Being Special

I have been thinking a lot lately about being special or rather the need to feel special. I suspect that most if not all humans are born with the need/desire to feel just a little bit special - a little bit different than any one else. We want to be able to hide within the herd for protection but at the same time we want to be recognized as having something unique about us. Even those who take delight in being a wallflower in the gymnasium of their life have a well hidden wish to be noticed as being something special.

People are becoming just a little pushy in their demand to have someone, anyone, recognize that they have a special interest, or have a special need or have done something special. I would be okay with that except for the fact that so often that individual also wants special recognition for their uniqueness. All too often that recognition is defined in terms of extra services or programs and the resultant demands for financial support.

I have no doubt that most of the causes that are being championed by people who honestly believe that their need is special should be supported. My only question is: how do we decide whose cause is "more special". For example there is a young child who has a rare disorder whose medication will cost one million dollars a year - there 12 or so such individuals in Canada. There are hundreds of children waiting for specialized support so that they can be more successful in school; there are even more children living in the northern parts of our country who have inadequate access to food, schooling or housing. The list of people who have some sort of special need that we need to support is endless.

It sometimes feels as if everyone is demanding to be recognized as being special, as if everyone needs to receive some token of their uniqueness. In our collective impulse to stand out from our peers, it feels as if some are suggesting that our "special-ness" makes us if not more important than others, at least more worthy of being noticed, more worthy of being supported.

However, far more insidious than the squabbling over who gets the most funding, is the constant demand from the advocates who seem to have a need to blow their own horn at every opportunity. There was a time when people in the community worked for the public good without praise or reward - just because it needed to be done. Thee was a time when parents did what they needed to, to support their children because it was what parents did. There was no expectation of praise or glory.

I recognize that people's lives are busier now than they were 40 years ago. I recognize that the expectations and demands on people may be higher than they were on their grandparents - but just because we do our jobs well, just because we do what we should do, it is not a reason that we should decide that we are special

We should not expect rewards for doing what is right.

Holidays

On holidays for next two weeks

National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls

The final report of the MMIWG has been submitted to the Federal Government. Depending upon who one believes - the inquiry cost somewhere between $53 million (1) to $92 million (2). No matter how one looks at it, that is a lot of money. In the politically correct enthusiasm for the report and its recommendations, no one will dare question whether or not the money was well spent.

I have suggested ever since the inquiry was first announced that it would do little to address the issues that we should all know, need to be addressed. To the best of my knowledge, no new information was discovered, no easy panacea to the crisis was discovered and even worse it did nothing to stop the level of violence that is being perpetrated against Indigenous women -in fact, the rate of violence did not decrease during the inquiry. The report made numerous recommendations, but it is unclear whether there will ever be the political will to provide the necessary funds to create an environment where change is possible.

If the main purpose of the inquiry was to give answers to the families who have lost mothers, daughters or sisters - it failed. If its purpose was to allow the families to share their anger and grief and hopefully effect some sort of closure - then it was an incredibly expensive and perhaps not very effective counselling process. If its purpose was to discover how the law, the police and the courts have continually failed to address the issue of violence perpetrated against Indigenous women - we already knew that. If the purpose of the inquiry was to demonstrate the damage caused by decades-long mismanagement and underfunding of all support services- there are enough documents, studies and reports already published. One would have to be totally cut off from all news or else be absolutely indoctrinated into an Eropecentric view not to realize that Canada has had, and continues to have specific policies that are racists.

We should not get sucked into the rabbit hole that is the debate on whether or not it was genocide. To do so would absorb all of the little energy Canadians have for this issue - and nothing would change. Instead, we need to direct our energies to the things we know might work:

I am not too sure why, but it appears as if the various levels of policing in Canada attract people who more easily fall into the lazy habit of pigeon-holing people who look different than them. Clearly, there needs to be a more inclusive and rigorous selection and training process. How we train our police officers must be changed so that it becomes part of their culture that racism is never okay. Equally as important, the front line supervisors must be better trained and monitored to ensure that no decision is ever made based solely on the race of the victim or alleged perpetrator. Every victim has the right to have someone hear her story and to know that it will be pursued with the vigour equal to any other case.

We need to ensure that Indigenous women have the opportunity to be successful in whatever field they chose. This means better educational choices, better funding, more support - whatever it takes to reinforce the idea that they are valued members of our community. No woman should ever feel as if they had no choice or that they are unprotected by their community.

It would be a violation of human rights and in fact racist to suggest that men who perpetrate violence against Indigenous women should be treated more harshly. It would be tempting to be satisfied if those men were punished at the same level as were men who hurt non-Indigenous women. However, the reality is that far too often the courts do not consequence men nearly harshly enough for those types of offences. At a bare minimum, the courts (including the Crowns who lay the charges) need to stop considering the race of the victim before proceeding.

These types of changes could start to happen tomorrow. No laws would need to be changed - just follow the law as it is now written. The amount of money required to increase opportunities is minimal compared to its benefits. We just need to get on with it.

The fact that so many Indigenous women have been damaged, or have gone missing is an embarrassment to all Canadians. For us to do nothing about it is disgusting and unacceptable.


(1) cirnac.gc.ca/eng/1470140972428/1534526770441?wbdisable=true#chp8
(2) https://nationalpost.com/news/politics/with-federal-government-set-to-grant-38m-more-mmiw-inquiry-budget-will-hit-92m

How A Dentist Ruined my Holiday

In less than a week's time, I will be heading to Ontario (by plane). I will spend two weeks there visiting family and watching both of my Ontario-based grandchildren graduate from their respective schools. When that is all done, I will get on a train to Winnipeg and then hitchhike back to the island. It is not much of a trip, a far cry from those days when I hitched from Sudbury to the West Coast and then back again, or when I crossed the country twice in one year or when I included a stop in Yellowknife on my west. I think I may be getting just a little bit too old for all of the excitement of hitchhiking - or more likely my body is starting to fall apart. However, no matter how short my trip is - I should be a lot more excited.

For the past 17-18 years or so, I have hitchhiked long distances. In every one of those years I started to dream of travelling along the roads, the spots I would stop at, what my drivers would be like in late January or early February. Every year I was consumed by the desire to just get out on the road and travel. Every year except for this year. It is not that I have not, on occasion, found myself drifting into some fantasy about the open road because I have. But the dreams, whether I have been awake or not, have been much shorter, much less exciting.

There is no doubt that my concern about my ageing body and whether or not I can abuse it one more time is part of the diminished anticipation. There are some bloody long hills that I will have to climb to get to a good spot, and every year those high steps into a truckers' cab feel just a little bit more impossible to get up. For the first time, I have a little nagging sense of fear. But the real reason why, in the past month or so that my excitement has not grown to an almost unbearable pitch is my dentist.

I do not like dentists. They cause pain, they cost money while they, along with their staff, pretend to be nice people - why they bother asking me how I am when I arrive at the office is beyond me. How do they expect me to feel? I am at a bloody dentist office!!

A month or so ago I was experiencing some discomfort (to use the medical term - actually it hurt a lot). The doctor told me that I had an infected root and that there was little hope of saving the tooth. I needed to get it extracted. I did so a few days later.

Two weeks ago I went back to the dentist for a more thorough check-up and was told that I had two more teeth that were infected and that I needed to go see a specialist. I went yesterday and he suggested that the teeth could not be saved and needed to be pulled. It is worthy to note that all three of the teeth had had a root canal and a crown. Thousands of dollars wasted. Hours of discomfort and even more hours worrying about the procedures, the needles etc etc.

I have spent the last 4-5 weeks not sleeping well, in a state of dread and fear. It is hard to focus on anything else when I know that some stranger, along with his assistant is going to be jabbing me with sharp things, making my face feel all weird for hours afterwards and leaving two gaping holes in my mouth - won't that be an attractive sight? And while they are doing this, experimenting with how many implements of torture they can fit into my mouth, along of course, with their four hands - they will chat back and forth to each other about their weekend or their kids. Every once in a while they will ask me if I am okay. Of course, if I am not they will continue to work away.

I will not be getting those two teeth pulled until I get back....but even if they never hurt - I will not be able to forget what will happen when I return. Thank you doctor for messing up my holiday plans......

At the Market

Two weekends ago I attended both the Duncan and the Cedar Farmers' Market. During those two days, I had record sales. I made more in those two days than I had ever made in any other two days. It was wonderful. The problem, however, with having a day or two of record sales is that the next time one goes to the market and does not do as well - it feels as if it has all been a bit of a waste of time.

This weekend I was back at both of those markets. I did not do nearly as well - or at least it did not feel as if I did. But I did fine. In fact a year ago I would have been quite content with my total weekend sales. It is all a matter of perspectives and for me - remembering why I go to the markets.

At my first market of this season, it was windy, cold, wet and generally miserable. It was the kind of day when vendors wonder not only why they are standing in the cold and rain but also why anyone in their right mind would come out to shop. About half way through the morning I noticed a small bus pull up and a number of seniors getting off of it. Why anyone decided that a group of seniors from either a community-based group or a retirement home needed to visit the market on a really lousy Saturday morning is a question for people far brighter than me. However, the folks were in a good mood and seemed capable of ignoring the weather. A couple of them stopped and chatted with me as I tried to spin (it is much harder to spin when one is shivering).

I do not remember exactly what we talked about, but I imagine it was my usual conversation. Someone says - that looks so relaxing - I say something like "it is" -and then go on to talk about me sitting at home with my tea on one side and on the other side, my tablet playing an audiobook downloaded from the library and what a good life it is. Sometimes I talk about preparing the wool and how messy my house is with dust balls that are large enough to hide small children floating down the hall, other times I talk about where the wool has come from and the impracticality of trying to make a living from selling wool. Sometimes the visitor is or was a spinner or a knitter and so we talk about various projects, what kind of wool they like and the high cost of buying wool from a wool store.

I have these conversations throughout the day. They all sort of run together and most of my chats with the shoppers are not particularly remarkable - but this Sunday, a lady came up to me, knelt down beside me and said that she worked with seniors in a retirement home. One of the ladies in her knitting group at the home had talked to me at the Duncan Market. She had enjoyed the chat and had told everyone about our conversation. Our brief conversation had struck a note with her and it had perhaps if not inspired her, at least made her feel that she was still connected to an interesting part of the world.

I sell my weaving to make money - I need the money to pay for my hydro and for my food. I sell my things because I love playing with wool and if I didn't sell them -my house would be crammed with rugs and shawls etc. But I also go to the markets because I want people to have a connection to what they see every day. I want them to know that anyone can make textiles, that everyone should know where the things they use come from. I go to the market because I want to connect with the people in my community.

It is great when I sell lots of items. It is great when people spend what is to me a lot of money on a rug - it validates how I spend my time. But it is even better when I know that a conversation has had an impact on someone. That lady, on the cold wet Saturday morning did not buy anything - but she gave me something more important. Record sales days are great - meeting nice people is even better.

Raptors and the Cost of Seats

I like watching basketball on television. It is a fast-paced game that requires a level of skill and fitness from all of the athletes on the floor, attributes that are not always apparent in other sports. I wish I had seen more games live. In fact, I have only seen two professional matches - one involved the Harlem Globetrotters years and years ago and another just last fall when I saw a game played by teams from a second or perhaps even third tier basketball league. The odds of me making it to a big league game in a major city are somewhat remote. The odds of me making it to a Raptors' playoff game are infinitesimally smaller.

It has been reported that, if one wants a really good seat to watch the Raptors compete in their first ever championships series - it will cost up to $30,000 for your seat. I like basketball and I would really like to see the kind of show that a professional basketball team put on but I think I would rather buy a new electric car than go to a playoff game. At least in an electric car, I would get more than one seat for my money.

I understand that professional sport is business just like any other business. I get that the sole function of such a business is to make money for the owners. I also understand that both the corporation and the scalpers who will sell the tickets for even more have a limited number of games in which to make that money and therefore they need to gouge as many people as possible.

Part of me wants to scream out that it is just not fair, that in a society like ours we should all have access to the same type of opportunities; that surely there are people who deserve to go but won't be able to because of the cost. I have no doubt there is a little boy or girl whose life would be forever changed for the better if only they could go to a Raptor's game. But the reality is that going to a playoff game is not a human right. It is a social privilege accorded to a relatively small number of individuals, individuals who have both the capacity and desire to pay that amount of money for a few hours of entertainment. For that amount of money, they also get the vicarious pleasure (hopefully) of winning a game and I suppose, some sort of bragging rights around the office water cooler the next day.

For the rest of us, we will just have to suck it up and pretend that it really doesn't matter to us.

But in some ways, it should matter to everyone. In this hyper-inflated world that we live in, where some people are rewarded with millions of dollars for jumping or running or skating better than the rest of us; where we value possessions and "star" quality over hard work, commitment and basic human decency; in a world where bad behaviour is forgiven if the person has sufficient political or financial power, we need to recognize that maybe, just maybe our priorities are a bit misaligned.

Someone has to win the NBA championship - I hope it is the Raptors. I, like thousands of other Canadians who will not go to the game, and do not have access to the right cable channel to watch them on television will still quietly cheer them on. But I do not think I am alone in wishing that I go afford to go to a game. A little electric car might have at least two seats and its value would last much longer - but it would never be as exciting.

Whose Garbage Is It?

Canada's reputation as a reasonable and fair trading partner and an over-all good guy has been tarnished just a little bit more by the fact that we deposited 103 containers of garbage in the Philippines and for months have refused to go and get it.

All of the parties concerned agree that the containers came from Canada and that, instead of the recyclable material that the containers were supposed to contain, they contained household garbage, the stuff -including dirty diapers - that we would send to our local landfill sites. The kind of garbage that the Philippines never agreed to take. As such, there would appear to be little doubt that someone in Canada is responsible to ensure that the garbage comes back to Canada or goes elsewhere so that it can be disposed of properly. My question is why is it my problem?

I don't understand why the Government of Canada should be responsible for paying for the return of these 103 containers, or responsible for their disposal once they get here. I don't understand why my tax dollars will get used to solve this problem. It may be my garbage - but I have already paid someone to take it away. The fact that some private, for-profit company bent (or in fact broke) the rules as to what should go where - should not be my problem. Some company got paid to pick up the garbage. Part of that cost was for them to dispose of it in an approved manner. The fact that it was cheaper to ship it just over 10,000 kilometres than it was to pay local dumping fees says something about how we process our waste but disposing of it was why we paid them to pick it up. This unknown company appears to have loaded up 103 containers, got them loaded onto a boat and then washed their hand of the problem. They had to have known what they were doing was wrong They had to have known that as soon as someone in the Philippines opened those containers to start processing the recyclable materials that they would close up the containers and report it. Clearly, they did not care.

What is surprising about this whole affair is that I cannot find a single published account of who this company was. This was not something that was done by one person. There were truck drivers, stevedores, accountants, and countless others who knowingly or unknowingly were involved in the operation - but no one is talking. The company had to have had a licence to do business, to export material, they had to have paid all of the federal taxes that all companies pay. They must have had an agreement with some company in the Philippines. And yet no one is holding the owners of that company to account. Why?

In a world where we document almost everything, in a world where people share all kinds of information on social media, in a world where various political parties take great delight in looking for dirt on the ruling party - why is no one talking about who this company is and how to reclaim the cost of retrieval from the owners of this company?

The company may have disappeared or gone bankrupt. However, if the courts can confiscate the private possessions obtained through the profits of crime - these owners did commit a crime and therefore they should lose everything until their bill is paid off. If we hold companies responsible for what they do in other countries - should we not hold this company responsible as well?