Freedom

by Bev. Cumming

“For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”

― Nelson Mandela

I have heard enough about the confusing arguments of individual rights of Canadians.  In fact, I felt obliged to investigate just what these rights are.  It is all there in the “An Act for the Recognition and Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms”.  I could find nothing that entitles people to gather together with the intent to threaten and impede the lives of others.  

Most of us watched, I watched, in disbelief as a small group of radical “truckers” and other malcontents converged on our national capital.  This protest has done little to reveal an ideology or plan to rally around other than a supposed cry for “freedom”.  Meanwhile, thousands of people in central Ottawa have been held hostage and have had their Freedom taken away. Other demonstrations have occurred in different parts of the country, but this has gone beyond a “peaceful” protest and has become a siege against our Government and the citizens of Ottawa.

The concept of Freedom does not mean we have the right to do what we want no matter what the rest (the majority) see as the right thing to do. There has been much debate about the ideas of Personal Rights vs the Common Good throughout the Pandemic and I know where I stand. The need for a vaccinated population seems to have initiated the protests by a small segment of citizens.  However, one suspects there is something more sinister brewing.   The appearance of more and more agitators who have their own agenda, ample funding, and encouragement from outside the country are adding to the problems.  

When our democracy is threatened, political rhetoric doesn’t work with those who see themselves as disenfranchised. Our government(s) has been unable or reluctant to act quickly and decisively because they are hampered somewhat by the Constitution and the Charter of Rights. The politicians have been caught up in a game of political butt - covering and finger - pointing and we have suffered through a quagmire of leadership inaction.  Finally, our Government has now taken a firm stand with significant consequences in order to deescalate the danger and clear out the interlopers.  

“Freedom” is the mantra, but it is inconceivable to me how Canada (in the top ten of free countries in the world ) could be defiled in this way.  When it all becomes too much and the agony of watching the endless newsfeeds threatens to drive you crazy, there is something you can try.  Grab a cushion, put it over your face and scream into it.  It might help!

Extremism in the Defence of Liberty 

by Bill Kurtze

Extremism in the defence of liberty is no vice. 

These words were first delivered by US Senator Barry Goldwater in accepting the  1964 Republican Presidential nomination. At the time, the sentence and the  candidate were largely discredited. Today the emotions encompassing that  sentence are increasingly reflective of the views of a growing number of people -  witness the COVID/ Freedom Truck Rally.  

I support that some problems must be opposed using violent measures, but  believe that violence should only be used as a last resort. I also know that some  problems, even the gravest of injustices, and the most ambitious of principles,  require moderation. I dare to believe that most of the time, nonviolent means are  pragmatically most effective in reaching just ends.  

As to liberty, it has, for me, never meant that the only consideration is how  something affects me personally. If I choose to live in a society, then the  privileges I gain from living with others must be balanced against my  responsibilities to that society. Such includes my responsibility to act in an  informed and rational manner. If you make your decisions based on fear and  rooted in a lack of factual information, then it is hard for that society to have any  real freedom. 

If my actions infringe on the rights of others then it may be necessary to sacrifice  some of my freedom and that’s where the problems begin. Who says who  sacrifices how much? In a democracy, the answer must lie within the system of  governance that the people have chosen including any duly elected officials  selected to implement their laws. 

True freedom requires that individuals do not trample the rights of others. When  actions needlessly place others at risk, then those actions stop being an  exercise in personal freedom and become a selfish infringement on the rights of  others. If I decide that it is my right to help myself to the property of others, then  is holding me accountable for theft an infringement of my rights? No rational  person would say yes to that because the rights of others to property and safety  are an accepted part of our social contract.  

How does this relate to COVID-19 and how we prioritize the options open to  government to maximize the physical, mental, social and economic benefits to 

all its citizens? After two years of restrictions, Canadians are COVID weary and  want things to return to normal. While very few if anyone would disagree with  that, the real questions relate to how, when and under what circumstances. For  me, the answers lie, in part, in the decisions and actions we have taken to date.  

Science has gotten us over the worst of it. Our health system, although  spasmodically on the brink of collapse, has done an incredible job of caring for  the nation. The people who have gotten vaccinated and religiously self isolate  have gotten us to a point where we are now beginning to see our new normal.  Governments, for their part, have managed the pandemic without benefit of  hindsight and within a tolerable framework of restrictions and financial  assistance programs. 

We know what we have to do now. All we have to do is continue to do it. As for governments, perhaps it is now time for them to begin formulating a cogent  strategy on appropriate next steps as we move from a pandemic to an endemic  existence.

Wud U Say? 

by Dorothy Dyer

Do you ever roll your eyes when someone uses one of ‘those’ words. ‘Those’ are the over used  words and expressions which when first applied to the situation were amazingly accurate,  specific and appropriate. They caught the ear for being novel but now are trite, misapplied and  sometimes meaningless.  

For example, pivot. When the first wave of the pandemic hit, successful businesses were  learning to pivot. Restaurants started or expanded their takeout. Gyms put exercise routines on  line. Curb side pickup was offered. Pivoting was clever and necessary.  

But now everyone is pivoting. You don’t change your mind anymore. You pivot. You don’t alter  your plans either. You pivot. There’s even a new television show called Pivoting. Do ballerinas  still pirouette or are they pivoting as well?  

Oh well, it is what it is. Speaking suchly, my next pet peeve. What does that really mean? “It is  what it is.” Acceptance. Disregard. Tedium. When I am in a full chorus of complaining and  someone says, “It is what it is,” what are they trying to tell me? It is one of those expressions  that makes perfect sense without really saying anything. All I know is the topic has ended.  

We use so many empty words in our conversations. Awesome used to mean a striking sunset  or the snowy Rockies against a chinook sky. Now arranging a compatible coffee time has  reached that pinnacle of wonder. Totally.  

Just as with trendy fashion, there is trendy language. Use the right expression and you will be  seen as with it and perhaps even youthful. In my younger years, things were ‘rad’ and ‘far out’,  terms now laughable. Watch a movie from another decade and see how many expressions  jump off the screen like corded phones. Speaking of which…. 

Ever watched a good fillum? I guess as long as we hit the general area of consonants and  vowels, we’re good. My son recommended a streamed series to me, The Wire. I tried several  times to watch it including with closed captions. Couldn’t understand a thing! I think it was in  English but the slang and the slurry voices were uncodable. Even lip reading attempts did not  work.  

Maybe all of this is why we lose our hearing as we age. The assault on our ears of crucified  language is too much to bear. Did I mention I used to teach English? My ears are attuned to  errors. I try not to be too judgy. Judgy, the modern replacement word for judgmental, probably  because of texting. Oh! And texting! That’s a whole other blog. 

Zup? Ax me lader. Gotta jump. So TTYL. 

I Admit It, I Am Getting Old

by Pat Pitsel

I admit it. I am getting old. There are signs.

“And what are those signs?” you ask ( wondering if you too might be moving toward that final curtain call.)

Here is what I have noticed about myself:

1. I wonder out loud (even though I am alone in my suite watching football) Do their mothers’ know they aren’t wearing sleeves and it‘s minus 2 in Lambeau field and you can see their breath?

2: I had to google “Lets go Brandon” to find out what it means.

3. I am not planning on watching the halftime show at the Super Bowl because whatever they are doing, it’s not music.

4. I find myself caring less and less if other people like what I am wearing.

5. Old People are supposed to like little kids. Unless they are in your gene pool, that’s a crock.

6. If I find a conversation very boring, I get up and leave.

7. After the third time asking someone to repeat themselves, I give up, smile, nod, and agree.

8. If a show comes on after 9:00 pm it gets taped.

9. When I was young I use to say “bullshit” and people would think I was rude and low class. Now they think I’m perky.

10. The next time somebody refers to me as “X years young” they will get whacked.

11. I use to finish every book I ever started (so that I could at least think I got my money’s worth). There is not enough time left to read all the books on my Kobo, so why would I waste any of those precious minutes plowing through something I don’t like?

12. If others still believe stupid things by the time they are 80, there is not a hope in hell you can get them to change their mind.

13. Things I do not discuss in a Seniors’ Residence: politics, religion, and diversity.

14. If someone asks one more time “what’s trump?” I should not be held responsible for the carnage that ensues.

15. When someone kindly asks, “Can I help with that?” I let them help.

How I Became a Canadian

By Mactwachle

It was all very simple really. I came from an upper middle class Scottish family with no shortage of funds. I came with a fellow Occupational Therapist to Canada en route to exploring more of the world. We first arrived in Toronto in February or March of 1966, having sailed across the ocean on a freighter that took a few passengers, among whom were my parents. My mother could not abide the idea of not knowing exactly where I was going to be.  

I came with a letter of recommendation but no job. In Toronto I scored 3 interviews. The third one clinched it. At the end of my interview (nothing like  today’s barbequeings), the Scottish Physiotherapist, my future boss, said to me  “Tell your Dad that Jack Barr’s daughter says Hello” I was amazed. It turned out her father and uncle had got their start up money for their successful pub, from my father who was the managing director of the family brewery. The British  ‘village’ had stretched across the pond. 

So, I found life in Canada incredibly easy. Late opening stores on a Thursday  evening. Yorkdale, the first shopping mall I had ever seen. A relaxed attitude to  the different uniform I now wore. My friend connected with a second hand Beetle through her job for Workman’s Compensation in Downsview. She drove to work & I caught the bus & train to Bloor street. We had dodged the worst of Canada’s winter. Spring came and went in a blink. Our apartment was warm and draft free, rent was reasonable, the wringer washer - wow, a wringer  washer - across the hall in our basement suite. When the car needed repairs, a complimentary car was supplied and the two german mechanics invited themselves to our apartment for a beer. These were earth shattering events. This was nothing like the stuffy U.K. I recall being stunned when my fellow staff, boss included, fought over the last doughnut in the box. Across the pond, that doughnut would have been left till hell froze. I worked with an assistant who disliked me and didn’t hesitate to show it. I was amazed. I realized the class system via identifiable speech, simply could not exist. It was most refreshing and liberating. She was Lithuanian. She may have had a PhD I.Q. Resentment would have been quite reasonable.  

We connected with the Y. and took dingy sailing lessons in the harbour. We  also got to go canoeing all summer to Algonquin park. With the Beetle, we explored the Finger Lakes NYS. In Fall, we drove further north to see the colours. There was almost a burned down cabin in Chicoutimi. Who knew wood could get so dry! 

In my previous job the assistant always brought me Nescafe and hot buttered  toast, and could not be talked out of it. The class system is maintained from both directions. She lived very near where I lived, but we never became friends.  Five of us squeezed into a semi detached house with a lean-to kitchen, bathroom above, a larder outside the back door, no fridge. Water initially was heated by lighting the coal fire in what had once been the kitchen and was now our living/dining room. Shopping for supper was a nightly stampede to get to the shops before they closed at 6:00pm. Supermarkets had not yet arrived.  

It took me very little time to realize that I could not return to Scotland to live. No  more putting up with generally appalling service. Practically every function of  service moved at glacial speed, and at New Year came to a full stop. The  efficiency, speed and conscientious service that permeated everything in Canada was wonderful. The super convenience of a courtesy car. Fuses that were merely flipping a switch, in lieu of loading a fuse with wire ever thicker and risking a fire Having a shower instead of a bath and more of them. It was just so much easier than being in constant survival mode with a low paycheque to match.

I had to learn a new vocabulary. I had a hard time calling a flex for a kettle a  cord- something I tied my dressing gown with (even today my granddaughter tells me it should be a robe!) And what was that strange thing my fellow therapist referred to - a meer ? It took me days to deduce it was a mirror which I pronounced with all my r’s rolling! Sidewalks, faucets, closets, chesterfields, the list was long- but one picked it up, along with an accent. On visits home the accent would fall away, but I’d be asked to say something Canadian.  

So fast forward to 1974. I was now living in Calgary, married to a Canadian, and  with a baby daughter riding in her umbroller. I decided to investigate becoming  a citizen. I went into the Office of Citizenship and despite the fact that I had  never personally met the Queen, I came out of there a citizen. I still knew almost  no Canadian history and thought it unfair on all those immigrants who swotted up to become citizens, that I should become so suddenly and instantly a Canadian. Unlike many others, I gave up my British passport. I felt allegiance should be to one place at a time. 

We had created a surrogate family, one couple like us was Anglo/ Canadian, and the other couple was pure British. We became honorary Aunts and Uncles and Christmases were spent at each other’s houses. They moved to the Okanagan after retirement, but we do still keep up.  

I have enjoyed my life here. I learned to give far more of myself to my job than I  ever imagined when I trained. No one in Scotland was hugging at that time. We  were all Miss This and Mrs That including our patients. I loved that I could see  mountains. I loved when I arrived to find grass and tree seedlings growing in the cracks in the sidewalks. When you stood on that bridge that took you, all covered, from the Bay Parkade to the Bay, there was a green hill both east and west. It isn’t any more, but it was like that when I arrived. I met my future  husband almost right away, and after my friend lost her life in an avalanche, our  relationship was sealed.  

Many things have happened since, divorce being one of them, but I have never  regretted becoming a Canadian and raising two Canadian children. I like the  honesty with which feelings and behaviours can be discussed. I don’t miss the  class system. Yes, there is a hierarchy but it is different. I still feel I have a life of  luxury. I am certainly, to quote Tom Wolfe, a “mid Atlantic” woman but I am  luckier than the Queen!

A Reflection: Current News about Civil War in Libya Prompted Memories from 1966

By Kathy Newman

I am glad that I visited Tripoli, Libya with its beautiful beaches on the Southern Coast of the Mediterranean in 1966. The opportunity to travel there now as a tourist just doesn’t exist as Civil War has closed its borders to foreign travelers. Libya is struggling to find leadership and a form of government that will lead its people out of poverty and restore trust. Armed rebellion in 2011 brought the downfall of the tyrannical power of Muammar Ghaddafi but left the field wide open for others seeking power and privilege.

I travelled to Libya with my mom and brother to visit my father who was working in the Libyan Desert Oil Fields as a Drilling Supervisor for two years. Libya is one of the top ten producers of petroleum in the world but without strong political leadership, the economy is beneficial to the few rather than the many.

Why does change take such a long time? In 1966, we witnessed the poverty of the people and over fifty years later, that poverty still exists! We saw people camped in corrugated cardboard and tin shacks outside the prison wall; apparently there to pass food to relatives on the inside. They sat around campfires in the evening, drinking Maghrebi mint tea, a spicy, thick tea made with spearmint leaves and added sugar. At least they had others to share their misery.

I wondered about the long line of trucks, waiting to deposit their tomato laden cargos at the factory but having to wait so long that their tomatoes were rotting in the sun. I wondered if the vendors in the market made enough income to support their families and I wondered about the safety of the parents of our beach buddies, friends that we met while swimming in the Mediterranean. They were Jewish but of Italian descent and living in an Arabic country. Letters were exchanged when I first returned to Canada, but nothing arrived in the mail after the 7-Day War in 1967. Dad was in the desert, but he saw the aftermath of the Arab assault on the stores of the Jewish merchants in downtown Tripoli. Had our friends survived? They were awesome companions at the beach even though we didn’t speak each other’s language. We were all teenagers out for a good time. I did end up having a brief conversation with one of the girls when I said hello in French, one day. She looked at me in amazement and replied in French. A simple…only limited by my grasp of French…. conversation took place but it was special!

Dad came in from the desert as often as he could to drive us to the sites of ancient, Roman ruins along the coast, East of Tripoli and to Gharyan or Green Mountain where potters, goat herders, and olive farmers still lived in caves. I didn’t get to go inside their homes but now I can look at YouTube videos showing the intricacies of these caves that provided shelter both from the 45-degree heat of the sun and the cold rains of the winter. If only tourists were allowed back into Libya, the tea rooms and beautiful earthen ware pottery plus the incredible history of Nomadic, Roman, Italian, British and French occupancy of this African country would help to diversify the economy which currently relies too heavily on the oil industry.

I realize now that my Tripoli vacation in 1966 is one that others may never have a chance to experience but I hope that this will change.

Reflections on China

by Bev Cumming

With Chinese New Year a short time away and with all the news and controversy revolving around China, and the upcoming Olympics in Beijing, I have been thinking about our trip to China.  Along with our travel buddies our interest was piqued to travel to China in the Fall of 2018. It was hard to resist the very “cheap” offer of an all- inclusive experience, including airfare. So off we went across the Pacific, 15 days on a bus, 2 internal flights, and a Yangtze River cruise and I was left with the following impression:

A SLEEPING DRAGON

The Sleeping Dragon in the throws of wakefulness stirs, stretches, and  shakes off what came before. With consciousness, the past is a fuzzy dream.   Distant villages for the old – Megacities for the young who search for something better. The old ways being replaced . . .

          Rice paddies by wind farms,

          Calligraphy by Smart phones,

          Rickshaws by motorbikes,

          Sampans by cruise ships,

          Silk robes by high couture,                                              

          Soldiers by tourists,

          Humble homes by high rises,

          Footpaths by paved highways,

          Fishing poles by brief cases,

          And on and on and on . . .

Amazing ancient achievements  are enjoyed by visitors with their welcome “ yuan “. Crowds mingle at a Tea plantation, a Pearl factory, a Silk and Embroidery Centre, a School of Chinese Medicine. Then, finally, at the Dragon’s scaly back – The Great Wall! Still a powerful reminder of what can be achieved if the will is strong. 

The Sleeping Dragon, awake now, wings fully spread is a force that cannot be ignored. 

As the world struggles through the devastation of this Pandemic, instead of global cooperation, there is increased tension among the more powerful nations. In this new Year of the Tiger, China’s economic and military power is intimidating the Western World. However, as much as we were amazed by the construction and technology, our true awe was for warmth of our hosts and guides, and the history and culture that we encountered. It was all a great life experience and we learned a lot – as my husband remarked, “Now we know what they call Chinese food in China – FOOD! “

Gong hei fat choy(恭喜发财)

The Elderly Man Turned and Smiled

by Kathy Newman

Two hours of walking Alice, the Aussiedoodle and then, Gordon, the Westie, left me in need of a cup of hot peppermint tea, a cozy chair and a good story.  However, as soon as I gave in to that cozy chair, my osteoarthritis told me to get up and move again.

So, I comply and stand up to practice the F Key chords on my new ukulele. Barry Luft, the incredible Duke of the Uke, is my instructor and said that playing the ukulele will take one’s mind off aches, pains and worries and he is right! Learning new chords while singing familiar songs is completely absorbing and much better than Absorbine Junior for my aging, physical education teacher joints.

Keep moving and keep thinking while having fun seemed to be the motto of the Skyline Hikers too.  When I was a fit forty -year -old, Marquita, my teaching partner and I challenged ourselves to a week of mountain hiking with the Skyline group.  Half-way through the week of daily excursions, I learned an important lesson when the elderly man ahead of me on the  muddy, slippery trail stopped, turned and smiled at me.  Out of breath, I stopped too and whispered, “I am glad that you stopped. Uphill in mud is hard work and I need to catch my breath.”

His response was one that I will never forget, “Oh, I just thought that I had better let my pacemaker catch up!” He was in his eighties and still loved hiking in the mountains even though he had undergone heart surgery!

Evening campfires were part of the mountain hiking fun too as stories were told and songs were sung.  At the end of our fresh air week, our oldest hiker at 95 years young, gave this announcement: “This will be my last Skyline Hike.  Next summer, I am joining the Elder Hostel group as they sleep in real beds at night.  Camping on the hard ground, even with a good foamy just isn’t working for these old bones.”

Another lesson well learned.  When physical limitations interfere with past fun, then find a new solution but don’t stop moving!  Turn your life around and Smile! Dogs are relentless task masters so I walk and tea will have to wait!!

Photo: Skyline Hikers

Christmas Blog

by MacTwachle

Well - Christmas can be a very stressful time for many of us - so here are some mood lifting suggestions. Things that I like to do, and probably you have your own. I no longer bake a Christmas cake or Plum pudding, but when I did, it was always on November the 11th. For the occasion I had a favourite record of Baroque Christmas music. It kept me company while I stirred and mixed and the house filled with amazing aromas - it made me feel very Christmassy!

So Tip# 1...is bake (or buy something to ready to bake)- pop it in the Oven…. make a fragrant cooking smell anyhow.

#2 Turn on YOUR favourite MUSIC - very good for the whole brain!

#3 Make sure you can watch a favourite Christmas show like Charlie Brown’s Christmas, incidentally the Vince Guaraldi music is spot on for jazz lovers. Or Alastair Sim’s Scrooge -he’s great, even if tiny Tim is too precious for words! Well -You chose YOUR favourite.

#4 Reread a favourite book.

#5 Make a Phone call to someone you have not talked to for a long long time - it is cheaper than sending them flowers and you’ll both enjoy it more- If you can FaceTime - so much the better.

#6 If you are vaccinated, have the funds and like the ballet The Alberta Ballet’s Nutcracker is the place for you.

#7 Weather & Health permitting on Christmas Day, should you find yourself idle and alone [or not], Go for a walk and Merry ( Bloomin’) Christmas Everyone you meet.

#8 - Now I have never done this - but I hear serving food at any of the assorted charitable places like Cups, Mustard Seed, Drop-in Centre - Well -to be honest -in covid times I am uncertain how this is being managed - but if it is a viable thing, I gather it will warm the cockles of your heart!

#9 Speaking of Cockles -eat some of your favourite foods - I love shellfish, also chocolate although I munch that x 365. There has to be a gastronomic treat you seldom have. Go for it!

#10 This is the time of year when I correspond with all those people, I never see any more, as there is a deal of water and /or land between us and they usually reply- so reading their news - can bring good feelings and make you feel connected. Thanks to a friend who set it up, I have been Zooming with former college friends in my home country - I think our post Christmas Zoom will be an interesting affair.

#10 New Year … well - I don’t hold with Resolutions … BUT my idea of a Resolution is to plan on making something- in my case mostly Baking... but whatever it is- It has to be something you have never done before, but always wanted to. No self improvement, no negative thing - It has to be something positive. It should be achievable and FUN. So far, my previous Resolutions have been Bread, Cheesecake, Cinnamon rolls, and Coffee cake. I achieved them all in the given Years- not many considering my sojourn on earth… never mind. Since I joined the Writer’s group - I think the writing of a Legacy Letter to my Granddaughter will make a splendid New Year’s Resolution and I think I will enjoy it - maybe with a Cinnamon roll thrown in!

I Wish You all the Best of Seasons!

Revisiting Einstein

By Anita Goodman  

In my university studies differentiating between quantitative and qualitative data was  imperative. If you could measure it then your argument was stronger than if you gathered  perceptions or feelings about something. We used to talk about hard facts and soft  impressions, the latter being considered generally unreliable. I have always leaned towards  empiricism, the better you can measure something, the more accurate or truthful it is.  

In retirement having more time on my hands, I have had to reconsider this belief. And ‘having  time on my hands’ is exactly what I am talking about. As a school teacher, I was wired to know  that the recess bell rang at 10:04 a.m. when I would be on supervision or I had 16 minutes of  instruction to complete before I could go to the bathroom. My sense of time was precise,  measurable and highly accurate. My bladder was trained to the minute. No question, time was  quantitative.  

Now, time is measured quite differently. Time is untrustworthy for some time vanishes and  other time drags. It depends how I feel about it. For example, enduring two hours of Mahjong  on an uncomfortable chair feels like eternity. And, the five minutes it should take to get out the  door for errands is never enough. I am late more often now than I have ever been. My tolerance  for hard chairs is nil.  

No one has ever liked tv commercials and now that we can ‘zip’ through them most people do  not watch them. Remember when we knew exactly how long the ads were and could get to the  bathroom, the fridge and back before the show resumed. Now, if we don’t fast forward we can  always rewind if the snack took too long to prepare. Maybe that’s where my problem with time  

started. My brain is no longer trained to think in 3 and 1/2 minute cycles and that loss has  transferred to all of my life.  

Timing a big dinner? I used to be an orchestral master, everything arriving at the table hot and  cooked to perfection. Now, there’s a chance the potatoes might be an appetizer and the roast  beef, dessert.  

Alas, time management used to mean getting more done with less time. Now I have more time  to get less done and I am very good at it. Cleaning a room is inefficient. I get lost in a box of old  photos or polishing a mirror to perfection when it really doesn’t matter.  

Einstein was fascinated by time stating that his happiest moment was when he realized time  was not absolute. Time can be changed by speed and mass. His space/time relativity theory is  not easy to grasp but it reassures me that time is not as quantitative as I once thought it was. That leaves me with the satisfying conclusion that time is about quality. While I feel I have more  time on my hands, I have more years behind me than ahead. I may not be able to put more  quantitative hours in my day nor days in my years but I can put more quality into the time I  have. And if I am always a little late or my house is never quite cleaned, that’s ok.