Everyday I get an email from Merriam-Webster with a new "word of the day". Today though I think I'd like to substitute it for another one: Smite!
The following are three headlines that appeared just today:
AP: “Austrian police: 22 suspects detained, 136 identified in global child porn sting…”
Reuters: “U.N High Commissioner condemns Guinea Blood Bath…has to ensure that all those responsible to carrying out summary executions, rapes (of women and girls in the streets) and other human rights violations are brought to justice,..”
MSNBC: "Bishop charged in child sex abuse case"
Is it just me, or has the world gone mad?
Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am not generally prone to such vehement statements, or to quoting from the bible, but seriously, we need some good old-fashioned Smiting! Some Old Testament, Wrath of God, Archangels-killing-demons type smiting.
The Book of Daniel in the Old Testament says: “... that time shall Michael rise up, the great prince, who standeth for the children of thy people."
We need you Michael. Smite the hell out of them.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
He's not vicious, he's just hungry!
My Mom loved to tell stories. Sometimes we would beg her to tell us tales of her childhood, we loved those even if we’d heard them a hundred times before.
And sometimes she would tell others stories about us.
The anecdotes about my brother Steve mostly consisted of the trouble he got into as a small boy. My personal favourite being the time a neighbour carelessly left a pair of garden shears lying around and Steve found them. He proceeded to walk from house to house cutting the heads off of every single flower he found in our neighbour’s gardens. When he was done, he pitched the garden shears into Lake Ontario. We lived right on the edge of it; there was a fence, and then a drop into the Lake. Basically, my brother Steve pitched anything that wasn’t nailed down into the lake.
The stories my Mom told about me often involved animals. As a kid I was always rescuing something. There was the bunny I found in our yard with an injured foot; the baby birds who were abandoned by their mother when their nest fell out of the tree in a storm (they didn’t even have their pin feathers yet); five baby raccoons who showed up hungry one day (we assumed their mother probably got hit by a car since there was never any sign of her), and the list continues.
Figuring out what to feed these creatures was sometimes a challenge. The bunny was pretty easy, as were various dogs. We had to call someone about the baby birds, and ended up feeding them hard boiled egg mashed up with warm milk through an eyedropper. My Dad was ready to send me packing with them at one point – they liked to start chirping for their breakfast around four a.m. But even he was impressed when they flew for the first time. Even after they finally left the nest (or in their case, shoebox), they would come back every spring and sit on our fence.
The baby raccoons also liked eggs. We would crack them slightly and hide them around the yard so they learned to hunt for their food. Eventually they were released on my cousin’s farm.
My Mom also liked to tell people about the time I fed the bear in Algonquin Park. I know, lots of people feed bears in Algonquin, even though you’re not supposed to. On this particular occasion we were on our way home. I was four and my Mom was pregnant with Steve. We were in a car and space was at a premium, so I was in the backseat with the cooler and pillows. Just before we reached the Park gate, all the cars came to a stop, as there was a large black bear up ahead at the side of the road. Everyone was craning their necks to see it, including my parents. The bear wandered off and my Mom turned to me to make sure I saw it. She almost had a heart attack. There was her baby; cooler wide open, window rolled down, and feeding bacon to a second bear that had sidled up to our car. When my Mother could finally talk, she asked me what on earth I was thinking? I told her he looked hungry.
When I was six we moved to Burlington on Lakeshore Road. My school was several blocks away up a side street that ran perpendicular to Lakeshore. On the corner where I crossed was a service station and I walked by it twice a day going to and from school. Tied up in back was a very scraggly German Sheppard, and all the kids were scared of it. It barked and growled and strained against its chain whenever someone went by and my Mother made me swear I would never get close to it. Most days I walked to school with my friend Launa but if she was sick or something I’d be on my own. On one such day I crossed at the corner with the light and started off when I heard this dog carrying on as usual. There was no one around. I got as close as I dared and opening up my lunch, threw him half my sandwich which he ate in one gulp. The next couple of mornings I did the same thing. Then one day I stopped on my way home. I had one of those Halloween bags of chips left so I slowly walked up to him and fed him a chip. They were Salt & Vinegar, and he liked them!
And that is where my mother found me some time later. I was late so she had started off to see if she could see me coming. What she saw was me sitting on a curb with my arm around this mangy German Sheppard sharing a bag of chips!
After she’d sent me to wash my hands she sat me down in our kitchen and said, “that dog is vicious. What were you thinking?”
I told her he wasn’t vicious, he was just hungry.
Naturally, my mother loved to tell my husband stories about me as a kid, so I say he has no one to blame but himself – he married me anyway! Once our own kids were in school I decided to go back to work full time and found a great job working for a growing biotech company that recruited computer engineers and scientists from all over the world. A lot of the new employees were single and came to Canada not knowing a soul. One day my husband came home from work and noticed an extra place setting on the table. He asked who was coming for dinner? I mentioned a hard to pronounce name with lots of letters in it. “He’s a new programmer”, I explained. “He looks hungry, I don’t think he eats right”.
Without another word my husband went and picked up the phone. He called my Mother.
“Just thought you’d like to know, she’s still feeding strays, except now they’re people”.
And sometimes she would tell others stories about us.
The anecdotes about my brother Steve mostly consisted of the trouble he got into as a small boy. My personal favourite being the time a neighbour carelessly left a pair of garden shears lying around and Steve found them. He proceeded to walk from house to house cutting the heads off of every single flower he found in our neighbour’s gardens. When he was done, he pitched the garden shears into Lake Ontario. We lived right on the edge of it; there was a fence, and then a drop into the Lake. Basically, my brother Steve pitched anything that wasn’t nailed down into the lake.
The stories my Mom told about me often involved animals. As a kid I was always rescuing something. There was the bunny I found in our yard with an injured foot; the baby birds who were abandoned by their mother when their nest fell out of the tree in a storm (they didn’t even have their pin feathers yet); five baby raccoons who showed up hungry one day (we assumed their mother probably got hit by a car since there was never any sign of her), and the list continues.
Figuring out what to feed these creatures was sometimes a challenge. The bunny was pretty easy, as were various dogs. We had to call someone about the baby birds, and ended up feeding them hard boiled egg mashed up with warm milk through an eyedropper. My Dad was ready to send me packing with them at one point – they liked to start chirping for their breakfast around four a.m. But even he was impressed when they flew for the first time. Even after they finally left the nest (or in their case, shoebox), they would come back every spring and sit on our fence.
The baby raccoons also liked eggs. We would crack them slightly and hide them around the yard so they learned to hunt for their food. Eventually they were released on my cousin’s farm.
My Mom also liked to tell people about the time I fed the bear in Algonquin Park. I know, lots of people feed bears in Algonquin, even though you’re not supposed to. On this particular occasion we were on our way home. I was four and my Mom was pregnant with Steve. We were in a car and space was at a premium, so I was in the backseat with the cooler and pillows. Just before we reached the Park gate, all the cars came to a stop, as there was a large black bear up ahead at the side of the road. Everyone was craning their necks to see it, including my parents. The bear wandered off and my Mom turned to me to make sure I saw it. She almost had a heart attack. There was her baby; cooler wide open, window rolled down, and feeding bacon to a second bear that had sidled up to our car. When my Mother could finally talk, she asked me what on earth I was thinking? I told her he looked hungry.
When I was six we moved to Burlington on Lakeshore Road. My school was several blocks away up a side street that ran perpendicular to Lakeshore. On the corner where I crossed was a service station and I walked by it twice a day going to and from school. Tied up in back was a very scraggly German Sheppard, and all the kids were scared of it. It barked and growled and strained against its chain whenever someone went by and my Mother made me swear I would never get close to it. Most days I walked to school with my friend Launa but if she was sick or something I’d be on my own. On one such day I crossed at the corner with the light and started off when I heard this dog carrying on as usual. There was no one around. I got as close as I dared and opening up my lunch, threw him half my sandwich which he ate in one gulp. The next couple of mornings I did the same thing. Then one day I stopped on my way home. I had one of those Halloween bags of chips left so I slowly walked up to him and fed him a chip. They were Salt & Vinegar, and he liked them!
And that is where my mother found me some time later. I was late so she had started off to see if she could see me coming. What she saw was me sitting on a curb with my arm around this mangy German Sheppard sharing a bag of chips!
After she’d sent me to wash my hands she sat me down in our kitchen and said, “that dog is vicious. What were you thinking?”
I told her he wasn’t vicious, he was just hungry.
Naturally, my mother loved to tell my husband stories about me as a kid, so I say he has no one to blame but himself – he married me anyway! Once our own kids were in school I decided to go back to work full time and found a great job working for a growing biotech company that recruited computer engineers and scientists from all over the world. A lot of the new employees were single and came to Canada not knowing a soul. One day my husband came home from work and noticed an extra place setting on the table. He asked who was coming for dinner? I mentioned a hard to pronounce name with lots of letters in it. “He’s a new programmer”, I explained. “He looks hungry, I don’t think he eats right”.
Without another word my husband went and picked up the phone. He called my Mother.
“Just thought you’d like to know, she’s still feeding strays, except now they’re people”.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Karma
I am a firm believer in “what goes around comes around” and I generally try to be nice when it would be just as easy to be otherwise. I hold doors for people, smile at strangers on the street, that kind of thing. And for the most part I find that people reciprocate.
I seldom get downtown, it’s busy and parking can be difficult, but whenever I do find myself having to run errands at lunch, I always ask my co-worker if she has anything to go. It saves her a trip and usually only takes me a few extra minutes. Last week I was on such a mission and had paid for parking in a city lot while I dropped off some paperwork for her. The lot had the meters that you put money into depending on how much time you think you need and it spits out a slip of paper with the time limit on it that you are supposed to leave on your dashboard. I didn’t know exactly how long I’d be so I’d paid for twenty minutes when I really only needed five. Pulling out of the lot, another car passed me coming in and on an impulse I rolled down my window and waved my parking stub at the driver. He stopped and I told him that there was 15 minutes left on it, if he wanted it. He looked kind of surprised but took it and thanked me.
Today I was downtown again. I pulled into another city lot, at the tax offices this time, and just as I was scanning the lot for a space, a car pulled up beside me and the driver rolled down his window. Yup. He waved a parking stub at me and asked if I wanted it. I smiled and thanked him. This one had almost two hours left on it and I only needed a few minutes. As I was leaving I scanned the lot again and saw an older women heading towards a meter. I backed up and rolled down my window…..
As I was driving back to work, I was at an intersection waiting to pull into traffic. The oncoming car slowed right down and I thought intended to allow me in. As I started to go she suddenly sped up and almost ran into me. Okay, so it’s not a perfect world, but it’s pretty good and it’s the little things like free parking that generally put a smile on your face.
I seldom get downtown, it’s busy and parking can be difficult, but whenever I do find myself having to run errands at lunch, I always ask my co-worker if she has anything to go. It saves her a trip and usually only takes me a few extra minutes. Last week I was on such a mission and had paid for parking in a city lot while I dropped off some paperwork for her. The lot had the meters that you put money into depending on how much time you think you need and it spits out a slip of paper with the time limit on it that you are supposed to leave on your dashboard. I didn’t know exactly how long I’d be so I’d paid for twenty minutes when I really only needed five. Pulling out of the lot, another car passed me coming in and on an impulse I rolled down my window and waved my parking stub at the driver. He stopped and I told him that there was 15 minutes left on it, if he wanted it. He looked kind of surprised but took it and thanked me.
Today I was downtown again. I pulled into another city lot, at the tax offices this time, and just as I was scanning the lot for a space, a car pulled up beside me and the driver rolled down his window. Yup. He waved a parking stub at me and asked if I wanted it. I smiled and thanked him. This one had almost two hours left on it and I only needed a few minutes. As I was leaving I scanned the lot again and saw an older women heading towards a meter. I backed up and rolled down my window…..
As I was driving back to work, I was at an intersection waiting to pull into traffic. The oncoming car slowed right down and I thought intended to allow me in. As I started to go she suddenly sped up and almost ran into me. Okay, so it’s not a perfect world, but it’s pretty good and it’s the little things like free parking that generally put a smile on your face.
A Work in Progress
Do you ever wake up in the morning and suddenly wonder how did I get here? It could just be a symptom of getting older but I think it might have more to do with my son going away to school. As much as I miss him, I'm also a little envious. Not because I never got the chance to do it, I did, but because I remember like it was yesterday that feeling of having the whole world open before you, just waiting to see what you will do. It was a little scary, but it was also incredibly exhilarating. Somewhere along the way though I think we lose that feeling that anything is possible.
When I was in high school, I was going to be a writer. I was editor of the school paper and won some awards for poetry and short story writing. If you looked in my grade 12 yearbook there are a bunch of comments from teachers wishing me well in my future writing career and asking for a copy of my first book! Sometimes it's best not to look at old year books.
My enrolment into University was a rather sudden and hurried happening. At the time, Ontario still had grade 13 for students heading in that direction, so even though I knew I wanted to go, I thought I still had another year. One day I got called down to the office to speak with the Principal and he said that a teacher had recommended me for an early entry program and that if accepted, I could forego grade 13 and start university that fall. Looking back, I'm not sure I made the right choice but everyone knows what they say about hindsight! I was already younger than most kids in my year having skipped a grade early on, and now I was enrolled in university at the age of 16. And I had no idea what I wanted to do. My parents, god bless them, couldn't understand for the life of them why I even wanted to go so I had no guidence there. Since I was old enough, I had volunteered for various organizations working with kids so that seemed like my best bet I thought. I decided to be a teacher.
I absolutely loved University. Don't get me wrong, it was hard. School work was hard. My first English essay rated a C+. I had never received less than an A+ in English in my entire life and I thought it was the end of the world, but after I cried over it, I talked to my Professor and he explained what he wanted me to do differently and eventually I figured it out. Paying for university was hard. I had managed to get a student loan, but it didn't cover everything so I worked after school in a bank most evenings. Was it worth it? Totally. Despite my major, my favourite courses were Political Science. I had never really paid much attention before I have to admit - to world events or for that matter things that were happening in my own country, but that class opened my eyes and I took it as an elective for three years. Sometimes I wish I didn't know what was going on in the world when I hear some of the things that are happening, but you can't bury your head in the sand even when you want to. Most mornings I listen to BBC news on my way to work and some stories they report really make me want to hit something! But in my own small way, I try to make the world a better place. I am involved in local community charities and in a couple of more years when my youngest goes off into the world I plan to volunteer some time overseas. It's something I've always wanted to do. I hold no accord with people who say the world is beyond hope. What have we got if not hope? One of my favourites quotes is from Margaret Mead: 'Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has'. I also try to pay a lot more attention to things in my own backyard. I have sent so many emails to the Prime Minister's office over the years that I'm sure my name is probably on some list somewhere!
So, I went to University to become a teacher. I am an accountant. : ) The last time I was looking for a job and going to interviews we would get to the part where the interviewer would say something like, "I see you have a B.A. In Accounting? Business?" and I would reply with a smile, "In Education". I got some very surprised looks. One person actually asked me if I didn't consider that I had wasted four years of my life. That got a surprised look from me.
When I graduated from University we were in a recession and there was a hiring freeze on teaching jobs unless you were willing to go to Yellowknife or somewhere equally remote, which at the time I was not willing to do. I was planning on getting married. But I had a really good job at the bank where I'd worked part time for years and they hired me on full time. So I stayed.
From there it was a gradual transition to accounting. When I had my first child I left my full time job but still needed to work part time. My husband opened his own business and the first couple of years were pretty lean ones. He also wanted me to do his bookkeeping. I had an idea of how it all worked, but I certainly wasn't a bookkeeper. I didn't really have the time or the money to take a course, so I sort of fudged my way into a part time bookkeeping job. (Yes, I know. I should be ashamed!) My saving grace was that (a) my employer didn't believe in computers so everything was done manually, and (b) for the first few weeks he really only had me checking other employee's calculations. Between doing that, and the stack of library books I brought home, I figured out enough to get started at least. Over time of course I learned a lot more, and to my surprise found I had an affinity for numbers. Eventually I began to pursue my CGA designation. But to answer that interveiwer who suggested my education was a waste of time: for me going to school made me a different person. A better person. My eyes were opened to ideas and concepts I might never have been exposed to otherwise. And above all else, I learned how to learn. Now I am not trying to say that everyone should go to university or college. We are all a product of our experiences and everyone is different, and everyone needs to find their own niche.
So. From possible teacher to wife and mother to accountant to....blog writer? I guess if anything, I am a work in progress. There are still a lot of things I want to do - volunteering overseas is only the first thing on the list - and I'm no where near done learning yet. I guess the world does still have endless possibilities, if only you are willing to look for them.
When I was in high school, I was going to be a writer. I was editor of the school paper and won some awards for poetry and short story writing. If you looked in my grade 12 yearbook there are a bunch of comments from teachers wishing me well in my future writing career and asking for a copy of my first book! Sometimes it's best not to look at old year books.
My enrolment into University was a rather sudden and hurried happening. At the time, Ontario still had grade 13 for students heading in that direction, so even though I knew I wanted to go, I thought I still had another year. One day I got called down to the office to speak with the Principal and he said that a teacher had recommended me for an early entry program and that if accepted, I could forego grade 13 and start university that fall. Looking back, I'm not sure I made the right choice but everyone knows what they say about hindsight! I was already younger than most kids in my year having skipped a grade early on, and now I was enrolled in university at the age of 16. And I had no idea what I wanted to do. My parents, god bless them, couldn't understand for the life of them why I even wanted to go so I had no guidence there. Since I was old enough, I had volunteered for various organizations working with kids so that seemed like my best bet I thought. I decided to be a teacher.
I absolutely loved University. Don't get me wrong, it was hard. School work was hard. My first English essay rated a C+. I had never received less than an A+ in English in my entire life and I thought it was the end of the world, but after I cried over it, I talked to my Professor and he explained what he wanted me to do differently and eventually I figured it out. Paying for university was hard. I had managed to get a student loan, but it didn't cover everything so I worked after school in a bank most evenings. Was it worth it? Totally. Despite my major, my favourite courses were Political Science. I had never really paid much attention before I have to admit - to world events or for that matter things that were happening in my own country, but that class opened my eyes and I took it as an elective for three years. Sometimes I wish I didn't know what was going on in the world when I hear some of the things that are happening, but you can't bury your head in the sand even when you want to. Most mornings I listen to BBC news on my way to work and some stories they report really make me want to hit something! But in my own small way, I try to make the world a better place. I am involved in local community charities and in a couple of more years when my youngest goes off into the world I plan to volunteer some time overseas. It's something I've always wanted to do. I hold no accord with people who say the world is beyond hope. What have we got if not hope? One of my favourites quotes is from Margaret Mead: 'Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has'. I also try to pay a lot more attention to things in my own backyard. I have sent so many emails to the Prime Minister's office over the years that I'm sure my name is probably on some list somewhere!
So, I went to University to become a teacher. I am an accountant. : ) The last time I was looking for a job and going to interviews we would get to the part where the interviewer would say something like, "I see you have a B.A. In Accounting? Business?" and I would reply with a smile, "In Education". I got some very surprised looks. One person actually asked me if I didn't consider that I had wasted four years of my life. That got a surprised look from me.
When I graduated from University we were in a recession and there was a hiring freeze on teaching jobs unless you were willing to go to Yellowknife or somewhere equally remote, which at the time I was not willing to do. I was planning on getting married. But I had a really good job at the bank where I'd worked part time for years and they hired me on full time. So I stayed.
From there it was a gradual transition to accounting. When I had my first child I left my full time job but still needed to work part time. My husband opened his own business and the first couple of years were pretty lean ones. He also wanted me to do his bookkeeping. I had an idea of how it all worked, but I certainly wasn't a bookkeeper. I didn't really have the time or the money to take a course, so I sort of fudged my way into a part time bookkeeping job. (Yes, I know. I should be ashamed!) My saving grace was that (a) my employer didn't believe in computers so everything was done manually, and (b) for the first few weeks he really only had me checking other employee's calculations. Between doing that, and the stack of library books I brought home, I figured out enough to get started at least. Over time of course I learned a lot more, and to my surprise found I had an affinity for numbers. Eventually I began to pursue my CGA designation. But to answer that interveiwer who suggested my education was a waste of time: for me going to school made me a different person. A better person. My eyes were opened to ideas and concepts I might never have been exposed to otherwise. And above all else, I learned how to learn. Now I am not trying to say that everyone should go to university or college. We are all a product of our experiences and everyone is different, and everyone needs to find their own niche.
So. From possible teacher to wife and mother to accountant to....blog writer? I guess if anything, I am a work in progress. There are still a lot of things I want to do - volunteering overseas is only the first thing on the list - and I'm no where near done learning yet. I guess the world does still have endless possibilities, if only you are willing to look for them.
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