Reso-revolutions

This past year has been one of the most challenging years I can recall. On the local front, the provincial scale, and of course, on the stage of world events. 

The last time the world was experiencing this many wars going on -- whether actively ongoing or in their early stages -- well, I can't recall.

As for environmental issues (even at the provincial level) -- what with Site C now being open, as well as those new transmission lines being built to supply fracking activities -- well, it's hard not be discouraged. Nation-wide, things are sounding even worse, with the tanker ban along BC's west coast being challenged, despite the hazards of shipping oil through Hecate Strait. 

Nearer to home, even our local arts council has taken a new direction, no longer offering the range of cultural events and activities it once did. 

Discouraging? To be sure. But hey, it's a new year, so all of us need to put on our shiniest set of armour and head out into the world to help bring about some of those badly-needed changes we and our planet so badly need. 

Onward!

Springtime in Canada

...or at least here on the Lower Mainland of the West Coast. 

While I admit that the tulips are store-bought (though raised on Vancouver Island), the forsythia brancches are ones I brought in from outside. 

Today marks the Vernal Equinox, when things are in a kind of balance, as the sun is above the equator, making the hours of daylight and darkness equal--the day we refer to as the first official day of spring. 

After this winter, spring is more than welcome. Snow. Cold. Disruptive news. Balance sounds like something that's very badly needed. 

Wasteful

At least that's how this scene looked to me. 

On the weekend, there was a house there. One, I learned, that had been built in 1967. And here it was, the end of the line for it. 

Why, I wonder, do other towns and cities value their older homes? Is it because they have a greater respect for history, or do they consider the materials and craftsmanship that went into their making?

When this one was coming down, it didn't crumple easily, but withstood repeated blows from the digger. I couldn't help thinking, as I saw it sway from those repeated thumps, that it would have withstood a substantial earthquake. But then, looking at the materials it had been built with, its sturdiness was no surprise. 

It had been built with two-by-fours from wood that's far more substantial than the lumber that's for sale today. Why weren't those salvaged? Why wasn't that house taken apart, bit by precious bit? Windows? Doors? Light fixtures? All of these are items that cost plenty. And really, why should all of those be going to the already overfull landfill?

A man was strutting around while all of this was going on, pretty much nodding his head in approval. I suppose he'll be the new neighbour moving in to the undoubtedly mega-house that will be built there. I'd gone down to another neighbour's place, returning a piece of mail that had been mis-delivered to our house and tried to catch his eye to say hello each time I passed him. But no, his eyes may have well have been made of glass, so glazed over were they, so unwilling to engage. 

Today, to give the workers credit, the lot is tidy. There's even a fair amount of lawn-like grass, as if the site is getting ready to be turned into a neighbourhood park. But no, I am sure that isn't the case. 

The end of the End of the Long Dash...

It was November 5th, 1939 that the CBC first broadcast the National Research Council's official time signal. For those in the Eastern Time Zone, that occurred at 1:00 pm each day. For those of us here in BC in the Pacific Time Zone, the beep came at 10:00 am. And that beep after the long dash was a sound I heard most mornings, as that was when I liked to be sure the radio was on so I could hear the day's news. 

Sadly, we're no longer getting this notification. Plenty of reasons were given, though none of them seemed all that important to me. This was just another of those small observances we've become so glib about tossing aside. 

By next year, we may also NOT be going back to standard time, but may instead be making daylight saving time the rule for the whole year, not just the summer months. 

The most ironic aspect of ending the tradition of the time signal is that, if I'm working dates out correctly, it ended on Thanksgiving. Talk about a kick in the head. 

All I can offer is my own long dash --------- 

                        followed, of course, by that clear-toned Beeeeep which for now, I guess, you'll have to play in your imagination. 

Looking back, looking ahead

Already the second day of the new year and pokey me -- I'm still looking back. 

It was a year that didn't feel all that productive, especially on a personal level. No new book, though a number of entries in several anthologies. Not much in the way of travel or special events. Yes, there are a few exceptions, but they feel diminished through the lens of looking back. 

But as you can see if you play the video above, the best part about looking back is that it means you're going forward. 

That's the plan -- on many levels -- for the coming year. Goals? You can be sure of that. Whether they'll be accomplished remains to be seen, when at year's end, I find myself looking back again. 

P.S. The golden sculpture on the left (at the Marine Drive station on the Canada Line) is a piece of public art by Douglas Coupland, a representation of the famous 'Hollow Tree' at Stanley Park.

C-change, I suspect

The more commonly used term is 'sea change' which means a big shift, and not one just pertaining to the ocean. 

The big shift I am anticipating (and somewhat bracing for) might in truth be more of a C-change, meaning a change in Canada as a result of today's election. 

Oddly, it happens that others refer to such thing as 'C-change' which turns out to be something called an eggcorn -- something that sounds like the word one actually means. 

At least I was able to prepare myself for whatever might be ahead by a week of being offline, camping in the comfort of our funny old RV at Manning Park. We weren't at the resort, but at the same site we'd stayed in last year on the bank of the Similkameen River, under the shade of a very tall cottonwood and a mix of conifers. 

So, I guess I have to say, whatever the votes might bring, bring it on. All we can do is look for brighter days ahead. 

Dog days of June

In truth, it seems a bit unfair to dogs to designate some of the most miserable days of the year as 'dog' days. At least, looking into the history of the name, it turns out to relate to that time later in summer when Sirius, the dog star, passes overhead. And yes, this period of time generally comes must later, calendar-wise, toward the end of July and into August. (Oh, if you click on this last link, you may find yourself as enchanted as I was when you see the fanciful illustration.)

The temperatures we've been experiencing here in BC's Lower Mainland are unprecedented -- even for later in the season. Our little thermometer, which is never in direct sunlight, but on the inside of a post in our gazebo, has never before gone over 40 Celsius, and has certainly never before gone over 100 Fahrenheit. But that's exactly what it did, both yesterday and the day before. 

As might be expected, the news is full of items about climate change. The Vancouver Sun's front page headline story chronicled just that. But really, unless you've been living under some moss-covered rock, this is hardly surprising. 

I'm just hoping that the disquiet, discomfort -- and now, as we've learned, even deaths -- resulting from this latest distress call from the Earth, will help bring our politicians to action beyond their mumblings about reading reports and considering what to do. How convenient though for them (both provincial and federal) to have taken off for the summer recess and no doubt, to their lakeside cottages where soft breezes blow any such thoughts of responsibility and duty away to some other day. 

The turning of the tide

Today is the last day of spring, officially, as tomorrow evening (8:32 pm PDT) will be solstice. Really, it's hardly felt like spring of late, more like a long, extended winter. Altogether too many bad things have been happening, including covid deaths. The latest, and we certainly hope the last of these, was the husband of my sister-in-law Sophie, who left us at the end of January. Soulmates perhaps with husband joining his wife. It was a bit as though one might have called the other. 

But yesterday, walking on the beach when the tide was almost exactly at its lowest, along with a glimpse later on of the waxing moon, gave me the feeling that the tide is turning. 

And maybe today, officially recognized as Juneteenth, will really be the start of shifted thinking. 

Statues of colonizing figures are coming down, an action that stirs mixed feelings in many. 

Indigenous people are finally being given the chance to take charge of the forests in B.C. Whether this action will take place in time to make a substantial difference, well, we'll have to see. 

Still, for a change, partly because I and most of my family have now received two doses of vaccine, I am finally starting to feel a bit more hopeful. 

Shifting gears

Events occurring over January 20th and 21st make for an interesting glimpse of meanings for the term 20/21. 

Wednesday gave us an inauguration ceremony that was dignified and of and for the people. Respect. Diversity. Calm. Such guiding words. 

Dana Bash, one of CNN's commentators said yesterday that it was clear that now there were suddenly "adults in the White House" for a change. 

Even the tulips in the window box seem to be bathed in a rosy glow. 

Truly, a time for going forward. Onward. 

Entering a new phase

This vine-entwined portal opens onto a path that doesn't seem all that clear. But then, that's pretty much the way the world is feeling to me these days. 

The virus continues to rage, and so do the terrible-sounding plans for rebellious events in the US. Frightening, and hard to say which seems worse. 

Tonight's new moon is the first of this still mostly-new year, though its skinny fingernail of light will likely not be visible here. We're still experiencing more rain than usual, which makes for obscured skies. Still, that moon symbolizes another new beginning. 

And obscured, hard-to-know-what-comes-next days are how things feel, especially in light of the many changes occurring on the political scene.

Really, all I figure I can really ask from our elected officials is honesty. 

So, in that light, pale though the light of a new moon might be, I say to our premier, Mr. Horgan, please face up to the massive mistake that is Site C. Stop it now, so we can move towards actions to remediate the disaster the site has become -- quick, before it gets any worse. 

Comin' back

This week brought the news that we may well be starting the long road back to some kind of normalcy, with the first people receiving injections of vaccine against the virus that's ravaged the human race. It feels like the first sign that the world we used to know might be comin' back. 

Tomorrow (or, here on the West Coast of Canada, 2am tonight) brings another kind of coming back --- the one we are blessed with every year, the Solstice, when the days again start to grow longer and hope grows along with the daylight. 

This year also brings a conjunction between Jupiter and Saturn that hasn't occurred for hundreds of years, maybe another sign that life on Earth is soon to improve. Because those 'conjoined' stars will be so bright, they've been dubbed this year's 'Christmas Star'. 

Those iris sprouting in between the leaves outside my local library looked like a harbinger of spring not impossibly far off. 

Good things on the horizon, getting nearer all the time. 

Yesterday was for learning

Yesterday meant that a decade had passed since Vancouver's Olympic Games officially opened. There are plenty of stories online about the many ways this anniversary is being observed, as well as recaps of all that went on, right down to the glitches that were part of the torch-lighting ceremony.

But more important to me than attending the relighting ceremony might have been was my good fortune over being invited to attend a luncheon where the Calgary's mayor, Naheed Nenshi was the featured speaker. After hearing him, I'm not at all surprised that he was once named the Best Mayor in the World.

Because he was addressing members and guests of the Surrey Board of Trade, much of his talk concerned commerce and trade -- and even included his city's commitment to investments in art and culture. When he came into office, Calgary doubled its funding of the Arts, and since then, despite economic woes in Alberta, the City has managed to protect such funds.

But the real focus of his talk was how we need to start listening to each other. He said that in essence, we all want the same things: we want to save the planet in a state that will remain habitable for future generations and we also want prosperity for all. A big ticket to fill, to be sure.

One thought that I'm taking away from his speech is an anecdote he shared early on. He pointed to his necktie and told us that for nearly ten years he's been wearing purple every day. He reminded us that it's a secondary colour, made up of two primary ones, red and blue, which just happen to be the colours representing the two major political parties, long held as two viewpoints that stand in opposition to each other.

This idea of blending the two points of view, and of being able to hear both sides is the message that stays with me today. I'm hoping I might from now on be able to hear both sides better, and want to start practising something he said (and I'm quoting Mayor Nenshi): "I like to listen with both ears." Yes.

First day of winter

Last night was the evening the Earth reached that point in the sky where the season officially changed. Winter Solstice, the day the light starts coming back. Even though it's only about four minutes more every day, I'm sure that early in the new year we'll be noticing the change. 

To observe the change of season, and to honour our brother Tom, we hosted a gathering of close friends. Everyone brought delicious treats, along with plenty of great stories for sharing. A highlight was the sharing of music -- so many talented friends in our midst. Chris Birkett's song, "Turning Round the Sun" may have been the most appropriate for the occasion.

But beyond seeing the change of season, our view out the window has also changed. The big broken tree out back came down, thanks to the skill of our neighbour, Paul.

Change everywhere around us, and doing our best to go along with it all.

As my motto through life seems to be, Onward.

Good intentions, but...

...not quite.

Riding the SkyTrain not long ago, owing to the usual rush hour crush, it was hard to ignore the drink in front of my nose.

I was close enough to be able to observe that the straw wasn't the dreaded plastic, but paper. Hurrah, I thought, but.

What about the cup and dome lid?

Big changes start in small ways, so I can't complain to see at least something changing. And I'm inspired when I encounter projects like the one I found at Lunenburg in Nova Scotia. Their goal is to get the rest of the Maritime provinces on-board, but they're not afraid to start on their own.

The City of Victoria was told this week that they don't have the jurisdiction to be able to ban plastic bags (for now, at least). Vancouver's main actions so far have been ongoing studies, but at least these show that we're improving.

The transition away from plastics is going to continue to be tricky, that's for sure. But all we can do is keep trying, even when it's just eensy baby steps.

A new leaf?

Yikes, we're already into the double digits of January in what I'm still thinking of as a new year. And what a new year it is turning out to be!

I'm still trying to get used to the sound of it: 2018 -- a number I am sure I once believed would mean flying cars. Too bad about those, especially when you consider the traffic congestion we contend with.

But not everything is as bad (or getting worse) as traffic congestion.

Anyone who doubts that some things aren't getting better didn't see Sunday night's Golden Globe Awards, where so many people spoke out on behalf of change. And oh my, there was Oprah, putting a president to shame with her eloquence.

A new leaf? Let's hope so. It's time.

Two out of three -- not good enough

Thankfully, there were a few rays of good news this week. In the US, Democrats scored a victory -- both political and moral -- when voters in Alabama elected Doug Jones to represent them in the Senate, the first time in more than 20 years for such an occurrence. This marked a huge shift in thinking. Or, perhaps it meant simply the beginning of thinking: not choosing the 'same old, same old' candidate from the Old Boys' Network. Mind you, voters there had plenty of reasons to not vote for the incumbent, but that's another story or two.

Locally, voters in the riding where I live also made history by coming out to support the federal Liberal candidate. In doing so, they gave us our first Liberal Member of Parliament in 64 years. We've had nothing but conservatives of one stripe or other heading to Ottawa on our behalf for way too long. And even though I am not always fond of the federal Liberals, I'll admit that I was part of this sea change. For the only the second time in all my years of voting, someone I cast a ballot for has won a seat. I can only hope that with proportional representation becoming a stronger possibility -- at least at the provincial level -- my vote will count more often.

So, two good news stories, but counterbalanced by one very bad one: On Monday, the provincial government came down with its decision on the fate of the Peace River Valley -- in essence, damning it by going ahead with plans to dam it. This Site C decision is bound to have many negative repercussions for the provincial NDP, the party currently in control (by a hair) here. As for the other negative outcomes -- disregard for farmland, First Nations claims and heritage, and of course the overall environmental losses (forests, fish, birds and a slew of wildlife), those will echo far into the future. Although our premier's statement was thoughtful, it's hard for me to not be suspicious of political ties that may have weighed on him. But, that's only speculation, and not something that's going to change anything -- especially not for residents of BC, in particular, those who live in this region of the Peace, whose homes and land will be flooded.

So, two out of three reasons to celebrate; one to cry over.

It's interesting that the two positive outcomes were brought about through the voice of the people, while the Site C decision was made by a group of politicians sitting around a table. Had there been a referendum, with our province's citizens voting to decide, might the result been different?

All I can hope is that come Solstice, we'll start seeing more change for the better. 

At last, onward!

It's taken nearly two months, but at last there's clearly a new road ahead. Since our provincial election way back on May 9th, those of us who live in British Columbia have been on an uncertain path. Our premier has done quite the job of dragging her heels, hanging on to power. It's hard not to think this was primarily to do what she could to see to it that the Site C dam project gets to what she has called "the point of return".

Thankfully, events in the Legislature late yesterday laid the way for us to finally go forward. The acting (I'll say!) government had presented an almost absurdly 'copycat' set of proposals that nobody seemed ready to fall for -- after all, we've had 16 years of their tight-fisted (unless you're one of their rich friends) actions. A bit like the boy who cried wolf story -- who would believe! Instead, the BC Liberals fell to a non-confidence vote, opening the door that will allow the NDP-Green agreement to start leading us forward.

As soon as John Horgan is sworn in -- we can only trust that this will happen soon -- we may at last finally see some action in government. No one promises that the road ahead will be smooth, but at least it will be one that offers a better direction.

Seeking wisdom

Kurt Vonnegut was born on November 11th, 1922.

One of my long-held traditions was to write a letter to him on that day.

He never replied to any of those letters (heck, I don't even know whether any of them reached him), but I kept up the tradition for many years. Much, I suppose, the way I keep this little blog. Sending words out into the universe without knowing whether they might ever connect with anyone.

In light of all that's occurred this week, I'm writing to him again. I just wish that this time, he'd be able to respond, as I'm sure we could use some of his wise advice.

Although, who knows, he might just go along with the down-home homely advice offered in the sign.

And yes, I wrote some of those letters long enough ago that I used a typewriter, thus the likely now-jarring font:

Dear Mr Vonnegut, 

If you were alive, you'd be turning 94. A somewhat creaky age, I suspect. Not an impossible age, but one where I expect that you'd be slowing down. Nonetheless an age when your sense of wisdom would likely be keener than ever. 

Quite a few of us have had our world upended this week. We were expecting one thing to happen, but instead the opposite occurred. 

The reactions I've heard about have included crying (in all its various manifestations, from tears streaming in shocked silence to tears accompanied by sobbing and even shrieking), vomiting, or going to bed and pulling up the covers. 

Apparently so many Americans wanted to know how to emigrate to Canada that our government's immigration website crashed.  

Then yesterday, the president-elect met with the current president of the US, Barack Obama, a fellow I'm sure you've heard about even as far as Tralfamadore or wherever it is that you might now be. 

If the news cameras can be trusted anymore, the new guy came away from that meeting looking a lot like the kid who's been taken to the firehall (I know how you loved firehalls and fire engines) after being caught playing with matches. Sobered right up. Or, to put it in Bondian terms, "shaken, not stirred." *

The only positive spin I can manage on this is that it's just part of the cycle of big change that's been coming for such a long time. Again, I look to thoughts Tralfamadorian as I do my best to come to an acceptance of the reality of now. 

One of your writer-colleagues, Toni Morrison, offered some good advice: "This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. This is how civilizations heal."

To that, I imagine you would wholeheartedly agree. After all, doesn't that pretty much sum up how you spent your life here on this little blue planet?

It's Remembrance Day here in Canada, Veterans Day in the US, so I turned on the radio a few minutes ago -- just in time for the moment of silence. Thankfully, that's not a sound one gets very often on the CBC. 

Several speakers then offered remembrance and, as is always the case, in both official languages, French and English. But this year, they added something I didn't remember hearing before, another speaker offered these in a First Nation tongue. Yes. A time for healing. Hallelujah. 

Which brings to mind one other bit of news. A very cool fellow should have arrived in your zone last night. His name is Leonard. I expect the two of you should find plenty to talk about. 

Best cheers, as always,

hg

* Explanation of this phrase brings to mind another of your works, Cat's Cradle, with its exploration of the properties of ice, a fascination held in what we call 'real life' by your brother, Bernard. 

And the livin' is easy...

...At least that's what the song says about summertime. Somehow this time of year isn't always "easy" as one might think, as it's often pretty darn busy. Much of that 'busy-ness' is at least outdoors -- and not 'on the computer'. Although this isn't really a heartbreak for me, it does mean I've been lazy about stepping out onto the big limb.

The photo above is an alcove on our deck -- a special spot where I like to read or even take a summertime nap. I call it The Boathouse. No particular reason, though I suppose the worn boards contribute to the feeling of someone's boathouse on a lake. So, even though Goolwa isn't on a lake (it's on the sea at the mouth of a river), the boat print serves well as part of the outdoor art.

But the thing is, this summer has been busy enough that I've barely spent any time in my beloved reading/relaxing spot. I'm thinking that maybe this will change in the next few days, especially where we've just had a celestial event that's supposed to signify big changes all around. (Am I the only one who remembers the song that celebrated the "dawning of the Age of Aquarius"?)

In the spirit of seeking change, but at the same time being realistic, I'm aiming for Monday as a day for relaxing and reading in my boathouse. I picked up two delicious-looking novels at the library, so I'm set, especially if I can finish all my projects in the kitchen!

Partly because all the fruits have been ahead of schedule, I've spent an awful lot of time freezing fruits for winter, making jam and even baking. To finish off this year's bounty of plums, I'm going to have get out the canner, as there's basically no more room in the freezer.

Yet even as I contemplate how to deal with the flavourful blessings, I've had to go out and pick again this afternoon. Not a bad little batch for ten minutes in the sun. They should make a very nice dessert.

So even if the livin' ain't always completely 'easy' I'm not about to complain.

We did it!

Earlier today, I had the privilege of breaking out of my usual pattern by watching daytime TV. The reason? Our new prime minister, Justin Trudeau, was being sworn in. This felt like history-in-the-making.

Already, from seeing the members of his cabinet and from hearing his responses to questions from the press, it appears that we really are going to get our country (and all it's always stood for) back. No more one-man rule.

Hurrah and onward!