What Do You See?

I see nature winning,
And man failing.

I see a world suffice unto itself.
Oceans and plants and crawling things
All of whom
Would be better off without us.

I see humanity,
That puffed-up peacock of the animal world,
Building monuments to nothing
But our own vanity.

I see blue skies and green trees
Towering mountains and vast seas
And humans too stupid to
Appreciate any of it.

I see nature winning,
And man failing.

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Defunct stone fountain, Guernsey.

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Standing Guard

There’s a line in our national anthem…

O Canada, we stand on guard for thee

To my mind, those words aren’t about protecting our borders — they’re about protecting each other.

We are Canada.

All of us.

Unfortunately, we here in Ontario have been caught asleep at our posts. The conservative provincial government has rolled back sex education to where it stood in 1998.

They scrapped the sex ed program the liberals put in place in 2015 because apparently,  our kids don’t have to learn about consent, same-sex relationships, gender identity, online bullying or sexting.

Did I mention masturbation? 

No? Neither does Doug Ford’s 1998 retro program.

British Columbia, marching to the beat of different drummer, stands on guard for all its students.

Unlike Ontario, B.C. is not trying to turn the clock backward.  In 2016, they instituted SOGI — sexual orientation and gender identity program — with the goal of helping LGBTQ students and ending bullying based on gender identity.

Is the B.C. government getting flak from some parents and religious groups arguing that SOGI is “sexualizing our kids” and “telling them they are gender fluid”? Yes.

There were dueling rallies on the lawn of the legislature this past September, groups for and against SOGI shouting over each other.

Is the government backing down? No.

The province is committed to ensuring that every school is a safe space for all children.

The license plate says it all — Beautiful British Columbia.

Gay Pride In Canada Concept Image - Gay Pride Rainbow Flag And T

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Words Wound

There was a childhood rhyme that used to be bandied about …

Sticks and stones may break my bones, But words will never harm me.

You don’t hear it much anymore, because we know better. Words can and do harm us. Ask any kid being bullied in the schoolyard or on the internet.

Hate speech is a crime for a reason.

Words are powerful. Has there been a revolution ever that didn’t start with words?

Words are tricky. Not only do their meanings change over time, but context and tone come in to play too. Who uses a particular word, and how they use it, makes a difference.

How then do we judge which words are dangerous? Off the top of my head …

Think — less than. 

Any word, or group of words, that label a particular subsection of humanity as less than — those are the words that should never be heard.

I apologize for the preachy tone of this post, but …

I heard a man speak Thursday night, a Holocaust survivor. He ended his presentation by saying:

It starts with words …

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Escape Games

An hour of entertainment or a humbling trip into inadequacy?

Hmmm …

It depends entirely on whether you and your trusty companions manage to escape before the clock ticks down to — you lose.  And BTW, you’re a moron.

Nice, right?

FYI, this is not a game to play with your spouse/partner/anyone you intend to get naked with.

Why not?

Have you ever tried sticking your arm through a hole in a wall and, using a handheld mirror to reflect back the contents of the room on the other side of the wall, find a green button?

That’s the easy part.

The hard part is describing the location of said button to your husband, so that he can stick his arm through an opening cut into a door and hit the button only you can see.

Take it from one who knows, don’t do it.

Apparently, to some people, not naming any names here, the instruction move straight ahead is ambiguous.

We’re not even going to get into the bit where I was too short to see some of the clues and too clueless to get most of the ones I did see.

Considering my abysmal performance, you’d be justified in assuming I won’t be swiping my credit card at one of these escape rooms ever again.

Wrong.

I remain uncowed and unconvinced. I refuse to believe I can’t figure out how to escape … eventually.

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Caveat Emptor

Buyer Beware

Is it just me, or does there seem to be more to be wary of these days?

Scams and schemes abound, from the automated phone calls that threaten you with Revenue Canada if you don’t contact them to the truly horrific bogus kidnapping messages that claim they have your children.

And then there’s the people promising to change your life if you only hand over your wallet.

Case in point, recently I’ve been approached by companies offering to promote one of my books. Sounds good, right?

“You’re book has been recommended to us by …”
“We will flog your book on social media daily …”

I don’t know how much money these companies want because I hang up on them before they get to that point. Am I skeptical?

Hmmm… Am I breathing?

The first solicitor didn’t even know the title of my book. The second one sent me an email that could have used a grammar check.

Hmmm…

One caller said his company was based out of Las Vegas. Really?

So many books out there, so many that never get seen let alone read. Every indie author knows this — so do the companies offering to help you.

Caveat Emptor

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Care

Some days, the news racing across our screens is all bad and the world seems a dark place. Depressing, scary even, but what can we do?

Caught up in the busyness that is our lives, carrying around our own bag of problems, what can any of us do?

Maybe …

Something simple, something small, some one thing that makes a difference to one person.

Hanna Hoswell and Kate Hanafy, paramedics with the Queensland Ambulance Service in Australia, thought to do that one thing that would made a difference to Ron McCartney.

After fighting a seventeen year battle against prostate cancer, Ron was heading back to the hospital for the last time. Hanna and Kate, when told that Ron hadn’t been able to eat anything for two days asked him if he could eat anything right then, what would it be?

His answer: A Caramel Sundae.

En route to the hospital, the paramedics stopped at a McDonald’s and got Ron his sundae.

Ron (2)Picture courtesy of Danielle Smith/Facebook

A small thing, a caring thing —

That sundae was the last thing Ron ate before he passed away.

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Home Away From Home

When you’ve seen enough museums, castles, and churches. When your feet are killing you and you can’t access Google Maps because the battery on your phone has died. When the clouds open up and you left your umbrella in the hotel…

Tourist Overload.

The cure?

Something familiar. Some place that’s just like home.

Don’t think I don’t see the irony here.

We pack our bags and hit the road because we want to see new, different, other — and then all we want is the same old, same old.

Why?

Because being a stranger in a strange land is exhausting. Also interesting, exciting, and amazing, but it fries the brain.

For most North Americans, that little bit of home is a Starbucks or if we’re really desperate a McDonald’s. For Canadians though, nothing says home like Tim’s.

In Belfast, a block or two away from their incredibly beautiful city hall … could it be? Nah. No way, not here.

But, yes. There it was, as Canadian as the Maple Leaf — Tim Hortons in Northern Ireland.

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Did I go in?

Two words for you — French Vanilla 🙂

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Welcome Home

No one says Welcome Home anymore.

In my house, I’m lucky if anyone turns away from the TV for a whole two seconds and tosses a Hi in my direction. No one actually gets up and comes to the door. Basically, I got more enthusiastic welcomes from the dog, but he’s moved out.

Banners say Welcome Home, but unless you’ve been stuck in the hospital for a month or carried a gun somewhere overseas don’t expect anyone to string one up for you anytime soon.

Has this lack of an anachronistic pleasantry darkened my days and ruined my nights? No. I never even thought about it, much less rued its absence, until…

On my way home recently, I asked Google to talk me through the traffic and ever-present construction. Eventually, I pulled into my driveway. My phone said…

Welcome Home.

LOL, literally. Huge smile on my face.

I considered driving around the block just to come back and hear that automated welcome again because—seriously cute.

Who needs people when your phone likes you?  🙂

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