Today, Former Prime Minister, Benizar Bhutto was shot down following a campaign rally, to ensure that death ensued, immediately after the shooting a suicide bomber and their munitions exploded taking out another 22 people, and injuring dozens more.
This is a very sad story about a very brave woman, who returned from exile just last month to contest the election in her country. She has been a champion of a secular Pakistan, one that is tolerant of religious differences, one that grants equal rights to both sexes, and one that believes in democratic principles. Her death is quite a blow to all who share these beliefs.
Why mourn on this side of the world? Exactly because of her set of beliefs, if we are ever to attain any level of understanding across the world, we need to be speaking to people who struggle in like pursuits. We need to let people know that we understand and support them, no not militarily, but fundamentally, and diplomatically. The challenge for Pakistanis now is to somehow react, not in anger but with a renewed vigor to find solutions to long standing mistrust, anger, and hate, based on religious differences.
The challenge for Canada, what it always is, to express our sympathy, our support and our deep belief in the basic value of democracy and pluralistic societies. Our greatest challenge again to frame this outside of whatever George W's response will be.
The challenge for the U.S.A., how to frame this and continue to support President Musarraf"s regime. No one knows exactly who is to blame for this tragic death, yet in the War On Terror, Musharraf, remains one of America's only friends. An uneasy alliance, because of his own human rights record, but one that I am sure George W must tie his pony to.
Do I know how this will play out? Not even remotely, in fact I wouldn't even hazard a guess. I do know this however, there is a war going on over there. It's not us against them, though some would characterize it in that light. The war is about direction, about change, and about ancient grievances. Some would have the Muslim world embrace (what some would call the western world's lifestyle) democracy, freedom of religion, equality of the sexes, and a more open society.
Others would declare this a blaspheme against the teaching of Muhammed, and just another incursion of the Western World on the Muslim world. As long as we in the west continue to wage war on the Islamic world, we only give this side ammunition to give to their children, and as we have seen the children will use whatever ammunition comes to hand.
Am I naive to think that we could allow this region to settle it's own future. That we could watch, not like interfering uncles, not like hopeful parents, but like interested friends. Once the decisions have been made we continue to play and trade and accept that those choices made were for the best for now. If we can't do this, then is it not because we have too much at stake in the area, we have too much to lose in terms of their natural resources. And if this is the case, doesn't that group fighting the incursions of the West, have just cause for their mistrust, fear and hate?
Benizar Bhutto, rest in peace, my same prayer for us all, let us rest in peace.
2007-12-27
2007-12-25
I don't know, i thougth it was funny.
Merry Christmas everyone.
Meant to post this a couple of days ago, but life intrudes occasionally.
So I'm on the subway in Toronto, on Friday afternoon. It's a little busy but not crunched, and I hear near the front of the car a guy asking if anyone can spare some change. "Just so I can get something to eat", well this continues for a few minutes and you can tell he is getting closer and closer to me, typically I give loonies and tooonies out to the homeless, but not typically to guys on the subway, I prefer my begging done in a more intimate setting. One on one on the streets.
So I'm sitting there (yes I was sitting, though others were standing,not proud of it but there you are) wondering how to answer, whether to make eye contact, all those things that run through your mind when you approach or are approached by, a street person. When he comes into view, I almost burst out laughing, His hair was standing on end, he had this crazed look in his eye, and he had the most ridiculously dirty clothes I could imagine. He looked like he had just climbed into a schizophrenic homeless costume, from Walmart.
I didn't give him anything and he carried on down the car.....I could here him the whole way, his patter never varying, his tone not altering, just droning on down the car.
About that time, I became aware that two Mormon missionaries had entered, you can always identify Church of the Latter Day Saints missionaries, they always wear suits, they are young and they have these big honking black plastic name tags on identifying themselves as Elder_____.
Well they caught my eye, cause one of them was talking,in a thick American accent to someone sitting near at hand to where he was standing. -have you ever spoken to a missionary before?
Do you know anything about the Church of the Latter Day Saints?- He didn't seem to be getting anywhere, but his partner caught my eye, he was oriental, his name tag Identified him as Elder
Anderson, and he had chinese script beneath to translate (i guess), it struck me that probably, whatever was written below probably didn't mean Anderson. oh well.
So I'm kinda watching the missionaries, listening to the homeless guy, who by now has realized that many people are now different from the ones he first approached, so he is obviously making his way back up to my end of the train. The Accented missionary continues to try to engage someone in discussion about Mormon, stopping people lined up to get off at next station, approaching sitting people, calling people brother, sister, always asking if they had ever spoken to a missionary. The homeless guy passes me by and finallly gets off, again I am stuck by the meticulous disarray of his garb, the well thought out jumble of hair, he kinda made me laugh.
Just then, a young man in one of those huge South Pole down jackets gets up, I assume that he has heard a lot of the interplay between this missionary and other passengers, don't know but I kinda hope. Elder____ approaches as the other nears the door, between stations. "Hi, have you ever spoken to a missionary, do you know about our church, would you llike to hear more about Mormon?" "Who's Norman?" As the door opens and my new hero exits onto the platform. A good five seats either side of this interchange burst into laughter, and the smiles of good cheer lasted till i reached my stop, two stations later.
Meant to post this a couple of days ago, but life intrudes occasionally.
So I'm on the subway in Toronto, on Friday afternoon. It's a little busy but not crunched, and I hear near the front of the car a guy asking if anyone can spare some change. "Just so I can get something to eat", well this continues for a few minutes and you can tell he is getting closer and closer to me, typically I give loonies and tooonies out to the homeless, but not typically to guys on the subway, I prefer my begging done in a more intimate setting. One on one on the streets.
So I'm sitting there (yes I was sitting, though others were standing,not proud of it but there you are) wondering how to answer, whether to make eye contact, all those things that run through your mind when you approach or are approached by, a street person. When he comes into view, I almost burst out laughing, His hair was standing on end, he had this crazed look in his eye, and he had the most ridiculously dirty clothes I could imagine. He looked like he had just climbed into a schizophrenic homeless costume, from Walmart.
I didn't give him anything and he carried on down the car.....I could here him the whole way, his patter never varying, his tone not altering, just droning on down the car.
About that time, I became aware that two Mormon missionaries had entered, you can always identify Church of the Latter Day Saints missionaries, they always wear suits, they are young and they have these big honking black plastic name tags on identifying themselves as Elder_____.
Well they caught my eye, cause one of them was talking,in a thick American accent to someone sitting near at hand to where he was standing. -have you ever spoken to a missionary before?
Do you know anything about the Church of the Latter Day Saints?- He didn't seem to be getting anywhere, but his partner caught my eye, he was oriental, his name tag Identified him as Elder
Anderson, and he had chinese script beneath to translate (i guess), it struck me that probably, whatever was written below probably didn't mean Anderson. oh well.
So I'm kinda watching the missionaries, listening to the homeless guy, who by now has realized that many people are now different from the ones he first approached, so he is obviously making his way back up to my end of the train. The Accented missionary continues to try to engage someone in discussion about Mormon, stopping people lined up to get off at next station, approaching sitting people, calling people brother, sister, always asking if they had ever spoken to a missionary. The homeless guy passes me by and finallly gets off, again I am stuck by the meticulous disarray of his garb, the well thought out jumble of hair, he kinda made me laugh.
Just then, a young man in one of those huge South Pole down jackets gets up, I assume that he has heard a lot of the interplay between this missionary and other passengers, don't know but I kinda hope. Elder____ approaches as the other nears the door, between stations. "Hi, have you ever spoken to a missionary, do you know about our church, would you llike to hear more about Mormon?" "Who's Norman?" As the door opens and my new hero exits onto the platform. A good five seats either side of this interchange burst into laughter, and the smiles of good cheer lasted till i reached my stop, two stations later.
2007-12-21
Ipperwash
So the Government is returning the land that Dudley George lost his life defending, no far more accurately occupying. He was occupying space that rightly belonged to his people, and for this crime, agents of our government murdered him. A short history lesson:
The disputed land was Native until it was appropriated by the crown as a training ground for military personnel in the Second World War. This was an appropriation not an expropriation. There existed an understanding that this land would be returned to Native hands once it's use had been completed. This was not a sale, forced or otherwise. Natives have fought for this country in disproportionate numbers before there was a country, they defended us from attack by the Americans in 1812, in fact so successfully that the foreign forces beseiging York were already depleted. When the attacking force finally made it to the Fort at York, the Native's camped outside of the fortified walls, because they were not allowed entry. They stayed and fought for us even still. They fought in great numbers in the First World War, and again in The Second World War were over represented as a ratio of population. All of this when not only were they not Canadians, they had no vote, and they were being educated, forcefully in the abomination that was Residential Schools. It is no wonder they would enter an agreement to help safeguard our country.
The great shame in this country has been and continues to be our treatment of our original peoples. In a country so intent on providing a multi-cultural, multi-lateral, model to the rest of the world, our exclusion of our aboriginal peoples is damning. We have a wonderfu history of protecting minority rights here, most unfortunately, this concern seems to wane in the face of Native aspirations. We want our Indians to be protectors of the Earth, we want them to be our conscience and to cry as we bespoil this beautiful planet, but should they act, should they decide to become more involved and try to reclaim that which was lost, and make no mistake, Ipperwash is a conservation issue, well then we get to kill them.
I saw on the news, a self-satisfied ignorant white guy decrying the "lack of consultation" before the land was returned to Native hands. How does a stupid bastard like this get air time? Do we have consultations prior to returning stolen property to the victims of a burglary? Should we? Would he like to be called before the police make the phone call that someone's stereo has been recovered? The Government has held this land 62 years past it's intended time, is equating this to theft that far fetched?
There are thousands of other land disputes in this country, please can't we all agree that losing a life in order to arrive at a just decision is not an option?
Dudley George is dead. Murdered by agents of the state, acting on behalf of the state, and one can only surmise fulfilling the policy of the state. Cold comfort that the state finds that not only wasn't he a criminal, but he was acting as a free man protecting his property rights, as all Canadians are free to do.
Merry fucking Christmas,
I'll retire to bedlam.
The disputed land was Native until it was appropriated by the crown as a training ground for military personnel in the Second World War. This was an appropriation not an expropriation. There existed an understanding that this land would be returned to Native hands once it's use had been completed. This was not a sale, forced or otherwise. Natives have fought for this country in disproportionate numbers before there was a country, they defended us from attack by the Americans in 1812, in fact so successfully that the foreign forces beseiging York were already depleted. When the attacking force finally made it to the Fort at York, the Native's camped outside of the fortified walls, because they were not allowed entry. They stayed and fought for us even still. They fought in great numbers in the First World War, and again in The Second World War were over represented as a ratio of population. All of this when not only were they not Canadians, they had no vote, and they were being educated, forcefully in the abomination that was Residential Schools. It is no wonder they would enter an agreement to help safeguard our country.
The great shame in this country has been and continues to be our treatment of our original peoples. In a country so intent on providing a multi-cultural, multi-lateral, model to the rest of the world, our exclusion of our aboriginal peoples is damning. We have a wonderfu history of protecting minority rights here, most unfortunately, this concern seems to wane in the face of Native aspirations. We want our Indians to be protectors of the Earth, we want them to be our conscience and to cry as we bespoil this beautiful planet, but should they act, should they decide to become more involved and try to reclaim that which was lost, and make no mistake, Ipperwash is a conservation issue, well then we get to kill them.
I saw on the news, a self-satisfied ignorant white guy decrying the "lack of consultation" before the land was returned to Native hands. How does a stupid bastard like this get air time? Do we have consultations prior to returning stolen property to the victims of a burglary? Should we? Would he like to be called before the police make the phone call that someone's stereo has been recovered? The Government has held this land 62 years past it's intended time, is equating this to theft that far fetched?
There are thousands of other land disputes in this country, please can't we all agree that losing a life in order to arrive at a just decision is not an option?
Dudley George is dead. Murdered by agents of the state, acting on behalf of the state, and one can only surmise fulfilling the policy of the state. Cold comfort that the state finds that not only wasn't he a criminal, but he was acting as a free man protecting his property rights, as all Canadians are free to do.
Merry fucking Christmas,
I'll retire to bedlam.
2007-12-16
it's beginning to......
I know that the rest of the country thinks that Toronto takes itself too seriously. In fairness this is probably true. But we have our moments....
We are in the midst of a blizzard here, affecting all of Eastern Canada, and the North East United States, I of course didn't really believe the storm would be as bad as predicted. Toronto hasn't had a really heavy snowfall in years. So I find myself needing to get to the store, I get out my front door, barely, need to push snow away from the doorway. Find myself almost knee deep in the stuff, and the wind cuts through me like a knife, this isn't a good plan, why oh why didn't I believe the weather service?? Oh well, I thinks I'll just go down to the local variety store and pick up a couple of things.
Trudging through snow is an art, I seemingly have forgotten the art, within 50 feet I am huffing and puffing and my legs are feeling decidedly dead. Oh well the store is just down at the corner, carry on. What seems like hours later I find myself at the corner waiting for the light to change, no roads have been plowed, cars are nearly getting stuck at a fairly major intersection, this isn't good, luckily it's a Sunday or this town would be shut down....
Just then a young girl (I'm at an age where anyone younger than me seems ridiculously young), happens by. She looks at me and we smile, I say "It's beautiful, isn't it?" She smiles again, and I add "but really crappy", to which she responds "yeah maybe they'll call in the army again" She laughs and flits across the road as though there were nothing cementing us to the ground. Yes.
The return trip to my house was decidedly easier, and more enjoyable.
We are in the midst of a blizzard here, affecting all of Eastern Canada, and the North East United States, I of course didn't really believe the storm would be as bad as predicted. Toronto hasn't had a really heavy snowfall in years. So I find myself needing to get to the store, I get out my front door, barely, need to push snow away from the doorway. Find myself almost knee deep in the stuff, and the wind cuts through me like a knife, this isn't a good plan, why oh why didn't I believe the weather service?? Oh well, I thinks I'll just go down to the local variety store and pick up a couple of things.
Trudging through snow is an art, I seemingly have forgotten the art, within 50 feet I am huffing and puffing and my legs are feeling decidedly dead. Oh well the store is just down at the corner, carry on. What seems like hours later I find myself at the corner waiting for the light to change, no roads have been plowed, cars are nearly getting stuck at a fairly major intersection, this isn't good, luckily it's a Sunday or this town would be shut down....
Just then a young girl (I'm at an age where anyone younger than me seems ridiculously young), happens by. She looks at me and we smile, I say "It's beautiful, isn't it?" She smiles again, and I add "but really crappy", to which she responds "yeah maybe they'll call in the army again" She laughs and flits across the road as though there were nothing cementing us to the ground. Yes.
The return trip to my house was decidedly easier, and more enjoyable.
2007-12-10
Guilty
Robert Pickton, guilty. Six counts of second degree murder.
Conrad Black, guilty. Being a scummy capitalist bastard.
Maybe justice does exist in this country, maybe Mulroney will get his comeuppance.
But I do have one question, how in the heck do you find that someone committed six murders in the same fashion, during the same time frame, and it not be premeditated?? Sure one, two, maybe even the third, but when you start contemplating a fourth and you aren't sure how it's going to end, c'mon. Circumstances being what they are expecting a different outcome, if you are Pickton seems very remote. However, he will do a few life sentences for these crimes, and what with twenty more cases pending, really we need not fear that he will ever draw another free breath.
On to dear Lord Black. He'll appeal, though who he appeals to is beyond me, I guess the aging Babs Amiel, sort of, though I wonder how long she'll wait at the prison gates, more than six months and I'd be shocked. There must be some filthy rich hustler just waiting for her oily past her prime, over ripe charms to spend his last good years with. I'm sure that's what she's banking on. Connie, guess he's going to spend twelve hard in jail, writing about the miscarriage of justice, that didn't see fit to grant him carte blanche to squeeze every plug nickel out of anyone greedy enough to climb onto the hay ride that was his media empire. If only we were as smart as he we would see how he was just conducting business the way everyone does, or would if they were smart enough, which he alone is. He has got himself so far up his own ass that non-compete clauses are inhibiting him from working for the corporation that employs him, he's been double blinded by the double blindness of the shrewdity that is him. Good riddance, let him rot in a U.S. prison.
Brian , Brian, you are dirty dirty dirty. Just take your lumps and lay with the pigs with whom you shared the slop.
Conrad Black, guilty. Being a scummy capitalist bastard.
Maybe justice does exist in this country, maybe Mulroney will get his comeuppance.
But I do have one question, how in the heck do you find that someone committed six murders in the same fashion, during the same time frame, and it not be premeditated?? Sure one, two, maybe even the third, but when you start contemplating a fourth and you aren't sure how it's going to end, c'mon. Circumstances being what they are expecting a different outcome, if you are Pickton seems very remote. However, he will do a few life sentences for these crimes, and what with twenty more cases pending, really we need not fear that he will ever draw another free breath.
On to dear Lord Black. He'll appeal, though who he appeals to is beyond me, I guess the aging Babs Amiel, sort of, though I wonder how long she'll wait at the prison gates, more than six months and I'd be shocked. There must be some filthy rich hustler just waiting for her oily past her prime, over ripe charms to spend his last good years with. I'm sure that's what she's banking on. Connie, guess he's going to spend twelve hard in jail, writing about the miscarriage of justice, that didn't see fit to grant him carte blanche to squeeze every plug nickel out of anyone greedy enough to climb onto the hay ride that was his media empire. If only we were as smart as he we would see how he was just conducting business the way everyone does, or would if they were smart enough, which he alone is. He has got himself so far up his own ass that non-compete clauses are inhibiting him from working for the corporation that employs him, he's been double blinded by the double blindness of the shrewdity that is him. Good riddance, let him rot in a U.S. prison.
Brian , Brian, you are dirty dirty dirty. Just take your lumps and lay with the pigs with whom you shared the slop.
2007-12-06
A Winter Stroll
It's a beautiful early winter night out there, just got in from a nice walk around the neighbourhood. I live in the Beaches/Beach area of Toronto, it's a great place for walking and sight seeing, (if you are into looking in peoples houses). Many already are fully decorated for the Holidays, and with the light covering of snow it is quite picturesque, and if I knew how to get pictures on this stupid blog, you'd see what I mean. This area of the city has always been really quite well-to-do, but there are some sections and streets that were always inhabited by people of fairly modest means. I was struck tonight by how even these streets have been gentrified, how there doesn't appear to be any low income housing in this area any more. Then it occurred to me that the other day a report came out stating that Toronto has one of the lowest mean incomes in Ontario, where are these people living? Cabbage town, an historic working class neighbourhood is very upscale now, the west end around 'little Italy' now very popular and expensive, are we driving the low wage earners out to Alberta? We can't be because apparently most low wage earners are living in Toronto. Strange. And a little frightening. In a society which insists on seeing upward mobility as a clear goal, with industry saying it can't pay decent wages (apparently a $10.00/hr minimum wage would close many) in a city where real estate is the hottest commodity, and a paucity of affordable housing is a fact of life, doesn't it seem obvious that this is a spiral to ghettoization of our poor working class?
How does it come about that in a country as blessed as this, with an economy performing as well as ours, that we have a huge percent of our workers living in poverty? 'splain that to me Lucy?
The number of children in this city living in poverty is staggering, and with Christmas just around the corner, this must be the hardest time of the year to be broke, cause everyone sees the ads for all the really neat stuff that's available if only you got the dough. No wonder people play the lotteries. Dare I say it, no wonder people sell drugs, knock off convenience stores, or try to cheat their way to a little extra moola. Solutions?
Well Canada was a co-sponsor of a U.N. anti child poverty initiative a number of years ago, why don't we revisit what we were supposed to accomplish. Stephen Lewis was instrumental in drafting it, I am sure if we asked him he'd remind us of how we were going to achieve this worthy goal of eradicating child poverty. A national housing policy? How does a nation as wealthy as ours, with a climate as inhospitable as ours not guarantee a safe and secure roof over every childs head? How in a country as food rich is it possible for children to attend school hungry? The National, Wheat, Egg, and Dairy boards continue to limit the full utilization of crops in order to inflate the pricing, couldn't we be feeding our kids? For that matter couldn't we be feeding kids all over the world? We can't afford it? The amount of wealth being generated daily in the real estate markets around this country is staggering. I'm sure that we can all point to houses that are worth (or at least being sold for) thirty times their price of thirty years ago. These gains are making the gap between rich and poor look like the grand canyon.
The wild surge in real estate in this country is nuts, number one the land was stolen from the Natives, (even that crook Brian Mulroney acknowledges that), and as we all know one of the only methods of making restitution for theft, is returning the stolen property, we all know that this isn't going to happen. But what of limiting the gains that can be made? Since true clear title can not ever be given, why not set a value and in the event a property goes for more- the excess is turned over to the original (native) owners. Of course I am speaking of turnng this over to the bands who would have signed the first treaties pertaining to that land, in the Mohawks case (who never signed over any land) we'd need to arrive at a different formula. It always struck me as absurd that in a land as large as Canada, where the only thing that existed was miles and miles of miles', that one of the first imports was British Common Law, which speaks almost exclusively to land ownership rights. Imported from a small little island, where lands intrinsic value could be understood, to a country of almost limitless land, where one would expect it to be valueless. Too radical? How much more radical will our thinking need to get once we have ghettoized ourselves based not on race but on economic station?
How does it come about that in a country as blessed as this, with an economy performing as well as ours, that we have a huge percent of our workers living in poverty? 'splain that to me Lucy?
The number of children in this city living in poverty is staggering, and with Christmas just around the corner, this must be the hardest time of the year to be broke, cause everyone sees the ads for all the really neat stuff that's available if only you got the dough. No wonder people play the lotteries. Dare I say it, no wonder people sell drugs, knock off convenience stores, or try to cheat their way to a little extra moola. Solutions?
Well Canada was a co-sponsor of a U.N. anti child poverty initiative a number of years ago, why don't we revisit what we were supposed to accomplish. Stephen Lewis was instrumental in drafting it, I am sure if we asked him he'd remind us of how we were going to achieve this worthy goal of eradicating child poverty. A national housing policy? How does a nation as wealthy as ours, with a climate as inhospitable as ours not guarantee a safe and secure roof over every childs head? How in a country as food rich is it possible for children to attend school hungry? The National, Wheat, Egg, and Dairy boards continue to limit the full utilization of crops in order to inflate the pricing, couldn't we be feeding our kids? For that matter couldn't we be feeding kids all over the world? We can't afford it? The amount of wealth being generated daily in the real estate markets around this country is staggering. I'm sure that we can all point to houses that are worth (or at least being sold for) thirty times their price of thirty years ago. These gains are making the gap between rich and poor look like the grand canyon.
The wild surge in real estate in this country is nuts, number one the land was stolen from the Natives, (even that crook Brian Mulroney acknowledges that), and as we all know one of the only methods of making restitution for theft, is returning the stolen property, we all know that this isn't going to happen. But what of limiting the gains that can be made? Since true clear title can not ever be given, why not set a value and in the event a property goes for more- the excess is turned over to the original (native) owners. Of course I am speaking of turnng this over to the bands who would have signed the first treaties pertaining to that land, in the Mohawks case (who never signed over any land) we'd need to arrive at a different formula. It always struck me as absurd that in a land as large as Canada, where the only thing that existed was miles and miles of miles', that one of the first imports was British Common Law, which speaks almost exclusively to land ownership rights. Imported from a small little island, where lands intrinsic value could be understood, to a country of almost limitless land, where one would expect it to be valueless. Too radical? How much more radical will our thinking need to get once we have ghettoized ourselves based not on race but on economic station?
2007-12-01
Traditional Guy
So it is December 1st!! I guess we all know what this means, time to decide what Christmas Traditions we will follow this year. Most people when asked admit to having some pretty deeply ingrained beliefs around Christmas traditions. When do we put up the tree? When do we open the presents? Where are we going to have Christmas dinner? Most people can tell you exactly what their traditions are- We always put up the tree the Sunday before Christmas, We always go to Midnight Mass. We open presents Christmas morning after breakfast (after my parents arrive). Then around 4:00 we head over to (insert spouses name here)'s parents house for Christmas dinner. Yumm turkey and stuffing! We're typically home by midnight, and the next day we're off to my sister's house. Everyone has these, or some variation on same.
When I was a kid, we put up the tree on Christmas Eve. What a beautiful tradition....my father would set the tree in it's stand, water it, tie it off to the wall, then he and my mother would string the lights, after which we kids (my two older sisters and myself) would string the garland,
and put the baubles on. Then my father would top the tree with the Angel. How darling... the reality is my father would put the tree in the stand, cursing the entire time, because the godd*m*d trunk is bl**dy crooked! 'Norma, is it straight?' (as he`s belly down on the floor, fiddling with the set screws). `Can anyone tell me if the god*mn*d things straight!! Jesus H Christ!! I`m getting a drink. No, I`ll tell you when you can start decorating. Don`t bug me!!`
He returns a few minutes later, full drink in hand, `now can someone just hold the thing steady while I tighten it down`. Down to the floor he goes, ìs that straight, okay hold it like that, Jesus
don`t move! `Christ, Rob you get down here, I`ll hold the jesus thing straight while you tighten them up.` no turn them the other way! Is this thing even straight. You`ve got the bare patch pointing out, Jesus. He storms out for another drink....three drinks later (usually rye and 7-up)
the tree is securely in its stand, and we decide how best to tie it to the wall--couple drinks later he and my mother begin to string the lights `have we tested them` well a few drinks down the road and we can start decorating--much instruction, and warning about dropping fragile baubles follows, finish off with icicles, water the tree and voila! We all stand back to enjoy our handiwork.
Sometime in this the tree falls down, usually just after the tree stand is filled with sugar water.
Well you get the picture, and it ain`t pretty. Yet we all continue to celebrate, and put up trees and act like all of this is normal...
Some years my father would still be awake at midnight mass time, though we never went, but he would on those occassions of his consciousness watch the pope on tv. He wouldn`t attend mass, `well not since they stopped performing it in Latin, it`s lost all of it`s wonder.` Then he would toddle off to bed, his snoring keeping most of the area residents awake half of the night.
The first tree that I ever put up away from home (my parent`s home) was with my future wife of the time (now ex-wife), we put it up about two weeks before Christmas. We were hosting a party and needed the tree up, and Nancy`s family always put up their tree early. Tradition One gone. Although I probably got drunk, so only partly gone. Whereas my family always stayed home and entertained on Christmas, Nancy and I would need to visit, her parents on Christmas Eve, my parents Christmas Day. Number Two, pffft. Boxing Day as a kid was a day for friends-
as a husband a day for her grandparents and extended family. Number Three, down. Then you have kids of your own-changes, Numbers four five and six-no longer. A parent dies everything changes, Kids get older -again. Divorce-nothing is ever the same, the kids get shared in alternating years. Aging kids have their own sets of wants-changaroo.
I know that I am not alone, that adapting traditions is more the norm than the exception, yet we cling to this hard held belief that Christmas is a time for traditional family values. But I know, Christmas is a time of petty hurts, minor tragedies, and remembrances of things and people lost,
and yet I love it so.
So again I ask, what traditions will I follow this year. When will I erect the tree, shall I wear my trousers rolled. The tears for all the hurts, tragedies, lost things and people will come, I will in some small way welcome them. And yet in all of this, I would change little.
When I was a kid, we put up the tree on Christmas Eve. What a beautiful tradition....my father would set the tree in it's stand, water it, tie it off to the wall, then he and my mother would string the lights, after which we kids (my two older sisters and myself) would string the garland,
and put the baubles on. Then my father would top the tree with the Angel. How darling... the reality is my father would put the tree in the stand, cursing the entire time, because the godd*m*d trunk is bl**dy crooked! 'Norma, is it straight?' (as he`s belly down on the floor, fiddling with the set screws). `Can anyone tell me if the god*mn*d things straight!! Jesus H Christ!! I`m getting a drink. No, I`ll tell you when you can start decorating. Don`t bug me!!`
He returns a few minutes later, full drink in hand, `now can someone just hold the thing steady while I tighten it down`. Down to the floor he goes, ìs that straight, okay hold it like that, Jesus
don`t move! `Christ, Rob you get down here, I`ll hold the jesus thing straight while you tighten them up.` no turn them the other way! Is this thing even straight. You`ve got the bare patch pointing out, Jesus. He storms out for another drink....three drinks later (usually rye and 7-up)
the tree is securely in its stand, and we decide how best to tie it to the wall--couple drinks later he and my mother begin to string the lights `have we tested them` well a few drinks down the road and we can start decorating--much instruction, and warning about dropping fragile baubles follows, finish off with icicles, water the tree and voila! We all stand back to enjoy our handiwork.
Sometime in this the tree falls down, usually just after the tree stand is filled with sugar water.
Well you get the picture, and it ain`t pretty. Yet we all continue to celebrate, and put up trees and act like all of this is normal...
Some years my father would still be awake at midnight mass time, though we never went, but he would on those occassions of his consciousness watch the pope on tv. He wouldn`t attend mass, `well not since they stopped performing it in Latin, it`s lost all of it`s wonder.` Then he would toddle off to bed, his snoring keeping most of the area residents awake half of the night.
The first tree that I ever put up away from home (my parent`s home) was with my future wife of the time (now ex-wife), we put it up about two weeks before Christmas. We were hosting a party and needed the tree up, and Nancy`s family always put up their tree early. Tradition One gone. Although I probably got drunk, so only partly gone. Whereas my family always stayed home and entertained on Christmas, Nancy and I would need to visit, her parents on Christmas Eve, my parents Christmas Day. Number Two, pffft. Boxing Day as a kid was a day for friends-
as a husband a day for her grandparents and extended family. Number Three, down. Then you have kids of your own-changes, Numbers four five and six-no longer. A parent dies everything changes, Kids get older -again. Divorce-nothing is ever the same, the kids get shared in alternating years. Aging kids have their own sets of wants-changaroo.
I know that I am not alone, that adapting traditions is more the norm than the exception, yet we cling to this hard held belief that Christmas is a time for traditional family values. But I know, Christmas is a time of petty hurts, minor tragedies, and remembrances of things and people lost,
and yet I love it so.
So again I ask, what traditions will I follow this year. When will I erect the tree, shall I wear my trousers rolled. The tears for all the hurts, tragedies, lost things and people will come, I will in some small way welcome them. And yet in all of this, I would change little.
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