That's today's watchword. Now the Stoney Lakoda "Nation" want everything re-named with Indian names here in Alberta. Really??!! Calgary, the Bow River, Canmore -- you name it -- everything must be renamed because they don't want "foreign" designations on anything in Canada anywhere near their reserve.
Hey, if that's the case, the entire country should be "Indian". Not gonna happen.
Calgary was not established by the natives, but by James Macleod who named it after the Scottish town in which his sister lived. It's bad enough idiots want to erase the name of Sir John A. Macdonald -- the Father of Confederation -- from everything because in a well-meaning move the guy tried to educate natives. Now the demand is for everything to be re-named. That would mean Montreal would become "Hochelaga"....and on....and on....and on.....
You can't erase history just because fashion has changed. The revered Langevin Block, named for Hector Langevin, has now been disgracefully re-named "The Prime Minister's Office". What a joke.
Margaret Atwood also practices "Nimby-ism". She recently got into a big fight with developers in Toronto who had the nerve to want to build a not-very-high highrise condo in her tony Annex neighbourhood, which would have spoiled her view. Eff off, Ms. Atwood.
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
Saturday, November 11, 2017
A very "white" ceremony
Watching the Remembrance Day Service from Ottawa and it struck me. How "white" it was. All the vets and most attendees were white. Why is that? I guess we all know the answer: Canada is a "country of convenience" for most immigrants; they don't really feel "Canadian".
How sad.
And speaking of sad, there was our disaster of a Governor General strolling about with her son! As I have blogged, the occupant of the office represents The Queen of Canada, Elizabeth II, who would never have brought one of her kids along when on official duty. Ludicrous -- a 15-year-old walking the receiving line shaking hands with revered veterans! Ludicrous. My step-son was forced into the role of "alter husband" when B and his ex divorced. It completely screwed him up and I see the same thing with that poor kid. Hey, if you divorce your husband, don't co-opt your kid into being your chaperone. You wanted to go it alone, so do.
As a child, I remember attending the ceremony at The Cenotaph with my mother, aunts and cousins. My late Uncle Rollie was a vet and always a part of the ceremony. The last time we took him he was very old, but gamely stood to honour his fallen comrades. I miss him to this day. My own father and other uncle were not permitted to join up; the former being in the midst of inventing synthetic rubber and the latter running the finance department that funded the exercise.
When our kids were little and into their teens, we always took them out of school to bring them to "Confusion Square", as my mother called it, for the service. B's father and two uncles fought, one dying at 23 on the march to Florence.
Watching the service today, I was reminded of my step-son, Scott Marley-Clarke (see above), who used to be proud to attend with his father. Sadly, since he asked for yet more money last March and was finally told "no", we haven't heard a word. It has been eight months. I would not like to be in his shoes when his father dies because G-d help him if he shows his face at the funeral. How you can eliminate your own father, as he has done, is beyond me. Unforgiveable. I would give anything to have mine back. RIP.
How sad.
And speaking of sad, there was our disaster of a Governor General strolling about with her son! As I have blogged, the occupant of the office represents The Queen of Canada, Elizabeth II, who would never have brought one of her kids along when on official duty. Ludicrous -- a 15-year-old walking the receiving line shaking hands with revered veterans! Ludicrous. My step-son was forced into the role of "alter husband" when B and his ex divorced. It completely screwed him up and I see the same thing with that poor kid. Hey, if you divorce your husband, don't co-opt your kid into being your chaperone. You wanted to go it alone, so do.
As a child, I remember attending the ceremony at The Cenotaph with my mother, aunts and cousins. My late Uncle Rollie was a vet and always a part of the ceremony. The last time we took him he was very old, but gamely stood to honour his fallen comrades. I miss him to this day. My own father and other uncle were not permitted to join up; the former being in the midst of inventing synthetic rubber and the latter running the finance department that funded the exercise.
When our kids were little and into their teens, we always took them out of school to bring them to "Confusion Square", as my mother called it, for the service. B's father and two uncles fought, one dying at 23 on the march to Florence.
Watching the service today, I was reminded of my step-son, Scott Marley-Clarke (see above), who used to be proud to attend with his father. Sadly, since he asked for yet more money last March and was finally told "no", we haven't heard a word. It has been eight months. I would not like to be in his shoes when his father dies because G-d help him if he shows his face at the funeral. How you can eliminate your own father, as he has done, is beyond me. Unforgiveable. I would give anything to have mine back. RIP.
Friday, November 10, 2017
A tribute
Dear Josie, only 19 and killed herself. She was a staff member at the Calgary Tennis Club and one of the most beautiful people inside and out, with a smile that lit up the room. The last time I saw her was at the club's closing party a few weeks ago. She poured me wine and was her usual, charming self.
We went to her funeral today, but who knew what lurked under the surface? One never does. My brother committed suicide and frankly, nothing could have stopped him. For those who say, "spot the signs and danger signals and intervene," I say you may, but you can't stop someone who is determined to kill themselves.
Rest in Peace, dear little Josie. xoxo
We went to her funeral today, but who knew what lurked under the surface? One never does. My brother committed suicide and frankly, nothing could have stopped him. For those who say, "spot the signs and danger signals and intervene," I say you may, but you can't stop someone who is determined to kill themselves.
Rest in Peace, dear little Josie. xoxo
Yep
Me too. When I was 12, my orthodontist, Richard B, sexually molested me. While confined to his chair, I would recoil as his hand "slipped" farther and farther down my chest until it was resting on one of my breasts. Panic-stricken, I tried to tell myself he hadn't done it on purpose, but he had and I knew it. And all the while, my mother -- who thought Dr. B the most gorgeous thing ever -- was sitting blissfully unaware in his waiting room. Did I ever tell her? Not on your life because I assumed it was my fault for being too cute.
Even when he would tell me to stand up against the wall, because he said he couldn't see into my mouth properly (as if!!), and pressed his groin on me I still didn't say a word to anyone. Again, it must have been my fault.
Years and years later, I was invited to the Britannia Yacht Club and whose picture was on the wall in all its glory? Yep, Richard B's. He was the Commodore and I was sorely disappointed he hadn't been there because I would have confronted him in all his public splendor. What still amazes me is that no one has ever charged him -- at least to my knowledge -- because I could not have been the only one he had done this to?!
With everything that's cascading out about women and girls having been assaulted, these incidents come back to me. So too did another that took place at a cottage when I was about 20, where a young man forced himself upon me. In spite of my protestations, he would not desist and I, not wanting to wake up his parents by making a scene, eventually succumbed. "Don't make a scene," was the watchword back in those days. God!
When the phone rang in my hotel room late one night in Vancouver in 1976, I sleepily picked it up. "Could you please come to my room, I want to go over the speech," said a prominent Quebec minister in Trudeau senior's cabinet. Turned out that wasn't what he wanted to "go over". Having just had a baby and no job, I was freelancing as a speech writer, hoping to get a permanent placement in a government department. Knowing this minister was key in securing me one, I had to comply. While not technically "rape", it was not consensual. Or maybe it was rape, even though I did not physically fight his advances. I felt obliged to succumb because he had the power and I needed him to use it for me. That's just the way it was. So much for Trudeau junior's "feminist" claims. Please.
The next day the cottage guy and his mother were laughing uproariously about it. A few years later, when attending a parent-teacher event, I ran into Bill M again. He was the chair of the association -- a supposedly upstanding citizen. What a laugh! This time I reminded him: "Hey Bill, remember when you raped me at your parents' cottage in 1967?" His adoring audience was dumbstruck, as he tried to laugh it off, but you have never seen anyone run away so fast in your life.
All this to say that so many of us have been subjected to sexual assault. The key is to not let it ruin your life. We all need to get over ourselves and get on with it. Never be a victim.
_______________________________________
p.s. I don't know why I haven't used these men's last names? I should have more courage. Google Pierre Trudeau's minister of Supply and Services and you will find one of them.
Even when he would tell me to stand up against the wall, because he said he couldn't see into my mouth properly (as if!!), and pressed his groin on me I still didn't say a word to anyone. Again, it must have been my fault.
Years and years later, I was invited to the Britannia Yacht Club and whose picture was on the wall in all its glory? Yep, Richard B's. He was the Commodore and I was sorely disappointed he hadn't been there because I would have confronted him in all his public splendor. What still amazes me is that no one has ever charged him -- at least to my knowledge -- because I could not have been the only one he had done this to?!
With everything that's cascading out about women and girls having been assaulted, these incidents come back to me. So too did another that took place at a cottage when I was about 20, where a young man forced himself upon me. In spite of my protestations, he would not desist and I, not wanting to wake up his parents by making a scene, eventually succumbed. "Don't make a scene," was the watchword back in those days. God!
When the phone rang in my hotel room late one night in Vancouver in 1976, I sleepily picked it up. "Could you please come to my room, I want to go over the speech," said a prominent Quebec minister in Trudeau senior's cabinet. Turned out that wasn't what he wanted to "go over". Having just had a baby and no job, I was freelancing as a speech writer, hoping to get a permanent placement in a government department. Knowing this minister was key in securing me one, I had to comply. While not technically "rape", it was not consensual. Or maybe it was rape, even though I did not physically fight his advances. I felt obliged to succumb because he had the power and I needed him to use it for me. That's just the way it was. So much for Trudeau junior's "feminist" claims. Please.
The next day the cottage guy and his mother were laughing uproariously about it. A few years later, when attending a parent-teacher event, I ran into Bill M again. He was the chair of the association -- a supposedly upstanding citizen. What a laugh! This time I reminded him: "Hey Bill, remember when you raped me at your parents' cottage in 1967?" His adoring audience was dumbstruck, as he tried to laugh it off, but you have never seen anyone run away so fast in your life.
All this to say that so many of us have been subjected to sexual assault. The key is to not let it ruin your life. We all need to get over ourselves and get on with it. Never be a victim.
_______________________________________
p.s. I don't know why I haven't used these men's last names? I should have more courage. Google Pierre Trudeau's minister of Supply and Services and you will find one of them.
Tuesday, November 7, 2017
Give her a copy of the Canadian Constitution
I told you Julie Payette was a dumb choice for Governor General and she has proved (I meant "proven", Bob) my assessment correct. In her first speech, she actually crapped on "believers"! This is the representative of Her Majesty, Queen of Canada and Head of the Church of England. Hello, last time I checked, the Queen was a devoted servant of God and defender of The Faith at all times.
Payette has absolutely no business giving her opinion on anything. She is a figurehead and needs to shut up and cut ribbons. How did the hapless Trudeau pick her? "Hey, let's pick a woman," Sophie must have said one morning in bed. "Great idea!" Justin must have replied. "And what about a celebrity?" Yeah, let's go for it!
So, they lighted upon the arrogant Ms. Payette. She needs to read up on her role and, as I said, shut up.
Payette has absolutely no business giving her opinion on anything. She is a figurehead and needs to shut up and cut ribbons. How did the hapless Trudeau pick her? "Hey, let's pick a woman," Sophie must have said one morning in bed. "Great idea!" Justin must have replied. "And what about a celebrity?" Yeah, let's go for it!
So, they lighted upon the arrogant Ms. Payette. She needs to read up on her role and, as I said, shut up.
Monday, November 6, 2017
A friendship "poofed"
Des. 22, 2012 -- The Dreaded Christmas Letter
Dec. 21, 2015 -- The Hideous Christmas Letter
Read those blogs of mine and you will see what I think of people who turn the birth of Our Lord into a boring, tedious, hubris-ridden litany of 'who cares?'
We ran into the husband of an author of one of these ridiculous musings yesterday, when we ventured to The Palliser for lunch. "Look who's sitting over there," I whispered to B. "It's MG." And indeed it was. An old and valued friend of B's from his post-graduate days in London at the London School of Economics, M used to make it a point to get in touch with us whenever he came to Calgary.
Frankly, I'd rather listen to Jimmy than Warren -- the two Buffets, the latter of which M is a disciple of. When the 2008 crash happened, the deputy governor of the Bank of Canada said he wished B had handled his finances. We put ours under the mattress.
No more. Not since I blasted his wife in a couple of blogs about "Christmas Letters". Why do people think anyone cares about what they did over the past year? Why do they think the rest of us value so little what our year wrought they think we will enjoy theirs? It's so insulting. Sending out a Xeroxed copy of blah-blah-blah to everyone means the author couldn't care less about what we were doing in our little corners of the world.
"I'm just having a reflective lunch on my own," he said when B approached. Translation: Don't sit with me and don't ask me to sit with you. That's the influence his wife must have had on him. "All my friends think you're a terrible snob," their daughter said to this woman a while back when I was in the car somewhere in Toronto. N was visibly shocked, but I wasn't. In fact, she would have got on like a house on fire with B's ex -- two women who do not have a proper conceit of themselves.
As the English say, the worst sin one can commit is to be a bore. Not my cuppa.
Dec. 21, 2015 -- The Hideous Christmas Letter
Read those blogs of mine and you will see what I think of people who turn the birth of Our Lord into a boring, tedious, hubris-ridden litany of 'who cares?'
We ran into the husband of an author of one of these ridiculous musings yesterday, when we ventured to The Palliser for lunch. "Look who's sitting over there," I whispered to B. "It's MG." And indeed it was. An old and valued friend of B's from his post-graduate days in London at the London School of Economics, M used to make it a point to get in touch with us whenever he came to Calgary.
Frankly, I'd rather listen to Jimmy than Warren -- the two Buffets, the latter of which M is a disciple of. When the 2008 crash happened, the deputy governor of the Bank of Canada said he wished B had handled his finances. We put ours under the mattress.
No more. Not since I blasted his wife in a couple of blogs about "Christmas Letters". Why do people think anyone cares about what they did over the past year? Why do they think the rest of us value so little what our year wrought they think we will enjoy theirs? It's so insulting. Sending out a Xeroxed copy of blah-blah-blah to everyone means the author couldn't care less about what we were doing in our little corners of the world.
"I'm just having a reflective lunch on my own," he said when B approached. Translation: Don't sit with me and don't ask me to sit with you. That's the influence his wife must have had on him. "All my friends think you're a terrible snob," their daughter said to this woman a while back when I was in the car somewhere in Toronto. N was visibly shocked, but I wasn't. In fact, she would have got on like a house on fire with B's ex -- two women who do not have a proper conceit of themselves.
As the English say, the worst sin one can commit is to be a bore. Not my cuppa.
Thursday, November 2, 2017
Ether bears
So, now natives are claiming territory based on ghost grizzlies. After fighting in court for years -- making lawyers very rich -- The Supreme Court has struck down their claim of "religious freedom" in a case against a resort company that wanted to build in so-called native land. Their case? The natives believe ghost bears "haunt" the area.
Thank G-d judicial sanity prevailed! Has Beverley Mclachlin finally come to her senses? According to the Canadian Constitution, Natives do not have a veto over anything, but seem to think they have. The Crown's duty is to consult, not roll over.
"These are our relatives," said the demented Perry Bellegarde. "These ghost bears are our religion." OMG! I think maybe my mother haunts me. Should contractors be prevented from building next to my home because Mom might show up in the ether?
It's completely insane. And as to the real grizzlies in the area, Fish and Wildlife and Parks Canada have that covered, thanks anyway.
And speaking of insane, native child advocate Cindy Blackstock was on 'Power Play' today demanding more $$$$$$$$$$$$$ for native children. These are kids whose parents have neglected and abused them, but guess what? It's our fault they have been taken into care.
I can't handle much more of this.
Thank G-d judicial sanity prevailed! Has Beverley Mclachlin finally come to her senses? According to the Canadian Constitution, Natives do not have a veto over anything, but seem to think they have. The Crown's duty is to consult, not roll over.
"These are our relatives," said the demented Perry Bellegarde. "These ghost bears are our religion." OMG! I think maybe my mother haunts me. Should contractors be prevented from building next to my home because Mom might show up in the ether?
It's completely insane. And as to the real grizzlies in the area, Fish and Wildlife and Parks Canada have that covered, thanks anyway.
And speaking of insane, native child advocate Cindy Blackstock was on 'Power Play' today demanding more $$$$$$$$$$$$$ for native children. These are kids whose parents have neglected and abused them, but guess what? It's our fault they have been taken into care.
I can't handle much more of this.
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