Christmas Eve

It's December 24, a few hours short of a month since I wrote here. I have no particular excuse for being absent. It has been a full month, but not a wildly busy time for me. I guess part of it is that I have a daily routine, which I apparently follow virtually every day, so that an "extraneous" activity like writing has no assigned place.

Routine is one of the ways I order my life to give it some meaning. I'm not involved in any grand scheme or activity - sometimes I think I should be - but the end of the day comes quickly each and every day.  The one activity in which I engage is my morning swim. I chug up and down the pool for 30 - 45 minutes every weekday morning, careful to go slowly, so as not to provoke an angina attack. So far, so good, and I do puff and sweat in the doing of it. A good workout. I have mostly abandoned walking for the winter. Too slippery. I fell once last year and became aware that this is how old folks break hips. I slid down once earlier this winter - no hard fall - but a warning I will heed, now that I have found an alternative. I ache afterwards, shoulder and knees, but that's common at my age.

I rejoice in the pool, and think, and pay attention to my body and how it speaks to me. I suppose that's a continuation of recovery. It never ends. When you are 81, it's recovery or rapid decline. Decline comes anyway, but I resist it as much as I am able.

One thing that has occupied my thoughts and reflections through this December is the deepening power of consumerism on all of us. I spent two part-days in the Bower Mall in Red Deer a few frantic faces around me, although clearly some people appeared to be enjoying themselves. The shops seemed desperate in their displays, a concomitant of our sagging economy here in Alberta. Many people are out of work who have become accustomed to "the Life" as I call it. You know: a fifth wheel, a big truck, snow mobiles and ATV's, all on payments. When the income shrinks, the pressure is acute, and unfamiliar. It's been awhile since Alberta's had a "bust", and everybody was comfortable in the "boom." So Christmas is hard for many. Food bank usage is up, the unemployment rate is higher than the national average, and many people are afraid and angry. After a few years of good living, the arrival of austerity feels like your being cheated, having become used to good living. Not a pleasant prospect. There's been a lot of talk about this at Tim's as pensioners look at their shrinking wallets.

At a more personal level, this Christmas has brought one change to my
'celebration' of the season. I failed to put up a Christmas tree. First time ever. The reason is terribly practical. I was afraid of wrestling and struggling with a tree, fearful of upper body exertion that would spark an angina attack. I remembered the trials of last year, putting up a lovely tree. Neither of us can stomach a fake tree, which leaves me with a dilemma. I'm not happy with no tree, but fearful of the task of putting it up. I'll have to figure out a solution before next year, because I don't want to do this again. I wonder how many other 80+ year olds feel in the same boat? I'll ask around over the next few weeks.

Our friends the Chans will be here tonight, and will stay for Christmas. On Boxing day - my birthday - Beatrix and I will go to Edmonton to tour the Legislature, and look at the Magna Carta, which is here until the 29th of December. I'm looking forward to that.

Hopefully, it won't be another month before I write again. In the meantime, whatever your faith, or lack of it, enjoy the holiday, religious or secular, in good health. See you in 2016!

November

It's been almost a month since I posted here. Not surprising, as it was a quiet and humdrum month! Most of what happened was routine; snow tires on, doctors visited, volunteer commitments fulfilled, political meetings attended.

This month we began looking at appropriate places to live in Wetaskiwin, a task which prodded us in to the start of a purging process of our possessions. It is amazing what you collect after 13 years in one place. We have tons of "stuff"- as George Carlin called it -  to get rid of. Some to sell, and some to just junk.

I spent some anxious moments trying to figure out what is an "appropriate" amount of exercise to engage in, without triggering an angina attack. Swimming seems to be best way to go. I can backstroke quite steadily for 30 minutes with no consequences. Walking is more chancy. I can get the pace right, but the cold air to breathe is a problem, according to my physician. I may stop walking and just swim every day until spring. We'll see.

All of this has added a new dimension to the concept of "recovery." Caution has to be introduced, and boundaries set, and a certain amount to risk undertaken, to find out what is possible and safe, while being beneficial in the way of exertion. For reasons I can't articulate, I have grown my beard out. It looks fine, and I'm still trying to figure out why it seemed important to do this!

We haven't made any headway in Christmas preparation. Too much other stuff in the way. This week has got to be the start. Christmas letter to write, gift shopping planned and done. All very domestic and dull, but seasonally important. It's amazing how anxiety interferes with normal life and normal tasks, siphoning off energy and attention from ordinary life.

I'll try to be more regular with postings in December, but that may depend on something noteworthy happening. Perhaps the adventure of getting a tree will spur me on!

Still here!

Almost the end of October, and I haven't posted in a month! Busy month, including a visit to Ottawa to see Jennifer and the boys. Great talks with all four of them - young adults now, only one left in High School. Others are studying…engineering, paramedic studies, drama and business. All on their way. Good visits with Jennifer and friend Balou.

Downside of the month: the return of urological symptoms, and a visit to ER for that. The joys of ageing. Also, a brief visit from angina…first time, bringing on new meds. Something else to monitor and deal with.

I had my first walk of the month this morning, and look forward to a swim in the morning. My physician reminds me to pace myself, and not go at it too strongly. Words to heed, if I plan to live awhile longer.

Winter has blown its frosty breath across our community. The wind was biting this morning, a harbinger of things to come. I have always loved winter, although now it takes more to keep me warm than previously. As I write, I am resolving to be more regular on this page, and to try and share some of the reading I'm doing. Currently, the Last Asylum, a true account of the closure of the last "Lunatic Asylum" in the UK. The author was a patient there a few times, as well as being a fine historian. Her own story and that of the institution in rewarding, especially for one who spent some time working in psychiatric institutions.

One gift I brought home from Ottawa is a bundle of neatly pressed maple leaves, all red and yellow. This national symbol is not found in our part of the country, do is novel to have. I stuck them all over our kitchen cupboards to welcome me home.

Back! Sort of…

I've been missing in action for a week or two. Not away, just "missing." A combination of distraction, ennui and a growing sense of "what the hell?" The dragging-on-forever election is one reason. A needed change in medication another. Lack of sleep factors in there somewhere.

I know, I know, "Excuses, excuses…" But I have not been feeling up to snuff recently, and hopefully, my medical consultation today will change that. On the plus side, I did have the energy to swim a full kilometre today, first time in a while. Hopefully I can do that again soon. It feels so…good!

I'll be glad when the election is over, although if it turns out badly for the left-of-centre people like me, I'll be crushed. More whining will ensue. I will stop for the day, since I literally have nothing useful to say. Wouldn't it be great if more on-line writers did the same?

Reminiscence…and grief

As part of our planning to move in the next two years, we are beginning to divest ourselves of a lot of "stuff." A lot of books have already gone. Beatrix has tackled her office closet. The other day I decided to begin the same process in my office. I started with the most personal part of the office; the filing cabinet. I began that task with the most personal drawer in the cabinet, the bottom drawer, where a lot of personal material resides. That became an intensely painful time.

The bottom drawer contains, among other things, the fat files of my mother's papers, and another of my father's papers. Suddenly, I was cast back to the late 80's, when the two of them died, six months apart. I haven't looked at that material for over twenty years - a form of denial, I am sure.

Birth certificates, pictures, hand written notes, immigration papers, and a wealth of family tree material. I was overcome with grief and sadness, which clings to me yet, over 24 hours later. I traced my parents' families back as far as 1790. I encountered names I had long forgotten, like Erasmus Trowsse, a great great great uncle. I discovered the Lindsay family on my father's side, and that I am very distantly related to the former Mayor of New York City , John Lindsay. The information and its emotional meaning still swirls round in my brain. I feel overwhelmed and burdened with it. It's like my parents died just a few days ago, and I am only now starting to mourn them and the long families that trail behind them.

I had the presence of mind to make copies of everything family tree related, so I can pass it to my children. They will do as they like with it. I am fearful that I will do little more than read it over again, to try and take it in. I feel disappointed in myself that I didn't deal with this material twenty years ago. Another regret.

Today I began another drawer, and encountered files of sermons I preached in the 60's, 70's and 80's. I suddenly want to read them all, and cling to them. Why? I have ignored and forgotten them for decades. But they take me back. I read a funeral meditation I gave at the service of an old psychiatric colleague with whom I worked in Winnipeg. He died in the 70's. I was able to read and recall him well, a strong man who hid his amazing history from most of us until his family told us at the end of it all. I was quite eloquent over a man I knew and cared deeply about.

Reading an old letter of mother's, I came face to face with the warmth she radiated all the time I knew her. Seeing my father Certificate of Proficiency from the St John's Ambulance Corps, dated January 1923, just a few months before he came to Canada. Afresh surprise was discovered on a neatly printed card where he had quoted a full poem by Goethe, focused on faith and love. This, from the hand of an agnostic who had me thinking all my life that he was an atheist!

These papers will not go out. I will read them again and again, and recover my deceased parents with a  fondness that suddenly wells up in me. Surely the remainder of my culling can't be more painful or revealing than this. Or could it be?

September song, part 1

It has been awhile. Blame it on reintegration at home, as well as ramping up of the election campaign Federally. The latter has seen me running around, erecting signs on lawns where people have asked for them, and making arrangements for a Candidate Kickoff meeting which was held last evening.

The Federal election campaign has been most interesting. The governing Conservatives have been taking a hard time in the media and in the polls. A scandal inside the PM's office, the appointment if crooked Senators currently before the courts, as well as rogue candidates being fired and replaced, has left the Pm scrambling to try and stay on message - unsuccessfully. The current Syrian refugee crisis is giving him grief as well.

The two more progressive parties, The Liberals and the New Democrats, have been jousting for first place in the runnings. The Liberals have a charismatic pretty face as leader, deemed by many to be too young and inexperienced to be PM, while the ND's have a seasoned political vet, with lots of experience in the Quebec National Assembly, as well as generally more progressive policies. The campaign is just now, after 6 weeks, beginning to ramp up and get exciting. The next 6 weeks will tell a more complete tale.

I had a lovely visit in Didsbury with a former student; mostly a sharing of current aging woes as well as dreams for the future. I got myself a new tattoo - the Strachan family crest - on my right forearm. This will probably be all for the time being; no more arm space, and lots of pondering before tattoos anywhere else.

I've noticing lately some deterioration in my physical condition. I gained a few pounds on vacation - about 5 - and I have been having trouble losing them. I also notice that my knees are more painful than previously. My morning walks are more of a challenge. the knee braces I purchased on vacation help a good deal, but there is no denying that things are worse in that area. My back, too, is slower to respond to treatment and rest. Almost 81, so I suppose I can't expect anything different. We've both been taking a new herbal remed, the pure version of Turmeric. It is reportedly really good for the reduction of inflammation. I'm watching for even limited improvement.

I've been watching both email and the post for news of my mail-in ballot arriving, as well as the application for a license to marry a couple in Toronto in Ontario. Vital Stats in Ontario have a very rigorous process for the obtaining of a day license. They must have had some bad experiences, or else they have a dragon for a supervisor.

My reading ability has been a bit compromised by an eye problem, and I've wandered away from serious reading for a bit.  Novels are fine, but my brain is currently lazy about absorbing heavier stuff. Soon, perhaps. More in a few days, I hope.

back on the home place

We arrived home from our almost-month-long trip just prior to last weekend. In the end, we both felt the need to get into our own home and our beds. The last part of our trip, our Val Marie time, was somewhat dampened by the less-than-stellar state of our B&B. The owner has a great facility for making the ordinary sound wonderful. We fell for the pitch, and found the digs cramped and somewhat unsatisfactory for $100 a day.

Driving home, I was impressed with the way in which the simple act of sitting in a car all day quite tiring. A symptom of advancing age, I imagine. I was glad to get my feet on terra firma again. It took us more than a day to unpack, wash clothes and get re-oriented to home. We managed to attend worship together on Beatrix' last Sunday of vacation.

The rush of current events caught up to us last evening. Our political party's nomination meeting for our constituency was held Monday evening. Two candidates, one a senior and very experienced male, the other a young Aboriginal woman. The man one. He'll be a good candidate, if a bit of a maverick. He may give our very conservative Conservative MP a good run for his money. It will be his last campaign, as he is 65, and a representative of a long past of service. The young woman, unseasoned, but bright, is the face of the next election, and our party's future. But as the Cons say of Justin Trudeau, "she just isn't ready."

My enthusiasm for the party's national aspirations are not matched by those for my own riding. I think our candidate is too much of a lone wolf, too out-of-step with party strategy, to make a huge impact. There is no doubt that he is a good speaker, and very knowledgeable. He tends to do too much on his own, without calling on the resources of others, and he just can't be everyplace at once.

I'm in the midst of a very slow time for me, a chance to write a bit and ponder life. Likely a very good thing to do at this juncture of my life. I have decisions to make about what I will spend my energy on this winter, and what, if anything, I will write. My time of writing for the local paper is about at an end, and I see no other valid avenues for me right now. So I ponder and watch, and wait. And listen.

I'm finding that my attention span for reading is shrinking, as is my enthusiasm. That's something new for me, and I hope it changes. It may, on the other hand, be one of those things about which I must the 'courage to accept the thing I cannot change.'

As my ex-mother in law was wont to say, "more anon."

On the Road again.....

The last time I posted, we had just begun our vacation. Today, we are four days from returning home after almost a month on the road! We visited three families of children with their children - our grandchildren - and an ailing friend in another city. We have traversed most of three Canadian provinces, and experienced a couple of rain and wind storms.

Among the highlights of our travels was a memorable dinner with daughter Janet and her two sons, with the fiancee of of one of the boys. We had a lovely weekend with Kathryn and company, watching our grandson Angus (15) pass from boy to adolescent, and report for his very first ay of work. A long and deep conversation with Keith and Kathy was greatly appreciated by myself and by Beatrix, helping me to connect again with my son.

Visiting Gordon and Hazel in Regina was a good thing to do. Gordon is ailing and his spouse, who recently broke her hip, is frail. Her rrazor  ssharp wit remains intact, however, and provided lots of humor during our time together.

At this point, we are back in Val Marie and on the edge of the Grasslands National Park, where we did our first hike today. I am frustrated by my diminished capacity for uphill walking, and hence, the lessening of my chances of doing all the walking I'd like to do. This time, an added complication is Beatrix' hip bursitis, which slows he down, and gives her considerable pain to boot.(Bad pun....)

We shared a musical concert in the hotel bar last evening with a large crowd of locals. The music wasn't my favourite style, butt the cause was the support of the Prairie Winds coffee shop, bookstore  and museumm  and bookstoore..The iPaad is  accting up again,, o I'll  stop..

A full day!

Exciting days in Medicine Hat. Yesterday a visit to an exquisite rural museum at Etzicom, complete with a badly deteriorating windmill museum, plus a stop at Red Rock Coulee, complete with - you guessed it - red rocks formed at the bottom of the ocean that once covered this part of the country. Climbing the hill in a screaming wind proved to be a monumental feat, accomplished with some difficulty.

Today, we visited St. Patrick's Church, a beautiful neo-Gothic building across the river in the Hat. While there, admiring gorgeous stained glass, we had a terrific visit with the janitor, an Iraqi immigrant, who shared some of his story with us, after letting us in graciously through a locked door. Later in the day, after a supposedly Tapas lunch - no Tapas were in evidence - we had an equally fascinating visit withe the owner/operator of the Millagro Food shop. This retired police officer from Saskatchewan is a purist. He makes Cuban coffee fresh for each cup, bakes his own bread and buns, and serves world famous Kosher hot dogs, straight from New York! His cafe, about 10 feet square, is a choice delight. Smoothest and sharpest coffee I've had in months. We plan to return for a proper lunch in the next day or two, to sample the real goods!

He was a trove of great thoughts about places to eat in Medicine Hat, plus a purist chef';s view of the food industry. A visit to the Esplanade art exhibits, plus a display of old motorcycles, including a racer build around a jet engine! Imagine straddling an engine with after burners and 2000 lbs of thrust! We are at home now before venturing out to another eating adventure, likely Indian or Vietnamese food. This town has an amazing collection of ethnic eateries! Who knew?      

Vacation!

At last, on vacation! Beatrix and I enjoyed an-almost five day workshop/retreat at the Juniper Hotel in Banff this past week. It was a spiritual under with the leadership of John Philip Newell, former head of the Iona Community in Scotland. It was entitled Rebirthing God. I found it a refreshing alternative to the Progressive Christianity movement as a way of moving forward in theological thinking as well as spiritual practice in the 21st century.

Newell blends very progressive, reflection based theology with prayer times and Meditation styles Of
 sorts to give participants a new angle on understanding God language, as well as grasping the notion of "God" in and under everything in the created order - a new way of expanding Paul Tillich's "God as ground-of-Being" approach. Newell has written a number of books on Celtic Spirituality, a refreshing change from traditional catholic-based spiritual practice, as well as from narrow and juvenile concepts of God as a Being up above controlling everything below.

The setting was delightful, on the edge of bustling (at least!) Banff, in the heart of the Rockies, with companiable people. Something I noticed in comparing the "workshop attendance crowd," is that thge particpants have beckome more upscale financially and more open to sptiritual/r,eligioud practice than in the old days

But now we are in Medicine Hat, on vacation! Today is - literally - the first day of t.ghe rest of this life! After breakfast, we are off to the Tourist Centre, for pointers on what to do first, second and so on. Talk to you more later! दिस्कोवेरेड ठाट 

At long last!

Monday morning we leave Ponoka for vacation! It can't come soon enough. I'm really pooped, for a number of reasons. I've been busier than I like with Rimbey pastoral concerns. Four Sunday services and sermons, and two funerals in a month. For an old guy like me, that seems like a lot of work.

Pre-packing - something I always do, given my poor memory - has demanded time and energy over the last week. Fussing about the financial statement for the Provincial government has literally had me panicking. It may be finished tomorrow, or when I come home. Either way, it still eats up a lot of nervous energy, given my incompetence with simple math.

I finally got my "Scottish Thistle" tattoo yesterday, along with a line of text that says, "COURAGE…to accept the things I cannot change." Not exactly the serenity prayer, but an appropriate prayer for an 80 year old man with some hard times ahead between now and death. So, I remind myself to "Man up, and get ready."

I'm a bit excited about my David and Goliath presentation for tomorrow. I hope it's as fun as it has been preparing. I even have smooth stones to show if there any children there!

I plan to write while I am traveling, but have no idea of a schedule for that yet. I'll be doing it on the iPad, so that will be a challenge for me.

I started James Carroll's book "Jesus, actually…", a theological critique of the outdated Christology of the orthodox denominations, conservative and otherwise. Carroll is a theologian and novelist who writes like a novelist: easy to read and cogent all the way. Enjoying it already. I have silly novel to read also, about a little old lady who pulls heists! I just have to survive packing the car and closing up the house before we go. It's very annoying, these pointless anxiety times, when nothing is really out of the ordinary. Hopefully, my vacation posts will have more substance and less fretting in them. Hopefully.

Ho Hum…sort of.

Well, it has taken me some time to get back here after charging my keyboard. The state of my mind as it is means that I got on with other things and haven't event looked at the possibility f writing on the iPad again since. I'll have to overcome my frustration and have another run at it.

Meanwhile, life has flowed on. Not much of note has happened to me, but that seems quite usual, since I live a life of routines. Preparing for Sunday worship, conducting a funeral or two have been major activities for me. A much more emotionally laden activity has been the replacement of my "new" dentures with yet another set of new dentures, this time from a denturist who appeared to be more competent and an artists to boot.

The whole denture saga has been one of high emotional stress and financial dis-tress. I had the new ones for four months, and in the end, still had mouth sores that made it difficult to eat, Four months, and $4800 !! I finally quit the denturist and went down the street to a newer one. She is competent, and funny, and cost me 1/2 the price! In just three weeks I have a set of teeth that fit, are not so bulky and unsightly, and that produce no sores. I have since begun to hear stories of my incompetent first choice. There is nothing I can do about it apart from warning people that he is an over charger, big time, and incompetent to booth! I think that adds up to shyster, but I will write that no other place but here.

Last week seemed to be a succession of medical visits of one kind or another, plus beginning to fuss about completing the financial report due the Provincial government after the recent election. Help with preparing that begins this after noon.

Evening now, and first steps on Provincial report done.I need a meeting with our candidate and a consolidation of our information to finalize the report. Another death to follow up on. An elderly man, with adult children all over central Alberta. Great fun trying to coordinate a meeting with them on the weekend.

The sky is grey tonight, and the air is still. There is a storm brewing somewhere in the region, promising 15-20 miml of rain before morning, plus lightening. It was be a restless night for many, as this sort of storm on the flat prairie often means hail. Large hail can devastate crops, just coming into full flower. It's an uneasy time in the atmosphere. We wait, and the farm folk scan the sky for signs of disaster or reprieve. 

One More Time…

So, here I go again, attempting to write a short post on the iPad, this time spell checking periodically. The smaller keys give me grief, so I must be vigilant.

Last time I tried this, I was attempting to introduce you to a fascinating book I was reading about Near Death Experiences, and Out of Body Experiences (NDE and OBE from now on.) The author is the grand daughter of a distinguished past Prime Minister of Canada, Lester B. Pearson. Her book is definitely NOT a religious book, although the title Opening Heaven's Door"is misleading in that direction. She began her research after her sister had an experience of  a visit from her father at the exact time that he was dying in another city.

The book catalogue's a huge list of similar experiences from all over the globe, and gathered in a few dozen research projects. She found that once people knew she was doing this research, they began to tell her stories that they had kept secret for up to 20 years, for fear of people assuming they were insane. Many people reported having visits from long dead relatives, being accompanied on hazardous journies by "third persons" who seemed to be guiding them, and others, who, at death's door, experienced tremendous light and love which encouraged them to regard death as something not to be feared. What is remarkable about all of these stories is the detail with which they are remembered, and how mind-boggling they are. Hard science people refuse to accept her research, because they insist that all consciousness is produced by the brain, and that any supposed consciousness outside the brain is impossible. Ms Pearson points out that this assertion itself is not scientifically  pro, butt  exists in the  ccategory of a commonly aaccepted myth.  ((ddouble letters ttht appear in this text are being logged by the iPad and not me.. IIt is printing slower than I am typing, so I suspect charging is needded.. I'll  stop and post,, and come back after  I recharge.

Sorry…

Well, that was a disastrous experiment, trying to put together working on a new machine, with too-small print, while commenting on a book that is becoming so important to me. Put that together with too-short a time span o write - therefore no careful proof reading - and you have everyone wondering just where you left your mind!

I was practicing on the iPad with an attached keyboard, in a new writing program, and the on-screen print was so small I had trouble reading it. I didn't think to spread the print on-screen with my fingers, as you can do with an iPad, until I had almost finished. I had to rush away before I proof read, so…you can see the multiple mistakes and confusion that ensued. A longer period of time to reflect on what I had written would have allowed me to explain the significance of Opening Heaven's Door to me. Oh well, I'll try again on the iPad, and this time I'll warn you, and I'll slow down. This is all I'll write for the moment, for again, I have to leave for another appointment. "When do I get time to be bored and lonely?" as my father said so many decades ago in his very busy retirement. Echoing Arnold Shwartznegger in The Terminator movies, "I'll be back…"

Of pure light and overwhelming lovre #1

I have been reading a most intriguiging boog recently, It is entitled, Opening Heaven's Door. The title suggrsts rather sappy religion to me,but thid id noy s religioud book. It's s book of science, exploring thr world of thode eho hsvr profounf spiritusl rxprtrirncrd as they approach desth, snf do in fsct die, but comr bsck vis resusitstion eith s fee minutes.. Their profound experienbce of light snd love id overwhelming, and their reluctance to return to the worlkd of their bodies is quiter strong, Many of their livs are chsnged permsnently by thid experience.

Reading this material has catapulted me back into my own anguished times of fering deth as the end of all I know snd all I am. It has been a recuraring fear since childhood, in spite og fsith, snd has caused great guilt in mydelf.Whst I sm learnibng from th znear dead, snd the once-was-desd, id thst desth is nothinbg to nfesr. theree is s prfound beyond, an experience of light snd ptofound love thst chsngerd  the remsins of earthly lifre totslly.

all this has been deeply satisfying for mr, snd hrlpd mr o intrgrste old mrmories snd fesrs into my current faith journey.Death is not to br fesred, but welcomed. zindeed, msny returnees find it daubting to return to the life they hsve known. They long fir the light, warmth snd lovr tyhry rncountrtrd, snd thst msrks thr remsining of thri dsys. aorganizational spiritual organizations becomne of little interest to tghem,even old relationships fade, The world of their future,where they are alive in a new way, continuedbto beckon for thr rest of their dsyd.

People feel a sense of çoming home'to thst reslm, and long to return to it, it is so much more real that this place, I am intrigued by thgid, drawn by it, snd deeply comforted by the possibiilities of lfr thstv id more beyond thid one thsn i can imsgine. some of my childhood dreams of fslling from s plsne seem t connect with these realitirs. Whst I sm learning mskrs me ponder even ther "trite"saying, everthing  has a reason."Thast reason may emenate from fsr beyond our present sbilities to see snd experience. I am becomig deeply excited bout this, especially as itnall relates to hints in scripture, and in my own internsl past! I will be writingmorre tthis summer sbout tghiss,, and what it means to me..  Wait for it!

Summer lands at last.

Been almost two weeks since I blogged. Busy time in some ways. My "racism" column hit the street the day after the Pope put out an Encyclical on Distributive Justice. I'm in good company. No overt reactions yet. I suspect seething in some quarters. Couple of funerals…one very strange.

Had a bit of a scare the other day. My vision has been bothering me, so I made an eye appointment. Then it occurred to me that it might be another stroke in the visual cortex. a sit in ER, and a careful exam dispelled my anxieties. The eye Dr. thinks all the tearing I did during pollen season dried my eye, right eye, and so there are dry spots on the cornea. Drops prescribed, and another visit next week.

I'm finally getting back to swimming after some weeks of snorkeling…which is less exercise. I'm out of form, drank a lot of water the first day back. Tomorrow I go straight to the swim. How many lengths in 45 minutes? I have to re educate my body. Work is recovery; recovery is work.

Tomorrow is the big stampede parade. Two bands, and a long line of horses and dignitaries in vintage cars. End result: horse poop on the streets. Candy for the kids, and a few soakers shot into the crowd. Even some real cowboys, as well as a few old farts pretending to be cowboys. Not me. I stand at the side and watch…for awhile. Leave the car at home. No parking downtown. A zoo. BUT…hotdogs at the UCC.

Two Sundays I have tried to deal with the TRC (Truth and Reconciliation Commission) regarding Indian Residential Schools. Tough in a basically racist community. Not everyone, but a lot of the old guard, who live with the long past and want to forget it. My guess: two generations to get it moving, if everyone works t it.

Tonight it's HOT, like 28 DEGREES AT 9;45. Tine to pack it in. Five thirty and the pool comes early. Nighty nite.

Steaming…

Almost two weeks since my last posting here. What have I been doing? Ministerial stuff mostly. An extra Sunday added to my roster, a gong-show funeral thrown in, plus dealing with the sulking of a Lodge Brother who is behaving like a ten year old. Granted, this takes little physical energy, but emotionally it’s draining and it feels like it uses up hours of time.

My “racism” column hits the newsstand next week. Perhaps I’m catastrophizing, but I expect a good deal of flack for this piece. For one thing, it calls out the Rednecks in my circle. They are not likely to be silent, although whether they will speak to me, or about me is a moot point. They won’t like it a bit that I have challenged their preferred vision of the world. They will write me off as a woolly-headed liberal, not worth their time, but they will be pissed off that I have maligned their home place. I intend to have coffee somewhere else that week. Call me a coward, but coffee time is for relaxing, reading and talking calmly with friends. It is not, in my books, for rancorous arguments about issues central to the country’s life.

Returned to the pool today at noon to see how the rehabbing of my arm is going. Swam six lengths, and found the breathing hard work. Out of shape. Disturbing to me was the fact that as I climbed out of the pool, I was dizzy enough to stagger, and felt unwell for a good half hour. Was it too much swimming? Was it the climb out of the pool? I’ll return to try again later this week, and swim a bit less. A moderate return to the 1-kilometer swim is clearly in the cards. Snorkeling is so much easier, with regular breathing going on, and no upper body exercise.

I’ve stayed up late because I am upset by a disturbing email from the bride to be in the wedding I’m conducting in Toronto in October. There has been a major misunderstanding between us. I maintain she used the wrong language in describing what she wanted of me; it is also clear that I could have/should have asked for precise clarification at the outset. I am annoyed that I have wasted time reading up on pagan rituals rather than hunting down a completely secular wedding service. Perhaps now I can sleep, having written this. G’night.

Truth, yes. Reconciliation? A very long and arduous process…

This week has been filled with heart-wrenching images on the TV, and in my community. The seven or eight year process of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission would down to a conclusion, with the presentation of it’d final, six volume report to the Canadian public. The morning long presentation was moving and dignified, as the witness of over 7000 former students of Indian Residential schools in Canada presented their collected pain and wisdom to the population of the country. The emotional tome was palpable, but muted, as the speakers shared their process  for all to see. At the conclusion of the event, the large crowd gave the Commissioners, Justice Murray Sinclair, Dr. Marie Wilson, and Chief Wilton Littlechild and lengthy standing ovation. The one ominous note in that final process was that the Federal Minister of Aboriginal Affairs refused to stand , or to applaud the Commissioners. The signal from out Federal Government was clear. They had little intention to honour the 94 recommendations of the report born out of the suffering of Aboriginal people.

The Canadian government – the so-called “Harper Government”- refuses to sign the Human Rights document on the Rights of Aboriginal People, and refuses to strike a National Inquiry into the deaths of thousands of Aboriginal women. These points of resistance were reiterated non-verbally at the conclusion of the event. Most telling for me was the non-attendance of the Prime Minister of Canada at this event. The palpable pain of the survivors of the schools and their children was basically refused acceptance by our government. No commitment was made on their behalf to enter into a dialogue of reconciliation  with the Aboriginal People.  Then facts emerging from the Commissions life seemed to have little effect on our leaders. That between 6000 and 12000 children died in the schools between 1880 and 1990 apparently had little impact on our political leaders. The fact that the death rate among the schools inhabitants occurred at the same rate – 1 in 25 persons – as the death rate among Canadian troops in WW2 – 1 in every 25 soldiers.

The insensitivity, even cynicism of our government – Harper’s government – was demonstrated when less than 24 hours after the Commission’s presentation, the Feds grabbed centre stage with a report on the shooting up of Parliament Hill by a deranged new-Muslim “terrorist” – a man clearly unbalanced and insane individual . The fear factor once again was used to swing attention away from the pain of the Aboriginal population back toward the government’s “fear:” agenda. Heartless cynicism and pure partisan agenda was deliberately set out to derail the purpose of the Commission.

The following day, the lukewarm Prime Minster did attend the closing ceremonies f the Commission, and had the temerity, the unmitigated gall to join hands with native leaders to prayer for the advancement of reconciliation between races in Canada, when his spoken and unspoken declarations are clear: he intends to do nothing, or as close to nothing as he can manage.

On that sad and depressing note I must stop. It is 3:30 in the AM, and in two hours I must walk 5 kilometers…recovery remains a high priority for me.

Sunshine Sketches…

The local Tim Horton’s Cafe is a hotbed of gossip in my community. There are a lot of us old codgers who gather there morning and afternoon to coffee and talk. The men talk about weather, machinery, and…much too often, about the negative aspects of anyone different from themselves. Lots of misogyny, lots of implied and expressed racism. Muslims, Aboriginal people (usually portrayed as lazy and/or drunk), women and young people are regular topics, Not every day, and not every one, but often enough that it’s depressing.

Also, whenever there is something new and unidentified happening in town, there are myriad rumours about what is really happening, and who is doing it. For example, a large parcel of land near Tim’s has been a vacant meadow for years. Suddenly, a few weeks ago, earth moving equipment moved in and began stripping away the topsoil and the clay beneath it. Al the earth was hauled away, and the vast hole got about five feet deep, covering an area as large as seven or eight football fields. They dug down deep enough that the water of the old swamp began to show at the surface. Then, overnight, the activity changed. Sand began to be trucked in, hundreds of tons of it. It was spread thinly around, and then methodically packed down, layer by layer, until the surface was at the original level of earth. It was clear that something was to be built there. But what? And by whom?

The men began sniffing around their contracting buddies to find out. The women surreptitiously canvassed their connection in the female world. Answer after answer came to the surface and then ran out of steam. Answer after answer poured out of the Biddy Crew Finally, one morning, a lady at the next table proudly announced that one of our local pharmacists had purchased the land and was building seniors housing on it. Duplexes, with double garages.. In the stunned silence that followed, on of the other old ladies, usually a heavy hitter in the gossip game, pursed her lips and announced, “I know,” in an attempt to trump her friend. The conversation rolled onto other topics. One winner, and a room full of losers.

On Thursday morning – yesterday – a school bus rolled into the parking lot at about two minutes to ten, and spilled out a load of sleepy teens. The Biddy Crew instantly began to chatter in an annoyed cacophony. “What’s a School Bus doing in the parking lot? There’s no room for it here! Someone should go out and tell him to move…and what are these kids doing here? The day has hardly begun at school and these kids are coming in here for coffee! Don’t they ever do anything in school? It’s not even Friday!”

Out of the milling crowd a woman in jeans and a cap emerged. She was much younger than the Biddy Crew, and somewhat older than the kids. Turned out, she was their teacher. She explained quietly, to the whole table that the kids were on a field trip to a goat and cheese farm, to learn where their food came from. It was part of their nutrition course. The teacher explained that some of the class had “chosen” to stay home rather than come, and as a reward to the attendees, she was buying them all coffee!

The silence was stunned and prolonged. In an instant, the wise teacher had take her kids and the bus driver out of the firing line, and shut down the Biddy Crew completely! I was laughing so hard into my sleeve that I had to leave the table. A whole morning’s gossip and complaining about ‘youth today’ was blown away in a second!

Going to Tim’s in the morning is such fun! I usually take a book, sit by myself and read…and listen. Now and then…like yesterday… I join a table and listen, throwing in the odd comment to egg on the speculation. Who needs TV? Who needs a job? This is entertainment at its best in small town Alberta!