Posted on June 24, 2021 under Thursday Tidbits with 4 comments

 

Beach finds

 

Potpourri.

It’s a fancy word but in my world, it means “a whole lot of nothing”.

When I don’t have a topic or theme for my twice weekly piece, I resort to writing about anything and nothing to fill up the page. So, here goes.

Life is a series of beginnings and endings. One chapter ends and another begins. When I decided to leave the north, I realized that this latest phase of my life was over. It hit home hard in the past few days when I received my final pay from my school board along with the arrival of my personal belongings. It didn’t really hit me until I started to unpack my boxes from the north.  I turned on YouTube and had a playlist going, while I unpacked kitchen items, clothing, and memories.

Bittersweet.

I’m not sure whether it was nostalgia, the music or the can of beer I was nursing that made me a bit misty eyed. It just seems that time passes so quickly at this stage in my life. The last two years are a blur. Yes, the experience was intense and there were many long days and sleepless nights at the outset but when you are unpacking boxes that had been previously packed just 24 months earlier, it seems like a mirage. Throw in Covid and it all feels surreal.

One of the songs on the playlist was “Shallow”. Music was a big part of my salvation in Kangiqsujuaq. In the early days when I was flailing, one of my new colleagues, invited me to sing some tunes with her. With a 45-year age gap, finding common ground wasn’t easy. She suggested a few songs from the latest iteration of “A Star is Born”. I had seen the movie and was vaguely familiar with the songs. As a duo, we did a credible version of “Shallow”. She was an excellent Lady Gaga and I was a pathetic excuse for Bradley Cooper… in looks and musical ability. As the song was playing in the background, I realized that we might never get to sing together again. That was a gut punch. The good news is that Annie is from British Columbia and at least there’s a chance that I might see her again. Such is not the case for my Inuit friends.

I can’t say that I received an overwhelming response to my invitation to join a writer’s circle. It could be lack of interest or Covid… or maybe hanging out with me for an hour and swapping stories has as much appeal as a trip to the landfill. I don’t expect any ‘in person’ sessions will happen before the fall, but I would certainly entertain the idea of meeting via Zoom. That way, anyone on the planet can join in. Let me know if you are interested and if not, we’ll jump in a car and drive to the dump!

Sometimes, the older generation wonders how the next generation will manage in a very complicated, messed up world. I have evidence that we will be in good hands. On my trip back home from the north, I had to spend a night at one of the airport hotels in Montreal. The next morning, I had a socially distanced visit with my daughter, granddaughter and my daughter’s boyfriend. Ivory Fleming is 13 and attends F.A.C.E. F.A.C.E (Fine Arts Core Education) is situated in the heart of Montreal near McGill University. Besides offering a standard curriculum, it also incorporates the arts into the program including music, theatre and visual arts. It is regrettable that every school in Canada doesn’t offer this type of programming. Without culture, our communities lack a soul.

When we met at the airport hotel, Ivory was telling me about an initiative that she and a number of her friends were working on to change the dress code at the school. Dress codes have always been contentious especially when it comes to enforcement. What one teacher or administrator might find offensive, often barely raises an eyebrow with others in similar positions. Ivory and her friends petitioned the school’s administration to look at the dress code. They did their homework and looked at other schools’ dress codes. To make a long story short, they were able to convince the school that changes needed to be made. Recently, Ivory was interviewed by radio station CJAD in Montreal. Here is the interview: https://www.iheartradio.ca/cjad/audio/montreal-student-fights-her-school-on-dress-code-rules-1.15467037 (Please note that some browsers have a default to block ads. The interview starts after an ad at the beginning. If you can’t listen to the interview, blame it on your browser!)

The future is in good hands. Congrats to Ivory and her colleagues for their activism.

I sure wish I could get my arse in gear. I have been trying to get the motivation to continue writing my 7^th book. I realized that when I got home, there would be a lot of baggage to unpack, especially the emotional kind. I vowed not to write anything until after my quarantine. A few days ago, I thought Indigenous Peoples Day, would be the perfect time to start writing. Not so. “The spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak”.

Have a great weekend.

P.S. Book update. Yesterday morning was so crappy that I decided to get back to book #7. I’m presently working on the chapter where Covid has just become a big story (February, 2020).

Posted on June 17, 2021 under Thursday Tidbits with one comment

 

Photographs and Memories

 

“There are places I’ll remember,

All my life, though some have changed,

Some forever, not for better,

 Some have gone and some remain.”

In My Life – The Beatles

It started innocently enough. I went looking for an old document.

There was a time in my life when I fancied myself as a somewhat organized person. Back in olden times, I was a copious note taker and journal keeper, of the hand -written variety. I had filing cabinets that were meticulously organized. When I was in business, I had day planners that I kept for years. I was involved in a lot of organizations and kept minutes of meetings, some as far back as 1981. I even kept copies of marathon training schedules…. and old birthday and Christmas cards. You get the picture.

When I retired (the first time!), I kept one of the four drawer filing cabinets from our office and took it home to store all of the aforementioned memorabilia.

This begs the question. Why in the name of god would any sane person hold on to documents and newspaper clippings for 50 years? Do we actually think that our children and grandchildren will ever look at this collection of detritus after we have “slipped the surly bonds of earth and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings”? I doubt it.

On the morning of the “first day of the rest of my life”, after completing my quarantine, I started the day in style with a pleasant 2- hour walk. I then bumped into a neighbour who asked me a question which required me to go rooting around in my filing cabinet.

You will recall that I said that I once was an organized person. It appears that in retirement, I quickly became a disorganized person, and my filing cabinet was a clear refection of this. A number of times over the past several years, I have gone looking for something, usually coming up empty handed. Such was the sad state of the filing cabinet that I would have had an easier time finding the Dead Sea Scrolls or Oak Island gold.

I cautiously opened the first drawer. I don’t discourage easily but when I looked at the mess in front of me, my first instinct was to immediately close it and go watch Netflix. My MacDonald/O’Flaherty blood has a stubborn streak in it, and I was determined to find the old document.

After the first hour, I was sweating as I hauled pile after pile of papers to the kitchen table to go through them. Out came the first, large blue plastic recycling bag.

The purge was on.

Something clicked in my head. I thought of the Nike ad exhorting us to “Just Do It”. I decided that this was the day that I would slay the beast and go through all four drawers, undertaking a massive cull.

Many of us have had the unenviable but necessary task of being an executor. While dealing with the mounds of paperwork required to wind up an estate is a formidable job, dealing with the deceased’s personal items is even more daunting. What does one throw out and what does one keep?

I thought about this as the first blue bag was full to bursting. A second bag was hastily assembled by the kitchen table. My thoughts turned to my executors. Little did they know that I was about to make their lives infinitely easier when my time comes. I don’t mean to be maudlin, but we entered this world with nothing, and we will leave the same way. In my case, the only difference is that I entered the world with more hair than I have now!

I must admit that it was a serious trip down memory lane. For hours, I pored over photos and documents that I hadn’t seen in decades. I sent one particular newspaper story and photo to my children. Fifty years ago, I won a golf tournament and the local paper, The Casket (a casket of jewels and not the kind one might find in a funeral parlour!) snapped a picture of this geeky looking guy who had a full head of hair. I posted the picture, not to brag about my victory, but to assure my loyal readers that there was a time that going to the barber was necessary and not the show of vanity it is these days.

The other newspaper clippings I decide to keep surrounded a most unusual event that people in my hometown, of a certain age, will remember vividly. In 1992, the Town Council of Antigonish decided to offer homeowners a tax holiday. I was on council at the time and while I wasn’t the architect of the plan, I happened to be the chair of the finance committee. The initiative received a lot of attention locally, provincially, nationally and even internationally.

Several hours later and “three bags full”, the job was finished. It was cathartic.

Oh, yes. I never did find the document that I was looking for!

I failed to mention that my filing cabinet is kept in a large storage closet. The storage closet was in even worse shape than my filing cabinet, if that is humanly possible.

The day after the big purge, I decided to go “all in “and tackled the closet. My closet is now a “walk in” rather than a “stumble over”.

It feels good to simplify and to know, at last, where everything is situated in my apartment.

As long as I can remember where the closet is located, I should be fine!

Have a great weekend.

Posted on June 10, 2021 under Thursday Tidbits with 2 comments

Yes. Be kind

 

“We can bridge the distance,

Only we can make the difference,

Don’t ya know that tears are not enough.

If we can pull together,

We could change the world forever,

Heaven knows that tears are not enough.”

Tears Are Not Enough – Northern Lights

Are we a racist country?

Are we anti-Black?

Are we anti-Indigenous?

Are we anti-Semitic?

Do we have anti-Islamic tendencies?

Are we anti- anyone who doesn’t look like us or speak our language?

Sadly, I think the answer is possibly yes.

First of all, we are all immigrants or descendants of immigrants with the exception of Indigenous people who have inhabited the land for millennia. As far as I can tell, my roots are in Inverness, Scotland and Tralee, Ireland.

It saddens me that we have to have an entity called Black Lives Matter. It is devastating to see four innocent Islamic people run over on a sidewalk. It is heartbreaking to learn of the 215 young children, unceremoniously buried in a mass grave in Kamloops. It is pathetic to know that our own Atlantic Provinces is home to people who hate Jews.

I am not a historian, a sociologist or an anthropologist. I am not going to try and explain that which cannot be explained: man’s inhumanity to man. What in the hell is wrong with us? What gives us the right to be intolerant?

It is easy for many us to finger point, sitting in the comfortable pew.

Now, I am being unduly harsh, using the royal “we” flippantly. I am pretty lucky. I have been blessed with great family and friends over my lifetime and as far as I can tell, we are not overtly racist. I realize that this is a sweeping generalization. I believe a very close examination of conscience would reveal that just about everyone of us has either uttered something racist or had racist thoughts. “Let him who is without sin, cast the first stone.” John 8:7

During my quarantine, I have been doing a lot of thinking about racism. It seems to have dominated the news lately. I am particularly distraught by the events in Kamloops. It is much more personal to me after having spent the better part of two years in an Inuit community. I had an opportunity to meet and talk to, people who attended residential schools. A few admitted that not everything was bad about these places. Some attributed their success in life to the good education they received but this, I believe, is a minority opinion. The scars of residential schools are evident.

What is even more shocking is that some of the churches who inflicted much of the damage have refused to own up to their transgressions.

I have a Jewish friend in Victoria, B.C. She told me recently that her grandsons go to a Jewish daycare which is attached to a synagogue, and she fears for their safety. In Canada. So sad and disturbing. She went on to say that no one, anywhere, should be persecuted for being who they are. I couldn’t agree more.

What is it like to be a minority? I got a taste of this when I travelled to India five years ago. Walking the streets of Hyderabad and then Kanyakumari, I certainly received a few stares but never felt uncomfortable. I walked the streets at night alone and never once felt threatened. When I went into shops to buy things, nobody followed me around suspecting me of thievery. Nobody pulled me over on the side of the road just for being white.  I can’t imagine what it is like to constantly be the victim of racial profiling.

Not all Canadians are racist, and it would be unfair to hang that label on the country as a whole.

The best I can do is examine my own conscience.

The second best thing I can do is to be kind and tolerant.

How about you?

Have a great weekend.