Sturdy

Resilience.

Understanding.

Justice.

Acceptance.

These are big words. Unfortunately, they're words I'm not hearing often enough. And I'll admit, I dread watching what might transpire in tonight's news.

As always, I find myself turning to poetry. Here's a piece I found on one of my favourite websites. It's called "Any Light" and was written in response to events of the past week. It's posted on Rattle Magazine's website, and they've set it up so you can listen to the poem while you read it.

As for today's odd photo, it's a dandelion that found a way to grow through a fence -- an example of the sort of sturdy resilience we all seem to need these hard days. And it's not just me feeling this way. The theme for our local arts council's current show is also Resilience. Have a look.

A day to celebrate!

The photo is from Saturday -- an event on Burnaby Mountain, calling attention to some of the many reasons why the new pipeline should not be built.

And today comes the stunning news that the Federal government's plan to build that pipeline has hit a wonderful snag.

Not too surprisingly, Kinder Morgan's shareholders just voted (99% in favour) to approve the sale of this seemingly doomed pipeline to us, the Canadian taxpayers.

Looks like Justin made a humdinger of an error, committing $4.5 billion to this outdated project.

Maybe with this much money flying off to a company in Texas, Mr Trudeau might have to think about resigning. Clearly, too many of us made a mistake in believing the promises he made.

Remembrances and coincidences

It's been one week since we attended a remarkable remembrance event for a dear friend. It's a matter I mostly want to keep private.

But another remembrance that came to my attention this week is one that I think deserves a more public commemoration.

It was an item that caught my eye mostly by accident. Though I often scan the obituary pages (usually on my way to the day's Sudoku), I noticed a name I hadn't seen nor heard mention of in years: Mary Steinhauser. The announcement was a remembrance item, commemorating her death forty years ago on June 11, 1975, when she was caught in crossfire (or as we may now identify it, by the hideous oxymoron, 'friendly fire') during a hostage-taking incident at the British Columbia Penitentiary in New Westminster.

The institution's been closed since 1980, mostly excavated and re-invented as a subdivision, though remnants of the old BC Pen linger.

The penitentiary was well known for its practice of holding inmates in its SCU (Special Corrections Unit), where prisoners were confined alone for over 23 hours a day, with only the rarest access to the outdoors. Because the SCU was on the top floor of one of the buildings, it became known as the Penthouse. Prison humour, always the darkest, is often enduring in its irony.

Steinhauser was a social worker -- or, to be more accurate, a classifications officer -- who worked at the prison. She was known as an advocate against the practice of solitary confinement and was viewed by some as being 'on side' with the men, a situation that may well have contributed to her death.

Although the full report stemming from the official inquiry into the incident does not cite the names of any of the hostages (it names only prisoners and those who were called in as negotiators), we know that the single resulting death was that of Steinhauser.

I'll admit to having had greater than average interest in the story, both because I admired Steinhauser (and Claire Culhane, a peace activist and another prisoners' advocate of the era) and because I knew someone who was a brother to one of the hostage-takers. All I can find to substantiate my memories of the event is the Wikipedia article on Steinhauser. It portrays her heroically, as being the only hostage who chose to stay in the room with the prisoners who'd taken charge, standing for what she believed to the end.

But now here's where the coincidences come into play. Reading this morning's paper, I found a hopeful article about rehabilitation activities in U.S. prisons. Instead of the continuously more punitive measures which are being undertaken in our overcrowded prisons, gardening is being encouraged as a way to give men meaning in their lives -- and to save money by providing a source of food for the prisons.

Only then, when I turned the page, an even bigger coincidence presented itself, this time on the too-familiar obituary page. Former prison guard, Albert Hollinger had died. It had supposedly been bullets from Hollinger's weapon that had killed Mary Steinhauser. And here, within a day of her death's anniversary, was his death.

Details of his obituary made it seem as though he'd suffered his own difficult times in life, alluding to PTSD.

Coincidences, remembrances. Lives intertwined. May all of them now rest, in peace.

Where's the fair in fairness?

 And where is the just in justice? Looking in the dictionary hasn’t helped.

Yesterday’s decision permitting Conrad Black back into Canada makes me wonder what’s going on in this country – a country once known for its compassionate sense of justice.

Black was convicted of serious crimes, which in itself is supposed to make him less-than-welcome. Beyond that, in the interests of acquiring a lordship in England, Black officially renounced his Canadian citizenship.

So why, I ask, does the red tape fly out the door and the gold-plated welcome mat get laid at his feet?

The unfairness of this decision seems even more horrific when contrasted with the case of Rodney Watson. He’s the American soldier who found Iraq to be more than he’d bargained for, and quite a contrast to what he’d been told to expect. Like so many other soldiers of conscience, he left the US army and headed for Canada, where he thought he would find asylum.

Only Watson hasn't been granted asylum in our country. Rather, he has been residing in sanctuary provided by Vancouver’s First United Church.

The full horror of his situation sinks in when you realize he's been living at the church since the autumn of 2009 – nearly three years.

Yet Conrad Black waltzes in after waiting a day.

Is it simply because Rodney Watson doesn’t have the kind of bankroll Conrad Black has?

Like I said, could somebody please show me what’s fair about this?

Too much hope

Apparently that’s what our group of ‘outmates’ brought to our fellow writers, the inmates at Matsqui Penitentiary.

The powers-that-be at the institution have decreed that our occasional retreat weekends, where insiders and outsiders get together to workshop samples of our current writing, have forthwith been cancelled.

This was a program that cost the institution almost nothing. Okay, the prison provided us with lunch on both Saturday and Sunday. But really, these meals could not have cost a lot, as they were usually grilled cheese or sloppy joes or hot dogs – the same fare given to the men for their midday meal. Further, we brought our own supplies for making coffee and tea. We even brought doughnuts for all (including a separate box of doughnuts for the guards).

Reasons for the program’s cancellation? Several petty-sounding issues have been cited, but it mainly seems yet another way to punish the inmates.

It sounds mostly as though the men were getting too much out of it. Especially too much in the way of self-respect.

Yet, if inmates don’t get the chance to develop self-respect while they’re incarcerated, how – when they’re released – can they be expected to reintegrate themselves back into society as self-respecting, law-abiding citizens?