Indolence

February 12:  It’s snowing today. This is not really surprising given that we live in Canada and it’s February 12. This is merely the latest in a series of heavy snow storms and deep-freeze events that we have faced this winter. But I am warm and dry. I have enough food to survive a minor apocalypse, and various electronic media with which to reach the outside world should the need arise. My evening class has been cancelled and I have “nothing to do” for the rest of the day.

That is not to say that I’ll be doing nothing. Rather it is to say that I have no commitments today, and that I am free to do as I wish with my time. No deadlines. No interference.

Since I retired, time has become a luxury. It’s a resource that I can allocate any way I wish, on whatever turns my fancy on a given day. It affords the opportunity to explore what I wish, whenever I wish to do so. The problem I face is indolence.

I do not lack for things that interest me. I have been painting in acrylics for at least 15 years and have a huge stack of useless canvas to show for it. I have been pencil sketching off-and-on for some time, and have recently been doing a small bit of exploration in water-colours. I play electric bass for the New Horizon Band which rehearses on Mondays, and I have been trying ( with limited success ) to get in some more frequent running with my buds from the Running Room. All of these things take a certain amount of commitment and practice. Painting and drawing take technical skills and eye-hand co-ordination that has to be nurtured; playing a musical instrument takes practice. Even running requires some element of thoughtful training if it is to be done effectively.

When a day like today arises it’s not so much about having “nothing to do”, but rather having competing interests to be resolved. I could paint or draw, but that means getting the gear out and finding a place to set up. I need to practice some new pieces for the band, but I hate making mistakes – and practice is all about mistakes – so that’s not really a “fun” way to pass time. It’s too snowy and windy to go running. I have a tendency to postpone actually committing time in favour of doing things to merely pass the time.

I have an image of myself as creative and active, and yet I do relatively little to actually be that person. When I consider the amount of time that I have available to be creative, it feels wasteful to not be more aggressive in filling it with “worthwhile” effort. While time may be abundant in the short term, it is a finite resource that I don’t want to squander on idleness and indolence. At least for today I can say that I was motivated enough to write 500 words on avoiding indolence.

Blue Monday

January 21: The third Monday of January has been identified as the most depressing day of the year. This may be understandable given that the weather has become intolerable for many, the excitement of the holiday season has passed, and the bills are rolling in. It’s instructive to know that Blue Monday was first coined in 2005 by a travel company as a way to promote southern vacations. More recently, the date has become associated with a campaign to promote better mental health practices.

When I was a child growing up in the ’50’s and ’60’s there was very little public acknowledgement of “mental health” as – pardon the pun – a state of mind. It seemed that people were either “crazy” and put in a psychiatric hospital or they were “well”. The former psychiatric hospital on Queen Street was such a forbidding place that it was known by it’s street number alone: 999.* As a child, “mental illness” conjured images of violence, of people constrained in darkened hallways and cells; it was a thing to be feared.

It certainly did not conjure the image of a genteel summer gathering to celebrate the wedding anniversary of my grandparents. Yet here we are in 1962 with my grandparents on either end; their children and spouses toward the rear, and the children of my generation gathered at the front. For that split-second when the picture was taken, all was well with the world. We were to all appearances “normal”.

Yet recent conversations with my cousins elicit a different picture. My grandfather is believed to have suffered from a deep depression and is thought to have spent some time in a sanitarium. At least 3 of his children dealt with depression as well, some for many years. Among the cousins there is also depression, and addictions, anxiety, schizophrenia and 2 suicides. My own father was an alcoholic whose disease may have been at least partly attributable to a form of PTSD, having spent a period of time dropping bombs on cities during the war ( only 18 years before this picture was taken ). Several of my friends have also shared stories of their own, or their parents’ struggles with addictions, anger management and mental health issues.

A recent article in the Globe and Mail quoted a survey undertaken by the Centre for Addictions and Mental Health (CAMH) that …. “showed 11.7 % of the respondents reported experiencing mental distress in 2017, up from 7.4% the previous year. That represents an estimated 1.2 million adults in the province who struggled with issues such as stress, depression and problems with their emotions on at least 14 of the last 30 days. The proportion of respondents who reported having thoughts of suicide nearly doubled to 4.1% from 2.3% in 2016.”

Obviously, mental health issues have always been with us and it’s gratifying to me that we are beginning to recognize not only the extent of the problem but the cost to the individual and, more broadly, to society. Perhaps more importantly, I’m gratified that we are beginning to demythologize mental illness and trying to understand the reality that so many people face each day. None of us is perfect, certainly not as “perfect” as that picture from so long ago. In reality, mental health issues affect us all in one way or another each and every day.

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* When the rebuilding of the site was undertaken by CAMH, that address was deliberately left unused in favour of 1001 Queen Street in order to break the association with past history.

http://www.camh.ca/en/camh-news-and-stories/ontario-adults-reporting-increases-in-mental-health-problems

 

Hewers of Wood

December 12: For centuries, Canada has been a country which depends on its’ natural resources. The exploitation of this bounty was foundational for the country. Explorers discovered fish, furs, timber and, later, oil and gas. For decades our economy has depended on hauling things out of the ground or the forests and selling them to the highest bidder. The recent decline the price of dirty oil from Alberta has highlighted the risks in doing so, and once again, governments of all levels are being encouraged to prop up an industry in its’ death throes.

Canada also has a proud history of invention and advancement in fields such as medicine and technology. We are known for things like the Canadarm, the Blackberry phone and Imax films, yet we fail to adequately support innovation and technological innovation with may of our educational programs and financial incentives. As a result, a substantial part of our economy is a “branch plant” of American companies which only have their own interests at heart. The recent news of the GM closure in Oshawa is one case in point.

Yet these are but symptoms of change occurring on a global level: climate change, economic restructuring, and the re-ordering of superpowers are all rapidly evolving. In my view, climate change is the most critical issue that we must face. If we fail there, we all have nothing. And it feels to me very much like we have passed a point of no return for the world as we know it.

Even if we were able to stop CO2 pollution immediately, clean plastics from the oceans tomorrow, and stop destruction of the world’s forests, jungles and species next week, it would still be too late to avoid a catastrophe. Our children, and their children, face a bleak future for which we are responsible, and to which we continue to turn a blind eye. How will we answer when they ask why we did nothing to avoid something that was apparent and growing worse for decades ?

I am astounded at the apparent lack of interest shown by most Canadians, and the virtually complete inaction of our governments and politicians in taking the lead toward a better future. Instead of subsidizing Alberta oil with new rail cars and pipelines, why are we not transitioning away from oil entirely and moving to cleaner technologies developed in our own country ? Instead of wringing our hands over 2500 jobs in Oshawa, and listening to the 19th century clap-trap coming from the unions, why are  we not repositioning the economy for the future rather than the age of 4-door, CO2-belching sedans and SUVs ?

An answer comes in a recent quote from David Suzuki : “It’s as if many who are supposed to represent our interests either lack the imagination, foresight and long-term thinking needed to deal with a crisis as massive as human-caused climate disruption, or they have given up and decided short-term economic gain and positive election promises are more important than ensuring we and our children and grandchildren have a viable future. It’s time our governments started representing the interests of citizens over those of the fossil fuel industry.”

So Long Ma

December 4: For the last year – or perhaps two – I have known that I needed to deal with my “technology”: cellphone, internet, cable TV and home phone. In total, they cost me more than $325 a month. I am a very limited user of cellphone time, and my home phone is used only sparingly by people who have known me at that number for decades, or by ubiquitous duct-cleaning salesmen. While the need to do something was obvious, there was a certain inertia brought about by the need to wrangle with both Rogers and Bell to get it sorted out. They did not disappoint.

I went with a Virgin Mobile package which included internet and a new cell package. They use the Bell network. An appointment was made at the oh-so-friendly Virgin store and in due course the Bell tech appeared to do the switch over. The first thing he did was check the telephone number on my line. It turned out to be wrong. He disconnected the phone – which had been working perfectly for more than 3 years – and after talking to a manager at Bell,  told me that I had to call Bell to get it reconnected. Did I mention that he was a Bell tech ?

Whatever. I called Bell and after navigating through the system and finding an actual person, made an appointment for another tech to come out the next day. They didn’t show up. I decided to call Bell back and cancel the phone entirely which led to the inevitable barrage of “things we can do to keep you as a customer”. After much hemming and hawing, their best deal was to cancel the wire-care package – a $4 saving. So long Bell.*

Next up was Rogers. Virgin actually cancelled my Rogers cell package when I signed up with them, and I thought that they had done the internet as well. When I went to return the modem to the store, I was told that the internet was still active and that I needed to call Rogers – from the fecking Rogers store – to get a work order. Again through the answering tree to a live person. She took some data – birth date and postal code –  to identify me then said that she needed to talk to “scheduling”. I was going to ask what exactly we were scheduling, but she was gone before I could betray my stupidity. Many minutes passed. Many. She returned. Sorry for the delay, she was waiting for them to “pick up”. She inquired whether I would be interested in a less expensive TV package. When I responded positively she disappeared to check on what might be available. Many more minutes pass. Finally she returned again. Without a word about TV packages, I was handed over to the “Senior Care Specialist” in scheduling.

At this point I had waited about 20 minutes. Had it not been for the fact that I needed him to do something for me so that I could return the fecking modem to the fecking store in which I was actually standing at that precise moment, I might have said some rather imprudent things. After a very sympathetic few moments – he was obviously specially trained to deal with doddering seniors – he managed to click all the right boxes and I hung up as quickly as I could. I am quite sure that the whole exercise is a way to burn up as many cell phone minutes from a new carrier as possible.

As I returned to the counter in the Rogers store where I had been standing while waiting on “hold” for the last half-hour or so, I mentioned to the sales guy that this level of service is one reason people are so pissed with his company. He said that it’s pretty much the same at Bell. No argument from me, but when was it ever good for business to be as bad as your chief competitor ?

The whole process of getting a better rate seems to be an exercise of bouncing back and forth between the two major companies.  I was once naïve enough to think that one of them might actually reduce my rates because I had stayed with them for so long – probably 20 years for each. But neither one really cares. Loyalty does not pay. The way to game the system is to go with one carrier on a new client rate and then switch to another when that runs out. The really great news is that you can then spend a day of your life dealing with their “customer service” teams. God help you….

* * * * *

By comparison, when I was in Europe this summer, I bought a Lycamobile SIM card for 35 Euro. It came loaded with text messaging and phone minutes – including long distance calls to Canada – at about 6 centimes a minute. In every country on the continent. I bought it at a corner store, used it all summer, and still had about 10 Euro left. It showed me very clearly how badly served we are by the providers and regulators in Canada.

* After this was written I found a home phone package with Koodo for $5 a month. Of course, it’s a special rate for new customers which expires after 6 months…..

Perchance to Dream ?

November 7: As I went to bed last night, a wicked westerly wind was rattling the windows of my apartment. Waves of red and yellow leaves scuttled across the lawn as the temperature dropped to the single digits. I had been watching a TVO documentary on the First World War that reminded me of the deprivation and horrors those men endured. I was glad to be safe and warm in my bed. I thought about how those men must have felt when they too were finally able to find a comfortable bed and leave the battle behind.

It continues to amaze me that on some level they had chosen to be there  – most of them, at least in the early stages of the war, had volunteered. My own Father volunteered during the Second World War and became a navigator on a Halifax bomber. The sole story he shared willingly was about the night his plane crash landed near Leeming in England (November 22, 1944). They had sustained damage due to flak and knew they would not make it back to base. The pilot picked out a field and told them to prepare for the landing. My Dad and the mid-gunner were braced in the centre of the fuselage between the wing struts when there was a forceful impact that they believed to be the plane hitting the ground.

In fact, the plane had gone between two trees and sheared off the wings. Seconds later they hit the ground and Dad, who was facing aft, watched as the rear of the plane disintegrated. When the plane stopped moving, he and the gunner ran off across the field, thinking that the plane would explode. Only later would they realize that the wings, and the fuel tanks, were gone. I recall him saying that they had some time off after the crash, and there is a gap in his logbook until December 24 when they flew to Dusseldorf. He flew a further 23 missions before his war ended on March 22, 1945.

As I lay in my bed, I tried to imagine how he must have felt that night when he escaped the plane. Did he take comfort in a warm bed with the blankets over his ears, or was he awake for hours reliving the events he had just survived ? Was his bed a refuge from the war or a place of torment, of nightmares and dread of the dawn yet to come ?

And finally there would have been the night when he was finally home in his own bed with the realization that he had survived in one piece. How wonderful it must have been to feel the warmth and comfort and security of his bed and realize that the horrible chapter of the war had been closed. It’s a feeling I will never have. But as I lay awake in my own bed, listening to the witch of November outside my windows, I was flooded with gratitude for the sacrifice of my Dad and so many others. We are where we are today because of them.

Sleep well, bhoys. Sleep well.

Autumn

October 30: On May 9 I declared Spring officially underway in a post that featured a photograph of a Saucer Magnolia in bloom at the end of my street. Today I went out and discovered that the adjacent tree is fully aflame with autumn foliage, while the Magnolia ironically has not one leaf of colour.

Today is also the day I chose to move my motorcycle into storage in my cousin’s garage. This is the first time in about 15 years that I have not stored the bike with Pro 6 – my repair and maintenance guys of choice. Past experience with storing the bike on my own suggests that it will be harder to get going again in the Spring, but we will have to wait and see about that.

Having parked the bike in the garage, I took TTC home. Since I was wearing my riding jacket and carrying my helmet, there were a few inquisitive glances, but it wasn’t until I got on the bus, that someone – the driver – asked “Where’s the bike ?” Turns out he is way more committed than I and has a bike he rides year-round. As I got off the bus, a guy going in the opposite direction also asked about the bike. It was as if the helmet and gear broke the ice and gave people permission to start a brief and enjoyable conversation with a stranger.

Whatever it was, during those conversations, talk turned to the end of the season and the approach of Winter. Harbingers abound: Squirrels stashing nuts at a furious pace; raptors lazily circling on thermals as they migrate south; the crack-head garden crew assaulting my ears with leaf-blowers; and, of course, trees changing colour. My neighbourhood Saucer Magnolia seems determined to resist that trend, a determination I applaud. Perhaps it is not quite Autumn yet, the death of Summer called prematurely.

Hatred

October 25: The following is from an opinion piece written by Jared Yates Sexton that appeared in todays’ Globe and Mail. He is an associate professor at Georgia Southern University and the author of The People Are Going to Rise Like the Waters Upon Your Shore: A Story of American Rage. He writes about the attempted bombings of CNN and Democratic party officials.

“We now sit in terrible expectation of tragedy, and all because a portion of the country has been force-fed lies and rumours designed to keep them angry and complicit in politics that never serves their actual interest.

Mr. Trump, our conspirator-in-chief, owns no small portion of the responsibility. He has made his career on scapegoating the Clintons and hinting at the more deranged conspiracy theories peddled by fringe media. He cut his political teeth framing Mr. Obama as a foreign-born infiltrator, at times hinting at the possibility he could be intentionally subverting the United States. In nearly every speech he gives, he points to the reporters and journalists doing their jobs and calls them the scum of the earth and the enemy of the people.

I’ve met my fair share of pundits who believe this is all a ruse by Mr. Trump to create a binary world in which it’s Him vs. Them. Certainly it’s gotten him this far, so there is a validity to the strategy, but at what cost? Mr. Trump has continually fueled dangerous rhetoric that spins a story of a world with shadowy figures operating at the margins, a massive conspiracy that is funded by Mr. Soros, led by the Clintons and Obamas, spearheaded by the Democratic Party and carried out by a complicit media. In this world, this treacherous and perfidious world, the United States is a country under siege. The borders are open and we’re vulnerable to attack. And these people, the very same ones who were destined to receive bombs in the mail, are complicit.

It’s a lie, a shoddy lie at that, but it does more than inflame passions and inspire people to the polls. It inspires them to take action. It inspires them to grab their gun and pull the trigger. It inspires them to send bombs. It inspires them to declare war and murder and terrorize and erase any facet of free society until all that is left is the dull shade of fear and unadulterated fascism.

We live in a new world now, a world where the cold war of American politics has transformed into a live combat zone. The message has been received. Mr. Trump’s and the Republican Party’s base has heard them, loud and clear.”

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/article-make-america-hate-again-when-political-rhetoric-turns-violent/