George Smitherman made a public announcement of his marriage and introduced his "husband" to thunderous applause ,at a gathering to celebrate his political career.
He publicly announced the adoption of his first child and was photographed by the media with the infant in his arms.
During his campaign for Mayor, he confided to reporters that he almost missed a candidates meeting because he could not find a baby-sitter.
I'd say he intended his role as mother to be made clear.
I don't think a woman candidate , with an infant , would be making the point during a campaign of competing demands between motherhood and political office.
One must conclude therefore Mr. Smitherman was using marriage and family for political purpose.
The question has been posed ; Who is the arbiter of decency?
Perhaps the better question would be ; what is decent?
Are we not each entitled to formulate a personal standard ?
Did Mr, Smitherman coming from a position of power , get to create the image he thought would appeal to the greatest number ?
It didn't.
Are we entitled to ponder whether, in the circumstances, the adopted children were of no more significance than the image he clearly intended ?
It's a harsh question but some might believe creating an image for the purpose is simply sensible
reasonable, therefore decent, in the circumstance.
Who decides what's decent?
Is decent a question of morality?
Has morality become another archaic concept ? A joke for the late night comedians?
Like personal judgement?
Or professional integrity?
If it isn't written in the office manual , does it count?
Like a Code of Conduct ?
Who gets to write the manual or the Code ?
If had a desperate need to fulfill my life by nurturing a child . a completely natural inclination, and found myself repeatedly denied for no identifiable reason , I would surely want to know the answer.
Tuesday, 31 December 2013
A Conversation Likely to Go Nowhere
I have young friends who crave a child im their livces more than life itself .
Through no fault of theirs, they have not been blessed .
In every way they are suitable parents . a loving home. loving childhood background . means to provide ...financially...socially...culturally
For ten years they have experienced the adoption process with Children's Aid.
Time and again , the choice came down to themselves and one other couple.
Time and again they met the children , twins on one occasion, and ached to hold them in a loving embrace.
Just as often , in the final hour they were informed it was not to be. Someone else was more suitable.
It's a cold ,brutal, inhuman process. Only the compelling need to be parents explainss why anyone would willingly subject themselves to such excruciating emotional turmoil .
George Smitherman , retired Liberal Cabinet Minister, introduced his "husband" at a Liberal fundraiser shortly before he declared as candidate for the office of Mayor of Toronto.
Early in the campaign , he told reporters he almost didn't make it to a campaign meeting. He had difficulty finding a baby-sitter for his newly adopted infant. It's not been much more than three years since and he has a second adopted child.
The public was recently made aware Mr. Smitherman's "husband" has been suffering from severe depression and this week expired in sad but unpublicxised circumstances.
Obviously, there are gaps in the story. Yet it's perfectly clear. It's about more than Mr. Smitherman's
sexual orientation.
So why is a comment from someone whose own life may be filled with sadness be relegated to the status of homophobia ?
If homosexuality is as normal as heterosexuality , why must all conversation be focussed on sexual prediliction?
In these days, when marriage is a choice and "partner " or "significant other " descxribes a relationship, why do homosexuals insist on using hetorosexual terms to describe the relationship. ?
Why do they feel they must? Why use the word "husband" but not the word "wife"?
When Glen Murray resigned from the office of Mayor of Winnipeg , was it mere coincidence he came to Ontario to pick up a Liberal nomination, get elected and become Ontario's Minister of Transportation ?
Was it because he is gay?
Is it O.K. to be prejudicial in favour of homosexual? But not against?
Is a homosexual family unit preferable to a heterosexual faamily unit for adopted children ?
Who makes the decision? A fieldworker of unknown sexual or political persuasion?
Did Glen Murray have a rainbow arching on his Liberal elections signs?
Through no fault of theirs, they have not been blessed .
In every way they are suitable parents . a loving home. loving childhood background . means to provide ...financially...socially...culturally
For ten years they have experienced the adoption process with Children's Aid.
Time and again , the choice came down to themselves and one other couple.
Time and again they met the children , twins on one occasion, and ached to hold them in a loving embrace.
Just as often , in the final hour they were informed it was not to be. Someone else was more suitable.
It's a cold ,brutal, inhuman process. Only the compelling need to be parents explainss why anyone would willingly subject themselves to such excruciating emotional turmoil .
George Smitherman , retired Liberal Cabinet Minister, introduced his "husband" at a Liberal fundraiser shortly before he declared as candidate for the office of Mayor of Toronto.
Early in the campaign , he told reporters he almost didn't make it to a campaign meeting. He had difficulty finding a baby-sitter for his newly adopted infant. It's not been much more than three years since and he has a second adopted child.
The public was recently made aware Mr. Smitherman's "husband" has been suffering from severe depression and this week expired in sad but unpublicxised circumstances.
Obviously, there are gaps in the story. Yet it's perfectly clear. It's about more than Mr. Smitherman's
sexual orientation.
So why is a comment from someone whose own life may be filled with sadness be relegated to the status of homophobia ?
If homosexuality is as normal as heterosexuality , why must all conversation be focussed on sexual prediliction?
In these days, when marriage is a choice and "partner " or "significant other " descxribes a relationship, why do homosexuals insist on using hetorosexual terms to describe the relationship. ?
Why do they feel they must? Why use the word "husband" but not the word "wife"?
When Glen Murray resigned from the office of Mayor of Winnipeg , was it mere coincidence he came to Ontario to pick up a Liberal nomination, get elected and become Ontario's Minister of Transportation ?
Was it because he is gay?
Is it O.K. to be prejudicial in favour of homosexual? But not against?
Is a homosexual family unit preferable to a heterosexual faamily unit for adopted children ?
Who makes the decision? A fieldworker of unknown sexual or political persuasion?
Did Glen Murray have a rainbow arching on his Liberal elections signs?
Monday, 30 December 2013
Christmas 2013.....A Ramble
It will not soon be forgotten. It was a week without communication. No phone. No internet. The car stuck in ice like the Arctic Ocean.
We had no heat or light for a couple of days. But we had hot water and we could cook .We had natural gas. If the power had stayed off any longer, next step was to put food that needed refrigeration outside.
Stephanie had a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. All the characters of Disney land. Put together by candle-light.
I don't like thousand piece puzzles. . It's not just that there are so many pieces unidentifiable . It's the decision to break it up after spending hours putting it to-gether that's hard.
We had to re-schedule the family Christmas gathering. That was the day of the ice storm. We gathered yesterday.
On Christmas Day, I went to Barrie , to Martin and Marnie's house. It has become a tradition.
They had no power disruptions. Barrie always gets everything.
The countryside looked like another planet. Landmarks were undistinguishable.
Nobody on the media was talking about global warming.
My street is a scene of devastation. Never happened before.
Grandson Cameron lives in a condo on the sixteenth floor of a building in Toronto. Elevator operated by generator. No water.
Places in Toronto are still without power.
Toronto's Mayor was on T.V. providing bulletins.
Deputy-Mayor was there too. He had been in Florida.
The media reported criticism of Deputy. Then said he didn't need to apologize for visiting his elderly sister who was ill.
But they told he was in Florida in the first place. In the second place, nothing was known about his sister. It never was their business.
Deputy-Mayor said it didn't matter he was in Florida because he was in touch with the city at all times. Neither did that make a difference
The Mayor was apparently on the job at all times.
Both were at the press conference.
What a farce !!!''
They say 20% of Toronto's urban forest has been lost. to the ice storm. Including trees injected to save them from the pesky little beetle from Korea.
How many millions have been spent to protect trees from a natural predator?
How loud will be the lament about cost to replace trees destroyed by natural devastation?\
Oops !! same thing !!! Right!
Just turned on T.V. for an update on Toronto's situation.
Watched an interview with Toronto's Police Chief.
Asked about his "disappointed" reference to Toronto's Mayor...theoretically....from a public perspective.... his boss..... he denied political implications.
He said it was an honest answer to a question. He accepted no responsibility for public reaction to his comment that he was disappointed.
Three thoughts occur:
First; is expectation of judgement from a police chief an archaic concept?
Second; does professional integrity have no place in modern society? Is it just another relic of times past?
Third; Does Toronto Police Department function under the authority of a Police Governing Board?If so , where are they?
We had no heat or light for a couple of days. But we had hot water and we could cook .We had natural gas. If the power had stayed off any longer, next step was to put food that needed refrigeration outside.
Stephanie had a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. All the characters of Disney land. Put together by candle-light.
I don't like thousand piece puzzles. . It's not just that there are so many pieces unidentifiable . It's the decision to break it up after spending hours putting it to-gether that's hard.
We had to re-schedule the family Christmas gathering. That was the day of the ice storm. We gathered yesterday.
On Christmas Day, I went to Barrie , to Martin and Marnie's house. It has become a tradition.
They had no power disruptions. Barrie always gets everything.
The countryside looked like another planet. Landmarks were undistinguishable.
Nobody on the media was talking about global warming.
My street is a scene of devastation. Never happened before.
Grandson Cameron lives in a condo on the sixteenth floor of a building in Toronto. Elevator operated by generator. No water.
Places in Toronto are still without power.
Toronto's Mayor was on T.V. providing bulletins.
Deputy-Mayor was there too. He had been in Florida.
The media reported criticism of Deputy. Then said he didn't need to apologize for visiting his elderly sister who was ill.
But they told he was in Florida in the first place. In the second place, nothing was known about his sister. It never was their business.
Deputy-Mayor said it didn't matter he was in Florida because he was in touch with the city at all times. Neither did that make a difference
The Mayor was apparently on the job at all times.
Both were at the press conference.
What a farce !!!''
They say 20% of Toronto's urban forest has been lost. to the ice storm. Including trees injected to save them from the pesky little beetle from Korea.
How many millions have been spent to protect trees from a natural predator?
How loud will be the lament about cost to replace trees destroyed by natural devastation?\
Oops !! same thing !!! Right!
Just turned on T.V. for an update on Toronto's situation.
Watched an interview with Toronto's Police Chief.
Asked about his "disappointed" reference to Toronto's Mayor...theoretically....from a public perspective.... his boss..... he denied political implications.
He said it was an honest answer to a question. He accepted no responsibility for public reaction to his comment that he was disappointed.
Three thoughts occur:
First; is expectation of judgement from a police chief an archaic concept?
Second; does professional integrity have no place in modern society? Is it just another relic of times past?
Third; Does Toronto Police Department function under the authority of a Police Governing Board?If so , where are they?
Sunday, 22 December 2013
Random Memories
To-day was to be the family Christmas Gathering. It had to be re-scheduled . Obviously because of the weather.
We 've heard from all except the Kitchener satellite. Power is out over there but Mary has a cell phone like a mini computer that works on a battery.
Christmas always makes me think back. Right now, I"m thinking of my father on his weekly visit to his parents. I was small enough to ride on his shoulders, my two sisters and brother walked alongside.
It must have been six miles there and back up th brae and across the moor. The last part was up the Course Hill in Kilwinning. My mother never came. Nothing needs to be made of that. The tradition was and still is that each sibling had a particular day to visit parents.
New Year was everybody's night; except for children.
At my maternal grandmother's house . Saturday was Aunt Jean's day and Monday was Aunr Mary's. The first part of Aunt Meg's married life was taken up by the war .She lived at Grannie's for the duration with my infant cousin Anne.
My paternal grandparent's house was full as well. Aunts Maggie and Kate and my father were married. The rest were still at home.
They were Mary, Michael, Bill, Pat, Tom. and David, also called Sonny because he was the youngest.
Michael was an apprentice baker. On one visit. he baked us a fruit cake. It's not a Christmas cake . That's a Black Bun. The fruit cake he baked had a mixture of moist spicey dried and candied fruit between two layers of pastry sprinkled with sugar on op. It could be puff pastry or short. Short is easier to make.
Mary played piano and a harp. and entertained us.
Mary was expelled by the nuns from St. Michael's College for playing piano to silent movies in Green's picture house . Clearly the place was a den of iniquity.
Ten years later , Mary died in childbirth with her first child. Her parents didn't even know she was in labour.
There were no telephones . A relative came to tell Mary had died and the baby too. I was seven then.
Homes were lit by gas mantle and cooking done on a coal range. The last time I hung a stocking, it was from the cord that stretched across the smoke board. That was part of the range that slid up or down ,depending on the direction of the wind outside that made smoke blow down the chimney into the room.
The last doll I had poked out from the sock top. It was a small sock .It must have been a small doll. It was a sixpenny Woolworth doll. I washed her clothes and pot them back on the doll wet. Her body , being made of paper composition , collapsed.
She wasn't the only doll I ever had . Just the only one I remember.
My father got a bicycle when they came on the market. Sunday visits to his parents were no longer a day long expedition. They were in the evening. I remember the lamp being primed with a material I think was asbestos. It was a miner's lamp. There were no batteries then.
My last memory of those times was begging him to take me along with him to Grannie's house.
I was seven when my mother took us to live at my maternal grandparent's home. It wasn't large but they had big hearts.
My Finnigan grandparents became strangers after that .
Life changed in other ways as well
We 've heard from all except the Kitchener satellite. Power is out over there but Mary has a cell phone like a mini computer that works on a battery.
Christmas always makes me think back. Right now, I"m thinking of my father on his weekly visit to his parents. I was small enough to ride on his shoulders, my two sisters and brother walked alongside.
It must have been six miles there and back up th brae and across the moor. The last part was up the Course Hill in Kilwinning. My mother never came. Nothing needs to be made of that. The tradition was and still is that each sibling had a particular day to visit parents.
New Year was everybody's night; except for children.
At my maternal grandmother's house . Saturday was Aunt Jean's day and Monday was Aunr Mary's. The first part of Aunt Meg's married life was taken up by the war .She lived at Grannie's for the duration with my infant cousin Anne.
My paternal grandparent's house was full as well. Aunts Maggie and Kate and my father were married. The rest were still at home.
They were Mary, Michael, Bill, Pat, Tom. and David, also called Sonny because he was the youngest.
Michael was an apprentice baker. On one visit. he baked us a fruit cake. It's not a Christmas cake . That's a Black Bun. The fruit cake he baked had a mixture of moist spicey dried and candied fruit between two layers of pastry sprinkled with sugar on op. It could be puff pastry or short. Short is easier to make.
Mary played piano and a harp. and entertained us.
Mary was expelled by the nuns from St. Michael's College for playing piano to silent movies in Green's picture house . Clearly the place was a den of iniquity.
Ten years later , Mary died in childbirth with her first child. Her parents didn't even know she was in labour.
There were no telephones . A relative came to tell Mary had died and the baby too. I was seven then.
Homes were lit by gas mantle and cooking done on a coal range. The last time I hung a stocking, it was from the cord that stretched across the smoke board. That was part of the range that slid up or down ,depending on the direction of the wind outside that made smoke blow down the chimney into the room.
The last doll I had poked out from the sock top. It was a small sock .It must have been a small doll. It was a sixpenny Woolworth doll. I washed her clothes and pot them back on the doll wet. Her body , being made of paper composition , collapsed.
She wasn't the only doll I ever had . Just the only one I remember.
My father got a bicycle when they came on the market. Sunday visits to his parents were no longer a day long expedition. They were in the evening. I remember the lamp being primed with a material I think was asbestos. It was a miner's lamp. There were no batteries then.
My last memory of those times was begging him to take me along with him to Grannie's house.
I was seven when my mother took us to live at my maternal grandparent's home. It wasn't large but they had big hearts.
My Finnigan grandparents became strangers after that .
Life changed in other ways as well
About Twitter and Such
I deleted the last post.
It hasn't been easy maintaining silence over the past four years.
When the trial started ,I thought it was the beginning of the end.
After four weeks , once again it came to an abrupt halt although not a conclusion.
I won't pretend it hasn't been stressful. No- one should imagine I am without opinion.
But i history will take its course and it will come to a conclusion , Then we will be free to talk aboit this chapter .
In the meantime , Im happy to receive your comments and if I don't publish them I hope you understand.
That doesn't apply of course to the snarks who lurk abaout in the shadows..
The last four weeks I've been more or less pre-occupied .
I had a bout of bronchitis for a week . Thank Goodness for antibiotics. I missed a couple of Council meetings but was back at it on Tuesday and Wednesday and very glad to be there.
Margaret Atwood is talking to Peter Mansbridge about Twitter. I must listen to this.
Council and thetown's business has helped keep me focussed over all this long time I daresay I can maintain the discipline for the weeks remaining.
It hasn't been easy maintaining silence over the past four years.
When the trial started ,I thought it was the beginning of the end.
After four weeks , once again it came to an abrupt halt although not a conclusion.
I won't pretend it hasn't been stressful. No- one should imagine I am without opinion.
But i history will take its course and it will come to a conclusion , Then we will be free to talk aboit this chapter .
In the meantime , Im happy to receive your comments and if I don't publish them I hope you understand.
That doesn't apply of course to the snarks who lurk abaout in the shadows..
The last four weeks I've been more or less pre-occupied .
I had a bout of bronchitis for a week . Thank Goodness for antibiotics. I missed a couple of Council meetings but was back at it on Tuesday and Wednesday and very glad to be there.
Margaret Atwood is talking to Peter Mansbridge about Twitter. I must listen to this.
Council and thetown's business has helped keep me focussed over all this long time I daresay I can maintain the discipline for the weeks remaining.
Friday, 20 December 2013
Something went awry
I wrote a post. I gave it a title. I clicked on edit to make some necessary changes.apparently so necessary the whole thing deleted and I had to start again.
Sorry about that.
Sorry about that.
Wednesday, 18 December 2013
An Unlikely Story
I've always known I would tell this story. I never knew when. It's not really mine to tell.
So it has to be slightly obscure.
A youth with a friend , partied in Newmarket. At the end of the evening, they called a taxi for the ride home to Aurora. Neither had cars, so it wasn't a matter of choice or judgement.
Waiting for the taxi, they were joined by three other youths who asked if they could share the cab home.
On arrival at destination, the three jumped out and ran without paying their share.
The friend ,seeing what happened, thought he ought to take off as well.
The fifth ,drunk as a skunk ,groping in tight jeans pocket for what he knew was enough to pay his share, was left swaying on his feet.
The fare was $11. He had $7. He decided he'd better run.
He fell. Got kicked in the side of the head, in his ear. steel toed boots, by cab driver and dragged back to the cab where call placed to York Region Police.
Police arrived. He was shoved into the back of the police car.
Youth charged with intent to commit fraud.
Fraud is an indictable offence , meaning it carries the penalty of a jail sentence and a record.
Parent ,finally informed ,seeks legal counsel.
Lawyer's office , painted dark green. Hunting prints on wall. Lawyer in tweeds ,pince nez,short beard neatly trimmed and desk lamp with green shade on impressive leather -topped desk.
Queen's counsel.
Lengthy conference. Strategy outlined . Separate the friends. Seek a different judge's court. Knows the judge. Plead leniency for first offence. One and a half hours into conference, no fee cited. But preparation continues.
Finally .....fee cited.
High. Even without knowing how time passes in a court room. Fee exorbitant. Added to the certain knowledge that whatever the offense to be defended .....it was not fraud......Intent to commit requires competence.
Being drunk eliminates the possibility.
Another lawyer consulted. Answer sought to question. Police officer responsible for the charge. Crown attorney responsible for prosecution.
At what point does C.A. examine evidence and determine charge can be successfully prosecuted.?
Lawyer swings chair around to face wall lined with law books as though seeking the answer,
"Good question" he responds . but does not answer.
Fee is a third of Queen's counsel.
First day in court, nothing accomplished Previous case went overtime. Judge decided too late to start
new case. Wags finger sternly at miscreant youth and warns him to be in court promptly at the precise time ,on the following day...like failure to proceed on appointed day is youth's fault.
A day's pay and lawyer's fee out of pocket and little assurance the process will not be repeated.
Time spent watching court proceedings revealed another being represented by agent.
Parent decides to act as agent. Youth informs C.A. In turn C.A. informs Judge of wish to dismiss
legal counsel and be represented by agent. Stern Judge indicates youth should make the request himself.
Agent visits CA 's office; request to see charge.
Refused.
Visits police station, requests to see charge..
Refused.
Visit with Police Chief. Assured of unlikelihood of jail time due to first offence.
To cut a very long story shorter, parent defends youth against charge of fraud.
Cites definition of the crime of fraud straight from law books in the library on the top floor of the almost new court house.
Stern lecture yo youth from judge about bad behaviour being a problem for society , but not fraud. Charge dismissed.
Parent leaves court house not proud of youth.
But also less than impressed by behaviour of individuals consulted with objective of obtaining a correct ruling on a wrongful charge.
Sequel! information provided not previously confided.
In the police car , with his ear bleeding, youth informed officer of intent to file assault charge against taxi driver.
Officer advised he could not do that.
Youth informed officer, parent would not be pleased about that.
Further inquiry resulted in car parked and further beating .
Between night and morning , the charge was changed from minor to an indictable offence with possibility of jail time or at very least a record.
With a friend ,he hired a cab. He had his share of the fare. He was most inebriated.
Guilty of nothing but severely impaired judgement.
Certainly, in accordance with evidence, not capable of a plan to commit fraud.
Moral of the story. If your kid gets in trouble. Remember...Remember.... possibility is more real than apparent
Listen to what he tells you.
No matter how incredible it may seem.
So it has to be slightly obscure.
A youth with a friend , partied in Newmarket. At the end of the evening, they called a taxi for the ride home to Aurora. Neither had cars, so it wasn't a matter of choice or judgement.
Waiting for the taxi, they were joined by three other youths who asked if they could share the cab home.
On arrival at destination, the three jumped out and ran without paying their share.
The friend ,seeing what happened, thought he ought to take off as well.
The fifth ,drunk as a skunk ,groping in tight jeans pocket for what he knew was enough to pay his share, was left swaying on his feet.
The fare was $11. He had $7. He decided he'd better run.
He fell. Got kicked in the side of the head, in his ear. steel toed boots, by cab driver and dragged back to the cab where call placed to York Region Police.
Police arrived. He was shoved into the back of the police car.
Youth charged with intent to commit fraud.
Fraud is an indictable offence , meaning it carries the penalty of a jail sentence and a record.
Parent ,finally informed ,seeks legal counsel.
Lawyer's office , painted dark green. Hunting prints on wall. Lawyer in tweeds ,pince nez,short beard neatly trimmed and desk lamp with green shade on impressive leather -topped desk.
Queen's counsel.
Lengthy conference. Strategy outlined . Separate the friends. Seek a different judge's court. Knows the judge. Plead leniency for first offence. One and a half hours into conference, no fee cited. But preparation continues.
Finally .....fee cited.
High. Even without knowing how time passes in a court room. Fee exorbitant. Added to the certain knowledge that whatever the offense to be defended .....it was not fraud......Intent to commit requires competence.
Being drunk eliminates the possibility.
Another lawyer consulted. Answer sought to question. Police officer responsible for the charge. Crown attorney responsible for prosecution.
At what point does C.A. examine evidence and determine charge can be successfully prosecuted.?
Lawyer swings chair around to face wall lined with law books as though seeking the answer,
"Good question" he responds . but does not answer.
Fee is a third of Queen's counsel.
First day in court, nothing accomplished Previous case went overtime. Judge decided too late to start
new case. Wags finger sternly at miscreant youth and warns him to be in court promptly at the precise time ,on the following day...like failure to proceed on appointed day is youth's fault.
A day's pay and lawyer's fee out of pocket and little assurance the process will not be repeated.
Time spent watching court proceedings revealed another being represented by agent.
Parent decides to act as agent. Youth informs C.A. In turn C.A. informs Judge of wish to dismiss
legal counsel and be represented by agent. Stern Judge indicates youth should make the request himself.
Agent visits CA 's office; request to see charge.
Refused.
Visits police station, requests to see charge..
Refused.
Visit with Police Chief. Assured of unlikelihood of jail time due to first offence.
To cut a very long story shorter, parent defends youth against charge of fraud.
Cites definition of the crime of fraud straight from law books in the library on the top floor of the almost new court house.
Stern lecture yo youth from judge about bad behaviour being a problem for society , but not fraud. Charge dismissed.
Parent leaves court house not proud of youth.
But also less than impressed by behaviour of individuals consulted with objective of obtaining a correct ruling on a wrongful charge.
Sequel! information provided not previously confided.
In the police car , with his ear bleeding, youth informed officer of intent to file assault charge against taxi driver.
Officer advised he could not do that.
Youth informed officer, parent would not be pleased about that.
Further inquiry resulted in car parked and further beating .
Between night and morning , the charge was changed from minor to an indictable offence with possibility of jail time or at very least a record.
With a friend ,he hired a cab. He had his share of the fare. He was most inebriated.
Guilty of nothing but severely impaired judgement.
Certainly, in accordance with evidence, not capable of a plan to commit fraud.
Moral of the story. If your kid gets in trouble. Remember...Remember.... possibility is more real than apparent
Listen to what he tells you.
No matter how incredible it may seem.
Sunday, 15 December 2013
Tidings of Comfort and Joy
I had a Christmas card from my friend in Scotland on Friday. We've been friends since we were five years old ,when we started school.
Grade Two was our happiest, most carefree year. Miss Kelly was our teacher.
She was young and pretty with masses of black curly hair.
Annie Wolohan and I sat together at a double desk. We got to squeeze out sponges in the jam jars on the window sill and go round the class wiping slates clean . We got other neat little chores to do as well. When new slate pencils had to be distributed , we slid the lid off the box and caught the scent of fresh cedar shavings that kept the pencils whole and still remind me of those happy days.
We lived close by each other. Our family environments were substantially different but we practically shared each other's lives. We both had sisters but we were closer to one another than we were to our sisters.
Life separated us early but we always knew we were still best friends.
Bobby Gibson is Anne's husband . She loved him since she was thirteen. There was a point when they separated. He went into the navy. Ann was a bus conductor for years. I went to London after the war.
Ann got engaged to someone else. I never knew him.
Bobby's ship was shelled on the Yangtse River . The crew who survived had to swim ashore and went missing for a bit.
Ann knew then she could not spend her life with anyone else.
They've been married now more than sixty years. Like everyone else , they had their troubles.
They were in Canada for a while. In Vancouver. Bobby liked it. Ann persuaded him to come to live in Toronto. They stayed with us for a bit. Then she went back in Scotland and Bobby followed .
They've been there ever since.
I was in Scotland in the early nineties for several months taking care of my mother. One day after I'd
been hanging out laundry, in the sunshine , with a stiff sea breeze blowing. Ann came and knocked on my mother's door.
"I thought it was you " she said. She had been looking out her kitchen window and couldn't believe her eyes.
We were s close as ever again for a few months. We have exchanged Christmas cards faithfully and news of our families ever since.
I received her card on Friday without much news and just hoping we are all well.
She knew I was still involved in the town's political affairs. She didn't know I was suing .
It's too late now to send a Christmas card. They had to give up the phone a few years ago.
So I won't be able to say where it's at now or that everything's fine at my end.
Which is as good a way as any I suppose, of wishing her a Merry Christmas, Happy New Year
and Tidings of Comfort and Joy.
Grade Two was our happiest, most carefree year. Miss Kelly was our teacher.
She was young and pretty with masses of black curly hair.
Annie Wolohan and I sat together at a double desk. We got to squeeze out sponges in the jam jars on the window sill and go round the class wiping slates clean . We got other neat little chores to do as well. When new slate pencils had to be distributed , we slid the lid off the box and caught the scent of fresh cedar shavings that kept the pencils whole and still remind me of those happy days.
We lived close by each other. Our family environments were substantially different but we practically shared each other's lives. We both had sisters but we were closer to one another than we were to our sisters.
Life separated us early but we always knew we were still best friends.
Bobby Gibson is Anne's husband . She loved him since she was thirteen. There was a point when they separated. He went into the navy. Ann was a bus conductor for years. I went to London after the war.
Ann got engaged to someone else. I never knew him.
Bobby's ship was shelled on the Yangtse River . The crew who survived had to swim ashore and went missing for a bit.
Ann knew then she could not spend her life with anyone else.
They've been married now more than sixty years. Like everyone else , they had their troubles.
They were in Canada for a while. In Vancouver. Bobby liked it. Ann persuaded him to come to live in Toronto. They stayed with us for a bit. Then she went back in Scotland and Bobby followed .
They've been there ever since.
I was in Scotland in the early nineties for several months taking care of my mother. One day after I'd
been hanging out laundry, in the sunshine , with a stiff sea breeze blowing. Ann came and knocked on my mother's door.
"I thought it was you " she said. She had been looking out her kitchen window and couldn't believe her eyes.
We were s close as ever again for a few months. We have exchanged Christmas cards faithfully and news of our families ever since.
I received her card on Friday without much news and just hoping we are all well.
She knew I was still involved in the town's political affairs. She didn't know I was suing .
It's too late now to send a Christmas card. They had to give up the phone a few years ago.
So I won't be able to say where it's at now or that everything's fine at my end.
Which is as good a way as any I suppose, of wishing her a Merry Christmas, Happy New Year
and Tidings of Comfort and Joy.
Friday, 13 December 2013
Sweden has it right ...I think
I thought it would be done by now. It isn't. And will not be until "early in the New Year"
It's best I don't print comments on the trial until it's over. Much as I appreciate the support therein.
But there are things we can talk about . We've spent a lot of time waiting . Considering the surroundings , some trains of thought are inevitable.
Over the years, I've found myself in a court room on a number of occasions. Some I'd forgotten.
One occasion was in a court room in Leksand, Sweden. I went on a charter with StAndrew's College band. They were invited by high schools in Sweden. The charter was a few heads short of the number required/. The late Norm Stewart was a Councillor and at the same time the dietuician at St. Andrew's.
Former and late Richard Illingworth,his partner; the late Col. Fred Tilston, the late Colleen Gowan , town clerk and a personal friend and myself ; the late Councillor Norm Stewart all went along to make up the numbers.
It was a highly informative trip.
We had a day in court.
A Saturday.
The Judge explained the Swedish judicial system .
When a person graduates from studies in law, the judiciary is a field among others to choose from.
He/she works in the court. Eventually minor cases are assigned to the fledgeling Judge.
A panel of senior Judges monitor decisions.
A Judge sits on the bench with an equal number of citizens on either side. Decisions are made
collectively. Judge advising citizens on points of law.
More serious cases are assigned as judgement and competence matures.
I do not offer this as a full account of the Swedish judicial system.
My impression is, the system is a reflection of sober, serious, conscientious attitudes and respect for law and order of the community at large.
I came away with huge respect for Swedish society.
It's best I don't print comments on the trial until it's over. Much as I appreciate the support therein.
But there are things we can talk about . We've spent a lot of time waiting . Considering the surroundings , some trains of thought are inevitable.
Over the years, I've found myself in a court room on a number of occasions. Some I'd forgotten.
One occasion was in a court room in Leksand, Sweden. I went on a charter with StAndrew's College band. They were invited by high schools in Sweden. The charter was a few heads short of the number required/. The late Norm Stewart was a Councillor and at the same time the dietuician at St. Andrew's.
Former and late Richard Illingworth,his partner; the late Col. Fred Tilston, the late Colleen Gowan , town clerk and a personal friend and myself ; the late Councillor Norm Stewart all went along to make up the numbers.
It was a highly informative trip.
We had a day in court.
A Saturday.
The Judge explained the Swedish judicial system .
When a person graduates from studies in law, the judiciary is a field among others to choose from.
He/she works in the court. Eventually minor cases are assigned to the fledgeling Judge.
A panel of senior Judges monitor decisions.
A Judge sits on the bench with an equal number of citizens on either side. Decisions are made
collectively. Judge advising citizens on points of law.
More serious cases are assigned as judgement and competence matures.
I do not offer this as a full account of the Swedish judicial system.
My impression is, the system is a reflection of sober, serious, conscientious attitudes and respect for law and order of the community at large.
I came away with huge respect for Swedish society.
Wednesday, 11 December 2013
I've Missed You Too
My day in court has turned into a marathon. It's not over yet.
Nothing is happening
to-day.
I am physically free.
I have missed being here with you.
I'm not sure I will ever be able to fill in the gaps of what has happened. I cannot provide any details yet.
I am not the person I was before. Time and experience have changed me. Not by much and not so's you'd notice but change there is.
I had to re- read hundreds of my blog posts.
I never re-read.
When I've done with a post I put it behind me and move on to the next.
A minimum of editing is done.
Spelling needs correction because keyboard skills are negligible .
But some errors always remain.
They are exasperating.
Welllllll..... It's not a professional staff report. it's not a legal deposition. I'm not competing for the Giller Book Prize.
I'm just gossiping and sharing stuff I think you have a right to know and I have a right to tell you.
Going to court is not the stuff of tout le monde
And yet....of a weekday morning....the place teams with people with business before the courts.
None of it joyful.
Decisions are made affecting people's lives .
Yesterday we saw a young man in his early twenties, wrists and ankles manacled and a policeman on either side of him.
Decisions are made in sound-proofed courtrooms.
We hope they are fair. We hope they are just.
We are not certain.
I heard recently the Government of Sweden is contemplating closing down the prisons.
There are not enough prisoners in Sweden to keep them open.
They must be doing something right.
Nothing is happening
to-day.
I am physically free.
I have missed being here with you.
I'm not sure I will ever be able to fill in the gaps of what has happened. I cannot provide any details yet.
I am not the person I was before. Time and experience have changed me. Not by much and not so's you'd notice but change there is.
I had to re- read hundreds of my blog posts.
I never re-read.
When I've done with a post I put it behind me and move on to the next.
A minimum of editing is done.
Spelling needs correction because keyboard skills are negligible .
But some errors always remain.
They are exasperating.
Welllllll..... It's not a professional staff report. it's not a legal deposition. I'm not competing for the Giller Book Prize.
I'm just gossiping and sharing stuff I think you have a right to know and I have a right to tell you.
Going to court is not the stuff of tout le monde
And yet....of a weekday morning....the place teams with people with business before the courts.
None of it joyful.
Decisions are made affecting people's lives .
Yesterday we saw a young man in his early twenties, wrists and ankles manacled and a policeman on either side of him.
Decisions are made in sound-proofed courtrooms.
We hope they are fair. We hope they are just.
We are not certain.
I heard recently the Government of Sweden is contemplating closing down the prisons.
There are not enough prisoners in Sweden to keep them open.
They must be doing something right.
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