Monthly Archives: April 2017

A Blast From the Past

Punishments. It is a part of the growing process when it is done correctly. I was punished as a child. I was given the strap. No wait a minute. My brother and sister hid the strap when we moved one year and I never got it. They say that accounts for the deficiency in my character. Ok, I had a wooden spoon whacked across my backside. I think. I remember the wooden spoon and I remember (sometimes) what I did to deserve it but I’m not sure where I got it. I do remember getting my mouth washed out with soap. Talk about a punishment! It was for spitting and I tell you, it was fifty some odd years ago, and I can still taste the soap and I have never spit again. Period. End of story. Prison wardens have nothing on my mother when it came to punishments. Wait a minute. That wasn’t the best punishment she ever dished out. There is an episode that my sister and I both remember. It was that severe. The anguish that it caused at the time and the pain it can still bring to mind…. My mother was an expert at inflicting just the right punishment. Read on.

My sister and I fought. This is no surprise to anyone with two daughters I am sure. She is older than I am and I always admired her. No wait a minute, I was a kid. I was jealous. As an adult it is admiration, as a kid it is jealousy. I don’t remember what we were fighting about. It was just something we did. We fought. But my mom didn’t care for it. I guess we must have been pretty loud because my mother opened the front door and left. She just left. Her own house. Our fighting had driven our mother away! Talk about a guilt trip! I followed mom down the street to a dead end. She was just sitting on the curb crying. Wow. Powerful imagery for a child. We had made our mom cry. Fifty some years later I can still remember the feel of that curb. Now I am sure my sister and I still fought in those days but we never again drove our mother out of the house. At least I don’t remember. (My sister and I are now adults and we don’t fight – but that is for another book).


The Cowboy and the Pen



He rode the trails

For days untold

He slept beneath the stars

His pony and his saddle

With justice on his hip

Men were hard

And women true

It was so long ago

The law was in the barrel

A bullet the execution

Was it better then?

Now the cowboy has a pen

Justice slow but true

The pony now is stationery

Tucked into a desk

The stars are hidden

Far from sight

The days are foggy too

Justice now is talked about

And sometimes meted out

But times are slow

And opinions matter

Does Fairness have a chance?

The power of the pen they say

Is swift and it is blunt

But time goes on

And pens run dry

Is it better now?

World Issues

I live in Canada. It is a first world country. It is large, it is diverse and it is home. When I complain about anything it’s usually about the weather (we have lots of it here!) or perhaps I have a hangnail, maybe a bad night’s sleep where I was up all night watching television. I don’t complain about lack of food or water. I don’t worry about armed thugs breaking down my door and dragging me away to prison. I have a government that protects me and that I respect. It’s not like that everywhere.

I wish I had the ability to protect every child from the horrors that exist throughout the world. I wish I had the power to eliminate wars, famine and abuse. I do not. What I do have is the will to be a part of the solution. There may not be much I can do physically but I can donate to the agencies that are trying to help. I can ensure that my politicians act responsibly to guarantee that we are a country that helps.

We must never lose sight of the need to remember. One of the reasons that history is taught to our children is to ensure that atrocities are never forgotten and that the goodness that has existed in the past is remembered as well. We are not all bad. Some days it’s difficult. I listen to the news and I am appalled. But I have that righteous indignation from a safe place and that makes me sad.

I wonder if I have the right to pass judgment on the atrocities I see on the news. Do I have the right to judge anyone? The news tells us part of the story but I’m convinced that we don’t hear it all. Perhaps there are reasons not made clear that would explain why people do what they do. Would I understand? Perhaps, perhaps not.

I have always lived a privileged life. I have never been wealthy. But I live in a wealthy country. We are by no means perfect but I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. I have experienced the outdoors first hand through pristine wilderness, clear water and a night sky unblemished by light pollution. I have traveled in my own country and witnessed the incredible diversity of its people and of it’s land. I haven’t seen it all but I know it’s there. I hope it stays intact for the next generation and the one after that and the one after that . . .

Did you know that within the boundaries of Canada there are more freshwater lakes then in the rest of the world combined? If a dome were placed over Canada with nothing getting in or out, our lifestyle would not change significantly. We have it all. But we are not greedy, fortunately. As a people we are known for our kindness and for our sharing. That makes me happy. There are many good people throughout this entire world but sometimes it’s hard to believe it. But I believe. I have faith. We are all in this together and no one gets out alive.

Sorry if this post is a little melancholy but that is how I have been feeling the last few days. See, I wanted to share . . .