Posted on June 11, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with 3 comments

BLM Peace March

 

I am not an authority on race relations.

I am not an authority on policing.

I am not an expert on conflict resolution.

I am not a historian.

Last Saturday, June 6,2020, I attended one of the most extraordinary events I have ever witnessed in our small town. The Black Lives Matters Peaceful March was an opportunity for our community to come together to acknowledge that there is a problem. The recent death of a young African American man at the hands of police was the catalyst for the rally. George Floyd’s death sparked outrage all over the world.

When I heard about the march, I mentioned to one of my daughters that I expected the usual suspects to attend. I have attended other peaceful demonstrations in our community in the past and every time I, go, I see a group of people deeply committed to social justice. She suggested that this was one gathering that I really must attend.

I didn’t take lightly my decision to be a participant. Like so many other people, the coronavirus has made me leery about being in any crowds. Like so many other people, I have recoiled watching other demonstrations, wondering and worrying about social distancing. I felt like people were being irresponsible. The easy thing to do was to stay home.

My son and I decided to go to listen and to learn. It was a calculated risk to go. I cannot speak for black people but from what I know and from everything I’ve read, it appears that black people take a calculated risk every time they leave their homes. For more than 400 years, people of color have faced discrimination and racism. And lest we think that somehow we in Canada are “holier than thou”, we don’t have to look far to see examples of systemic racism including racial profiling, racial slurs, and acts of violence perpetrated on people because of the color of their skin.

Columbus Field is just around the corner from where I live. We put on protective face masks and made the short walk to where the rally was being held. After several months of our Main Street being a virtual ghost town, on this evening it was jammed with vehicles as a steady stream of people made their way towards the meeting place.

It was quite a spectacle. In all my years, I had never seen such a large group of people assembled in our town. People filed in slowly and 95% of them were wearing masks. Those who didn’t have masks were offered one by a team of volunteers including a local physician. People at the entrance were asking people to show respect by exhibiting social distancing practices.

I am 68 and in the “at risk” category. I do not have underlying health issues, but my age is a factor. I made a conscious decision to stay near the outer edges of the field. There were groupings of family bubbles. From where I was standing it appeared that most people were keeping their distance.

There were several speeches which were heartfelt and dignified. We were all asked to take a knee for 8:46. I was standing on gravel and then I was kneeling on gravel. I will admit that it was uncomfortable. That is, until I started thinking about the incident in Minneapolis. You could hear a pin drop as a hush fell over the crowd, estimated at upwards of 4,000. I’m guessing that there was emotional discomfort for many in the crowd as well thinking about our own contributions to the problem while wondering if we could be a part of the solution.

The march itself was very well organized. While video and still pictures make it look like people were bunched up, there was actually quite a bit of space between walkers. Again, one realized that some groupings were family bubbles. I don’t believe that anyone in attendance was being selfish, reckless or inconsiderate by taking part. Was it perfect? No, but nothing in this world is as far as I can tell.

I saw people from every walk of life. It was pretty obvious that they too had weighed the pros and cons of attending and decided that staying home was simply not an option.

I was barely back home when invective spewed forth on social media. I was immediately lumped in with thousands of others who, in the eyes of some, lacked intelligence by attending the march. “There is no cure for stupid” was a common thread “liked” by several people on Facebook. I have seen this epithet used widely, and in many circumstances, it is warranted. There might not be a cure for stupidity but there is also no place for racial intolerance.

We all want things to return to normal, whatever that is but one believes that there are some things that need to change because the way people of color are treated is simply not acceptable.

As mentioned from the outset, I am NOT an expert on policing. I haven’t been a police officer, so I don’t understand the inherent risks and challenges of the job. My guess is that a great percentage of law enforcement officers are decent, caring people. Policing of towns and cities is under the microscope and the whole notion of “defunding” police forces is quickly becoming a part of our new lexicon along with flattening the curve.  Many are suggesting that the present- day model of policing needs a serious overhaul with some of the money spent on policing being diverted to other programs.

One model is being closely examined. The city of Eugene ,Oregon has a program called CAHOOTS which stands for Crisis Assistance Helping Out on The Streets. CAHOOTS provides mobile crisis intervention. ( https://whitebirdclinic.org/services/cahoots/) According to their website, “Each team consists of a medic (either a nurse or an EMT) and a crisis worker who has at least several years of experience in the mental health field.” Check out their website.

The pandemic is causing seismic changes all over the world. It is hard to imagine that things will ever be the way they used to be. This is a once in a generation “re-set” where everything is being re-evaluated.

This might be the best opportunity in decades, if not centuries, where we have a chance to right some historic wrongs.

Black Lives Matter.

Posted on June 8, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

 

Paradise Lost

 

I’m supremely ticked off.

Now what, pray tell, has Len in a lather? Nothing, actually. I don’t lather easily these days with a bald head.

Last Thursday was one of those glorious spring days. The air was devoid of humidity, the sun shone brightly, and there was a gentle breeze wafting through the air. I went for a morning walk where I realized for the umpteenth time how lucky I was to live in this town, this province, and this country. All the leaves of the trees are now in bloom and the birds seemed particularly cheerful that morning.

I texted Pete late morning and we agreed that it would be an ideal day for a long hike. Having already hiked Sugarloaf on multiple occasions, as well as a few walks through the Keppoch and Fairmont Ridge, we opted to go and do the trail at Ballantyne’s Cove. I had done it once before a few years ago and remembered it fondly.

We parked the car just off the road on the Lighthouse Road, walked across the highway, and began our ascent. We both commented on the lovely smells emanating from the new foliage. After walking for about half an hour, we reached one of several glorious lookoffs. We were able to look down at the wharf at Ballantyne’s Cove and all up the coastline. Off in the distance, we could see Cape Breton Island. I mentioned to Pete the stark contrast between this and some of the very crowded cities that I’ve been in over my lifetime. We were gazing at paradise.

This feeling of bliss was short lived. Paradise morphed into purgatory and then into pure hell.

I couldn’t recall from my previous walk around this trail how long it took to get to the wharf, followed by the 2 kilometer walk back up the highway to the Lighthouse Road to retrieve our car. Around the 45- minute mark, we were passing through part of the path that was a bit swampy when I heard Pete yell, “Oh, crap.” Truthfully, that’s not what he uttered! Both of his legs were covered in ticks. He frantically brushed them off. I was preoccupied with his situation and didn’t pay much attention to my own well being until I got to the other end of the swampy area. When I saw blood dripping form my leg, I knew that a tick had found its mark.

Having once before experienced a tick embedded in my shoulder a few years ago, I wasn’t too alarmed. I took a kleenex out of my pocket and removed the tick before he gained entry under my skin. I had merely suffered a flesh wound. There were a few others on my socks which I was able to brush off.

Back on a dry path, we felt relieved to have that little piece of drama behind us. We soon realized, however, that that was just the beginning of our travails. For the next hour and a half, we spent inordinate amounts of time removing ticks. Sadly, five of them managed to land and remain on me long enough to turn me into a walking blood bank. We encountered many large trees downed by a windstorm. They were strewn across the trail at various intervals requiring us to go over, under and around them, picking up even more ticks. The further we walked, we came to the realization that these nasty insects had targeted the old and frail person in much larger numbers than the young and strong member of our twosome.

Just before exiting the woods, after what felt like an eternity, we captured one of the ticks and put it in Peter’s water bottle.

I was never so glad to see asphalt in my entire life. It’s fortuitous that no one stopped to offer us a ride up the last steep 2-kilometer incline. They may have reported a zombie sighting to the authorities.

We returned to my apartment. I stripped off all of my bloody clothing and immediately put it in the washing machine. I jumped into the shower and watched the water run off my body in pink rivulets.

We cracked open a cold beer. After all of the extra exertion in the woods, including jogging the last 15 minutes of the trail, we were dehydrated.

As many of you know, ticks come in a number of varieties. Some can cause Lyme disease. Wanting to rule this out, we took a picture of the tick and posted it on Facebook. It didn’t take long for the public to weigh in. Several people took stabs at identifying the offending object while other dispensed medical advice. It was suggested that a) I call 811; b) that I apply Vaseline to the affected areas; c) that I use rubbing alcohol. After the fact I became aware of “tick kits” and Atlantick Outdoor Spray.

Not having any rubbing alcohol for external use, I did what any self-respecting Maritimer would do. I opted for the internal use of alcohol and grabbed a second can of beer.

I was made aware of an app (thanks LM) that can help a person find out exactly what kind of tick has attacked them. I downloaded the app at eTick.ca. We sent off a picture and two hours later received definitive word. Prior to this, a good friend and respected veterinarian, Alyssa informed me that the tick in the picture we had posted was a dog tick. eTick had come to the same conclusion.

The drama was over.

The following morning, I was out for a walk. Coming through a path at the rear of our apartment building, I stopped amongst a stand of trees and chatted with a neighbour. I felt something bite my arm. Instinctively I recoiled. I put my hand to my arm and came up with bloodied fingers. You cannot imagine my relief and joy when I discovered that I had been bitten by a garden variety mosquito. Rarely has a mosquito bite ever felt so good.

I entered my apartment, cleared away this latest bloodletting, and turned on Youtube. I thought it was only appropriate to listen to an old Jethro Tull favourite… “Tick as a Brick”!

Have a great week.

Posted on June 4, 2020 under Faces in the Crowd with one comment

 

David Phee  1956-2020

 

“His heart gave out.”

David grew up in a busy and loving household, the youngest of nine children. Faith was their bedrock. Saying the rosary daily and attending mass were very important to the Phee family. To this day, some members of the family still occupy the same pew at St.Ninian’s that they’ve occupied for decades. Throughout his life, David would rarely pass by the University Chapel or St.Ninian’s Cathedral without stopping in for a few moments of silent prayer.

Because of the wide discrepancy in ages of his siblings, David grew up ostensibly with two families , and both doted on David. It was hard not to because of his pleasant disposition, his decency as a human being, and his sense of humour. According to his sisters, “There wasn’t a person that didn’t like David.”

David was close to all of his brothers and sisters. He loved going for drives and having long chats. He enjoyed his fishing trips with Norm and was often seen with Eddy having coffee at Tim Horton’s. After six of his siblings died, he, Bette and Joan formed an inseparable trio.

A dedicated employee at St.F.X. University, David was forced to take early retirement because of health issues.

David had many hobbies including the collection of sports cards and memorabilia. He loved to dance, bowl, and go fishing and he loved tinkering with electronics.

I met David a couple of years ago when I performed music at the R.K. for the residents. I walked in to Tanglewood for the first time to do a concert for a group of residents. I spotted this gentleman with a 1000 -watt smile sitting towards the back of the room, proudly wearing a Toronto Maple Leaf jersey. Being a big Montreal Canadiens fan, I simply couldn’t resist the temptation to saunter over and tease David. I could tell in an instant that he was special. He laughed easily at my good- natured ribbing and then dished out some of his own. A new and lasting friendship was born.

Over the ensuing months, I got to know David very well. I performed every week in Tanglewood, where he resided. I could never leave without singing his favourite, “The Gambler”. Several times, while walking from one section of the home to the other, I would drift into Tanglewood just to say hello hoping that David would be around, such was his infectious joy of living. David was a favourite with the staff because of his ever- present smile and pleasant disposition. I am certain they will miss him terribly.

While he loved music, he worshipped his sisters even more. Joan showed up routinely and often arrived bearing cheese snacks and break-open tickets. Bette travelled up from Kentville often to see her younger brother. His eyes lit up whenever family or friends came to visit him. He adored his nieces and nephews. He proudly displayed photographs of them and their children in his room.

When I spoke to David’s family after his death, they told me that he had been suffering from heart issues for years which led to his admission to the R.K.MacDonald Nursing Home in Antigonish three years ago.

David enjoyed the simple pleasure of life and although he suffered with chronic health issues, he maintained a positive attitude, always choosing to look on the bright side of things.

According to sisters Joan and Bette, “David was an amazing listener and enjoyed hearing what others had to say. He was a people pleaser as well and liked to jokingly tease others to keep the mood in a room happy and upbeat. He really was a ray of sunshine in any room.”

On May 29,2020, David’s heart gave out for the last time.

His heart had been giving out to others his entire life.

Rest in Peace, my friend.