Moving - Being Homeless

Homeless - sort of....... I, of course, am not really homeless. I have a nice place to live in Duncan BC. Within a week the floors there will be all done, the windows will have new moldings and other bits and pieces will be done to make the place quite functional. But I am not there and I won't be there for another few weeks. In the meantime almost all of my possessions are in some sort of trucker limbo as they sit in a depot waiting for other stuff to make a full truck load.

It was a strange feeling watching my stuff being taken away by strangers. They were nice strangers - the three of them worked hard and efficiently. Other than a few comments about how I had more stuff than I had estimated, they were gracious and kind. They were very careful about my furniture as they wrapped up everything. I kept on saying that a few more scratches on my two dining room chairs that we bought 35-40 years at an auction or a few more dings on lamps equally as old would not matter but they insisted that every bit of furniture needed to be protected.

I was worried about some of the boxes and totes being too heavy. I need not have. For the most part they carried two, three and even sometimes four boxes at a time. One of the guys in particular had an unusual technique for carrying the boxes. He stacked up a few boxes and then turned his back to the pile, reached behind, grabbed the lowest box and walked away. In other words he was carrying them on his back as opposed to carrying them on his front - which makes sense as I can carry far more weight in my backpack than I can in my arms in front of me. Certainly carrying boxes that way would save back pain.

There were three movers....which was unusual but when I mentioned this to the driver he said it was because he had had a quad bypass just nine weeks ago and needed to be careful. His doctor had not yet cleared him to go back to work. He made sure that everything was given a sticker with a number on it and that number was recorded on a sheet with a description of the item. He did carry some boxes but we all nagged at him when he tried to do too much. One guy stayed in the truck. Hs job was to stack the stuff. I won't know until the other end and see if anything got broken if he did a good job or not - but he clearly knew what he was doing. The third guy did most of the carrying ( although I did move some of the lighter stuff). He was not very big but he certainly had a lot of energy and was surprisingly strong.

The movers left, I swept the floors, made a run to the recycling centre, came back and loaded up my car, some neighbours said good bye, (they also gave me some shortbread for my trip),  and I was off.

After all my work in the past month or so getting ready - three hours of loading a truck and it was if I had never been there. One of my neighbours said a few weeks ago that the street won't be the same if I am not there. I think she was just being nice. But I was a renter for five or so years which is longer than most, I did do a lot of walking so even if we didn't talk people saw me up and about, and at least once of year some of them visited me when I had a sale.

But now I don't live there - I don't live anywhere.................

Welcome to Canada - Sorry it Took So Long

 For the last week or so, Canadian media have flooded the market with wonderful pictures and stories of refugees being greeted by dignitaries including the Prime Minister, in Ontario, by the Premier and a host of well meaning individuals who are doing their bit to help. There are lots of stories being circulated about how wonderful the Canadian public are in their almost overwhelming generosity. According the latest polls, it would appear that even those who just a few weeks ago were at best lukewarm about Syrian refugees coming to Canada have gotten if not on the bandwagon - at least they are no longer trying to stop it. Some politicians who before the election were questioning whether or not it was wise to allow refugees in, are now expressing concern that the process is taking too long or that it is not well organized.

How sad. If this out pouring of support and generosity had happened 18 -24 months ago when a few people including me started to write about the almost non-response of the Canadian government to the crisis, it would have been rather exciting. Canadians could have, with some justification, patted themselves on their collective backs. We could have been proud that we were doing something that only a few countries were doing. But we didn't do anything in spite of the daily news of the refugee crisis in the Middle East and in Europe. . And while it is convenient to blame the previous government for not doing more (or in fact doing anything), that is a cop-out. We didn't demand that they do anything. It was far too easy for us to sit back and muse about the dangers of terrorism in some other part of the world. It was easier to watch our soup operas, reality shows or hockey or baseball games than it was to do anything about help those who were suffering. We were happy to believe what the government said.

While I am delighted that the present government wants to be proactive in all kinds of international issues, I am some concern about how easy it is for us to be led. If a different party had been elected in November, and if they had had a different view of refugees, would we have gone along with it? If Mr. Harper had eked out another majority government (if one looks at the popular votes numbers he was not that far away from doing so), would we have continued to blithely accept his view that Muslims were potentially too dangerous to be allowed to come to Canada in any numbers? As we pat ourselves on the back for being such nice people (and isn't it grand that other countries now like us), it would be perhaps useful to remind ourselves that not that long ago we were patting ourselves because of how pragmatic we were.

Yesterday afternoon while doing some banking at the largest shopping mall in Peterborough, I noticed a  lady talking to two women wearing the

Refugees

 For the last week or so, Canadian media have flooded the market with wonderful pictures and stories of refugees being greeted by dignitaries including the Prime Minister, in Ontario, by the Premier and a host of well meaning individuals who are doing their bit to help. There are lots of stories being circulated about how wonderful the Canadian public are in their almost overwhelming generosity. According the latest polls, it would appear that even those who just a few weeks ago were at best lukewarm about Syrian refugees coming to Canada have gotten if not on the bandwagon - at least they are no longer trying to stop it. Some politicians who before the election were questioning whether or not it was wise to allow refugees in, are now expressing concern that the process is taking too long or that it is not well organized.

How sad. If this out pouring of support and generosity had happened 18 -24 months ago when a few people including me started to write about the almost non-response of the Canadian government to the crisis, it would have been rather exciting. Canadians could have, with some justification, patted themselves on their collective backs. We could have been proud that we were doing something that only a few countries were doing. But we didn't do anything in spite of the daily news of the refugee crisis in the Middle East and in Europe. . And while it is convenient to blame the previous government for not doing more (or in fact doing anything), that is a cop-out. We didn't demand that they do anything. It was far too easy for us to sit back and muse about the dangers of terrorism in some other part of the world. It was easier to watch our soup operas, reality shows or hockey or baseball games than it was to do anything about help those who were suffering. We were happy to believe what the government said.

While I am delighted that the present government wants to be proactive in all kinds of international issues, I am some concern about how easy it is for us to be led. If a different party had been elected in November, and if they had had a different view of refugees, would we have gone along with it? If Mr. Harper had eked out another majority government (if one looks at the popular votes numbers he was not that far away from doing so), would we have continued to blithely accept his view that Muslims were potentially too dangerous to be allowed to come to Canada in any numbers? As we pat ourselves on the back for being such nice people (and isn't it grand that other countries now like us), it would be perhaps useful to remind ourselves that not that long ago we were patting ourselves because of how pragmatic we were.

Yesterday afternoon while doing some banking at the largest shopping mall in Peterborough, I noticed a lady talking to two women wearing a hijab and a man. They had clearly been shopping as both of the women were carrying shopping bags. The woman doing the talking stopped for a minute to allow the man to translate what she had said to the other women. While they could have been from anywhere, and one should not assume that because they did not speak English and were wearing a hijab that they were refugees - I did wonder. I also wondered if I should say something to them - like "welcome".

I didn't do that -in part because what I really wanted to say was "I am sorry. I am sorry it took us so long to act like human beings who share the planet with you. I am sorry that it took so long to get off our collective rear ends to invite you to share what we have."

Inviting 25,000 refugees is a good start. But the larger issue needs to be not forgotten. It is well past time that Canadians, outside of the House of Commons, start to impose our values upon politicians - not the other way around.

 

Bah -Humbug

I don't know why, but every year I seem to need to be reminded as to how much I dislike Christmas. I dislike the commercialization of what was in Victorian times, a relatively small event, to now something that last for what feels like months. I dislike the pressure to buy, the need to spend money to prove how much one cares about another, the raised expectations of children (and even adults who should know better) and above all else that assumption that everything will work out for everyone and that we will all be together and happy on the 25th of December. But most of all I dislike the mindless pap that are the Christmas movies that fill up the time slots of all of the television networks for the month of December.

The endless variations of Dickens's Christmas Story are some sort of perverse tribute to both the capacity of producers and writers to re-work a story that did not need re-working and the empty headedness of those who watch all of the variations. It boggles the mind that anyone believes that one can make money telling the same old story over and over again - except of course that they do. There as well appears to be an ever expanding repertoire of made for television movies that create alternative realities where families come together in joyful harmony; where single people (sometimes with children) find someone of the opposite sex (I don't remember ever seeing a movie about a same sex couple finding love at Christmas?) to not only give and get presents from on Christmas morning but presumably for the rest of their  lives.

I suspect that the writers, directors and producers who "create" these movies and the people who negotiate their release to the networks have little or no understanding of what life is like for so many people. For those who live alone and have long since stopped believing that a handsome or beautiful stranger will magically fall in love with them on Christmas Eve; for those who have no choice but do without the "magic of giving" because they just don't have the money; for all of those for whom Christmas is not a time for celebration but a time to morn or to feel guilt or to be reminded how empty their lives are - those movies are just one more crushing reminder of what could have been and if one believes the movies - what should have been.

I understand that the world needs rituals and celebrations. I am sure it is true that for many people Christmas morning is a magical time; that perhaps for even a majority of people there are parts of the month long Christmas extravaganza that are looked forward to with great anticipation.  For those people, if watching these movies are part of that process of celebration - that is wonderful. But the rest of us should have a choice. It is not that I need to find any more reasons to be depressed or that I want to watch movies that always reflect the sadness in life but how come there are not movies made about the week after Christmas where people need to go back to their jobs as clerks in big box stores dealing with dissatisfied customers,  or where people sink into deep despair as they look at their credit card bill or where the superficial happiness that may have been there for a brief time on Christmas morning has evaporated into the thin air of a cold January morning.

I understand why no one wants to make such movies or to air them. But do we have to keep on showing movies that promise what for so many people are visions of dreams long lost in the tragedy of their lives.  

Moving #5 - Feeling Sad

 I went up to Sudbury this past week for my grandson's birthday, to watch him at a basketball practice and then two days later at a game as well as a whole day of watching my granddaughter play in a volleyball tournament. While most of my trips are not as busy as that, I have gladly made the five hour drive at least four or five times a year for the past seven or so years. One of the joys of the trip (quite frankly there are relatively few on the drive up and back) is looking at the various rock cuts that have been carved out of the pre-Cambrian Shield to create the highway. There are a few sections where the thin white or pink granite lines buried in the darker rock are almost vertical suggesting massive geological upheavals in the past. As I was driving by the rock cuts on Friday, I reminded myself that the next time I drove south and it was a sunny day, I should stop and take a picture of these remarkable reminders of the earth's long distant and turbulent history. Then I remembered that I in all likelihood will never drive that highway again. I will go up one more time on my way west, but never again drive south.

While, especially because the state of my apartment, I am constantly reminded that I am moving - I sometimes forget that moving means that I won't be coming back here again. That every time I drive down a street, it might be the last time that I do so. Every time I think about that, I grieve a little bit. Every time I realize that there are so many people or places that I will never see again, I want to cry. I have lived almost my entire adult life in the counties of Haliburton, Victoria or Peterborough. There are literally hundreds of highways, streets and back roads that I have travelled on. There are almost secret waterfalls, meadows in the middle of nowhere and dark cold lakes and rivers that I can see so clearly in my mind but that I will never see again in reality. I think of getting a good car and going for a four or five day drive to re-visit those places one more time, But I suspect some of those places such as the Eddy on Coleman Lake Road or the Fur Farm where my son and I spent so many hours fishing are probably over built and almost disappeared. Perhaps it is better that I remember it the way I want to, rather than the way it is now. But I will miss those spots and a hundred others. I will never drive by or at least think about driving by all of the homes that I built, all of the places where I worked or any of the places where I hung out and made friends while arguing about politics, values or the way the world could be.

A week ago I needed to contact someone in a local organization. I had tried but it felt as if my e-mail had probably gotten lost in the over-whelming number of emails that flood most of our mail servers. So I contacted a friend who works part time for that organization and asked who I should contact. Within a few hours I had a response to my question. When I emailed my friend to thank her for her help I said "...... one of the harder things about thinking about moving is the realization that I am moving to a place where I sort of know some people, but I am going to have to make new relationships with people who know how things work." That quite frankly scares the living crap out of me. I am not a particularly social person. Quite often the social niceties that are required to make those connections are beyond me.

I am moving to a place that while I know the geography a little bit and I know a few people - I am starting over. I have no history in the place, I (outside of my son and his family) only know a few people and I perhaps will never understand how the social system works. I am going from someone who knows a lot of people, including some who make the system work, and as someone who has in a few small sectors created part of that system to someone who will always be someone who just moved in later in life.

I am not too sure if I am looking forward to

Grandsons and Giving

As we go through life, it is always difficult to know whether or not we have made a difference in how the people close to us think or react to the chaos that is our world. Certainly as parents or grandparents I suspect that most of us are never really sure as to the impact that we have on our children or grandchildren. There is, of course, the long standing "nature or  nurture" argument that at its core is really about whether or not parents are useful. As a someone trained to think as a sociologist, I am committed to the  belief that we are shaped by our experiences, including those our parents give us. But at times it is difficult to ignore the other reality that sometimes kids act and think in profoundly different ways than do their parents.

When one reads of the newly hatched terrorists who appear to have come from reasonably stable homes; who were raised by families and in communities where radicalism was neither preached nor tolerate and who almost overnight (relatively speaking) become people who believe that the only solution is to kill as many people as they can while killing themselves, one has to wonder what role families or communities have in shaping anyone. It can be almost disheartening. It would seem to me that while the world in the short term needs to deal with methods of apprehension, incarceration and prevention of terrorism, in the long term we need to apply the best brains available in considering what we as a world society are dong that shapes young people into terrorists.

Then there are the goods days. Those days when it is clear that what you have done has had a least a little bit of an impact upon a child or grandchild. Because of the amount of time that I spend in my grandchildren's homes, I suspect I am more fortunate than most in being able to observe this at least minimal impact. Both of my children, in their unique ways, demonstrate an honesty about what is important and a passionate commitment to their children that at least in part is related to their upbringing.  It is a joy to watch. However this past week, my eldest grandson passed any bar that I could have ever imagined.

I, for the past few years, have not bought my two older grandchildren Christmas presents. They have so much stuff - it has always been difficult to imagine what I could buy that they would both need and treasure. Instead I have donated money in their name to various organizations. We initially chose through World Vision what kind of animal their money would buy for a family in the developing world. For the past two years they have donated money directly to an individual through an organization called Kiva. They have always participated in this process with grace and thoughtful consideration as to what they wanted to donate money to. Not once did I have the smallest hint that they would have preferred to get something tangible for themselves. But as they  never talked about it very much outside of Christmas, I had no sense of whether or not the decision not to buy Christmas presents had an impact on their lives. At least not until this past week.

My grandson, whose birthday is approaching soon,  sent me an e-mail asking if I would consider donating his birthday money to the school's food bank drive. One could argue that as I have generally given the grandchildren a gift card from Chapters so that they can chose their own books and he does not like reading, that it was not a big deal. But it is. One ten year old kid giving his birthday money to help others who are struggling is not going to change the world - unless other kids do it too, Perhaps his act will be a model for a couple of other kids in his school, and then a few more students will learn from those and then who knows how far it could go.

My grandson goes to a great school that actively encourages raising money for various worthwhile charities, he has a mom that works full time at being an active member of both of her children's schools and he lives in a neighbourhood where people talk to their neighbours. All of these experiences have shaped who my grandson is becoming. I cannot take much if any of the credit for his generosity or of his awareness that others both around the world and in his home town need his help. But on those darks days where I despair of where the world may be headed - it is good to know that there are a whole bunch of young folks out there who have learnt something positive from the adults around them.

It is good to know that I might have been part of that learning experience.