Expat

Today is saint-Jean-Baptiste day but it felt like any other day, here in Ontario, apart from an article in the Citizen (of all places - they are usually not too francophile) talking about 41 reasons to rejoice at the Saint-Jean-Baptiste and sending greetings to "have a good one". For the first since I moved here in 1990, I felt a little saddened by that fact. That was my warm and fuzzy feeling for the day... There were no flags, no reminder of that special day. I felt a tinge of envy towards those fortunate enough to be annoyed by the noise or resentful of the celebratory mood. You can afford to not fully appreciate the companionship when it is so freely given.
Or maybe I was just in a melancholy mood.
I sent a few emails to friends in Montreal, asking if or how they were celebrating. No answer. Were they out? Was it a no-brainer?A non-issue? What's the deal? Sigh.
We had a good dinner (no BBQ because of the impending rain, a toast to highlight the day, and that was it.
So - to all expats - Joyeuse Saint-Jean-Baptiste!

Grandma smell

I hit another "grandma smell" yesterday. I tended to the tomato patch, nipping off the little suckers that, well, suck out the plants energy and divert it to branches with no flowers (hence, no fruits, later on). The green smell I had on my hands so vividly called upon my grandma. We used to tend her vegetable patch together - she grew lots of tomatoes, green and yellow beans and... really, I don't remember much else.
As much as my father loved to experiment in his patch - growing enormous zucchinis that only a zucchini bread could handle - my grandma was a woman of tried and true things. We ate countless loads of fresh vegetables all summer, and our neighbours also benefitted from her green thumb. She also loved flowers and when we went on walks she would recognize the houses or streets by the flowers that were grown. I was fortunate to see the world through her eyes and learn to appreciate "things that grew". My world was around my friends - this is Susan's house, the neighbour has a dog. My grandma would recognize the double geraniums or the well-tended begonias. And we would go on chatting, sharing our worlds and appreciating each other's company.
I love the green smell.

Father's Day

My Dad loves trees.
When I was too young to go to church, I would go just for the pleasure of his company. We would walk to church and he would name all the trees we passed by and tell me about them.
He still goes to church. I live in the countryside, surrounded by trees.
Thanks for sharing your love of Nature with me, Dad. Happy Father's Day.

Summer Reading

For summer reading, I recommend "Heat". That's not true, though it's all about being very hot (think polar caps melting), it is not a light, fun read. On the contrary, it talks about the very serious issue of global warming. Between this and a thriller, Heat is scarier. It is also a "dry" read (no pun intended) and a slow one because of the topic.

I am not done but will start commenting on Heat now as there will be time to write other posts about it. If I don't post now, I will certainly forget what moved me, because it is such a slow read and my memory span is... well, as short as ever.

The net effect of this book is that I have started paying attention to what politicians say about global warming. I look for articles on global warming to try and make up my own mind on what is going on. Monbiot, the author, exposes where disinformation is coming from and who benefits from it.
Examples of government neglect are taken from the UK - for the Canadian edition, a virulent attack on Harper's ineptitude was added. This covers the first few chapters.

After identifying CO2 as the main culprit, we learn where the bulk of it comes from and what needs to be done to remedy that. In the UK, for example, houses are badly insulated and so people heat and heat throughout winter, burning coal and releasing tons of CO2 in the atmosphere. The author goes on to explore ways to "fix" the houses as well as alternate means of generating clean energy: nuclear power? wind mills? he goes through the list and shares his findings with us.

It is quite a disheartening and sobering read. A needed one too. The least it did for me was raise my awareness (as An Inconvenient Truth had done before) of things I can do on my own to make a difference. And so I read on and urge you to do the same.

(Add subliminal message here: Buy the book! Buy the book! jk - Blues bro lent me a copy. I am sure your local library has it.)

Sens fever

It seems a lot of fans believe that what they do influences the outcome of the game (for those not paying attention, I am talking about the hockey finals for the Stanley Cup between the Senators and the Ducks).

I heard first- or second-hand stories of magical thinking told by the most balanced people. For example: "Don't yell at them (the Senators), you will destroy their confidence." Or "If I pay too much attention to the game, the other team scores. If I go to another room, the Sens bounce back." Those people are watching the games on tv, in their homes, and are otherwise quite rational. Why do they admit to this magical thinking? I can only surmise they believe it works that way.

Babies with little experience in life will believe that they control curtains blown by the wind. We teach them about the wind and they drop that idea. Suppose we're wrong? We go to great lenght to recapture the innocence of our youth. Religions and philosophies expound on the clarity of a child's simple mind that sees things as they are. Some are based on the premise that we are all interconnected : if that is so, then every fan's doubt or vote of confidence trips his hero or sends the puck flying in the net.

The Senators won 5-3 last night. I, for one, think the fans were doing something right...