Last night, I braved the Rideau Centre, the epicentre of what I would like to call Christmas stupidity. My intent, to secure Christmas decorations from The Bay for our first Christmas Tree, and perhaps a small amount of gift shopping.
Beyond the decorations, which really couldn't wait (it is December 17th after all)
I don't know what in my being drove me out on a snowy night. Perhaps I had not seen enough of the worst of human behaviour last weekend when (in what can only be described as sheer lunacy)I went to the Eaton Centre on Saturday morning. Oh, that was a treat! Nothing like pushing and shoving and swearing and bad escalator etiquette to really warm your heart during this festive time of year.
What really eats at me, though, is how at a time of year when we are supposed to be filled with joy, friendship and the true meaning of life, people are so unbelievably rude. In this rush to accomplish all of their Christmas tasks, they push past people - old people, little people, pregnant people - singularly focused on finding that perfect gift. You know the one that will make them the Hero of Christmas. Ironically, and I am hardly the first person to observe or comment on this, their behaviour does everything but exemplify the meaning of Christmas. In a season that is supposed to be about others, they end up focused only on themselves and what they need to accomplish.
While I realize the chances of people changing their behaviour are about as good as Sarah Palin earning a doctorate from Harvard, I do have to make one Christmas plea.
Be kind to the retail staff. Seriously.
I've witnessed some pretty abysmal behaviour in my last two trips in to the apocalyptic chaos that is the metropolitan shopping mall.
I won't recount it because it doesn't deserve it, but I must say it sickened me.
When you get to a cash register, sit down at a restaurant, walk in to a spa or a salon, a liquor store or a grocery store, remember this:
The person standing in front of you didn't put all of the pressure on you to find a perfect gift for everyone you know. They're not responsible for the list you put in front of yourself, the four hours you've spent in the shopping mall without lunch, the fact that you have to make gluten-free stuffing because of cousin Jimmy's allergy or the fact that you need to find a small bottle of cooking sherry so that Aunt Doris doesn't drink what's left over from the trifle you intend to make.
In short, they are not responsible for your ridiculous Christmas expectations.
They are, however, working for the lowest wage in the country, during what is arguably the retail sector's busiest time of year. They are also, for the most part, trying to help you achieve your ridiculous Christmas expectations. And, with a few exceptions, they're doing it cheerfully, despite the fact that they have likely been standing on their feet for the same amount of time you've been in the mall and they'll likely be there long after you leave. When you are at home on Christmas Eve with your family - they'll be at work oh, and I almost forgot, they have the added benefit of getting to work on Boxing Day, which is, well..just like taking a vacation in Bora Bora.
I think you get the point. The amazing thing is, when you show just a smidge of kindness and holiday spirit to the person in front of you, it becomes infectious.
Try it some time, and see how many people around you start to smile, including the clerk, waitress or cashier. You might even start to feel better yourself - and who knows, maybe even become filled with the true meaning of Christmas.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
In defense of hoarding
I am, in the eyes of my loving boyfriend, an inveterate hoarder. I keep things in our tiny one bedroom apartment that he sees no use for. Stowed away in drawers, tucked up high in cupboards, these seemingly insignificant items, are the very bane of his existence. And, every so often he implores me to divest myself of these items in an attempt to balance our yin and yang or some other cosmic force he feels is out of whack when I accumulate too much of this "worthless" junk.
In fairness to him, there are things I do not need to keep, like some small tag from a piece of clothing I bought that I kept because I thought it was pretty or Christmas cards from people I worked with before I even met him, and with whom I no longer speak.
I know it comes from a place of love and a desire to help me be a more organized and efficient person, so I can't fault him for it. But it has got me thinking about why we hang on to the things that we do - an old jean jacket that is torn and frayed, a ticket stub from a train ride in Ireland, a newspaper clipping from years ago, Fisher Price toys etched with the dirt and wear of several generations of children or a mitten from a snow suit long since given away to another child.
Why do we feel the need to keep these things, and more importantly, why do we need to keep them close to us? What is it in us that is unable to let go of these things and what is it in us that prompts us to keep them in the first place?
We keep them, I think, because ultimately they connect us to who we are and where we have been. We keep them because they become symbols of times, places or events that held great meaning for us. We keep them because when we lose sight of ourselves, they become veritable touchstones of who we fundamentally are - and this in turn helps to ground us and guide us to where we are going.
These things, which may mean nothing to others become a veritable external hard drive for our memories, which these days are filled with an ever increasing volume of information, much of it useless. When we stumble on one of these things unexpectedly, when cleaning or searching for some other useful item, it becomes like a little gift to ourselves - a little teleport to a time or place that made our heart joyous.
Sometimes, as in the case of my grandmother who lovingly wrapped up the aforementioned mitten atop my birthday present last year, we get to share these items with others, as a way to show them how important and meaningful their presence in our life is.
So, I think I'll hang on to the old jean jacket, though I've since bought a new one, the hole in the elbow, has a story that I don't want to forget. That ticket stub from Ireland isn't going anywhere either and nor is the memory of the last vacation I took with two of my closest friends.
And, though I don't expect my boyfriend to curtail his filming of bi-annual episodes of "clean sweep" in our apartment, I do expect that one day, in the midst of a divesting frenzy, he'll stumble across the ticket from the first time he took me to the National Gallery and, even if only for a moment, he'll understand.
In fairness to him, there are things I do not need to keep, like some small tag from a piece of clothing I bought that I kept because I thought it was pretty or Christmas cards from people I worked with before I even met him, and with whom I no longer speak.
I know it comes from a place of love and a desire to help me be a more organized and efficient person, so I can't fault him for it. But it has got me thinking about why we hang on to the things that we do - an old jean jacket that is torn and frayed, a ticket stub from a train ride in Ireland, a newspaper clipping from years ago, Fisher Price toys etched with the dirt and wear of several generations of children or a mitten from a snow suit long since given away to another child.
Why do we feel the need to keep these things, and more importantly, why do we need to keep them close to us? What is it in us that is unable to let go of these things and what is it in us that prompts us to keep them in the first place?
We keep them, I think, because ultimately they connect us to who we are and where we have been. We keep them because they become symbols of times, places or events that held great meaning for us. We keep them because when we lose sight of ourselves, they become veritable touchstones of who we fundamentally are - and this in turn helps to ground us and guide us to where we are going.
These things, which may mean nothing to others become a veritable external hard drive for our memories, which these days are filled with an ever increasing volume of information, much of it useless. When we stumble on one of these things unexpectedly, when cleaning or searching for some other useful item, it becomes like a little gift to ourselves - a little teleport to a time or place that made our heart joyous.
Sometimes, as in the case of my grandmother who lovingly wrapped up the aforementioned mitten atop my birthday present last year, we get to share these items with others, as a way to show them how important and meaningful their presence in our life is.
So, I think I'll hang on to the old jean jacket, though I've since bought a new one, the hole in the elbow, has a story that I don't want to forget. That ticket stub from Ireland isn't going anywhere either and nor is the memory of the last vacation I took with two of my closest friends.
And, though I don't expect my boyfriend to curtail his filming of bi-annual episodes of "clean sweep" in our apartment, I do expect that one day, in the midst of a divesting frenzy, he'll stumble across the ticket from the first time he took me to the National Gallery and, even if only for a moment, he'll understand.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Objective Journalism?
This is pathetically bad journalism, if you can even call it that. Christina Blizzard does a major disserve to her profession and the concept of democracy in her piece in today’s Toronto Sun.
Let’s start with this statement - “It was the week when average voters finally connected with their electoral system.”
Christina, I just need a bit of clarification here...
1) Average voters, as defined by whom? (I thought that typically it was the same people who continually vote in municipal elections. They are predominantly homeowners and predominantly OVER the age of 40.)
2) Why were these “average voters” so disconnected from their electoral system? Have they been disenfranchised for the last 5 elections? Were they ineligible to vote last time? Tied up in their homes on election day by marauding liberals and prevented from attending the polling station? I mean, I am really disturbed by this so I am hoping you can answer this question for me.
3) “Gone are the days when people can say, “my vote was meaningless”". Pretty sure the 53% of people that didn’t vote for Rob Ford would say their vote was meaningless, wouldn't you agree?
If you want to understand why people no longer read newspapers, this is an absolutely stunning example. I won’t even get in to the lack of objectivity in the remainder of the article, though those of you who know Blizzard will know that her bias is as plain as the nose on your face. What I will say is, obviously ridiculous statements that have no basis in fact, like those mentioned above, are just one of the reasons people are walking away from mainstream media. Most people want to read intelligent, informed news that offers enlightened and thoughtful insight. They want to read journalists who start with a legitimate question or issue and end with a conclusion, not those who pen trite nonsense by starting with a conclusion and crafting a story that fits it.
Slick Grits need loyalty to local MPPs
Northumberland Today.com
Mon Nov 1 2010
Page: 4
Section: Editorial/Opinion
Byline: CHRISTINA BLIZZARD
Column: Queen's Park
This week marked a sea change across the province.
It was the week when average voters finally connected with their electoral system.
After years of fuming over waste and mismanagement, voters showed surgical precision in cutting out the offending councillors and mayors.
Gone are the days when people can say, "My vote was meaningless."
It was a week when the electorate threw strategic voting out the window and voted with their hearts.
It's a week that's been an eye-opener for provincial politicians in the lead-in to next year's vote.
While Premier Dalton McGuinty and his Liberals must be eyeing the polls nervously, the message it sent was not a left-right one, but a dissatisfaction with the status quo.
He's going into the next vote with the dual albatross of the HST and soaring hydro rates around his neck.
Every time voters go shopping, every time the hydro bill arrives in the mail, voters will blame him for the skyrocketing costs of everyday life.
The Liberals very much represent the status quo -- which may be a double-edged sword next October.
On the one hand, they will be the target of people who demand change.
On the other, never underestimate the power of a long-time MPP and his or her popularity in the riding. It was the central Liberal party that won the last two elections, with slick campaigns, clever strategy -- and an assist from the Tories through faith-based school funding.
Next year the tide will have turned. The Liberals will count on the individual strength of local MPPs in their ridings to hold on to their seats.
Tim Hudak and the Tories will be hoping to ride the wave of change that swept the province.
Their problem is that politics is a different animal at the provincial level.
While of course party politics exist at the local level, the lines are blurred.
Toronto's Rob Ford is a Conservative, but that wasn't what got him elected. People voted for him because he isn't the same-old, same-old politician who's let us down in the past.
He isn't part of the old guard Tory -- and that helped him.
Provincial politics is very much a party political game. And Hudak will be battling the legacy of Mike Harris.
Liberals are trying to paint him as Harris-lite.
In recent weeks, expensive Tory TV ads have appeared, featuring Hudak, his wife and daughter. It shows how hard the Tories are fighting to establish Hudak in a softer light -- a family man out there talking to families about the challenges they face during the economic downturn.
Then there's the NDP. Their choice of Andrea Horwath as leader was brilliant.
She has grown and improved immensely in the little more than a year since she took the party's helm.
Horwath was particularly effective in her attack on the government over the outrageous health ministry contracts to lobbyists.
She has baggage as well.
Just as Hudak needs to shuck the Harris label in some parts of this province, she, too needs to lull voters into forgetfulness about the Bob Rae years.
This week's lesson for the three leaders is that cynical voters are looking not just for change, but for a different way of doing politics.
Liberals will have a tough time convincing them they can do that. A youthful Tory leader or a young woman leading the NDP may be more convincing.
christina.blizzard@sunmedia.ca
Let’s start with this statement - “It was the week when average voters finally connected with their electoral system.”
Christina, I just need a bit of clarification here...
1) Average voters, as defined by whom? (I thought that typically it was the same people who continually vote in municipal elections. They are predominantly homeowners and predominantly OVER the age of 40.)
2) Why were these “average voters” so disconnected from their electoral system? Have they been disenfranchised for the last 5 elections? Were they ineligible to vote last time? Tied up in their homes on election day by marauding liberals and prevented from attending the polling station? I mean, I am really disturbed by this so I am hoping you can answer this question for me.
3) “Gone are the days when people can say, “my vote was meaningless”". Pretty sure the 53% of people that didn’t vote for Rob Ford would say their vote was meaningless, wouldn't you agree?
If you want to understand why people no longer read newspapers, this is an absolutely stunning example. I won’t even get in to the lack of objectivity in the remainder of the article, though those of you who know Blizzard will know that her bias is as plain as the nose on your face. What I will say is, obviously ridiculous statements that have no basis in fact, like those mentioned above, are just one of the reasons people are walking away from mainstream media. Most people want to read intelligent, informed news that offers enlightened and thoughtful insight. They want to read journalists who start with a legitimate question or issue and end with a conclusion, not those who pen trite nonsense by starting with a conclusion and crafting a story that fits it.
Slick Grits need loyalty to local MPPs
Northumberland Today.com
Mon Nov 1 2010
Page: 4
Section: Editorial/Opinion
Byline: CHRISTINA BLIZZARD
Column: Queen's Park
This week marked a sea change across the province.
It was the week when average voters finally connected with their electoral system.
After years of fuming over waste and mismanagement, voters showed surgical precision in cutting out the offending councillors and mayors.
Gone are the days when people can say, "My vote was meaningless."
It was a week when the electorate threw strategic voting out the window and voted with their hearts.
It's a week that's been an eye-opener for provincial politicians in the lead-in to next year's vote.
While Premier Dalton McGuinty and his Liberals must be eyeing the polls nervously, the message it sent was not a left-right one, but a dissatisfaction with the status quo.
He's going into the next vote with the dual albatross of the HST and soaring hydro rates around his neck.
Every time voters go shopping, every time the hydro bill arrives in the mail, voters will blame him for the skyrocketing costs of everyday life.
The Liberals very much represent the status quo -- which may be a double-edged sword next October.
On the one hand, they will be the target of people who demand change.
On the other, never underestimate the power of a long-time MPP and his or her popularity in the riding. It was the central Liberal party that won the last two elections, with slick campaigns, clever strategy -- and an assist from the Tories through faith-based school funding.
Next year the tide will have turned. The Liberals will count on the individual strength of local MPPs in their ridings to hold on to their seats.
Tim Hudak and the Tories will be hoping to ride the wave of change that swept the province.
Their problem is that politics is a different animal at the provincial level.
While of course party politics exist at the local level, the lines are blurred.
Toronto's Rob Ford is a Conservative, but that wasn't what got him elected. People voted for him because he isn't the same-old, same-old politician who's let us down in the past.
He isn't part of the old guard Tory -- and that helped him.
Provincial politics is very much a party political game. And Hudak will be battling the legacy of Mike Harris.
Liberals are trying to paint him as Harris-lite.
In recent weeks, expensive Tory TV ads have appeared, featuring Hudak, his wife and daughter. It shows how hard the Tories are fighting to establish Hudak in a softer light -- a family man out there talking to families about the challenges they face during the economic downturn.
Then there's the NDP. Their choice of Andrea Horwath as leader was brilliant.
She has grown and improved immensely in the little more than a year since she took the party's helm.
Horwath was particularly effective in her attack on the government over the outrageous health ministry contracts to lobbyists.
She has baggage as well.
Just as Hudak needs to shuck the Harris label in some parts of this province, she, too needs to lull voters into forgetfulness about the Bob Rae years.
This week's lesson for the three leaders is that cynical voters are looking not just for change, but for a different way of doing politics.
Liberals will have a tough time convincing them they can do that. A youthful Tory leader or a young woman leading the NDP may be more convincing.
christina.blizzard@sunmedia.ca
Friday, October 8, 2010
Angry Girl Spreads The Love
So this morning, my wonderful boyfriend suggested to me that perhaps my blog ought to be changed to Procrastiranting, because that's pretty much what I do here - according to him. (He does concede that my rants have merit and admittedly, there are a couple of ranty posts on here) I think he's mistaking my passion for anger, or perhaps he's just concerned that he's going to become the subject of one of my rants..
Either way, in order to prove to him that I am capable of not ranting, and also capable of being brief..I wanted to say something today in "non-ranting" form. So here goes...
The subject of suicide has been all over the news for the last week. I'm not going to get in to the details of why as I fear that will merely lead me down the ranting garden path. Suicide, simply put is a tragic loss of human life and human potential that irreparably damages families, friends and loved ones. It is also entirely preventable.
So on this Thanksgiving weekend, I'm simply suggesting that you go home or wherever you go and wrap your loving arms around the people you care about. Hug them. Hug someone you think needs it, hug someone you think doesn't even need it. Tell them that you love them, why you love them, tell them you love them regardless of who they are, what they wear, what they say, what they did or will do. Tell them how important they are to you and how thankful you are to have them in your life. Reach out to someone who is alone. Let love explode out of you and on to the people around you, it's infectious and it's beautiful and it costs you nothing.
Either way, in order to prove to him that I am capable of not ranting, and also capable of being brief..I wanted to say something today in "non-ranting" form. So here goes...
The subject of suicide has been all over the news for the last week. I'm not going to get in to the details of why as I fear that will merely lead me down the ranting garden path. Suicide, simply put is a tragic loss of human life and human potential that irreparably damages families, friends and loved ones. It is also entirely preventable.
So on this Thanksgiving weekend, I'm simply suggesting that you go home or wherever you go and wrap your loving arms around the people you care about. Hug them. Hug someone you think needs it, hug someone you think doesn't even need it. Tell them that you love them, why you love them, tell them you love them regardless of who they are, what they wear, what they say, what they did or will do. Tell them how important they are to you and how thankful you are to have them in your life. Reach out to someone who is alone. Let love explode out of you and on to the people around you, it's infectious and it's beautiful and it costs you nothing.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
“Free Speech?”
I’m writing today about the U.S. Supreme Court Hearing in which Fred Phelps (I won’t dignify him by prefixing his name with his purported title.) will argue, under the guise of “free speech” for his right to shamefully incite hate at, among other things, anti-homophobia rallies and the funerals of dead US soldiers. (I recognize in writing this that I am commenting on a situation ocurring in the U.S. and not Canada, but I think it is fair to say that something this impactful occuring in any country merits consideration here in Canada.)
I had the unfortunate experience of witnessing Phelps and his congregation’s distasteful, nay, despicable “protest” signs on the news yesterday. (I won’t give them the satisfaction of retyping them so if you need to see them, you'll have to get googling.) Although it was disturbing, to say the least, I must admit that, in the end I am glad not to be ignorant of this – because now I can do something about it. After my immediate shock and disgust, I was left with one feeling and one thought.
I was incensed and I needed to act.
I stewed over it last night and this morning. I decided I could be furious about it for only so long – and then I needed to transform the visceral enmity I felt toward Mr. Phelps and his associates in to something productive. (Otherwise, I’d just be breeding hate, which, ironically is exactly what Phelps aims to do. No thanks.) So, I’m doing what I do best – procrastiwriting. I have many, many friends who would fall in the fiery pit Mr. Phelps has fashioned for all those who do not fit in his twisted version of the world. Actually, as an unmarried woman who lives in sin with her boyfriend in her very own “den of iniquity”, I’m probably on Mr. Phelps’ hit list.
But that’s not why I am writing today.
It makes me deeply sad to think that we live in a world where people will cloak themselves in a blanket of “free speech” so that they can broadcast their intolerant, vitriolic garbage in a way that is profoundly painful to other people, some of whom are grieving parents. I believe that free speech and the right to assemble are fundamental rights offered to each citizen. They`re also a privilege, and when Mr. Phelps and his associates denigrate the right of free speech in this way, they threaten the fundamental rights on which our democratic society is based.
Let’s be clear. This isn’t free speech, and it’s not even remotely plausible for someone to consider it such. Speech ceases to be free when it comes at the cost of another’s personal liberty. Speech ceases to be free when its intent is not to speak but to harass.
No, this isn’t free speech at all. It is speech that comes at a very high price, indeed – that price is our very own fundamental right to live freely and without harassment.
To call this free speech means to say that it’s acceptable to harass homosexuals, to violate their fundamental rights and the right of the families of dead U.S. soldiers to grieve without being harassed. Truly, calling this free speech means that it is acceptable to harass anyone. Calling this free speech, demeans the very principle itself.
So let’s call it what it is – harassment.
We are fortunate to live in a tolerant, accepting society, where we are able to live and express our views freely – and we have a duty to uphold that. We don’t have a duty to uphold harassment, which, the last time I looked, was a crime.
Editors note: Ghandi said that "intolerance betrays want of faith in one's cause." Me thinks Mr. Phelps doth intolerantly protest too much.
I had the unfortunate experience of witnessing Phelps and his congregation’s distasteful, nay, despicable “protest” signs on the news yesterday. (I won’t give them the satisfaction of retyping them so if you need to see them, you'll have to get googling.) Although it was disturbing, to say the least, I must admit that, in the end I am glad not to be ignorant of this – because now I can do something about it. After my immediate shock and disgust, I was left with one feeling and one thought.
I was incensed and I needed to act.
I stewed over it last night and this morning. I decided I could be furious about it for only so long – and then I needed to transform the visceral enmity I felt toward Mr. Phelps and his associates in to something productive. (Otherwise, I’d just be breeding hate, which, ironically is exactly what Phelps aims to do. No thanks.) So, I’m doing what I do best – procrastiwriting. I have many, many friends who would fall in the fiery pit Mr. Phelps has fashioned for all those who do not fit in his twisted version of the world. Actually, as an unmarried woman who lives in sin with her boyfriend in her very own “den of iniquity”, I’m probably on Mr. Phelps’ hit list.
But that’s not why I am writing today.
It makes me deeply sad to think that we live in a world where people will cloak themselves in a blanket of “free speech” so that they can broadcast their intolerant, vitriolic garbage in a way that is profoundly painful to other people, some of whom are grieving parents. I believe that free speech and the right to assemble are fundamental rights offered to each citizen. They`re also a privilege, and when Mr. Phelps and his associates denigrate the right of free speech in this way, they threaten the fundamental rights on which our democratic society is based.
Let’s be clear. This isn’t free speech, and it’s not even remotely plausible for someone to consider it such. Speech ceases to be free when it comes at the cost of another’s personal liberty. Speech ceases to be free when its intent is not to speak but to harass.
No, this isn’t free speech at all. It is speech that comes at a very high price, indeed – that price is our very own fundamental right to live freely and without harassment.
To call this free speech means to say that it’s acceptable to harass homosexuals, to violate their fundamental rights and the right of the families of dead U.S. soldiers to grieve without being harassed. Truly, calling this free speech means that it is acceptable to harass anyone. Calling this free speech, demeans the very principle itself.
So let’s call it what it is – harassment.
We are fortunate to live in a tolerant, accepting society, where we are able to live and express our views freely – and we have a duty to uphold that. We don’t have a duty to uphold harassment, which, the last time I looked, was a crime.
Editors note: Ghandi said that "intolerance betrays want of faith in one's cause." Me thinks Mr. Phelps doth intolerantly protest too much.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Just One
People often believe they are incapable of change or of making a difference in the world around them. It seems that as children and young adults, we often possess a profound desire and indeed a need to better our world and we believe very deeply in our ability to do this. Somewhere, during the course of our lives, we become disillusioned, distracted, caught up in the minutia of the every day. We lose this hope, this drive to leave a positive mark on the world, or we lose the ability to see ourselves and our actions, however small, as a force for good.
I want, today, to share with you two stories of people that I know who did this despite being "just one" person.
Last weekend, my friend Peter Leibovitch passed away. Peter was a labour leader, an agent of social change and an advocate for justice for people without a voice. Most importantly, he was a father to Jacob, Joe, Steve, Michael, Sam and Danielle. Though I came to know Peter as a child, it has been sometime since I last saw him. I remember him very fondly and I remember very vividly Peter being at my parents’ home the day Nelson Mandela was released from prison. The house was filled to the brim with people for a family gathering; CNN was on, broadcasting Mandela’s release. Peter came in to the kitchen, took my mother by the hand and said “you HAVE to come and see this.” I remember this because his passion for this monumental event and what it represented for Mandela and the people of South Africa was so overwhelming it was contagious – it filled the room and the people in it.
Peter was truly a man of great integrity and courage. He understood that when one of us suffers, we all suffer; and that when you empower people, you empower society as a whole.
He also understood that the desire to alleviate the suffering of others and to achieve justice transcends religion, race, gender or any other manner in which we “classify” people. There are many people in this world that would do well to take a page from Peter’s book in this regard.
Nearly three weeks ago now, my friend and neighbour at the cottage Zane Brown passed away after a very difficult battle with brain cancer. Zane embraced this diagnosis with courage, grace, dignity and humour. He remained positive and thankful for the love he had been able to share and the love that had been given to him during his too brief stay on this earth. His attitude, dignity and courage will forever remain an example to me in my daily life.
Zane was an accomplished man, having served the federal government for 37 years. He volunteered his time with the Hamilton Literacy Council to empower people in his community by giving them the gift of literacy. He gave his time to community service organizations that supported Hamilton’s most vulnerable residents. Above all else, Zane was Irma’s husband for 44 years and Carl, Eric and Kathryn’s Dad.
I first met Zane as a child; he was a friend of our family – most importantly he and his wife Irma were the very best friends of my Aunt Jane and my cousins Patty, Mary, Paula and Danny. Like Peter, Zane was much older than I but someone who left an impression. Zane and Peter were both people I knew my Mother liked and respected very much, which even as a child told me something, as she was(and is) not easily impressed.
Zane was an exceptionally bright man, to be sure -a man capable of intelligent conversation on an inordinate number of subjects. Despite this, Zane had no airs, no conceit and no arrogance. He was a warm, friendly, compassionate man who was fully engaged when he spoke to you – he had time for everyone. I recall someone sharing a story with me several years ago about how loved and respected the children he volunteered to teach golf to.
In my opinion, Zane’s character is his legacy.
This week, as I was thinking about these two men, their lives and the impression they made on mine, I also had the occasion to read Martin Luther King Jr.’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail, as part of a school requirement. As he responds to his detractors from jail, King says “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice anywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects us all directly.” I believe this is a sentiment both Zane and Peter understood. Moreover –they understood that their actions, however great or small, had the capacity to change their world. They knew that the time "just one" person spent serving others was indeed time well spent.
What does this mean to you? Well, tomorrow is Social Good Day. This initiative, conceived by Mashable and (RED) – is aimed at using social media to engender social change and encourage solutions to the pressing issues facing our world. The goal is to initiate conversations and bring communities together to generate ideas; harnessing the power of social media for social good. Tomorrow hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of “just one” will contribute to moving the world forward.
We are inextricably linked to one another in this vast world, and we have a duty to help the most vulnerable among us. Tomorrow, in honour of Peter and Zane’s legacy, I’m going to dedicate my thoughts to how I believe we can better the world, together. In the days after tomorrow, I’m going to remember that my actions (and your actions) can indeed be a force for change in the world and give my best to live so that my character is my legacy.
I hope tomorrow you can join me in doing the same in honour of someone you admire and respect – ideas can change the world; “just one” person is capable of doing the same.
I want, today, to share with you two stories of people that I know who did this despite being "just one" person.
Last weekend, my friend Peter Leibovitch passed away. Peter was a labour leader, an agent of social change and an advocate for justice for people without a voice. Most importantly, he was a father to Jacob, Joe, Steve, Michael, Sam and Danielle. Though I came to know Peter as a child, it has been sometime since I last saw him. I remember him very fondly and I remember very vividly Peter being at my parents’ home the day Nelson Mandela was released from prison. The house was filled to the brim with people for a family gathering; CNN was on, broadcasting Mandela’s release. Peter came in to the kitchen, took my mother by the hand and said “you HAVE to come and see this.” I remember this because his passion for this monumental event and what it represented for Mandela and the people of South Africa was so overwhelming it was contagious – it filled the room and the people in it.
Peter was truly a man of great integrity and courage. He understood that when one of us suffers, we all suffer; and that when you empower people, you empower society as a whole.
He also understood that the desire to alleviate the suffering of others and to achieve justice transcends religion, race, gender or any other manner in which we “classify” people. There are many people in this world that would do well to take a page from Peter’s book in this regard.
Nearly three weeks ago now, my friend and neighbour at the cottage Zane Brown passed away after a very difficult battle with brain cancer. Zane embraced this diagnosis with courage, grace, dignity and humour. He remained positive and thankful for the love he had been able to share and the love that had been given to him during his too brief stay on this earth. His attitude, dignity and courage will forever remain an example to me in my daily life.
Zane was an accomplished man, having served the federal government for 37 years. He volunteered his time with the Hamilton Literacy Council to empower people in his community by giving them the gift of literacy. He gave his time to community service organizations that supported Hamilton’s most vulnerable residents. Above all else, Zane was Irma’s husband for 44 years and Carl, Eric and Kathryn’s Dad.
I first met Zane as a child; he was a friend of our family – most importantly he and his wife Irma were the very best friends of my Aunt Jane and my cousins Patty, Mary, Paula and Danny. Like Peter, Zane was much older than I but someone who left an impression. Zane and Peter were both people I knew my Mother liked and respected very much, which even as a child told me something, as she was(and is) not easily impressed.
Zane was an exceptionally bright man, to be sure -a man capable of intelligent conversation on an inordinate number of subjects. Despite this, Zane had no airs, no conceit and no arrogance. He was a warm, friendly, compassionate man who was fully engaged when he spoke to you – he had time for everyone. I recall someone sharing a story with me several years ago about how loved and respected the children he volunteered to teach golf to.
In my opinion, Zane’s character is his legacy.
This week, as I was thinking about these two men, their lives and the impression they made on mine, I also had the occasion to read Martin Luther King Jr.’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail, as part of a school requirement. As he responds to his detractors from jail, King says “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice anywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects us all directly.” I believe this is a sentiment both Zane and Peter understood. Moreover –they understood that their actions, however great or small, had the capacity to change their world. They knew that the time "just one" person spent serving others was indeed time well spent.
What does this mean to you? Well, tomorrow is Social Good Day. This initiative, conceived by Mashable and (RED) – is aimed at using social media to engender social change and encourage solutions to the pressing issues facing our world. The goal is to initiate conversations and bring communities together to generate ideas; harnessing the power of social media for social good. Tomorrow hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of “just one” will contribute to moving the world forward.
We are inextricably linked to one another in this vast world, and we have a duty to help the most vulnerable among us. Tomorrow, in honour of Peter and Zane’s legacy, I’m going to dedicate my thoughts to how I believe we can better the world, together. In the days after tomorrow, I’m going to remember that my actions (and your actions) can indeed be a force for change in the world and give my best to live so that my character is my legacy.
I hope tomorrow you can join me in doing the same in honour of someone you admire and respect – ideas can change the world; “just one” person is capable of doing the same.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
An old one, but bears re-posting
Today got me thinking about....
How fragile and tenuous our time is on this earth and how so many people waste that time trapped in fear or anger.
How unfair and arbitrary death and illness are. Just random really, and like the lottery no one knows when their number will be up. This is something we are all aware of, yet we waste so many precious moments of our lives wrapped in fear, anger, and regret or stymied by others’ ideas about who we are. We forget to say and do the most important things and expend far too much energy and time on things that, at the end of our days on this earth will be of little consequence. We worry about what others will think of us if we say or do those things that we hold in the smallest recesses of our being: our secret thoughts our secret hopes, our secret dreams and aspirations. We confine ourselves to a prescriptive notion of how we ought to live our lives that often reflects very little of whom we are.
We should wake every day and choose to be happy because ultimately it is a choice – a path only we can choose for ourselves. We should do whatever it takes to make that happen.
We should plan for and chase our dreams and goals and aspirations even if others tell us they are foolish or unattainable.
We should never live a moment of regret for all the things we might have done – for these things all remain possible so long as our hearts are still beating. We can choose to put one foot in front of the other and take the first step in that direction.
We should always take the time to say the things that are important, even if they are frightening, or put us out on a ledge from which we may not be able to climb back in, or risk us getting hurt.
We should always follow what is in our souls and listen to our hearts, in any, any situation we should be true to ourselves, what we believe and know to be right and true. We should never fall victim to someone else’s definition of who we are because truly, only we know in our hearts who we are – what makes us, us.
We should never let someone tell us what we ought to do and what we ought not to do or who we should be or not be. We should never let someone belittle our dreams and we should never do the same to anyone else. It is the spiritual equivalent of putting a pillow over someone’s head.
We should appreciate each moment, each breath that we take on this earth, each time we see the sun again and feel its presence on our skin, each time we drive with the windows down and the wind twists our hair, each time we get caught in a rainstorm and are thoroughly soaked to the bone. Each time we take part in a still and silent snowflake ballet.
Each time we feel love with a strength that is irrepressible, each time a stranger returns a smile, each time someone wraps themselves around us with a fervor that says, without a word, they have committed their soul to ours.
Each time we fall asleep on the warmth of an afternoon beach or to the drumming of rain on a tin roof, each time we feel the bliss of doing absolutely nothing or the triumph of achieving something great.
Each time our face hits the dirt, for it gives us the chance to pull ourselves up and start again.
Each time we are blessed with the laughter of a loved one or the rekindling of a friendship eclipsed by time.
Each time we wake, open our eyes and draw another breath, because it is the very embodiment of promise and potential. Each new day’s dawn, whether we see it or not, provides us another opportunity to paint our souls, to mark our presence on this earth in a way that holds meaning to us.
Most importantly, we should never forget to love those close us, no matter how painful or disappointing it may be at times. Our capacity to love is perhaps the greatest gift given to us – and we should never leave an ounce of it unspent.
How fragile and tenuous our time is on this earth and how so many people waste that time trapped in fear or anger.
How unfair and arbitrary death and illness are. Just random really, and like the lottery no one knows when their number will be up. This is something we are all aware of, yet we waste so many precious moments of our lives wrapped in fear, anger, and regret or stymied by others’ ideas about who we are. We forget to say and do the most important things and expend far too much energy and time on things that, at the end of our days on this earth will be of little consequence. We worry about what others will think of us if we say or do those things that we hold in the smallest recesses of our being: our secret thoughts our secret hopes, our secret dreams and aspirations. We confine ourselves to a prescriptive notion of how we ought to live our lives that often reflects very little of whom we are.
We should wake every day and choose to be happy because ultimately it is a choice – a path only we can choose for ourselves. We should do whatever it takes to make that happen.
We should plan for and chase our dreams and goals and aspirations even if others tell us they are foolish or unattainable.
We should never live a moment of regret for all the things we might have done – for these things all remain possible so long as our hearts are still beating. We can choose to put one foot in front of the other and take the first step in that direction.
We should always take the time to say the things that are important, even if they are frightening, or put us out on a ledge from which we may not be able to climb back in, or risk us getting hurt.
We should always follow what is in our souls and listen to our hearts, in any, any situation we should be true to ourselves, what we believe and know to be right and true. We should never fall victim to someone else’s definition of who we are because truly, only we know in our hearts who we are – what makes us, us.
We should never let someone tell us what we ought to do and what we ought not to do or who we should be or not be. We should never let someone belittle our dreams and we should never do the same to anyone else. It is the spiritual equivalent of putting a pillow over someone’s head.
We should appreciate each moment, each breath that we take on this earth, each time we see the sun again and feel its presence on our skin, each time we drive with the windows down and the wind twists our hair, each time we get caught in a rainstorm and are thoroughly soaked to the bone. Each time we take part in a still and silent snowflake ballet.
Each time we feel love with a strength that is irrepressible, each time a stranger returns a smile, each time someone wraps themselves around us with a fervor that says, without a word, they have committed their soul to ours.
Each time we fall asleep on the warmth of an afternoon beach or to the drumming of rain on a tin roof, each time we feel the bliss of doing absolutely nothing or the triumph of achieving something great.
Each time our face hits the dirt, for it gives us the chance to pull ourselves up and start again.
Each time we are blessed with the laughter of a loved one or the rekindling of a friendship eclipsed by time.
Each time we wake, open our eyes and draw another breath, because it is the very embodiment of promise and potential. Each new day’s dawn, whether we see it or not, provides us another opportunity to paint our souls, to mark our presence on this earth in a way that holds meaning to us.
Most importantly, we should never forget to love those close us, no matter how painful or disappointing it may be at times. Our capacity to love is perhaps the greatest gift given to us – and we should never leave an ounce of it unspent.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Thursday: Procrastipolitics
I happened to come across an article today regarding voter anger in the Toronto Mayoralty race.
It appears, Torontonians are mad as hell (no kidding) and suggests that mayoralty candidate Rob Ford is capitalizing on this anger in a substantial way – pulling support from those I would consider to be the race’s more credible candidates.
The article refers to anger as a powerful political motivator – citing examples (among them Brian Mulroney and Bob Rae) of politicians who have fallen at the hands of voter anger. It also presents anger as a meaningful force in politics - as evidenced in both the Civil Rights movement in the United States and the global Women’s movement.
This reference stopped me dead in my tracks. Yes, the thousands of people involved in the Civil Rights movement and the Women’s movement were (and in the latter case, are) angry – but this anger came from a desire to change deep seated bigotry and injustice.
The Civil Rights movement, let me be clear, was a positive outlet for that anger – transforming it in to action that served some meaningful end.
I’m not in any way trying to minimize the displeasure Torontonians have with their City Hall, and I’m not speaking as an outsider, I lived there for 4 years.
It is my strong feeling; however, that this is misplaced anger and hatefulness that is nourished by the rhetoric spewed by Rob Ford. (It’s a pretty cynical campaign strategy. No ideas – just feed voters their daily dose of angry, keep your name in their proverbial headlights -and BANG, you’re elected.)
Anger is insatiable when it has no positive outlet. It merely feeds on itself, exponentially increasing the negative feelings of the person holding the anger.
True, anger is better than apathy – but only if it is directed at some concrete end. We are blessed to live a free and democratic society, where we have the right to elect our leaders, to voice our opinion at the ballot box and to shape the future of our cities, provinces and country with our ideas and our votes.
Respectfully, Torontonians need to get a hold of themselves and act objectively, fully considering the consequences of voting out of anger. Listen to what Rob Ford is really saying and examine carefully what kind of city he’s offering – do you really want him to be the face of your city?
If I could provide one piece of advice to the people of Toronto it would be this – Think. Educate. Vote.
What do I mean by this?
Think - Consider what kind of City you want to live in. Look at other Cities across the world that you think are exemplary – what do they do? What do you believe to be the key action points that Toronto needs to deliver on to make it a world class City?
We all lead busy lives, in a world where almost every moment of our time is consumed with some pressing decision that needs our attention or some piece of information that we just have to consume. The kind of City (world) you want to live in is a decision that merits thoughtful consideration.
Educate (Yourself) – Yes, read the paper every day, but don’t rely on that as your sole source of information. Find out what the people you respect think; what the leaders of your community think, about the choices before you. Attend debates if you can. Ask questions. Ask thoughtful questions. Call, e-mail or write the campaign offices of the candidates. Your vote is important to them, in the very least a campaign official should call you back or the candidate should respond via e-mail or phone. We live in an age where communication is Queen, arguably, there is no reason for voters to be unable to access candidates wanting their votes.
Vote – This one should be fairly straightforward. Vote. Pardon my French, but get up off your Ass and Vote. I can’t put it any plainer than this, people died for your right to vote, and people continue to die for other people’s right to vote – don’t trivialize the loss of their lives because you are “too busy” to get to a polling station. Call your chosen candidate’s office, chances are, they’ll drive you there and maybe even give you a coffee and a cookie for exercising your democratic right.
Having gone on a diatribe about voting (it really gets me going), I’m now going to place an asterix * on my previous comment. If you haven’t taken the two steps before the Vote and you’re voting purely out of anger and venom, without fully considering the weight of your decision, you’d be better off to stay home – chances are you’ll regret your decision within a year. Act in haste, repent at leisure - just ask the people of Ottawa.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Larry_O
It appears, Torontonians are mad as hell (no kidding) and suggests that mayoralty candidate Rob Ford is capitalizing on this anger in a substantial way – pulling support from those I would consider to be the race’s more credible candidates.
The article refers to anger as a powerful political motivator – citing examples (among them Brian Mulroney and Bob Rae) of politicians who have fallen at the hands of voter anger. It also presents anger as a meaningful force in politics - as evidenced in both the Civil Rights movement in the United States and the global Women’s movement.
This reference stopped me dead in my tracks. Yes, the thousands of people involved in the Civil Rights movement and the Women’s movement were (and in the latter case, are) angry – but this anger came from a desire to change deep seated bigotry and injustice.
The Civil Rights movement, let me be clear, was a positive outlet for that anger – transforming it in to action that served some meaningful end.
I’m not in any way trying to minimize the displeasure Torontonians have with their City Hall, and I’m not speaking as an outsider, I lived there for 4 years.
It is my strong feeling; however, that this is misplaced anger and hatefulness that is nourished by the rhetoric spewed by Rob Ford. (It’s a pretty cynical campaign strategy. No ideas – just feed voters their daily dose of angry, keep your name in their proverbial headlights -and BANG, you’re elected.)
Anger is insatiable when it has no positive outlet. It merely feeds on itself, exponentially increasing the negative feelings of the person holding the anger.
True, anger is better than apathy – but only if it is directed at some concrete end. We are blessed to live a free and democratic society, where we have the right to elect our leaders, to voice our opinion at the ballot box and to shape the future of our cities, provinces and country with our ideas and our votes.
Respectfully, Torontonians need to get a hold of themselves and act objectively, fully considering the consequences of voting out of anger. Listen to what Rob Ford is really saying and examine carefully what kind of city he’s offering – do you really want him to be the face of your city?
If I could provide one piece of advice to the people of Toronto it would be this – Think. Educate. Vote.
What do I mean by this?
Think - Consider what kind of City you want to live in. Look at other Cities across the world that you think are exemplary – what do they do? What do you believe to be the key action points that Toronto needs to deliver on to make it a world class City?
We all lead busy lives, in a world where almost every moment of our time is consumed with some pressing decision that needs our attention or some piece of information that we just have to consume. The kind of City (world) you want to live in is a decision that merits thoughtful consideration.
Educate (Yourself) – Yes, read the paper every day, but don’t rely on that as your sole source of information. Find out what the people you respect think; what the leaders of your community think, about the choices before you. Attend debates if you can. Ask questions. Ask thoughtful questions. Call, e-mail or write the campaign offices of the candidates. Your vote is important to them, in the very least a campaign official should call you back or the candidate should respond via e-mail or phone. We live in an age where communication is Queen, arguably, there is no reason for voters to be unable to access candidates wanting their votes.
Vote – This one should be fairly straightforward. Vote. Pardon my French, but get up off your Ass and Vote. I can’t put it any plainer than this, people died for your right to vote, and people continue to die for other people’s right to vote – don’t trivialize the loss of their lives because you are “too busy” to get to a polling station. Call your chosen candidate’s office, chances are, they’ll drive you there and maybe even give you a coffee and a cookie for exercising your democratic right.
Having gone on a diatribe about voting (it really gets me going), I’m now going to place an asterix * on my previous comment. If you haven’t taken the two steps before the Vote and you’re voting purely out of anger and venom, without fully considering the weight of your decision, you’d be better off to stay home – chances are you’ll regret your decision within a year. Act in haste, repent at leisure - just ask the people of Ottawa.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Larry_O
Thursday, June 3, 2010
So, I registered this blog many many months ago, when I was looking for a way to reignite my love of writing and was encouraged by a number of friends to start a blog.
Being an individual with a vast array of interests, I struggled with the notion of starting a blog - what would I write about? (And why on earth would anyone else want to read my ramblings?)
Truth be told, I thought blogging was somewhat sillly and possibly risky - who knows who you're going to offend, right? Then I noticed how many people I respected and liked were engaged in this so-called silliness.
The blog's name actually became the impetus for this little project and the scope that it would take.
Being an individual with a vast array of interests, I struggled with the notion of starting a blog - what would I write about? (And why on earth would anyone else want to read my ramblings?)
Truth be told, I thought blogging was somewhat sillly and possibly risky - who knows who you're going to offend, right? Then I noticed how many people I respected and liked were engaged in this so-called silliness.
The blog's name actually became the impetus for this little project and the scope that it would take.
For those of you who have not been enligtened, Procasticleaning is word, a verb, an activity; it was created because I, like many other people, am an inveterate procrastinator. I found myself one afternoon, partaking in a most unfavourite activity (namely cleaning) to avoid doing some other kind of work. Hence, procrasticleaning.
In sharing my newly created word with others, I realized I had stumbled upon something that was not only funny (surprise), but relatable. Procrasticleaning, along with procrastishopping, procrastidancing, procrasticwriting...is something we all do. How often in our world this is percieved as a negative, when actually (in my opinion anyway) time well "wasted" can, in fact be the impetus for something beautifully creative, something profound, something that may just turn the world on its head.
Just think of all of the things we might not be fortunate enough to enjoy today if somone had not let their mind go for a walk into the imagination of the possible.
It's purpose here is to recognize the value of procrastination, for the potential that it holds and the enjoyment that it brings (and also because this broad definition lets me talk about whatever I want here).
Here's to procrasticleaning...and possibly turning the world on its head...hope you enjoy.
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