Posted on October 12, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

Thanksgiving rocks!

 

“If you can’t be, with the one (s) you love, love the one (s) you’re with.”

Love The One You’re With – Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.

Thanksgiving.

Giving thanks.

Yes. It is that time of the year when we stop for a few moments, somewhere between the main course and dessert, and ponder our good fortune. This is a Thanksgiving Day like no other in recent memory. At a time when mingling with family and friends is the focal point of the holiday, we are been urged in some provinces, begged in others and even mandated by a few, to stay home and keep away from others. It just doesn’t seem right.

Covid has interrupted the flow of life in so many ways. Some of my readers lived through the Great Depression. They understand hard times. They couldn’t get take out food  or groceries delivered to their doors. They couldn’t sit in the comfort of their homes and stream movies. No. They were scratching and clawing to simply survive. These same readers also lived through WW11. For these people, Covid places a distant third in terms of life altering events.

Some would call this “perspective”.

I was speaking to one of my daughters on the weekend. She asked me how things were going, my plans for this holiday, and for Christmas. She even asked me to gaze into my crystal ball and look a year down the road. Never in my lifetime has it been so difficult, if not impossible, to make plans any time in the future.

While I would love to have been home today with my family, that simply wasn’t an option, but I can assure you that I haven’t been hard done by. I had Thanksgiving dinner this past weekend along with some social events, with colleagues from work. Christmas looms and will be tricky for anyone planning to travel elsewhere. If the Atlantic Bubble stays in place, going back to N.S. is not a great idea. Self- isolating for another two weeks with a two- foot artificial tree probably wouldn’t fill my heart with the joy of the season. Only a fleeting appearance from Santa would break the monotony. If I travel somewhere else in Canada (Victoria is at the top of my list), I face the prospect of yet another quarantine when I return to Northern Quebec unless the long awaited miracle touted by POTUS appears on the scene and Covid is eradicated along with poverty and greenhouse gases. And racial discrimination.

Plan C might entail spending Christmas right here in my newly adopted home. It would be very interesting to witness some new Christmas traditions. A polar bear dip may be something with a very different connotation than the New Year’s Day plunge in the icy Atlantic! I spent one Christmas in India in 35 degree heat. I might as well add a -35 to the tally.

Long range planning is even more precarious. It’s hard to imagine what things will look like next summer.

Only one thing is certain as far as I can tell. With good health, anything is possible. With poor health, a person’s choices become very limited. I believe we would all do well to try our best to stay physically, mentally and psychologically well until a vaccine is found and we can return to some form of normalcy.

This will not be easy, but neither was fighting in the trenches or riding the rails looking for food during the Depression.

More than ever, we need friends and lovers. We need to lean on each other and pick each other up when spirits are flagging. We need to reach out and touch someone even if it’s only virtual. We need to be especially attentive to those who suffer from mental illness and loneliness. These twin evils (evil twins) often occupy the same space.

If you feel grateful, articulate this. Show your gratefulness by doing something for someone else today and every day.

Be kind. Be gentle.

Be giving. Be thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving!

P.S. I know many of you have been waiting anxiously (?!) to hear the latest chapter in my telephone saga. I received an actual bill from my service provider. I have an actual account and they are threatening to take an actual payment from my bank account any day now. Thanks Ma Bell!

Posted on October 8, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with one comment

 

“We’re just another animal.” S.R.

Like most people my age, I have a lot of miles on my feet. I might have a few more than most having run marathons for a number of years. When my body begged me to stop running, I took up walking and like so many other things in my life, when I find something that I’m passionate about, I’m “all in”. In the spring of 2019, I walked across Spain (713km) completing the Camino, easily one of the highlights of my life. Last summer, I walked around the scenic Cabot Trail in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. While this latest jaunt was a mere 300km, the degree of difficulty was quite high, as were the four mountains I had to climb along the way! I guess you could say that I have become a marathon walker in my golden years.

These are well travelled paths. I have walked along many trails over the years, from the Galloping Goose in Victoria to my old favourite, The Landing in Antigonish. I have meandered through many beautiful parks in Hyderabad and New Delhi, India, the Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, Stanley Park in Vancouver and Beacon Hill Park in Victoria. All of these and many more have captivated my imagination. Nature is always the backdrop and the reason for going.

Lately, I have done more hiking than I have ever done before. It started in the spring when I returned home at the beginning of the pandemic and spent the better part of four months with my son. Six days a week, we completed a hike, usually followed by a cold beverage and a great meal. Good work if you can get it, as the saying goes.

I arrived in the north last November when winter was in full swing. While I did some walking, the weather and my busy teaching schedule kept me away from the land but this year, I arrived at the beginning of August and have had the time to get out and explore the tundra and the mountains. Every weekend, I have gone for a hike and occasionally a long walk thrown in for good measure.

Now, most of the parks that I have visited and trails that I have walked are the creation of man. I suspect millions of people have walked over the exact same terrain in Central Park in New York. Sadly, I am not one of them. Not yet but a full exploration of New York is on my “uncompleted” list. Or is it? Do I really want to go to another big city to be pushed and jostled on the subway? Do I want to breathe polluted air and put up with the hassles of travel to and from the Big Apple? Travel has become a chore and in the middle of a pandemic, not my description of fun.

Have a I had it with big cities and global travel? I hope not but at my age, the simpler pleasures of life are taking root. Staying home and reading, playing tunes at a gathering of friends, preparing a good meal, enjoying the company of friends and, of course, spending time in the great outdoors all hold great appeal.

Last weekend, me and two colleagues went for a hike on the land. The land up here is rugged and rocky, interspersed with tundra. At first blush, it can look rather bland until you start to create your own trail. You see, there are no marked paths up here. When you go exploring the land, it is quite possible that you are the first person in millions of years whoever trod this particular piece of terrain. It can leave one awestruck when you think about it. You trundle over rocks and then get a reprieve as you step onto the spongy softness of the spectacular tundra.

My walking partners and I were talking about the wildlife we had seen on our hikes. It was during this discussion that Serge made a very interesting observation about our place on the land, on this day, at this moment. “We’re just another animal.” I thought about this for a long time.

The vastness of the north, the raw beauty, and the total serenity are what captivates many who come here. It’s not for everyone. The winters are long and can be harsh. But like many of the hikes that I’ve been on up here, patience is rewarded as the north reveals itself in subtle and often spectacular ways. To stand by an inukshuk several kilometers from the village, on a dark night, without neon lights to spoil the view, with a billion stars all around and gazing at the Northern Lights, is a moving, spiritual, mystical experience.

The next time I see a caribou or silver fox on one of my hikes, I must stop and thank them for allowing me to share the land with them.

I am just a two-legged animal.

Have a great Thanksgiving weekend. Despite these challenging times, we still have much to be grateful for if we are healthy and have good friends.

P.S. If I meet a polar bear on one of my hikes, I will thank him oh so briefly before making a hasty retreat!

 

 

 

Posted on October 5, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

Chesterfield Inlet December 1958

The photo above was provided through the generosity of Piita Irniq who attended a residential school. He told me that it was the first time that he had seen a Christmas tree, let alone any tree!

Another September is in the rear-view mirror. Some would say “good riddance”. Many people love September. Back home in Nova Scotia it signals the changing of the season. The leaves start to turn color, the days are becoming shorter, and there is a decided nip in the air. Here in Northern Quebec, we have already had snow, a harbinger of winter just around the corner. And of course, September is the traditional start of the school year.

“Back to school” days are different this year. Some students are back in classrooms while many others are learning virtually. The results are mixed and it’s far too early to predict what might happen in the ensuing weeks and months. As difficult and challenging as this appears on the service, it pales in comparison to what young children from the north were subjected to for nearly a century.

September 30^th was Orange Shirt Day in Canada. It was the day to show love and support for survivors of the residential school system.

Stop for a moment and think about this. What if someone arrived on your doorstep one day and told you that your young children would be taken from you and moved to a far-off community where the language and culture were totally different?

This is precisely what happened to thousands of Indigenous children in Canada.

Once again, I quote from the excellent book, “The Right to be Cold” by distinguished author Sheila Watt-Clouthier.

“The history of residential schools in Canada spans nearly a century, with the last school closing as recently as 1996. During this time, the federal government, in an attempt to aggressively assimilate Aboriginal children, oversaw the schools, many of which were run by Christian churches. Approximately 150,000 children in all were taken from their families to be “reeducated” in English or French and Christianity. Resistance was rewarded with punishment, and many students experienced physical, emotional and sexual abuse. Today people are still trying to heal from these horrific experiences. What’s more, families were torn apart and unable to pass on tradition and culture when their children were abruptly removed from their communities. This has resulted in generations of trauma suffered by Aboriginal families across Canada.”

I am slowly coming to understand the plight of Aboriginal people. A number of people who live in my village went to residential schools. Many of their stories are documented in the excellent archives at the local museum.

None of us personally can right the wrongs of the past although governments have the duty and responsibility to honor treaties signed in good faith.

It pleases me to no end that our school is doing everything it can to keep the language and culture of the Inuit alive and well. Daily classes in Inuktitut are a staple and students in upper elementary and secondary take classes in Culture where they continue to learn about their heritage in meaningful, hands on fashion. There are after hours programs offered to those who want to learn more about the land, hunting ,and survival.

One suspects it will take a few more generations for the trauma of residential schools to subside. It will never completely be eradicated but more Canadians need to understand this shameful part of Canadian history.

Have a great week.