The last flower of summer

And so much more to mark this last day of September, as today is the day we observe Truth and Reconciliation Day in Canada. 

It's only over the past decade that much in the way of Truth has come out. 

Still plenty to go when it comes to Reconciliation, but I believe that many of us are trying to learn. 

I liked that this last little flower had the good sense to be wearing its own orange shirt. 

Every Child Matters

Today is the second year we in Canada have observed Truth and Reconciliation Day. It was around this time last year that I was in Victoria and saw those many pairs of children's shoes lined up on the steps of the Legislature Buildings. It was a powerful statement reminding us that Every Child Matters -- a lesson that's now included in most school curricula. 

My observance this year is quieter, staying home, but with the suggestion of a new book to read (along with a glimpse of my little 'orange shirt' pin given to me as a gift by a longtime dear friend). 

If you'd like a nudge to read this novel, here's a link to a review of it. 

At the very least, we must all remember the past, or we are doomed to let it play out again. 

A Sad-iversary

I can't quite bring myself to call it an anniversary, as that conjures happy celebrations in my mind. This one, observed yesterday, is not a day for celebrating. Yet it's certainly important enough to mark and remember. 

It was a year ago that the announcement came, telling us that 215 graves had been found on the site of a former residential school here in BC. 

This morning, poking through a stack of books in the living room, I once again opened a book that tells a story of life in such a school. Called The Ledgerbook of Thomas Blue-Eagle, it's a contemporary re-creation of just the kind of books children were given to keep their lessons in -- leftover ledger books donated by the local bank. No matter that the paper was lined for keeping accounts; children kept their own accounts, in this case, with details of a boy's young life. 

Text accompanying the image above reads in part:

At night we had to wear long red suits that scratched our skin. We slept on iron beds. It was very different from sleeping in my warm tipi under buffalo robes with Two Painted Horse nearby. Each boy was allowed only one keepsake to remind him of home...

This book and its story comes from the US, where things were somewhat different than here in Canada. For one thing, I don't believe children in our residential schools were allowed to keep anything, not even their long hair. 

Because I've been away (and offline), this blog has been empty for a few weeks. But with an observance as important as this one -- with even our Governor General in attendance -- it seemed like the right time to come back to the big limb. 

Puzzling

Yesterday's meeting of the Vancouver Metro Board was supposedly the day for them to make a decision regarding the fate of the Hazelmere Valley and the area around the Little Campbell River. But one of the directors (a Surrey City Councillor) made a last-minute motion that would pause the matter. Despite some grumbling from others on the Board, the motion squeaked past by three votes. 

I'm not sure what to do next in terms of actions to continue advocating on behalf of protecting the area. 

So that's why I'm puzzled.

But I suppose that state is somewhat appropriate, as today--strange though it may seem--is National Puzzle Day! 

It sure seems as though there's a day for just about everything, and in light of today's observance, I'm declaring it Clear-Off-the-Table Day, so I can start working on a puzzle I've been delaying for too long. It will be a nice diversion from the research and reading I've been doing, as I try to learn all I can about aquifers and groundwater and protecting the last vestiges of natural, green environment. 

I take heart though, because even before I start dealing with organizing that tumbled pile of pieces on the table, I can see quite a few hopeful spots of green.  

Merry Christmas, reboot

Today's the day that many people around the world celebrate Orthodox Christmas. We're among them, though we do so in a smaller way than on December 25th. 

It's easy enough to get in the mood, especially with so much of our local world looking like a Christmas card. The photo is one I took while we were out for a walk in our neighbourhood. 

Often, it turns out that the last week of December will be cold here. But this year, that cold spell has extended well into the new year, and managed to break a number of temperature (and snow depth) records along the way. 

I'm mostly grateful that today's Christmas celebration will be much lower key than that other one. No one's coming over to open gifts (there aren't any), and there won't be a turkey in the oven, not even a fresh batch of butter tarts. Though on second thought, I may have to rethink that last bit. 

Anniversaries and fresh starts

Although I knew that today is National Indigenous People's Day, if I hadn't heard it on the news, I wouldn't have realized that this is the 25th anniversary of this observance. Time. Such a strange phenomenon. Sometimes it moves so slowly; other times it seems to be in the blink of an eye. 

One aspect of this year's observance that seems worth noting is the fact that our current Parliamentary Poet Laureate, Louise Bernice Halfe -- Sky Dancer is Indigenous and spent part of her early years attending Residential School. 

Her poem called "Angels" reminds of us of the children whose graves were discovered at the old school in Kamloops. It's posted on the Poet-Laureate website and you can read it here. 

Maybe it's time...

...that God needs a new pronoun too. 

My uncle often used to lead a prayer when we sat down to eat. And I loved that he generally began, "We thank thee, blessed Father/Mother..." an opening that acknowledged a being beyond the boundaries of a single given gender. 

On this day when we recognize one of the most intense complexities of mathematics, pi, it seems like a good time to grant a broader expansiveness to that most complex of all human constructs, the idea of God. 

And, if we're the sort who sometimes offers thanks to such an entity, we need to be grateful for Their (rather than Her or His) generous ways.

Keeping score

This rusty little box has been on a shelf in my office for a score of years. I don't remember exactly why I decided to make a millennial time capsule, but it must have seemed like a good idea at the time. Noticing it yesterday, and being on the cusp of a new decade (one with two 20's in it no less), I decided the day had come to open it.

At first glance, it looked pretty rough inside. No critter had been into it, but time had taken a toll on some of the items.

The series of millennial postage stamps look much older than 20 years. But they bring a certain cachet to the treasure trove of items inside. I love the fact that they were issued in honour of humanitarians and peacekeepers, the people whose faces probably also belong on our money.

And yes, the price of a stamp has more than doubled since I stashed these away. These oldies cost 46 cents (and may not have had tax added on back then), while today's basic postage stamp for delivery within Canada is $1.05. With the addition of the 5 cents for tax, they're now a whopping $1.10. No wonder people have abandoned writing letters and sending cards. Email and texting are not only cheaper, but waaaay faster.

I can't remember having any big fascination with Wonder Woman, though I do admit to owning a lamp that bears her image.

Apparently there were several incarnations of her back then, even a Barbie version, one I never bought into.

Yet somehow I got my hands on a Wonder Woman Pez dispenser, so in she went too.

I didn't open her packaging, so can't attest to the condition of the candies, but remembering how unappealing Pez usually were (even when brand-new fresh), I don't imagine these would be very delicious.

As for the 'official' millennial candy, m&m's made a certain sense, especially to me, a person who's always understood (and appreciated) Roman numerals. Where M means 1,000, the choice of m&m's was spot on. It's probably good that I only kept the lid to the container they came in, or critters may well have been tempted to discover my little cache.

While the Harry Potter books had only been out for a few years in December of 1999, they'd already made their mark on kids (of all ages, including me). The Band-Aids with the glow-in-the-dark lightning mark were intended, I am sure, to be worn on foreheads. But yes, here they sit mostly still in their wrappers (except for the one I couldn't resist opening).

Other items in there seem mostly pretty silly -- a CBC medallion in celebration of 60 years, an old library card and even a membership card from our once-upon-a-time video store.

There's also a bunch of quarters, mostly bearing the number 1999, though it turns out they were called 'millennial' coins. It's the same old image of the Queen on the front, though younger by some years, but their verso sides have some interesting designs: Voyageurs, pictographs, even a vintage airplane. The one I like best, which is dated 2000, bears the name "Natural Legacy" with an illustration of a salmon, a tree, and a cloud with falling rain. Little silvery treasures to be sure, though none with much value, as at least one side of each coin is badly tarnished, probably from spending so much time in a cheap metal box.

The item that got me thinking about all of this was Saturday's Globe and Mail, with its article about Y2K because yes, what else turned up in my little time capsule from 20 years ago but several sheets of stickers, bearing fanciful warnings about the much-dreaded (then) Y2K bug -- something that was bound to screw up our banking and send us all back to some pre-techno age.

So much for that worry, at least. I'm sure we can come up with others, probably next will be the further invasion of AI into our lives.

Happy new year, happy decade, and hey, who's keeping score?

What's the difference between a saying and a proverb?

Or, for that matter, between tradition and folklore?

Of this new month, March, it's been said that if it comes in like a lion, it will go out like a lamb, a saying that has a number of possible origins (all of which may well be a kind of folklore all their own). 

And I suppose the converse might be considered true when it comes in the way this one has -- sweet and mild as our city-bred visions of what a lamb must be like (even though wobbly little lambs can be pretty feisty, ready to nip at fingers, hoping they might work the same way teats do).

So, does that mean our Easter weekend will be wild and blustery? Who knows. We've got the rest of the month to find out.

Silent Spring?

Not meaning to reference Rachel Carson's prescient book, Silent Spring, just offering a comment on how 'silent' this blog has been. No particular reason (other than 'life' getting in the way), though I am a bit sad over all the days for special events/observances that I've missed.

There was World Poetry Day on March 21st, International Water Day on the 22nd, and of course, one of our earliest ever dates for the Vernal Equinox, March 19th. Oddly, spring's arrival in this part of the world coincided with the end of this year's Earth Hour observance -- an observance that I managed to miss doing properly this year. I turned down a few lights, but didn't do it right. Just another of many observances I haven't properly heeded this spring.

But today is Easter. As you'll see from the green pot above, I accidentally 'pre-dyed' this year's dozen eggs. I like to use cloth in the pot, as I've found it keeps the eggs from bumping into each other (and cracking). Only this year's tea towel seems to have still had too much of its own colouring in it, as the eggs (which were brown, farm ones to start with) came out bearing a lovely green tinge.

As a result, the ones from the 'Bunny' all turned out in their own new muted shades for the celebration.

If you observe Easter, I hope it is happy. If you're more into celebrating the season with its many changes, enjoy that. By the way, I understand that any sweet treats you happen to eat today are calorie-free -- or so my pal the Bunny told me.

Palmate

When I was growing up, one of the (few) days on the church calendar that made any sense to me was Palm Sunday – and maybe not so much that it made sense, as that it made me happy to be at church that day.

I suspect what I liked was the fact that Palm Sunday was the day we received a swath of palm leaf. Although only a small token, that dried bit of palm felt like a gift – the single day at church when, instead of just throwing coins into a basket, we got something back.

I came to associate the day with things changing, going forward. It may have been Palm Sunday when my parents decided to buy the house they’d been considering. I think I met one of my best boyfriends that day. Silliness perhaps, but a person seeking direction is alert to points that may be worth marking.

Yesterday was this year’s Palm Sunday, and though I can’t say I noticed any big shift going on in my life, I did discover some beautiful palms. I bet they’re the same variety that would have been blessed and distributed had I still been someone who believed in going to church.

As with so many religious observances, when it comes to Palm Sunday there’s some crossover in the events of origin. Jesus, who was a Jew (a fact that some Christians may find heretical) was riding a donkey into Jerusalem as he was preparing to celebrate Passover.
He was greeted by people laying palms along the ground. And today – at least in Canadian time zones – is the first day of Passover.

Even though I don’t follow any particular religion anymore, it’s clear that those early lessons were imprinted, as some of those early-learned stories appear now and then in one of my poems.

Whether this is the week when you observe rituals associated with Holy Week (pre-Easter) or Passover, or simply the changing of the seasons, may it be a time when you can hold your own palm open to whatever lies ahead.

Isn't today supposed to be a holiday?

The long-promised February holiday, at that.

For years, the people of BC have been lagging behind the rest of Canada, waiting for that long weekend break that would mark the almost-halfway point between Christmas and Easter.

When the holiday was first proposed, a lonnnng time ago, it was suggested that the day coincide with designating the Maple Leaf as the emblem for our flag. Since that was first made official on February 15, 1965, the date suggested was the third Monday in this, the shortest (even though it often feels the longest) month.

Although many Canadian provinces and territories now have a February holiday, nobody calls it Flag Day. While that's fine with me -- face it, it sounds way too patriotic -- it is a bit odd that there are so many different names for the February observance.

In Prince Edward Island it's called Islander Day. Straightforward and to the point, very PEI'ish.

Manitoba celebrates an important figure from its history by naming their holiday Louis Riel Day.

The Yukon does things its own way and not only has its own name for the day, but its own day. They celebrate on the last Friday of the month, so this year's Heritage Day turns out to be February 22nd. I'm thinking a Friday holiday sounds like more fun than a Monday one. After all, did you ever hear anyone say TGIM?

About the only consistent name for this holiday is Family Day, the term it's known by in Alberta, Saskatchewan and Ontario.

And this year we in BC get added to the list of those celebrating Family Day. But while the rest of the provinces get their holiday today, the third Monday in the month, we had ours all on our own last week. What the heck is that about?

We know that Christy Clark doesn't always see eye-to-eye with the other premiers, but really, does her personal 'drum' have to dictate its beat to the rest of us?

Or is this date to commemorate our expen$ive Olympics from 2010 which opened the second weekend in February? If that really is the case, you'd think -- especially with the financial woes her party keeps trying to explain away -- Clark would have quietly gone along with the rest of the country and chosen the third weekend too.

Happy Family Day today to most of Canada.

The egg was first...

For all of my ongoing rebellions at the often ridiculous demands of life, at heart, I'm a sucker for tradition.

I can't remember a year when I didn't find a way to dye a few eggs, not even last year when we were travelling in The Rattler, the beloved RV.

But this year, I got to thinking about how this tradition began -- and why.

The Internet is loaded with many explanations, though most seem to offer the logical line of thinking, that the egg is a sign of rebirth and of the renewed promise brought to us by springtime.

I was glad to learn that the idea is widespread, and not restricted to Christian beliefs surrounding the resurrection of Jesus.

Other religions respect the symbology of the egg. It's even a part of Passover observances, which (if I'm not too mistaken) begin this evening.

Whatever you may celebrate or observe, I hope you'll think about the simple power contained within the enduring egg.