Towards agreement??

Canada Post workers have been without a reasonable settlement to their contract for over a year now. Last December their strategy was meant to make their point by disrupting the delivery of Christmas cards and parcels. But the trouble was, that ploy didn't work. 

It caused plenty of inconvenience to people outside of Canada who wanted to send gifts and greetings to friends here, but Canadians mostly took to using alternate delivery services, like UPS or Purolator. Besides, it gave us a good excuse to quit or at least cut back on the number of cards we sent. 

Finally, it's beginning to look like some sort of arrangement, satisfactory to both sides of the bargaining table, might be in the works. It all sounds pretty tentative, but I like to think that both sides are reaching out, seeking a meaningful and lasting resolution--sort of like the way the flag in front of our local post office seems to be reaching to grab hold of the little tree out front. 

Now, if only some kind of agreement could be reached that would see the end of the terrible war in Ukraine. And not a list of demands assembled by the Russians, a plan that would see Ukrainians worse than before Russia invaded there, nearly four years ago. 

Reaching for an agreement, I'm hoping, one that will mean a lasting peace. 

Helpless

That's the word for what I've been feeling lately. Unable to do anything about all that's going on. 

The horrific bombing of civilians in Ukraine leaves me feeling empty, drained. My little vase with sunflowers and forsythia branches is all I have in the way of small hopes. The sunflower, with its face turning ever towards the warmth of the sun, is a symbol of Ukraine, the national flower. And the forsythia, with its fat little buds, will open soon with a promise for spring. 

Sadly, on a much smaller scale, is the peril I am feeling for the fate of my city, with its optimistic sounding slogan, The Future Lives Here. 

Considering the swaths of trees that have been disappeared along the King George Highway (oops, more rebranding, as it's now called King George Boulevard, aka KGB), it's not going to be a very green future. Somehow I've always had it in mind that the word 'boulevard' suggests an elegant, tree-lined route. Not any more, not here. This despite the many cautions about climate change heating up and the necessity to protect and plant as many trees as we can. 

Even as I am typing this, the City Council is, I believe, about to rubber-stamp approval for fourth and final reading on the fate of lands abutting the Tata'lu/Little Campbell River, the area that's been rebranded with the gentrified name, South Campbell Heights -- which sounds more like a suburb in a Nancy Drew book than a plan to pave an aquifer. 

Helpless as well in that I can't even manage to open the supposed live-stream access to the Council meeting. Not that I would have been able to do anything, but I believe it's important to bear witness when we can. 

Which, I suppose, is why I keep watching tv news -- to bear witness to the massacre and destruction in Ukraine. All I've been able to do towards helping has been to make a donation to the Canadian Red Cross, where I believe the federal government is still matching what we give. 

Hoping that all of us will find our own ways of honouring all that's going on during these times that feel more and more like the defeat of goodness, the triumph of evil, sometimes like maybe the end of the world. 

Art and war: a remembrance

This isn't the usual statuary one envisions when Ottawa’s war memorial is mentioned. Still, it's the one I prefer, as it honours our country's longstanding tradition of serving as a peacekeeper. 

I've spent much of the weekend thinking about Remembrance Day and thinking as well about War Art.

In ways, the term seems almost contradictory, as what can be beautiful about war?

And the more I thought about it, the stronger I grew in my conclusion that War Art mostly turns out to be Anti-War Art. 

Last week at the library I picked up a DVD -- with no forethought or plan -- it was just one of my usual 'radar' grabs. This was truly the right weekend to watch it, with its hugely powerful statements on the horror that is war. 

It's a 1957 film by Stanley Kubrick called Paths of Glory. I'd never seen it before, but thought the title sounded familiar. I guess I must have confused it with another war-themed film, Tunes of Glory. Though both are worth seeing, they're not at all the same, and don't even focus on the same war. 

The trench warfare images presented in Paths of Glory aren't particularly graphic or nightmare-inducing. The horror lies in the details of the story, one that illustrates the pointlessness of war and also the ruthless nastiness that power can inspire. 

Oddly, this weekend also turned out to be when a cousin of mine died. I hadn't seen him since we were kids, but have terrific memories of him, a once-in-a-while pretend little brother to me. When he grew up, he followed about as different a path from me as any two people could. He attended the U.S. Military Academy, West Point and chose to spend his whole working life in the military, a career that included a long stint at the Pentagon.  

And now, I can only hope that he has found peace.