Up with teachers!

Been a hectic two days. Spent one of them reading the online Journal of a young woman, wife of a friend, who is in the final stages of a year long battle with Leukemia. Exhausting to read, and I can't imagine how exhausting to live. More about that another day.

Last evening I happened to be listening to a phone in radio program about the Education component of our province's latest budget, delivered yesterday. Inevitably, the talk turned to teachers, and what a spoiled, overpaid, under worked lot they are. Some of the views were strong on opinion, and very short on accurate information.

My ex-wife was a teacher, and my son is a teacher. Both of them were/are typical of the teachers that I know: committed, passionate and hard-working to the point of over-achievement. I'm sure there are teachers in any system who"come at nine, leave at three." But I've only met one, and he's not in any way typical.

My son, for example, would not be free of school in summer until the middle of July, when all his year-end paperwork was done. He was back in the building August 15 to start preparing September classes. Some spring times, he developed pneumonia because of the exhaustion he was experiencing. People who bitch about teachers have never followed one for a day. Try it…you won't like it, and you'll be glad when it's finally over, when the last paper is marked at 9:50 in the evening.

Teachers aren't perfect, but the last time I looked, neither are their critics, and neither am I…(yet!). So I say, UP WITH TEACHERS! Without them, our kids would never make it in the real world. They would have fewer role models to follow in life, and they wouldn't learn how to learn.

This past week in our local paper, a grade twelve student paid tribute to her Social teachers, who -
she says - helped to bring her up. And one of them is taking a group of grade twelve students to Europe this summer to visit world War One graves. Each student has a soldiers name, and has researched him thoroughly. The grave they visit will be of someone they "know" as best you can, a century later. I ant that teacher, and any other like him to be held in highest esteem, and given lots of respect and support. They do what many parents couldn't do, or wouldn't do. AMEN.

Readers, anyone?

I read a lot. One of the benefits of being "retired…sort of." I pick up a lot of information…most of which I forget quickly. I like it when I have liturgical work to do. Then I can use what I read to write.

I like mysteries - PD James, Ian Rankin, Peter Robinson, Lee Curtis…different styles for different days. I read odd histories, like the expansion of the early church eastward in the second century, or the story of a particularly tricky military situation in the Balkans in the 90's. Theologically, I read Marcus Borg and Dom Crossan, and recently, Diarmid O'Murchu, another brilliant Irishman. I like science as it's presented in Discover magazine, and current Canadian literature as it comes in Walrus. Or Alberta literature and politics (other than Conservative) in Alberta Views.

You can see that I am a privileged man! Only problem is, I live in an area where few people share my reading habits, so I have almost no one to talk to about this stuff. One of my dreams is that some of you (if there are any of you) who read this blog, will sometimes respond to my comments and opinions, or question me. I will enthusiastically respond, like a puppy looking for a treat! And if you read, I'm interested in what you read as well. New ideas of a mind not yet totally dithered, and needing stimulation. Try me!

Coming Home

Almost two and a half years ago, the church of my denomination (United Church of Canada) in the town just north of us was burned to the ground as the handiwork of an arsonist. The pastor is a woman I have known since her teen years. As you can imagine, the congregation was swamped with rage and grief, but undertook a process of restorative justice with the young arsonist. They went through agonizing months of planning, dreaming, and working to rebuild their church home.

In the process, they discovered the generosity of other churches in the town (Wetaskiwin, Alberta). They were invited. and used, nine different venues for worship and programming over the next twenty-two months. The Christians of the community opened their congregational homes to the UCC folk, who never missed a Sunday's worship.

This morning, the congregation held their first service in the new church building. It was a "welcome home" service, which encouraged people to wander the building, leaving messages of support and welcome in each part of the building. The excitement and joy was mixed with tears of sadness and remembrance…and finally relief, that they were at last "home."

I regularly have that feeling when I have been away on business, or even on vacation, and  finally set foot in the place I call "home." Home is made up of a number of factors. There is, of course, the physical space, the place. There is also the people who are there, whose presence makes home real for us. Ruth, the pastor, was both welcom-er and welcom-ee this morning. It was a blessed time, a moving time, a time of reflection and of joy. It was also a time that reminded us that such joy and homecoming can only occur after "home" has been missed, or lost. In this case, coming home followed upon intense pain and loss, and was cathartic for many people who have been part of that congregation for years, even decades.

Look around your home; what would hurt most if it were taken away? How could you replace it? How would you respond to the loss? What would it take for you to recover from that loss? Take a moment to reflect and then to be grateful for the homes that you have in your life: where you live, where you worship, where other loved ones live.

Slothful Saturday

Slow morning. Bummed out to hear that Caterpillar has shut down a plant in London, ON, and moved it to Indiana because the state passed anti-untion laws, and Cat can hired workers for peanuts. Big lift for shareholders, death march for workers.

Apart from that, the sun is shining and I'm off to meet with a wedding couple, planning for a wedding in Aigust 2013. Talk about advance planning!

Shopping today for a three year old. Hard to remember that far back, into another age when my kids were three. Thankn heaven this kid loves reading and books. Always a winner.

This is one of those days when spouse goes one way, and me another. Thank God for Fido phones with free calling between phones. We have to connect somehow before dinner time tonight!

It amazes me that this woman, whom I married just a few months ago, it seems, will be married to me 25 years in October!! We both stand there with our mouths open and say, "Nooooooo, really?" I guess that's good, isn't it. Plans are afoot for the celebration. Just us, but enjoyable.

Well, as my ex-mother-in-law used to say, "More anon…"

Getting Focused

I stare at the screen…mind, a blank. Is it the Friday syndrome? Perhaps it's just that not to much has happened to me in the last twenty-four hours. My life has periods like that: boring. My attention wanders, and I can't even read for a very long time. Angry Birds becomes my challenging limit.

I managed to get my juices flowing last evening by sitting down to write to my MP. He's a smiling and compliant back-bencher, who rises to make scripted comments every once in awhile, mostly for the benefit of the folks at home. They recruited him young - late 30' - and he'll be there for another twenty years, the way our constituency votes. A havk is what he is, a party hack, guaranteed a very fat pension while he votes on "pension reform" for the rest of us. (Pension reform means cutting bck the age for Old Age Supplement from 65 to 67 years. Future plans will cut the Canada Pension Plan benefits.)

Ah, there, the blood is flowing now, and the mind is focused. These days i have no trouble getting exercised aboit politics provincially or federally. I grew ro maturity in a time when compassion and concern for the disadvantaged and youth was much higher on the political agenda than today. Oh, I'm sure the more liberal governments of the past had their share of corruption and self-serving actions. But today's majority in our Commons is narrow minded and mean spirited in the extreme. The concern for those down the ladder is so manifestly NOT there! And it troubles me a lot. I live in a part of the country that benefits BIG TIME from the Tar sands boom, and the only concern is that the rich flow of cash (6 figures for people with very little education) continue. Huge support for pipelines south and west. No apparent awareness of the dangers inherent in passing lines through sensitive wilderness, near prime aquifers.

As you can see, I get passionate. I think the point that helps me get excited is that our leaders appear to care so little what we say, that they don't hear us - well, they don't listen. Anyway, we have a Provincial election upcoming before June, so there should be opportunities to make our voices (my voice) heard.

Weird Winter

This morning, when I ser off on my early AM walk - we're talking 5 AM here - the temoerature was about -8° Celcius, which is perhaps 10 or 12 F. A mild day, by our prairie standards. The whole winter has been really strange…climate change strange. Normally we get a few WEEKS of weather that it sub -30°. That is quite normal. As well, there are usually winter storms - wind with some snow flyong. A few of these are true blizzrds. (To qualify as a blizzard, the wind must be stronger than 40 km per hr, there must be heavy snow falling and blowing virtually horizontally, obstructing vision seriously, and the temperature must be below -4° Celcius.) This year we've had one sn]mall stprm, and a BIT of snow. Many days have been above 0 Celcius, meaning above 32° Fahrenheit. While this pleasant, it is not normal, and makes me wonder what April will bring…or May. Will we have -30° then? Will I need my snowblower fired up to uncover the tulips?

In this rural area, there are quite a number of farm folk who strenuously object to the idea of global warming. They simply refuse to "believe" it - as though it was an act of faith. We jus don't talk about it any more. They simply enjoy the warmth and hope for the best.

If you think that is strange, then you need to take a good look at my outlook. I'm a native of Winnipeg in Manitoba. If you check out a map, you'll find that to be a loooooong way north of Minneapolis. Winnipeg is famous for long and bitter winters. Huge blizzards and crushing cold (-45° C is quite possible two or three times each winter for a day or two.) What is strange about me is that I LOVE this koind of weather! I am all tricked out with an arctice parka, a balaclava face mask, thermal mitts, and big boots. I do my 4 K walk in the morning, no matter what the weather is! I take a kind of manic and perverse joy in braving the elements and NT being subdued by them. Anyone else out there a weather nut? Be in touch.

Vrooom, vrooom!

I live in a land of trucks. The Canadian Oil patch is truck country. My long, suburban block sports 26 three-quarter ton trucks, all with oversized wheels, off-road tires and four wheel drive. Most of them are spotless, never having been driven off any road, anywhere. Trucks are a sign of manliness. I've seen a few with leather sacks hanging off the trailer hitch, containing two large ball-bearings. "This guy has real balls!"

Virtually every truck on my street has 'Command Start.' On winter mornings, this allows the owner to stumble out of bed, start the car with a remote, then have a leisurely shower, dress and eat breakfast before gearing up and get off to work. All the while, the eight cylinder diesel or gas engine is grumbling away in the cold, sending up clouds of exhaust. Some mornings, when I return hoe from my five AM walk in the dark, there are dozen such vehicles pouring out emmisions! My next door neighbor set a record of sorts the other morning: his vehicle idled for 65 minutes before he drove off.

Nearby cities are in the process of implementing idling by-laws. Out here in cow country? Not a chance. I recall when I worked at the Health Sciences Centre in Winnipeg, it was discovered that the poor air quality in one section of the facility was based on the fact that the unloading dock for supply trucks was just below the air intake for the whole building!

In the dear deaddays beyond recall when I ran a dozen miles before breakfast, I recall one morning running along Kenaston Avenue in Winnipeg, a major artery into the west end downtown. The traffic was heavy and the wind was from the west. I was on the east side of the road, and I had to stop moving, and then get away, because I couldn't get enough oxygen to keep running.

I suppose that living in a rural area allows people to think that truck emissions are no big deal, that our air is pure and clean. When you throw in the odor from the cattle auctions down town, and the hog farms to the north of us, you cannot mistake the fact that we live in a land suffocating under air pollution.

I have no idea what to do about this. I wrestle with the option of talking to my neighbour about his truck, or of writing a letter to the Editor of the local paper. That seems pretty feeble, however. I actually have no faith that our town council would give the problem five minutes. Most of them have oil in their blood, and wouldn't see a problem! I imagine folk in every urban centre feels the same way. I wonder how they get their municipal authorities to take the local pollution issue seriously? Perhaps I should start with the car dealers: how long does it actually take for the engine of a Ford F-150 to warm to a safely running temperature at -25°? Would it take 45 minutes for the cab to be warm enough for the driver to work in his shirtsleeves, rather than his parka? Hmmmm. It's a thought.