralph’s behavior ever addressed? Probably. Was Ralph ever reprimanded for his bullying? I know he was, I witnessed it. But Ralph continued his bullying throughout junior school. The root to Ralph’s bullying though was never addressed, and the bullying was never addressed seriously. Had it been Ralph would never have shot Gillian in the head.

Sometimes when one parent brings to the attention of another their child’s aberrant behavior, well, sometimes that parent should listen. The sooner the child’s behavior is addressed, corrected and maybe even the cause treated, the sooner that child will become socially accepted by its peers and eventually grow up to be a contributing and responsible member of society.

When I heard the news that fateful June morning I was shocked at the violence but not necessarily the actual event. Deep in my mind Ralph was fully capable of the act and in some way it was predictable.

We as a society failed Ralph as a child. Had he been properly reprimanded for his behavior, had that behavior been fully addressed and the cause for it sought out, these tragedies might very well have been avoided.

Pay attention to your children’s actions, to the unsocial behaviors they will sometimes display. Quite often their peers will correct them in the way they react with each other. Sometimes though we as parents need to uncover the reasons our kids act in a certain way.

Sometimes dogs aren’t just being dogs, and sometimes boys are not just being boys.

Ode to Christmas on a Boat

‘Twas two days from X-mas, the 23^rd of December

Forecast a green Yuletide, first I could remember

The ice it had melted, the snow it was gone

The grass it was green, under the sun as it shone

Then all of a sudden, from out of the south

The wind it starts blowin’, and rockin’ me ‘bout

The boat she's a-bangin’ up against the dock

The geese they were a-honkin’, not quite ready to flock

The ducks were a-quackin’, the crows all a-caw

The birds all a-movin’ off the pier’s all I saw

Then off in the distance, high over the spit

Was this sleigh I see flying, was I having a fit

No it’s true what I saw, I tell you no lie

Through the smoke of my barbee, eight, not nine reindeer did fly

They circled around, high above the boats

And landed on the water, the sled was on floats

The deer they were splashing, all flailing around

To the boat ramp they swam, and found solid ground

The fat dude at the helm was soaked to the skin

The white fur of his coat, all matted and grim

He stumbled from his sleigh, tripped off the port float

And removed his sodden dripping, red great fur coat

Into the back of the sled the coat he did heave

It was empty of course, this not being Christmas Eve

T’wards my dock he does walk, at an awkward lopy pace

Until he’s right there, right there in my face

He looks me in the eye, then spits on the ground

Says, “You’ve been a bad boy, Word’s getting’ around!”

Well what can I say? Do I have a defense?

This here’s the Big Guy, lying to him just don’t make much sense!

So I shrug my shoulders, I stare at my boot

And plead for forgiveness instead of some loot

“Well I’ll ponder it” he says, “I can’t promise a lot

“What I need right now’s my pipe and a shot”

So I take him below, and pour him a drink

He crashes down on my bunk; I and I start to think

Why’s he here? What’s he doin’? What’s the story? What’s the scoop?

Is he lost? Is he travelling? The question’s just moot

I stare at his face and he stares at mine

After we finish the cognac we break open the wine

We toss back some red, get carrots for the deer

Crack open the white, then start on the beer

I light my pipe and then he lights his

The cabin fills with smoke, my mind’s just a fizz

The he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a pouch

Flicks silvery dust in my eyes, my mind it screams “OUCH”

All of a sudden I’m sober, vision clear, mind unscathed

Brain full of wonder, Oh what a rage!

For the first time he smiles, can’t help but smile back

His eyes still piercing, stare sharp as a tack

“So you think you’re worth forgiving?” He asks with a jeer

“You think I should forget about you dining on deer?

“That was venison I smelt as I flew over your pier!”

Well what could I say? What could I do?

It tasted so good, did HE want some too?

But I held my peace, I bridled my tongue

I begged for forgiveness and pleaded long

“Well” he said, “I’ll overlook it this time”

“But watch where you’re shooting, don’t get out of line

“And two days from now, when you’re snug in your berth

“The loot that I leave you will reflect what you’re worth”

And with that he left, walked back to his team

Pulled on his coat as I stared all a-dream

He took to the sky, yelled “Tally-ho”

And as he vanished from my view, it started to snow.

Neil Thomasson

The Orphanage

I can’t imagine the fear a child must feel when he or she no longer has a parent they can rely on or have faith in. Many children throughout this world are in this position. Some babies are born only to be orphaned: some lose their parents to war, natural disaster, disease, and even ethnic cleansing.

But what might seem an even greater tragedy are those children that are emotionally orphaned. Boys and girls living with parents that are emotionally, physically or sexually abusive. The parent is there, but instead of providing a nurturing, healthy and productive environment to grow up in, the child lives with fear, led to believe that they are at fault.

Unfortunately there are children living like this in our own communities. Living in our neighborhoods, not some third-world country half a planet away. They might even be living next door.

We are fortunate in Canada to be blessed with many resources to ease the difficulties in our lives. One is the Kids Help Phone. http://www.kidshelpphone.ca/ Kids Help Phone offers abused children and teens a phone number they can call or an email address they can write to where they can ask questions and receive answers to the most serious of their concerns. A good friend and neighbor of mine dedicates much of her time to helping this resource procure the money (and awareness) required to offer this service.

Charmaine Loverin, survivor of child sex abuse uses her art as a vehicle to drive awareness to organizations that are making a profound change to protect our children. Three out of five children sexually abused are abused by someone they trust. She wants our children to truly distinguish what trust looks like and this campaign is a way of showing how Kids Help is making a difference for our kids who are leaning more towards speaking through the Internet. Kids Help Phone is all about helping kids in more ways than one.

I Have Something to Say

PR Release, October 2009

If you would like to support Charmaine’s cause (or simply offer her encouragement) you can contact her on Facebook: She’ll be in my friends list. Or simply go the her website, http://www.charmaineloverin.ca/

October is Childhood Abuse Prevention Month. Let’s all do something, no matter how big or small, to make life for the children in our communities healthier, rewarding and productive. But most of all, safe for them in their homes. What you do is up to you.

How Much Time Do You Have?

Let’s not fool ourselves. We really don’t have less time today than we did years ago. Sure, it seems like we have more to do, we seem to have more pressing responsibilities. But really, we don’t have less time. We simply have different priorities. And maybe different wants. But our needs haven’t really changed. And we still do have the same amount of time.

We just want to do more.

But what do we want to do more of?

I know some people that are doing more. What they’re doing though is helping their less fortunate friends, neighbors and fellow citizens; citizens of this country and of the planet.

A few of my friends have made the choice to use their time, and not just their spare time, to help make the world better for those that are disadvantaged.

I’d like all my followers to check out a blog with images contributed by a client of mine. Actually, I’d rather call her a friend. Her name’s Catherine, she’s a talented photographer and a wonderful personality. Since late last month she’s been in Africa documenting the work of a group of teenage girls from the Toronto area as they try to help a group of their peers in east Africa.

Here’s the link: girlimpact.org

After you read of the volunteer work Catherine’s involved with, check out her personal blog: www.documentographer.com/blog . I check it quite frequently. And her images are beautiful.

Preserving the Past

I’ve been driving now for 27 years. Yesterday though was the first time I’ve ever run out of gas! Now there was that time in the UK when I realised I wasn’t going to make it as far as the gas station (petrol in the UK of course) but my aunt drove me and a jerry can to the station and back.

Today found me accelerating up a hill and as I changed to third the hesitation was unmistakably brought on by a lack of fuel. Sure enough, a hundred meters or so later the bike was going nowhere. The fuel switch indicated I had already depleted the reserve tank. There was nothing to do but pull to the side.

Half an hour later my brother had arrived with a litre or two and I was off again but this time headed straight to the local Shell station.

Later that evening at a family bar b’que that quick cell phone call to Matthew got us all talking about just how far our ability to communicate one with another has come over the years. Less than 45 years ago some of us didn’t even have a phone. Twenty years ago we were still using a party line at Dave’s cottage. Now I don’t even have a land line; I use a cell phone for everything.

So what did we do in the past? It would have been a long walk to get gas, or at least half an hour to a pay-phone, maybe longer. Would I have been better prepared? Maybe I wouldn’t have gotten myself into the situation at all. Or maybe many years ago I’d have considered the time to walk for gas not as inconvenient as I would now?

Let’s face it, we manage our time, and expect more from it now than we ever did! We used our time for different chores. Twenty years ago, forty years ago and especially one-hundred years ago our time was used to do things that modern conveniences no longer require of us. But now we have less time!

Last week I noticed that jars of jam bought at the grocery store have expiry dates on them! They’re preserves! The reason they have expiry dates is because they’re not made with enough sugar! The manufacturers use thickening agents instead of time and sugar to make them set. Then of course some artificial form of preservative; not sugar a natural preservative.

So, what does this have to do with phones and me running out of gas? Throughout the many years you and I have been on this planet there have been many advances to our quality of life. The ones I’m thinking about right now are mostly conveniences. Some of those conveniences are great, cell phones for instance. Look at the time my cell phone saved me yesterday! But some aren’t so great; fruit preserves with expiry dates!

Why don’t we take some of the time saved due to our new conveniences and use it to do some things like we did in the past?

A dozen mason jars will run you between seven-fifty and ten bucks at Canadian Tire. Three dollars will get you a kilo of sugar and your local fruit/veg stand will supply you with enough locally grown fruit to fill those jars for less than five. A packet of gelling agent like Certo will cost you another three dollars, and if you’re patient you can eliminate this item. Four hours and twenty dollars later and you’ve got yourself twelve jars of no “best before” dated, homemade jam. Get organized with five other friends, arrange a swap date and you’ve got twelve jars of six assorted varieties of homemade preserves. Take a trip to the grocery store and those twelve jars of jellies and jams will cost you more than forty dollars!

This week I’m going to preserve an act of the past by preserving the fruits of the present. The use of my cell phone saved me two to three hours at least this Saturday. I’ll use that time later one evening to preserve for my future. I’m looking for five others that would like to join my endeavor and later this month swap preserves.

Who’s up for some preservation?