A small essay for all my unmarried sisters out there – those I know, and those I don’t, those I’ve met and those I haven’t. Those who have found themselves, find themselves or are at risk of finding themselves in this rather precarious state of affairs.
What state of affairs you ask?
Well, the one where you delude yourself in to believing that you have found your soulmate, and all that need happen now is for the stars to align, (with some gentle prodding, ahem) and you will be on your way to eternal wedded bliss (or cohabitation, depending on your approach to committed affairs of the heart.)
Please, I beg of you, do not take this personally. It is not intended to be a slight of you, or to suggest that you are somehow less of a human being, pathetic or undeserving – quite the contrary, in fact. Nor is it intended to suggest that I am some all knowing, omnipotent goddess who has never treaded in to these dangerous woods. Finally, this is not to dissuade you from investing yourself in to another person – or in to finding your ‘soulmate’. But this is a subject I have been contemplating for some time from a number of lenses – personal, cultural, educational and I feel now, having observed and reflected on this situation, that it is incumbent on me to share what I have learned.
Deep breath.
If he’s married, engaged to, dating or sleeping with someone else and you, he is NOT your soulmate. I don’t care how great your conversations are, how he can “see inside you”, knows you better than you know yourself or shares your unique fascination with post-perestroika Russian literature – this relationship is circling the proverbial bowl. Flush it and be done.
If you are routinely “strategically placing” yourself in places where you know he’s likely to be, and you are likely not to be, and he has yet to recognize this and act on it, he is NOT your soulmate. For example “Oh hi Ellen, wow, you must really like curling, this is the 7th time in a month, well gotta go and meet my team for beers.” Stop. Spend your time doing something you actually enjoy and increases your chances of meeting someone who enjoys those same things and what the hell – enjoys you too!
If you’ve been together for 7 years and you have been clear about your desire to get married and he hasn’t proposed. He isn’t going to. I propose to you that he is NOT your soulmate and you might be better off investing your time building a more perfect union with yourself than with a dude who’s not investing in you.
If he only calls you between the hours of 12 and 4 am and he’s not a cab driver, trucker or a shift worker. He is NOT your soulmate. It’s a booty call. Take that booty to someone who wants more than the call.
If he never calls, or never returns your calls, hang up on this one, he ain’t hung up on you. NOT your soulmate.
Squirming and seeking ways to avoid talking to you, i.e. – staring over your head as though he is looking for someone else does not mean that he’s had a bad day or his mind is pre-occupied with that thing he has to do later or he’s nervous. It means he’s trying to avoid talking to you and NOT your soulmate. Eject yourself from this conversation and go find someone who’s interested in what you have to say and not the EXIT sign over your head.
If he has an unnaturally close relationship with his ex-girlfriend; one that’s eerily closer than the one you and he have, sweetheart, he is NOT your soulmate he’s hers (whether he knows it or not and whether she agrees with it or not).
If he has an unnaturally bad relationship with his ex-girlfriend, you know like the one that’s prevented him from bringing you to family gatherings even though you’ve been dating for a year, the same one that makes him unable to commit to more than one night a week. You guessed it, NOT your soulmate.
If he has an unnaturally close (read: weird) relationship with his guy friend, his mother, his old University professor or his work colleague, well you just have to trust your spidey senses and ask yourself....do I even want this guy to be my soulmate? NOT.
If everything would be perfect but that one little thing, or maybe one or two little things, like the way he does that thing, or that thing that he never does, or that thing that he always does. There’s a reason why you’re fixated on that one little thing, and it’s not going to change. Stop trying to change him. He is NOT your soulmate.
Well, now that I have angered about 95% of you and invited what I am going to guess will be stinging criticism of my observations, I have to say these comments were intended with the best of intentions. You see, I’ve watched so many friends waste their time pumping their potential, energy and resources in to empty vessels that are never going to set sail.
I understand, all too well, that affairs of the heart are complex and require much more thoughtful consideration than you think I have given them, but these my friends aren’t affairs of the heart, they’re travesties of the heart. It doesn’t require much more thoughtful consideration than this – if the other person in the relationship isn’t thoughtfully considering you, then you need to be considerate of yourself and consider the relationship, real or hopeful, over.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Friday, December 17, 2010
Ho Ho Hold Your Temper
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.
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.
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.
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