The Week Between

It’s that interregnum between Christmas and New Year.  What the retailers call Boxing Week.  For many it is time for a rest.  A time to clean up after Christmas and to think about the New Year – 2014.  Some still have to work.  Those in retail, those who could not get the time off, service workers of all kinds still work.  But for those lucky enough to get the time off, it can be quite special.  It can be time to spend with the children as they play with their Christmas toys or spend time with relatives come to visit.  It can be a time to spend with friends.  It can be a time to just relax.

But not everyone is having good time.  Weather has hit many parts of the country with a cruel blow of winter.  Ice storms, snow storms, bad roads and power outages lasting many days are all too prevalent this year.  Power outages have hit New Brunswick, Quebec, and Ontario, most notably Toronto.  We here in Ottawa escaped the worst, but it did bring back memories of the ice storm of 1998.  The freezing rain lasted longer that year, and some people were without power for up to two weeks.  Nonetheless, any such event is a catastrophe for those experiencing it.

One news story from Toronto had people asking, “Why us?”  To which there was always the sarcastic answer, “Because of your choice of mayor.”  But that wouldn’t really satisfy anyone.  Besides, I don’t think God is political (but that may be a debate for another post).

One the one hand, it may be considered a logical question for those in the middle of it.  On the other hand, it could be interpreted as, “Why us?  Why not somebody else?”  In that case, the question could be considered arrogant, as in, “We’re Toronto the good.  Things like this don’t happen to us.”  There has always been a certain arrogance in Toronto.  There has been an attitude that the world, or at least Canada, revolves around Toronto: that Toronto is special; that Toronto is the centre of all that is important in Canada.  So the charge that their question, “Why us?” shows a certain arrogance seems justified.  Maybe they would rather be in New Brunswick where there have been not one, but several storms over the past week, most of which have caused more power outages or at least slowed down the work of restoring power.  There and the rest of the Maritimes have been hit by wave after wave of winter storms this year.

Believe it or not, there is one person in Toronto who I feel sorry for – their mayor, Rob Ford.  Not to dismiss any of the things he has done over the past year or so, but in this instance, he has had a raw deal.  Every time you see pictures of him on the news this week trying to talk to the people, he is accused of messing things up.  The reality is that there is, in a practical sense, little that he or any other mayor can do.  He cannot go out and fix power lines himself.  He cannot cut down bent and broken tree limbs by himself.  What he has done is go out among the people and listen to their complaints without trying to be too political or to put any of the people down.  He is accused of not declaring a state of emergency, but one wonders what good it would have done over and above what is already being done.  In fact, according to a recent city council decision, Rob Ford is not supposed to have any powers to deal with this.  He could have stayed home and watched for opportunities to revile his political opponents. Instead, he went out and put himself on the firing line in front of Torontonians and the national press.  No matter what you think of any of Mayor Ford’s other actions, in this instance, give the guy a break.  So lighten up, Toronto.  Yours is not the only city or area which has had a crisis this year.  And this winter is only starting.

Happy New Year to all of you.  May 2014 be a better year for people everywhere.

For my Loyal (?) Readers

Thank you for following my blog.  I want to wish all of you and your families a very Merry Christmas.  May it be a day for peace, happiness and love for you all.

Cheers,

Gord

The Despair before Christmas - Part 2

A work of fiction.  ©Gordon Forbes, 2013

Light

The first time, it had felt funny being in a church.  Jane and he had been occasional visitors at best.  They almost never went to church two weeks in a row.  They had tried different churches wherever they lived, but none had felt welcoming or comfortable.  But there he was, sitting in the back pew of a small church not far from where he lived.  He hadn’t paid too much attention to the actual service that Sunday, although the music sounded nice.  He was too caught up in his own thoughts . . . why he had come . . . when was the last time he and Jane had been in a church . . . what did he want to get out of being here.  He said a polite hello to some of the people and to the minister as he left.  Later he couldn’t even remember what denomination the church belonged to.

The second Sunday he had gone back for some reason.  Again, he didn’t pay too much attention to the service.  But this time, he did pay attention to the people that surrounded him.  He noticed young families, older couples and a few lone souls.  A mixed bag to be sure.  However, the one thing they all seemed to have in common was a look of contentment; almost universal happiness.  The minister announced that next Sunday would mark the beginning of Advent.  The man tried to remember what that meant.  After the service, he stopped and said hello to a few more people, and actually talked to one or two of them.  The minister was very friendly and hoped the man would return.  Still, he felt lost and alone in that setting.  The atmosphere was friendly and welcoming, but the man could not get over the feeling that he was out of place . . . that he did not belong.

‘So this is Advent’ he thought at the service the next Sunday progressed.  This time he paid more attention to the service and really enjoyed the music and the message. There seemed to be a lot more people at this service than previous Sundays.  When it was over, there was coffee and treats being served.  He found himself standing next to an attractive middle aged woman who he had seen in the distance at other services.  They began to talk . . . small talk about the weather and the church service mostly.  She said her name was Karen and he gave her his.  She seemed quite nice and said that she hoped to see him next week.  Later, he felt that he had been cheating on Jane.  He should not be getting friendly with other women.  It was disloyal.  But it had been nice talking to her and it was all quite innocent.

The next week, Karen said, “You’re becoming quite a regular here.  Why did you pick this church?”  He said that it was handy and he had just kind of stumbled into it.  Nonetheless, he was enjoying it and particularly the services leading up to Christmas.  He was finding it a bit comfortable and intended to keep coming, at least through the holiday.  She asked him if he was going to come to the pot-luck dinner the following Saturday night.  He said he wasn’t much of a cook and hadn’t been socializing much.  She persisted and said that she could bring enough for two.  After some more cajoling, he finally agreed and they agreed to meet at the church next Saturday. 

But again, afterward he felt that he had betrayed Jane.  He wanted to ask someone else for their opinion, but didn’t know who.  The uncertainty lasted all week and made him even sadder about the upcoming event.  He was tempted to call and cancel several times, but, of course, he didn’t know her last name or her phone number.  He supposed that he could call the church and ask them, but that seemed like a lot of trouble, so he didn’t try.

Instead, the following Saturday night found him at the church, looking for Karen and feeling a great deal of trepidation.  She showed up with two big pots of food and asked which one he wanted to claim as “his”.  Since he wasn’t sure what was in either one, he told her to just pick one for him.  She laughed gently and thrust one of the pots into his hands saying, “Now we better get these into the kitchen before the meal starts.”  They sat next to a couple who seemed to know Karen.  He introduced himself, and they all settled into plates full of every imaginable kind of food.  It was all good and the conversation was pleasant.

“What do you do?” he was asked and he told them that he was a business man, without going into detail.  They asked where he lived and he pointed vaguely toward his house.

Karen asked him about his family.  Suddenly, he had an overwhelming need to open up and tell her about his late wife, his children and, as the night progressed, about himself.  They talked during and after the dinner, through the entertainment and on the walk home.  It turned out that Karen also lived within walking distance of the church, but in a different direction.  So on that chilly but clear night they walked and talked right to her door.  Then he took the even longer walk home wondering what Jane would say about all this. 

At home, he sat with a nightcap staring out the window still wondering.  And as the cognac gently warmed him, he felt at ease and easy with the new relationship.  It was as if Jane were saying, “It’s all right.  You were always faithful to me right up until the end.  But you have to continue to live for yourself.  I won’t mind.”

He saw Karen twice more that week.  A movie one night and dinner out another.  But this wasn’t an affair in any way.  It wasn’t a romance.  It was more like a bonding of loneliness.  Each needed company and each wanted someone to talk to.  So they opened up to each other, he more than she when he looked at in hindsight. 

Christmas

“What are you doing for Christmas?” asked Karen on the Sunday before the holiday. 

“I don’t know.” he said.  ‘What am I going to do? All my bravado with John and Janet have left me at a total loss.’ he thought.  ‘Oh well, I made my bed and now I get to sleep, fitfully, in it.’  “I thought I would just spend a quiet day alone.  Last Christmas wasn’t a great experience for me so I have mixed feelings about celebrating.  What about you?”

“Oh, I have my Christmas ritual.” she said, “Would you like to join me?’ 

‘I don’t want to get wrapped up in any new ritual,’ he thought, but he said, “I don’t know, maybe.” thinking ‘Why did I say that.  Now I’m committed.’

She looked positively thrilled by his answer.  “Good!  Can you pick me up about ten o’clock on Christmas morning.” It was a statement, not a question.  “And don’t get all dressed up.  This is a very casual affair.”

So Christmas morning, he got up and had a cup of coffee, assuming they would have something to eat at her house or somewhere else.  He picked Karen up at the appointed time.  She jumped into the car eagerly and they wished each other a Merry Christmas.  She then directed him to drive toward town.  When they got close to downtown, she again directed him to proceed through town to the area one would consider the other side of the tracks. ‘Where is she taking me?  Does she have some poor relations that I’m supposed to meet and entertain?’  These and other thoughts raced through his mind.  ‘What have I got myself into?  Is it too late to back out?’

When they got on to a side street in the dingiest part of the city, she directed him into a small parking lot between two plain brick walls.  They got out of the car, he with some trepidation, and walked to an old metal door leading into the building with the highest wall.  “I hope you’re ready to work.” Karen said as he pulled open the door for her. “W…work?”  he replied in his most articulate fashion.  “We came here to work?  Doing what?”  “You’ll see.” was all she said.

As they entered the door, the smell of food and the sizzle of cooking held out some promise that maybe they would get breakfast now.  Through a narrow hallway, they entered a large room set up with rows of tables.  To the left there was a large kitchen with a long counter opening into the room.  Several people were working in the kitchen and several greeted Karen with “Merry Christmas, Karen” and “Glad to see you again”.  A couple of people wanted to know, “Who’s your friend?”  So he was introduced to assembled group as a new worker.  He stood there dazed.

“So what would you like to do?” someone said to him, “Mash potatoes, stir the sauce or set the tables?”  He opted to work in the kitchen where Karen was already busy.  An apron was thrust his way and he went to work thinking, ‘What is this all about?  What am I doing here?’

After an hour or so of mashing potatoes and stirring gravy, Karen came and led him to the counter where he was placed in front of a huge bowl of mashed potatoes and given a large spoon.  “Now the fun begins” she said.  Sure enough, at noon, the front doors to the room opened and a large crowd of the most motley people he had ever seen came filing up to the counter, picked up their plates and lined up for food.  ‘My God’ he realized, ‘we’re feeding Christmas dinner to the poor.’

And so for the next several hours, he quickly lost track of time, he and Karen worked side by side dishing out food to hundreds of people.  And the people, who looked so down and out, came with their thanks and big smiles to be served, sometimes several times over.  And somehow the supply of food kept coming: turkeys and gravy; potatoes and peas; dressing and cranberry sauce; and pies of all kinds for dessert.  And what a bunch he was helping to feed.  There was the dishevelled man who ceremoniously blessed every one of the servers as he passed.  Then came the old woman who looked so defeated when she came in, and so lively and almost attractive when she left.  Someone came in with a guitar and started a sing-along of Christmas songs and every person joined in.  There were young men and woman and old, some couples, but mostly people came in individually.  But most left in groups.  They came in hesitantly and looking lost, but they left looking happy and with a thank you for everyone who helped them. 

Sometime after nine o’clock, someone came over to Karen and him, and asked if they would like to eat up some of the left-overs.  When he looked around, he realized that the crowd had left and it was only the workers who remained.  He realized that he was ravenously hungry.  He hadn’t eaten all day.  But he also realized that he was happy, deliriously happy.  ‘I haven’t felt this happy since . . . since . . . well since before Jane took sick.’  And here he was among a bunch of people who he hardly knew and they had made other people happy. 

Later over coffee and pie, he asked where they were and how this came about.  Karen told him that this was an old church hall and that the people he was with were volunteers who had come together over the years to hold this Christmas dinner for the poor and needy.  “Geoff over there runs a grocery store and he comes up with all the food, mostly donations from different stores.  Helen, sitting next to you, used to be one of the ones who came here for a dinner each year.  When she finally got straight and got a job, she came back every year to give thanks by helping out.”  And what about you, Karen?” he asked.  “After my husband left me, someone brought me here, just like I brought you” she said.

When he got home after dropping Karen off with promises to get together the next day (today?) to talk about the days events, he sat down again with his nightcap looking out the window at the snow fall that had just started.  And he realized that this had been the best Christmas that he could ever remember.  Not once had he thought of himself today.  He had found himself smiling at the foibles of the new friends that he had served.  He hadn’t had time to brood about being alone and away from his family.  Tomorrow he would call John and Janet, tell them he hoped they had had a good Christmas, and try to explain what he had done.  Tell them about Karen, even if he did get protests of indignation over “another woman when Mom has so recently died”.

‘Jane.  I hope you approve.’  But somehow he knew that she would.

The Despair before Christmas - Part 1

A work of fiction.  ©Gordon Forbes, 2013

 Despair

It was wet, cold and miserable - not unexpected for late December.  Just the kind of day you didn’t want to spend at a cemetery.

‘Jane! Jane!’ he thought. ‘Why did you have to leave me?  The sickness came on so suddenly.  We only had a few months to deal with it, and now you’re gone.  36 years we had each other.  What am I to do now?  How will I go on living?  Oh Jane!  I love you so. ’

The man looked at the others gathered around the grave site.  There weren’t many who had come from the church to brave the weather for the internment. He focused on a handsome couple in their early thirties standing near him.

‘John, my son.  Where did I go wrong?  I should be very proud of your success.  You and Kirsten have made yourselves a very good life, wealth-wise, but at what cost.  When you were growing up you had such wonderful ideas . . . to save the world . . . to help people.  But when you went to university, all that changed.  You wanted success as you saw it.  Money, power . . . and apparently the two of you have got it.  Now even a family is out of the question since it might get in the way of the “plan”, whatever that is.  Maybe if we lived closer, I could have helped you have more fun.  As it is you are a dull person to be around.  All the pair of you can talk about is how well you are doing and what you’re going to spend your money on.  What will it be next?  A bigger house?  Another car?  More investments?  Why can’t you spend some to enjoy yourselves?  How about a boat or a cabin?  I still love you John, but you’re no fun to be around anymore.’

The man’s attention returned to the committal service which seemed to be going on forever.  He listened to the minister intone yet another prayer.  ‘Jane doesn’t need prayers anymore, she needs peace.  I need prayers . . . prayers about how I’m going to go on . . . how I’m going to survive.’

His gaze shifted to an attractive young woman across the casket from him.  She was very solemn and looked like she wanted to cry, but was being very stoic, not allowing herself the release. The man’s thoughts went to her.

‘Janet, my beautiful daughter.  Why don’t you let yourself go and cry.  I know you will later when nobody can see you.  You don’t always have to hide your emotions from the world.  I’m the man . . . I’m the one not supposed to show emotion, not you.  But look at me.  I’m crying . . . probably as much for myself as for your mother.  You were the one who wanted to set the world on fire.  Instead, you’ve made a very happy marriage and given us . . . me . . . two beautiful grandchildren.  I guess I have to start thinking “me” and not “us” now.  It’ll be hard.  For so many years we were “us”.  Janet . . . little Jane . . . maybe we should have spelled it “Janette” in the French manner.  You seem to have made a good life for yourself.  Frank takes good care of you and although you’re not rich, and probably won’t ever be, I’ll bet you’re a lot happier than your brother in the end.  I would love to have had Frank and the kids here, but you wisely said “No”.  It would be hard on them to see their favourite grandma buried. So Frank stayed home to look after them, and you have no one to comfort you.’

The man’s attention went back to the service as they started to lower the casket into the ground.  He wanted to scream, “NO!  You can’t take her!  I need her!  It’s not fair!”  But he just stood there, numb, cold and damp as his beloved Jane disappeared into the dark, wet hole in the ground.  The last earthly remains of Jane Semple McLeod née Sunderland.  He would never see her again. Never be able to talk to her again.  To sit quietly with her.  To make love to her.

After the last words were spoken by the minister, everyone started to leave quickly.  It was too miserable for idle chatter at the grave site.  However, two women did come over to the man.  Marilyn Draper and Ginette Joyal.  Jane’s two best friends.  They said that anything they could do for the man, he only had to ask.  They would be there for him.  But he knew that they would drift away soon without the presence of Jane to keep them together.  He might see Marilyn when he played golf with her husband, Steve.  He and Steve usually played golf about once a month over the summer, and he might get an invitation back to their place for a beer and maybe a meal.  But not Ginette.  Ginette was divorced and on the look-out for a younger man to try and revive her love life.  He was sure he wouldn’t see her again.

‘Those three were inseparable.  They had their coffee party every Monday, particularly after Marilyn and Jane quit working.  Ginette could take that day off after a busy weekend selling real estate. Should he get her to sell the house?  They also went to the movies every week . . . to all the chick flicks.  The ones they knew us mere men would not appreciate.  And of course, there were the suppers.  Every month like clockwork, rotating between their house and Marilyn and Steve’s.  Ginette didn’t entertain after her divorce, but sometimes she brought her latest.  Some real winners in that crowd.  The friendship had been good for Jane.  You were true friends . . . up until Jane became ill.  You visited her frequently at first.  But as she got worse you couldn’t stand it.  It was so hard to see your best friend sinking away . . . knowing you were going to lose her soon.  How do you think I felt?  I had to stay.  I had to watch her sink every day.  Some friends you turned out to be.  Maybe I won’t see you in the summer.’

John came over to his father.  “Come on Dad, let’s go and get something to eat.”  ‘Eat!  I don’t think I could ever eat again.  But I’ll go.  At least I can spend the rest of the day with them and have company.  Tomorrow they’ll be off home.  Why couldn’t they have stayed here where they grew up?  But no!  John had to make his fortune on the west coast “where the action is, Dad”.  And Janet had to marry a guy who got himself transferred to a strange city half way between us and her brother.  So what will I do after tomorrow?’

Depression

Eleven months it had been since the funeral.  People were starting to get ready for Christmas. ‘Oh God!  How can I think about Christmas?  How can I face it?’  Janet had called last week.

“Hi, Dad.  How are you?” 

He mumbled something about being okay, keeping busy.

“Are you sure you’re okay? 

“Yeah.  I keep busy and out of trouble.  I’ve got my work.  I’m thinking about getting a puppy for some company.” he answered.  But he was thinking, ‘A puppy?  Where did that come from?  How could a puppy replace Jane?  What would he do with a puppy?’

“Look Dad, Frank and I were wondering if you were going to come here for Christmas.  It won’t be very fancy, but you’d be welcome.”

“I don’t know.  What would I do out there?  You and Frank have your traditions and you don’t need your old, moping Dad around to darken the mood.”

“Are you sure you’re all right.  You sound almost depressed.  Have you talked to someone about it?”

Angrily he responded, “I’m all right!  Just leave me alone!  Your mother and I always spent Christmas at home, and I intend to do the same.”  On that note, he hung up, knowing immediately he had screwed up, but not being able to bring himself to do anything about it.

Was he depressed?  He didn’t think so.  What did depression feel like?  He didn’t know.  He did get annoyed when people kept telling him to cheer up.  Who were they to tell him how he should feel?  He kept going, but the going seemed to get harder and harder every day.  He found himself getting very defensive about little things, and he was getting paranoid whenever anyone said anything about him.  ‘Why are you saying that?  What have you got against me?’  He kept more and more to himself, even at work.  He worked hard to keep his feelings to himself at work, to keep his emotions under control.  But on evenings and weekends he just wanted to scream . . . scream at someone or something.  He was glad that neither Jane nor anyone else was around at these times.  He would probably have bit their head of . . . or worse.

John called a few days later. “You were pretty hard on Janet.” 

“Yes, I know.” he mumbled, “I’ . . I’. . I’ll call her and apologize.”

“Kirsten and I are going to the house in Mexico for Christmas.  Do you want to join us?”

“No, John, I still have to have snow for Christmas.  By the way, when did you get a house in Mexico?”

“Oh, I bought it for Kirsten in September.  It was supposed to be a holiday surprise, but I couldn’t keep it a secret for long.  It’s a great place, and with satellite internet and cell phones, we can run the business from down there for a few weeks.  Can’t keep out of touch you know, or business will go down the tubes.  You don’t need snow.  The weather will be nice.  We’ll have lots of friends here over the holiday, so you would have company.”

“John, your friends are all business associates and clients.  You spend all of your time talking deals and market news.  That’s not my kind of fun.  Besides, did you ever think of taking a bit of time for yourselves?”

“Now, now, Dad, there’ll be time enough for that later on.”

‘Will there?’ he thought.  ‘And wouldn’t you just be the most fun couple to be around for Christmas.’

“Besides,” the man said, “I’ve started to go to a church in the neighbourhood.  A very nice place with friendly people.  I think it will be nice to spend Christmas there.”

“That’s nice, Dad.  I hope you enjoy yourself.”  And with that the call was over.

The man thought about what he had just told his son.  He didn’t know what made him tell John about the church.  He figured that that was the last thing that John would want or expect to hear from his father.  There was no room for spirituality or other such frivolous things in John’s view of the world.  Oh well.  There was a long time in his own life when he thought similar things.  And with what God did to him last Christmas, he did not understand why he had walked into that church on that Sunday morning a few short weeks ago.

We Don’t Talk About That

They say that in polite company, you don’t talk about politics or religion.  Well, I’ve already talked about politics in this blog site, so I guess it’s time to talk about religion.

Let’s start by acknowledging that I consider myself a religious man; a Protestant Christian in fact.  The fact that I don’t attend any church has more to do with my issues with organized churches than any lack of religious conviction.  I read quite a lot about religion, both its chronological and spiritual history.  I read about religions other than Christianity; primarily Judaism and Islam, and the relationship between the three. I also read what the skeptics say as well; those who claim there is no God, or God is dead or, as Karl Marx said, “Religion is the opiate of the masses.”  None of that has shaken my faith.  But you didn’t come here just to hear about me.  The previous bit was for background.

So, let’s concentrate on the three great monotheistic religions: Judaism, Christianity and Islam.

The interesting thing about the three is that they all hark back to the same ancient Biblical person, Abraham.  To some degree, all three were built one upon the other, but Judaism is the most ancient and the first to espouse monotheism.  When Jesus arrived on the scene, Judaism and the Jewish state were in turmoil.  Internally, there was an ongoing struggle between two factions: the Pharisees and the Sadducees.  Think of them as the political parties and religious factions of the day, because they were both.  He who ruled the Temple ruled the population.  In addition, there was the cultural struggle between the Jewish culture and the growing influence of Hellenism, the Greek culture.  Throw on top of that the fact that the Jewish homeland was ruled by the Romans.  Jesus, I believe, saw his role as reforming Judaism, not starting a new religion.  Christianity grew out of the teachings of Paul who was trying to export the new teaching to the non-Jewish gentiles.  Similarly, Islam grew out of an attempt, largely successful, to integrate a part of the Middle East that was still full of small monotheistic and pantheistic groups, what we might refer to as cults. 

The Jews, as with many communities in those days, were ruled as a Theocracy.  The church was the state and the state was the church. Laws were only considered legitimate if they were issued by or with the endorsement of the church. This might seem at odds with my statement above that Rome ruled the Jewish homeland, but it is the difference in ruling the land and ruling the people. Rome ruled the land.  The Jewish leadership ruled on the day to day activities of the Jewish people, wherever they may be.  Hence, many different dos and don’ts were captured in church (and hence state) law: dietary restrictions; dress codes; laws controlling social interaction; and laws controlling interaction with other peoples.  This theocratic legal system was passed on to early Christians in the Roman Empire because this was, to some degree, what they were used to. Roman rule by this time was based on the concept that the Emperor was a deity. The result was that a lot of things have come down to us as “God’s will” that have nothing to do with religious spiritualism. Pure religion is the quest for the spiritual not the temporal. This is true to some degree or another for all three religions.  It was this tension between the temporal and the religious that prompted Jesus’ admonition to “give unto Caesar that which is Caesars and give unto God that which is God’s”.  It was the first statement of the separation of church and state.

Religion has been blamed for a lot of things: abuse; wars; terrorism; misogyny; even slavery, to name just a few.  And yet nothing in the basic teachings of any of these religions sanctions such things.  It is all caused by misunderstanding or purposeful misreading of these teachings.

Religion, or the perceived threat to “your” religion, is one of the most powerful motivations to get ordinary people riled up enough to go to war, or to carry out unspeakable acts.  It is not usually religion that causes these wars, it is the will of the powerful to protect or enhance their power. Ethnicity, religion and loot are the three great motivators for the people.  But the promise of loot can only go so far, for once people have it they no longer want to fight, but now want to enjoy it.  This leaves the other two motivators which are quite often intermingled since ethnicity and religion usually go together. 

Religion does not usually get recognition for the good things it accomplishes.  Its teaching of equality enhanced the idea of democracy.  Its teaching of community and compassion brought forth charity and help for the less fortunate.  Its teachings about respect (a word I prefer to “love” as it is used in the Bible.  In the lexicon of today, respect one another is probably more meaningful than love one another) brought forth the ideas about the worth of others, even enemies. Christianity, as it was first conceived, was a very socialistic message.  It is therefore strange to hear so-called Christian right-wing conservatives try to use the Bible to foster individual wealth and individuality.  These were the very traits that Judaism and Christianity preached against.

God, by whatever name, is often accused by individuals of allowing heinous acts.  Why would God allow earthquakes or floods, pestilence or massacres?  How is God going to solve our problems?  But that is not God’s role.  What our religion, our spirituality, does is show us how to rise above these tragedies; how to fix the problem ourselves; how to overcome the heinous acts of others.  Spirituality gives us the strength to persevere, to act wisely and compassionately, and to overcome our diversity. 

So during this period when we traditionally celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah and Eid, let’s try and remember what our religions really mean.  Let’s stop using them as excuses for temporal acts and start using them for the inner strength and compassion they were meant to achieve.

I hope that I have not shocked or upset anybody with this post.  It was not my purpose.  I just wanted to get us thinking about what religion really is or is meant to be during this season of religious celebration.

Nelson Mandela

In the death of Nelson Mandela, there is no question that we lost a great man.  The testaments from world leaders attest to the respect he was held in around the world.  What an extraordinary life he lived!

I particularly liked the tribute by Bill Clinton who likened Mandela to Mahatma Ghandi, the great liberator of India.  And it makes sense since both men hated violence and preached non-violence as the way to change the world.  One should also note that Ghandi also got his start in southern Africa as a young lawyer.  What a wonderful way to be remembered – as a man of peace. 

I think what most impressed me about Nelson Mandela was the fact that he always seemed to be smiling.  It was not a staged smile – it was a lovely, warm, benign smile.  It was a smile that attracted people.  You could imagine that it was the kind of smile that Jesus would have had. 

The most amazing thing about the man was that he did not get out of prison and start his transformation of South Africa until he was 72 years old. 72!!  Can you imagine it?  Most of us are happy to sit back at that age and rest on our (questionable) laurels.  Can you think of the unlikely possibility of a party leader or presidential candidate being selected at that age in North America or Europe?  But he became President of South Africa at the age of 76. 

But his greatest gift to his country and to the world was his determination that there would be no violence in the transition of his country after the horrors of apartheid.  Can you imagine being imprisoned for 27 years and not coming out with a heart full of resentment, if not down-right hatred? But instead he emerged with a determination to seek truth and reconciliation that became a model that the rest of the world needs to take heed of and try to emulate.  Do you suppose that F. W. deKlerke, the last white President of South Africa, knew what he was doing when he released Mandela in 1990?  Perhaps he realized that apartheid had to end, but to do so he had to find a black leader who could command the respect of the black people and allow a peaceful transition to take place.  If so, he truly deserves the Nobel Peace Prize he shared with his successor.

We have enough violence in the world, which doesn’t seem to solve anything.  We have to give peaceful reconciliation a chance.  We have to listen to the men of peace and try to follow their example.  One commentator said that there will never be another like Nelson Mandela.  I sincerely hope that the commentator is wrong.  I really hope that there are a lot more Nelson Mandelas in this troubled world.

God bless you Nelson Mandela.

Boundaries

By the 1700’s, the borders in Europe was pretty well settled along ethnic, linguistic and religious lines.  It had taken hundreds of years of fighting and strife to achieve this state of affairs.  Now imagine if some outside powers had come along and artificially created new boundaries that caused ethnic, linguistic and religious groups to be mixed within those boundaries.  Can you imagine the chaos and carnage that could cause?  After all, Europe was still able to find other grounds for wars well into the 20^th century.

But this is the state of affairs that Africa finds itself today.  If you look at a map of Africa from 1897, you will find that there are only four, relatively small independent countries.  There is Abyssinia (Ethiopia) and Morocco which were ruled by their own people. Both of those countries would later come under colonial rule. There is also Transvaal and the Orange Free State, both of which are white enclaves that would soon succumb to British domination after the Boer War.  The vast majority of the continent was controlled by European countries who had divided the continent along nice, straight geographic lines or river boundaries. 

We may wonder why there is so much violence in Africa today, but we only have to look at that map to answer that question.  The colonialists may have left, but they left a mess behind them, a mess that the Africans must now deal with.  One can imagine that, at some time in the past, these wars were already fought by primitive tribes to delineate their old tribal areas. 

To some degree, this situation also affects the Middle East.  Many of the states there that are now seeing ethnic violence, Syria, Lebanon, Iraq, are the product of artificial “spheres of influence” and “mandates” dictated by western leaders during the Paris peace talks of 1919 - 1921.  No consideration was given to the religious animosity between Sunni and Shi’ite Muslims, or to the small group of Christian communities.  After all, there was oil to be found and trade routes to be protected.

The latest case in Africa now is the Central African Republic.  Again, it is case of religious and ethnic strife with each side wanting power so that they can, in one case, protect themselves against a majority; and in the other case, prevent a minority from taking control.  We have seen too many of these type of conflicts in recent years; Rwanda, Lebanon, Nigeria to name but a few.

But we must not put too much emphasis on religion or ethnicity as the cause of these conflicts.  Conflicts are caused by the desire for power and the resulting riches that accrue.  Religious and ethnic differences are a way of exciting the masses who must carry out or support the conflict.  Old men in power cause wars.  Young men (and women) die in them.  In most cases, it is one group who want to take power that starts a conflict, be it war or civil war.  So we have these cases of conflict and their companion, genocide, such as the Central African Republic.  With the legacy that was left by their colonial masters of yore, it tragically seems almost inevitable.

Thus endeth the history lesson for today.

Black Friday

The pursuit of happiness is a most ridiculous phrase; if you pursue happiness you'll never find it.
  - C. P. Snow

This year in Canada we seem to have a new “special” day, Black Friday.  Now you would be justified in thinking that this has something to do with a collapse in the stock market or the day when dozens of people get fired from your workplace.  But no, it turns out to be an import from the United States.

As most of you no doubt know, the US celebrates Thanksgiving every year on a Thursday in late November.  You can tell this because there is more than one NFL football game on television that day.  Also because there are people popping up everywhere in what is supposed to be pilgrim garb. The day after US Thanksgiving, which is usually a Friday unless you ate and drank too much and didn’t wake up until Saturday, is what is considered to be the first day of Christmas shopping.  Almost no one works on this day, preferring to take a day’s vacation and make it a four day weekend.  So, since they are unable to eat more or stand their in-laws any longer, people go shopping.  This day has become known as Black Friday, presumably because it is the day when stores start making a yearly profit. 

I’m not against Christmas shopping; after all, there is a biblical precedent in the story of the Magi bringing gifts.  But I do believe we have got a bit carried away with the idea.

One of my favourite Christmas ornaments shows a cartoon figure of a woman carrying several large packages, looking somewhat harried and with the title, “Spirit of Christmas stressed.”  I like it because it seems to express what too many people go through at this time of year.  There is the rush to be the first to get their shopping done.  When people ask me whether I have my Christmas shopping done yet, I ask them if it is Christmas Eve already.  There is also the quest for the most Christmas presents, or the most expensive.  This seems to mostly affect parents and grandparents, who seemingly try to outdo each other for the honour.  How many toys and gizmos can you buy your four month old?  And most of all, these days, there is the ever greater quest for THE BARGAIN!  Bargains used to arrive starting on Boxing Day (a day that is not a holiday in the US) when shops would try and get rid of unsold merchandise.  Now it starts a month before Christmas with Black Friday being one of the biggest such days.  Who knew that the Magi’s legacy would be a sixty inch HD television?

Some may say that this is my annual rant against Christmas, but it really isn’t.  I love Christmas.  I’m as prone to giving and receiving gifts as anyone.  But my issue is that it needs to be kept in perspective.  Breaking the bank for Christmas makes no sense whatsoever if it impacts your financial health for the rest of the year.  Rushing out to be the first to get that big ticket item only adds to the stress of what should be a joyous occasion. 

I like to shop for the ones I love, even if they don’t give me a hint about what they might like.  I try to remember the religious significance of the season.  I enjoy hearing from people who I probably never hear from for the rest of the year.  And when it comes time for me to go Christmas shopping, I will go with patience and a smile on my face.  I will greet everyone with a hearty “Merry Christmas”.  I will forgive the impatient shopper who pushes ahead of me in line.  I will be kind to the tired, stressed sales clerk.  I will then return home, go down to the basement, enter a soundproof booth and scream curses at the whole unfortunate experience.

Until then, happy shopping.

Every crowd has a silver lining.
  - Phineas Taylor (PT) Barnum

A Sordid Little Affair

In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.
  - George Orwell

The break-in at the Watergate Hotel in 1972 was not necessarily a big deal.  One political party spying on another prior to an election was but a sordid little affair.  That was until there appeared the spectre of a cover-up after the fact.  Who was behind it all?  Was it directed by the White House?  If so, who in the President’s office knew about it?  The initial affair became irrelevant.  Rumours and hints begat a Special Prosecutor.  A White House staffer started to talk.  The President’s two main advisors resigned.  Then came more revelations and denials. Do any of you remember Richard Nixon’s “I am not a crook” speech?  And everything ended when a sitting President of the United States was forced to resign, something that had never happened before or since. It was undoubtedly the biggest scandal to ever hit Washington. All because of a sordid little break-in at the Watergate Hotel.

Another sordid little affair, this time involving improper expense claims by a Canadian Senator, is now demanding our attention.  And as with Watergate, the revelations of wrong-doing now go far beyond the two or three Senators originally implicated.  The focus of the scandal has now shifted from the Senate to the Prime Minister’s office.  The PM’s Chief of Staff has already been forced to resign.  And the PM keeps on repeating his version of the “I am not a crook” theme. 

Never believe anything until it has been officially denied.
  - Claud Cockburn

What finally got at the truth in the Watergate case was when the Special Prosecutor got the courts involved and people had to start answering under oath.  Although lies were still made and facts not revealed, eventually enough of the truth came out to identify those responsible for the cover-up.  And this in turn, eventually led to the President himself.  And in my opinion, this is what must happen in Canada.  However, it will be harder to accomplish in our form of government.  With all power in the hands on the PM, who may or may not be implicated, there is no one else to call in a special prosecutor or convene a judicial inquiry.  Nor does it seem that there is any way of getting in front of the courts unless a criminal indictment or a civil suit is brought forth.  The only one who may raise a civil case is probably Senator Mike Duffy, but I suspect that he isn’t too keen about the idea since he does not know who the defendants might be or what they may throw back at him.  So the only avenue left would be a criminal matter.  The RCMP seems to be heading that way with the recent disclosure of their Information to Obtain (ITO).  The most likely target for this is probably Nigel Wright.  They may also include Senator Duffy.  This would be a good thing no matter the outcome of these court cases.  This would at least force people to answer under oath and may get answers much closer to the truth than we have now.

For those of you who like conspiracy theories, how’s this for a scenario.  The PM and his staff, in order to get his plans for Senate reform moving (it has been sitting in limbo for two years), come up with a scheme to embarrass a few Senators and make the whole Senate look bad.  Question some Senators’ expanse claims because the public thinks only about money matters.  Everything is to be done quickly and quietly except for controlled disclosures.  And then things start to go wrong.  Someone comes into information they were not supposed to.  One of the Senators baulks at playing along.  He doesn’t want to be out of pocket.  And then things went even more horribly wrong.  Think about it.  The Watergate break-in was only supposed to get a bit of intelligence information about the opposition’s strategy.

Politics is made up largely of irrelevancies.
  - Dalton Camp

Short Snappers

Short Snapper postings will appear on this blog site from time to time.  They are made up of short, one paragraph observations of events or phenomena.

            The entire country, even continent, seems transfixed with the episodes of the Mayor of Toronto, Rob Ford.  News coverage of his trials are carried by CNN and every news outlet in Canada daily.  On-line polls in almost every city ask what should be done with him.  My view, however, is that Rob Ford is Toronto’s problem and he must be dealt with solely by that city.

            Our beloved leader . . . er, Prime Minister, Steven Harper, has had a knack over the years of pulling something out of the hat when his government is under attack.  Often this has amounted to something quite outrageous, such as proroguing parliament.  It will be interesting to see what he offers up in the next couple of weeks to take the heat off the Senate situation and the incessant questioning of the Leader of the Opposition, Tom Mulcair.

            As you drive down the road, do you ever wonder why BMW does not put turn signals in their cars?  If they do, however, include this feature, why don’t BMW drivers use them?  Maybe it has something to do with their complicated iDrive system.  It can be quite disconcerting to drive near one of these car/drivers.

            China is once again under attack.  This time it is for actually liberalizing some of their rules.  The poor country just can’t win.  (Stay tuned for a future blog on my views of China.)

            A new platform for video games was released this week, and of course it engendered great excitement.  But did you ever think about the amount of ingenuity, imagination and talent goes into the constant development of new games and platforms?  Can you imagine how much good could result if that much ingenuity, imagination and talent were turned loose on real problems like climate change or medical research?

Lest We Forget Part 3

You know, they could be all around you.  They may live on your street or in your neighborhood.  There are two on our street and two more who were once part of the group.  You may run into them in the grocery store or the gym.  They may be sitting next to you in the beauty parlour or the bus.  Who are these strange creatures?

They are military spouses, that’s who.  And in many ways they are the ones who also need remembering on Remembrance Day.  They are the real heroines and heroes behind so many of our military personnel and veterans.  I say spouses whereas some years ago I would almost exclusively have spoken of wives.  But today there are military women who are supported by their husbands.  But whatever the gender, they all must be remembered and honoured.

We see, of course, the Silver Cross Mother every year at the Remembrance Day ceremonies, representing mothers who have lost children to war.  But we never see a Silver Cross Wife.  Most people have no idea what it is like to lose a spouse in their young years, often with a family to raise and explain why Mom or Dad is not coming home. 

But the real story is with the day by day and year by year experiences of these spouses who see a service member through an entire military career.  They start the life with optimism and enthusiasm.  Unlike the military member, there is no basic training for the spouses in their new life.  They are not told how to withstand the long absences.  They are not told how to react when they hear of death or disaster; how to tell the children why Dad or Mom can’t be there for their school graduation; how to understand what often sound like inane or stupid orders from their spouse’s senior officer; how to give birth without their husband; how to support other military spouses when they need help; how to uproot their homes every couple of years because their spouse has just received a new posting.  And they don’t tell you that you will have to do this year after year for as long as your spouse chooses to stay in their military career.      

“The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served the family nothing but leftovers. The original meal has never been found.”
  - Calvin Trillin

But the really amazing thing is that so many military spouses do all that and more.  They run the household. They cook the meals. They manage the household budget.  They pay the bills and do the shopping.  They get the kids off to school every morning and get them to bed every night.  They don’t complain (much) when the biggest snow fall of the year arrives two days after their soldier or sailor deploys for the winter or for a year.  They referee the sibling arguments.  They get everything ready for the next move and then unpack everything at the other end.  They attend the parent teacher interviews that you can’t.  They keep the small, daily disasters a secret from you when you’re away.  They don’t turn to you for help when the furnace breaks down because they know exactly what to do, or know someone who does.  They do this all by themselves because you are busy fighting terrorists or pirates or helping out in a natural disaster; because you are doing your job. And for some of them, the day comes when they have to tend to your damaged body or mind, or they have to arrange to have you buried.  They truly are heroines or heroes.  They deserve our praise because they allow your soldiers, sailors and airmen to protect your country.  So when you shake the hand of a person in military uniform, give their spouse a big hug too.

So here’s to Mary and Barb, Lynne and Verna and Pat and Monica and Bev and Marlene and Alice and Sue and Denee and John.  God bless them all and so many more.

“If the Navy had wanted you to have a wife, they would have issued one.”

Numerous Navy Chief Petty Officers when I was a young officer

Lest we Forget Part 2

The following poem was sent to me by a fellow Kootenay survivor, Burt Tiffin.  Burt was a hero of the Kootenay disaster being eventually credited with saving the lives of eight men by rescuing them from the main cafeteria which was full of thick, acrid smoke. But he never got proper recognition for that deed.  Burt and I got to know each other during the writing of my book, “We are as One”.  We continued to correspond for the next couple of years until he passed away in early 2012.  He told me of the cruel fate that had been assessed him when he was forced out of the Armed Forces in 1974, five months short of being eligible for a military pension. Sounds familiar based on recent headlines.  Burt died still fighting with Veterans Affairs for adequate treatment.  So here’s to the memory of Burt Tiffin – sailor, hero, poet.

Final Quest

I hope there’s a place way up in the sky

Where sailors can pass when their end is nigh

A melancholy place where they’d lend an ear

For a friend or comrade whose memory is clear

A place where no doctor or lawyer could tread

Nor a management type would e’er be caught dead!

Just a quaint little place, kind of dark, full of smoke,

Where folk love to sing loud, and enjoy a rowdy joke.

 

There must be a place where old sailors go,

When their legs feel unsteady, and their gait kinda slow,

Where the liquor is old, and the women are young,

And songs about sailing and dying are sung.

Where you’d see all the mates you’d sailed with before,

And they’d call out your name, as you pass through the door

Who would buy you a drink if your thirst was bad,

And relate to others, “He was a good lad.”

 

Through the mist and din, you’d spot an old guy

You had not seen in years and thought he had died.

He’d nod his old head and grin ear to ear

And say, “Welcome my son.  I’m proud that you’re here!

For this is the place where true sailors come

When the battles are over and the war is all done.

They’ve come at last to be safe and alone,

From the government clerk and management clone,

Politicians and lawyers, the Feds, and the noise,

Where all hours are happy and these good ol’ boys

Can relax with a cool one and a well-deserved rest,

This is Heaven my son, ‘Your Final Quest.’”

 

Adaptation by Burt Tiffin, 27 September, 2010