The play's the thing…I hope!

Well, it’s April 16 today, ten days since I last wrote. In some ways, things have gone downhill since then. My shoulder got worse, and I began to notice similar problems in my right arm. That shoulder I injured over a decade ago when I slipped and fell on sloped ice in Banff. Severed the rotator cuff tendon. It had to be stapled together. And now the left one is very sore. The physio tells me I have strained the left rotator cuff. No arm swimming for at least two weeks, perhaps a month. Solution? Snorkel mask and leg kicks only. If only I can learn how to assemble the mask and breathing tube. THAT kind of stupidity doesn’t happen when you are twenty-two years old either! Again…the joys of aging!

Political life has picked up speed. With a Provincial election of May 5, and a government sinking in popularity each day because of the high-flying Premier’s awkward statements, it’s getting interesting. I am sticking New Democrat sights beside every community mailbox, and have had one election sign stolen from y lawn. The same thing has happened in other parts of town as well. I think such behaviour is against the law, but I have to check to be sure. I know that defacing signs is illegal, and carries a fine.

Of course, this situation has prompted me to think of ways to exploit it for political gain! One way I thought of is through sardonic humour. Apparently, when I use this sort of thing in letters and columns, it gets some positive response. So here is the “Letter to the Editor” I have drafted for submission later in the week:

Dear Editor;

Recently my “DOUG HART” election sign was stolen off my lawn in the dark of night. I understand a similar thing is happening in other parts of Ponoka.

I wondered if they have been taken by disillusioned and frustrated members of other parties, embarrassed over their own candidates, or by their party’s election promises. Perhaps they wish to support Doug in a surreptitious manner, as well as obtain a keepsake of his campaign.

It would be so much easier if they just called me to ask for a sign. I would gladly deliver and mount the sign in the light of day, thus saving them both blame and embarrassment.

James Strachan

I giggle even as I read it, because although it is a preposterous idea, it will make some people smile, and will let the thieves know, if they should read the paper, that their actions have been interpreted in a manner to make them look stupid. And if none of this is true, at least it makes me smile, which is almost enough!

Until I can figure out how to assemble my snorkeling mask, I will be walking in the morning. Yesterday, as I walked, I figured out three places to strategically place election signs. I set them out last evening. Today, I even got to sign a few checks for the Party, thus felling like an Important Cog in a very minor wheel!

The weekend is almost upon us, and it is one of those weekends where I am responsible for worship in a nearby town, and committed to attending two dramatic presentations. One is a one-woman show at the Canadian Legion (my spouse’s choice, the other a High School presentation of Dracula. Supporting amateur theatre is fun, but sometime wearying. More in a few days, with reviews of the stage presentations included.

Happy Easter…or Eostre!

Yesterday was Easter in North America. For some, it is a religious holiday, marking the Christian belief that Jesus was raised from death by God and spent time among his followers demonstrating that he truly was the “Christ” – the anointed one of God. Of course, for many more people, Easter is simply another long weekend… a four day long weekend. A bit early in the Canadian season for outdoor camping, but not for family gatherings, drinking parties and general relaxing. On my morning walks, I note that there are usually one or two cars left overnight in the Boston Pizza parking lot, their drivers having been obliged to take a cab home because they were unable to drive because they were drunk. On Friday morning – Good Friday, remember – there were nine cars in the lot! Thursday: eve of a long weekend; big drinking night!

Many Churches in North America have a special time of worship on Good Friday, as I mentioned previously. Many also have a vigil over night on Saturday, ending on Sunday morning with the lighting of the “new fire” to symbolize the return of ‘light’ to the world symbolically in Christ. The ‘new fire’ is usually a large metal bowl, which, when ignited, bursts into a leaping tower of flame, before settling down to, well…burn.

Easter worship in most Churches, both Protestant and Roman Catholic, focuses on the belief in resurrection, the return of new life through Jesus, the Christ (the Greek word for Messiah). Now and then there are some amusing mistakes made.

Most of you are probably aware of the cultural tradition here (and elsewhere, I assume) of celebrating Easter with the Easter bunny, often made of chocolate, and lavishly distributed to children (and adults who love chocolate!) The candy maker and the card companies foster this practice, of course. Easter cards abound, and sweets of all kinds are shamelessly marketed to children. Everyone has a great time with all this!

Not many realize that this practice bears a direct relationship to the worship of an old, pre-Christian Goddess, Eostre, the great Mother Goddess of the Saxon people! You will have seen “eostre” before, in words like “estrogen,” a feminine hormone. Doing the Easter egg and bunny thing is a delightful way of reaching back in time to our north European ancestors, and worshipping the Great Mother’s ability to bring new life into the world in spring! Very pagan!

What gives me a giggle is the practice of a local conservative Protestant congregation. These folk are extremely narrow in view, condemning all kinds of cultural practices as pagan and evil. In complete ignorance (I am assuming), they hold a huge Easter egg hunt for children on the Saturday of Easter weekend! I have been tempted to write to their pastor, or better, one of their elders, with information about the origin of their children’s party, just to hear the squeals of horror that would ensue.

A word about recovery: I have been doing quite well with the swimming, and not bad with walking. My knees protest a little more these days when I walk. Do you think they are aware that I’ve had another birthday? The swimming is currently being interrupted by an annoying occurrence in the water last week. As I was plowing along in the water, I felt a twinge in my left bicep, which faded as I swam. When I was done, and cleaned up, I noticed that my upper left arm was a bit sore. “Pulled muscle,” I thought. I swam the next day as well, another kilometer. This time, it felt much worse, and afterward was really sore.

The soreness continued and spread until by the weekend, the whole upper arm and shoulder were more than tender, and hurt sharply whenever I tried to put on a coat, or even swing my arm as I walked. By now, the constant pain though my shoulder and arm is tiring, and makes it difficult to find a comfortable way to sleep. I still think ‘pulled muscle’ with affected other parts. I have an appointment with a Physiotherapist on Wednesday, so I can have it checked out, but it seems wise to not swim again until after I have a diagnosis and treatment plan.

The first thing I think of is, “This doesn’t happen when you are twenty two…only when you are eighty!” Sigh…the wonders of aging. I’ll let you know what comes of all this. Until then, my knees will get more work, my arm, less.

We call this Friday "Good"…

It’s “Good Friday.” For those of you who may not be familiar with the Christian story, let me explain. This is the day that some Christians use to mark the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth, near Jerusalem. Much harder to explain why the day is called “GOOD Friday.” I won’t even try to do that. If you want to know, you could send me a question…or, more simply, “Google it!”

Worship on Good Friday always sends my mind into reflections on crucifixion in our world; who gets crucified, and by whom. This morning, the Pastor (my spouse), mentioned Syria in this context. The country, and its people are being crucified. Thousands of women and children who are not combatants. We cluck over the situation, but we appear to be unable or unwilling to do anything about it. Some people say, “Why would God allow such a thing to happen?” To which I would say, “Really? Is it God who is allowing this? Or is it us, our country and others who stand by and watch without looking for a way to intervene and put an end to it?” It’s so convenient to blame God for the existence of atrocious events, rather than owning up to the human causes of such travesties.

So, this morning, I found myself reflecting on the world I live in. It’s so comfortable for me and those like me. And it’s possible to keep all my attention on myself and my “recovery” from illness, and forget that millions have no such luxury. Life, the world, their enemies fall on them like a load of bricks, which shatters their lives. That does not make a Friday “Good.” Friday, the Holy Day for Muslims, so many of which are Syrians.

I notice that some commentators fulminate over the slaughter of Syrian Christians – which is happening. We seem to be able to care about those we can claim as “our own” than for those who are “other.” In Canada we find it easy to set to one side the hundreds of Aboriginal women who are missing or have been murdered because they are “them,” rather than our sisters, daughters and mothers.

This afternoon, the mainline churches of our little town participated in an event called “The Walk of the Cross.” A large women cross, constructed 20 years ago from a farmer’s tree, is walked through the centre of town, carried by this person, and then that person. We stop fourteen times (the tradition is that there are fourteen stations of the cross in Catholic faith). We stopped at the MP’s office (I’m biting my cheek here…), at a bank, the courthouse, the cenotaph in a park, etc. Short scripture and meditation, a moment of contemplation, and then we move on. It didn’t snow or rain today, and it was just above freezing, so it was, at worst, uncomfortable.

I got to read and meditate at the courthouse. I shared with people that “courthouse” reminds of two words: “judgment”…and “”conviction.” Each word has two meanings. A judgment can be made against you…or you can exercise good judgment in your living. A “conviction” can be given you, which demands that you pay, or a “conviction” can be something that guides your living. I’m glad I went. There were a lot of young people there, some of them new Filipino immigrants. Three early-teen girls carried the cross for block or two, housewives did the same, as well as many of the men, two or three after each station. I hadn’t planned on going, but Beatrix needed some help, so I “volunteered.” I’m glad I went. More on Easter Sunday.