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?

There’s no such thing as a free lunch...

It’s hard to go anywhere in the downtown core of Toronto and not be confronted with those that beg. Most ask for change, few are aggressive, But few receive a positive reaction from the public. A lot of us believe that these people are panhandling, lazy, and not wanting to work individuals. And the begging has spread. Living in the beach I see them daily. Sitting on the pavement, begging pennies.

Few of these folks receive more than the quickening of the pace away from them or an “I don’t have any change”. But many of these folks are truly deserving of our change. Or if not our change, maybe a cheap meal. And at least a kind word.

My local grocer has a deli section that sells prepared meals. The packaged ones you grab on the way home late from the office. A chicken leg with rice and some green beans: or mashed potatoes and a pork chop. Later in the evening these hot meals are half-price: guess they’re going to be thrown out anyway. So I’ll grab one with my daily shopping. Then I’ll give it to the panhandler at the corner.

Some of us have been led to believe that beggars are asking for change to buy drugs and alcohol. I’m sure many are. But the majority truly need your loose change to buy a meal. So why not buy them a meal? Or give them an apple from your bag of groceries?

So what do I mean by there being no such thing as a free lunch? Well there are free lunches, aren’t there? A company rep or an important client will quite often buy you lunch. Or your boss buys you lunch. When your boss buys you lunch don’t for one moment think it’s free. You earned that lunch. You also earned the lunch that sales rep bought you. You just didn’t pay for it out of hand.

You went to work one morning with five bucks in your pocket. Your boss bought you lunch. You’re going home that evening with five bucks more in your pocket than expected. So why not use that five-dollar bill to buy the homeless person you see every day on that busy yet lonely street corner?

Believe me, that’s not a free lunch to that person either. That person begging change on the pavement has paid for that meal with their self esteem, their pride and the scorn of most that pass him by.

Lessons Learned...

Lessons learned... or not

Garbage pick up has resumed in this city of ours. Most have had 3 pick-ups. We in the Beach have had two pic ups of garbage and one of recycled materials. Tomorrow we have another pick up of recyclables. We were all inconvenienced by this work stoppage. It made some think quite extensively about the way this city is managed. It made a lot of us question the amount of waste we create. But some have decided that the city, and its residents need to stop creating physical and fiscal waste.

On almost every street corner of this city resides a gaggle of newspaper boxes. Some of them demand coins to open and remove the contents. Others though are open to all and their contents are free to all.

But are they really free?

These free daily periodicals may be free to those that read them, but they’re not free to those that don’t read them. The residents of this city pay for the clean up and disposal of them. Most free newspapers end up littering the streets of our city. They wind up on TTC property, in parks and on park benches, in the gutters and vacant spaces, especially throughout the fringes of the downtown core.

Ironically, most of these publications would want you to believe they promote public awareness and claim the higher ground when environmental issues become the flavor of the day. In fact, the publication most likely to be found littering our streets has just published a cover article entitled “The 100 Mile Myth”. How can a publication promote an ethical environmentally responsible way of life, yet create a publication that encourages litter and wastefulness in the way it delivers its message?

The city would do well to ban free periodic publications. It should at least ban the distribution of unsolicited publications. Ban boxes on street corners that don’t require payment to open. If a publication is free, it should only be available at the publisher’s office or delivered to the reader’s home and only if requested.

Free publications, including mass mailings of junk mail cost us all in disposal fees. We as tax payers pay for the clean up, pick up and disposal of all discarded printed products. No matter if they’re delivered to us free, deposited in newspaper boxes at no charge or simply left at street corners.

Free printed matter, whether advertisement or editorial isn’t free. We all pay for it. If it wasn’t printed no one would have to pay for it. The city should not allow it to be printed in the first place!

I’ve become soft in my old age. I’m really not that old, but I’m older than I was a number of years ago. What do I mean about becoming soft? Well it’s the whole “what you eat is what you are” thing.

Happy city... Happy food

I’ve started buying eggs that are free range. Costs me an extra buck fifty or so. I’ve also started buying pork from the market. What it comes down to is I’ve started buying happy food. If the critter I’m eating was happy throughout its life, it’s gotta be better for me and better for the whole grand scheme of things. Happy food equals happier consumers!

I still hunt, and I still fish. But if I shoot something in the bush, or reel something in on the lake, I know it lead a productive and natural life. A happy life!

If everyone in the city were to buy a dozen free range eggs each month instead of factory eggs, we would be promoting happy chickens and happy food!

I’d much rather eat fried eggs from birds that scratched and picked from the dirt than from some factory floor, in a one foot by one foot square cage.

Let’s eat happy food, and be happier!