Death of a Bridesmaid

"Hi Nan, it's Nan."  That was how we greeted each other when we phoned.  We were both Nancy's.

My buddy, Nancy

Now one of us has died.  Born 12 days apart, we met at university and became inseparable during the three glorious and crazy years we spent wreaking havoc throughout those hallowed halls.  Reading in 'The Globe and Mail' she had died shocked me to the core.  How could she be dead?!  She was only 77 -- same age as I.  How could she be dead?!

She was one of my bridesmaids when I married my first husband, but as close as we once were, we lost touch over the years.  We both moved to Toronto after graduation and both worked in the publishing business, but life intervened.  I moved back to Ottawa, she stayed in Toronto.  I did try to re-connect and we got together a couple of times when she visited Ottawa, or I Toronto.  But life intervened again.  

I think I turned her off during one visit to TO when I incredously asked her why she still smoked?!  She got testy and after that, I did not hear from her again.  I wonder if she continued to smoke until she died?  She was stubborn, so probably.

She opted not to have kids; I had two and two stepchildren.  As I said, life intervened.  But before it did, we caroused around Ottawa and Hull with various boyfriends hitting all the bars, dance halls, dives and dumps we university students frequented.

One of her boyfriends introduced me my first NHL boyfriend, Bryan Watson.  (My other was Brian Smith, the guy who was tragically shot by a lunatic in the parking lot of CJOH.) With a face like a road map, a nose smashed in and many false teeth, Bryan managed to be the most charming of fellas.  My mother adored him.  

One of our favourite haunts was the 'Chamberlain Hotel' in Alymer.  There we'd order quarts of beer, or a tray of draft at 10 cents a glass and dance to the 'Hughie Scott Band'.  Those were magical days, my friends, and we (literally) soaked them up until closing time at two a.m.  Then I'd have to get up at six to catch the bus to my summer job at Tunney's Pasture.  How I did that, I have no clue?!  Ah, youth.

I'd stagger home after work and tell my Mother I was definitely not going out that night, as I went upstairs and crashed on my bed.  But Bryan would always show up and charm my Mother.  "Dear, Bryan's downstairs and he said he'd wait for you to have a nap."  So, up I'd get, go out and start all over again.

Rest in peace, Nancy my old friend.  My memories will always be of our 'Glory Days'. 

Why?

Apparently, Special US Prosecutor Jack Smith, who lost his attempt to get Trump convicted on charges of providing hush money to one of the latter's paramours, has resigned.

Mr. Smith goes to Washington.

Please fill me in.  Why is giving someone money a crime?  So, Trump gave money to a call girl.  So what?  Reminds me of the travesty here in Canada in 2013, when Mike Duffy was given $90,000 by Nigel Wright, then chief of staff in Harper's PMO.  So what?  Wright gave money to Duffy for whatever reason and who cares?!  It's a personal matter.  Same with Trump, who, by the way, received no penalty for the so-called "crime".  Correct.  He should not have been penalized.

People get money all the time for providing sexual services -- including respectable wives of rich men.  So, in my world, giving someone money for sex is not a crime. And neither is keeping it a secret.  Extra-marital affair anyone?

What is a crime, however, is the latest Palestinian scandal in Montreal.  Illegal immigrants came to Montreal and set up camp in Victoria Park -- complete with tents and caravans.  They defaced the statue of Queen Victoria and tried to tear it down.  So wrong.  The police eventually evicted them, because law-abiding Montrealers could not use the park, paid for with their tax dollars.  In the process, a few tents and trailers were damaged because the "residents" fought back.

But what did these criminals do?  Why, they hired a lawyer and have now demanded $30,000 each for their illegal occupation of an encampment from which they were correctly evicted.

It's insane!

Pollievre has to clean up our immigration system and all the illegals who are abusing us.  

I'm sick of it.

I also want to tell you about a "God among us" moment the other day.  My 24-year-old Honda Civic would not start because the key would not engage.  Jiggle as I tried, it would not start.  So, there I was, sitting on a side street, outside my daughter's school, where I had been doing extra volunteer reading with some of her grade-two students.  

I love reading with them and am so happy daughter has invited me to participate, but when I tried to start my car, it wouldn't.  Looking across the street, I spied a young man and hailed him.  "My car won't start," I cried.  True to the "Alberta way", he jumped out of his truck.  

"What's the problem," he asked.  "My ignition won't ignite," I said.  So he sat in the driver's seat, took over and jiggled with the key.  It started.  "I'm a mechanic and I know what the problem is," he told me, explaining how to fix it.

What are the odds I would be parked immobile across from a mechanic who could fix my car?!!  

As I said, A God Moment.  

   

   

Will Elizabeth May get the same?

First it was Jack Layton, the woebegone leader of the New Democratic Party (NDP).  Then it was John Horgan, the maladroit leader of B.C's freak NDP party and premier of that bizarre province for two years.

Will the Green Party's hapless Elizabeth May be next?  I mean, how far down the totem will we go?  Mayors?  Local councillors?  High school teachers?  

I'm talking about State Funerals.  These n'er do wells were all given them.  Why?  Who knows, but it must all be about politics and votes.  In Canada, a State Funeral is supposed to be given to prime ministers, members of cabinet and governors general who die while in office.  Last time I checked, neither Layton nor Horgan fit this description.  

And as for May, well forget about it.  She is the one and only member of the Greens in the House, but judging by how cavalierly such funerals are meted out, I would not be surprised if she gets one too.

Did I ever tell you about the time I was cornered at a cocktail party by May?  Gawd!  I thought I would die on the spot of boredom!  She blathered on and on and said nothing, while I fortified and steeled myself with a few glasses of wine.  It was torture!  

I mean seriously.  Canada has lost its pathetic way.  

And speaking of pathetic, Justin Trudeau has finally resigned.  But not really because he's going to hang around until the end of March while a new leader is chosen.  So, when Trump gets into office, we'll be trounced because we will have a lame-duck eunuch of a prime minister bumming around.

"Forgotten, but not gone", is how JFK once described  a hanger on still in his employ.  That'll be Trudeau.  As I have told you, my stepson played soccer in the same league as little Justin in the early eighters.  He was a spoiled brat then.  One morning, as Margaret was lounging stoned on the pitch sidelines, Justin picked up a rock and smashed it over my stepson's head.  What did Margaret do?  Why, she roared with laughter and did nothing to discipline her wretched, spoiled child.

Our still PM

That's why he turned out as he did.  A narcissistic, entitled man-child who has brought our country to the edge of ruin.  His hubris knows no bounds.  B thinks it will take eight years for us to recover, but Justin is determined to continue to wreak havoc to ensure Pollievre inherits an unholy mess.

The poor guy.

And as for Mark Carney, the best description I can come up with is "unelectable snob".  Everyone goes on about his brilliant career, but remember, he was appointed to a five-year term as governor of the Bank of England, but fired after just two.  Ever wonder why?  Yeah, exactly.

   

 

A shout out to first responders

A member of my family is a first responder and he deserves a huge shout out for the work he does.  He had to attend the scene of the brutal murder of a Calgary mother of three young children, killed by their father.  After shooting his wife, the husband next went to his father-in-law's home and murdered him too.  Then he shot himself, leaving three babies parent-less.

The very next day, this stalwart firefighter showed up at B's birthday lunch, looking happy and cheerful.  How he does this, I do not know?  But I am very proud of him.

Brave and selfless first responders

_______________________________

On another front, the 'Globe and Mail' featured a front-page story of a native woman from the Wikemikoong reserve on Manitoulin Island who had to boil her drinking water for 14 years.  Naturally, I asked myself why?  

Pulling back the curtain, as is my wont, I learned that only 8,431 souls inhabit this reserve -- a reserve given $13 billion in 1995 for use of its land and another $10 billion from the Robinson Huron treaty.  In addition, they received $1.4 billion in the "Cows and Plows" settlement in 2024.

That's a TON of money.  So, why did she have to boil her water?  Why didn't the chiefs of her reserve install a filtration system?  And why didn't 'The Globe' look into, and publish, these facts?  Because they were inconvenient and ruined the narrative of the woebegone woman who had to boil her water.

Naturally, she doesn't look to her own leadership for answers.  OMG, never!  She blames "Ottawa".   Why, of course she does. 

The 1.8 million native in this country are handed more than $32 billion a year.  Adding in all the other Indigenous groups that are also handed money, it amounts to $2,034,970,155.  That's more than $2 trillion!!$!@#%^^$@!!

If you're sick of it all, trust me, I am too.