Bite Me

Image via Wikipedia

Yesterday  I took Flynn the dog for a jog around the North Pelham ball park.   Just after we arrived a car screeched to a stop and the young man inside rolled the window down.

"Do you mind If I let my dog run free? 

He's a Golden. Friendly."

My eyes narrowed.

Golden.Friendly had just about taken my hand off the last time we crossed paths at the park.

The driver must have recognized me at that point because he said nervously, "On second thought I think we'll drive around for a bit."

Which was a good thing.

For him.

I don't have a lot of patience anymore for people who own animals that like to nibble on human flesh.

Years ago I was in a pet shop one Saturday afternoon because, even though I couldn't afford to own one,  I liked to scratch the heads of the parrots.

Heading towards my favourite bird, I set my purse down on the floor to free up my parrot-head-scratching hand and promptly  felt a pain in my ankle.

I lifted my leg.

There was a ferret hanging off my ankle by its teeth.

Now this presented a problem because I didn't know what to say. 

I don't mean that I didn't know what to say to the ferret.

I mean I didn't know how to let the other people in the store know that I had a problem.

For some reason screaming "HELP" seemed more like the kind of action you would take if you were being attacked by a pit bull.    

I was under attack by six inches of fur and it was embarrassing.

On the other hand it hurt.

I surreptitiously shook my leg and glanced around hoping no one had noticed.

People passed by me, chatting and laughing, not realizing the bloodletting and horror unfolding at ground level.

On the embarrassment scale the situation had the potential of being a 10.

Maybe a 10+.

But how, in the middle of a crowded store, does a middle aged school teacher lady get rid of a rodent that is attached to her ankle and retain her dignity?

The answer is that she can't.

In total humiliation I had to hobble to the cash register, dragging the enraged ferret behind me. 

When I was close enough I lifted my leg and shook the ferret at the guy at the cash register.

"CINDY!" he cried in an ecstasy of love. "Oh Cindy! I wondered where you went!"

And then, rather than being all apologetic and letting me take one of the parrots home for free with a giant cage and a lifetime supply of food, he accused ME of putting my purse on poor Cindy's head, thus being the cause of my own misfortune!

I tell you, my friends, there's no justice in this world.

Jeesh.

Remembering Why

This photo is from one of my father's photo albums. 

It is dated 1942 but was likely given to him after the Canadian Army reached the River Maas in 1944 or 1945 by Nelly Verhoeven, the young woman on the left.

"I was billeted in the house of the girl on the left in Holland.

The girl in the centre is dead now. 

She helped 45 allied airmen escape and the Germans caught her."

*

In 1942 it was the Nazis.

Today there are other people with similar intentions.




We mustn't forget.




***

Occupying Niagara

Image via Wikipedia

The Occupy Wall Street movement has come to Niagara.

I wasn't at the meeting but evidently about 70 people showed up at the CAw Hall in St. Catharines and according to the St. Catharines Standard the group hopes to occupy Montebello Park in the city's downtown later this month, (see photo).

If 70 people cared enough to go to the meeting, I'm betting there are at least ten times that many supporters in the area.

I'm not of an age or in a position to occupy anything, but I will be there when I can.

The critics of this world wide, peaceful comment on poverty and corporate greed seem to think that because the  number of occupiers has dwindled and because they do sometimes go home to shower and eat that it is coming to an end.

I don't think so.

I suspect things will simmer for a few months and we'll see a greater push for change in the spring.

Because,

economically speaking,

it promises


to be a long, dark and very grim winter.

Cabled!

"I'd like to set up my account," I said to the woman who was on the other end of the line and who was employed by a cable company that I shall not name.

(As a clever disguise that no one will ever see through,  I will call it Bogeco.)

I went onto explain that I had just purchased a small townhouse and the cost of the cable TV was included in the condo fees.

"No problem," she replied pleasantly and after several minutes we were finished.

"Great," I said.

"Great," she echoed.

"And that will be $4 a month."

"$4 a month?" I was flabbergasted. "But the cost is included in my condo fees!"

"But you need a digital receiver," she said.

"Why do I need a digital receiver?" I asked.

"You need a digital receiver because mijk thell  jse2wm!"

"Well, that sounds reasonable," I said, not wanting to admit that I had no idea what she was talking about, "but are you actually going to send me a bill for $4 a month?"

"Well, you could give us a cheque in advance and we could deduct the cost every month."

"Could I buy my own digital receiver?" I asked.

"Yes. They cost $160".

I decided to think about it.

The next day, figuring that I'd be better off renting a digital receiver because technology changes so quickly,  I called Bogeco back.

Different woman, but we got  it all set up.

"Great," I said.

"Great," she echoed. "That will be $8 a month."

 "Yesterday it was $4," my voice rose, "why is it $8 today?"

"I don't know about yesterday but today the digital receiver is $4 a month and the fjas;jc box is $4. That adds up to $8 a month," she said.

"I know why I need a digital receiver," I lied, "why do I need a fjas;jc box?"

"You need a fjas;jc box because asdk sdf fjslkf  FKS ksifpo30 and because [rou,!"

"Could you explain that to me again?" I asked pitifully.

She hung up on me.

Bogeco must be pretty sure of their customers.

I counted to ten and tried again.

Customer Service Rep 3 was male. 

We went through the process again and he assured me that my TV would work on the day I moved in.

I waited.

"Is there anything else?" he asked.

"What about the cost?" I gritted my teeth.

"Oh it's free," he said.

"FREE?"

I actually thought Bogeco felt bad because one of their Customer Reps had hung up on me and wanted to make amends.

"Yes," he said enthusiastically, pleased to have been the bearer of good news.

"Free for the first year. 

After that it is $9.50 a month."



Jeesh.

I've been cabled.

Zombies Among Us?

Image via Wikipedia

Up until last year I didn't know much about Zombies. 

I knew they were dead people who chased live people but I didn't know why.

So when the movie 'Zombieland' came out and it was billed as a comedy, I talked anther retired teacher into going to see it with me. 

I figured that I would become knowledgeable about the zombie phenomena and have a good laugh at the same time.

Right.

 "I Love Lucy" reruns are funny.

Zombieland is not.

However I did learn why zombies chase humans, (they eat people), so on one weird and sick  level, it could have been classified as a learning experience.

 Not one I intended to repeat.

 However while browsing through Tumblr the other day I happened to see an article that asked whether zombies could ever really exist.

This is where you may want to stop reading.

Still here?

Okay, don't say I didn't warn you.

The science guy whose blog I follow, replied to the question as to whether zombies could ever really exist by saying that while dead bodies cannot be reanimated

it is theoretically possible that one day the rabies virus might jump to a flu virus.

Rabies!

That's the same evil virus that killed Ol' Yeller, my baby boomer friends.

Science Guy went on to explain that if that happened, rabies would start being passed from person to person by coughing, sneezing, etc., just like the regular flu.

Which would lead to many dying, contagious,  violent, brain-inflamed, zombie-like people lurching among us tearing us limb from limb and spreading the new plague.

Jeesh.

Another reason to get the flu shot and avoid raccoons.

Happy Hallowe'en!

Related articles

• Rabies Symptoms In Humans (mademan.com)
• Can the Dead Walk? (aphilosopher.wordpress.com)

Like Father, Like Daughter, Oddly

My father called it good old fashioned Canadian ingenuity.

As a matter of fact, he gave me the impression that Canadian Ingenuity was exactly what won World war II.

Oh sure the Yanks and the Brits had ingenuity but according to Dad, theirs wasn't like real CANADIAN ingenuity.

Recently my brothers and I have had the sad and difficult job of going through Dad's things.

We've marvelled at what he kept.  Like most people who lived through the Great Depression, he never threw anything away.

Nothing was ever too small or too broken that it might not find a use somewhere else. 

Over the years I learned to be careful what I told Dad I needed because Canadian Ingenuity is a double edged sword.

It can also be spelled O-D-D.

For example he didn't understand why someone might not want a dining room chair with one leg refashioned out of an old hockey stick.  

And the oddness of Canadian ingenuity is exactly what I thought I would never embrace. 

I didn't realize how insidious it is.

How it creeps up on a person.

You see, a few days ago I bumped into one of my neighbours when we were out walking our dogs. 

She was wearing the most beautiful pair of rubber rain boots.

"Oh thanks," she said when I told her how nice they looked. "They cost me $100 but they are worth it!"

Up until that moment I had been quite pleased with the ingenious solution that I had found to the problem of being caught in the rain.

So i must tell you, it was with a heavy heart that I looked down at my own feet.

I was standing next to a woman in rubber boots that cost $1oo and I was wearing a pair of unused doggie poo bags over my shoes.

Jeesh. 

I guess I really am my father's daughter.

TheTale of Roland the Cougar

Have you ever wondered what would have happened if you'd done things differently?

I'm not talking about big events like dropping out of high school and taking up a life of crime instead of becoming the lawyer your mom always wanted you to be, I'm talking about little things.

For example, today I decided to take Flynn the dog for a walk in the North Pelham Ball Park but for some reason about half way there I changed my mind. 

I pulled into a driveway , turned around and headed for the Roland Road entrance to Short Hill Provincial Park.

As soon as Flynn got out of the car she went into doggie high alert.

Mindful of our spooky experience in the park a few months ago when I thought we saw Niagara's mysterious and carnivorous big cat, I froze too.

And I must tell you that my blood turned to ice when we heard its cry.

Then I thought about what I had just heard.

"Jeesh," I said to Flynn the dog,  "I expected cougars to sound a bit more ferocious."

Nevertheless, we remained watchful and, indeed, It wasn't long till the beast showed itself.

Flynn rushed in for the kill and was rewarded with a loud purr and face rub.

The little 'cougar' was an unneutered male about 12 months old. 

He was wet, hungry and lonely.

He followed us for quite a way crying the whole time.

Eventually we turned back because I was afraid his meowing would bring a fox or coyote and that would be the end of him.

Or the cougar and that would be the end of us.

Flynn and I rushed home.

I knew I couldn't keep him, having four cats already so I phoned the Humane Society and told them I was going to go back and try to find him.

It wasn't very hard to locate the little fella. 

He was sitting in the rain in the parking lot crying. 

I set down some food and the cat carrier.

The rest of the story is the hard part.

I had to leave 'Roland' the pretend cougar at the Welland Humane Society. 

If you would like to adopt him, the Welland Humane Society is off Prince Charles Drive. It is on the left as you head south to Port Colbourne. Watch for the yellow sign.

You'll know you are close when you see all of the wonderful volunteers out walking the homeless dogs.

Please.

I'd like to think there was a reason I turned around and went to Short Hills today.

Gloutonnement

Image by Getty Images via @daylife

The movement against corporate greed that started on Wall Street in New York City has come to Canada. 

Toronto and Vancouver are both bracing for massive protests on Saturday.

Hmmmm.

 Do we have the right to be criticizing the people at the top? 

The 1%.

The people who control most of the world's wealth.

After all, the guys who run the world's big corporations worked hard to get where they are.

Spent money on an education, spent long hours working their way up.

They deserve what they have. 

Right?

It depends on whether you believe there is anyone on this earth who deserves to be making

$16,826 an hour.

That's  what Michael Duke, the CEO of Wal Mart makes.*

$16,826 an hour.

 So what do you make?

*I found the salary info on Yellow Dog Granny's blog and looked up his salary.  He made $23 million during 2007.  Couldn't find anything more recent but I doubt his income has dropped. Thanks to YDG for doing the math on that one!

Related articles

• Toward a Corporate Greed Index (ask.metafilter.com)
• Hundreds march against 'corporate greed' in New York City (telegraph.co.uk)

Looking For A Green Warrior

Image via Wikipedia

I'm not displeased with the results* of the Ontario election.

I feel most comfortable when one or the other of the old parties is in power with a slight majority and the NDP has enough clout to keep them in line.

It appeals to my quest for balance.

And it works.

Or it did

until the NDP became a little too mainstream.  A little too comfortable in their own skins to be the scrappy fighters they used to be.

 So the Green Party seemed a good place to park my vote.

I like its social justice platform and the federal leader, Elizabeth May, is a dragon slayer.

The problem is that the Provincial Green Party Leader, Mike Schreiner, doesn't come across as someone with a hunger for change.

He looks like a really, really nice Liberal backbencher. 

Even his sad post election message to his supporters about watching the sun rise that morning bothered me.

The Ontario Green Party needs a warrior not a flower child.

 *Liberals are one seat short of a monority, Conservatives are the Official Opposition, NDP gained seats, Greens elected no one.

Related articles

• Ontario elects minority Liberal government (ctv.ca)
• High hopes, slim odds ahead for provincial Greens (news.nationalpost.com)

Fear of Aluminum Warrior Robots

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"The problem with aluminum wiring is that heat causes the wires to swell. 

Then the electricity arcs from one place to another, finds a curtain, lights it on fire and burns your house down. 

You can stick some copper stuff in there and maybe fix it ...

Half the people in Port Dalhousie have aluminum wiring so don't worry about it."

That might not be exactly what the home inspector told  me yesterday after he found aluminum wiring in the tiny little townhouse that I was about to buy, but it is what I heard.

He definitely said something about swelling aluminum wires, arcing electricity, fixing it with copper and the foolhardiness of the people in Port Dalhousie.

My mind filled in the rest.

And I must say, telling me not to worry about it is like telling me that giant warrior robots from a galaxy not far enough away have landed but it's okay because they're one street over.  

Jeesh.

The Cost of an Executioner

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Last year I posted a list of ten things that I hoped to  hear or read about during my lifetime.

This last week-end, one of the things on my list came true.

Clifford Olson died.

Because he is Canadian and we do not have the death penalty, he wasn't executed.

 Protected during his incarceration, he wasn't  murdered by another inmate. 

He died of natural causes.

As natural as cancer can be, I suppose.

The child torturer/rapist/murderer is gone. 

The tormentor of the families of his victims is gone.

Long years of incarceration should have been a terrible punishment for him, but by all accounts he thrived in prison.

And that isn't right.

 

But I'm grateful to be living in a country where the state does not have the right to execute any of its citizens.

If the cost to us is the continued presence of psychopaths like Clifford Olson in our penal system 

so be it.

Related articles

• Clifford Olson has died. Is it OK to say bad things about him now that he's dead? (pakos.me)
• Serial killer Clifford Olson dead, victim's family says (thestar.com)

A Good Life

Alexander Stewart McGlynn

March 14, 1924 - September 13, 2011



End Days

When I left the hospital last night my father  whispered,

"I heard you crying.  Don't be upset when I die. I've had a good life, a good wife, a good family. Who could have asked for more?"

We were called back to the hospital at midnight but by 1 a.m. he had stabilized.

We left about 1:30.

I woke up at 5:30 and puttered around, so tired now, I'm never really sure why I'm in whatever room I'm in - but always waiting for the phone to ring.

About 9, I went out for groceries.

A lady was ahead of me at the checkout line talking to her red-haired three year old son.

I guess it was the hair.

I suddenly remembered my red-headed Dad telling me how humiliating it was during the Depression to have to go to school in a shirt made out of a sack.

The worst thing, he said with a look that always made me laugh, was the fact that every button was a different shape and colour.

I suppose some day the story will be funny again but not today.

Today I had to put my sunglasses on and hurry out of the store.

Our Aleck

My father took a turn for the worse today.

I've had this letter for a long time.

 

The Argylls trained in Jaimaica before they went to England for D Day.

The letter was written by his Captain (?) to my grandmother in March of 1942.

 

She lost her only brother at Vimy Ridge so this letter must have meant a lot to her.

March, 15th '42

Dear Mrs. McGlynn,

For quite some time past I've been intending writing you these few lines about your son - our Aleck.

The army life surely seems to agree with him for he's the picture of health and apparently he is happy as he, or any of us can be whilst separated from our families.  He is performing his duties very satisfactorily and I'm glad he's a member of our company - 'II'.

There is a good spirit in 'II' company.  We all work well together and so you can rest assured that any problems that Aleck and we may face in the future will be shared by us all.

These are dark days for our Empire but we can only continue to place our faith in God and do the best job wherever we may be.

 Sincerely yours,

C.J. (?)

Captain (?)

Merritton's Labour Day Parade - A Comment

Labour Day was a big event in the small town of Merritton, Ontario, when I was a kid in the 1950s.

Most of the families were dependent on the work the men got at the paper mills that sat on the edge of the Welland Canal.

Consequently, Labour Day with its show of force by the unions, was one of the most important holidays of the year.

But the factories are gone now and in recent years the unions have been in such disfavour that the Labour Day Parade was renamed 'The Community Days Parade' or something sad like that.

 And the unions were only allowed to march after the parade was finished.

It was a grim state of affairs.

But this year was different.

Labour was back and in a big way.

Peter Kormos led the parade and it gave everyone a chance to say thanks for his years of public service.

No more relegated to the back of the parade, the blue collar (and yes white collar workers, too, Debra), marched at the front, in the middle and at the end.

 There was a reminder that with the loss of so many manufacturing jobs Niagara is still hurting

 But it was a big day the unionized workers.

A last gasp?


Hard to say. 

I don't hold out much hope for the big unions.



But I would sure be happy to be wrong!

Related articles

• Layton honoured at Toronto's Labour Day parade (cbc.ca)
• Annual Labour Day march to honour Jack Layton and defend public services (thestar.com)

Labour Day

Speak out.



Organize.

Make a difference.

Happy Labour Day, 2011





Poisoned On the Marge of Lake Leberge

Image by J. Stephen Conn via Flickr

The Cremation of Sam McGee

by Robert W. Service

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee.

I'm quite familiar with Lake Leberge.

It is just a few miles north of Whitehorse. 

I've been out on the lake and I've driven by it more times than I can count.

It always gave me a tingly feeling up and down my spine.

Maybe it was the coldness of the water.

Maybe it was the history - it was on the route thousands of prospectors took to Dawson City during the Gold Rush of 1898.

Maybe it was the way the roiling storm clouds gathered so quickly.

Maybe it was the souls of the indigenous people who live in nearby spirit houses ...

Whatever it was, it affected me deeply, (no pun intended).

Or I did until today.

Today I found out that by 1991 the lake had been poisoned by a pesticide called Toxaphene.

Toxaphene can damage the lungs, nervous system, kidneys and can cause death.

EEK

And all I can think about are the days when we were told to stay inside our houses because 'they' would be spraying mosquito larva.

And a plane would roar over Whitehorse and drench the town in a pesticide and being young and fearless,

(i.e. dumb),

I wouldn't always wait the prescribed amount of time before I went outside again.

 Jeesh

Excuse me while I go and get my kidneys and lungs x-rayed.

Note: The ban on eating fish from lake Leberge has recently been lifted. 

Related articles

• Fish warning lifted at Lake Laberge after 20 years (cbc.ca)