intermission - provincial elections

Has there ever been a more boring election than this one? Even folks like me who are political junkies seemed to be tired of it all. It is not that there are no issues - there are a 100 things that we could be debating. But no one is talking about what really matters, nor are they presenting any solutions that feel exciting and workable.

The Liberals are convinced that they need to do nothing new to maintain political power (and they may be right). The Conservatives are more interesting in finding fault with the Liberals and in maintaining their right wing power-base than looking at the reality of life in Ontario in 2011to find valid alternatives. The NDP seemed to be far more interested in moving to the centre to attract votes and are thereby leaving their roots behind. It is all so terribly boring and disheartening.

I predict that voter turnout will continue to be poor. The pundits will then say that it just goes to show that the public really don't care. But that is not true, It is just that we can't stomach the half truths, the out right lies and the at best unimaginative solutions to the complexities of our times.

Post modernist theory suggest that we, in this globalized world, have "evolved" past the point of wanting or needing the "grand narratives" of the past. That such large ideologies as Communism, Socialism,or even Fascism are no longer useful. The post modernist might be right - but surely we need someone to paint a vision of what life could be if we felt free to dream.

On a more positive note - Fleming College is have a poling station on campus. Perhaps some students will vote. That would be great!!!

On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 29

Victoria is certainly one of my favourite cities. Which is perhaps unfair to all of the other Canadian cities I have lived in, traveled though or bypassed. It is unfair because I have spent more time walking the streets of Victoria than any other city.  Not only did I live there for two years, but every year I have travelled out west, I have spent at least a week in the city. Perhaps if I spent that much time in Calgary I would grow to love it too. But I don’t think so.

Victoria is a beautiful place, the flower lined streets can be spectacular, the various neighbourhoods are all unique and interesting, the waterfront is fun to visit and perhaps most importantly of all, I have two very good friends there. Both of these folks helped get me through university. They will always be special to me. So we meet, have a meal (or two ) together, catch up on old times and then go our separate ways for another year. They are both very dear to me.

This year I had another reason to go to Victoria when I did. There was a International Buskers Festival. I love Buskers. One of the joys of spending time in Victoria is going down to the inner harbour to watch them. So many of them are so good, the plaster man or the bronze cowgirl who only move when someone puts money in their tray, the musicians, the acrobats and the jugglers - all bring an excitement to the waterfront that in my somewhat limited experience, is unique. I was excited to see some new acts. Especially ones that had been invited to come to Victoria because they were so good.

I was disappointed. I saw a number of acts and while most of them were OK. only a few were exceptional. So many of the acts were variations of juggling with fire,  balancing on round things or performing acrobatic feats that quite frankly didn't look that hard. Perhaps it is because Cirque du Soleil has expanded our vision of what the human body can do, or perhaps I am just too jaded. But is seemed to me that with two exceptions most of the acts only had one special skill. There was the Australian woman who squeezed herself in to a 16X16x16 cleat plastic cube - taking with her into the box a basketball, or the person who managed to spin 15 hula hoops at one time, or the group that twirled and juggled various things that had fire at their ends. And they all did well. They were professional and well rehearsed. They knew how to gather a group and how to keep them watching.

But almost all of them used the same type of jokes and almost all of them had people from the audience (usually men) come up and volunteer. These people almost inevitably were made the butt of the entertainers’ jokes. In a number of acts - the men were almost belittled. Of course it all got a good laugh, but as I had a couple of days to see the 9-10 acts, and some of them more than once, it all got a bit tiresome.  A number of the acts had clearly seen each other perform and they certainly stole/borrowed each other's jokes.

It is a hard way to make a living and I have no doubt that the buskers worked very hard to perfect their craft. Judging from the number of people that went up and dropped money in their hats, I think they probably did OK. But they were not as good as I had hoped.

The hostel was fun, I got to meet some interesting folks, my roommates were quiet, the room was not too hot and the downstairs area seemed to be less rowdy than usual. It was a good time. I have been there so often that it is like going back home. I am comfortable there.

On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 28

As much as I love my grand kids - I find that I am neither use to the noise nor the constant need to pay attention to what they are doing. Consequently after five or six days of visiting ( or sometimes far less) I am tired and I need to find a quieter place to live. So after being a good granddad and looking after the kid etc. I decided I needed to go to Victoria for a break.

Usually, for no particular reason, I have almost always travelled from Duncan to Victoria by bus. It is rather silly way to travel when I hitchhike 1,000s of miles across parts of Canada, but I buy a bus ticket to travel a an hour or so down the road. It was time for a change. So after getting a ride from my son to a reasonable location just outside of Duncan I went to Victoria through the generosity of others.

It wasn't any faster, but it was an interesting trip.  I was quite awhile at the first spot. It was a busy corner with lots of cars turning this way and that. For at least 20 minutes of my 40 minutes there any possibility of getting a ride was demolished by the riders from two motor bikes and a car pulling over and having a friendly chat with each other. They took up most of the shoulder that I needed for cars to pull over. Across the road from where I was standing there had been a minor fender bender and the RCMP were dealing with that. While it is not illegal to pick up hitchhikers along this spot of the highway it is against the law a bit further north. I suspect that the presence of a police car did little to make drivers even think about stopping. As the policeman finally finished his business with the accident, he drove up beside me and asked if I knew if the bikers had wanted to speak to him. I said that I didn't think so and he drove away.

Fairly shortly thereafter a man picked me up who was heading about halfway to Victoria. He was off to have supper with a friend. At some point he got a call from her and promised to pick up some ice creme in Mill Bay. Normally I suggest to my drivers that I would be glad to wait for them, or to go shopping with them but this guy didn't want to do that. He let me out at the highway and then ten minuted later, true his promise he picked me up again. We spent our shout time together talking about the politics of small towns and cities. When I mentioned Nanimo and what a confusing, poorly designed city it was, my driver had some very clear and not very positive opinions of the mayor and the city council.

He let me off at the turn off to Shawnigan Lake. I was not there any more than five minutes when the driver of a van coming from Shawnigan Lake honk there horn and waved me over. When I got in the van I was surprised to see that the driver was a female and that there was a young girl sitting in the back. Mom  had just dropped her son off at a camp and she and her daughter were heading back to the city. When I expressed my surprised at her stopping she admitted that she had not stopped to pick someone up for a number of years. I thing she was surprised that she had stopped too.

We had a lovely chat about the complexity of raising kids, and of how to be frustrated at their behaviour while not showing too much of our anger. It sounded as if her son was at that age where he was or had mastered to art of pushing his mother's buttons quite nicely. Her daughter occasionally interrupted the conversation to ask why her mother had picked up a hitchhiker and did that mean that I was going to their house. Clearly hitchhiking was not a common topic of conversation in their house.

They let me out at the corner of Pandora and Douglas, a few minutes away from the hostel. Perfect.

As they drove away it struck me as being somewhat special that neither I nor the mother had mentioned the fact that she was white and her daughter was black. It is nice to live in a time and place where such facts no longer needed explanation.

On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 27

I only spent one night at Sally's before heading back to Duncan to see my grand son. I was looking forward to having the chance to spend lots of time with him and his parents. I had been out west for over three weeks and yet I had not seen a lot of them. I got to be with the cute little guy almost as much as I wanted.

For a variety of reasons both of his parents were busy for three days out of the 6 days I was there. I got to look after Cohen (all by myself) for 2 of those days. Pretty special times.

Being a granddad is ....I can't think of any other words for it than "pretty neat". While I have loved my kids and have enjoyed every minute (almost) of being a dad and I have to say it keeps on getting better and better with both of them, being a granddad is something special. I felt it the second my son-in-law in North Bay called to tell me about my granddaughter being born, I felt it just as strongly when my first grandson was born and it was no different with my grandson in BC. Being a granddad is pretty neat!!!! Perhaps the highlight (at least in terms of outings) of my babysitting activities was going to the parade in Duncan. I was excited. The kid was less so and other than liking the kids riding their bikes in the parade, I don't think he was all that impressed.

One of the great things that happened this summer was that I got to spend time with my daughter-in-laws parents. I have known her father for a few years but we had never really talked. This year we had lots of time to get to know each other. Her father was very generous and graceful in letting me spend more than my fair share of time with the kid. He and I got a long just fine which feels pretty good. I will be always grateful that my daughter-in-law and her family have been so welcoming to me. It feels good, at least in some small way,  to be part of another family.

When I wasn't with the kid, or talking to his parents I either read or else work on my new walking stick. This is the 4th stick that my son has given me. All of them have come apart in the middle so that I can travel with them. It has always seemed to me that the odds of me getting a ride while carrying a five foot stick were somewhat remote. This stick came from a cherry sapling and we had been working on it for the past three years. It had been cut down the first spring, dried over the winter, shaped a bit last summer to get rid of some of the curves and finally now I was carving it. A lot of work but it keeps my hands busy and my mind out of trouble.

I don't know what I will ever do with them. I don't need them to walk with (yet). But the four of them, along with some canes that I have carved rest in a corner of my kitchen. I walk by them ten times a day. Sometimes I reach out and touch one, marveling at how the wood showed me the pattern I was to carve, delighting in the colour and the texture of the wood. Sometimes, in the dark or when I am carrying something bulky I knock them all down, where they clatter on the floor like some malformed bowling pins. But even then I smile because they remind of a trip out west, or of a journey or of a  place that I have been. Perhaps that is what the sticks are for. Not to hold up this sometimes aging body, but rather to lift my spirits up and to hold them up high as I remember the people and the places that I have been, and the blessing that I have received.

On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 26

The drive home was uneventful in part because everyone was tired and I suspect lost in their thoughts. We had thought about stopping at the same motel as we had stayed in going into the Gathering but they were full up. We couldn't decide what to do, stop and sleep or stop and eat and then drive some more. So we kept on driving. We stopped briefly at a fruit stand and loaded up on fruit and some veggies. Then we stopped for sandwiches and other stuff as we decided that if we were going to drive any distance we needed some real food. We had worked hard that day and were both physically and emotionally exhausted. All of this took time. All of this dithering (although no one called it that) caused some friction and some grumpiness.

A few hours later it was dark and I was driving. I got conflicting requests as to what to do. When I did turn off the highway to look for a motel, we couldn't find any, or rather the few that we did see were far too expensive. When I went in to ask the price of a room the clerks stared blankly at me as if I did not fit into their decor. I suspect that I looked less than presentable. The four other people in the van were quite good about giving suggestions as to what to ask for, but they were not willing to go in and ask for themselves. I think they may have felt in even worse shape than me.

They also didn't like my driving. It was a long van and the suspension was shot. Amongst other things this meant that it swayed a fair amount. This was very noticeable in the back especially when one went close to the speed limit (or a bit above) The road was clear and I wanted to get home. So the van swayed a lot. I should have gone slower.

Finally we reached the town of Tacoma, Washington. It had five or six motels in a row and we got a place that was sort of big enough for a $100. I along with one other person slept on the floor. As long as I got the shower first - I didn't care where I slept.

Tacoma is about 35 miles from Seattle, which meant that we were about 250-260 from Vancouver. I thought that with any luck at all we could be in Vancouver by just after noon. I was wrong. I was up early and went for breakfast at a Denny's around the corner. No one appeared from the room until after 10:30. The others apparently had to sort out some issues with each other which I think is a polite way of saying that they had an argument. I spent the time walking around the city trying to figure out why it existed.

Tacoma is near an air force base so there were lots of young men driving around in relatively nice cars. There were also a lot of small townhouses, some of which had for rent signs in them. I suspect that people who didn't want to live on base rented then when they were posted at the base.  There were also a number of Korean restaurants in the area. Three out of the four that I saw had gone out of business. I don't have a clue what that means. I of course only saw a small part of the city .Many of the houses that I saw were well maintained and the elementary school looked new, but there was a sense that the city was not thriving, that it was at the very least experiencing the consequences of the economic down turn.

When one of the workers came out and mentioned that perhaps we would stop for a picnic and would perhaps not get home that night I was a bit frustrated. Then Sally came out and said that she wanted to buy a chair in the room.  I was more than a bit frustrated. I think it would be fair to say that everyone, in fairly short order, understood my point of view. We needed to get going. If I had realized how long they were all going to take, I could have got on a bus and been home before they got out of the room.

The chair got bought and tied to the car, we got back on the highway and except for a brief stop to eat up the rest of the fruit before we got to the border we didn't stop. That is the way one should travel!

We made the last ferry to Salt Spring Island. That was cutting it all a bit close. If the rush hour traffic going past Seattle had been just a tiny bit worse, we would not have made it.

On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 25

When I am camping, I can always tell when I have had enough, when it is time to go home - I start to dream of sitting in a real chair! I carry around with me a canvas thing that allows my back to be supported while sitting on the ground but after 10 or so days my back is begging for a real chair. Right on schedule I started to have that dream.

By July 6th, people are starting to pack up and usually by the 7th most of the kitchens have started to come down. All of that stuff that was carried up the trail, now needs to be carried back down it. Every bit of string or rope, every log or pole used to hold up a tarp, every stone used to dig hold up a grate and every hole must be filled in. It is a huge amount of work and people stay around for another 2-3 weeks doing cleanup, re-seeding the trails and making sure that all of the shiiters are filled in. Sally says it is the best part of the Gathering. It is during cleanup that the Family really demonstrates it commitment to the land and to each other.


On the 6th I moved my stuff to the other side of the Gathering and put up my tent near Sally's tepee. There was a little bit of stuff ready to be carried to the van so I made 1 or 2 trips to the van which was parked a bit further away than I thought it would be. That evening I sat around another campfire and talked to some young folks about the Gathering and about their plans for the rest of the summer and into the fall. Talking to the young, frequently first time Gatherers, is one of the roles that I have fallen into. I think they think that I am one of the old timers, and it is rare that they get chance to talk to them so they are always delightfully polite and receptive my suggestions that they can carry the Rainbow Way home with them by saying thank you to bus drivers and store clerks, by holding doors open for people, and by picking up garbage that they see on the sidewalk. Simple things that remind them that we are all connected and that we all have the responsibility to share what we have and to be kind to others and the environment. Pretty simple stuff - but it seems to sound a chord within them.

Around the fire there were two or three young people who were, I think, Israeli,. They danced and sang some songs in Hebrew. They were rather shy but it was fun to watch them. I met one young man who had just finished a liberal arts degree at an American college. He wanted to be a writer but he didn't know how to start or what to write. I suggested that he write about the campfire, the songs and the conversations - just like I am doing. He said that that sounded almost too easy.... I said it  might be harder than he thought. I hope he does write, he had some interesting thoughts.

The next morning I was up early and as Sally's workers got their stuff together, I carried it to the car. It was a long day as I made at least 4 trips to the car carrying bags, drums (all three of them), guitar and mandolin. One of the workers had a pack that was almost as tall as her. I could not lift it on to my back. It was a blow to my male ego but I told her that she was on her own with that one. I think I am almost at that point in my life where I don't care if people think that I am weak. Thankfully the last load of stuff ( including the big pack) was carried on some one's wagon. I was more than a little bit thankful.  I was beat. 

It took awhile for everyone to say good-by but we were out of there long before I thought we would be.It was tough for some of the older members of the Family. Some of them are ill and they are all ageing. They might not all be back next year.

It is a strange feeling to leave a Gathering. For many, so much energy has been invested in getting there, setting up and participating in a life that most can only dream about. For a week or ten days, we get to belong to a family, a community that for the most part genuinely cares about all of its members. We get to work with, hang out with, become close to hundreds of people - all of whom have a common vision. Some articulate the dream better than others, some only know they need or want something different that what is available in that world that the Family calls Babylon. But we are all there because we have a commo

n yearning of what the world could be - should be. But many of us who are there also are tired and rather desperately need a shower and a soft bed. So we leave the Gathering, promising to come back home next year. It always sad to leave and I think most of us cry at some point.

On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 24

July 1st ( Canada Day) is not a day that I go out of my way to celebrate. I am immensely proud of being a Canadian, but like most of my fellow patriots - it is not something that I spend a lot of time talking about. At the Gathering one of the first questions asked is "where are you from?". Seldom is the answer 'Canada", so when I met a fellow Canadian it is sort of a big deal. On July 1st there was a fellow Canuk walking around with a big Maple Leaf Flag. Everyone made sure that he and I connected. We made a point of talking for awhile. But for most members of the Family at a National Gathering the big day is the fourth of July.

The morning is quiet as most people try to meditate for world peace for at least  awhile. It is an impressive site to see 1,000s of people sitting quietly, all with the same focus. Of course not everyone is quiet or in other ways support this focus. But I think the majority do. Some of the more committed were there at the edge of the meadow from the moment the sun rose. Sometime near noon everyone joined hands to form some sort of rough circle. At all Gatherings this process can take some time but in Washington this process took even longer than normal as we had to circle around a large swampy area that contained some rare plants that we were asked not to walk on. We couldn't cross over this area, but had to go around it.  The meadow area was huge.  I could barely see people on the other side. As we waited for the circled to be joined, we ohmed. What a marvelous sound. To hear 1,000s of people with all of the the harmonies that evolvedis really not describable. It is as beuatiful and as sacred as any pother church music.

We all omed for awhile, and then sometime around noon the children had their parade. After that it was a party.

Lemonade and watermelons were distributed. ( which was nice as it was hot and many had been fasting since sun-up). Folks sat around and chatted, danced and sang. It was really a magical time. It is extraordinary to think that this ritual of praying for world peace and then in some strange way celebrating the birth of a nation (especially amongst people who as a rule are not, to say the least, pro-government) has be going on for 40 years. There are paradoxes within the Family and this is one of them. They pray for world peace with an intense belief in the power of a unified voice, then celebrate the birth of a nation that has seldom been a peace.

It was a fun time. I got to meet lots of people, renew some old friendships (including meeting someone from Virginia who I had meet at the World Gathering in Quebec in 2004)  and hear some of the older folks tell their stories.It is the Family at its best, or at least at its most mythological. Folks are dressed up in their brightest clothing ( or in some cases nothing at all), clothing that they brought special just for this occasion. I wear a white homemade shirt with a necklace that was given to me by a special friend. I only wear it at such events. People are relaxed. People thinking about food or fire wood or about whether the pipes from the well are working. People are just enjoying the atmosphere, enjoying being with their Family.