Bon Voyage, Julie


It is with great anticipation that Canadians have been waiting for the space shuttle to fly again. (This Endeavour mission has been delayed four times already but just may go tonight.)
It has been even more news worthy here than in the US; in part because of Julie Payette one of Canada remarkable astronauts. On this trip to to the Space station Canada will have two astronauts together in the Space station for the first time as she joins Bob Thirsk who is already in there where he will be for a longer period of time conducting medical experiments.

Julie Payette is the Flight Engineer on this mission. Her role is crucial to the success of this construction mission for she will largely be in charge of the construction. She will operate the Canadarm robotic cranes (Canada's greatest contribution to the space station, without which it could not be built). She also will operate another one supplied by Japan, which I assume is to be used to install the outside platform for experiments Japan has created. She will manage the astronauts that will be outside the Space Station doing the construction work. The last time she was at the Space Station, (she was on the Discovery, the first crew to visit the station) she had a similar role which she describes in the video below.

You can read her daily journal entries here, http://www.asc-csa.gc.ca/eng/missions/sts-127/journal_today.asp

Julie Payette is a remarkable Renaissance woman. Her accomplishments are numerable. She is not only an engineer but a pilot, athlete, singer, musician, linguist, mother as well as an astronaut for many years. Read her NASA Biography and marvel at her accomplishments.

View this video and hear her speak in her own words of some of the things of the Space Program she finds interesting. I particularly like her saying what she found most surprising on her first mission.





In this video, I find Julie Payette's observations of the Earth from space. Not only is it spectacular to see as a unity but she marvels at how fragile it is, protected with a thin layer of atmosphere.





Besides her many accomplishments, Julie Payette is also charming and attractive and soft spoken with a French Canadian lilt in her voice. When she speaks she is reflective and the delight she feels for her career as an astronaut is evident. What a wonderful role model she is for young women who harbour dreams of accomplishments in life. If you have the time, it is well worth while to take the time, to watch the video of her address to the students at Simon Fraser University.

Even beautiful women with big hair can be intellectually brilliant, accomplished and focused in there lives. (I just couldn't resist this sexist comment. It is hard to overcome your upbringing)

Continued success, Madame Julie Payette, you make all Canadians proud.

Down by the Riverside



















A place to sit and let the stream of life move on down the river.


















"Come on ! Big fella, sit down and rest a while."



















The Temagami River as it moves on downstream



















View from the porch swing




















The cabin in a shady riverside glade among some elm trees. South facing, it get the morning sun.


While the cabin is only about 1/4 of a mile, from the house, across my property, it is largely out of sight, being located on the slope of the river cut. It seems so secluded here. It is a good place to sit and contemplate.

I have been spending a little time here with Heidi working on some interior work on the cabin which never seems to get done. It is nice to go for a swim a couple of times a day whenever I work up a sweat.

I Can't Help Myself

I promised myself I would leave the MJ story alone after my brief previous comments but I just could not help myself when I saw the following cartoons by Ygreck.





































Ygreck is a French Canadian political cartoonist. His work is not often presented for English speaking audiences. Some cartoons require some facility in French. I think he is very funny and skilled. Most often he does cartoon with Canada and the French Canadian community in mind. Occasionally he cannot resist commenting about a wider world when it is of interest to his audience. If you want to see some more of his work visit his web site http://ygreck.typepad.com/ I love his caricatures of Canadian politicians.

All The Best on The Fourth of July

This being the Fourth of July, Independence Day, I am flying Old Glory on my porch to salute my American friends and family. I hope you have a lovely day with family and friends around the barbecue.

Remembering

Am I the only person who is tired of all the obsessive news about Michael Jackson? His death is a family tragedy and would be better left to the family. His contribution to popular music warrants being admired by his fans ( among whom I am not included). All the other public praise he is getting is way over the top. He is being praised as a great talent, human being, humanitarian, businessman etc. Really. . . .! CNN seems to have given over all its program schedule to him. FOX is almost as bad but they cannot seem to let go of their need to criticize Obama, for very long. Embarassingly, even the CBC and CTV and even the BBC seem to dwell too long on this faux news.

I am afraid I only think of him as a sad human being, worthy of our pity, who had a difficult childhood and became an adult who was uncomfortable in his own skin. He was a pathetic injured soul. He was certainly no humanitarian. He was self indulgent often creating a World only he seemed to inhabit. I doubt if he had any real friends among the hangers-on and "yes" men who surrounded him. As for being a businessman, it seems dying owing nearly 1/2 a billion dollars qualifies him as such?

The truth is that Michael Jackson was a drug addict and a pedophile. Twenty years from now maybe one of his children will write a tell all book as to what kind of a parent he was.

As a person he deserves to be forgotten.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On the other hand, today in Canada, there is a state funeral for a remarkable Canadian. Roméo LeBlanc (1927-2009). He was a public servant who entered politics for all the right reasons and made a significant contribution. He became a politician and served as a cabinet minister for years. Eventually, he became our first Governor General (Queen's representative) of Acadian heritage. He is a French Canadian from the Acadian community in New Brunswick. (Not all French Canadians are Québécois. The Acadian French spoken there is "Chiac".

He was raised in the very rural subsitance farm life of that community. In L'Acadie, of his youth his community lived close to the land, fishing, farming and forestry.
He was one of the few of his generation who got a higher education to become a teacher, journalist, and politician. http://www2.macleans.ca/2009/06/24/romeo-leblanc-1927-2009/

He remained a humble man rooted in his community all his life. He served his family, community and Nation with distinction. Not only was he successful in his profession, he was a successful as a human being.

I heard a friend of his relate a story about him. One of his brother's died years ago. He gave his sister-in-law half of his modest salary so she could pay the medical bills. I wonder who we know now who would do such a thing.

I invite you to read a little about the remarkable life of Roméo LeBlanc, a much respected and cherished Canadian and Acadian. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rom%C3%A9o_LeBlanc

Today, the powerful of the country and humble admirers of his community have gathered for a state funeral at Saint Thomas Church in his town on Memramcook, New Brunswick. He will long be remembers as a remarkable Canadian man and public servant.

Happy Canada Day!

This is Canada's 142 year.


This video I thought was a cute celebrations of things Canadian, appropriate for today. I love the line about if you want to become a Canadian the first two things you must do is "Give up your gun , , , buy a canoe."





Below is an instrumental version of "O, Canada" with the lyrics in English and French printed on it. Over the years the lyrics have been dickered with. Over all I like the lyrics as being modest and celebratory of our vast country. I like that it is not filled with militaristic and nationalist references as so many National Anthems are.

At first I considered a rendition by Celine Dion. She began fine at first with respectful modest tones but later soared with lots of vocal coloration as only Celine can do. This might be appropriate in the land of "with bombs bursting in air",but it is too over the top for we more modest Canadians.





It is interesting to know that "O Canada", both the tune and the lyric were created by French Canadians. Here is it's history. http://www.pch.gc.ca/pgm/ceem-cced/symbl/anthem-eng.cfm#a2


Canada's youngest region is Nunivut, the vast Arctic region of the Inuit people (this is redundant as Inuit means "the people"). Inuktitut is one of the official languages and spoken widely among the Inuit.

Below is a version of " O Canada" with the lyrics in Inuktitut in both the Latin alphabet and syllabics.







I trust everyone will have a wonderful Canada Day. It is good to live in such a beautiful country and be part of a Nation which has become so well respected in the World. By most international measure Canada is one of the best and most progressive countries in the World.

In our history, we have steadily improved as a country. We need to continue to hold ourselves to a high standard for there are many more improvements which need to be made.

May we always be to the "True North strong and free".

La Fete de Saint-Jean-Babtiste

Today is the historic holiday of La Fete de Saint-Jean-Babtiste. In Quebec it is now officially known as La Fete de Nationale du Quebec. It has been celebrated in French Canada since the French colonists arrived in the 17th Century. Over time it has been transformed from a religious holiday to a holiday of all things French to the special holiday for French Canadian Nationalists, a secular statutory holiday in Quebec. For some it is seen as an exclusive holiday for those who aspire for the creation of an independent separate French Nation. We were reminded of this when a few booed the couple of English speaking Quebec bands performed at a concert. Eventually it may come to be a celebration of Quebec culture which includes Quebeckers other than the Quebecois: the anglophones and allophones and the First Nations people.

The Quebec Flag

The Franco-Ontarien flag.

This flag was developed here in Northern Ontario and first flown at Sudbury University. Today in recognition of Franco-Ontariens and Saint-Jean-Babtiste Day it if flown over the Ontario Parliament Buildings.

The flag is in two parts, representing the two founding cultures. The green and white also stands for the two seasons of Summer and Winter. On the green panel is a fleur-de-Lys and on the white segment is a stylized trillium, the official flower of Ontario.

Today I am reminded of a discovery of mine a few years ago when I was doing work at the local museum. I was sorting through a box of material of an organisation with the initials OJC on it. It was little more than a few lists of names, of local families and some ceremonial banners. I asked around of the other people at the museum as to what it was all about and what did OJC stand for. No one seemed to know. Finally, I discovered on a scrap of paper "Ordre de Jacques Cartier."This was the name of the organizations to which these materials belonged. I had some difficulty finding out what kind of organization it was. http://www.accessmylibrary.com/coms2/summary_0286-34970928_ITM

I was discussing this with a woman in our little village who had deep roots in the area. She is a bit of an amateur historian. Finally, she told me that it was a secret French Canadian organiztion. And, it would still be hard to find anyone who would discuss it with me. She told me of an older person in the area who she knew had been a member and he might talk to me about it. I never did locate him but in time I learned it was a men's organization, organized like a religious order. It was so secretative that some men did not even tell their wives that they belonged. It was connected with the French Catholic Church as most French groups were in those days, I imagine the priests had some leadership role or at least were very influential.

The OJC was an organization founded to promote French language culture: social, educational, political. It involved such things as helping a promising Franco-Ontarien student get to University to help organize and work in French language institutions: Caisse Populaire, (Credit Union), Richilieu Club ( social and philanthropic club), Saint Jean Babtiste Society, Association des Jeunnesse Francaises, Les Chevalier de Coulombe (Knights of Columbus). etc.

One needs to know that in 1926 French Canadians were a much oppressed group, treated as second class citizens in Canada. Even in Quebec, the minority English were the managers and the professionals while the French were the workers and labourers . Canada was still a predominantly rural country with most people working in farming, foresty and mining, particularly the French.

At a time when Canada had an official policy of cultural genocide toward First Nations' people, the French , outside of Quebec,(where they had some rights under the British North American Act, as to their language, culture an civil law.) struggled with the French language and culture officially discouraged. This too was a form of cultural genocide.The best example of this was Regulation 17 which limited the teaching in the French Language.

Canada was a very different country in 1926 than it is today. It was in this context that the OJC was founded to quietly promote the French agenda of the broadening of the acceptance of the use of the French language and recognition and strengthening of French culture.

The OJC was founded in 1926 in Vanier, Ontario under the leadership of Cure Barette. It eventually was established across Canada in French speaking area. It lasted until 1965. Ironically, it ended as an organization with the rise and militancy of the Quebec Separatists. Outside of Quebec the French Canadians decided they wanted to remain part of Canada. Over the years they had struggled and continued to struggle to win a place where they could be comfortable within Canada and maintain their French language and culture. They did not want to be part of a separate French Nation. To this day, French Separatists have written off French Canadians outside of Quebec as a lost cause, to be obsorbed by English Canada, that they should not waste their time over and try to speak for all the French Canadians in Canada. For them French Canada is Quebec.

Canada being declared a Federal bilingual and multicultural country under the leadership of Pierre Trudeau those French Canadians ouside of Quebec were rewarded. I suspect the work of the Ordre of Jacques Cartier behind the scenes had an important part to play. French institutions they helped create were ready to serve a growing and thriving French community. As an example in our area we have strong French institutions that serve all the people. I bank at the Caisse Populaire, I shop at the Regionale Cooperatif de Nipissing, and if I want to learn Spanish I would have to go to College Boreal. We have a French language high school, Franco Cite as well as a bilingual high school. Our small hospital serves us equally in French and English. When I sought some counseling I went the the L' Alliance. Retail stores are fully bilingual and of course there are French speaking social and philanthropic clubs. One would not dream of holding a public meeting without everything being done in two languages, even though virtually all French speakers are fully billingual. The spirit of the Ordre de Jacques Cartier group is reflected in all this.

While the OJC contribution to the evolution of Canada to what it is today may never be fully known I suspect without them Canada might not have become what it is and may have even split over the separatist forces.

That there was group in this rural area gives witness to the extent of it's influence throughout French speaking Canadians.

This is about the only book written about the OJC. It is only in French as far as I can find out. In fact, virtually all the important articles on the OJC are in French and in the archives of the French speaking Universities. English Canada knows little or nothing about this organization and its place in Canadian History.

For those who speak a little French here is a video of on L'Ordre de Jacques-Cartier from a recent broadcast of Panorama on French TV.

Note: I always feel I must apologize for dropping the accents on the French words. I cannot find a way Blogger will easily allow you to include the accents. I do recognize that the accents are important parts of the words. The only way I know I could include them is too time consuming. It requires the writing the accented letters on a page in Word, or another word processing program and then copy the letter from there and paste it into the Blogger text. If anyone knows another way that works I would appreciate hearing from you.

Catching Up

I have been shut down from the Internet for a weeks thanks to my problems with Bell Canada and AOL. I pride myself on being laid back and mellow but when it comes to these two companies I easily find myself ranting at them over the phone. Their tech people in India must think I am a crazy person. The only other times I have become a crazy person was when I jumped to the defense of Parker, when he was little. I remember at these two occasion: one facing down a Principal of a school and the other taking a strip off a doctor. Perhaps, more about my latest rant later.


















Someone asked me to post a picture of the Lilacs when they are in bloom. Well here is the one on the east side of the verandah which gets the morning sun. It is doing a little better than the one on the other side of the house. They smell so nice this time of year. We also have a small white one which is blooming for the first time.

Here is a sad bit of news. I may cut a nice bouquet of Lilacs and sent them off to Dave in the hospital. My friend, Dave, who shares my house along with his wife, June is in the hospital. He has begun the process of dying. Dave is 87 years old and for a couple of weeks he has slept a lot and stayed in his room. He went off his food and drink and finally when he began to get dehydrated June called the ambulance to take him to the hospital. June finally realized that she was not really able to cope with his conditions. I had been prodding her for a few days to take Dave to see the doctor. Well! his organs are failing. His kidneys don't function any more and his heart is very weak. He is very weak and stays in bed. He also is not always fully aware of everyone. The doctors have told us they will keep him comfortable but do no heroic efforts to interfere with nature taking it's course. June is comfortable with this. So we wait.



















Prior to this past week, my pig, Ruby, the one on the right, the Red Duroc pig, (you cannot tell by her colour for the two of them have been lying in a mud hole to keep cool.) went for another walkabout. She was gone for a whole week. It was 4 days before anyone called me to tell me they had seen her. Every time someone called and told me where they saw her I went to look and could not locate her. She was somewhere in the neighbour's hay field on the other side to his pastures with all the electric fencing. I figure Ruby got over there and could not find her way home around the fencing. Being a herd animal I figured she was spending some time near the other animals in the pasture; cows and calves, horses, the donkey and the Llama. I did see a spot along the fence where she had laid so I went over at 4:30 one morning at first light thinking I could locate her. No Ruby! Finally, my neighbour, began to relocate his animals to the other pastures on the other side to me. He stopped and said the pig was coming down the road. He must have let her into the pasture where she could get out onto the road. I jumped into the car to find her just on the other side to the hill . No Ruby! I came home and as I got out of the car I called her in my classic, Arkansas Razorback call, Sooooooo. EEEEEEE! And there she was across the road, she had cut cross the bush side of the hill to get home. She is back in the field with Babe and seems content to stay for now. I hope this wandering is not a monthly quest for boar companionship? My neighbour just may find her a place in his freezer if she shows up there again.

(Click on the photo to enlarge)



















Here is a pictute of my sister (two years older than I am) on her last adventure of hiking the Camino de Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage trek in Spain. She did not hike it all but did manage to do 190 km. She may go back and hike some more of it another time. In the picture, she is with her youngest son, Donald, who shared in her adventure.
















Here is another old photo my son sorted out of my big box of photos. It is one of my class pictures. You may not recognize me for it was taken before I grew a beard. I was a bit of a
towhead back them. We certainly were not the snappiest of dressers back then. A lot of the kids were farm kids and we were all rural and of modest means. I am not sure what grade this is. . . .third grade perhaps. I don't see my best friends, Peter Clancy and Dickie Grebeldinger, in this photo and I think we were in the first and second grade together.

Peter and Dickie and I were fast friends up into high school. Peter went off to the private University of Toronto High School and Dickie and I muddled through the local Port Credit High School.

Sadly, Peter died in a motorcycle accident along with an other friend of ours, Joe Olexy, not far from our house. He was the first of many friends I had die from accidents before I was twenty.

Dickie is still my oldest friend., my American friend. They came from Montana. They were the only people I knew who owned guns. (Go figure!) There are tales to tell. It is a wonder we survived! We do not always see a lot of each other but when we do we just pick up where we left off with no apologies.This is how I know It is a true friendship.

My mother dressed me in beeches back them. We called them breeks. They were woollen and were cut like riding breeches, flared at the thigh and close fitting around the lower calf. There was a laced section to tighten them at the bottom Long socks were pulled up over them. How I hated wearing them! You would at least think if I had to wear jodhpurs, I should have at least been able to have a pony.

I am in the front row, the third from the left.


This posting is getting long so I will pass on my rant about the Bell Telephone Company and AOL. It could get really ugly and long.

Some Family Photos

My son has been going through my large box of photos. (I have never to been good at keeping things in good order.) Unfortunately, most of my photos of my youth are on slides. So far I don't think you can go from negatives to digital positive photos on a personal computer, yet. Perhaps, I will have some of the best printed into photos. If I can get my scanner going, I may scan more pictures to save on the computer.

Parker just emailed the photo's below.
























This is my maternal grandmother, Lavinia Beeston, (nee Whaley). I fondly refer to her as the little old Methodist lady. She was what is known in Britain as "chapel": not of the established Anglican church. My memories of her are as a kindly, quiet, gentle woman who always had some candy in her purse as a treat for us when she came to visit.

She had become a teacher when at 16 she was the best student in the class they made her the teacher. She always had little words of wisdom to teach us. I thinks this is where I learned such expressions as. "A penny saved is a penny earned." Take care of your pennies and your pounds will take care of themselves." "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all"." My favourite which I only heard once but found it memorable. "When you are feeling down, remember you are part of the British Empire!" (I guess she caught me at a depressed moment). Even at my young age I found this a little preposterous.

Not everything was postive, she held some negative views of the Irish, not uncommon for her generation. It has tainted my view of the Irish which I have tried hard to resist all my life.

My grandmother and grandfather came to Canada from England in 1903. To do this they left three of their children behind until they got established. My mother and her youngest sister were born in Canada. We were all British subjects, myself included. It was not until the late '40's that Canadian citizenship was formalized. It took my grandmother about thirty years and three trips back to England to finally decide she was a Canadian.

My grandparents successfully had, and raised, five children, a son and four daughters. My uncle, Charles Beeston became an architect and moved to the US marrying an American. This is where I came to have American relatives, which now includes cousins, second cousins. my brother and his family and even my son Parker, who was born in Cambridge, Ma. and holds dual citizenship.

My grandmother died when I was 12 or 13, I think. Her death was a kind of coming of age event for me as I was asked to be one of the pall bearers, along with adult men of the family. Her death was the first of many deaths of close friends I experienced at a young age. My teen years, dealing with death, I think contributed to my interest in religion and ultimately, the ministry.


















This is a picture of the three of us: my little brother, Richard, 3 years younger; my sister, Penny, 2 years older, and me. I think I was 9 or 10 here. I just remembered that this was taken when we travelled to Connecticut to visit my Uncle Charlie. My cousin Jane took this picture. This was a great adventure for us a year after my father learned to drive. We crossed New York State on Route 20, for there was no New York Thuway. I remember Howard Johnson, Chicken in the Basket, and Burma Shave ads along the way.

My parents had a first girl child, who died as a SIDS baby. I was always vaguely aware of this. My parents did not talk much about it in front of us. My sister, the replacement child, was more affected apparently.

(click on photo to enlarge)























This is my mother, Bessie Robinson, (nee Beeston) elegantly sitting on our front stoop. She was in her early 30's . She was a wonderful mother, who has affected me more than anyone else.

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This was the modest house I grew up in. My parents bought it for $8,000 in the late forties. They paid in off over 20 years at 4% interest. I am not sure who the kids are . My sister, with the pigtails is standing and the tow- headed one is my brother, Richard. The older person seated could be my Aunt Billie, my mother's youngest sister.

There next house, a more stylish ranch style house, was on the street behind, which you cannot see though the trees as the street had not been put through by then. Our house was in the woods and really quite rural. We lived here for several years without a car. We walked. I can still remember as a very young child coming out to the house with my father when it was being built and walking two miles up to Cooksville over the electrical permit and then two miles back to the house. My father walked the mile to the train to go into Toronto to work as an electrician. We came to attend the Presbyterian Church because we had a neighbour who offered to drive us.
Otherwise. we would have gone to the United Church. (the union of Methodist, Congregationalists and half the Presbyterians in the '20's)

This was a great place to grow up with the woodlands to explore in. My sister even got lost in it once. As more families located in this area there were lots of baby boom young children in our neighbourhood.

We never worried about safety. Our house was never locked and we came to roam widely to play in creeks and the river and even down in the small town of Port Credit, on the lake. Our walk to school was 1 or 1 1/2 miles. My first day of school I fearlessly walked home at noon thinking it was over for the day. Sadly, it was longer and I had many years to go. I don't ever remember being afraid of strangers. I still am not. My first reaction to strangers is curiousity. My experience and my mother's open acceptance of people different from us has left its mark on me.

It is interesting how a few photos can refresh one's memory.

Heidi's New Friend

I have been absent from blogging lately due to having to have a new operating system installed in my computer. I was suffering from "shrinking free space" on my hard drive. I did all the tricks I knew, and could research, to increase the free space, to no avail. I even got rid of some important programs on the computer in order to gain enough space to do emails and the occasional blog entry.

I don't know enough about this aspect of my computer to fully understand it. I finally decided that I had a lot of malware on my computer that was shrinking the space and slowing the computer down. A trip to the tech guy was in order.

I have an illegal version of Windows XP. It was installed once when I had a friend of a friend work on my computer. When I told him, the Tech Guy he said my problem is probably being caused by Microsoft which must be installing malware to corrupt my system and force me to buy a legal copy of their operating system. He also said he would not install any illegal software. Well they won. I did: I paid for a copy to Windows XP. Yesterday, I finally got my computer back and I have been customizing it to my liking ever since.

I have had several ideas for blogs in the last while but as time passed they became less topical so I probably will not post them.

I did want to do something for the 65th Anniversary of D-Day but that got past me, too. I did spend yesterday reading a bit more about this history and watching some of the tributes on TV.
The focus of the Canadian effort on that day was Juno Beach. There is an interesting Canadian Museum there and of course, the Canadian War Cemetery
.
It is a little annoying that the Queen was snubbed by not being invited. It is hard to imagine someone accidentally doing this. The British Royal Family had their finest hours during the war. They stood their ground, stayed with their people and did what they could to inspire and rally the people. Even the princesses, Margaret and Elizabeth, worked to help the injured.

I was also surprised, and disappointed, that Prime Minister Harper went to Normandy for the occasion. He is just Canada's government leader. If you follow what is going on with the British Parliament Prime Minister's are just functionaries that can be sent packing at any time. I think it would have been more appropriate to have the Governor General, The Right Honourable Michaele Jean, represent Canada.

For those who are a students of history the Archives of the CBC is a wonderful place to listen to the old radio broadcasts during the war as well as radio and TV programs about the war. They are all fascinating and a great resource.

I particularly find the German prisoner of war camps in Northern Ontario an interesting story. German prisoners were treated rather well and security was light for to escape a prisoner would have to survive the cold in Winter and the biting flies in the summer. Few prisoners wanted to escape, their war was over and life was pretty good in the camps. Many former prisoners returned to Canada later as landed immigrants. The camp in Kapuskasing was particularly remote. I often wonder what the German prisoners thought when the train passed though our northern town of Swastika
.
It is too bad none of these camps were maintained as museums. Like most building and town in the North, when they have lost their purpose they are torn down. We have lost so many interesting ghost towns this way as forestry and mining operations (and prisoner of war camps) have moved on. Our history is hard to find and appreciate sometimes.

Here are some pictures of Heidi for those of you who enjoy my lovely dog. A small black cat has decided that Heidi and she could be friends. It took a while. At first, Heidi would move or even relocate if the cat got too close. Occasionally, she would vocalize a low throaty sound of warming.
Finally, she came to just ignore the cat.


















Black Cat began by just trying to sleep close on the outside.



















Then she decided it was safe to rest her body up on Heidi.



















Now, like an old married couple Black Cat likes to spoon herself in tight against Heidi.

When outside this little cat comes over and rubs herself against Heidi's legs. I am not sure Heidi share this affection but is willing to accept it. And whenever Heidi takes up her position on the chesterfield it is not l0ng before Black Cat is there too.

Memorial Day, USA

In spite of, or because of, my personal and religious commitment to pacifism I find I am a real softy when it comes to memorials to fallen soldiers. I can remember getting very weeping over lists of soldiers who have died in one conflict of another. And yet, I have never know a person who died in a conflict or even a family that had someone die. I have had a couple of wet eyed moment already today over what I have read and sen on TV.In spite of the fact I would never volunteer to go to war, I admire those who willingly answer their governments call. It is the futility of war and the waste of lies fighting them than make wartime deaths so poignant to me.

There are very few wars that are justified. I do not accept the mythical justifications for them: patriotism, protect our freedom, honour etc. With a little research it is not hard to learn that wars are never fought for the reason used to lead a Nation's young to fight them. Wars are really a testament to the failure of a Nation's political leadership. Wars are fought for lies and usually economic reasons. (So be it. I don't expect anyone to agree with me.) In any case, my cynical views do not diminish the respect I have for those who have fought and died for their government.

I am always impressed with the respect Europeans have for the sacrifices of foreign soldiers in the First and Second World Wars. They are the ones who can justifiably claim their freedom was paid for by the sacrifice of soldiers who stepped up. This is particularly true in the Netherlands. The Dutch have never forgotten the debt they feel they owe others. Yearly they celebrate their liberation by the Canadians, Americans and British. They teach it to their children and now the grandchildren and great grandchildren of those liberated are remembering.

I don't thinks Americans fully appreciate the respect their soldiers are shown in the Netherlands and Belgium as well as other places in Europe. Canadians take some pride in their efforts to liberate the low countries and the special relationship we have had with the Dutch Royal Family. I believe we are more aware of being appreciated. Each year memorial services are held and cemetaries are visited remembering the soldiers who died and were buried in their country.

















Margraten Cemetary in the Netherlands

Margraten Cemetary is the largest American War Cemetary in the Netherlands. It holds the graves of 8301 American soldiers and 1700 missing from the Battle of Arnhem.

Since the Second World War individuals have adopted particular graves and visited, tended the grave and remembered the soldiers over the years. Some have even maintained a relationship with the soldiers relatives over the years. There actually is a waiting list to adopt a grave, remarkably after all these years. Here is a story from Radio Netherlands International. It is interesting to visit on the Internet the War Cemetaries in Europe. I recommend it if you are interested at all in history.

It would ber nice for Americans to know that on Memorial Day they are not the only ones to remember and appreciate the death of their soldiers in war.

This Little Piggy. . . .

I hope people found a warm place to curl up in over the past weekend. It was cold and windy here for the Victoria Day Weekend. We even had a few snowflakes. For Canadians this weekend is traditionally the beginning of summer. It is the first weekend to go camping and fishing. There certainly have been a parade of RV's passing by my place on the way to the bush for the myriad of lakes to camp by on the crown land. It is also the first weekend we dare to get into our garden and try to plant some things that a frost won't easily kill. Few Canadians pay much attention to the actual celebration of the birthday of Queen Victoria (which is actually May 24 ) and our present queen, Queen Elizabeth II. There are some public celebrations and fireworks but I think there is more interest in having a long weekend than actually celebrating this historic uniquely Canadian holiday. ( Even Britain does not celebrate this day.) As a shrinking percentage of us with British roots within Canada, I wonder how much long we might seriously recognize this day. French Canadians do not recognize it in Quebec. Also the Inuit of Nunivut don't celebrate it surprisingly as aboriginal people in Canada have a direct and special relationship with the crown. This weekend is often just referred to as Two Four Weekend, a double entendre reference to May 24 and the popular Canadian designation of a case of 24 beer. a two four.

If I remember, when I was a child it was a more important occasion than an opportunity to party with some beer. Or maybe with an English grandmother and a royalist mother I just thought it was more important. We also were not well off enough to have a cottage or even go camping.
How we used to chant, "The 24th of May is the Queen's birthday. If you don't give us a holiday we will all run away." We would have our fireworks in the back yard.

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I had a pig adventure over the weekend that left me exhausted. My Duroc pig, Ruby, slipped out from behind the electric fence. I got up to feed the two sows and realized she was not there. I searched the yard and scanned the adjacent field where I thought she might be.
About 10 o'clock a truck stopped in front of my house and said a large pig was up the road toward town heading my way.

I guess she was heading home. Little did I know!

I drove up the road and found her about 1/2 mile toward town. She was laying along the neighbour's fence enjoying a respite with some cows on the other side. She got up when I arrived and to my delight seemed ready to come home. Even without a little feed to tempt her she followed the car home as a called her with my two calls. " Piggy, piggy, piggy come!" and my irresistable Arkansas Razorback call, "soooo. . .EEEEEE; sooo. . . .EEEE!"

We got home easily. We even slipped by the neigbour's dogs. I counted myself lucky.

I could not get her to cross the line of the fence even when I removed it. She is afraid, very afraid, of the electric fence. So I left her in the yard outside the fence where she seemed content to rest and share her adventure with the other sow, Babe. This did not last long. She seemed to be restless with wanderlust and I saw her heading across the corner of the field toward the road we just came down.

I jumped in the car with some feed in a pail and drove up around the corner to head her off. To make a long story short, I could not turn her around with or without the feed. She was determined to head toward town again. I kept driving by her to intercept her and turn her around in a futile effort. She got back to the place where I found her about an hour earlier, where she stopped to look longingly at the cows on the field.

I did manage to get her moving back toward the house, with great difficulty. As we passed the next farm's lane she headed up it and I could not turn her around. Finally, she took the bush. Out of frustration and exhaustion, I gave up and went home figuring I would hear when someone spotted her. I was not home ten minute and my farm neighbour was at the door and said that the pig was in his front yard and his wife would not be pleased if the pig rooted up the lawn.

Tired and reluctant I said I would come right over. He and his father on their four wheelers helped me get Ruby moving out the lane until she took the swamp next to the road. They buggered off! I followed her into the swamp. I stumbled after her falling on my face in the wet muck a couple of times. We passed out of the swamp onto a small field next to the lane where we went round and round several times. I finally got her on the laneway again, but as we passed the point where she took the swamp before, she took it again. I followed.

Through the swamp she lay down next to the fence around a field of cows. I needed to lie down too. I was exhausted and my arthritic knees were painful. I left her there and went home for a coffee and a rest. Returning, I first went to town to get some gas for the car before resuming my round-up. At the store, I learned that Ruby had been in town overnight and was spotted several places. The owner of the store said the pig scared him when he heard her early in the morning, thinking she was a bear. He did say, "She is a friendly pig. It seems she likes to be around people." It was from there that she was heading home when I first caught up with her a couple of hours earlier.

I returned to where I left the pig lying down and she was gone. I called and called, "Piggy, piggy, piggy, come! and "sooo. . EEEEEE; sooo. .EEEEEE!" with no luck . Home again for some rest.

I was not home more than 10 minutes and the phone rang. The neighbour. on the edge of town, just beyond the neigbour's farm, called and said the pig was in his yard, (about a mile from home). Reluctantly, and even more exhausted, I drove over only to see the pig coming down the road about 1000 feet from the neighour's place. I went and spoke to him and got him to come and help me on the round-up. He came in his ARGO driving behind the pig and I drove in front tempting her with feed. "Piggy, piggy, piggy, come!" "soooo. . . ..EEEEEEE; soooo. . .EEEEEE." She seemed willing to come home again . It went fairly well.

I still could not get her behind the electric fence.

After a short rest, she headed out across the field to pick up the road, again. I followed her onto the field and chased her around and around the small hill on the field managing to keep her from breaking for the road. Finally, ready to drop from exhaustion, (No, not the pig. . .me!) she slipped by me and headed to the road. I headed for the house and the car so I could head her off again. I got June to drive while I struggled to get the pig turned around. We were only about 1/4 of a mile from the house, still adjacent to my land. When we reached the hill in the road she headed into the bush and field to cut across corner toward the house. I followed and June went on to the house. Then she turned and passed me again out to the road heading away from home again. This time I warched her enter another neighbours lane. When I saw that I returned to the house to get June and the car again. I was beyond exhaustion and could not walk after that sow.

We turned into this neighbour's lane and she was lying resting next to his shed, halfway down the lane. The neighbours were there putting in their garden so he helped me get the pig heading out his lane again. I managed to get her up the hill and down the road passed the neighbour's dogs and home at last for the third time.

Still I could not get her behind the electric fence.

There I sat on a five gallon pail with feed on the ground all around me trying to tempt Ruby to cross the line where the fence was previously strung. She would not cross. Babe, the other pig, must have thought it was her special day with all this extra feed to eat. Just as a fellow drove up to return the buck rabbit I loaned him, with whom I was about seek sympathy by teling him my tale of whoa, Ruby dashed across the line onto the inside of the fenced field. Thus ending Ruby's walkabout.

I had spent most of the day chasing a pig. I began to think "To market, to market you will go!" For now, I am still recovering and live in fear of her next bout of wanderlust.

Seven Years Late


It was the British politician, William Gladstone, in the 19th Century who first said, "Justice Delayed is Justice Denied." Three weeks ago, we were reminded of this in the case of
Omar Khadr, a Canadian, being held in the US Guantanamo Prison Camp. He is the last westerner held there and he was a child of 15 when he was sent there seven years ago. Cruelly, he has languished there ignored as a child soldier, at times tortured, denied his rights, and toyed with in the Kangaroo Court the US set up to give the appearance of justice.

Worst still, he has been badly served by the Canadian government, first under the Liberals and now under the Conservatives. They have not stood up for this Canadian child who should have been protected by international laws, of which we and the US are signatories : The Rights of the Child and the Protocol for Child soldiers.

Finally, Justice O"Reilly of the federal court told the Government that they were not doing the moral and legal right thing by ignoring the plight of Omar Khadr. He basically demanded that the Federal Government try to have Omar Khadr repatriated to Canada, where he can be granted justice, a fair trial and rehabilitation as a child soldier.

In a long and scathing judgment the judge laid out the moral and legal requirements on how the Government had not fulfilled its duty toward Omar Khadr.

This pattern of behaviour is not new for the current Conservative government. They have failed to do all that they should be expected to do for Canadians who have been in trouble in foreign countries. I need not remind people at how the government failed Maher Arar. In the end, they were required to pay him $10 million dollars for their neglect and his pain and suffering. Currently, the case of , Canadian Abousfian Abelrazik, trapped in the Canadian Embassy in Sudan, caught up in a catch-22 nightmare in his effort to return to Canada is a horror story prolonged by the lack of moral and legal action by the government.

The case of Omar Khadr is long and complicated. He was originally accused of killing an American soldier among other "crimes". He was with some adults caught up in a firefight with American soldiers. The Amercians resorted in dropping two 5oo pound bombs on the compound the insurgents were in. Omar survived. For year the US claimed, as the last "man" standing he threw the grenade that killed the soldier. Last year, the prosecution accidently let his lawyers see an eye witness report by one of the soldiers which said there was at least one other person alive which the soldier killed and then shot Omar in the back twice, which left him badly wounded. It is unlikely a fair trial would ever convict Omar on this charge. Of course, as a child soldier he should not have been charged at all. He should have been repatriated to his country and undergone rehabilitation.

If you want to watch a short documentary on Omar Khadr's case go here to see one by the CBC that is a little dated but the basic story is told. And Wikipedia has a long report on him.

In the last three weeks their has been silence from the government. In the face of the legal demand that they make an effort to get Omar returned to Canada, they at first said they were going to appeal the decision. All there is is SILENCE. One get the feeling that they are ignoring the court and hope to delay doing what is called for. They can delay long enough that Khadr's case will be restarted June 1 making his return to Canada more difficult.

It is an outrageI The conservative government is being contemptuous of the legal direction from the Federal Court. They have an opportunity to finally do the right thing. With the Obama administration wanting to close down Quantanamo Prison, Canada could help them out by taking Omar Khadr off their hands. As a constitutional lawyer, I am sure Obama knows that his detention is illegal and the US is required to treat him as a child soldier.

We are all shamed by Canada and a Canadian citizen being treated with such contempt, no only by our close neighbour and ally, but by our own government which fails to do what is legal and moral on behalf of one of our children, caught up in the American Gulag.

Happy Mothers' Day

I hope all those who had, or are still enjoying, the adventure of mothering children. . . . all the best today. May you be remembered and appreciated by your children and grand children.

I sent my sister a greeting on this day, as she is the mother of four grown children awaiting her first grandchild. I got an email note back from Spain, where she is treking on the
Camino de Santiago de Compostela, the historic (World Heritage) pilgrimage across Spain. She will certainly remember this Mothers' Day! She is older than I am but obviously in better shape. I am sure she is soaking all the history and scenery up. My sister is a retired history teacher and over the years has traveled a lot. She began her married life with a 15 month travel adventure around the World.

They lived in Switzerland for six months while my brother- in -law took a course. There were the summers her family vacationed in the south of France polishing their French and enjoying that lovely part of France. Then there were the years she was a volunteer for LeLeche League for whom she went to Japan and Botswana to promote breastfeeding. And, there were the vacations in Monserrat, in the Caribbean with "Aunt Margaret", whose property her husband inherited only to have the volcano erupt and destroy a large part of the island and their property.

Now she is retired. It seems she has lots of trips planned. With her daughter working in London, England she travels there as often as possible. Recently she spent time in Ecuador with a Spanish speaking family to learn some basic facility in Spanish. She also took a side trip the the Galapogas Islands. And now, she is trekking in Spain.

Her note said she was presently at the small historic community along the camino called Stella, Spain.

On this day I am thinking of how my mother would have loved to have traveled as Penny has and seen historic and beautiful places. For working class people back then such travel was not commonly done. Besides, she was busy raising three children. She did manage to visit Britain and visit her English relatives and see Stoke- on- Trent where her parents came from. Sadly, she died too young , at 61, and missed out on many retirement years. Not many days slip by that I haven't thought fondly of her since her death in1978. She lives on in so many ways through the lessons and values I learned at her knee.

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