Underneath The Arches

My computer is on a desk against a wall. A window above it is filled with the middle part of a maple tree planted within weeks of coming to live in the house by my two sons. Maples almost as big are in the gardens on either side and in the one behind mine. I think they grew from seeds cast by my tree.

I've dug saplings out of my garden to be transplanted on properties of my children. The parks department have cut down growth from the lane abutting my home. With no-one to pull them , dig them or cut them to the ground, this small neck of Aurora would undoubtedly have become yet another maple bush without the help of man.

My neighbourhood was a farm. No trees had to be removed to make way for houses. The variety of birds staking their territory continues to increase. It is true a person can attract birds and butterflies by choosing specific plantings.Woodpeckers arrive when trees mature.

Human habitat does not damage the environment. Skunks, raccoons, rabbits. squirrels and chipmunks are not that particular. They are happy to share our space. Our homes too, if we make the mistake of allowing entry.

Ivor Tossel, the young journalist who wrote the story in the Globe and Mail about our "dysfunctional suburb' sat in the shade of that maple tree on my deck for almost a whole afternoon. It's pleasant and hard to leave.

He lives in the Beaches with his wife in Toronto. That's nice too. My boys and I spent our first three Canadian summers on Kew Beach.

Ivor came down from Saulte St Marie to make his living . He worked on the Aurora story for months and he did a fine job. As good as anybody, who has to sort out different perspectives, take sense from it and paint a whole picture from a snap shot.

The most difficult thing about writing a story like that would have to be choosing what to include and exclude from material collected.

He must have come to one of our concerts in the park on a Wednesday evening.

Now that is due diligence.

It's a shame the story isn't complimentary. Of course, if it was, it would not be news story.

For the record, I do not carry loathing in my heart for any human being. It's a needless and heavy burden.

Politics is in me. I suspect it always has been. It is not an easy row to hoe. People handle it differently.

I was elected Councillor shortly after I arrived in Aurora and I was Mayor within six years after that. I know how it feels to be chosen for the office and how it feels to be dumped ignominiously.It is so-o-o-o-o public.

I know what it takes to massage an image to the point where no-one dares criticise. I didn't do that. I didn't have what it takes.

Politics is like many areas of endeavour. Only those who do it, know what it takes to do it. True students of the art tend not to throw gratuitous criticism about willy-nilly. It tends to come back ....like a boomerang.

In that spirit, at the start of the term, I offered Mayor Morris the benefit of my experience. Before it became clear how much work had gone in to ensuring my defeat which became evident with the continued effort to render me irrelevant on Council.

I trust people until I am given a reason not to. I never trust after that. .

Still, if rules of order are observed at council meetings , no place exists for personal enmity to emerge or grow. It doesn't reflect well on anybody.

However, in Mayor Morris' council, no rules are observed. No holds barred.

Nada...Zilch...Amen my friend.

Baiting and abusing staff, maligning former Council members, in particular Mayor Jones, became an added feature which really brought out the worst in me.

We had a four year term. A single voice doesn't resonate. It had to be fight or flight. Flight was never an option.

Modern technology provided the weapon for defence.

Mayor Morris is the first Mayor in Aurora's history having to contend with modern technology. Failure to recognise the dynamics was a serious oversight.

I am the first Aurora Councillor to use it. But not without previously honed skills.

I have this notion that life is like a jig-saw puzzle with pieces scattered about on a card table. Invisible hands hover, waiting to move the pieces into place. At the right time, the pieces always move into the right place.

My children are concerned about my decision to take legal action against the Mayor and her five dedicated supporters. I don't take it lightly.

But there comes a time... when it is time.