The last touchstone

I just called my Great Uncle Paul -- the youngest brother of my grandmother. He is 95 years old and still totally with-it. He is a part of my birth family, my only touchstone with my long-dead birth mother. We talked and switched back and forth from his constipation to my mother, Shirley (dead at 49), to his daughter, Judy, who had died a year ago, to his nephew, Jim, dead two years, to his late wife, to his son who looks in on him...........to the nurse who gives him his enemas..........I kid you not.

When I finally found my birth family I was overjoyed and Uncle Paul was and remains one of the touchstones of my birth family. He was the one who dropped this into a conversation a few years ago.........."Did I ever tell you that your great-grandmother was a Mohawk Indian?" Whaaaaaaaaaaaat????? Well, he had forgotten to tell me that bit. He went on to say that this grandmother had no teeth, spoke no English, smoked a pipe, but was the only one who could chop frozen wood for the cook stove in the dead of winter. After her husband died, she moved back to the Tyendenaga Mohawk Reserve in Napanee to die. My Indian heritage explains a lot about me. Let's leave it at that.

I did not meet my birth mother, she had died a year before I had found her. More about that in another blog. Suffice it to say, I am like her in many ways. The argument about genetics versus environment is an interesting one. I am completely like my adoptive mother when it comes to rearing and values, but completely like my birth mother when it comes to personality and intelligence. Shirley I am, but Lillian I am also.

A Canadian Tragedy??!!

The report release the other day about the Air India crash being a "Canadian tragedy" struck me as wrong. It was not a "Canadian tragedy", it was a Sikh tragedy begun in Canada on a foreign airliner. The perpetrators were Sikhs, carrying out their hatred on other Indians via Air India. But as Canadians, we shoulder the blame and have paid millions and millions for inquiries and trials and reports and we are blamed for the importation of their hatred and violence into Canada. Those responsible walk free, while innocent Canadians have wrung their hands in shame and guilt. Remember, all this was pre-9/11 and security was normal for the times. The sikh who checked the bomb walked out of the airport and didn't even martyr himself. Back he went to Surrey and a nice dinner. Makes me so angry.

Many immigrants import their hatreds into Canada. Not what Canada is about. Last year we endured protests, traffic jams and blocked streets from the...I can't even remember the name of the disaffected -- oh yes, the tamil tigers, an East Indian faction on the banned list here, but still your tax dollars went to the police who had to man the barricades. That's what I love about Canada -- we let anyone protest anything. Thus, the whole thing modulates itself, rather than escalating into violence and killing. I would love to check the clothing labels on all the thugs who will be masked and throwing things at the upcoming G-8. They protest capitalism, but they sport the latest in guerilla outfits, made by slave labour in oppressed countries. Wanna bet?

"Bone Idle" versus "a psychiatric condition" .

In the world of Kim and Aggie, hoarders with filthy houses are just "bone bloody idle". In the American version of 'The Hoarders', similar slobs have a psychiatric condition. 'How Clean is Your House?' is a British show in which Kim and Aggie tackle a dump of a cesspool of a dump of a cesspool every week and clean it up. I'll get to 'The Hoarders' later, but first a peep into the muck and mire of Kim and Aggie's weekly mess. I absolutely love the show!

Kim appears in jewelry and died blonde hair, dolled up to beat the band. She dons rinestone rubber gloves and gives the home owner s-h-one-t. "Shut your gob," is followed softly by, "my love". Aggie swabs every surface and comes back with billions and billions and billions and billions of different bacteria -- all analyzed by special hospitals -- found thriving and multiplying on every surface. Don't get me started on the toilets!! I can't even go there. I am only talking about the kitchen counters! Nightly visits by ugly mice just enhance the domestic scene. Gag me.

So, the hapless owner stumbles around while Kim extoles the virtues of vinegar, tea, lemon, nail polish, bleach, grapefruit juice and bicorbonate of soda. Shoe polish is also used. "Well, I just sort of lost touch", says the idiot who lives there. Kim gives absolutely no quarter. He or she is a "lazy slob, my love,". Bone idle and useless also emerge as descriptors.

The American version of Hoarders has everyone suffering from a psychiatric malady. Please. Each show features mostly women weeping and moaning over three-year-old yogurt. Gag me again. Of course, we have the usual motely crew of victimologists and grief counsellors, all wading through tons of paper, shopping debris and decades-old purchases. Vermin and children are a-one. But instead of giving these women a slap upside the head, they are given to believe they are suffering from a mental illness. Whaaaaaat? Naturally, they all suddenly act mentally ill and begin to weep over the fifty pairs of shorts they bought last year and the one hundred newspapers they hadn't had time to read and the 250 cans of cat food they had left open on the floor for the 75 feral cats and the 10 family albums they were trying to sort and the christmas decorations they hadn't put away and the shoes and socks they planned to deal with and the bathroom they hadn't cleaned in five years and the kitchen stove they couldn't find anymore.... and on and on and on and on and on.................

But, as Kim says, "Darling, you are just bone idle," See, that's the difference. After Kim and Aggie leave there is a sense of accomplishment. They then return a few weeks later and find that Joe-Blow is still keeping up. The American hoarder has a sense of entitlement that empowers them to get right back into hoarding -- just to prove they were actually mentally ill and deserved a TV show afterall.

Just shoot me.

Other than that, Mrs. Kennedy...

Other than that, Mrs. Kennedy, how was your trip to Dallas? That's an old one, but it sprang to mind during our daughter's wedding this past weekend. No matter that we dealt with the golf club a thousand times, they managed to spell the groom's name incorrectly on the table card. They also managed to forget the dessert. They also did not have a point person with whom we could deal. It was this server and that server and this server and that server.....such a poor show for such a famous club.

And the church managed to spell Susanne's name wrong. They forgot the "ne". She would officially have been "Susan". They also did not issue a Catholic Fatima certificate -- the reason she had to be married in a catholic church in the first place. She needs the certificate for her school. So, Monday morning back we traipsed to the office and had the whole thing re-done. But they did cash the cheque in jig time. Make no mistake about that. I can also guarantee that all of the mis-steps are my fault. Ask anyone at the golf club or the church office and they will tell you that I did something wrong. So, I wrote two letters today: one to the president of the golf club and the other to the pastor of Fatima. Didn't think that writing to the people who messed up would guarantee they would report themselves to their superiors. As if.

But the wedding was wonderful. I am so happy that my darling Susanne has married her prince. Colin is a fabulous guy and he loves her so much. I also loved his parents and now have a clue about why he is such a cool fellow. We managed to keep the guests to 29 and as a result, there was not one person there that I did not love. It's either 25 or 150 and with 150 you have no time for about a third of them. Life is settling back to normal.

So, anyway...........

...we went to another reception at the British High Commission this evening. we have been going to these for various functions since the mid-nineties and have enjoyed them immensely. We have known four sets of High Commissioners and their wives and have made friends with two sets. All of the male high commissioners were/are wonderful; only two of the four wives have been nice. But, enough about bitches in the foreign service. I am looking forward to a lovely dinner at our golf club with the current high commissioner and his charming wife in July. They are just super people and very down-to-earth.

Whenever we go to Earnscliffe I am struck by the fact that this is the home of Canada's first Prime Minister, Sir John A. MacDonald. The British Government has elevated his presence in the residence, but it is appalling that the Brit's own his home. Can you imagine the United States allowing George Washington's home to be the residence of a foreign state!!??!! Would never happen. Canada should spend whatever it costs to buy back this home from Britain -- no matter the cost. There is a bust of Sir John A. in the foyer and whenever I pass it, I silently apologize for our having forfeited his abode. I am sure his ghost haunts the resident High Commissioner!

Over the years and the many receptions, I have come to know all the waitresses at Earnscliffe and hence, get all the best canapes. Seriously, you have to pay attention to the waiters and waitresses to get the best food. I always tell them I am not on a diet and I always remember their names. That is the key.

I plan to weigh in on the firing of the general who dallied with a subordinate. Not enough time right now. Suffice to say, he had it coming.

How can this be??!!??!

I read in the newspaper that Algonquin College has launched a new course. It is called.........wait for it.......you are not ready for this...........not yet..........sit down............calm down............breathe deeply...........wait a little longer.....get out the beads......close your eyes.......go to a happy place.......breathe more deeply........lie down......draw a bath...........get into it..........The new course is called..........I can hardly type it....... "Victimology". I kid you not! Why do I keep saying, "I kid you not"? It's because I cannot believe so many realities! So, you can now enroll in a "Victimology" course at Algonquin College and emerge a...........victim? a..........person who deals with victims?...... a person who wants to sue someone?.............Not quite sure? But the article quoted the woman (of course) director of the course and she said that "Victimology" would explore the "theory and history" of the victim. Whaaaaaat?!!!!!???!!! I can't even fathom what that means!? So, let's get this straight. If I get a degree in "Victimology" I will be able to counsel victims of.................?????? It is beyond belief that society has come to this. We cannot as friends and family and help each other. We have to turn to strangers with degrees in "Victimology" to help us through our trials. It must be an extension of "grief counselors", those "experts" who descend upon high schools after a shooting rampage. Strangers who are somehow more qualified to help than parents and grandparents. But now, someone is making money offering a course in it. Just shoot me.

We now have "Youthologists"

Watching a bad show this afternoon, I felt as if I had stumbled upon a peep show. It was all about teenage girls and what they consider "sex". It seems that everything except the act of procreation itself is not considered sex. There they were, appearing with their mothers no less, talking about a form of partying that can only be described as "speed sex" -- kinda like speed dating, but this involved every act you could think of and how it all worked. Apparently, the girls make a list of everything they would like to do, and with whom they would like to do it, and then go from one boy to the next doing these things in a group. Remember how we used to dance together at parties? Well, things have definitely shifted big time.

It was appalling and very scary. The stupid mothers just sat there while their daughters talked about the typical Friday night. Then a bunch of doctors chimed in warning that although this form of "dating" can be very empowering for girls -- whaaaat???!!! -- you still have to be mindful of those annoying STD's. What a pain it all is, trying to stay safe while rushing from one guy to the next, trying to remember what precautions to use for what act. The crowning touch came when one 15-year-old said that she and most of her friends practiced anal sex, so they wouldn't have to actually engage in intercourse. This way they could remain "virgins" I kid you not!!!! And this was mainstream, prime time afternoon TV! Nevermind the obesity epidemic in the US. This is off the charts!

The doctors and "experts" who were most in favour of all this "empowering" were the women on the panel. They acted as if this were some new form of women's lib because the girls were in the driver's seat, so to speak. Especially the "youthologist". She was perfect. Since when do we have to have youthologists? I guess since mothers packed it in. Now these morons have to rely on experts to tell them that anal intercourse is not a great idea at 15 (or ever). I could go on, but I won't.

Talking this morning about bizarre behaviour, I recalled that our mothers and grandmothers didn't rely on experts to tell them what was happening to Mrs. Smith next door, or Mrs. Jones' daughter down the street. If Mrs. Smith went berserk and killed her husband -- or worse left him -- there was no psychological explanation. Mrs. Smith just..."took a notion". Plain and simple. And if Mrs. Jones' daughter got "in the family way", Mrs. Jones' daughter was just a bad girl. Plain and simple. People "took notions", someone was "just born that way", people had "nervous breakdowns" (whatever that meant), people went "queer", someone was eccentric, someone else was "odd", those people were "different", the wild boy down the street was just "going through a phase". All deviations were tidily described and summarily dismissed before breakfast. As a kid I found it emminently easier to handle the out-of-the-ordinary without a psychiatric analysis and a talk show attached.